Yes, I admit to having fic ADD..I get stuck with writers block on my stories so I go where the muse takes me, but I always finish the eventually, (even when I don't want to!) But no apologies. I yam what I yam, as my old hero Popeye used to say... a big thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, followed. Not beta'd, all oopsies are mine.

Gibbs had been bent over the workbench for at least half an hour before it occurred to him just what Ducky had been alluding to with his Pinocchio reference. A huffed laugh escaped him, and he almost lost his hold on the carving tool in his hand. He thought maybe he remembered seeing the movie when he was a kid, though it was so long ago now, his own childhood was a blurred string of flashes and feelings mixed in with tumultuous emotions. He often couldn't remember what had actually occurred as opposed to what he thought had occurred. He'd been wrong about some things, had seen so many things through the eyes of grief and tragedy and knew that they had altered his perceptions and memories.

Besides, he'd never been a kid who liked being in the dark, literally or figuratively; it made him claustrophobic, so he'd opted to spend weekend afternoons out walking the fields with his dog, scaring up pheasants and breathing in all the glorious scents nature had to offer. But the old Disney movie was familiar to him, and he recalled Geppetto with the walrus type mustache, and the cricket with the top hat who became Pinocchio's conscience. Other than that, the rest of the story escaped him. He did, however, have a pretty good idea of who would know the story, if not backwards and forwards, at least the spine of it.

He stopped his work and went searching for his phone, which he'd tossed somewhere onto the workbench when he'd come down there. He'd never up and invited DiNozzo to come join him in the basement, the kid had would just wander down there on his own uninvited and always acted genuinely pleased and surprised that his boss didn't seem to mind his presence. But Tony seemed to know too when to visit and when not to, depending on the vibes Gibbs was giving off at the end of the day.

That didn't mean he stayed away when he knew Gibbs was vibrating with frustration and anger. Those times seemed to attract him the most, as if he thought he could absorb some of his boss's raw emotions and ease the man's distress. And very often, he did just that, snuffing out the flame on the fuse working its way to Gibbs' inner core before it connected and lit the waiting pile of gunpowder. Gibbs would fuss and fume and try to keep up his saber rattling, but in the end, DiNozzo would always win, cajoling his recalcitrant boss into talking about how he solved an old case, or teaching him a favorite family cooking recipe.

A sharp 'Yes, Boss!' sounded on the other end of his phone when Tony finally answered, out of breath and a bit too dramatic, even for him.

"Where the hell are you, DiNozzo?"

"Well, not too far away, actually, where are you?"

"Where the hell do ya think I am, and you didn't answer my question!"

"Uh, well, had my hands full, needed to set some stuff down to get to my phone."

"Yeah, so?"

"We catch a case, Boss?" Tony queried, still sounding out of breath and vague.

"No, we did not catch a case, DiNozzo, we're off rotation for three days, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. So, what's up then?"

Gibbs sighed, giving up the battle to find out where his SFA was at the moment. Home was the most likely answer, as he heard a rattling in the background of groceries and bottles being put away.

"Nothing's up, just wondered if ya wanted to join me for dinner."

"Are you asking me out on a date, boss? Cause really, I haven't known you long enough to -"

"You've known me almost a year, DiNozzo, and you know what I mean about joining me for dinner."

"Ha, yeah, Boss, I do." Gibbs could hear the humor in his second's voice. "What were you thinking of having?"

Gibbs straightened in his seat, indignant that Tony's visit depended merely on what grub he was offering.

"Cause I brought pizza and wings, Boss, and a bunch of cannolis for dessert." Tony offered, coming down the basement steps balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he carried two boxes in front of him.

"Stupid shit.." Gibbs muttered under his breath, though secretly he was amused at being played so well.

"What was that, Boss? Did I hear you say 'why didn't I think of it?' 'Where's my catcher's mitt?' 'Where's DiNozzo gonna sit..'" Tony rambled on, fully expecting the whack to his head that almost sent his phone flying as he set down the pizza and wing boxes.

"So whataya need, Boss, it's not very often you call me down here. Need some muscle moving something?"

"Nope. What'd ya bring to drink, cause I'm not wasting my bourbon to wash pizza down with."

Gibbs could deflect as well as his agent, was a master at it, but Tony wouldn't let it by him. In fact, he was starting to worry a little at the man's intentions. Calling him to invite him to a basement night? Then stalling to tell him exactly why...He turned to his boss, concern showing on his face.

