Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 001 Word Count: 4628
Character(s): Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo
Category(ies): Angst/Drama, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Summary: It would be too easy to just assume that Gibbs was meeting that redhead for a nooner - that was what Tony's head was telling him. But other parts weren't convinced.
Author Notes: Many thanks to malnpudl for a wonderful beta that added so much to this story.
Tony backed Gibbs up against the workbench, hands moving over the soft folds of the blue t-shirt, hungry to taste Gibbs's skin.
It had been a long day.
Gibbs seemed to agree. He slipped his hands into the back pockets of Tony's jeans and pulled him in close, pressing against him with everything he had -- mouth, hands, cock, all silent hunger and impatience.
Tony had been hard almost from the moment Gibbs had said, "See you later, DiNozzo." 'Later' meant Tony would go home, find something to do to kill a few hours, then head out to Gibbs's place, no earlier than 21:00.
It was a booty call. You couldn't characterize it as anything more and Tony had disciplined himself not to expect more from Gibbs. Mostly.
At least one night a week -- more if they weren't ass-deep in a major case -- Gibbs would give Tony the "See you later" signal and Tony would show up ready for whatever Gibbs had in mind.
He writhed a little as Gibbs's teeth grazed his throat. "What do you want, Tony?" Gibbs murmured against his skin. "Anything you want tonight." He pulled Tony closer, one hand sliding up under Tony's shirt, rubbing cool circles on his warm skin. Gibbs was wearing a well-worn pair of sweatpants, and even through his own jeans, Tony could feel how hard Gibbs was for him.
"Anything I want?" Tony bent his head so Gibbs's lips would brush his ear. "Can I have your car?"
Gibbs took the bait and teased the shell of Tony's ear with his tongue. A warm whisper followed. "You don't want my car."
"You're right," Tony agreed. "I want your ass."
Gibbs gave him a half smile. "Decisive. Good." Gibbs pushed Tony away a little and turned to extract a bottle of lube from his workbench drawer.
Tony wondered if Always have lube within reach was one of Gibbs's private rules. He leaned in and kissed the back of Gibbs's neck, reaching around to stroke his straining cock through the sweats.
"'Gun Oil'," he read over Gibbs's shoulder. "Always a good choice for the discerning military man." Gibbs pressed back against him and Tony felt himself getting even harder. He increased the pressure on Gibbs's cock and moved his other hand over his belly and chest. He loved it like this, having Gibbs encased in his arms, feeling Gibbs moving against him, taking his time and really feeling Gibbs's response to every touch.
"Tony," Gibbs's voice was barely above a whisper, but still held a note of command. "You gonna fuck me or what?"
DiNozzo smiled against Gibbs's neck. "You said "anything." Maybe I want to just do this --" He rubbed a thumb over Gibbs's nipple. "Unless you're not having fun, Boss."
"Oh, I'm having fun, DiNozzo." Gibbs bent his head to one side, leaving more skin vulnerable to attack. "Lots and lots of" -- he shivered a little as Tony bit lightly on the spot between his neck and shoulder -- "good, clean fun."
He thrust more urgently against Tony's hand. Tony eased off a little. He wasn't going to let it be over that fast. Gibbs had said "anything," and getting Gibbs hot and bothered like this was exactly what he wanted tonight.
"The party's just getting started," he whispered into Gibbs's ear. He pulled away just enough to unbutton his jeans and slide Gibbs's pants down. As he stepped out of the sweats, Gibbs tried to push back, but Tony barely grazed Gibbs's ass with his dick, holding him firmly by the hips so he couldn't push back any further. Tony teased himself, the underside of his cock tracing a light line down the middle of Gibbs's ass until they were both panting and Gibbs was muttering low curses.
He reached for the lube and squeezed some out just over Gibbs's tailbone so it drizzled into the crack. More lube on his fingers, tracing a deeper line until Gibbs pushed back against them, but Tony wouldn't be rushed. He'd waited long enough for Gibbs to figure out that having Tony 'on his six' like this was a good thing.
