Ziva often teased him about how she was sure his typical date night ended. Her most common suggestions were him receiving a slap to the face or with him flat on his back. He hadn't actually been certain that she meant that one in a sexual way, until she'd included a snide comment once implying that perhaps instead of his back, he also found himself ending up on his front rather often too. The insult in that particular comment had been clear. Of course, none of Ziva's guesses had been anywhere close to the truth. Sadly most often in the past few years, his dates had ended much the way this one was, with a phone ringing and him having to run off into the night. The only thing new about the current situation was that it was Jethro’s phone going off, rather than Gibbs on the phone calling Tony. After the number of times that
the bossman had called and demanded that Tony end his dates and get his ass in gear and to a crime scene ASAP, he found it kind of ironic that it was Gibbs' phone ending their date now.
Gibbs fumbled for his phone, opened it and glared at the display before standing up and pressing it to his ear. “Gibbs.”
Tony observed the tension lines deepening around the older man’s eyes while he listened. The younger man prepared himself mentally for action. The list of possible callers was pretty short. McGee or Ziva would never call to comment on the weather so it must be important.
“Stay put. I’ll be there in ten,” Gibbs brusquely ordered before snapping his phone shut with a lot more force than was strictly necessary.
“Where to? Give me five minutes to jump into some more appropriate and I’ll be ready.” Today’s clothing would have to suffice, Tony had only one more set of work clothes and he would need them tomorrow. Sam was really hell on his clothes. He either had to go back to his apartment and pack a bigger bag or hit the local dry-cleaner. The thought of what Jethro’s service would do to his designer threads made him wince. Asking for some extra minutes to reach his usual cleaner might be a better idea even if it would invite sarcastic teasing about Tony’s perceived vanity.
“McGee cross referenced the names of people who could have taken the car with people showing up in the Peltier family’s background check. One stood out. I’ll tell you more later. You’re staying here.” Gibbs was already reaching for his badge and car keys.
“Boss?”
Instead of answering him directly Gibbs pointedly looked up at the ceiling. Why use words if a stare could say it so much better?
Tony bit down on his annoyance about not being able to be on his boss’ six in the field this time, but leaving the security of his daughter to other agents, no matter how qualified, was equally repulsive. He really was between a rock and a hard place. “Right, we don’t know how many perps there are and if they split up. One of us should stay and guard Sam.”
“Yep. Keep her safe.”
“Jethro, watch your back.”
Gibbs nodded, turned around and hurried out of the room: Tony followed and was fast enough to see him crash into the door.
“Damn. Forgot that I locked it.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation Tony began to laugh. Gibbs sent him a disgruntled frown and then began to rummage through a big bowl of odds and ends that served double duty as a bookend on a nearby shelf.
“I can’t believe you lost the key to your front door within half an hour of using it.”
“Nope, got it, just thought you should have one of your own.” Gibbs threw something at him and the younger man caught the small item easily. The gray haired man hurried out of the house without looking back. It seemed like only seconds later when the sound of a car being started and then accelerating shattered the silence. Tony opened the hand that had caught the little missile and looked down. It was an ordinary key.
Gibbs wasn’t big on symbolic gestures, what you saw was what you got when it came to the former marine, so Tony didn’t want to read too much into it. It was only logical that he should have the key to one of the more important barriers preventing harm from reaching Sam and himself. That didn’t mean that Tony wasn’t extra careful while securing it to his key chain.
He was still staring down on it when he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Sam was in her nightclothes and carried Squid in her arms. The little girl had confiscated the old NIS T-shirt from last night and combined it with some pajama pants Abby had bought earlier that day. They were black in color with white bat-bunnies as decoration. The Goth had been highly amused about the kid’s categorical refusal to wear anything pink.
Sam tugged the plush toy under her arm and signed her question. ‘Jet had to leave?’
Tony made sure that the front door was securely locked again and put his key chain on the bookshelf. “Yeah, he got a call. Why are you still up? Shouldn’t you be sleeping by now?”
Sam shuffled around and tugged at the fabric of her shirt. ‘I don’t want to.’
Oh. He could guess that the day had stirred up a lot of memories. ‘Nightmares?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t elaborate and Tony didn’t pry.
Tony gently pushed her along the corridor to the kitchen. More than one of his parenting guides had advised hot milk for situations like this. Tony preferred going for a run until he was exhausted when his brain refused to let him sleep, with downing the occasional tumbler of potent alcohol when running wasn’t working. And the devil would order ice skates before he took his own childhood experiences as a model for how to deal with a frightened child.
Jethro’s kitchen was old fashioned and functional. It didn’t take long to find the cupboard that housed the cups and even his techno phobic boss had bowed to the advantages of modern kitchen appliances and bought a microwave. Or one of his ex-wives had done it and he had kept it because it could be used to warm up food fast and wasn’t too complicated to use. Any other day milk would have been the deal breaker since Gibbs would never consent to diluting his precious coffee with milk but whoever stocked the house as a temporary safe house had the foresight to include the most basic groceries.
He waited until Sam was sipping on the hot beverage before he dared to ruffle her hair and suggest that she should go back to bed.
Sam shook her head, put down the cup on the table and began to look around. ‘So, Jet is away. We should explore!’
“Bad idea princess. And very rude.” Sam wasn’t talking about peeking into every room in the house, they had already done that and Tony wouldn’t have her rummaging through every nook and cranny. It sounded hypocritical because Tony knew himself to be one of the nosiest persons he'd ever met. It kind of came with the territory of being a professional investigator combined with his own need to explore everything about his fellow human beings, but he wouldn’t violate Jethro’s privacy like that.
‘Come on! I opened some of the drawers, there was nothing interesting in them, but I saw a latch to the attic! It would be like playing pirates raiding a treasure trove at night. I wanted to yesterday morning but raiding should be done at night or it isn’t really raiding, Trixi Belden says so.’
