After four days at home, doing his best not to crawl out of his own skin, Tony was more than ready to go back to work. And so, Monday morning found him sitting beside Gibbs in the car, cane shoved into the backseat, as they pulled into the NCIS parking garage.
"You're sure about this?" Gibbs asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Yes," Tony said, leaving no room for argument.
Gibbs nodded, looking him over carefully as he turned his car off. "You start feeling-"
"I know," Tony interrupted. "I feel bad for one second and I tell you and take a break."
Gibbs sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You sure you have-"
"Yes," Tony said. "I have all of my pills in my backpack, along with extra bottles of water. My cane is in the backseat. I'll bring it inside with me. I'll use it. I know where there are HazMat suits if I need one of those, too. Think I'll need flame retardant gloves?"
"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned, glaring at him.
"Gibbs, we've been over this a million times. I'm ready," Tony said. He couldn't help but think that Gibbs was more worried about his return than he was.
"It's gonna be different," Gibbs said. "You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I think I got that part when the Director told me I'm on modified desk duty," Tony said, thinking not-too-fondly of the phone conversation he'd had with the director over the weekend. Director Vance had been sympathetic and professional, and Tony really couldn't hope for much more than that - but the whole conversation was yet one more thing that served to make the entire situation a little more real. And now, sitting in the parking lot with Gibbs, about to go inside with a cane and sit behind a desk - well, that was about as real as things would get.
"That's not the only thing that's gonna be different," Gibbs said, looking at him carefully. "You know we can't act like anything's changed between us because at work, it hasn't."
Tony nodded, face determined. "I know, Boss," he said. Their jobs were too important to both of them to let whatever was going on between them get in the way, because even though Tony had just spent four blissful albeit boring and tiring and strange days at home with Gibbs, it didn't mean he thought they would go into work and start making out in the bull pen. It just didn't work that way.
"Let's go," Gibbs said as he unhooked his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Tony followed suit, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and grabbing his cane out of the backseat.
"You know, I'm really doing well today," Tony said. "I don't think I need this-"
Gibbs glared at him, effectively cutting off his train of thought, and Tony gave a weak smile and resigned himself to using the cane. "Right, Boss. I'll just shut up and use this stupid thing," he said. He wasn't lying when he told Gibbs he was doing well; the doctor had said he'd have good days and bad days, and this was definitely a good day. His dizziness was minimal, he didn't feel like he was about to collapse, and he had no trace of a headache. Gibbs, however, seemed to think that he should use the cane anyway, just in case. Tony wasn't willing to let the excitement of returning to work get ruined by an argument, so he just agreed with Gibbs and used the cane.
"Hey, Tony, long time no see!"
Tony grinned at the guard as they went through the metal detectors on their way into the building. "Hey, Paul," he said. "You need to take this separately?" he asked, waving his cane in front of him.
"Yeah, probably should, if you can manage without it," Paul said. "You get hurt?" he asked, taking the cane from Tony as he walked through the detectors without it.
"Nah," Tony said. "Just a new addition," he added with a shrug, ignoring the way Gibbs watched the interaction as he took the cane back from Paul with a nod. He hoped that Gibbs noticed how he walked through the metal detector with ease and not a hint of wobbling.
"We'll have to catch up later, man," Paul said, giving him a wave as Tony followed Gibbs down the hallway towards the elevators. Tony felt a little self-conscious to be walking around with a cane, and was surprised to see that more people weren't staring at him. After all, most people at NCIS knew him - whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he had yet to determine since many of those who "knew him" were disgruntled females - but he wasn't sure how much people knew about what was going on with him, and he was no stranger to office gossip.
But then, he turned and glanced at Gibbs, and managed to school his expression before he earned himself a headslap by laughing. Gibbs was scowling threateningly at everyone who looked like they even thought about glancing in their direction, and Tony was relieved when he entered the elevator alone with Gibbs.
"You don't have to growl and scare everyone off," Tony said once the doors closed.
"I don't growl," Gibbs said, and his voice was so low and threatening that Tony tilted his head to the side with a skeptical frown and a thoughtful shrug of his shoulders.
"Well," he said, "I'm pretty sure you just did."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and gave Tony a look of warning as the elevator doors dinged open on the floor of the bullpen. The overabundance of both the color orange and impersonal cubicles was strangely comforting to Tony, and he felt a grin stretch across his face as he followed Gibbs out of the elevator towards his desk. He smiled at the few agents who waved at him on his way; he always knew Rayburn was a brave man, and he'd just proved it by waving at Tony despite the threatening glare Gibbs sent his way.
