Tony was beginning to feel edgy and irritated for no reason whatsoever. He was eating Chinese takeout with his team - even Palmer - at Gibbs' house, and everyone was laughing and having a good time, and he was smiling and joking and picking at his food - but he was tired, and he couldn't believe that merely sitting around and talking and eating would take this much out of him. He was growing impatient with himself; he knew it would take a while to get back on his feet after being in the hospital, but he was beginning to think this was overkill.
"Hey," Gibbs said, poking at Tony's mostly full plate with a chopstick. "Eat that," he added quietly, unnoticed by everyone else as the conversation continued to bubble around them.
Tony turned to Gibbs and glared as all of the annoyance and frustration and impatience he'd been trying to hide came to the forefront, prompted by Gibbs' mother-hen behavior. When Gibbs looked at him with a strange mixture of irritation and concern on his face, he looked away with a frown as he realized what he was doing and turned back to his plate, the corners of his lips tugging further down when his rice kept falling off of his chopsticks. Annoyed, he set them down and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't really hungry, anyway.
"Tony," Ziva said from where she sat across from him. "You have been complaining about the quality of your food in the hospital for days; are you not more excited to eat real food? Your favorite, nonetheless?"
Abby looked away from her conversation with Ducky at Ziva's words and peered over at his plate. "Tony, you really should eat more than that!" she said with a frown as Ducky looked on, his annoyance at being ignored replaced with concern for Tony.
Tony sighed, willing himself to push the rising irritation down, and he managed a half-hearted smile. "I'll save it for lunch tomorrow," he said, keeping his tone light.
He hated this. He didn't like everyone treating him like he was some sulky five-year-old who wouldn't eat dinner, like he was a fucking invalid, like he needed everyone to coddle him - and he abruptly stood up, grabbing the table quickly for balance when he almost toppled over, pushing Gibbs' hand away when he reached out to steady him.
"I think I can make it to the head on my own," he snapped at Gibbs, making his way unsteadily down the hall, well aware of the uneasy silence that followed his departure, ignoring the sounds of Ducky's voice talking about medicinal side-effects when they thought he was out of hearing range - because he just wanted a minute to himself.
He resisted the urge to slam the bathroom door and instead closed it softly. He expertly ignored the way his hands were shaking as he pushed the lid of the toilet down and sat heavily on it, putting his head in his hands and trying to breathe through the panic that was starting to flood him.
Suddenly it was beginning to really hit him - yes, he'd had a nice afternoon with Gibbs, a perfect afternoon with Gibbs, and yes, it was nice of his team to bring him dinner - but he felt like he was no part of that team anymore, and everyone was treating him differently, and he was treating himself differently, and he just wanted to go in and joke around and smile and laugh but he couldn't.
Because suddenly it was really starting to sink in - the way he felt so dizzy when he stood from the table, the way he got tired after standing in Gibbs' kitchen for a few minutes, the way he couldn't make it through even half of The Lady from Shanghai - he had a fucking disease, and suddenly he was pissed about it. Pissed and terrified and devastated and so many other things he couldn't put a name to, and didn't want to put a name to, that it was much easier to just call it 'pissed.'
With a sigh, he pressed his shaky hands into his eyes and tried to regain some control, doing his best to push the frantic thoughts in his mind away. He removed his hands after a while and set his jaw in determination. He knew he had to go back out there, so he grabbed the counter for support as he stood up and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face and getting his breathing under control.
He pressed one of Gibbs' soft towels into his face to dry off and kept it there for a moment, breathing in the familiar smell, and he stood stock still, breathing, thinking - Man up, DiNozzo - and finally, he squared his shoulders and made his way out of the bathroom. He felt guilty when everyone in the kitchen turned and looked at him with too-forgiving smiles upon his return, and he smiled at them as he made his way to his seat.
"See? Told you I could get there by myself. I even made it back," he said, turning to Gibbs with a half-hearted attempt at a smile, and Gibbs rolled his eyes and swatted the back of his head - Tony knew that meant his unspoken apology was accepted (but also knew that there was no way Gibbs wouldn't bring it up later), and when Gibbs shoved his chopsticks back in his hand, he frowned but did his best to eat a little more - or maybe at least make it look like he was eating a little more to make the tension at the table slightly less palpable.