Tony got the feeling that he had dodged a bullet and didn’t even know it until now. Gibbs would never leave anything of monetary value laying around, the man didn’t seem to be even remotely interested in money beyond covering his basic needs (hence the lack of need for a locked door, there was nothing to steal) but there were other kind of precious things that could have been spoiled.
‘Dad? Why are you staring at me like that?’ Sam was anxiously eying him. ‘It’s OK, I won’t play pirate if you are so against it. We could watch TV instead.’
“Don’t fret; I just have to… explain something to you, ok? But let me think for a minute okay?” Tony collected his thoughts. No, Gibbs would never leave something personal lying around but the attic…. Images of his little girl coming down the stairs, maybe wearing something of Kelly’s and announcing she had found it in a box made him break out in cold sweat. Gibbs would never lash out against Sam but it would hurt him to the bone to see Sam with something of Kelly's.
“Sam, about today, You remember how-“
‘I don’t want to talk about it. Or I’ll bawl again.’ Sam’s lower lip was trembling.
“Jethro told you that there is nothing wrong with crying for your family and he knows because he lost his too, yes?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“This house… ok.” He took a deep breath. “Sam? How would you feel if Jethro found something personal that belonged to your mother and picked it up, looked at it without your permission? Maybe using her brush or something like that.” Tony pushed the thought of the strange agents who were most likely rummaging through boxes of stuff that once belonged to the Peltiers to one corner of his mind and concentrated on the issue at hand.
Sam didn’t answer but her wild eyes and hands balled to fists said it all.
“Not that he would ever do something like that. But there might be some hidden mementos-“ Tony struggled to find another word and then gave up ad spelled it out. “Things that hold special meaning and make him remember his family and they shouldn’t be disturbed.”
He watched and waited for a reaction, hoping that the girl was mature enough to understand what he was trying to accomplish. “I'm not saying that you can’t run around and look at things, but ask first and don’t open anything that is closed or packed away, okay?”
Sam hopped down from her chair, went to him and slung her thin arms around his waist. She turned her head from side to side, rubbing her face against his torso. Tony waited a little bit before pushing her gently back and pressing a tentative kiss to her forehead. “Are we good?”
‘I won’t be nosy, I don’t want to hurt him. He is rude, but that would be mean. And I won’t ask questions ‘cause I don’t want to be asked either.’
Time would tell if her empathy would be stronger than her curiosity but for now they seemed to have reached a consensus. One hurdle overcome, at least. He would warn Jethro about this to make sure there weren’t any nasty surprises. Another hurdle…
Tony wouldn’t ask her again to talk about her nightmares. But it didn’t look like the milk helped much with making her sleepy. Maybe one of his other distraction techniques would work. “You mentioned TV, how about a movie? I packed some you might enjoy. Let’s see if the ancient dvd player in the den is up to the task.”
Thank God he hadn’t been so frazzled two days ago to forget grabbing and packing the collection of classic Disney movies he had bought in preparation for shared weekends.
.-#-.
David and McGee had stationed themselves across the street from the entrance to the apartment house. It was one of the larger buildings in a smaller apartment complex in Silver Spring. The whole building only had 8 apartments because it had been built in the 1930s. Tim had read that the whole complex had been opened by Eleanor Roosevelt. There were a lot of young families and older people living here and, judging by the lit windows nearly all apartments were in use. The man they were interested in lived on the third floor and McGee had seen his silhouette move behind one of the windows.
They hadn’t tried to approach the suspect, just made sure that the man didn’t leave the house without their knowledge. Tim was keeping an eye on the front door while Ziva observed the back. It was 1935 hours, not even ten minutes after he had called his boss. Takoma Park wasn’t far from Silver Spring and Tim wasn’t surprised when a familiar car sped down the road to his position, stopped abruptly and spat out an irate looking Gibbs. Nor was the young agent surprised by the first words out of his boss’ mouth.
“Report!”
Tim knew better than to elaborate about how he came to his conclusions about their suspect, Gibbs was notorious about caring more for the results than the methods. And he had absolutely no patience for long explanations if they didn’t pertain to details directly linked to motive and method of a crime. “Ziva is watching the back of the house. Kiernan Lindau, former Marine Corporal. He runs his own mechanics shop in town and it’s marginally profitable. He served under Peltier and the exact circumstances of his retirement are shady. Sergeant Christopher Peltier strongly encouraged him to retire. All files are classified and unavailable, as is the whole project. I haven’t found out why exactly Peltier wanted him gone-“
Gibbs had observed the house like a hawk would the den of a potential midnight snack and now snapped around and glared at his junior Agent, interrupting his explanation. “Make it available! I want to know why he left!”
The ‘yesterday!’ in that exclamation went unsaid. Sometimes Tim really wanted to chain his boss to a computer for at least two hours and make him understand that it wasn’t just pushing buttons that resulted in answers, but delicate shifting through layers of databases and coding. That, even if McGee was exceptional when it came to finding buried files, he still wasn’t omnipotent. Not that it would ever happen, forcing his techno phobic Boss to learn basic hacking would only result in broken machinery and a livid supervisory agent. And, most likely, a throttled McGee.
That left him, and wasn’t that typical, with trying to convey bad news without being able to explain the exact reasons for his failure. Gibbs would be angry. Again. “Boss, I can’t get in. Whatever they dealt with, it is subject to presidential overview only and the firewalls around-“
The supervisory Agent stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “McGee, I give a rat’s ass about their security. Forget hacking. Someone living will know what happened. How about calling Peltier’s CO again, did you try that?”