Tony moved his other hand over until his fingers brushed the head of Gibbs's cock, and Gibbs made that sound deep in his throat, the one that always made Tony rethink the whole concept of not rushing.
He wrapped his hand loosely around Gibbs's dick, moving up and down, circling the head lightly with his palm every once in awhile, just enough to keep Gibbs on the edge while he slowly pushed his fingers inside him. Tony could see the muscles in Gibbs's forearms standing out against his skin as he braced himself on the workbench.
Tony twisted his fingers, feeling Gibbs yield. Just knowing he could make Gibbs open up for him like this -- literally and figuratively -- was more than Tony had ever expected. Sure, after some initial awkwardness, the easy rhythm they had together at work carried over into sex, but Tony's cocky self-assurance at the office and in the field didn't translate quite the same way. At work, he was Gibbs's Senior Field Agent and he knew what that meant. But right here, at this moment, as he pulled his fingers away and slid the tip of his cock into Gibbs, Tony wasn't entirely sure where he stood.
"Fuck, DiNozzo," Gibbs rasped, alternately thrusting into Tony's hand and trying to get more of Tony's cock inside him, "fuck me."
That note in Gibbs's voice shot straight to Tony's dick. He grasped Gibbs's hips and pulled him in tight, pushing in as slowly as he could. Gibbs took his own cock in hand and jacked himself, slowly at first, then faster, as Tony began to thrust harder and deeper inside him.
Tony bent his knees a little to adjust the angle. He knew he'd hit it just right when a low rumble from deep in Gibbs's chest rose to a full-out moan. "Christ, Tony. Right there."
When he felt Gibbs tighten around him, Tony reached for Gibbs's dick, batting his hand away, stroking and twisting. Gibbs gripped the workbench. "You feel good, Gibbs," Tony murmured, his mouth pressed against Gibbs's neck. "So good."
And he did. Tony had never felt like he fit with someone like he did with Gibbs. Like Gibbs had been carved out and shaped just for him.
"Just like that, Tony," Gibbs ground out through gritted teeth. "Just like -- fuck!" Gibbs came hard, squeezing Tony right over the edge with him. Tony's legs were trembling, his chest heaving against Gibbs's back. Love you…
"Tony." Gibbs's voice seemed farther away than it should be. Tony blinked a few times, not sure if he'd fallen asleep on his feet. His arms were wrapped around Gibbs, who was still braced against the workbench. He pulled out of Gibbs slowly; he was weak in the knees. Actually weak. A deep breath and then he snapped out of the fog, releasing Gibbs and kicking himself all the way out of his jeans.
There usually wasn't much in the way of conversation after these episodes. Tony would shower in the small bathroom off the kitchen and let himself out. So he was surprised when Gibbs called to him as he headed for the stairs. "Hang on a minute."
Tony stopped, feeling slightly ridiculous with his dick peeking out below his shirt. Gibbs had pulled on his sweats, but still hadn't turned around. Tony tensed up. I didn't say that…thing out loud, did I?
"You want to stick around?"
"Yeah." The answer came before Tony had finished processing the question.
"Upstairs bathroom." Gibbs turned around and gave Tony a half-smile. "You can use the tub."
Tony hadn't showered in that bathroom since the last time he'd had to camp out in Gibbs's guest room. Back then, if Tony so much as dreamed about getting Gibbs into bed he'd feel like he should apologize when he woke up. Things had changed. And he really did want to take a bath in Gibbs's great old cast-iron bathtub -- he could sink in right up to his neck and soak out the fatigue he felt in his bones -- but he didn't want to push it. "Use the tub" didn't necessarily mean "Calgon, take me away," in Gibbs-speak.
He settled for a longer, hotter shower than he usually took at Gibbs's, wondering once again if Gibbs really washed his hair with bar soap, or if he was just perpetually out of shampoo. Whatever he used, it smelled really good -- nothing you could put your finger on, it just smelled like Gibbs.
