Tony was dozing in front of a rerun of The Importance of Being Earnest when a brisk knock at the door startled him awake. He reached under the cushion for his gun. Criminals didn't usually knock, but there was a first time for everything.
'Come in,' he called, keeping a hand on his gun as the front door opened. From where he was stretched out on the couch, he could see into the entry hall. As the door closed again, he sighed and relaxed, putting the gun back under the cushion.
Agent Sacks came into the living room and looked around, taking in the solid furniture and the comfortable, masculine colors. 'DiNozzo,' he nodded, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.
Tony gave him a hard stare. 'Agent Sacks. You visiting for a reason, or just come to torment me while I can't do anything about it?'
Sacks shrugged. He didn't look any happier to be there than Tony was to see him. 'Seems we have a little more in common than I thought.'
With an eye roll, Tony said, 'Fornell.'
'He wasn't quite what I was thinking of, no,' Sacks cracked a tiny smile. 'But he said he'd talked with you about imprinting.'
Tony sighed. 'Does the whole world know? Maybe I should just change my name, dye my hair and move to Tasmania. They might not have caught the news.' He slung his good arm over his eyes. 'So, Fornell sent you to talk to me about joining the FBI. I wouldn't have thought you'd want me there. Tell me, does he get a free toaster oven with every ten imprinted people he collects?'
'Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I don't think you shouldn't be able to go to work without being harrassed,' Sack said. 'But no, I'm not here to persuade you to join us.'
Tony moved his arm so he could see the agent. 'What, then?'
Sacks shifted uncomfortably, looking away, then back again. 'I figured you might appreciate hearing from someone who's been in the same boat.'
Tony dropped his arm and sat up properly. 'You fought it,' he said, his voice flat.
'I did.'
'Fornell said your partner died.'
Sacks nodded.
Tony sighed. 'Shit.'
'Yeah.'
They sat in an awkward silence for a while before Tony sighed again. 'Okay, what happened? I take it you got together in the end?'
'We'd seen each other around; I was always aware of him when we were in the same room, but I ignored it.'
'You weren't gay before then?'
'No, not so much as comparing dicks in the locker room in high school.'
'Wow, a Kinsey nought? That's got to have been tough. So how did you...?'
Sacks flushed. 'We worked a bad case together and a bunch of us went out for a few beers. We were the last ones to leave, I offered him my couch for the night. That's about as far as we got before, well, I don't remember which one of us made a move, but we ended up in bed.'
'What did you do?' Tony asked, intrigued. 'I don't mean in bed, because that kind of thing, no offence, but I'd only want to know details if you were a really hot lesbian.'
'None taken. Don't worry, I have no intention of sharing. Well, not much, anyway. I woke up in the morning with a sore ass and a hangover and I freaked out,' Sacks said, with a humorless laugh. 'I yelled at Mark until he pointed out I was hard enough to pound nails. Then he touched my face and I came all over him and that set him off. When we could speak again, he told me that if we could have some of the best orgasms of our lives without even getting to the sex, we'd be really stupid not to, you know, actually have sex.'
'He was gay, then?' Tony asked.
'More open-minded, I think. Maybe bi. We didn't really talk about it.'
'Did you get to the having sex bit?'
'Hell, yeah! Stayed in bed the whole damn weekend and never looked back,' Sacks said. A look of satisfaction flashed across his face, quickly chased away by a deep sadness.
'How did you find out you were imprinted?'
'We, uh... we lost track of time,' Sacks said, flushing again. 'Phones were off, didn't check email, completely out of reach. So Monday morning, Fornell came looking to see what happened, had to pick the lock to get in and found me with my dick up Mark's ass. When he came into the bedroom, I thought he was some kind of threat, was going to take Mark away from me. I threatened to shoot him if he didn't back off.'
Tony gaped at Sacks for a long moment before blinking rapidly, then throwing back his head and laughing. 'God, I wish I'd seen Fornell's face!'
After a moment more, Sacks joined in. 'Yeah, it was kinda funny, in retrospect.'
