Fic: Bottom of the Ninth (Gibbs/DiNozzo) - 3/4

[waldos_writings]

Title:  Bottom of the Ninth

Written for: anyothergirl415 at the ncis_ficathon
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 17,865 (posted in 4 parts)
Given Prompt:  Tony/Gibbs, a first date or Gibbs doing his best to woo Tony the way a proper gentleman would

Archive: Please ask first.

Summary:
 Gibbs realizes that if he and Tony are ever going to have a relationship, he's going to have to do something about it.  It takes almost a year, but he gets there eventually.
Author's Notes: Thanks every so much to Amadi for her beta job - done fantastically quickly for the size of this story.  She's the one who kept my ghosts from doing jumping jacks. :)

Bottom of the Ninth
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Tony woke up a little before seven. He looked worlds better for having had nearly twelve hours of sleep. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom and from there down the stairs where he found Gibbs sitting at the kitchen table flipping through a couple of computer print-outs.

Gibbs shifted in his chair in a way that Tony knew was carefully calculated to make it seem like he wasn’t trying to keep Tony from seeing the papers, even though that was exactly what he was doing. Without looking away from the papers, Gibbs slid a mug of coffee towards the chair Tony fell into. “There’s sugar,” he said nodding towards the one gallon Ziplock bag full of sugar.

Tony laughed at the lack of sugar bowl or even reasonably sized box of sugar cubes. He leaned back in his chair to get a spoon from the drawer behind him. He suspected Gibbs didn’t normally keep a bag of sugar in the house and was making a concession to the way Tony preferred his coffee. “Thanks. Got some cereal or something? My stomach’s finally settled and it’s reminding me that I didn’t exactly eat normally for the last few days.”

Gibbs set the papers down, ink-side-down and looked at Tony, carefully appraising him to see if he was as well as he professed to be. “We can get food on the way over to your place,” Gibbs said, sipping his own coffee, watching as Tony shoveled sugar into his coffee.

He watched, wondering why Tony’s face seemed to fall a little when Gibbs mentioned bringing him home. “You busy today?” Gibbs asked casually.

“Uh, no. I had no idea how long that undercover op would take. I didn’t make plans for next week, let alone this weekend.” Tony stirred his coffee for a few seconds before leaning back with the mug cradled in both hands.

“Good. I had Abby do me a favor last night. I don’t think you even heard her come in.” Gibbs slid the papers over to Tony.

“Abby was here?” Tony asked into his mug.

Gibbs snickered. “She stuck her head in to make sure that you were accounted for. You’d think the girl doesn’t trust me. You didn’t budge.”

Tony shrugged. Between the meds and the sleep deprivation while on the case, he wasn’t surprised that he’d been pretty unconscious that night. He flipped over the papers. The first one was a map of a baseball park, denoting different seating areas. The second was a receipt for a pair of ‘will-call’ tickets.

“We missed the softball playoff game. I figured at least we could go watch baseball. Abby showed me how to get tickets on-line,” Gibbs shrugged suddenly feeling self-conscious. He’d lay in bed for over an hour trying to decide if he should make any kind of indication to Tony that he’d like this to be something akin to a date and done little more than talk himself into it and back out of it again a dozen times. By the time he’d woken up he wasn’t sure the whole thing wasn’t a stupid idea. If for no other reason than he couldn’t remember being so nervous about planning a ‘date’ since he’d first asked Shannon out. With his other wives and anyone he’d dated between there’d been nothing to lose if they’d turned him down. Gibbs was suddenly very aware of how awkward he would make things for Tony if he knew that Gibbs had planned a date for them, but he wasn’t interested in things being like that between them.

After a minute of puzzlement, Tony’s face lit up. “Seriously? Just, you know… the two of us? I mean, is Abby coming?”