“Uhm, yes, but it wasn’t possible.” Tim took solace in the fact that one year ago he would have stuttered worse. McGee did his best not to cower and hurried to report the rest. “That is, I tried. He's not available. I pushed, told them that it was important and might tie into a revenge scenario with a minor dependent in danger. I got a Corporal Conway on the phone instead; he was the XO and apparently the only one of Peltier’s old command who is stateside at the moment. All he could tell me is that Lindau was a hairsbreadth away from a court martial. He said, off the record, that he agreed with Peltier and that Lindau was a loose canon.”
“Uh-hum.” Gibbs grumbled and turned to face the house again. In Gibbs speak that was nearly approval. “Anything interesting about him that isn’t classified?”
“Eh, no. Three citations for bravery, a bronze star and a POW medal. One black mark for disobeying an order but that one happened 18 months before he retired. On paper he was a very good marine.” Tim hurried on, the boss tended to get more irritated than normal when members of his beloved corps did something to sully the Marines’ reputation. ”What got him on our radar was something else. We questioned the locals, told them we were here investigating a stolen car which was used in a federal crime. A shopkeeper mentioned that Lindau was the one who took care of Riley’s car and how he was always ranting about how he wants to kick his old CO for throwing him out of HIS Marines and that the bastard was a threat to the nation, not him.”
Their suspect couldn’t have done anything criminal, otherwise he would have been dishonorably discharged but that still left a lot of things he could have done wrong. Tim was never comfortable when they had to question a soldier, former or still serving. They were trained to kill and dangerous. The young agent could out think them in a heartbeat and if he had to he would do his best to subdue them physically but it wasn’t his preference. Even Tony always did his best to stall them with his smart mouth and endless chattering before getting physical with a soldier. For one moment Tim wished for the other agent to be here. The boss was tough and very capable when it came to taking down someone, but Tony was no slouch either and he would commiserate with Tim afterward about scraps and bruises, something Gibbs would only sneer at.
Their evidence was circumstantial at best, more motive and opportunity than concrete facts, but they could interview the man and see what they could shake loose. Maybe this time it would all go according to plan and protocol.
.-#-.
Gibbs told McGee to contact David and that they would enter the building from both sides and meet in front of Lindau’s apartment door with the female member of their team providing back-up. He trusted the former Mossad operative to cover their backs and secure any flight avenues. The old brick building wasn’t the most ideal hunting ground with fences and trees providing ample opportunities to hide and avoid arrest. His computer expert was better suited to partner Gibbs for an interview, less threatening. Ziva David might be a woman and nominally the weaker sex, but every trained soldier worth his salt would sense the predator in her and grow suspicious. Super secret hush-hush projects, as Tony called them so aptly, didn’t tend to recruit idiots.
This was the first real lead in a very frustrating case and even if Lindau wasn’t involved directly, talking with him might give them new insights into the background of Christopher Peltier. Not that Gibbs though that they were on the wrong track, there was no such thing as coincidence. A grudge against Sam’s step-dad, knowledge and opportunity to steal the car: Their suspect had to fit into the picture somehow.
The building didn't have an elevator, only one set of stairs which they climbed to the 3rd floor. With only two apartments per level it wasn’t hard to find the correct door. Gibbs pushed the bell.
It took a few minutes until someone answered. The little peep hole went light and the silver haired agent held up his badge, identifying himself. This would be done by the book as much as possible. “Gibbs, NCIS. We have some questions about a case, Mr. Lindau. Please open the door.”
The only answer he got was the peephole going dark again and then a muffled crash. Gibbs cursed and eyed the door. It was a solid wood door and kicking it in would hurt. "Dammit! He probably took the window! David, call reinforcements, then get outside! We'll go after him from here," Gibbs barked. Gibbs hadn’t guessed that avenue and silently called himself an old fool. He heard David run down the stairs.
There wasn’t enough time to pick the lock. Gibbs shot it instead. “McGee.”
“On your six boss.” McGee had pulled his own weapon.
Yeah, and wouldn’t he love to hear another voice uttering those words. Gibbs cautiously peered into the apartment before entering it, his every sense trying to detect a possible trap. Lindau had either fled through the window or he had holed himself up in a corner for an ambush. There wasn’t much space, the small hallway led into a living room. Neither the room with its simple square shape nor the few cheap pieces of furniture provided any cover. A chair had been upturned and there was a broken bowl on the floor with its content strewn around. The fluttering curtains indicated which option Lindau had chosen.
Gibbs sprinted to the open window, pressed himself against the wall beside it and looked cautiously outside. One of the old oak trees was growing near enough to the wall to serve as a natural ladder. You only had to be athletic (or desperate) enough to chance a jump to the nearest sturdy branch. His sight might not be what it once was but it was easy enough to spot pale hands gripping the dark bark of the tree.
“Stop! Federal Agents!” McGee warned and pointed his weapon.
That only spurred Lindau to shoot at them.
Both agents pulled back. At least the building was constructed out of bricks and not thicker cardboard like some of the cheap modern hovels, there was no chance of the rounds penetrating the walls. Gibbs heard a vicious swearword and then something clattering down the tree. Not loud enough to be a body so he guessed that Lindau had lost his balance and dropped the weapon. One peek around the windowpane showed the agent that the perp was indeed still in the tree but busy trying to get more of the tree between him and his pursuers and to climb down faster. If he reached the ground there was a good chance of him escaping, David had to round the house to reach their position and the fleeing man had the advantage of knowing his surroundings much better. Additionally he wore dark clothes which would help him avoid detection.
There was nothing for it. Gibbs holstered his weapon, shed his overcoat and judged the distance to the tree. “Cover me.”
The jump wasn’t that hard but it had been years since he last climbed a tree. Gibbs swore under his breath and clutched at the rough bark, trying to find purchase for his feet. Adrenalin pumped through his veins. Yes, it had been years and last time he hadn't worn stupid street shoes. Something in his knees protested the strain but he ignored it and swung himself to a lower branch that was nearer to the trunk.