"I do something wrong today, Boss? Cause honestly, I tried as hard as I could to entertain Trevor, I just couldn't get him interested in -"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Tony, stop over-thinking things."

"Can't help it, Boss. How my mind works. How I solve my cases, too."

"I know, Tony. But sometimes you need to shut it down and let it go."

"Don't know how other than movies, Boss."

"Maybe it's time you learned another hobby. Got plenty of wood for woodworking."

Tony blinked several times, trying to digest what Gibbs was telling him.

"Ummmm. Let me have something to eat first, then I'll let you know."

"Ya either want to or ya don't, DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, offended that his offer was all but rebuffed.

Tony kept his cool, but his eyes narrowed a bit at his boss's snapping.

"Never worked with hand tools before, Boss, don't wanna take my trigger finger off cutting lumber."

"You worked with it in summer camp, Tony, you told me so."

"Kid's stuff. And back then I didn't worry about not having a working shooting hand. Didn't know any better. Don't wanna break any of your antiques, either, I know some of them were gifts from...family."

"Go get something to drink with the pizza, there's lots of beer in the fridge, soda too if you don't want beer."

Tony nodded and bounded up the stairs, leaving Gibbs to start on the pizza and stuff nearly an entire slice in his mouth while he thought about an easy wood working project for his second. He had lots of scraps of wood around, enough for some simple projects for someone inexperienced and not keen on cutting their gun fingers off.

By the time Tony got back with the drinks, Gibbs had some slabs of lumber lined up on the work bench and was measuring and marking them.

"Whatcha got, Boss?"

"Bird feeders and bird houses. Squares and glue and nails, few pieces of glass...you can handle that, can't ya, DiNozzo?"

"Sure, Boss." Tony answered, but without a lot of conviction. "Gonna have dinner first, though."

"Uh huh." Gibbs agreed with a put-out look, knowing his SFA intended to drag his feet and stall for time by turning dinner into an all night affair until they were both too tired to start on any new project. Well, he'd see about that...

"So what'd you want to talk to me about, Boss?" Tony asked, lowering a large piece of pizza into his mouth.

"Said I didn't, DiNozzo. Just wanted some company."

Tony burst out laughing, nearly choking on and spitting out his food. He gathered it back into his mouth, and grabbed a napkin to wipe up any sauce on his chin.

"You listen to me yap all week long and now you're wanting me to keep you company?" Tony stopped smiling, suddenly all business. "Boss, you're okay, right, I mean..you're not quitting or...sick, are you?"

"I'm fine, Tony, and I'm not quitting. Just thought it would be nice to spend time with you off the clock and when we were both in a good mood."

"Oh. Yeah, okay. It's just..weird. And now you wanting to teach me how to make birdhouses."

"You don't have to, Tony." Gibbs assured him quietly, no anger in his face or voice. "Just thought you'd enjoy learning something not work-related, something to relax you."

"Work relaxes me, Boss. When I'm still keyed up, I watch movies and veg out with a couple of beers or a glass of good wine."

"Fair enough. Up to you, not everybody's cut out to – cut out - bird feeders."

"Didn't say I didn't wanna learn, Boss, just making sure you really want to teach me. Not the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to home projects."

Gibbs studied his second, trying to read behind his eyes and between the lines to what he wasn't saying.

"I promise I won't yell at ya if you mess up, Tony. It's just pieces of wood, and it's supposed to be fun, not something anyone's gonna make fun of you for or get mad at you if you don't do it right or it doesn't look perfect."

Tony seemed to sag with relief, and Gibbs knew he had hit the nail on the head. Not everyone was lucky enough to have a dad who lovingly and patiently taught their children the basics of carpentry or mechanics, or any other worth-while pastime or skill. Gibbs had never really thought too much about it until now, always assuming it was just what fathers did with and for their kids. Well, that's what happened when one assumed...he had a feeling a lot of other assumptions were going to be called out onto the carpet the more he learned about DiNozzo.

"Dreaded doing any of those stupid camp projects." Tony quietly informed him. "No matter how hard I worked on them, he could always find something wrong with them, like he knew anything about carpentry or pottery or whatever else it was I had made. I would give them to him to put on his desk or in his office, and later on I'd find them in a drawer somewhere or – in the trash. Like he didn't want anyone else seeing it, either. Not exactly a glowing endorsement of your skills when your own father disses your stuff."

"Why do ya think he did it, Tony? I mean – you were a kid, he really didn't expect professional stuff from ya, did he?"

