Okay, maybe I have this one out of my system finally. I'll try to finish the Post Traumatic Strep story next. Thanks so much to all who have taken the time to read, review, favorite and follow this little jaunt into my Tony/Pinocchio world, which is AU and slightly OOC for Gibbs. Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.
Tony awoke the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking and groaned. He didn't have a hangover; he'd only had three or four beers along with a ton of pizza and wings, and Gibbs had actually had a bakery-bought pie for dessert. No, it wasn't booze, or even the overindulgence of grease and goo, or the thought of inhaling yet more food. It was a lot more serious, and scarier than that.
Anthony DiNozzo had told tales out of school to his boss last night; worse yet, he had let down his guard and actually given his brain a rest, not letting it get ahead of him trying to figure things out before they even happened. It was a habit he had developed as a child as a means of self-defense against his parents and their friends. He learned quickly to gauge moods, read body language, interpret vocal nuances and then either join in or find a place to run and hide. Split seconds, before he even realized his brain was doing the calculations, he could decide whether it was safe to stick around or head for the hills. It had served him well most of the time, was a boon to his survival in boarding school, and had enabled him to literally stay alive a number of times during some of his undercover ops and dicey situations as a cop.
Not to mention being able to read opponents intentions be it interrogations, sports, or poker. He had nearly furnished his college apartment with all his winnings, and had more than once been accused of cheating. But Tony didn't need to cheat, he could spot a tell a mile away. Which led his brain to process mental and physical moves and maneuvers, which led to being one step ahead, which led to never being vulnerable and getting yourself hurt.
The problem was, it never shut off, even when he wanted it to. He'd spent so many years as a child using it to stay out of the line of verbal and physical fire, an athlete outsmarting his opponent, then a cop outwitting criminals, and now a Special federal agent trying to impress his new hard core boss, he didn't know any different, couldn't imagine anything different. To think outside of his steel -trap, computer - like mind meant risking all sorts of awful things; physical and emotional pain, loss of control, and getting attached to anything he slowed down long enough to get to know, which could lead to all of the other aforementioned awful things.
Control was the name of the game in Tony's world, it was all he'd ever had to protect himself with, and now his boss was determined to take it away from him by being nice and inviting him to come hang out with him and then putting him up in his guest bedroom. And god damn the man, now he was cooking breakfast. Which made Tony groan out loud, especially when he remembered they were supposed to make some bird thingies after breakfast, which could lead to more talking and letting his guard down and being vulnerable . And Tony just didn't do vulnerable, especially in front of his boss. The bossman should know that and yet, here he was, doing his best to break his SFA down by exposing his weaknesses. Nope. Wasn't gonna happen, Tony decided, getting out of bed with a purpose and heading for the shower. He'd be polite, eat what the boss cooked, compliment and thank him profusely, then make an excuse and be out of there before ten o'clock. Yeah, that would work.
Gibbs heard the shower running and headed upstairs, searching out some sweats for Tony to wear and leaving them on the hamper by the sink.
"Sausages and home made home fries, scrambled eggs and toast. Don't dawdle and make us eat them cold." was all he said before exiting the steamy room.
Tony sighed and closed his eyes in under the spray of water. Shit. He loved Gibbs' home fries. And Gibbs bought this home made twelve grain bread at a nearby farmer's market that he cut thick and slathered with gobs of butter and Gibbs never once chided him for using too much. Okay, well, he'd already decided to stay for breakfast, what was he worrying about? He finished his shower, towel dried his hair, and slipped into the sweat pants and shirt that his boss had left for him along with clean underwear and socks. This was the last time he left home without a fresh go-bag.
"There's juice, coffee, milk, and some of that tea that Ducky left when he was here one time." Gibbs announced when he heard Tony come into the kitchen and start looking in the fridge for something to drink. "You know where the glasses are."
Yes, Tony knew where the glasses were, and the coffee cups, and the plates and flatware. He knew way too much about his boss's kitchen, and he didn't like it.
"Yeah. I sure do." Tony snarked back.
"What was that?"
"Just saying I know too much about your kitchen, Gibbs. You're my boss, you're not supposed to be feeding and clothing me. Can do it myself."
"Where the hell is this coming from, DiNozzo?" Gibbs fired at him, turning off the fry pan and glaring at his agent. Though, truthfully, he had a pretty good idea where it was emanating from.
"Just don't want you putting yourself out for me, I'm your field agent, not a hard case."
Gibbs kept his anger in check for the time being, knowing his second's basement confessions of last night had him rattled and wrong – footed this morning.
"Never thought you were, Tony. And telling me that your father's a jerk isn't telling me anything I haven't heard from lots of other he – man agents."
"Your dad a jack ass, Gibbs?"
"Not all the time, no, I'm just sayin' that you don't have the market cornered on idiot fathers. Lots of them out there, lots of people carryin' chips on their shoulders and using it as an excuse to act like jerks themselves. I've never seen you imitate him, DiNozzo, so don't start now by talkin' trash to me cause you feel like you've bared your soul by telling me about your summer camp disasters."
"Sorry, Boss, I -"
"Rule Six, Tony."