'He made you get tested.'
'Mhm. Got us a week of medical leave to get the initial hit out of our systems, made sure we'd got food in the place and by the time we got back to work, he'd had Mark transferred to my team and taken care of all the paperwork.'
'That's... really thoughtful of him,' Tony said.
Sacks nodded and they sat in silence for a while. This time, it wasn't nearly so awkward.
'How do you cope?' Tony asked eventually. 'Without Mark?'
The agent's face grew solemn, the lines at the corners of his mouth deepening. 'I get up, I go to work, I spend time with friends. Some day, maybe I'll meet someone else I can imprint on, but if I don't, I can't see myself caring.'
'It doesn't bother you to be alone?'
'Of course it does. But I had something incredible while it lasted and there's no way I'm going to waste what we had by regretting that it happened,' Sacks said.
'Doctor Childs said the suicide rate's high for survivors.'
'Jeez, don't sugar coat it, will you?' Sacks looked down at the carpet. 'There are days when I'd rather be dead, but if there's an afterlife, I wouldn't get to spend it with Mark anyway because it'd take just about the whole of eternity for him to get over being pissed at me. And I figure if I'm here, I can keep on doing my best to make a difference, make sure people don't get away with murder. I can make a difference for the ones left behind.'
'Like you,' Tony said softly.
'Like me,' Sacks agreed roughly. He cleared his throat. 'Fornell didn't say who you imprinted on, but it's pretty obvious and I really don't envy you. For what it's worth, if you can get past this bit, if you can both stop fighting it, I think you and Gibbs would be... out of this world.'
It was Tony's turn to clear his throat. 'Yeah, well, I don't think that's going to happen any time soon, Sacks. Thanks for stopping by. It, uh... I appreciate it.'
'Hope you're back on your feet soon, DiNozzo.' Sacks got to his feet. 'I'll see myself out.' He headed into the hallway and paused as the door opened. 'Special Agent Gibbs,' he said, nodding to the older man.
'Agent Sacks,' Gibbs said coolly. He watched as the fed left before heading into the living room. 'What did he want?'
Tony shrugged. 'Just came by for a chat, you know how it is. I think deep down he really likes me.'
'Yeah, like Ziva likes anything pink and frilly,' Gibbs said.
'I know it's your house and all, but what're you doing back? I thought you'd at least make it a whole morning before getting kicked out of work.'
'Got to have some lunch before your physio appointment, Tony,' Gibbs said, moving into the kitchen.
Tony hauled himself to his feet and limped after the older man. 'I'm capable of making myself a sandwich, boss. See? Not stuck in bed any more. I can walk and use one hand at least.'
'It was either feed you or sit going through a bunch of budget forms, DiNozzo,' Gibbs said, exasperated. He pulled a loaf of bread out of the bread bin and stuck four slices into the toaster, then fished cheese, tomatoes, cold meat and mayo out of the fridge. He lined the ingredients up on the worktop, washed the tomatoes and sliced them with quick, economical movements.
'I guess anything's better than budget forms, huh?' Tony lowered himself onto one of the kitchen chairs and watched the older man work.
'Got it in one,' Gibbs said.
Tony fought down a wave of hurt that was unexpectedly strong. 'You know, I'm really not that hungry,' he said lightly. 'It's not like I'm doing a lot to work up an appetite.'
'It'll be ready in a minute. Might as well eat it.' Gibbs buttered the toast and assembled two sandwiches, cutting them in half and putting them onto side plates. 'Here.' He slid one in front of Tony.
'Thanks,' Tony muttered, eyeing the sandwich with distaste.
'Something wrong with it?' Gibbs said with a raised eyebrow. He took a bite of his own, watching Tony the whole time.
Tony picked up his sandwich and ate slowly. It was delicious, but with each bite he took, his throat threatened to close up and in the end, he could only manage half of it. He pushed the plate away. 'I'm done,' he said, ignoring Gibbs' eagle-eyed scrutiny. 'Going to go get changed.'