Tony was babbling a bit which Gibbs knew meant he’d somehow managed to make him uncomfortable. Gibbs decided that ‘not telling him’ was rapidly becoming the safer choice. “If you don’t want to go, DiNozzo – “

“No, no, I love the idea. Really. I haven’t gone to a pro game since I was like fifteen. Well, there was that pledge prank to sneak into an Indians game, but it was the Cleavland Indians… and we got caught and ejected by the bottom of the third…” He looked up to see Gibbs watching him, his expression half-way between amusement and concern. Tony dropped his eyes back to the papers, tapping them thoughtfully. “Seriously, boss, thanks. This’ll be fun.”

Gibbs smiled as he got up to get a refill. Maybe it would be okay after all.

~*~*~*~*~

They drove to Tony’s to let him clean up again and get some clothes. He’d already told Gibbs he could burn the things he’d worn undercover. “If I never see flannel again, I’ll die a happy camper.”

Gibbs hadn’t been in Tony’s apartment in over almost two years. In fact the last time he’d been there was when he’d helped Tony move into the place. It had been him, Pacci, and a couple of Tony’s college friends. Now everything was unpacked and neat and organized. Not at so much the bachelor pad he expected from Tony. But then again if he was bringing his dates back here, maybe it was pretty much exactly what he should have expected.

Tony came out of the bathroom while Gibbs was looking over the floor to ceiling bookcases that lined one wall. He had the thing packed with books, CDs, DVDs and a few old VHS tapes. Everything from old classic novels like Braham Stoker’s Dracula to the most recent travel guides for the U.K. and Ireland. Movies from Shirley Temple to Halloween V.

“I can make sandwiches for the road,” Tony said as he grabbed a pair of gym shoes from under the coffee table.

“Sounds good,” Gibbs said without turning away from his perusal of the shelf. “Need help?” he added belatedly.

“Nah, I’m good,” Tony said going into the kitchen. “I have roast beef from that deli down the street, peanut butter and jelly and…” there was a pause and a sniff. “Nevermind. No ham after all.”

Gibbs smiled at the ‘thunk’ of the ham hitting the trash. “Whatever you’re having is fine,” Gibbs told him. He came around and leaned on the breakfast bar as Tony fixed lunch and threw everything into a plastic shopping bag. “You look better,” he said after a while. “I’ll take it by the number of sandwiches you’re making, your stomach is better.”

Tony turned around with a huge grin on his face. Clearly he was pleased by the fact that Gibbs had noticed he was doing better, but Gibbs wasn’t quite sure why. He smiled back, glad that they were past that one weird moment at breakfast and ready to relax together.

By the time their lunches were made they realized they’d have to make pretty good time to Baltimore. About ten miles outside the city limits, Tony had Gibbs pull over and he drove them in, using side streets to avoid the congestion on the highways.

As they got into the city, Tony began playing tour guide. “Took a girl there to dinner once. It was awful. For that matter, so was she.” Gibbs almost spit out his coffee at that admission. “Busted the stupidest coke dealer under that bridge. Twice. Or was it three times?” “There was this one guy,” he glanced over at Gibbs before settling his eyes straight ahead on the road, “This guy I dated, he lived on the top floor of that building over there. Fantastic view.” His eyes darted over to Gibbs and back again before Gibbs could try and make eye contact.

Gibbs wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. He didn’t want to make the mistake of thinking that Tony was telling him that sort of thing for the reasons he wanted him to give him that kind of information. And he certainly didn’t want to give off the vibe that he disapproved in anyway.

“And down there,” Tony picked up the rambling narrative, “on that corner, was the first time I had to bag and tag a human hand. Damnedest MVA. Guy had his hand hanging out of the window when he got t-boned by a truck. He didn’t make it so we didn’t need to preserve the hand, so there’s me standing there with a guy’s hand and no clue what to do with it.”

Gibbs was glad Tony either hadn’t expected a response or was letting him off the hook. As they rounded the corner and joined the parking queue, Gibbs pointed up the next cross street. “Wasn’t that where we found that Lieutenant that brought me down here?”

Tony leaned towards him to look down the street out of Gibbs’ window. “Oh yeah, it was. About two more blocks north. Didn’t realize at the time that it was so close to the ballpark.”