Lindau had in the meantime reached the bottom and was searching frantically in the high grass for his lost weapon. Gibbs looked down. He wasn’t that high up anymore himself. Viscous swear words drifted up to the agent, telling him that the other man wasn’t successful. And he was running out of time. Both men came to that conclusion simultaneously and Lindau ceased his search, instead taking off at a run.
Gibbs let himself fall, landed in a controlled roll, got up and chased after the ex-marine, blood singing in his veins. He could hear David calling out for him but, as he had suspected, she was too far away to be of real help.
The perp was fast, Gibbs had to give him that, but whatever he had done since his retirement it hadn’t included cross country hunts at night. And the agent might mentally complain about his footwear, but the fleeting impression of light skin being illuminated by the moon told him that Lindau was barefooted and that had to hamper him more than the agent’s lack of combat boots or other more appropriate footwear.
Gibbs forced himself to go faster, to shorten the distance to the fleeing man. He wouldn’t let him escape, he wouldn’t! This was what he was made for, chasing down human scum, not sitting behind a desk filling out forms.
Fugitive and hunter vaulted over a low fence, the first desperate to reach the nearby train tracks and the denser woods behind, the later as determined to reach him. Then Lindau stumbled and nearly toppled over. He caught himself and resumed his desperate flight but it gave his pursuer the needed seconds to reach him and take him down. The agent tried to get a good grip but the other man wasn’t ready to give up and struggled against the weight on his back. Oh yes, this man wasn’t a civilian, unaccustomed to defending himself in hand to hand combat. Lindau managed to throw Gibbs off and got in one hard punch before the silver haired man had him in a headlock and down on his knees with the redrawn Sig pointed at his head.
“You. Are under. Arrest. For assaulting federal agents. Suspected murder and attempted kidnapping.” Gibbs ground out between clenched teeth, trying to catch his breath again and defiantly not acknowledging the dull and angry pain in his bad knee. David had reached them and handed him her set of cuffs.
“You’re making a big mistake!” The perp glared at them but held still while Gibbs cuffed his hands behind his back, mirandizing him while Ziva now pointing her weapon at their captive.
“Do you understand your rights?” It was the first opportunity to take a good, long look at his captive. Hair cut in a fashion that would make any Drill Instructor weep with joy, middle height, muscular body with light skin and dark eyes. A glance at his feet confirmed that he was indeed barefoot and his flight hadn’t done Lindau’s feet any favors, they were cut up badly, bleeding freely and needed medical attention. The light wasn’t too bright but it looked like that stumble had been caused by Lindau stepping on shards of glass. Gibbs felt his jaw clench. “David, call McGee to bring the car as near as possible. We need a first aid kit. Then the next stop is Bethesda or another hospital. Don’t want him to complain about cruel and unusual punishment.”
“I only did what was right, defending my country!”
Lindau’s eyes were glittering with pain and an unholy light that made Gibb’s gut clench. He hated fanatics but they were easy to goad into spilling secrets. “Defending your country by cowardly killing a good soldier and his wife and harming a little girl? Yeah, right. You're a disgrace to the Corps. Do you understand your rights?”
That provoked a violent reaction and Gibb had to alter his stance to keep his grip on the struggling man. “My rights?!? As if they count. I was doing what was right and was punished for it! I had to take him out so he couldn’t weaken our defenses further. I did my duty.” And with that Lindau shut his mouth resolutely and averted his face.
Lindau wasn’t making much sense. No matter, the scumbag had said enough for them to throw him into a cell, not to mention that shooting at federal agents was a serious offense. Hopefully something in his apartment would give Abby enough to work with so they could throw away the key and catch anyone who might have helped Lindau with his plans. The ex-marine wasn’t smart enough to evade Gibbs’ questions forever, he would crack.
Two minutes later McGee arrived with the NCIS car.
"McGee! Nearest Hospital?" They might want to keep him overnight, it looked like some of those cuts might require stitches.
McGee bent to consult his phone and responded, "Walter Reed, just down the street about two miles Boss."
Gibbs nodded "Good, it's even on our way back to the yard."
They secured the silent prisoner into the car’s backseat with David as a guard. A quick basic first aid job was done on Lindau’s feet so that nothing would fester. The requested backup team had to have arrived at the apartment block as well so they first returned there and were greeted by the presence of two more NCIS cars and another team of agents who were busy securing the scene.
The commotion had drawn some attention from a few passers bys and locals. Gibbs wasn’t happy about the curious bystanders gaping at them, some from open windows, some standing around. Gibbs and his team had to make for a rather bedraggled picture, him in shirtsleeves and dirt on his face and clothes from the struggle, his agents in not much better condition and one of the residents as a shackled captive. Some idiot would take pictures, they always did. Vance wouldn’t be too happy about the bad PR. The director liked his agents to look more like suave Agents and not ruffians. His words, not Gibbs’.
Agent Benson nodded at him. “Gibbs. We’re taking over the clean up and processing the scene. Word from the director: Some higher ups have gotten wind of the arrest and you are not to question Lindau without some government representative of their choice in the room and that won’t be possible before tomorrow noon. That’s an order.”
If he lost this lead because some moronic politicians and desk jockeys feared that Lindau would spill some secret beans Gibbs would be spit fire mad and ready to chop off some heads. Benson was a decent agent and had worked with Gibbs one or two times so he was prepared for the silver haired agent’s growl of displeasure. “I hate politics.” He tried to sooth.
Gibbs sighed and rubbed one of his hands over his head in frustration. “You and me both.”
“You’re going to tell DiNozzo what happened?”