"McGee!" Abby suddenly said, looking at him in surprise. "Oh my God! I can't believe I forgot to bring this up! How did Jethro do at the vet's? Is he okay? Was he-"
"He's fine, Abby," McGee said. "He just got his routine shots and check up. He's doing great."
And just like that, the tension was broken, and everyone was conversing again - Ziva was encouraging McGee to bring more pictures of him and the dog to work, Ducky was telling a story that only Palmer seemed to be listening to, and Tony was pushing his rice around on his plate while Gibbs watched with a frown of displeasure. If everyone's conversations seemed just a little too bright, well, Tony could ignore that. He was good at ignoring things.
After eating a few more bites, Tony let his chopsticks fall and he leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
"Well," Ducky said once there was a lull in conversation as he caught sight of Tony, "I do believe it's getting late, and I, for one, am a rather old fellow and if I don't get home soon, I won't want to wake up in the morning. Not to mention, I much prefer driving when it's still dusk."
Tony glanced at the clock, and saw that it was only 7:00. He knew that Ducky was lying, but that was okay with him, because he was exhausted and cranky and he felt like everything was crashing down around him.
"But it's only-oh," Abby said, realizing why Ducky wanted to cut out early only when McGee nudged her shin under the table and tilted his head subtly towards Tony. Tony was a trained investigator, though, and he saw their entire silent conversation, but he chose to ignore the obvious as he watched their interactions because he wasn't sure he had the energy to do any differently.
And just like that, everyone was standing and throwing away empty cartons and cleaning plates, and Tony merely watched from his seat at the table, feeling a headache building behind his eyes from a combination of stress and exhaustion, and he felt a strange energy building up within him, an unsettling combination of anger and despair and fear. He swallowed thickly and frowned when Gibbs laid a warm hand on his shoulder; he wasn't sure he could handle the comfort without giving in to the emotions he could feel churning in the pit of his stomach.
Tony let his fingers trail over the smooth wood of Gibbs' kitchen table, and he idly wondered if Gibbs made that, too, like he did many other things in his house. Everyone was talking again; Ziva was complaining to McGee that he did a terrible job of clearing plates, and Ducky was telling Abby a complicated story that Tony didn't bother following, and Palmer was interjecting now and again, but Tony didn't want to contribute or listen.
He thought of sitting outside on the bench with Gibbs, flush against his side and warm and content and he brought a hand up and ran it over his face, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay. Gibbs squeezed his shoulder and went over towards the sink, giving a hand to everyone cleaning up and Tony watched him, eyes locked on his strong back and capable hands.
Suddenly he just wanted everyone gone so he could hang on to Gibbs and try and soak up some of his strength, and he bit his lip and dredged up a smile when Abby came over and draped her arms over his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.
"Are you feeling neglected over here, Tony?" she asked, her hair rustling against his cheek.
Tony turned his head to look at her and tried again to smile. "Nah," he said, "just figured I'd let everyone else do the cleaning. It's not really my thing."
Abby laughed and gave him a squeeze. "We're gonna get going in a minute," she said, "but will you call me tomorrow when you're here all alone?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "I might forget," he said, "Maybe you should send a babysitter."
"Tony!" Abby said, swatting him lightly. "Just call me, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Tony said, and she gave him one final squeeze before standing up again.
He sighed and took a moment to gather some energy before pushing himself up to standing, holding onto the table when his head swam and closing his eyes. Abby held onto his arm out of worry, and when his dizzy spell passed, he turned to her with a tight smile. "Don't worry, Abs," he said, but he wasn't surprised when she grabbed him in a tight hug once more.
He felt unsteady on his feet when she let go of him, and he cursed the stupid disease because he knew he shouldn't be that tired or that dizzy, and as he held onto the back of one of Gibbs' chairs for support, he wondered whether or not he'd ever feel normal again, and the desperation that he'd started to feel in the bathroom continued to grow.