"Tony!"
Routines were a comforting thing, and Tony smiled as Abby bounded over to him, just as he'd expected, knocking his cane aside in the process and grabbing him in a tight hug as soon as he stood next to his desk.
"Hey Abs," Tony said, squeezing her tight and ignoring the way her hair tickled his nostril.
"I'm so glad you're back!" Abby said as she pulled away from him, and Tony tweaked a pigtail as he tossed his backpack behind his desk.
"Forgetting something, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said with a dangerously edgy voice as he held Tony's cane out in front of him.
"Oh, right," Tony said. "How could I forget that shining beauty?"
Gibbs narrowed his eyes and pushed the cane closer, and Tony sighed and took it from him with an obviously faked smile. When Gibbs reached out and smacked the back of his head, Tony couldn't help but grin, especially when Abby smacked Gibbs' arm in retaliation.
"Be gentle with him, Gibbs!" Abby said.
Gibbs gave Abby a look of disbelief and shook his head before retreating to his desk as McGee came rushing in with a tray of coffee, yet another common everyday workplace occurrence that felt more comforting and reassuring than Tony could have imagined.
"Hey, Tony," McGee said. He sounded preoccupied, and he absently held out a cup to Tony as he made his way to his desk.
"Hey, Probie," Tony said, taking the cup from him. "Don't sound too excited for my triumphant return or anything."
McGee spared him a moment's glance before turning back to his computer. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Welcome back." He furrowed his brow and stared at his computer with interest, and Tony did his best not to look like he expected more attention.
"McGee's computer is acting up," Abby said in a stage whisper. "It's his biggest crisis since….well, I don't know when, but he's kind of freaking out."
"Like that time with the-"
"Worse," Abby said, grinning when McGee looked up in annoyance.
"That time with the what?" McGee asked.
"If you don't know, well, it's not our place to tell you, Probie," Tony said haughtily, making his way to his desk chair just as Ziva entered the bullpen.
"Gibbs," she said, "I just saw the director on my way inside the building and he wishes to see you."
"Couldn't tell me himself?" Gibbs asked grumpily, clutching his coffee as he stood up, pausing to give Tony a critical once-over before nodding and making his way up the stairs.
"This is a nice touch," Tony said to Abby, gesturing towards the red and black "Welcome Back" sign Abby had taped to the front of his computer.
"I knew you would love it!" Abby said happily. "Open your desk drawer!"
As Tony reached for his top drawer, Ziva crossed over to his desk and looked on in interest.
"Should I be scared?" Tony asked, hand resting on the handle.
Ziva laughed. "Perhaps Abby's surprise will make you wish you used more time to rest before your return," she said.
"Ziva!" Abby protested. "Tony will love it!"
"Got it!" McGee interrupted, staring at his computer screen triumphantly. Tony spared him an annoyed glance, and then turned back to his desk. He looked at Abby, then at the drawer, then at Abby again, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Come on, Tony!" she said.
Tony grinned and tugged the drawer open, knowing that with Abby behind this, the contents could very well be anything.
"Chocolate!" Tony exclaimed. "And…and skulls?"
"They're candy skulls!" Abby said. "They're really good! Well, I mean, not those little ones, because those are confetti - I had them all over everything after I put them in your drawer…maybe that wasn't such a good idea, because now they'll probably be all over your things…" she paused for a moment, looking regretful as she peered at the tiny red and black confetti skulls in Tony's drawer, glittering amongst the truffles and miniature chocolate bars and candy skulls she had filled it with, but then she brightened. "But the candy skulls are great!"
"Thanks, Abs," Tony said, grinning at her and pushing his drawer closed, brushing a tiny stray red skull off his hand. "Those'll come in handy."
"Of course!" Abby said. "And don't forget to share! But maybe not with McGee; he's really been grouchy this morning."
"You would have been, too, if your-"
"McGee," Tony said, "Spare us the geek speak."
McGee harrumphed and turned back to his computer.
"Tony, it is good to have you back," Ziva said with a smile.
"You better not just be saying that for my skulls," Tony warned.
"For your what?" Gibbs interrupted. Tony wasn't even surprised at how easily he'd snuck up on them; he was used to Gibbs materializing out of nowhere. It was just something about Gibbs that wasn't worth questioning.
"My skulls," Tony said. "See?" He pulled his drawer open to show Gibbs, and Gibbs just shook his head and made his way back to his desk.