“After taking Lindau to the hospital. He might have to stay there overnight.”
“I’ll request some guards for him. Do you think it is over now? I hope he was a sole nut job, Tony’s little one shouldn’t have to live in fear for longer.”
Gibbs didn’t answer him; he hurried to his own car to follow the rest of the team and their prisoner to the hospital.
.-#-.
Tony was lounging on the couch, staring at his cell phone and willing it to ring.
Being benched and waiting for the team to return to headquarters had been harmless in comparison. This was a new experience Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo could have done without, thank you very much. He felt like someone had castrated him. How did the old tale go? Long, long ago in a far away land the fair maiden had to look on as her knight in shining armor saddled his faithful white steed to ride into the night, slay the dragon that threatened their kingdom and if possible loot his stash of treasures when he had time. In the meantime the fair maiden had to keep the hearth warm and worry about her better half doing stupid things like getting himself maimed or killed.
The whole picture made Tony first scowl fiercely and then chuckle helplessly, calling himself a melodramatic fool. He was no bard’s ideal of a fair maiden, not at all. There was a distinct lack of virginity, not to mention breasts and flowing skirts that disqualified him. Additionally, even if he knew from their misadventures with the radioactive painting case that Gibbs could ride, he could only imagine the former Marine’s reaction when confronted with a white stallion and fairy tale armor. Gibbs had nearly bitten Tony’s head off for wearing a highly polished cravat pin shortly after he joined NCIS and the younger agent had never forgotten the lecture. No soldier worth his salt would consent to wearing something that attracted attention into battle.
Nha, if he really had to compare them to anything out of a storybook … Gibbs would make a magnificent dragon stomping off to roast the stupid knight and have the steed for a snack with the armor as a plate while his dragon companion defended their one chick and flambéed anyone who was brainless enough to dare enter their lair. Much better.
But not good enough, not distracting enough. Tony stood up, pocketed his phone and then paced, checked the windows and the door, circled the whole floor and snuck up the stairs to make sure everything was secure there too. He ended up in the basement, staring moodily at the nearly finished boat. At the office he would have at least been able to check some databases and follow the announcements. Maybe he should have snatched Sam and the stooges outside and-
The light from the open door made something small on one of the shelves above the workbench glitter and it caught his attention. Tony went over to investigate. It was a small framed photo halfway hidden behind a tin. A family photo. It wasn’t hard to guess the subjects’ identities. Tony smiled and shook his head. How typical of Jethro. Other people would use their bedside drawer or the mantel above the fireplace as places to safe-keep something like this, not a dusty basement.
Tony didn't want to pull the frame off the shelf, it would be intrusive to do so without permission, but he stretched to get a closer look. After the fiasco with the explosion he had dug into his boss’ past and unearthed some old newspaper clippings but none of them had had included photos. Now he studied the face of the two females who meant the world to his lover and still influenced his actions. Tony didn’t want to ponder too much about it, but he couldn’t help and play the ‘what if’ game. What if Shannon and Kelly hadn’t been killed? Gibbs would have had no incentive to join NCIS and somewhere down the line accept one Tony DiNozzo on his team. Would they have met at all? Hell, not that Tony would have had any chance with Jethro romantically, the man was the sort who pushed always faithful to another level. Nor had Tony ever been a home wrecker, that was one sin he had never even been tempted to commit.
The troubled agent took a step back and bit down on his lower lip until it hurt. This was pointless. For all he knew Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs would have died with a bullet in his head somewhere in Saudi Arabia when Kelly was ten or twelve or fourteen and Anthony DiNozzo would have bled out from a gunshot wound to the back some years later in Baltimore because his partner wasn’t there to have his back.
He shook himself and grimaced. All this speculation was pointless. The only thing he could do, the only direction he could go, was forward and ban the ghosts to the edges of his mind.
Tony saluted the small picture and then turned around to go back upstairs, carefully closing the door behind him.
It was Ziva who called to give him an update.
Tony had taken in the news with considerable calmness, thanked his colleague for her call and then waited for Gibbs to come home. It wasn't much longer until both men were staring at each other, Gibbs leaning against the counter and sipping on another cup of too strong coffee and Tony straddling one of the kitchen chairs. The younger man restricted himself to concerned and pointed glances at the state of the older man’s clothes which told the story of the chase far better than the few words Ziva had used. He didn’t want to come across as a worrywart.
“Damn politicians.” Gibbs growled into his cup.
Tony wasn’t pleased about the interference in their investigation either but he felt surprisingly practical about it. “Nothing to do about it now. The bad guy is shackled to a hospital bed with guards on his door. You sent the rest of the team home to sleep and recuperate and Vance doesn't want to see any of us in the office until noon tomorrow. Do you know what that means?”
Gibbs raised one of his eyebrows, drowned the last of the strong black brew and set aside the cup.
Tony stood up and nonchalantly ambled over to Jethro, smiling at him broadly. The fair maiden Antonia in his story would have swooned, promptly recovered and then kissed her hero sweetly. Dragon Tony would likely nip at his companion’s ears and puff up smoke for Dragon Jethro being careless enough to get injured. Real Tony planned something else.
“Remember your promise?”
The eyebrow climbed another notch. “Promise?”
Tony put one of his hands lightly on Jethro’s shoulder, exactly above a vivid grass stain (and most likely a vivid bruise underneath) and let it slowly sink lower down his partner’s body. “From last night. You, me and carte blanche to touch you everywhere I want. Starting with....“ He bypassed the groin area and touched the stone hard muscle above the right knee, “your knee.”
