Previously, Tony got the news about his injuries and started to lean on Gibbs hard. He admitted that he knows Gibbs is in love with him.
And the story continues…
Chapter Thirteen
Tony’s words echoed in the space between them, hanging there for long endless moments. Gibbs locked his gaze onto Tony’s, searching the other man’s eyes, not shirking away as a larger part of him screamed to do. He had never been great with emotions and relationships and having this laid out now was unexpected. Stressful.
He had to tread so carefully here. Problem was, in relationships, he was usually the bull in the china shop. With Shannon things had been so effortless, so easy, but with everyone since, he fumbled words, misspoke meanings, retreated from conversation and sometimes even reason, and was left with his boat and bourbon.
He wouldn’t do that to Tony. Tony wasn’t a redhead who reminded him of Shannon when the lights were out. Tony was a man, a partner of sorts, the one he’d mentored for more years than his three broken marriages put together. His job was to build Tony up, not tear him down or isolate either of them from the truth.
“Yeah,” Gibbs said quietly. “Think I’m in love with you, DiNozzo. You okay with that?”
He’d expected a flash of flirtatious Tony, maybe a dash of Tony the rogue. Instead Gibbs got a watery smile and a nod, tears threatening to overflow. “Yeah. I need you.”
Gibbs pulled in a deep breath. Admitting it was one thing but talking it through was another. But maybe this was the distraction Tony needed. He didn’t trust himself to answer, so he angled his head, looking at Tony and giving him every opportunity to continue talking. At least one of them would. Gibbs hadn’t quite worked out what he’d say yet or how to verbalize what he was feeling.
“I’m glad, Gibbs. I mean…more than just as a subordinate.”
“You’re not.”
“Not?”
As they talked, Gibbs could see some of Tony’s panic fading. Even if this was difficult for Gibbs, he’d do it for Tony’s sake. Shannon had always told him that love was worth any kind of sacrifice and Gibbs was ready to test run that in a small way right now.
“Not my subordinate,” Gibbs continued, firming up his voice and squeezing Tony’s arm gently. “Don’t you know that you’re so much more?”
“I am?” Tony asked, hoping shining in his eyes.
“Yeah, you’re my second in command. My go-to guy. The one I trust in my absence.” He winced, remembering a hospital bed like this one and DiNozzo’s concerned face drifting in and out. “The only one I felt, no, feel comfortable leading in my absence, Tony.”
Tony nodded, watching him for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable, not overwhelming in the least. “I needed to hear that,” Tony finally admitted in a vulnerable tone of voice. “It was rough while you were gone. Everyone needed me to be you but I’m not.”
“Never wanted you to be. They needed you, Tony. Goofy humor and all.”
“They needed a leader, Gibbs. And I wasn’t that for them.”
Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head. “You were every bit the leader they needed at the time, DiNozzo. They all told me. Duck, Abbs, even McGee and Ziva. Jenny raved about you…” Gibbs trailed off for a moment. “She told me about Rota after you’d turned it down. Can’t tell you how glad I was that you turned it down. Needed you.”
They both knew that was a huge admission in a day of them. Gibbs continued to look into Tony’s eyes. “I needed you, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a hell of a leader and exactly the man our team needed at the time.”
“Thanks,” Tony whispered, the emotion once again swimming in his eyes.
The two men lapsed into silence, broken only when Ducky brought Gibbs a cup of steaming coffee. Gibbs quietly thanked the older man and told him they needed to talk later, before he returned to the bed and Tony.
As they’d been talking, Tony had edged over bit by bit and Gibbs returned to the spot, finding it was larger now and even more comfortable. He could rest a hand on Tony’s arm or shoulder without causing further damage or pain and Tony could take comfort from the closeness.
Hell, Gibbs himself was taking comfort from that. He knew it just as much as Tony did.
“How long did you know?” Tony asked softly.
“Know?” Gibbs replied, looking over the rim of his cup.
“That I was…bisexual. That I was...interested in you.”
Gibbs opened his mouth to reply, still formulating his answer, when the doors opened and three people came in.
“Mr. DiNozzo. How’re you doing?” The man gave Gibbs a smile and motioned him off the bed. “We need to take you for some pictures of your liver. Are you ready?”