"Okay, Boss." Tony heaved an impatient breath. "I apologize for getting up on the wrong side of the bed, and yes, I am mad at myself for opening up like that. You didn't need to know it, I didn't need to rehash it, or any of the rest of the stuff I told you last night. Doesn't serve any purpose other than to make me look like a whiner and my father an ass. Let's just – not talk about it anymore, okay? Let's talk about you, and your - not - all - the - time jack ass father. Tell me what a real dad does with his son so I can live vicariously through you."
Gibbs gave his second a hard look, thinking the young man was being a jack ass again himself and readied to lay into him, but instead found only a rawness he'd never seen in Tony's countenance, not even the night before when his second recounted tales of striving hopelessly for his father's approval in anything, even if just for a simple hand-made camp craft. Gibbs had to turn away for a few moments, rocked by the sincerity and longing in Tony's eyes. He fussed with the eggs, even though they'd been ready long ago.
"Would you believe me if I told you that at the time I was growing up, and for a long time afterwards, I thought he was kind of a dork?"
Tony smiled and his tension seemed to ease a little as he poured himself a cup of juice, so Gibbs turned back to him and continued.
"I mean – he wasn't, really, I was just too young and naïve to know any better. Some of my friends told me he was an old fart cause he wouldn't let me do a lot of the things they were doing. I believed them until some of them ended up in jail cause of the way their parents had let them run wild. I thought I was being held prisoner, that I never got to do anything 'fun'. Thought I knew what fun was back then, but I sure as hell didn't. Anyways, it got worse as I got older, of course, till I ended up just hitching up with the Corps to get out of Dodge. Turns out I was stupider than the kids that ended up in trouble, cause I had something good that they didn't and didn't appreciate it."
"You had nothing to compare it to, Boss. You can't make a decent judgment without any reference point. I didn't know any better myself until I went to college, and met some of my frat brothers' parents.
Blew me away. Pissed me off a lot, too."
"Yeah. Imagine it did." Gibbs said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, well, wasn't a damned thing I could do about it by then. Wouldn't have been able to change it if I had known. He is what he is, and I'm determined not to be him."
"But you think you're like him cause you couldn't manage that kid yesterday, right? That you're a failure with children and always will be cause he was too selfish to figure out how to be a good father?"
"Well, Boss, the thought crossed my mind, that's for sure. Several times, in fact."
"Like you say, DiNozzo, reference points. You have none for kids, cause you've never had one or been allowed to be one. Doesn't mean you're like him or that you won't be a good father. Just means you have to start from scratch and learn some of what it's like to be a kid."
"I know I've told you before, Boss, but you're a smart guy, no matter what Fornell says."
"Don't give me all the credit, DiNozzo, Ducky was the one to enlighten me, I'm just the messenger."
"How did Ducky...you told him I was chewed up and spit out by a kid, Boss, how could you?"
"Calm down, Tony, I was just asking him what he thought about it, I wasn't throwing your problem in his face." Well, that was mostly the truth, he had gone to the wise M.E to council him on why his second seemed unable to relate to children.
"I just didn't understand it, and I needed a reference point myself. You're not a scary guy, DiNozzo, I mean, not when you don't want to be. I've seen you get a suspect singin' like Caruso by just being a laid back Everyday Joe. Couldn't figure out why it didn't translate to kids. But I get it now. And so should you. There's nothing wrong with you, Tony. You just need to learn how to think like a kid."
"I thought I already did, Boss. I get yelled at all the time for being immature and childish. Mainly by you."
"Matter of opinion, Tony. And the mood I'm in. .And it doesn't actually happen all the time, it just seems like it cause we spend so much time working together. Point is, they're two different things, you behaving like a brat, and knowing what it's like to be a kid. You've always had to think like an adult just to survive, you never had a chance to just relax and enjoy life without having to burn brain cells figuring out how to keep all the plates spinning. I thought maybe wood working would help ya relax and shut things off like it does for me."
Tony got up and filled his plate with the breakfast food, finally feeling comfortable enough to eat something.
"Not the woodworking that scares me, Boss. But that's another issue altogether, and I really don't want to go there with you or anyone else now, if ever. Let's just have breakfast and then go down there and putter. You can be Ozzie and I'll be Ricky."
"Don't make fun of the Nelsons, DiNozzo, they were good people."
"Not saying they weren't, Boss, I used to watch the show myself. Thought it was science -fiction, but like you say, perspective."
"Yeah, well, Ducky called me Geppetto, so I figured that makes you Pinocchio."
"Loved that movie, Boss." Tony admitted quietly. "That one I could relate to, wanting to be a real boy. I was always trying to prove to everyone that I was, but no one would listen. After a while I just gave up and acted whatever way they wanted me to for the occasion. It's how I got good at undercover work. Just give 'em what they want and they go away happy."
"I'm listening, Tony. You can keep running scared, or you can settle down for a while and see what it's like to learn to be still. Your choice. Either way, you belong to me, and I take care of my own, even if it means just making you breakfast or pulling you down off the ledge when things get too hairy. Take it for what it's worth, but I don't have to just be your boss, I can be your friend, too."
"Yeah, I know, Boss. And you are. And I really appreciate that. Just – don't expect a lot of Freudian confessions, some things are better left buried."
"Understood. And one more thing. Just because you couldn't measure up to your father's unreachable standards doesn't mean you don't reach mine. You've more than lived up to the expectations I had of you when I invited you here from Baltimore. No matter what Fornell says."
TBC – Just an epilogue to come after this...