"I don't really know what he expected from me, Boss, other than to not embarrass him and to not act like a kid. I never knew that summer camp was about having fun and being a kid, I never went to one that didn't treat us all like miniature adults. I was always surprised they didn't have Happy Hour for us and serve us Shirley Temples or hard cider or something. It was serious business. Not a whole lot different than RIMA, actually, we even had to wear uniforms."

Gibbs listened while he ate his pizza, but it was starting to taste like cardboard in his mouth with Tony's casual description of his father's boorish behavior and children's summer camps being run like military schools. As usual, Ducky had been right about why Tony behaved the way he did around kids, and why he behaved childishly himself at times around Gibbs. He had never realized just how deeply Tony's craving for approval from him ran, or where it stemmed from, until now. He took a swig of beer to wash down what he had eaten, and wiped his mouth on a paper restaurant napkin.

"What if I said I could teach you how to make them look good enough to give away as Christmas presents if you wanted to? Just cause it's scrap lumber doesn't mean they're crap projects."

"I'd like that, Boss. I'd like to make something that I like, not something I'm supposed to try to impress my father with."

"Okay! Finish your pizza, and we'll go over the plans and measurements. Tomorrow morning we'll start fresh and bang out a few of them, you can decide if you wanna keep making them or not. And Tony – if you don't want to, that's okay too. It's only worth doing if it's fun and you like doing it."

"Okay, Boss. Cause they might just might end up looking like crap when I'm done with them."

Gibbs looked at Tony's fidgety hands, the long, agile fingers that were so talented playing games on his phone and handling a weapon.

"Do you really believe the stuff you made for your father was crap, Tony? Cause I can't think of all the other stuff you're good at and how much of yourself you put into your work, and still believe you were a total failure when it came to camp crafts."

"Well, I – I usually won first place with them at the craft fair at the end of the summer. I just – well, you know how much we believe our parents when we're young, if they say we're – our - camp crafts are crap, then they must be. I never really had any faith in myself till military school. There were rules, goals, missions, something I could actually measure my actions by. You were either good or you got kicked out, there was no in between. I knew exactly what was expected of me, and how to get there. Nothing was nebulous, or changeable with someone's mood, I always knew exactly where I stood, even when I was bad. Just like with you, Boss. Why I like working for you. No unknown grey areas to waste time and energy trying to figure out."

"Hmmff." Gibbs snorted, chowing down another slice of the pizza. "Well, don't know if that's a compliment or an insult, but doesn't matter, long as we're fightin' on the same side. I'll try not to get too complicated for ya, leave that to Abby."

Tony smiled knowingly and sighed around his third slice of pizza, settling onto the hard work bench stool that Gibbs had thoughtfully provided for him. Maybe he would actually get to like it here in D.C, and stick around longer than two years. The thought warmed and frightened him at the same time. Well, his two year anniversary for this job was a long way off, and anything could happen in between now and then, so he wasn't going to waste time worrying about it. Right now he had pizza and wings to eat and bird feeders to make, and someone he actually looked forward to making them with.

If by Monday the man was sick of him and wanted him gone, Tony had at least had a pleasant couple of days with his boss. He knew Gibbs went through agents like coffee, and didn't fool himself that he may be joining the long line of wannabes for some impulsive indiscretion that sent him unceremoniously out the door. He'd just have to work extra hard to not be the next one out. It wasn't going to be easy, but there was something about Gibbs that made him want to try harder to be what the man expected of him - yet another thing that kept making him skitter back over the line that got him too close to his boss and Abby and Ducky. They were different than anyone he had ever encountered, and reeked of family and belonging and security. He could only hold out so long before falling, and his fight or flight reflexes constantly warred with each other, leaving him wired and on edge and at times primed to make that misstep that would get him booted off Gibbs' team. It was a round-robin, or self-fulfilling destiny, he wasn't sure which, and maybe he was doomed to repeating it over and over again throughout his life.

"DiNozzo! I said pass the wings, time to get them eaten before they get cold!"

"Yeah, Boss, sure. Sorry."

"It's birdhouses and feeders, Tony, not a house. You're over-thinking again."

"Yeah, I know, Boss. It's how I'm strung, can't help it."

"Well yer strings are gonna get cut down here, we're not at work, you can relax and stop runnin' your brain. Have another beer if it helps, just – give it a rest. Whatever it is will shake itself out in time."

"Yup, I'm sure it will, Boss." Tony murmured, taking a good long pull from a new bottle of beer. "I'm sure it will."

TBC