You've been in the shower long enough, if you're starting to smell the soap instead of washing with it. Tony quirked a half-smile as he recognized the Gibbs voice in his head. He dried off and dressed hastily in the bathroom, as usual, dropping the towel in the hamper and hanging the bathmat over the edge of the tub.
When he opened the bathroom door, he saw Gibbs coming up the stairs in clean gray shorts, a towel hanging around his neck. "All minty-clean now?" Gibbs asked, moving toward his bedroom door.
"Yeah, I love that shower,” Tony said. "Great water pressure." His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Now what? Should he say good night? Shake hands? Head for the spare room? Go home?
Well, that last one didn't really look like an option, from the way Gibbs was eyeing him. The Fuck Buddy Book of Etiquette didn't cover this.
"I guess I should --"
"My bed's this way, Tony. That is," Gibbs looked Tony in the eye, "if you want to spend the night."
For just a second, it was like he forgot how to breathe. Respiration seemed really unimportant when Gibbs looked at him like that. Like he was ready to give Tony everything he wanted. All Tony had to do was ask. Or maybe I'm just suffering from fuck-brain. He forced out a casual shrug. "That depends. Do you snore?"
Gibbs smiled. "Not as bad as you, DiNozzo."
It was still dark when Tony woke up. Gibbs was moving around the bedroom. "Hey…"
"Morning." Gibbs sat on the bed next to Tony. "You sleep like a Marine."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Gibbs's hand slid over the sheet draped across Tony's thigh. "It means you drop right off to sleep and don't wake up until there's enemy action. Or coffee." He handed Tony a mug.
Sitting up a little, Tony took a sip, then put the mug on the nightstand. He had slept well. Gibbs's mattress wasn't up to Tony's standards, but having Gibbs curled up behind him all night made up for a lot.
Gibbs's hand moved up Tony's leg. Tony had woken in more than his usual state of arousal. Sleepovers are fun. Tony pulled the sheet back and moved Gibbs's hand to where he wanted it. Gibbs stroked him slowly for a minute, then pulled away.
"I've got to get going." Gibbs stood up and Tony noted, belatedly, that he was fully dressed.
"Right. Sure." Tony tugged the sheet back to cover up. "Just give me five and I'm out of here."
"I'll only be a couple of hours." Gibbs looked at him for a minute. "Can you stay?"
The look on Tony's face must have been easy to read. Gibbs was back on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching for Tony's dick. "I was thinking we could do something about this later."
"How about right now?" Tony countered, lifting his hips so he could rub himself against Gibbs's hand.
Gibbs tightened his grasp, just for a moment. "Wish I could stay, Tony, but I can't. Won't be long." He let go before Tony could say anything else. "If you want to wait, I'll see you later."
And he was gone. DiNozzo was in no mood to chase him.
What the fuck was so important that Gibbs had to leave at -- Tony glanced at the bedside clock – 05:15 on a Saturday morning to take care of it? Nobody had called; Gibbs's cellphone was pretty loud and it had been right there on the nightstand. That ruled out work and emergencies. So it must have been something he had planned. Something Gibbs had planned before asking him to stay. Tony was oddly pleased at the idea that Gibbs had done that on the spur of the moment.
But what the hell do you plan to do before dawn on a Saturday morning? Visions of Civil War re-enactments (courtesy of his father) and twenty-mile hikes in full gear (thanks to Gibbs) unspooled in his mind's eye.
He ran through a few more possibilities -- picking Abby up from an all-night Goth party? Feeding the neighbor's dog? Covering Fornell's nephew's paper route? -- before he decided just to let it go. For now.
There he goes again. Gibbs was in and out of the office a zillion times a day, and even DiNozzo wasn't privy to the inner workings of his schedule -- never mind the fact that it got messed up every time they got a high-level case. But Gibbs had been UA a lot lately.
Or maybe Tony was just paying more attention. But disappearing with no explanation in the middle of a workday wasn't Gibbs's normal pattern. And that sent Tony's inner detective into hyperdrive.