Slowly, he made his way through the house and up the stairs to the guest room. After a rest, he summoned up his willpower and swapped the sweatpants for a pair of loose jeans. He sat down in the chair to rest again, feeling the sweat prickle along his sides and across his forehead as he closed his eyes and tried to breath normally. Since when was getting dressed such hard work?
'You ready?' Gibbs voice came from the doorway.
'Just have to put on my shoes,' Tony said, dismayed by the weariness he could hear in his voice. He heard a faint rustle, then a hand touched his calf. He opened his eyes to see Gibbs kneeling before him, trainer in hand. 'You know, I could have sworn those pills didn't make me hallucinate.'
'Funny. Lift your foot.' Gibbs avoided looking up at him, concentrating on getting the shoe on his foot and the laces tied. When both shoes were on and fastened, he stood easily, with the lithe grace that Tony knew the older man still possessed, yet somehow managed to surprise him every damn time.
Gibbs held out a hand. 'Up and at 'em, Tony.' His voice was lower than usual, husky, and Tony found himself blushing.
'Yes, boss.' He hesitated a moment longer, then took Gibbs hand, feeling the hard palm, the calluses that came from using a gun, which matched the ones on his own hands, and the ones that came from woodworking, which he'd never had, and let the older man help him to his feet.
Although Gibbs let go in favor of an arm under his good elbow as they made their way, slow and careful, down the stairs, out of the house and into the car, the feel of that hand in his kept him going throughout the torture session the hospital cunningly disguised as physio. And the feel of Gibbs' warm, strong hand stayed with him as he cleaned off the pain and sweat later and retreated back to bed.
When Gibbs drifted into the guest room in the middle of the night, Tony woke briefly, and it was that hand again that smoothed the hair off his forehead and sent him back down into a blessedly dream-free sleep.
The next morning, Tony got himself up and into the bathroom without help, but washing his hair without getting his cast wet or lifting his good arm over his head without being sharply reminded of his cracked ribs was beyond his help. By the time he was out and dressed, though, Gibbs was impatiently waiting to check on him.
'You okay?'
Tony nodded. 'Think I'll catch up on a few movies. Got some quality couch-sitting to do.'
'Fine. Don't forget to take your pills. Need anything, you call.'
With that, Gibbs was out of the door and gone. Tony drifted into the kitchen, gathered together a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee and then transported them, one at a time, into the living room, where he dug out a DVD and the remotes for the player and the tv, then settled onto the couch.
By the time Tony had the movie ready to play, his cereal was soggy. His head felt itchy; he hadn't managed to wash his hair in three days and it was driving him crazy. He was bored with being injured.
'Must be on the mend,' he muttered to himself. 'Too restless to stay on the couch, still too achy to go for a walk. Great.'
If he was honest, his feeling out of sorts wasn't all to do with his convalescence. It wasn't even mostly to do with it. No, he was feeling grumpy because, after having had Gibbs' attention for most of the past week, he was on his own. Not that he missed the other man's company! Still, the couch had grown lumps overnight. The coffee was tar. The film was boring and pretentious.
Tony sighed. 'They could just have shot me,' he grumbled.
Half way through 'The Wilmslow Boy', Tony's phone rang. 'DiNozzo,' he answered. 'Who? Oh, hi there, Doctor Childs. Sorry I didn't get back to you.' He leaned back against the couch, suddenly tired. 'No, I can talk. I'm not in work...' He laughed wearily. 'No, the case didn't go too well. Got a broken shoulder blade, broken arm, a few cracked ribs. I'll be fine... Staying with my boss, he's got it covered... He knows... No, I can't say either of us is happy about it... No, I don't know when we'll be able to get up to Oradell. It'll probably be a while... Thanks anyway... You too.'
He hung up and tossed the phone onto the coffee table, then stared blankly at the television. 'What a mess,' he murmured. 'What an utter fucking mess.'
Tony woke from his doze with a start, automatically reaching for his gun before a throaty laugh stopped him.