Gibbs didn’t lean away when Tony leaned in. When Tony grinned at him and wiggled his eyebrows, Gibbs really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Tony was right there. If he grabbed his head and angled it just a tad, it would be really easy to kiss him.

It would also be really easy for Tony pull back and try and pretend like he wasn’t completely freaked out even though he really might be. And they had a whole baseball game to sit through together. Maybe better to leave any potentially embarrassing moves for the end of the night.

Once they’d parked, Gibbs bought a program from the first vendor they encountered and impressed Tony with his ability to actually keep track of the game. Once in a while the fact that it had been a few decades since he’d done it last popped up and Tony would look over his shoulder, “That should be a 6,” or, “Technically, that was a backwards K.”

Gibbs bought the first round of beers and Tony the second. They had hotdogs during the seventh inning stretch and Tony got popcorn as the game picked up again. He was finishing it as they walked back to the car. “Who knew you knew how to score a baseball game?”

Gibbs climbed into the driver’s seat. “Apparently I don’t, given all the times you had to correct me,” he grumbled good-naturedly.

“Three times. In, roughly, a half-a-billion plays,” Tony argued.

“My dad took me to see the Phillies once each summer. And I played Little League until I aged out.”

Tony sat up straight in his seat and looked at him quizzically. “You did?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Tony bit off a comment about ‘had they invented Little League back then?’ They were having a good day and he didn’t want to push his luck. “No, no, of course not. I just figured you as more of… I don’t know… the wrestling or football or something sort. Something where you got to kick someone’s ass.”

“Didn’t feel the need to kick anyone’s ass until after my mom died when I was sixteen.” He’d said it before he thought about it and had a brief moment of wanting to take it back. He didn’t talk about his mom. Ever. And never did he talk about how hard he’d taken it. How he’d run off to the Marines as soon as they’d agreed to take him. How that had been the first rift between his father and himself.

Tony turned to stare out his window. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

Gibbs nodded and there was a loaded silence in the car until they hit the highway again. He could see Tony shifting in his seat, trying to think of something to say that would break the tension, but not coming up with anything. Using the same trick Tony had, Gibbs stared straight out the windshield, focusing hard on the license plate on the car in front of him as he asked, “So the guy at the top of the condo building….” he started and then realized that he had no idea what he wanted to ask. What could he ask that wouldn’t be completely inane or that he could claim it was any of his business to ask about.

“What about him?” Tony asked after a minute. He didn’t seem put off by the topic coming up, but he wasn’t making an effort to make the conversation go any easier.

“Stuff like that happen a lot?” Gibbs asked, hoping that he was leaving the question open enough that Tony wouldn’t feel pressured to share anything he didn’t want to.

“What? Me in a steady relationship or me dating guys?” Tony asked flippantly.

Gibbs did turn and look at him then. Somehow it had never occurred to him that when Tony had said ‘dated’ that he’d meant more than once or twice. That Tony had ever been in a relationship with anyone. It seemed like he was constantly talking about some new girl.

Tony laughed at the gobsmacked look on Gibbs face before indicating that Gibbs might want to look back at the road. “A little from column A and a little from column B, eh? Yeah, both of them have been known to happen… neither terribly often.”

Gibbs nodded. “Well, you know my track record,” he said quietly, still wrapping his head around the fact that they were even having this conversation. That Tony didn’t seem totally put off by him asking about his dating habits – and his dating-guys habits. “Yeah, well, one of these days I’ll learn that marriage does not always equal commitment.”

Tony laughed. “One of these days,” he agreed.

“So,” Gibbs said, steering the conversation back around, “Who was he?”

“Who? Brett? He was a violinist for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. We met after he came into the station to file a report on his stolen violin. It was one of those really, really old expensive ones. Starts with an ‘S’ and I could never remember the name of the manufacturer. Anyway, after I took the report and sent a few uniforms out to canvas the area he’d been mugged in, he offered to buy me dinner.” Tony shrugged.

“Yeah? And?” Gibbs encouraged.