Just like that Saturday morning. Gibbs had come back with a box of doughnuts and the expressed desire to fuck Tony into the mattress. Tony closed his eyes and smiled at the memory. They'd stayed in bed all day, watched the game and ordered pizza in between some of the best sex Tony had ever had. But that hadn't been Gibbs's usual pattern, either. And it hadn't been repeated.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs had turned back from the elevator and was in front of Tony's desk. "Quit daydreaming, find McGee, and get your asses over to Bethesda to talk to Commander Weir. I'll be back around 14:00." Gibbs paused and his voice softened a fraction. "I'll see you later."
"Right, Boss." Tony watched him go. What do people do for a couple of hours at lunchtime two or three days a week and sometimes on Saturday mornings? Golf. Guys Gibbs's age golf, don't they? Tony grinned at the idea of Gibbs standing out on the links, nine-iron in one hand and coffee cup in the other. Not likely. Tony put the problem away for the moment. But something was going on.
McGee had gone down to Autopsy, and he'd been gone way longer than he should have been. Tony picked up the phone.
"Good afternoon!" The cheerful voice sounded barely out of adolescence. "Thank you for calling Autopsy."
"Hey, Palmer! I didn't think Ducky ever let you touch the phone." And now I know why.
"Um...Dr. Mallard isn't actually here right now, Tony. Can I give him a message?"
"He left a few minutes ago," Palmer interrupted. "I think he said he was going to stop in and see Abby."
Tony hung up on Palmer and buzzed the lab. "Abbs! Get McGee out from under your desk and tell him to gas up the sedan."
Tony let McGee drive to Bethesda. He wanted to think. What else do people do at lunchtime? He knew Gibbs wasn't the two hour lunch type. The gym! Maybe he was working out more. Tony had noticed that Gibbs seemed a little extra...vigorous lately. But why would he go out to a gym when he could work out for free at the Navy Yard?
"Tony!" McGee nudged him.
McGee's brow wrinkled. "Were you asleep?"
"Just drive, McGee." Tony busied himself re-reading the casefile. "I'm trying to think over here."
Tony had considered and disregarded dozens of theories -- everything from Gibbs working on some top secret case to Gibbs getting top secret treatment for some disease. After a couple of weeks had gone by and he was no closer to the answer, Tony took his balls in his hands and asked Gibbs about the Mysterious Errands. It hadn't been pretty.
"You need me to check in with you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs leaned in close, and seeing as how they were at work, not in the good way. "Or should I be calling you 'Boss'?"
"No, Boss!" Tony waited for the headsmack. "Just, you know, in case we need to ask you something. About a case."
Gibbs took a step back. "You can call my cell anytime" -- he smiled and looked past Tony -- "McGee."
Well, at least Ziva had found it entertaining.
Tony got up from his knees and flopped near Gibbs on the couch. Gibbs was still breathing hard, a soft smile on his face. He snaked his arm in behind Tony's shoulders and pulled him in tight. Tony was almost sure he felt Gibbs's lips brush over his hair.
"I meant to tell you," Tony said, tracing his fingers lightly over Gibbs's stomach. His abs were definitely getting more…defined. "The Director was looking for you this afternoon."
"Yeah?" Gibbs's voice was a little thick.
Tony looked up at Gibbs. Maybe he'd let something slip in his post-blowjob haze. "I told her you were out on a case."
"Good." Gibbs leaned in and gave him a long, slow kiss, tasting and exploring with his tongue. He moved a hand purposefully over Tony's chest, then down toward his belt buckle. "You staying tonight?"
"You want me to?"
Gibbs fixed Tony with that hot blue gaze. "Why else would I ask?"
Tony tried to just accept the situation. Gibbs was definitely opening up more when they were off the clock. The most recent sleepover had again been followed by a day in bed. But the Mysterious Errands were driving Tony batshit crazy. He couldn't just go all Zen and sit around waiting for an explanation. He needed something a little more...proactive.
