It was late. Tomorrow they would have to pack their bags and catch the train to Salzburg, another medieval town full of things like historic castles and strongholds. They had planned to play tourist again, visiting the sights and marveling at the sheer history of a city that had been bursting with life at a time when no European had even dreamed about crossing the ocean and settling on new shores.
This time, no matter how much Tony and Sempera might protest, they would stay away from skulls, bones and other potential sources of mayhem. Of course, there was a dungeon in the stronghold they planned to see. The folders made it sound very interesting…
For now they were still in their little hotel at the Attersee. Sam was occupied with relating a blow by blow report of their adventure to Abby via the internet and the men had retired to their rooms and put the ‘do not disturb’ sigh outside their door. They planned to spend a few hours relaxing, after a boisterous afternoon at the lake. OK, Gibbs was relaxing, Tony was moving a little restlessly beside him, his arms crossed under his head, his fingers playing with his hair. Not a good sign.
They were lying naked on some towels on their bed, side by side without touching. At this time of the day the bath was preferable to their bed, it was still far too hot to snuggle.
“Jethro?”
“Hm?”
“You never really answered me yesterday when I asked about … you know, the correct ratio between danger and potential heartache.” Tony sounded tired but it was clearly a mental weariness, rather than a physical one.
Gibbs moved until he was lying on his side, with his face turned toward Tony. He reached out to capture the restless fingers with his own to still them. “Remember the meeting I had with Vance before we started our vacation?”
This seemingly random question earned him a hesitant nod.
“Leon asked me to discuss something with you.”
Tony wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste. He had successfully worked with their director on some projects during the last year but neither man was completely comfortable with the other, they were just too different. “Since when do you play messenger boy for Toothpick?”
“It’s something that concerns both of us. Vance thought that I'd have a better chance of convincing you to agree," Gibbs heaved himself up on one elbow. It went unsaid that he would never try to convince his partner to do something he himself didn’t back up.
Tony chuckled and sat up. Gibbs was relieved to see the green eyes he loved so much dance with mischievousness.
“What did he think you would do to make me see things his way? Withhold sex? Or the other way round. Blow me until I would agree to paint myself blue and dance naked in the streets. I always knew that Vance’s mind lives in the gutter.”
Gibbs shook his head good naturedly and refused to let himself be distracted. “Who’s mind is in the gutter now? But back to business. Morrow, you remember him?”
“Best director we ever had.”
“Yeah. He's going to resign in about three years from his post at Homeland Security.” Gibbs knew that Tony would catch the significance immediately.
Tony stilled, slumping forward until his head rested on the other man’s shoulder. “And Vance will get Morrow’s post.”
“Yeah.”
“Darn, just when we had him seasoned nearly right. Do they want you as his successor?”
That wasn’t a completely unreasonable idea and if it was true he would of course discuss it with his partner. But Gibbs had never wanted to be the director of NCIS. There was no question that he would be able to do the job, and do it well, but everyone at the agency knew that interacting with politicians and trying to keep the peace with other agencies would drive him bat-shit insane within his first month. “God, no. He wants YOU as his Assistant Director for now.”
Gibbs felt Tony grow tense and unhappy under his hands and could feel his partner’s suddenly irregular breath ghosting over his face. “You know we can't go on much longer with the team we have now. McGee is ready to fly solo, Vance wants to give him a team of his own."
“I know but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Ziva?”
“Head of a newly formed strike force team dealing with threats and crimes against the international forces.” He knew that Tony was too afraid to ask about what had been planned for Gibbs himself. They were so used to having each other’s sixes, working with each other. Change would be hard for both of them. “I was offered the position of Head of Cold Cases.”
“Oh. Lots of detective work, interrogation of old witnesses, challenges but a lot less danger than your old job.”
Gibbs pressed a soft kiss against Tony’s hair, his hands wandering over the smooth skin of partner’s back. “And you would still be able to go out into the field for special cases while otherwise doing what you do best; dazzle and influence people.” He left out the "driving them up the walls" aspect.
But Tony was the sort of person who had few illusions about himself and completed the sentence on his own. “Getting on the FBI agents’ last nerves. Fornell will come out of retirement just for the chance to yell at me.”
Minutes went by, both men contemplating the possible ramifications of Vance’s plans for them. Then Tony raised his head and they shared a long, drawn out look and then an equally long kiss. Gibbs knew without a doubt what their joint decision would be.
“Vance wants to know our answer as soon as we're back?”
“Yeah.”
Their next kiss wasn’t about reassurance anymore but something else completely. They separated and Tony was nearly purring. “See, I might need a little bit more convincing. And not the withholding kind! How about it, Marine?
That sounded exactly like the perfect mission for a Marine like Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His hands snuck into position and one sharp pull later Gibbs had his laughing partner prone under him and at his mercy. Overwhelm and conquer. It was a good thing that the old walls of the hotel were thick and soundproof. The next few hours would be theirs alone.
The END
Chapter End Notes:
Sam's sketchbook by Riazendira: http://riazendira.livejournal.com/14692.html