'Hey sleepyhead!' Abby came over to the couch and gave him a surprisingly gentle hug.
Tony returned the hug with his good arm, then pulled back, wiping a hand over his face to surreptitiously check for drool. 'Hey Abs. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on people?'
With a grin, the goth replied, 'Nope! In fact, if you think about it, Gibbs has been teaching me to sneak up on people ever since I started working for NCIS.'
Tony rolled his eyes. 'Another case of do as I say, not as I do. What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be running tests and analyzing evidence?'
'Lunch break. Gibbs said it'd be okay to come over. And since it's lunch time, come into the kitchen and let me fix you something.' She held out a hand expectantly.
'I'm fine, Abby. I can get myself something when I'm hungry,' Tony said, ignoring it.
Abby pouted. 'I know that, silly. But I'm hungry and since I'm making lunch for me, I might as well make some for you too. Come on!' She held out her hand again and Tony took it, standing more easily than he had in a while.
'I suppose since you put it that way...' He followed her into the kitchen and watched her root around in the fridge and the cupboards.
'I knew you'd see sense.'
Abby chattered away as she made a pasta salad and took it through to the living room, talking about cases and evidence and the need for rigorous scientific methods. She avoided mentioning Gibbs or asking about imprinting until, after they'd eaten and worn out by her avoidance, Tony put his hand on her arm and she lapsed into silence, staring at him with big, compassionate eyes.
'Abs. It's okay. You can ask.'
'Oh, thank goodness! Because I didn't want to upset you or offend you and you've been through so much and it really can't be easy, being stuck with the bossman, not that he's not great and all, but-'
'Abs! Before I change my mind!' Tony squeezed her arm gently to show he didn't mean it and she smiled, snuggling carefully into his side.
'What's it like, being imprinted?'
Tony wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. 'It's hard. Neither of us wants this, Abs. It's like my body's holding me hostage. Unless I give in and think of Gibbs, it won't perform.'
'He is a fox, though. I mean, it could have been some ugly sailor, or an overweight LEO,' Abby pointed out.
'I'd rather poke out my eyes,' Tony shuddered. 'Small mercies, huh?' He sighed. 'You know, I gotta say, I'm not feeling all that thankful. It could have been a really hot female agent with assets out to here.' He lifted his hand off her shoulder and gestured.
Abby snorted and thumped his leg. 'Ass!'
'Ow! Don't beat up on the injured guy!' Tony protested, and just like that, the mood lightened and they spent twenty minutes giggling together. When Abby had to go back to work, Tony gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek. 'Thanks for stopping by, Abs. It was good to see you.'
'Any time, Tony.' She returned the hug, making him wince as his ribs creaked, then she was gone. Somehow, the rest of the afternoon wasn't so bad.
***
Gibbs glared at the offending paperwork that hadn't magically done itself overnight. With that in mind, he picked up his delegate pile and dropped it on Tim's desk.
'What's this?' Tim asked, looking up into Gibbs' scowling face.
'What does it look like, McGee?' came the sardonic reply.
Tim gulped and looked down again. 'Uh... It looks like...' he flipped through the pile, 'a bunch of requisition forms?'
'Full marks for observation,' Gibbs said, returning to his desk. At least he had a fresh cup of coffee to keep him going while he worked his way through the rest of the paperwork.
'Doesn't Tony normally do these?' Tim asked.
'Do you see DiNozzo anywhere? No? Well now you do them,' Gibbs said firmly.
Tim opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and stared at the stack of forms. 'On it, boss,' he said glumly.
Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and settled down to tackle the top of his urgent pile. It was one of the things Cynthia had given him yesterday. Change of Next of Kin. After that were forms for medical proxy and legal power of attorney. He left blank the form for notification of a relationship within the agency. 'None of your damn business,' he muttered gruffly.
