Tony was growing tired of the hospital.
While things like terrible food, sterile blankets, plain walls, bad TVs, and good old-fashioned boredom didn't exactly propel his stay to higher popularity, the main reason for his dislike was that lying in bed was killing him.
It wasn't a matter of feeling restless or being uncomfortable - it was just that lying in bed with nothing to do left him with only one thing: thinking. And ever since he'd heard the words "Devic's Disease," his brain hadn't stopped spinning.
He just wanted to leave. He wanted to go home - and what shocked him most was that he didn't really miss his plasma TV, or his DVD collection, or his giant, luxurious bed; he missed Gibbs' homemade blanket, and Gibbs' Cheerios, and Gibbs' boat, and, well, Gibbs.
He sighed and ran a tired hand over his face, wondering exactly how that happened. Looking at Gibbs with something akin to hero-worship was nothing new to him, and neither was being fascinated by the man's home. But that was different.
Now, he wasn't looking at Gibbs with hero-worship at all. He was looking at Gibbs like a friend-no, not a friend, he thought. Not quite a mentor, either.
He put his hand over his eyes and exhaled loudly through his mouth. If he wasn't looking at Gibbs as a friend, and not as a mentor, and not just as a boss, well, that didn't leave too many other options, and the warm feeling he felt when he thought of sitting in the basement with him, watching him sand the boat, and eating breakfast with him, and seeing his hazelnut creamer in Gibbs' fridge-
Jesus, Tony thought. He couldn't imagine what Gibbs would say if he knew. He could imagine Gibbs just giving him a firm head-slap and sending him packing, or worse, firing him-
And then, he thought, what if he suddenly fell into some strange alternate universe where Gibbs wasn't disgusted by him, where Gibbs felt those same weird warm twinges about Tony that Tony felt about Gibbs - and then his thoughts spiraled back to lying in the hospital bed, on the receiving end of a diagnosis he still hadn't quite wrapped his head around, and how unfair that was.
And on top of that, his leg was still tingly and weak. He could feel it more than he could when he entered the hospital, but he could barely put any weight on it, and it constantly felt like it fell asleep. Just getting up to use the bathroom required a cane for him to walk with and two nurses to spot him-just in case. He knew he wasn't going to fall; he'd used canes and crutches before with his various sports and work-related injuries, but they always had to be extra-cautious in the hospital, which just made him feel even more helpless and irritated.
And he couldn't help but wonder - was he going to have to use that ugly metal cane all the time? Was his leg going to stay like this?
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his doorframe, so he dropped his hand from his face and glanced toward the door, doing his best to muster up a smile. "Hey Doc-"
But it wasn't Dr. Foss, giving his usual knock before he entered.
Tony's brow furrowed, and he tried not to let his smile falter.
"Hey, Brian," he said, "heard you went to New York recently. How was your trip?" he asked, trying desperately to sound casual, reaching for his nurse's button - but Parker was quick, and he closed the door, entered the room, and easily moved the call button out of reach before Tony could get to it.
"Agent DiNozzo," Parker said, his voice falsely pleasant and hiding an edge of iciness. "What a shame to see you in the hospital," he added, sitting on the edge of Tony's bed. His sandy blonde hair appeared even lighter than it was under the bright hospital lights, and if Tony didn't know better, he'd think this guy was the perfect American next-door-neighbor. Tony did know better, though, and he did his best to slide away from him - but hospital beds were only so big.
"Something tells me you're not here for a chat," Tony said, his stomach twisting in knots. He was trained for situations like these, yes, but that was when he was standing on two feet, a gun clipped to his waist, and all of his facilities in working order. It was a little bit different to be lying in a hospital bed, attached to an IV, barely able to stand without a cane.
Parker laughed, and Tony was more unnerved than he would've liked to admit. When he last saw Parker in the interrogation room, he'd been, well, stoned, and vaguely shocky, and definitely not this calculating, competent man sitting on his bed.
"When I was at NCIS last time, I noticed you weren't there," he said. "And I overheard your boss telling the Israeli chick to stop here. I put two and two together," he added.
"I didn't know you were good at math," Tony said, giving him a wide smile. "Good for you."