“And… we broke up about five months later. Weirdly enough it was over softball. I was playing on the PD’s team and he wanted to come to the games.” Tony sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that idea. He was a great guy, but I wasn’t out at work and I wasn’t looking to be. There was a serious undertone in that locker room, if you know what I mean.”

“I was a Marine, DiNozzo. Believe me, I get that.”

Tony canted his head and studied Gibbs, who went back to studying the car in front of them. “You get it because you’re a fair, open-minded kind of guy, or you get it?”

Gibbs gripped the steering wheel tighter. He’d started this conversation; he was in for it now. “I get it, Tony.”

“Huh,” Tony said simply turning to look back out the side window. “Who’d have thought?” He realized he was saying that a lot that evening.

There was another long silence after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Gibbs was pretty sure they were both feeling a little lighter now that it was out. If nothing else came out of this, Gibbs knew that at least if there was ever a need for one of them to talk, they had each other and they didn’t have to go through the weirdness of ‘okay, so I’ve been keeping this secret’ before getting to the point.

Tony, never able to be quiet for terribly long, finally began talking again just as they reached D.C. Gibbs listened to half an ear as Tony told some story that Abby’d told him that, he suspected, Abby had been told by someone else. He nodded and ‘uh-huh’ed periodically enough to make Tony think was really paying attention, but the truth was he was still processing the fact that he’d come out to Tony and that Tony had seemed to regard it as a not-bad thing, if not an actual good thing.

Gibbs pulled up to Tony’s building just as the streetlights were coming on. “We have first aid and CPR recertification on Monday, so don’t be late,” he said as Tony reached for the handle.

“It’s that time again already? Do they think we’ll forget or something?” Tony released the handle and sat back in his seat.

“Actually, yeah, I’m pretty sure that is what they think. It’s not exactly the kind of skill we use everyday. We’re more likely to make someone need first aid than to be the ones rendering it.”

“Fair point,” Tony conceded, reaching or the door-handle again. He noticed Gibbs open his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Something else, boss?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Uh, no.” He wanted there to be. He wanted to make small talk or suggest something else they could do. It wasn’t ridiculously late, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make it look like he was trying to keep Tony’s company. “See you Monday.”

Tony was looking at him a little sideways. Like he was trying to understand what was going on or deciding if he should do or say something or not. Gibbs squashed the rising impulse to see if this would be a good time to kiss him. They’d talked, come out to each other, but only in the general sense. Gibbs decided that that really needed to be enough for one night.

Finally Tony shrugged and smiled. “Okay, good night. Thanks for the game. I had a really good time.”

Gibbs smiled back. “Yeah, me too.”

~*~*~*~*~

Over the next few weeks, Tony didn’t talk much about dating or women, and Gibbs had to hope it meant something. But then again, work had been insane for almost two months straight. A transvestite suicide that lead to Tony chasing down the origin of a set of eyes in Paraguay kept them apart for a few days. Then there’d been meat puzzle that had Tony baby-sitting Ducky’s mother, that almost got Ducky killed.

It was two days after that that Tony had shown up around nine with pizza and beer. He didn’t knock – no one who knew him at all well did any more – and he didn’t announce himself. Gibbs just looked up between one small task and another and saw him standing at the top of the stairs holding dinner and watching him.

Damn good thing sniper training had taught him not to jump when startled or he probably would have rammed a Phillips head screwdriver through his hand. “Damnit, DiNozzo! What the hell are you doing up there.

“Watching you build a boat,” Tony said as if it were obvious.

“Yeah? How long you been up there ‘watching me build a boat’?” Gibbs leaned on the strut and watched Tony back.

“Few minutes. You must have been pretty far into your head not to notice me.” Tony came down and set the pizza on the workbench and the beer on the stairs.

“Something like that,” Gibbs answered. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to tell Tony he was still beating himself up for almost getting Ducky killed.

Tony moved to stand in Gibbs’ personal space. For the first time in years Gibbs had the instinct to back up, but he steeled himself for whatever Tony had to say to him.

“I’m gonna say this, and then we can go back to pretending nothing ever bothers you.”

Gibbs watched Tony, no longer sure where this was going.