The final set of forms all pertained to his benefits: pension, armed forces pension, life assurance, death in service payment. He'd filled them in before, each time he'd married and the association deepened the frown on his forehead. Tony had been right; somewhere, deep down, Gibbs was looking for happy-ever-after, wanted to grow old with someone special. The forms spread out in front of him made him painfully aware that would never happen, now. One last dream shot down in flames. His chest ached and his head throbbed.
Gibbs wanted to go down to the gym and pound the crap out of a punching bag, but he was afraid that once he started, he wouldn't stop until either the bag or his knuckles were broken.
'He might as well get something out of this whole damn mess,' he scowled.
Gibbs signed the forms.
A morning of paperwork and an afternoon of sifting through cold case files didn't improve his temper any. Neither did going home to a house where his senior field agent looked far too right in his home, seated on the couch watching the TV. Gibbs rang for takeout, dropped a twenty on the table, then retreated to the basement to work on his boat, grateful that Tony had taken one look at him and kept quiet. Then again, the man had always known what he needed, known instinctively how to handle him. Tony had great instincts.
Instinct, hah! And wasn't that the joke! With a bitter smile, Gibbs forced himself to concentrate on his boat, on the simple repetitive tasks that slowly shaped and smoothed and created his boat, his dream, that brought her to life.
A while later, he looked up to find Tony sitting on a step with a pizza box balanced on his knee.
'Hungry?' Tony asked, opening the lid.
As the scent of cheese and tomato, of cooked meat and onion reached him, Gibbs realised, to his surprise, that he was.
'Thanks.' He brushed his hands on his jeans, leaving pale dusty streaks on the worn denim, then took a slice. 'Want to eat upstairs?'
Tony shook his head. 'I'm good here.' He shifted a little and grimaced. 'At least for a little while,' he added, taking his own slice of pizza. As Gibbs finished one slice and reached for another, Tony said, 'Boat's coming along nicely. You ever going to sail her?'
Gibbs shrugged. 'Maybe.'
They ate quietly, companionably, until Tony said, 'I know she's not finished, but she's still beautiful.' His voice held a note of satisfaction and approval, as well as the unspoken assurance that of course Gibbs had done a good job, that it simply wasn't possible for him to do a bad one.
Surprised by the unexpected compliment, Gibbs smiled. 'Yeah, she is.' He finished the last of the pizza and wiped his hands on his jeans again, then stroked one of the boat's ribs. When he looked at Tony, the young man was watching Gibbs' hand with a curious expression on his face. 'Tony?'
'Yes, boss?' Tony looked up, his green eyes, darker than usual, meeting Gibbs' blue eyes, and for a moment, the air crackled between them, electric.
Gibbs felt a jolt of arousal slam through him so hard he couldn't breathe.
Tony gasped, then winced, the sharp intake of breath jolting his abused ribs. He stood, holding the pizza box strategically in front of him. Clearing his throat, he said, 'Going to go upstairs before my ass goes to sleep. You ever think about putting a comfy chair down here?' Without waiting for an answer, he turned and fled upstairs, leaving Gibbs, winded, hard, gripping the rib of the boat to stay upright and feeling as though he'd been blindsided by a truck.
He hid in the basement until Tony was in bed, then spent the night in his own room, dozing and waking, dreaming of tanned skin and a brilliant smile. Resolutely, he stayed there until, rising early, he finally gave in to the urge to check on the younger man. Entirely unfairly, Tony was sound asleep, a faint smile curving the corners of his lips.
Gibbs took a cold shower and tried not to think.
***
Tim came over to visit on Wednesday lunchtime. He brought sandwiches from the deli Tony liked and issues of Playboy and Maxim. 'This is from Ziva,' he said, handing over a padded brown envelope.
'You open it?' Tony said.
Tim shook his head. 'She threatened to break my fingers.'
'That's what I like about her,' Tony said, wedging the envelope between his thighs and using his good hand to tear it open. 'She has a threat for every occasion.' He peeked inside the envelope.
Tim sat down on the couch next to Tony. 'So what is it? A DVD?'
'Probie! You squeezed it, didn't you,' Tony said, delighted. 'Just like Christmas, huh?'