He was relieved when everyone seemed to be finished cleaning up, and Ziva gave him a pat on the arm as she said her goodbyes, and McGee nodded at him, and Ducky told him to call if he needed anything, and Palmer gave him a smile and a hand on the shoulder, and Gibbs just kept watching him in a way Tony couldn't quite place. Tony just smiled and nodded and tried to act like he wasn't ready to collapse, and he trailed behind them wearily as they headed towards the door. He felt strange, like he was walking on a trampoline, and he must've looked strange, because Gibbs gave him a stern look and grabbed onto his arm as he walked. Tony was grateful, and felt some tension leave his shoulders.
As soon as the door was closed and everyone was out, Gibbs stood in front of him, shifting his hands to Tony's upper arms to help him stay upright.
"Should you be using your cane?" Gibbs asked, brow furrowed, watching him carefully.
Tony felt his face flush with embarrassment. "No," he said shortly, even though he knew very well that he felt tired and strange and unbalanced, and that maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea.
And instead of pushing him for answers, or calling him out on lying, or asking him why he'd had such an attitude earlier, or asking him how he felt, Gibbs sighed and cupped Tony's face with one of his hands, stepping closer and rubbing his thumb gently over his cheekbone. He leaned forward, and looked like he was about to kiss him, but Tony suddenly felt all of his emotions coming back full force and he felt the tension come right back into his shoulders and he frowned and stepped backwards away from Gibbs, shoving his hands away, feeling dangerously unsteady without Gibbs grounding him - he was exhausted - but also feeling unaccountably edgy.
"Hey," Gibbs said softly. "C'mon, you look like you're about to fall over."
Tony swallowed thickly. "I'm not gonna fall over," he said in a rush, "I'm not a fucking invalid, I can handle standing in the goddamn front hall for a minute, and I don't need a fucking cane," he spat.
Gibbs put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay," he said, "but let me-"
"No," Tony said, voice choked. This was too much. The pain in his head was sharp, and he was tired and raw and he didn't know how to handle this, because he was finally out of the hospital and home but he felt terrible, and he just wanted things to be normal, but they wouldn't, and Gibbs was being so nice that it was making him confused, and he felt like he was about to break into pieces.
Gibbs looked like he wasn't quite sure what to do, so he just stood and watched him, and Tony grabbed onto the front hall table for support, his legs rubbery beneath him, and he kept his eyes anywhere but Gibbs, trying to keep himself under control. He could feel his breathing speed up, and he swallowed again.
"I don't need your help," Tony finally said. He wanted to move from the hall, but he wasn't sure he could, and he just wanted Gibbs to leave him alone.
Gibbs still wasn't saying anything, and it wasn't helping Tony's nerves to be under his intense gaze, and he felt his breath hitch, but he stubbornly pushed his emotions aside. That was all Gibbs needed to hear, though, and then without hesitation, Gibbs stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.
"Get away," Tony protested, pushing at him, "just go," he added, knowing that he couldn't stop what was coming, but trying nonetheless.
Gibbs ran a hand up and down Tony's back and pressed a kiss into his temple, holding him close despite his protests, and Tony felt the fight leave him as Gibbs' breath ghosted across his skin and he sagged against Gibbs and gave in to the churning emotions within him.
"I'm sorry," he said weakly, his voice soaking into Gibbs' neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured, feeling weak and vulnerable and terrified. "I can't-"
He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed, doing his best to stay upright. He could feel tears leaking out of his eyes but he was too tired to care, and his head was pounding, and he felt embarrassed when a sob rose in his throat, and he wondered when he turned into an over-emotional twelve-year-old girl and he wound his fingers into Gibbs' shirt when he felt his knees wobble.
And then he was crying, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop, and Gibbs was holding him tight, and that was a damn good thing because he was pretty sure he'd be on the floor if it weren't for Gibbs.
"I have a headache," he said weakly, words punctuated by sobs. "I want-I don't-"
"Let me take you to bed," Gibbs said softly, his breath tickling Tony's ear.
Tony felt almost delirious in his hysteria. "I can't," he said, "please, I can't, I'm so tired."
"Shh," Gibbs said. "I know you're tired. C'mon."