"That's not funny," Parker said, his eyebrows furrowing. He reached out and put his fingers on the IV attached to Tony's arm and idly tugged on it, not enough to remove it, but enough to make the skin underneath it twist and pull uncomfortably. Tony resisted the temptation to reach out and twist Parker's wrist because he knew that if he started something physical, he most likely couldn't stop it or come out on top. The best thing, he thought, was to just act like the whole situation was normal, and stall for time, and hope like hell that someone would come into the room.
"Because of Agent Gibbs, my friends are dead," Parker said, his voice low.
Shit, Tony thought.
"They're not coming back," Parker added needlessly, eyes trained on Tony's IV.
"Gibbs didn't kill them," Tony said, using his training to remain calm and not panic and to try to reason with Parker.
Parker's eyes shot up to Tony's. "Maybe he didn't pull the trigger," Parker said, "but it's his fault they're dead."
Tony's eyes shifted to the doorway. Where the fuck are the nurses in this goddamn hospital?
"I want him to know what it's like," Parker said, and his voice was low. Tony knew that tone; he'd heard it from plenty of crazy suspects before. It was a dangerous tone, one of a man who was on the edge.
"You don't have to do this," Tony said, "because he already knows."
Parker narrowed his eyes. "Then he can find out again," he said, and Tony winced when he yanked the IV out of his arm, the medical tape holding it in place ripping off quickly. Suddenly, without warning, Parker's hands were around his throat and even as Tony's eyes widened in surprise, he kicked out with his good leg and brought his arms up to push him off, but Parker was a strong bastard, and Tony was weak from lying in a hospital bed for so long.
Parker's thumb was pressing into his windpipe, and Tony knew this was dangerous. He tried his best to thrash around underneath him, hoping to make some noise, anything to alert someone's attention, but the damn curtain around his bed was pulled and the door was closed, and just as he thought to scream out, one of Parker's hands left his throat to cover his mouth. Tony tried to bite the hand, to do something, but it wasn't working, so he thrashed again, and this time, it was enough to move Parker - only it moved both of them, and they landed in a heap on the floor, chairs crashing to the side, and Parker was swearing loudly, his hand tightening on Tony's throat, and just as Tony thought 'shit shit shit shit shit' and black spots started to dance on the edge of his vision, Parker was pulled off him, and Gibbs was there, like a fucking tornado, yanking Parker and pushing him to the side like a ragdoll, mindless of the equipment in the room - and was that Ziva he heard shoving Parker into the wall?
And then Gibbs was right next to him, his face inches from Tony's, his hand gently cradling Tony's head away from the floor, his other hand on Tony's chest, and there were nurses coming in the room, fast, so Tony reached out and clutched at Gibbs' arm, feeling oddly weak, his head spinning, gasping for air.
"Gibbs," he tried to say, but it came out as a strange breathy gasp.
"Easy," Gibbs was saying, "easy, Tony, I got your six, relax." Even in the haze of having almost lost consciousness, Tony knew Gibbs' tone, knew that even though his voice was gentle and comforting, he was pissed, but that he was there for Tony nonetheless, and he squeezed Gibbs' arm as best he could, even though his strength was not anywhere near where it would normally be. Gibbs rubbed his thumb along the back of Tony's head, and Tony continued to gasp for breath, staring up at Gibbs, and as the nurses tried to pull Gibbs away, to help Tony back up, Gibbs remained where he was, stubborn as always, and it was Gibbs' hands under his armpits that got him standing, and Gibbs' hands that kept him from falling over onto the floor again, and Gibbs' hands that pushed him back onto his bed, Gibbs' hand that covered his as the nurses gave him oxygen and checked him over and as he allowed his eyes to close, consciousness finally losing its elusive grip, it was Gibbs' hand in his hair that told him - it's okay now, Tony, rest.
--
The first thing Tony became aware of when he woke up, besides the unwelcome presence of a nasal cannula up his nose and a general, all-encompassing sensation of achiness, was a warm, calloused hand gripping his own. He blinked his eyes open and looked blearily around him.
"Gibbs?" he asked, surprised at how raspy his voice was.
"Hey, Tony," Gibbs said. He looked tired again, the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced, but his grip on Tony's hand didn't waver.