Tim flushed. 'Ziva didn't say anything about not shaking it.'
'Good man! For that, you can go fetch coffee. And a couple of plates.'
'Tony-'
'What? The sooner you go get stuff, the sooner we can eat. And I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.' Tony raised his eyebrows and stared at Tim until the junior agent flushed again and stood up. When he'd left the room, Tony pulled the DVD out of the envelope and groaned.
Total Marine Mayhem! was emblazoned across the front, half-covering the photo of two marines, their chests bare and BDUs unbuttoned, snarling and holding their guns very suggestively. Tony shook his head and dropped the DVD on the coffee table just as Tim returned. He fixed the young man with a glare.
'Gay porn, McGee? I'm surprised Ziva didn't just order the whole Marines Gone Wild series. Oh, wait, then Gibbs would have to kill her.'
Tim choked and nearly tripped over his feet. 'Tony, I didn't know what it was, I swear!'
'Relax, Probie. When you get back to the office, you can help me get payback.' Tony took one of the sandwiches and put it on a plate, then balanced the plate on his knee.
Gingerly, Tim picked up the DVD by one corner, and studied it, blushing at the sight of the photo on the back, which showed a marine sergeant giving one-on-one gun instruction to a recruit. A naked recruit. He dropped it back on the table. 'That's just...'
'Ah ah!' Tony admonished. 'Just remember, our gay servicemen and women deserve just as much respect as all those straight jarheards. Besides, I want you to find me something along the lines of Mossad Mommas or Hebrew Hotties. Gotta be something like that out there somewhere.'
Tim grinned. 'Delivered to her desk?'
Tony nodded. 'If they have any posters, get a couple of those too,' he added.
'You don't think this is escalating a little much?' Tim asked, worriedly.
'Nope! Ziva knows this means war,' Tony said happily. 'She misses me.'
Tim groaned. 'Fine. But I'm using your credit card.'
With a mischievous grin, Tony said, 'Use Gibbs'.' At Tim's look of utter horror, he burst out laughing, then pressed his hand to his side. 'Ow, ow, ow! You're too easy, you know that?'
'You're an ass, you know that?' Tim said, good-naturedly.
'Every time, McGullible, every time.'
***
Ducky came by after work and checked Tony over, nodding to himself over the younger man's progress. 'We'll have you back at your desk in no time.' He made Tony go through his shoulder exercises with Gibbs helping, quelling any thought Gibbs might have had of protesting with one well-timed look over the rims of his glasses. By the end, Tony's shoulder, arm and ribs had to be aching horribly, but he wasn't white and trembling, like the sessions earlier in the week.
'You know, you're doing remarkably well,' Ducky said after Gibbs had retreated to the kitchen. 'Don't overdo it, though, or you'll only set yourself back.'
'Thanks, Duck,' Tony said. 'I know I'm on the mend when I'd rather do physio than watch daytime TV.'
'Yes, I agree,' Ducky said, smiling fondly at the younger man. 'I always think that with so many channels available, there should be something worth watching, but there so rarely is. I find a good book or a journal far more gripping. If you like, I can bring a selection over.'
About to offer a polite denial, Tony paused. 'Actually, that'd be great, thanks.'
'Anything in particular you're interested in?'
'Surprise me,' Tony grinned.
'Is there anything else I can help you with?' Ducky asked.
'Actually, there is,' Tony grimaced, embarrassed. 'I need to wash my hair and with one arm in plaster...'
'Say no more, my dear boy, say no more.' Ducky nodded to himself. 'Go on up to the bathroom and I'll be with you in just a minute.' As Tony left the room, Ducky headed for the kitchen.
'I need to borrow a chair, Jethro,' he said, putting a hand on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 'I'll bring it down when I'm done.'
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. 'What for?'
'Tony needs a hand. I'm providing it,' Ducky said with uncharacteristic brevity. He lifted the chair, only to have Gibbs take it from him.
'I'll carry it.'