“Ducky’s fine. You got there in time. And it wasn’t your fault. No one knew that a psychotic a little old undertaker lady could plan things like that. But at the end of the day, you got there in time and we caught her. And Ducky’s fine.”

Gibbs gave into his urge to step away, to put some space between himself and DiNozzo who, apparently, knew him way too well. He’d have to decide later if that was a comfort or disturbance.

“I should have had two agents there. You’d been with his mom all day – and I know Ducky’s mom - most days she doesn’t know me - but I know how tiresome she can be. I should have sent McGee with Kate.”

Tony moved back to the workbench and opened the pizza box, handing a piece to Gibbs with a look of ‘eat it whether you want it or not’. “We both know that NCIS can’t keep a one to one ratio for every household we have to protect. Ducky will never forgive me for this, but we were keeping two senior citizens safe in their own house. We shouldn’t have needed extra back-up.”

“But we did!” Gibbs barked, slamming his palm against the rib of the boat.

“Yeah. But we couldn’t know that then. And you found Ducky before anything could happen,” Tony reiterated.

“They started to bleed him,” Gibbs bit out.

“I know. He told me. He also told me that once we brought in the Addam’s family, you took him to Bethesda and stayed over last night to make sure he was okay. And he’s okay. So you need to let this one go. You also need to eat the rest of that pizza. You didn’t eat lunch.”

Gibbs blinked at the pizza still in his hand. One of the reasons he liked Tony from the beginning was his willingness to stand up to him; to very rarely be cowed by Gibbs attitude. To tell him how it was when Gibbs most needed to hear it.

He wondered when Tony had started paying enough attention to notice that he hadn’t had lunch.

He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. “I know,” he finally said. “I just don’t think I could live with myself if my screw up led to one of my team members getting killed.”

“Well, fortunately, you didn’t have to find out this time.” He uncapped a beer bottle by slamming the edge of the cap against the edge of the workbench. “Here, drink this. You need it.”

Gibbs took the beer and tipped it towards Tony. “Thanks, DiNozzo.”

Tony smiled around a mouthful of pizza. “Any time.”

~*~*~*~*~

Then there’d been a dead naval lieutenant that had McGee running through a car wash (and while Gibbs tended to stay out of DiNozzo’s ‘training’ of the Probie, he did kind of wish Tony had been there to see that), followed by Gibbs getting his ass kicked by a college ROTC officer who’d killed his own cadets to cover up raping another one of them.

That case had gotten on every last one of Gibbs’ nerves. Every last one. For the first time in a long time he hadn’t had any problems keeping his feelings for Tony in check. He’d wanted to kill him, repeatedly throughout the case. All that time on a college campus turned Tony back into a boneheaded frat boy and Gibbs couldn’t take it. Tony’s normal level of immaturity and silliness was one thing, but he and Kate had escalated it to a whole new level.

He’d found it mildly amusing that when he’d come back from what they’d dubbed his ‘panty raid’ at the sorority house and had demanded that his team tell him where Abby was, Tony’d snapped to attention. Tony liked to pretend that he didn’t have a military bone in his body, but Gibbs had figured out that four years at Rhode Island Military Academy had left a few lasting impressions. And it was likely that Tony’s father did as well. But ever since Tony had come to work for him, when Gibbs’ mood got bad enough, Tony began snapping to attention like any green Marine recruit. And for reasons Gibbs didn’t want to examine to closely, that never failed to amuse him.

He wondered if Tony knew that. If he was doing it in order to take just a little stress off him. Or if maybe he really was afraid that one day Gibbs would haul off and hit him somewhere other than the back of the head.

He preferred to think that Tony knew him well enough that it was the first reason.

But now that the case was all over but the paperwork, Gibbs wanted to collapse. He had more than a few bumps and bruises from his fight, but what was really bothering him was what he suspected was a cracked rib. And he wasn’t completely sure he didn’t have a mild concussion. Not that he had any intention of letting anyone know any of this. If by some chance Ducky was still in the office when he got back to do his report, he might let him have a look at the rib.

