Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 001 Word Count: 3576
Character(s): Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo
Category(ies): Episode Related, Romance
Episode(s): 3-11 Model Behavior
Summary: "So," Gibbs picked up the thread of their earlier conversation while he waited for his coffee. "You're saying that none of this would have happened to George Clooney?"
Author Notes: Episode tag for 3x11 - Model Behaviour
Tony winked at the nurse and followed her directions to the staff sergeant's room. She'd just come on shift, so she couldn't tell Tony if McMannis was awake or not. They'd detoxed him after he'd been transported to Bethesda, so now it was just a matter of how his liver stood up to the drugs.
He peeked in the doorway. McMannis was out cold, but he looked better. Tony eased into the room and laid the latest issues of Sports Illustrated and Maxim on the nightstand. He'd checked to make sure none of the Bootcamp Babes were featured before he bought them.
"He's going to be fine."
Tony jumped, much as he had earlier that day, at the sound of Gibbs's voice. "Jeez, Boss!" He should have known that Gibbs would be here. "That's...good to know."
Gibbs sat in a hard chair, in the shadows at the far end of the room. "I thought I told you to go home."
"Yeah, you did. I justó-I feel bad for the guy." Tony glanced around, but McMannis hadn't stirred. "He was just a regular joe until he got involved with these...people and ended up getting screwed."
Gibbs stood and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Meaning he should have known better than to get involved with a woman so far out of his league?"
Tony shrugged. "She's dead. He's half dead. Not exactly a storybook ending."
Gibbs watched McMannis for a moment. "You think they've still got coffee somewhere in this place?"
"The galley's open all night." Tony smiled, remembering. "But you already knew that."
Gibbs nodded. "Let's go."
When the elevator arrived, Gibbs pushed the button for the main floor. "Uh, Boss, the cafeteria's in the basement across from Nuclear Medicine."
"And the coffee there tastes like bilge water from a nuclear submarine."
They got off the elevator and Tony followed Gibbs down a hall and around several corners. Even the Kennedy was probably easier to navigate than this place. But since Gibbs had pretty much haunted the Bethesda halls the whole time Tony had been stuck here last spring, Tony figured he probably had every source of caffeine mapped in his head. Eventually, they arrived at a small alcove where an ancient machine that advertised "Hot Drinks" stood across from a small vinyl sofa.
Gibbs fed a dollar into the machine and it whirred to life. "So," Gibbs picked up the thread of their earlier conversation while he waited for his coffee. "You're saying that none of this would have happened to George Clooney?"
"Of course not!" Tony dropped some quarters into an equally ancient candy machine and retrieved a box of Junior Mints from the tray. "Are you kidding? That manager scumbag would have loved it if Taylor had hooked up with someone Clooney-esque." He popped a couple of mints into his mouth. The filling was kind of dry, but it didn't taste too stale. "Hence, no reason to spike the chew."
"If he's not allowed to date models, who does the Marine get? Is there a list somewhere?" The machine released a paper cup of barely steaming coffee. Gibbs took it and propped himself against one arm of the couch, eyeing Tony a little cynically. "Hey, maybe that was my problem--I married off the list."
"I don't make the rules, Boss." Tony offered the mints to Gibbs, but he waved them away. "I hate the rules. If I liked the rules, you think I'd be here doing this now? No. I'd have a corner office in mid-town Manhattan, a pretty wife"--he smiled wryly--"prettier secretary."
"And be so bored you'd be ready to chew off a leg to escape." Gibbs moved to the couch proper.
"Exactly." Tony shook a couple more Junior Mints from the box and sat on the opposite arm of the sofa. "But most guys like Staff Sergeant McMannis can't buck the system and get away with it like you and me."
"I bucked the system?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I enlisted when I was seventeen and got married when I was twenty-one, DiNozzo, just like my old man."
"Yeah, but come on, Gibbs." Tony grinned. "You make your own rules now -- twenty-three of them and counting."
"That doesn't mean I can do everything I want to do," Gibbs said softly.
"No, of course not!" Tony noted the change in Gibbs's demeanor, but didn't want to think too hard about what it meant. He'd been wrong before. "Like, for example, when your boss orders you to show up to accept an award, you're all over it. Right?"
"I don't do tea parties, DiNozzo."
"And you sure don't want the hardware."
"I earned all the hardware I'll ever need in places a damn sight scarier than DC. Besides," Gibbs focused on the coffee cup in his hands, turning it slowly. "I know where to find them if I change my mind."