"Don't you people have work to do, or do you just come to the Navy Yard to socialize?" Gibbs asked as he turned to his computer.
Abby giggled. "That's my cue to leave. Come visit me, Tony!" she said as she made her way to the elevator.
Tony grinned as he opened his inbox, not even sparing a grimace for the 197 emails he had waiting for him. It was good to be back.
--
"We got a dead Marine," Gibbs said, hanging up his phone and glancing at the team. Ziva and McGee instantly shot out of their seats, holstered their guns, and clipped on their badges.
"Gas the truck," Gibbs said, tossing the keys at McGee.
"On it, Boss," McGee said.
Tony watched, feeling unsure about what to do. Gibbs and the Director had decided, after having a long discussion with Tony's doctor, that they would "play it by ear" when the team got cases. If Tony was having a "good day," as determined by Gibbs and Tony, he could accompany the team to a secure crime scene. If he was having a "bad day," however, he would stay at NCIS. Either way, a weapon was no longer an option because of how inaccurate a shot he would be if his balance wasn't quite right or his eyesight faltered, something that Tony did his best not to think about.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, standing over his desk and looking at him critically. "You take your meds?"
"Yes," Tony said, doing his best not to glare. "Of course I did!"
Gibbs looked torn for a moment, and Tony sat up a little straighter and tried to look as serious and determined as possible.
"Fine," Gibbs said. "Grab your gear."
Tony grinned and instinctively went for the drawer where his gun would be, but then frowned, pulling his hand back and grabbing his jacket and backpack instead, swinging them on and grabbing his cane when Gibbs looked at it pointedly.
He grinned the whole way to the elevator, even when Gibbs glared at him for carrying his cane alongside him rather than using it to help him walk, studiously not thinking about the lack of a holster on his hip.
--
Forty-five minutes into their crime scene evaluation, Tony's grin was beginning to falter. Gibbs was having him take pictures, but Ziva was also taking pictures while McGee bagged and tagged, and Gibbs kept watching him like he expected him to keel over and join the dead petty officer on the floor any second. He'd left his cane outside the door of the apartment because it could interfere with evidence, and he just knew that it was killing Gibbs that he wasn't using it, but he was doing just fine. It was easier to leave it outside than it was to worry about everywhere he set it down, anyway.
The team seemed to have settled into a routine that did not involve Tony. The work was easily split between Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee, and Tony couldn't help but wonder if they needed him at all, or if they were just sort of humoring the diseased guy. He frowned as he continued doing his job, hoping the ache building in his shoulders would go away soon.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs suddenly said, and Tony looked up from where he was taking pictures of the dead Marine's personal effects on his nightstand.
"With me," Gibbs said.
"On it, Boss," Tony said, shrugging his camera off and putting it with the team's gear before following Gibbs out the door of the apartment, grabbing his cane on the way out.
The dead petty officer, Jay Wilson, lived in an old apartment building in Georgetown. Tony had passed by the building several times before and wondered what it was like on the inside; it was an old brick building, but the trim around the windows and doorway was painted with peeling yellow paint, and Tony always thought it was rather strange. The inside of the building didn't disappoint; every door was painted a different color, and the tenants seemed to consist of mostly peculiar artistic types. Wilson was no exception, and it was strange to see Gibbs standing next to a bright lime green door, the color reflecting oddly on Gibbs' skin.
"Doin' okay?" Gibbs asked once they were in the hallway.
"Yeah," Tony said. "I'm fine."
Gibbs looked annoyed. "Fine?" he asked.
"Yeah," Tony said.
"DiNozzo, you need to tell me exactly how you feel if you're going to come to crime scenes," Gibbs said.
Tony bit his lip and felt his heart clench at the obvious worry in Gibbs' tone, and he suddenly realized that he had become both a distraction and a burden. He wondered if that was why Gibbs made Rule 12; was he jeopardizing Gibbs' focus? It could be because it was only his first day back, but it didn't sit right with him for Gibbs to be taking him out in the hall to ask him how he felt.
"Tony," Gibbs said, voice a little softer this time. "We need you here, part of the team. But you need to be honest."
"I really am fine," Tony said. "My shoulders are stiff. That's really it."
Gibbs looked at him critically. "You tired?" he asked.
"A little," Tony said with a shrug. "But it's that time of day, isn't it?"
"It's eleven AM," Gibbs said.
"Yeah," Tony said. "That time before lunch when you get tired and hungry."
"You hungry?" Gibbs asked.