Some of the tension and anger bleed out of Jethro’s posture and he shook his head. “Tony-“
“Nu-uh. Don’t tell me you're chickening out.” Tony leered for all he was worth. “A DiNozzo special, I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Kate and McGee might sneer about his choice of major but it had its uses. The chances of his boss letting someone who wasn’t Ducky look at the bum knee were next to nil, but Tony had seen and treated enough sports related injuries to assess the damage done. Getting Jethro out of his clothes and at his mercy was admittedly a nice side effect and Tony would never admit that he had the strong impulse to reassure himself that the other man was ok.
Honestly, jumping out of a tree, what had the boss been thinking? That was what a second in command and junior agents were for, with their boss awaiting them at the ground level with the perp at his feet and a mocking scowl for them on his face. No wonder Tony had been antsy about letting his supervisory agent go alone. McGimp and Ziva didn’t count.
Tony stepped back. “Come on, upstairs. Let’s relax and tomorrow is soon enough to worry about things we can't change.”
Jethro’s eyes locked with Tony’s. Whatever he found there must have given Jethro a satisfactory answer to an unasked question because he smiled warmly, shook his head and then led the way up to his bedroom. It was clear to both that they weren’t planning on only therapeutic kinds of touching.
A short time later Tony sat back on his haunches and stared. Jethro had shed his clothes with an unconcerned frankness that came most likely from living in close quarters with other men for years. Such a lack of artificial coyness was very attractive and Tony couldn’t help but hurry to disrobe himself and join the other man on the bed. Not only to ogle all the deliciously bare skin either. Jethro had nothing to be ashamed of, but Tony could have done without the additional decorations provided by the colorful bruises developing on his lover’s skin. Tony carefully poked and prodded, examined each and every discoloration. He had fetched a salve from the bathroom that would cool and reduce the swellings.
“Quite a collection. Lindau did a number on you.” He was extra careful when he put pressure on one of the more spectacular bruises on Jethro’s left side of his ribcage. “Nothing seems to be broken, your knee is strained and I would recommend Ducky taking a closer look, just to be sure. The swelling isn’t too heavy; Dr. DiNozzo prescribes rest and a light painkiller to take off the edge.”
Of course his stubborn lover ignored the painkiller comment. “The tree did more damage than Lindau.”
It was then that Tony became fully aware that he hadn’t been the only one to explore with his eyes and enjoy what was on offer. It made the younger man blush and squirm. He couldn’t quite interpret the exact meaning of the expression in the blue eyes watching him carefully but the half hard cock nestled between steel gray curls was clear enough. “Wanna let me play doctor some more?” he couldn’t help himself lamely quipping, half nervous, half anticipatory.
“Do I look like a teenager?” Jethro threw back but the corners of his mouth were quirked upwards, negating his pissed of tone of voice.
Tony gulped. “No, you look mature and gorgeous and entirely fuckable.”
Gibbs smirked and lightly opened his legs. “Am I? Anything you want to do about it?”
“You bet!” Tony laughed and settled between the other man’s opened legs, taking their position as an invitation. This was exactly what he needed. Let their bodies do the talking. This was a very, very nice ending to a horrible day. Less of the former and much, much more of the later for the future would make Tony DiNozzo a very happy and content man.
The next moments involved a lot of groping, sloppy, hungry kissing and heavy breathing. Noses, elbows and one hurt knee got in the way, the later resulting in a slap on Tony’s bare ass and a nip of sharp teeth on his shoulder in retaliation, not that Tony minded. They were both too spiced up and full of anticipation to take it slow. Slow was for the next time. Not now.
“Jethro? Do you have supplies, some lube?”
His lover grunted and awkwardly reached across the mess of sweaty Tony and crumbled sheets and pillows to his bedside drawer. He fished inside and then handed over a sealed pack of condoms and an equally unused, brand new tube of lube.
Tony’s smart mouth engaged and babbled before his brain could intervene. “Huh. Did you put this on the list of groceries? Would love to have a pic of the agent who read it first.”
He expected another swat on the ass or at least the customary one on the back of his head but Jethro just scowled at him and reached down to tear the package open and then, with a devilish smirk on his face, roll the thin sheath over Tony’s very appreciative erection. “Don’t be stupid. I bought them myself. It’s not my first rodeo.”
Ok, this was kind of surreal. Crouching over Gibbs’ prone body, opening the lube, lovingly lifting one of the long, muscular legs up and over his hip and then exploring territory he never would have dreamed about getting near.
The way Jethro was holding himself still was kind of unnerving, though. He had said that it had been years since he did something like this so it was understandable that he was tight and apprehensive. Whatever, as soon as Tony found the little magic gland he would forget about being nervous. Hah, Leroy Jethro Gibbs being nervous! Nobody would believe him. He crooked his finger a little bit and suppressed a victorious smirk when Jethro’s eyes widened and he arched of the bed and spread his legs further apart.
There was nothing he wanted more than to follow the wordless command and sink himself into the waiting heat but there was no way he would do it if Jethro was so tense. Tony reached for more lube, looked up and pressed his mouth to his partner’s, nipping at Jethro’s lower lip and trying to tempt the other man’s tongue over into his own mouth. Anything to make his partner concentrate on something other than Tony’s fingers. He didn’t have to wait long to be invaded and lost himself a little bit in the war for dominance he fought and lost over possession of his mouth. A battle he gladly lost and it made him whimper and tremble. Damn, that was hot. And suddenly something made sense.
Stupid, bone headed, self sacrificing marine bastard! Tony flung himself backwards and pressed his hands to his eyes, his cock drooping pitifully. Frustration made him remove the condom a little too hastily. The sad sound of squelching rubber made him wince and throw the thing in the direction of the waste bin, not caring one iota if it landed right or not.
“DiNozzo?” Jethro sat up too and was staring at him incredulously.
Oh yes, and the use of his surname instead of given name in bed added to the fuck up and was a good indicator that his partner felt insecure and unsure about the situation, falling back on old customs. Tony wondered why he had ever thought that having sex would be the easier part of their relationship. Easy and Jethro Gibbs didn’t go together, damn it.