A dark flush rose up Tony's neck. He should have known Gibbs knew what he did with those medals. It was entirely possible, Tony realized, that Gibbs had actually seen him with the latest one. It sure as hell wouldn't be the first time Gibbs had snuck up on him. "I'm just...I mean I just thought someday maybe you'd wantó"
"Relax, Tony. It's not important." Gibbs looked up at him. "I've got pretty much everything I want right now."
He could study Gibbs for years and never really understand him. He'd been studying Gibbs for years and thought he was making a some progress. But Tony had noticed he'd been different over the last little while. Relaxed. Maybe a bit playful. He smiled inwardly, thinking of Gibbs addressing McGee as "Elf Lord." "You do?"
Gibbs nodded. "Pretty much. Not everything."
Tony sucked on a mint, speculatively. "You'd be ready to chew a leg off if you had everything you want. No reason to get up in the morning."
"Well," Gibbs looked Tony in the eye. "I can think of a few things I still need. Think I'd still get up in the morning if I had them, too."
Tony felt the tingle he always got when Gibbs looked at him like that. Sometimes, the tingle came from fear when he knew he'd screwed up. Sometimes, like now, it was...something else. He ate a few more Junior Mints, then put the box in his pocket. He wished he had something to wash them down with. And when did it get so hot in here? "Like what?"
"A few things." Gibbs settled more comfortably into the couch. "A hand with the boat every once in a while. Maybe a good coffee maker."
Gibbs's steady gaze was making Tony a little squirmy. He got up to take a chance on what passed for coffee from the machine--and to put a little distance between himself and Gibbs. What the hell is this? While he waited for the paper cup to fill, he decided to push back a little and see what happened. "Percolator or drip?" He pulled the cup out of the holder and took a sip. "Because I know you don't want a Gaggia."
"What's a Gaggia?"
"One of those fancy Italian bad boys." Tony answered with a smile and sat down next to Gibbs. He didn't want to crowd him, but the couch wasn't all that large. Now it was Tony's turn to flip on the laser beam stare. "They'll do everything but your taxes."
"I don't know." Gibbs held his gaze for a moment, then looked down. "Maybe I need one of those fancy Italian bad boys."
Tony took another sip of what tasted like warm water with a brown crayon dipped in it. His heart thumped oddly in his chest, as Gibbs's last comment registered. Be cool, Tony.
"You know, Gibbs, Tommy Lee has a Starbucks in his house." He maintained his teasing tone. "But I'd stay away from baristas. They keep you up all night and leave coffee grounds in your sink."
"There's probably a rule against Marines falling for baristas anyway." Gibbs had shifted slightly, one knee now brushing Tony's leg.
"Yeah." Tony glanced around. It seemed that nobody else in the entire National Naval Medical Centre knew about this alcove. He drained the cup of crayon water. "There are a lot of rules about those things. For Marines."
"Good thing I'm an NCIS agent." The green vinyl of the sofa creaked softly.
Tony could feel Gibbs's eyes on him. This is not a drill.
There'd been a near-miss last year. Tony had been working on his hand-to-hand and wanted to show off for Gibbs during one of the team's regular close-combat training sessions. After a heated struggle, he'd managed to pin Gibbs. For once. He'd held him down for a minute to gloat, then froze when he felt the unmistakable pressure against his groin. Gibbs wasn't wearing a cup. It was one of those moments that you look back on later with perfect recall: the feel of Gibbs's bare legs against his own, the way Gibbs smelled of clean laundry and coffee and sweat, the way his breath caught, the look in his eyes.
Gibbs had thrown him off and hit the shower. Tony rolled over and lay face down on the mat for longer than was strictly necessary, his thoughts alive with possibilities. Later, they'd been alone in the car on the way back from an interview. Gibbs was driving like somebody's grandmother and the sedan seemed very small, what with the giant elephant sitting between them.
"DiNozzo?" Gibbs's eyes were fixed on the road.
"Next time we're doing close-combat, you'll work with Kate." Gibbs glanced at him quickly. Tony couldn't get a read on him, couldn't tell if Gibbs was apologizing or giving him the brush-off.
"Gibbs, I --"
"You'll work with Kate." He hit the accelerator and the conversation was over.
Tony had analyzed the incident every way he could think of. He finally fell back on Rule Number Twelve and figured it must be the chain-of-command thing--but then there was the way Gibbs had been when Tony was in Fornell's holding cell. And now this. But last time he checked, Gibbs was still his boss. And Tony made it a point of pride never to make the same mistake twice. "I guess we should--"
"Yeah." The pressure of Gibbs's knee against his leg increased minutely. "We should go get some real coffee."
"Kinda late for coffee, don't you think?" Tony answered warily.
"I know a place." Gibbs gave Tony a slightly more than friendly pat on the knee as he stood up and dumped his untouched coffee cup into a trashcan. "Out in Takoma Park, but it's worth the drive."