'Really, Jethro, I routinely lift and carry dead bodies. I hardly think a chair is going to overtax my strength.' Ducky glared at him over his glasses.
Gibbs held onto the chair and raised his eyebrows.
With a sigh, the ME conceded defeat. 'In that case, do you have a jug I can use?'
'The bottom cupboard on the left.' Gibbs watched as he retrieved it, then followed him upstairs to where Tony was waiting, seated on the side of the bath, stripped to the waist, and the sight made Gibbs pause and close his eyes momentarily. The bruising that bloomed across his side and down his back was fading, but they were still a technicolor reminder of how badly injured Tony had been.
'If you'll allow me?' Ducky said firmly, taking the chair from him and setting it in front of the sink, with the back up against the lip of the sink. 'Anthony, if you wouldn't mind sitting here? I've washed mother's hair on numerous occasions, although the time she thought I was her hairdresser was rather unsettling.' He chattered on, getting Tony settled and leaning back so that his head was over the bowl of the sink, ignoring the way the younger man had tensed up at the sight of his boss and ignoring the way Gibbs was gripping the doorframe so tightly he half expected to see fingermarks in the wood.
With the ease of practise, Ducky filled the jug from the bath taps and tested the water, then carefully wet Tony's hair. As Ducky rubbed the shampoo into a lather, Tony groaned.
'That feels incredible! It's been driving me crazy.'
'You should have said something,' Gibbs said hoarsely.
'No offence,' Tony said, keeping his eyes shut, 'but I figured the last thing you'd want is to have to touch me.'
'Don't be an idiot, DiNozzo,' Gibbs snapped. 'You need help with anything - anything - you tell me. There's a reason you're staying at my house.'
'Beyond you secretly lusting after my widescreen TV?' Tony teased, then flushed. 'Seriously, boss, this goes above and beyond the call of duty.'
Gibbs growled. 'Ducky.'
The ME looked at him for a moment, assessingly, then stepped aside. He took Gibbs' place in the doorway and watched as the ex-marine refilled the jug, then, cupping one hand across Tony's forehead to stop the suds getting in his eyes, he gently rinsed the younger man's hair. The gesture was surprisingly intimate, protective, and Ducky had the sudden sense that he was intruding.
Tony was quiet until Gibbs had finished and carefully towelled off the excess. Then he sat forwards and took the towel. 'You get a lot of practise at that too?' he asked, rubbing the towel over his head.
'Used to,' Gibbs said flatly. 'I'll take the chair down.'
Tony paused. 'I didn't mean-'
'I know.' Gibbs waited for him to stand and move aside, then picked up the chair and left the bathroom.
Taking in the slump of Tony's shoulders, Ducky shook his head. 'Come along, Anthony. I'll help you on with a fresh t-shirt. I don't want you catching cold on top of everything else.'
Tony followed him into the guest bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as Ducky carefully guided the t-shirt up and over the cast on his arm. 'I need to go home, Ducky. I can't stay here. It's like things are fine one moment, then the next we're heading straight into the Twilight Zone. I can't sit around waiting for, I don't know, the sky to fall in!'
Ducky patted Tony's shoulder, then sat beside him. 'You can't go home if you can't wash your own hair. And whether you like it or not, things with Jethro will change, although I suspect the sky will remain in the heavens. I could be wrong, but I am very hopeful that you will find some way past this.'
Tony looked at him sharply, his eyes anguished. 'I don't know, Ducky. What if... what if we can't? How do I go back to work? Everyone knows about me and Gibbs, and there isn't even a 'me and Gibbs' for them to know about!'
'You go back to work the way you have every time you've been injured, with your head held high. You have the backing not only of myself and the rest of the team, but also of Director Vance. If anyone has any problem whatsoever with either of you, or the situation in which you find yourselves, they will have a long line of people to answer to,' Ducky said determinedly. 'Don't ever think that you are alone in this, Anthony, because you aren't.'
'But what if Gibbs can't work with me?' Tony whispered.
'Then he's a bigger fool than I ever imagined.'
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.