Gibbs took a step towards the stairs, tugging Tony along, and Tony managed to take the step with him, but then he tightened his hold on Gibbs and pressed his forehead closer to Gibbs' neck, keeping him from moving further. "Gibbs," he breathed, his knees buckling. Gibbs held him steady and pressed kisses into his temple.
"What am I gonna do?" Tony said, tears soaking into Gibbs' shirt. "I can't-"
He tried desperately to breathe, but it wasn't working very well, and Gibbs continued to hold onto him and keep him standing.
"Listen," Gibbs said, his voice soft but strong. "You listening to me?"
Tony nodded against Gibbs' neck, gasping for breath and trying desperately to calm down.
"This is what you can do, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, holding onto him tight. "You can let me take care of you. I got you. Hear that? We're in this together."
Tony shook his head, sniffing loudly and hoping his snot wasn't all over Gibbs' shirt. "I can take care of myself," he protested, the tightening of his fingers in Gibbs' shirt belying his words.
"Everybody needs help sometimes," Gibbs said. "Let me help you."
Tony was embarrassed and tired and dizzy, and his head was throbbing, and he didn't know how much longer he could stand up. "Don't need help," he said, even though he was quite aware that he was blatantly lying.
Gibbs sighed, his breath ruffling Tony's short hair, and he pressed a kiss against Tony's temple.
"DiNozzo," he said after a pause, his unexpectedly sharp voice breaking into the haze over Tony's brain. Tony stiffened at the tone and listened carefully. "Don't be a jackass."
And then Tony was half-laughing and half-crying, and it was so unexpected and surreal that his knees finally did give way, but Gibbs helped him stay up, taking his weight and keeping him steady until he could find his footing again, and then Tony felt his tears easing up and he let Gibbs help him slowly up the stairs, and it didn't hit him until Gibbs was pushing him down to sit on the edge of a bed that he wasn't in the guest room-he was in Gibbs' room. He looked around in confusion, swallowing thickly, his breath still hitching, but Gibbs reached out and smoothed his hair and pressed a kiss into his forehead and Tony felt his shoulders slump.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," Tony said, his voice soft and breathy and tired.
"I can think of a couple things," Gibbs said, and Tony cracked a smile despite himself.
"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, eyes fixed on his lap, shame flickering to life and filling his body.
"For what?" Gibbs asked, sitting beside him and putting his arm around his waist. Tony gratefully sagged against Gibbs' side and let his head drift down to Gibbs' shoulder, his eyes falling closed.
"I don't know," he said. "I'm so fucking tired. I just…it's all hitting me at once," he said, and his voice cracked again, so he swallowed determinedly. "It's too much," he added, resting his hand on Gibbs' thigh, wanting contact and comfort. He thought maybe it was because he was so tired, but he couldn't stop talking. "'m not used to relying on people," he added, and he liked the way Gibbs arm tightened when he said that.
"Get used to it," Gibbs said, turning his head to press a kiss into Tony's hair.
"I have a headache," Tony said weakly. "And I have a lot of snot in my nose."
Gibbs snorted, and carefully untangled himself from Tony. "Hang on," he said, and disappeared into his bathroom. Tony couldn't bring himself to move, so he sat slumped over on the edge of Gibbs' bed, tangling his fingers into the soft navy blue comforter, trying to keep his eyes open while he waited for Gibbs. It scared him that his legs didn't want to hold him up, and it scared him that he was so dizzy, and it terrified him that he was so emotional because that was something he absolutely hated. And as much as his instincts told him to not take anyone's help, he pushed down the guilt he felt and gratefully took the wad of toilet paper Gibbs held out to him when he emerged from his bathroom, blowing his nose a few times until it felt a little clearer.
Gibbs took the dirty toilet paper without question and tossed it into the little garbage can next to his nightstand, then held out two pills and some water. "Ibuprofen," he said, and Tony gave him a tired smile and took them, wincing when he tilted his head back to drop the pills into his mouth.
"Thanks," he murmured when Gibbs took the cup away from him.
Tony felt ripped open and exposed and embarrassed, and he sighed, rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling that clung to them. He thought of how great the day had been up until dinner, and he wondered how the hell he'd gone from just a little tired but happy to exhausted and miserable and dizzy and weak in just a few hours.