"That would be your place." Tony looked up at Gibbs. "Boss."
"That's right." Gibbs took the empty paper cup from Tony's hand, crumpled it and tossed it into the trashcan.
"Maybe I could give you that hand with your boat."
"Maybe you could show me how to make a good pot of coffee, too."
Tony stood up. He was as close to Gibbs as two men could get in a public place. Fish or cut bait. "Maybe in the morning?"
"Well, that's what I was thinking." He let the back of his hand graze Tony's fingers. "You ready?"
Tony gave Gibbs a cocky grin. "Are you ready?"
"I'm a Marine, Tony." Gibbs headed out of the alcove, not turning to see if DiNozzo was following. "I'm always ready."
Tony's Mustang rumbled to a stop in the driveway behind Gibbs's sedan. He had his seatbelt off and was out the door before Gibbs had time to get out of his car.
"Slow down, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, just loud enough for Tony to hear. "The front door's locked."
Tony stepped aside as he closed the car door. He followed as Gibbs made his unhurried way up the front porch steps, keys rattling slightly in his hand. It was quiet enough in this neighbourhood during the day, but this late at night, Tony could actually hear the soft echo of their footsteps.
He held the screen door open while Gibbs slid his key into the lock, then stepped up close, his lips lightly brushing the back of Gibbs's neck. Tony smiled at Gibbs's start of surprise. He didn't think he'd ever seen Gibbs show surprise at anything. "Having trouble with the keys there, Boss?"
The door swung open and Gibbs stepped inside. As soon as Tony had cleared the threshold, he found himself staggering back against the closing door, propelled by Gibbs's hands and body and insistent mouth on his.
Tony tried to get his own hands on Gibbs, but he was pinned by the arms and could only respond with his lips as Gibbs pressed into him. If this is payback for beating him in hand-to-hand that time, Tony thought, I might have to do some extra training. Maybe Ziva can show me some moves. But thoughts of anyone but Gibbs, any place but right here, were driven out when Gibbs's hands slid over his chest. He opened Tony's shirt buttons carefully, one at a time, leaning in to kiss the exposed skin.
Tony's hands were free now and he put them to good use, stroking Gibbs's hair, skimming over his shoulders, then tightening on his biceps as the kisses got harder and hotter against Tony's skin. He needed more; he wanted to feel the length of Gibbs's body against his, to let Gibbs feel what he had done to him, but all he could do was hold on as Gibbs's mouth explored every inch of skin as he laid it bare.
Thanking the prescience (and failure to do his laundry) that made him skip wearing an undershirt today, Tony arched up as Gibbs's lips ghosted over his navel. He let his head fall back with a solid thunk against the door when he realized Gibbs was sliding to his knees. "Gibbs," he bit his lip when he felt Gibbs's mouth over the bulge in his jeans. "Gibbs, you don't...you don't have to--"
"Shut up, DiNozzo," Gibbs murmured against the fabric, his hands rubbing firmly over Tony's thighs. "Just relax for me, okay?"
"Relax," Tony repeated, feeling about as far from relaxed as you could get short of a heart attack. "Okay." A sharply indrawn breath as Gibbs opened his belt buckle. "Yeah. I'm relaxed now."
The brush of Gibbs's fingers against his cock as he slowly and deliberately unfastened each button on Tony's jeans was enough to make him squirm helplessly against Gibbs's hand. "I said relax, Tony. You have someplace to be later?"
One button. Two. He stopped counting after that and closed his eyes. Relax. Right. He felt Gibbs slide his jeans down, just far enough to get them out of the way, and his hands slipping under the waistband of Tony's boxers, pulling him away from the door. The heat of Gibbs's breath leached through the thin cotton and Tony willed himself to stay still while Gibbs's hands moved slowly over his ass.
"That's right," he heard Gibbs say as if from a long way away, "that's good, Tony." Gibbs's mouth was impossibly hot on his skin, even through the boxers, and Tony wanted more. He allowed a small sound to escape from deep in his throat. This was, apparently, the right thing to do--Gibbs pushed his boxers down, wrapped one hand around him and sucked hard on the head of Tony's cock.
The slow tease had driven him to the point where the feel of Gibbs's lips tight around him, Gibbs's tongue flickering against the tip of his cock while he sucked, was almost too much. Tony tried to pull away a little, but the door was right there against his back. "Please," he whispered, unwilling to let it end too quickly. He had a reputation to keep up.