Andy Kochifis hadn't squawked too much about swapping cars. Tony needed something nondescript; the Mustang was too distinctive. And he was pretty sure Gibbs would spot him in an NCIS vehicle. But behind the wheel of a 2004 Saturn Ion? That was the last place Gibbs would expect to find Tony. He slouched in the seat a little -- enough to ensure his features were in shadow but not so much that he looked like he was trying to avoid notice.
Tailing Gibbs would be a good chance to practice his surveillance skills, Tony told himself. Gibbs knew all the tricks and Ari Haswari had taught him hyper-vigilance, even in broad daylight on a downtown street. As Tony watched from half a block away, Gibbs put some quarters in a meter and swept his eyes over the street before heading east.
Tony counted to twenty, then followed on the opposite sidewalk. Any cover was enhanced if you had a good backstory, so in his head, Tony became an administrative drone from some minor government agency, hurrying to grab a sandwich before the boss got back from lunch. Head down, shoulders slumped, impatient with the slowpokes on the sidewalk but too polite to be pushy.
Gibbs walked at his usual clip, head up and aware of his surroundings. Tony slowed almost before Gibbs did. He knew Gibbs's body language well enough to anticipate the change in pace as Gibbs headed into the lobby of the E Street Marriott, nodding familiarly to the doorman. Huh.
There was a Sami's sub shop on the corner with an unobstructed view of the hotel entrance. Tony bought a sandwich and sat at the window to watch. The problem was, there was more than one way in and out of the hotel. No way he'd be able to cover all the doors -- not to mention the parking garage -- on his own. Of course, he thought, chewing over a mouthful of falafel and pita, if there isn't anything hinky about this, then Gibbs will come back out the front door.
It was ten minutes before something pinged Tony's cop-sense. The car caught his eye first -- a brand new BMW 6-series convertible. The driver was out and tossing the keys to the valet almost before Tony could get a good look at her. She wore sunglasses and ran her fingers through her windblown hair as she hurried into the lobby. Her windblown red hair. Is that…?
Never assume. That wasn't, strictly speaking, one of Gibbs's rules. It was a little something Tony had figured out on his own. It would be too easy to just assume that Gibbs was meeting that redhead for a nooner – that was what Tony's head was telling him. But other parts weren't convinced.
He remembered something Abby had said: If you don't observe it, you can't prove it happened. That might work for science geeks, but it wasn't a good rule for cops. Which meant that he had no reason to believe that Gibbs wasn't up there banging the redhead.
But Gibbs wouldn't do that. Would he? Tony wrapped up the rest of the sandwich and dropped it in the trash. He'd lost his appetite.
He decided not to stick around to witness any furtive exits from the hotel. He had work to do. Besides, Kochifis was probably having way too much fun in Tony's 'Stang.
Back at his desk, he watched the clock, his head popping up every time he heard the elevator ding. Ziva's muffled giggle was his only warning, a microsecond before the headsmack. "Boss! Didn't see you there!" Tony said. He felt like smacking his own head. Stupid probie mistake.
"Took the stairs, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, brushing past him. "You expecting someone?"
Tony said something out loud, but he couldn't have said what it was. Gibbs smelled so good, like he did when he got out of the shower. It took Tony a second to realize that, clearly, Gibbs had just gotten out of the shower. His hair was still a little damp. This was looking less like some innocent meeting, and more and more like...what it was looking like.
He was going to have to go back there again. This time, he'd get there just before Gibbs would have to leave to go back to the office. Let's see what's making him sweat.
Same sandwich shop, different day. Tony had scoped out the hotel's other exits, but he had a hunch. Gibbs didn't look like he was hiding anything when he went in. Why would he do anything different on the way out? So Tony would stay here as long as he could, and if there was no sign of Gibbs or the redhead, he'd stake out a different exit next time.
It had started to rain, but not heavily enough to obscure the hotel's entrance. He felt like an idiot. What was he trying to prove? Did it really matter if Gibbs was seeing someone else? It wasn't like they'd exchanged rings or anything.