He dispatched McGee to take the Midshipman – midshipwoman, whatever – home and told DiNozzo and Todd to take Leeka in for processing.

He headed for his desk, a bottle of aspirin and his paperwork. He wanted to get home and have this case in his rearview mirror a.s.a.p.

He was almost done with the last form when he felt as much as saw a shadow fall over his desk. He looked up without moving his head. Tony was standing in front of him, almost at attention before Gibbs even got a chance to bark at him.

“Look,” Tony said before Gibbs could say anything, “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see tonight, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last couple days.”

Gibbs opened his mouth to interrupt, but Tony held up a hand, “I know, you think apologies are a sign of weakness, but I was pretty far out of line and I want you to know that I know and… it won’t happen again.”

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and studied Tony in the low light of the bullpen in the late evening. “Apology accepted,” he said after a minute. “Now, get lost. I want to get this done. If you’ve got Leeka processed, you can do your report in the morning.” He honestly wanted Tony to go home. The last thing he needed was Kate realizing that Tony stayed, so she’d stay and they’d end up bickering and his head would explode.

“Kate’s finishing it. And I have everything I need to do my report on my laptop. I figured that since I’m sure you didn’t see a doctor and I’m sure you did get your head knocked around, maybe I should give you a lift home.”

“I’m fine, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said with as much patience as he could muster. He was completely torn if he was honest with himself. He was still a little annoyed with Tony’s antics lately, but at the same time it had been a long time since someone had fussed over him when he wasn’t feeling so well.

“Look, Gibbs, after Atlas, after White… you didn’t let me go home alone. Hell, you didn’t let me go home at all. You knew I wasn’t feeling well, and it kind of sucks to have to look after yourself when you’re not feeling so good. I’ll drive you home, and stay out of your way unless you need something.” He held up a pair of earbuds, “I promise to wear these if I put some music on while I do my reports, and no DVDs at night. I know you don’t want to be hovered over, but…” Tony shrugged. He wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. Maybe there was something to the conventional wisdom of staying well clear of Gibbs when he was pissed.

Gibbs sighed, but reached into his pocket and tossed Tony the keys to his car. Meet me out front in fifteen minutes. He caught sight of Kate coming from the elevator and felt the need to protect his image, “But so help me, if I hear one damn video game or movie or –“

Tony smiled and there was an instant understanding that Gibbs was sounding off entirely for Kate’s benefit. “Got it, boss.”



Gibbs had to admit, Tony was true to his word. He’d driven Gibbs back, bummed a pair of sweats, since his were now at home and left him alone.

Once Gibbs had stripped down to his shorts and t-shirt and scrubbed his face, he crawled into bed, leaving his door open. He tried to turn on his side, but hissed as his bruised cheek protested the contact with the pillow.

“Hey,” Tony said, suddenly nearby, wincing in sympathy as Gibbs did. “I got you an ice pack.” He hesitated in the doorway. “For… your face. That looks kind of… um…”

Gibbs wished Tony wouldn’t feel so awkward. He’d let him come over after all. He wasn’t going to complain if Tony wanted to help him feel better. He hadn’t looked at the bruises when he’d cleaned up, but he was pretty sure the one around his right eye had to be pretty spectacular judging by how it felt. He shuffled back onto his back, hissing as his rib protested. He flung one arm out in Tony’s general direction. “Thanks, Tony.” Without turning to look, he wrapped his fingers around the plastic bag of ice Tony deposited in it and lowered it gently over the whole right side of his face. He took in a breath to let out a sigh, but it caught in his throat as his rib protested again. “Hey Tony?”

“Yeah, boss, right here.”

Gibbs could hear Tony’s stocking feet shuffle over the carpet closer to him. “One more thing?”

“Sure,” Tony said without even asking what it was.

“One more ice pack? I went over a table. Rib caught on the corner.”

“Got it,” Tony said quickly. “Hey, Gibbs, should I maybe call Ducky and see –“

“Do not bother Ducky, Tony. At the very worst it’s cracked. He’s going to tell me to put ice on it and take aspirin. And I already took the aspirin.”