Gibbs's lips softened a little. He moved his hand away and took Tony deeper into his mouth, his tongue now swirling slowly around the shaft. Tony let his breath out; he hadn't realized he'd been holding it. He rested more comfortably against the door and combed his fingers through Gibbs's hair as he looked down at him. This was, quite possibly, the hottest thing he'd ever seen--Gibbs on his knees, still wearing his coat and scarf, head bowed over Tony's cock with his fingers digging into his hips. Tony let the sensation wash over him.
This was all incredibly...unexpected. What the hell had gotten Gibbs from You'll work with Kate to Relax, DiNozzo--I'm going to suck you off in my front hall? But Tony decided he'd play detective later. Right now, he needed to...oh yeah. He needed to hold Gibbs still for a minute. He needed to just slide his dick in and out of that hot mouth, just...like that.
Gibbs made encouraging sounds, the vibration enhancing what Tony now decided was the best blow job he'd ever had. Possibly the best blow job ever. Period. He could feel it everywhere--his balls, his ass, his fucking ears felt like they were about to come. He thrust a little harder as Gibbs's hands slid back to squeeze his ass.
"Gibbs..." Tony knew the drill. Just because a guy got on his knees for you didn't mean he necessarily wanted your load down his throat. He indulged in a few more deep thrusts, then pulled out, preparing to finish himself off with his hand. But Gibbs had other plans. He captured Tony with his mouth again, concentrating his lips and tongue on the head while he stroked and gently twisted the shaft.
This drew inarticulate moans--punctuated by salutations to various divine figures--from Tony. Beyond cognitive thought, he couldn't stop now if he wanted to. The fingers of one hand dug into Gibbs's scalp and he hung onto the doorknob with the other as he came, white hot and hard.
It took a little while for Tony to come back to himself--what with having my brains sucked out through my dick and all, he thought a little wildly. Gibbs got to his feet with experienced grace, pressing against Tony as he went. Tony pulled him closer, kissing him softly, letting his tongue graze over Gibbs's lips. He could taste himself there, salt and bitter. That never got old, no matter who he was kissing.
Gibbs's breath came faster as Tony's mouth moved down over his throat. "Let's take this upstairs."
"I'm not sure my legs work," Tony murmured against Gibbs's neck.
"They'll work." Gibbs had already turned toward the stairs, draping his coat over the bannister. "Move it, DiNozzo."
Tony followed, yanking his pants up as he went.
Gibbs's bedroom was a blur of hands and legs entwining, soft breath and sharp words, teasing, and sweat-slicked skin. Tony heard a gentle question, gave an urgent answer, and they were locked together, Gibbs deep inside him like he'd always been there. Like he'd always be there.
Tony sprawled bonelessly on Gibbs's lumpy bed, well-fucked and worn out. He didn't normally like to fall asleep in any bed but his own after the sex portion of the evening had ended, but tonight seemed like a good time to make an exception. Gibbs had gotten up to do something, Tony wasn't sure what, but he could hear Gibbs's bare feet padding across the hardwood floor. He couldn't help himself; his eyes were closing.
He woke slowly, knowing exactly where he was, if not exactly why. Gibbs wasn't there and Tony had no idea how long he'd slept. He pulled his shorts on and went to investigate. Gibbs wasn't in the bathroom. He stood in the hall for a minute, then knew where to look.
Gibbs didn't look up when Tony came down the basement steps. He had a piece of wood braced between his knees, holding a second piece against it with one hand and trying to apply a clamp to the joint with the other. Silently, Tony put a hand on each piece of wood and pressed the joint together. Gibbs slipped the clamp in place and tightened it, wiping the glue that seeped out with his thumb.
Tony took a sip of coffee from Gibbs's mug. A hand with the boat, he'd said. And maybe a good coffee maker. Tony held a second joint in place and watched as Gibbs glued and clamped it. He thought about saying it out loud--Why now, Boss? But maybe it didn't matter why. Maybe it was enough that it was.
Gibbs looked at him with one of those half-given smiles. "You really want to know, Tony?"
Gotta remember never to play poker with this man. Tony shrugged awkwardly.
Gibbs put the joint down and slid his arms around Tony, pulling him close, brushing his lips over Tony's ear. "I figured I better grab you before you caught another plague, or got kidnapped, or landed in jail. Again." He kissed his way to Tony's mouth. "I'm also pretty sure McGee's going to shoot you any day now."
"So," Tony murmured against Gibbs's lips, slipping a hand up to stroke the back of his neck. "About Rule Twelve?"
"Is it really more of a guideline, or am I the exception?"
"You're definitely the exception." He let one hand graze Tony's ass. "I'm calling it the Clooney Codicil."
"Really?" Tony dipped his head to drop a kiss at the base of Gibbs's throat. "Cool."