This wasn’t how he had pictured their first real night together. Gods, and didn’t that sound like purple prose. Real sex, especially anal sex, was always a lot more dirty and embarrassing than imagination, more complicated too, but this was ridiculously fucked up. He had longed to explore Jethro’s body, to get his hands where before he had only dared discreet peeks in the shower room. Just what Jethro had promised him the night before, a chance to reciprocate and connect on a physical level. Instead they had hit an unexpected road block.
He was fluent in the Agent Gibbs book of stares but a mere beginner in Jethro’s bed grunts. He really, really didn’t want to play ‘Lost in Translation’. “What the hell gave you the impression that I would enjoy fucking you when you aren’t into it as much as I am, huh? What?!?”
Jethro had an expression on his face Tony had rarely seen before and his cheeks were flushed and unfortunately not with passion. “I want us to be equals in this relationship and I thought I should show you that I wouldn’t expect you to submit in bed as well as in the office, that’s what I thought.”
Now it was Tony’s turn to stare incredulously at Gibbs. “Ok, let me get this straight, pardon the inappropriate pun: you think of the one on the bottom as servicing the other partner? That’s kind of medieval.”
“No, that’s not it, at all.” Jethro sat up and folded his legs under him. He hadn’t reached for the sheet to cover himself and was rubbing his hands through his hair. “Tony, my experiences with gay sex are limited. I grew up in a small backwater town. I knew that I better keep quiet about thinking that Toby next door was as sexy as his sister. After joining the Marines…. There were some unspoken rules in the corps and I'm not talking about don’t ask, don’t tell, which was still active then, or fooling around in Boot camp. Being on a team in a war zone... There’s a strong bond between the men in your unit, has to be for you to be successful and survive. It comes with facing death together and relying on each other. High stress environment, little opportunities to let off steam, to feel alive and human. Sometimes you lent your best buddies a hand and in rare cases a mouth or a hole and as long as it was reciprocal nobody would ask or care if it was a sign of being bent or about who enjoyed what. And as a civilian- if I felt the need for a male sex partner I always went to a bar, picked up someone there, rented a hotel room for the night. None of these men ever asked me if I wanted to bottom.”
“Yeah, surprise! Not. Can't believe I really thought you would want to be fucked. You generally don’t give off the vibe that you would ever want to let go of any control.” Hindsight was 20/20 and Gibbs was a control freak, Tony felt all kinds of stupid that he hadn’t thought about it more. Letting someone fuck you, even if you straddled your partner and rode him, was still intrusive.
“You are the first man I’ve ever wanted to live with, not just fuck. You deserve more consideration.”
That was nice to hear, really, but so not the point. Tony didn’t want compromises in bed that left one partner less satisfied from the onset on. “I can assure you that I enjoy a nice thick cock up my ass. It has been some time since I've had a male partner, but I’ve done it often enough to be sure about what I like. I don’t have anything against being on top too. What’s not to like about a hot sheath to pump into. But- for me being filled, taking someone else into my body is something else. I can’t describe it really. But trust me, it is not a chore for me, not at all.”
Tony took some deep breaths and reached out and touched Jethro’s face, stroking it, feeling the slight stubble and rejoicing in the warmth of the skin. “You don’t go that way, so what? I don’t mind. If I want to be the more active partner, there’re dozens of scorching hot and satisfying possibilities we could explore beside penetration. There’s nothing weak about enjoying to bottom. Or refusing to.”
Jethro’s laugh sounded rough and raspy. “Never thought it was. Shannon would have read me the riot act if I ever got the idea of her being weak.”
Tony didn’t know how he felt about Shannon being mentioned while he was naked in bed with Jethro. It was nice to hear her name used casually, but he really could do without her in their bed. “So, now that we cleared this up, how about going back to the steamy hot sex? With switched positions.” Tony didn’t want to let any thoughts of sacrifice fester. If he had his way he would make damn sure that Jethro knew how much he enjoyed and welcomed being fucked till he screamed. He reached out and closed his hand around Jethro’s still half hard erection and rubbed it insistently. “Can’t wait to feel that in me.”
Jethro must have decided to take him at his word, grabbed and pulled him fully onto the bed again. “Careful there. If you’re not careful you’ll have to wait. I imagined this so often, your hands, your mouth on me that I don’t need much to come.”
That evoked a breathless laugh and Tony let go. He pressed a long, sweet kiss to Jethro’s mouth before he stretched out on the bed and, as a deliberate contrast to their earlier position, rolled himself around and presented his own ass shamelessly. He made sure to smile over his shoulders and comically wriggle a little to lighten the mood. Jethro’s pole axed look was very rewarding and from the look of his rather generous fully erect cock and the precome it now leaked the other man’s body knew very well what it wanted and how it wanted it, even if Jethro’s brain was still catching up. Tony reached back with one hand and grabbed one of his partner’s hands, squeezing it reassuringly. Then he had to contort a little bit to reach the forgotten tube and squeeze some of the slick gel on his fingers one handed. It was messy and he fought against the giggle that threatened to spill from his mouth. Green eyes sought blue ones and refused to let go, refused to let his lover look away, while Tony prepared himself. He could have whooped in joy when Jethro crawled nearer and his fingers joined Tony’s.
He was ready. Oh so ready. “I am not a delicate flower!”
“Pushy, greedy bottom.” The gray haired man’s voice was even deeper than normal and was a turn on in and of itself.
“You bet!”
He could feel Jethro’s finger flexing on his hips, digging in and letting go rhythmically. There would be marks on his skin tomorrow too. Heavy, hot breath against his shoulders and most importantly the promise of a hard cock between his ass-cheeks, tantalizing him with things to come.