"Guess it was a long day," Gibbs said, sitting next to him once more.
"Yeah," Tony said, trying to toe off his sneakers and frowning when they didn't want to budge. He sighed and exerted what felt like mountains of energy to get them off his feet, kicking them out of the way when he was done and flopping back onto Gibbs' bed.
"Don't think I've ever been in your room," Tony mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Never had a reason to, I guess," Gibbs said. Tony felt the bed shift beside him, and then Gibbs was lying on his side next to him, head propped up by his hand. "Let's get you in bed," he said, reaching out and resting his free hand on Tony's stomach. Tony shivered pleasantly at the touch. "Not just laying across the top."
"Don't know if I have the energy to move," Tony admitted. "Maybe I can just sleep like this."
"No," Gibbs said, "c'mon." He tugged on Tony's shirt a little bit, and Tony cracked his eyes open and looked at him tiredly.
"You really gonna make me move, Boss?" he asked.
"Yup," Gibbs said, twisting around to put his hands under Tony's armpits and pull him up to sitting.
Tony put his hands on his head and grimaced as dizziness swept over him, and he was grateful when Gibbs stood in front of him because rather than letting the man help him stand up, he leaned forward and pressed his head against Gibbs' stomach, closing his eyes and letting his arms circle around Gibbs' legs.
"I'll sleep here," Tony said. "Okay?"
Gibbs didn't say anything, just stepped closer, letting Tony press his torso against him as he ran the fingers of one hand through Tony's hair and the other up and down his back.
"Head still hurt?" Gibbs asked, his voice softer than usual.
"Like a bitch," Tony murmured, sighing against the soft cotton of Gibbs' t-shirt, trying to focus on the sensations from Gibbs' hands rather than the feeling behind his eyes.
Gibbs put his hands on Tony's shoulders and gently pried him away, and Tony looked at him, disgruntled, and frowned.
"What do you want to sleep in?" Gibbs asked. "I'll get it."
"It's okay," Tony said around a yawn. "I'll just wear my boxers and my shirt."
"Can you stand up?" Gibbs asked, looking at him assessingly.
"Yeah," Tony said, but he didn't make any effort to move, only sat slumped on the edge of the bed, gripping the comforter.
"C'mon," Gibbs said, reaching out towards him. Tony sighed and pushed himself up enough to push his pants down, then sat back down and did his best to kick them off, grunting when they got tangled around his ankles. Gibbs rolled his eyes and pulled them off for him, and after the cathartic evening he'd had, Tony couldn't bring himself to be any more embarrassed than he already was. He let his eyes drift closed and he heard Gibbs moving around, opening and closing a drawer and rustling some clothes.
Tony hated the way he felt; he was exhausted and dizzy and he had a serious headache, but above all, he felt drained in a way that only came after crying, and even through his exhaustion, he felt a determination to not break down like that again because it left him feeling terrible.
Soon Gibbs was in front of him, hands on his arms again, and Tony accepted his help with a sigh and let him guide him back up to standing, and when Gibbs let go of him to pull back his bedsheets, Tony was relieved to lie down between them, the soft tan sheets warm and comfortable. Gibbs went around to the other side of the bed and slid in beside him, automatically reaching out for him. Tony rolled over and curled up against Gibbs' side, tangling their legs together and throwing an arm over his waist, nestling his head into Gibbs' chest as Gibbs held onto him tightly, and Tony breathed a sigh of contentment despite the fear that still tried to cling to him, and he couldn't help but think that maybe he could get through this terrifying disease if he had Gibbs to hold onto him like this at night, because even his embarrassment was beginning to pale in comparison to the vibrant warmth he felt lying so close to Gibbs.
"Goodnight, Tony," Gibbs said after reaching over and switching off his lamp, and Tony sighed and pressed closer when he felt the rumble of his chest as Gibbs spoke.
"G'night," Tony mumbled, relaxing into Gibbs' body. He was so tired that he was sleeping before he could even register the soft kiss pressed into his hair and the hands tightening imperceptibly on his back.
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.