Tony sipped his root beer. It tasted flat and a little sour. Officially, there was no reason that Gibbs shouldn't go off and have a nooner with the redhead. Fuck buddies don't have rules like that. For all Gibbs knew, Tony had his own string of redheads to fuck on the nights that he didn't go to Gibbs's house.
A BMW 6-series convertible with the top up pulled out of the hotel garage and took off down E Street at an incautious speed. Tony was up and at the sub shop door in a heartbeat, but he wasn't fast enough to be sure it was the same car.
He sighed and was about to head back to Kochifis's Saturn when he saw a man conversing with the hotel doorman. 5' 6", belted beige overcoat and a fedora at a jaunty angle. Tony watched as Ducky hoisted a gym bag to his shoulder, unfurled a large black umbrella, and hurried off down the block. No way. Tony blinked the rain from his eyes and shook his head. No fucking way!
"So does it bother you, Tony?" McGee leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles over his head. "You haven't said anything, but it's got to...rankle."
"What's that, Probie?" DiNozzo hadn't been paying attention. Gibbs banging a redhead was one thing, but Gibbs and Ducky? Tony had never gotten that kind of vibe from them. But, come to think of it, Ducky had seemed a little different lately. Tony had caught him being nice to Palmer.
"You know." McGee waved his hands in an all-encompassing gesture. "The whole thing with Ducky. I heard one of the autopsy techs started a pool on when you were going to blow a gasket."
Tony snapped upright, his desk chair giving him a painful smack in the back. Autopsy techs? His tone was carefully neutral. "What whole thing with Ducky?"
"You see?" Ziva stopped abusing her keyboard for the moment. "I knew he wouldn't be upset."
"Upset?" Tony glanced from one to the other. "All right. Let's pretend I don't have a clue. Spill it, McGee."
"Well, it's just that Ducky's dating Paula Cassidy." McGee inserted a memory stick into the slot on his keyboard and smirked at Tony.
At first, all he could manage was a quiet, "Oh." He took a minute to work out what that might mean in terms of his suspicions about Gibbs and to manufacture a response for McGee. "This is major information, Probie," DiNozzo snapped. "The kind of stuff you tell your superior."
"What are you, the dating police?"
Tony glared at him.
"Okay, Tony," McGee said. "What I hear is that she thinks his accent is sexy and he wants her to meet his mother."
"I think it's very romantic," Ziva sighed. "Ducky has started a whole new regime of fitness just for Paula." She winked at Tony. "You should be flattered. He obviously thinks you are a tough act to swallow."
Tony ignored McGee's choking fit. "Fitness regime?" It all started to click for Tony, remembering Ducky hoisting that gym bag. He'd never seen him with a gym bag before.
"Yes." Ziva got up and headed for the printer. "He asked Gibbs to give him a private shoe camp."
Boot camp, Tony translated without thinking. "At the E Street Marriott, right?" It made sense. Ducky wouldn't want to huff and sweat in front of everyone in the base gym.
"Got it in one, DiNozzo." Gibbs strode past and put his coffee cup down on his desk. He shook the rain from his coat. "Not that it's any of your business."
Cool. He grinned at Gibbs, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. After all, there must be dozens of redheads who drove BMWs in DC.
"Hey, DiNozzo?" Gibbs grinned back, just for a second. "The next time you're on a stakeout at Sami's Subs, bring one back for me."
Tony watched from the bedroom window as Gibbs pulled into the driveway. He got out of the car and went to examine the mattress out by the curb. Tony grinned. A few seconds later Gibbs was in the bedroom. Tony shook out the fluffy duvet and let it float down over the new, dark blue, 350 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
"You moving in?" Gibbs inquired, mildly.
"Nope." Tony smoothed the duvet and stepped up close to Gibbs. "Just figured if I'm going to be here, I might as well be comfortable."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow and handed Tony a bottle-shaped paper bag.
"Champagne, Boss?" he asked with a grin.
"Nope." Gibbs slipped his hand around the back of Tony's neck and pulled him closer, his lips brushing Tony's ear. "Shampoo, DiNozzo."