Tony looked around, wondering why his throat felt so strange, when it all came flooding back to him, and he felt his breath speeding up as his eyes scanned the room.
"It's okay," Gibbs said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Parker's gone."
"Where?" Tony asked, swallowing uncomfortably.
"We got him back at NCIS," Gibbs said. "We've been tracking the GPS in his cell phone since he came in for questioning. McGee noticed he was heading here, and we came right over." He paused, and Tony marveled at the calming feeling of Gibbs' thumb sliding back and forth over his hand.
"It's a damn good thing McGee caught that," Gibbs said, and he was staring at Tony so intently that Tony couldn't bring himself to look away.
"Think I can get rid of this thing?" Tony asked after a moment of uncomfortable staring, reaching up with his free hand to tug gently on his nasal cannula, eager to break the strange moment between them.
"Not up to me," Gibbs said with a shrug.
"Don't you have to interrogate him?" Tony finally asked, mind still on Parker no matter how much he tried to distract himself.
Gibbs looked conflicted, but his eyes never strayed from Tony's. "Someone needs to stay here," he said. "You need protection detail," he added.
Despite the feeling of Gibbs' hand, warm on his own, and the way Gibbs was staring at him, and the increasingly familiar warm feeling in his chest, Tony's eyes narrowed and he looked at Gibbs angrily. "Send someone else for protection detail," he said, his voice raspy.
Gibbs looked surprised and confused and maybe even a little hurt, and it was such a rare and unusual countenance for him that Tony almost - almost - regretted his words.
"You gotta get him, Gibbs," Tony said desperately, his voice strained from his run-in with Parker earlier, as he squeezed Gibbs' hand hard. "Ziva and McGee are probies. They need you there to get the truth out of Parker. I'm not some...some damsel in distress."
Gibbs rubbed his forehead tiredly with his free hand. "Never said you were," he said, but Tony knew from the way his shoulders slumped that he'd made a point.
"I know I have this disease, Boss, and I know I let him-"
"Hey," Gibbs interrupted sharply, "you didn't let him do anything. You fought him as best you could, and I don't want to hear anything else." Gibbs was suddenly back into full-on boss mode, his back straight and his tone leaving no room for argument.
Tony swallowed thickly, despite the scratchy irritation in his throat. "Either way," he said, voice soft and rough, "you have to do your job."
"My job is to watch out for my team," Gibbs said. He spoke in a low and dangerous tone; one Tony was quite familiar with.
"It is," Tony agreed, and he squeezed Gibbs' hand again gently. "That's why you have to go get him to tell you what's going on. If you want to-to protect me, then go get him," Tony said, his expression pleading. "There's more going on here than we know," he added, voice breaking with a painful cough at the end of his sentence.
Automatically, Gibbs grabbed a cup of water off of Tony's bedside table and held it out, and Tony eagerly sipped through the straw before Gibbs pulled it away again.
"Please, Boss," Tony said. "You're the only one I trust to get the truth out of him."
"I know," Gibbs said, and he sighed. "Christ, I know," he repeated. "I just wanted to make sure-"
He cut himself off, and again, rubbed his free hand over his face. Tony had never seen Gibbs quite like this, and it was unnerving. This whole situation felt surreal and confusing, and he was sure that he must be misreading the hand holding his, and the way Gibbs seemed to put him ahead of his job-
"We're gonna get him, Tony," Gibbs said, looking at him with narrowed eyes and a cold determination that was familiar, that Tony usually saw on only the most intense cases, that he hadn't seen in a while, maybe not since Ari. Tony nodded, swallowing thickly, unsure of what to say, and he watched as Gibbs pulled his phone out.
"David," he snapped after a pause. "Get your ass over here, now. You're on protection detail," he barked, before snapping his phone shut and shoving it back in his pocket.
"You got two Marines on your door, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, gesturing with his head towards Tony's closed hospital door.
"Two?" Tony rasped. "Isn't that overkill?"
"You're a federal agent, assaulted by someone who may or may not be working alone. It's protocol," Gibbs said. "David is taking over your detail. She stays in here while the Marines take the door. I'm gonna get Parker to talk."