When Gibbs looked up, Tony was frowning down at him, worried. Gibbs realized that he’d probably never admitted to any kind of pain to Tony or anyone on his team before. “So a little ice and some sleep and I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Tony turned on his heel, “Apparently your cracked ribs heal a hell of a lot faster than mine do, if you think you’ll be okay in the morning.”

“I’m fine, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said actually getting a little irritated now. He wanted ice and he wanted sleep. It occurred to him that he’d kind of like Tony to lay down with him if he could get it, but whatever had started happening in the car on the way to the ball game was happening at something slower than a snail’s pace and he wasn’t willing to risk the endgame for someone to snuggle with when he wasn’t sure that snuggling wouldn’t make the rib worse anyway.

Tony came back a few minutes later with another kitchen towel wrapped around another bag of ice. He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully pulled Gibbs’ white t-shirt out of the way. “Oh, that looks nasty.”

Gibbs picked his head up and looked down at the livid purple bruise with an almost black line where he’d impacted the edge of the heavy wooden table. No wonder that hurt. Maybe it wouldn’t kill him to let Ducky have a look in the morning after all.

Tony gently placed the ice over the bruise and pulled Gibbs’ shirt down to hold it in place. “Need anything else? More aspirin?”

“I took three at the office,” Gibbs told him. The ice made breathing easier since the dull throb of his ribcage expanding was easing. He felt the adrenaline of the day wearing off and his eyes slipped shut of their own accord. “I’m fine, Tony. Go on and get yourself to bed.”

“You’re sure?” Tony asked and immediately bit his lip. He’d promised not to hover.

“I’m sure. And you’re just down the hall if something comes up. I just want to sleep.”

He grimaced as he heard the bedsprings creak as Tony got up. Not only did it jostle his ribs, but despite his words, he wasn’t all that keen on Tony leaving.

“Alright,” Tony whispered as he tugged the blankets back around Gibbs chest. Gibbs couldn’t suppress the smile that crossed his face as he felt Tony gently stroke his fingers through his hair before leaving. “I’m leaving both bedroom doors open. I mean it, call me if you need anything.”

“I’m fine, DiNozzo,” Gibbs insisted as he settled in for the night.




Gibbs woke up to find that at some point Tony had come in and taken the ice packs, which explained why he didn’t wake up in a small lake. He also smelled coffee brewing.

He carefully pulled himself out of bed, wincing as both his ribs and his face protested any movement. His left leg and wrist were also complaining about last night’s workout. He managed to pull a pair of jeans on over his briefs and staggered out to the kitchen. Tony had a cup of coffee next to his laptop and he was pecking away at his report.

“Hey, boss, how you feeling? Better for having slept? Worse for it being the second day?”

Gibbs collapsed into the chair next to Tony and helped himself to Tony’s coffee. “Oh, god, how can you drink coffee like this?”

“It’s just little sugar and some milk,” Tony responded, getting up and grabbing another mug from the shelf. He poured Gibbs a coffee and set it in front of him. “Here, have one your way.”

“Thank you,” Gibbs said wrapping both hands around the ceramic and taking a long drink to rinse out the sickly sweet aftertaste of Tony’s coffee. He looked at the clock on the microwave. “I suppose I better go get dressed if we’re going to swing past your place and still get to work on time.”

“I showered before you got up. If I can borrow a shirt, I won’t need to go home.”

Gibbs shrugged one shoulder, carefully avoiding moving his offended rib. “Sure, there’s shirts in the closet. I’m going to get in the shower.”

Tony was wearing one of Gibbs’ white Oxfords with his jeans when Gibbs came out of the shower. Gibbs very suddenly understood why Tony liked his tailored shirts so much. Gibbs’ shirt sat kind of funny on him, like the shoulders weren’t exactly in the right place and the sleeves were just a tad too short. Tony didn’t seem to care too much though, and Gibbs had to admit that in a completely sappy way that he would never admit to out loud, he kind of liked the idea of Tony wearing his clothes.