Tony let out a sound of pure frustration and nodded. “Gibbs, this isn’t over yet.”
“Isn’t it?” Gibbs managed through a much more lighthearted smirk.
“Nope,” Tony retorted and Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief to see the spark back in Tony’s eyes. He turned to the medical personnel. “Can he come with me?”
“No, sorry. Just you and you alone.”
“You’ll be okay, Tony. I’ll be right here waiting.”
“Don’t be.”
Gibbs arched a brow in surprise.
“How long will the tests take?” Tony asked. When he heard that it would be about ninety minutes, he nodded. “Okay, get some breakfast, Gibbs.”
“I’m not leaving,” Gibbs protested in annoyance.
“Do it for me? You look exhausted. And too skinny. Get a good meal, Gibbs. I’m in good hands here.” Tony turned a pleading look on Gibbs. “Do it for me? Then we can deal with Balboa and finish our conversation.”
“For you, anything.”
Tony flashed his typical smug smile as he was wheeled out and Gibbs felt something fall away and melt in his chest. He followed Tony into the hallway and then headed toward Ducky and Balboa, who were chatting in the patient visiting area.
“Ah, there you are, Jethro. I was filling Special Agent Balboa in on Tony’s condition.”
Gibbs nodded once, shortly, noticing that Balboa had come back from what had been a breakfast run.
“Don’t,” Gibbs said quietly. “Everything is still fluid. Don’t want any rumors. Got it, Carl?”
“Of course, Gibbs. When can I talk with him?”
“When he gets back from his tests, if he’s up to it. But only if he’s up to it, Carl. I’m not gonna risk his health right now.”
The other agent nodded and rattled his bag. “Peace breakfast. You look like you’re not eating a whole hell of a lot. I picked you up a couple of breakfast burritos.”
Gibbs wasn’t much of a breakfast eater but this smelled incredible and he smiled as he opened up the bag and pulled out an overstuffed burrito. “I owe ya, Carl.”
“You owe me nothing, Jethro.” He squeezed Gibbs shoulder gently and sat down, opening up a PDA and reviewing something.
“Case notes?” Gibbs asked casually.
“Yeah. But don’t ask, I can’t discuss. Direct orders from the director. She finagled something where you’re temporarily on leave and I’ve assimilated McGee, Lee, and Ziva onto a temporary team so that they can be involved in the investigation. But for the rest, you have to check in with the big boss.”
Gibbs sighed, understanding but not liking it. He wouldn’t push yet. He’d go to Jen and discuss it with her. He munched on the burritos for a few minutes, watching Ducky and Balboa and when the food was done and washed down with coffee, he spoke again. “Four hours of sleep, Duck?”
“Yes, Jethro. And I feel much better for it. And Abigail and Jennifer will be by shortly and you can go back to the hotel.”
The hotel…
Gibbs didn’t want to leave Tony, not when he was in such an upset state. “Do my best, Duck. Some doctor told him the news about his injuries and he isn’t doing so well. He is my first priority. If necessary, someone can bring me some stuff and I can shave and shower here. I’m not leaving him while he needs me.”
“We’ll organize something.” Ducky promised. Gibbs knew his old friend well enough to know that Ducky wanted to make further comment and that he was holding off by sheer force of will, and most likely wariness. Ducky hated it when their discussions and confrontations got heated.
“Do that,” Gibbs replied. His attention was suddenly drawn to a man talking to the nurses at the station by the elevators. There was something about the way the man held himself, more than the posture but the actual personality of the man shining through. And when he turned and started walking toward Gibbs, Ducky, and Balboa, Gibbs was already on his feet.
He let his eyes sweep over the man, cataloging as he went. Fifties, but in great shape for his age. Long limbed grace in every step, body well toned and not given to fat, Gibbs would have thought he was much younger if he didn’t know better. Green eyes, deep set, the same lush mouth as his son, though his skin was a little darker. Clothing expensive but slightly rumpled. His eyes were exhausted and worried, deep set lines carved into his face. This man wasn’t at all what Gibbs expected.
Gibbs got the sense that the man was usually a little more put together than this, but it was clear who he was. The resemblance was so strong it took his breath away for a second, but he stood, recovering his composure, and extended a hand.
“Dante DiNiozzo, I presume?”
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