Tony nodded, pleased to see Gibbs back to pissed and foreboding, even if it did add to the strange surreal nature of the situation that the same Gibbs who was barking orders with his Marine posture was gently holding his hand.
"Boss," he said, knowing he probably shouldn't push it, but unable to help himself.
"What?" Gibbs replied snappishly.
"Just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to treat me with kid gloves," he said. "I'm not gonna break."
Gibbs was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Wasn't treating you with kid gloves, DiNozzo," he said, and he sound exasperated and impatient. "You're not a kid."
"Sure felt like it," Tony rasped sourly.
Gibbs shook his head and didn't say anything, just kept sliding his thumb back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over Tony's, until he abruptly stood up, still holding Tony's hand, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Tony's hand was resting in Gibbs' lap now, clutched in Gibbs' own hand, and Tony felt his heart speed up when he looked at Gibbs, sitting so close their bodies were touching, with his head bowed and his eyes trained on their hands.
Suddenly Gibbs looked up, and he moved one hand to Tony's face, gently brushing the backs of his fingers along Tony's cheek, his eyes staring straight into Tony's. Tony was completely still, almost afraid to breathe, afraid that he would ruin this strange moment between them.
"I wouldn't treat you with kid gloves," Gibbs said, and his voice was soft and gruff just a touch amused and gentle.
Tony swallowed, suddenly completely aware of his body, of Gibbs' leg pressed against his hip, of Gibbs' fingers, still just barely touching his face, of Gibbs' hand, holding his own. He felt like his whole world was flipping upside-down because there was no misreading this. Even if he didn't know what kind of name to put to it, or what Gibbs was thinking, there was no mistaking the ghost of a touch on his cheek, or the unfamiliar - but not unwelcome - look in Gibbs' eyes.
He squeezed Gibbs' hand, to let him know this was okay, this was more than okay, this was perfect - and then Gibbs was leaning forward until his face was inches from Tony's and Tony felt paralyzed, sure that this could not be happening - and then Gibbs' hand shifted and it was cupping his face, and Tony swallowed again, ignoring the scratchiness of his throat in favor of noticing the little flecks of teal near Gibbs' pupils, and the way Gibbs' breath felt, warm against his lips, and then Gibbs' eyes crinkled in the corners and he was smiling, and suddenly Tony was smiling, too, and this was surreal - and then Gibbs leaned forward, hesitantly, his eyes flickering down to look at Tony's lips, then back up at Tony's eyes, and Tony gave the barest of nods before Gibbs' eyes slipped closed, and so did Tony's, and then Gibbs' mouth was on his own, lips soothing and warm and gentle, and Tony brought his free hand up to clutch at the back of Gibbs' shirt.
This was heaven, this was everything he never knew he always needed, this was eight years in the making, this was bliss, this was a constant supply of hazelnut creamer in the fridge of a man who drank his coffee black, this was dreams coming to life - this was everything, and Tony sighed as Gibbs pulled back after pressing one more small kiss to the corner of Tony's lips. It had been a short, simple kiss, and yet, it had been one of the most intense that Tony had ever had, and that was saying something. Tony kept his hand burrowed in Gibbs' shirt, keeping him close, and he looked at him through eyes half-closed, wondering what kind of expression was on his face, because he couldn't be bothered to care, but if the strangely open and warm expression on Gibbs' face was anything to go by, it must've been something quite unlike his usual look.
"Gibbs," Tony breathed, voice barely a whisper, hoping to God those weren't tears he could feel building behind his eyes - and then Gibbs was kissing him again, this time without hesitation, and it was needy and perfect, noses bumping just-so until they got the angle worked out, lips sliding and pressing against each other's, and then Gibbs' tongue was pressing against his own, and Tony gave a choked gasp into the velvety kiss, his every nerve ending on fire, Gibbs' hand leaving his own to come up and tangle in his short hair, his own hand moving to Gibbs' back, sliding up and down, savoring the warmth and strength underneath his fingertips.
And then, some indeterminable amount of time later that in Tony's head felt like hours but in reality was probably seconds, Gibbs' mouth left his, and Gibbs was staring at him, eyes soft, mouth wet. Gibbs carefully pushed the nasal cannula back into place - guess we know I don't need that thing now, Tony thought absently - and Tony was left with nothing to do but stare, eyes wide, at Gibbs, his chest moving quicker than usual.