A strong arm wound around his waist, pulling him back and onto his side firmly as Jethro finally, after all the teasing, entered him
.-#-.
Gibbs held himself completely still, his eyes firmly closed to reduce the stimulus. Or the head further south would control his actions. That would be bad, he had to give Tony time to get used to him, Gibbs wasn’t small and Tony had admitted that he hadn’t done this for some time.
The tableau of this gorgeous sexy man under him, squirming and whimpering, reacting to even the slightest touch was very heady and threatened to rob him of his not inconsiderable self control. If he dared to look, if he added the visual to the tight channel that gripped his cock like a velvety vice, he wouldn’t be able to hold back and would come like a teenager and end this encounter prematurely. Absolutely not the ideal first impression as a lover. Even with closed eyes he could hear Tony’s panting breath and smell sweat and arousal. He had to… he reached down awkwardly and wedged a hand between his lover’s muscular ass cheeks and his own body to tug sharply at his own balls. Yeah, pain had its uses.
Tony squirmed deliciously. “Guh…?”
“Shhh….” The former marine shifted his hips and slid further in until he was flush with his lover's back, covering him from ass to neck, their legs tangled.
“Feels good, so good. Don’t move yet. Damn it Tony. Don’t. Move.” He growled in his best Gunny voice and the squirming lessened. Gibbs borrowed his nose in the conveniently near neck. Mistake; big mistake. Shampoo, probably more expensive than every grooming article in his bath combined, fresh, honest sweat and Tony. He would never be able to stand beside this man in the elevator again and smell this without remembering and getting hard.
The pressure around his cock lessened fractionally and he could breath more freely. Which got him another nose full of aroused Tony. It made his mouth water and he began to lick, slowly, just behind Tony’s ear, then more firmly over the side of his throat. Now that he could be sure not to embarrass himself he began to move his hips. The position was not the most comfortable, he lacked the leverage to move more freely but it would be a bad idea to kneel up and wreck his bad knee more than it already was. His fitness regime and stamina came in handy for once outside work, endorphins and sheer elation rushing through his veins making him briefly believe that he could go at this for hours, days… His mouth feasted on his lover's neck, Tony would have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow. Hell, he looked great in those. Only the two of them would know that this time it wasn't one of the infamous DiNozzo flirts who was responsible for the passion marks, but him. Gibbs growled and increased the suction.
Gibbs kept a slow, steady rhythm. With his corps buddies or one night stands there had never been the time to explore or take it slow. Nor had he wanted to. The goal had been to get his rocks off and not to find out what made the other part of the encounter squirm just so, the different degrees of whimpers a slightly altered grip, a softer flick of his fingers against nipples " Tony bucked under him " could produce. There was no question about how much Tony enjoyed what they did together.
Whenever he had allowed himself to speculate about it, he had pictured Tony to be vocal in bed. The former Marine had taught himself to make as little noise as possible in nearly any situation and it was ingrained to his bones, but Tony? The man couldn’t seem to keep silent in his daily life. Gibbs stimulated the sensitive nipples again, raised his fingers to his own mouth to wet them before resuming his torment of the hard nubs. He stroked and listened, his mouth still busy feasting on the delicious neck. Tony trembled, pressed himself against the fingers tormenting his chest, ground himself back against each inward stroke of Gibbs’ cock and his breath hitched with every movement Gibbs made but his moans were nearly silent. Gibbs raised his head and opened his eyes and then couldn’t help himself, he had to laugh even if it came out more like breathless barks. No wonder his lover’s voice sounded muffled, Tony was biting into the pillow.
His lack of movement more than his laughter alerted Tony and he unlocked his jaw and glared back over his shoulder. There was nearly no green to be seen in his eyes, only a small band around the blown pupil. “What?!?” he rasped.
Gibbs wet his lips before answering. “Going to need a new pillow if you chew through it.”
“Better than entertaining our audience outside!”
“True!” Gibbs made one deliberately slow push - the angle should be right for- ah yes " and stilled again.
Tony bucked and nearly failed to muffle his shout. Gibbs would bet that Tony with his exhibitionist nature was equally aroused and terrified about alerting the outside agents. He would tell him, afterward, that the sound insulation of the house was quite good. Any further thought was abruptly abandoned when Tony clenched around him rhythmically, probably in retaliation for being teased.
Even the most disciplined Marine knew when to surrender to higher forces and he let go. It didn’t take long for both of them to come.
Gibbs let himself fall beside Tony and enjoyed the afterglow. He peeked at his partner and grinned in satisfaction. The famous ‘Sex machine’ Tony DiNozzo was still out of it and the silly and happy grin on his face spoke volumes. All very pleasing to one former Marine’s ego. Well, Jethro probably shouldn’t feel too smug, it had been his stubbornness that had caused strife and it had been his younger partner’s insistence to do it his way that had resulted in their very satisfying encounter. Gibbs gave himself a few more minutes to speculate about the other, ‘scorching hot’ possibilities Tony had mentioned. It was doubtful that they would ever get bored in bed. He now knew better than to underestimate his partner’s opinion.
The itch of body fluids drying on his skin brought him back to reality and all the pesky mundane issues that needed to be resolved. Time to wake sleeping beauty. He heaved himself up on one elbow and then bent over the sleeping Tony, nipping on his ear, stroking through his soft and sweaty hair to wake him up. “Up and at’em, DiNozzo!”
Tony’s head shot up and he blinked in a disoriented manner before focusing on the grinning Gibbs and then at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night!”
“Welcome to the more annoying aspects of parenthood. Can’t change the linens with you still in bed, we have to clean up and don some pajamas or there will be more questions than you want to answer come morning.”
Tony banged his head against the pillow and moaned pitifully.
Gibbs just grinned.
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