"You'll be okay without me here?" Gibbs asked, his voice husky and quiet and intimate.
Tony nodded, unable to speak.
"You need anything, you call me right away," Gibbs said. "I mean it."
Again, Tony merely nodded, looking shell-shocked. He let one hand fall from Gibbs' back, and Gibbs immediately took it into his own, intertwining their fingers and bringing it up and holding it against his lips, pressing a kiss into their knuckles with his eyes closed, lips lingering longer than necessary, and Tony could feel color rising in his cheeks, and he could feel that twinge in his chest that was becoming all-too-familiar constrict pleasantly.
And then Gibbs looked up at him, and their eyes met, and Gibbs suddenly looked embarrassed, and Tony couldn't really blame him and he felt an embarrassed smile of his own spread across his face, his heart still hammering in his chest - what was this?
And then Gibbs leaned forward and gave him one last chaste kiss, his fingers caressing Tony's hair and cheeks, thumb sliding over his cheekbones, and then he was pressing a kiss into his forehead, and then his temple, and then his jaw, and then, all too soon, he was gone, sitting in the chair next to Tony's bed that felt miles away, one hand holding Tony's, just like when he woke up.
"Ziva'll be here soon," Gibbs said, and his voice was still soft. "I'm gonna get Parker to talk," he added, and Tony found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying when the lips forming the words were the same pair that had just been pressed against his own, and when his body felt strangely cold without Gibbs pressed up against him, and when he was still reeling. "And after I close this goddamn case, I'm coming straight back here, and I'm not leaving until I leave with you," he said, and his voice didn't waver, but he sounded strangely vulnerable even in his determination, and Tony squeezed his hand.
"Gibbs," Tony said, unsure of what else to say, brain in a fog, before he settled on, "make him talk fast."
Gibbs laughed, a short surprised laugh, and Tony smiled.
Whatever this was, this new intimate physical romantic thing, it was still just the same old two of them, Gibbs and Tony, and while he had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, and he felt vaguely terrified and unsure and all of twelve years old, Tony couldn't help but squeeze Gibbs' hand, and smile, and hope that he didn't fuck it up.
"Hey, Boss," he said, his raspy voice making him sound even more insecure than he felt, "we'll be okay, right?" He wasn't even quite sure what he was asking; whether he meant they'd still be able to work together, or they'd pull through even if Tony did something to mess this strange thing between them up, or, God forbid, they'd keep doing this, whatever it was, but he needed Gibbs to tell him it was okay and to push some of his confusion away.
"Damn right we will," Gibbs said, and his voice left no room for argument.
"Okay," Tony said in relief, because he could sit back and let Gibbs take the lead for now, and let Gibbs reassure him. That was familiar territory.
"We'll figure all this out later," Gibbs said, giving Tony's hand a squeeze.
Tony nodded, and tried to ignore how cold his hand felt when Gibbs let it go as the door suddenly swung open.
"Gibbs," Ziva greeted, giving him a nod, "Tony," she added. "How are you doing?"
A lot of answers popped up in Tony's mind, none of which were entirely appropriate, so he gave her a tired smile. "Fine," he said, and Gibbs snorted, but when Tony glanced at him, he was looking at him with a smile.
"We have not yet started on Parker, like you asked," Ziva said to Gibbs.
Tony's head swiveled from Ziva to Gibbs. "Hang on," Tony said, "were you planning on going back and interrogating him yourself from the start?"
Gibbs quirked a grin and shrugged. "Hadn't decided yet," he said, still looking at Tony in that strange, gentle way.
Tony laughed, the absurdity of the day catching up to him, as Ziva looked between them in confusion. Gibbs stood with a slight smile, stretched, gave Tony a light tap on the head that was maybe one tenth of a usual head slap, and made his way to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and when he turned around, his face was set in grim determination.
"I'm gonna go get this bastard to talk," he said, voice threatening and low. "And then I'm coming back for you. Got it, DiNozzo?"
Tony smiled, hoping he didn't look as flushed as he felt while Ziva was watching. "Got it, Boss."
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