"Not particularly," Tony said with a shrug.
Gibbs sighed. "Tony-"
"I'd tell you if I couldn't handle this," Tony interrupted. "So quit staring at me and let me do my job, okay?"
Gibbs glared at him. "If I see you so much as twitch wrong, I'm sending you back."
Tony nodded. "Got it, Boss," he said.
Gibbs gave him one last assessing, skeptical look before gesturing towards the apartment door. "Go on," he said in resignation, and Tony smiled at him and went back in, leaving his cane outside again.
"Ah, Tony," Ducky said, looking up from the body on the floor as Tony crossed the threshold. "Could you hand me a bag, please? Mr. Palmer has returned to the truck for a moment and I don't want to drop this," he said, holding up a few strands of hair in a pair of tweezers. "They were lying across Mr. Wilson's cheek, and do not appear to be his, unless he is growing long blond hair somewhere on his person that we cannot see."
Tony grabbed a bag and dutifully held it open in front of Ducky, who dropped the hairs inside. "Thank you, Tony," he said. "I do appreciate it. And I'm not sure I've told you this, but I'm so glad to have you back with us."
"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said, grabbing his camera from the corner where he'd left it. "It's good to be back."
"I bet," Ducky said. "And you seem to be doing quite well on top of that."
Tony shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, fiddling with the lens on his camera for a moment, trying to focus on how lucky he was to be back at work at a crime scene, and not on the absence of a gun at his hip, or how he was not allowed to go to a suspect's house to interview them, or how as soon as he got back to NCIS, he'd be behind his desk again, or how Gibbs felt the need to take him into the hall after staring at him all morning just to make sure he was doing okay.
The rest of their time at the crime scene went by fairly quickly, and Tony made jokes when they seemed appropriate and sometimes when they didn't, and smiled when he was meant to and took all the right pictures. But when Gibbs came by and told him they were going back to base to get some phone records and financials, he was surprised to feel relieved.
Part of it was because of the stiffness in his shoulders that hadn't receded, and the general fatigue that had started to settle over him, but an even bigger part of it was due to the strange not-quite-right feeling about working a crime scene with no gun. It seemed like such a small thing to be worried about, but to Tony, it was huge. He'd been carrying a gun at work for nearly fifteen years, and the sudden absence of it made him feel even more vulnerable than he already did. And on top of that, he felt like he wasn't needed, and it was such a strange and unusual reaction that rather than feeling annoyed to be taken back to his desk, he dropped into the passenger seat of Gibbs' car with a thankful sigh, watching the cracked yellow paint on the building fade into the distance as Gibbs sped away.
"You need a break when we get back?" Gibbs asked, eyes on the road straight ahead.
Tony turned to look at him, taking in the little wrinkles around his eyes and the creases on his forehead. He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes of moisture that came up so suddenly and unexpectedly that he almost - almost - didn't get a handle on it fast enough. "Maybe," Tony said, surprised at how gruff his voice was.
Gibbs spared him a quick but attentive glance before turning back to the road. "Maybe?" Gibbs asked.
Tony shrugged, even though he knew Gibbs couldn't see him. He couldn't stop staring at him, at his shoulders, his hands, his hair, his fucking ears - because even though it was something he'd known on an intellectual level for years, it was suddenly really hitting him just how important Gibbs was to him, how Gibbs had helped him re-define himself when he moved to DC, how Gibbs had made him want to do his best and be a damn good federal agent, just like him, how Gibbs had taken care of him along the way, how Gibbs held him up when he wasn't sure he could do it for himself-
"Something on my face, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, interrupting Tony's ruminations. He sounded annoyed, and Tony felt a small smile cross his face before he turned back to the road in front of them.
"No," Tony said, "you're good." He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting the early afternoon sun warm his face as Gibbs sped down the road.
--
By the end of the day, Tony had slept for a couple hours on Abby's couch, and he was relying more on his cane than he would've liked to admit. He had found some good patterns in the dead petty officer's phone records that helped lead the team to their prime suspect, and that had helped him feel a little less like an unnecessary extra guy following everyone around.
The rest of the team was out nabbing the suspect, and Tony was left behind, covering a yawn with his hand and absently clicking through a solitaire game on his computer. That was okay with him, though, because he was pretty tired, even after taking a nap, and it was approaching 1900 hours and he still hadn't eaten dinner; he was beginning to be seriously grateful for the candy Abby had left in his drawer.
He hated to admit it, but sitting at work all day was vastly different than sitting on a couch all day. While he was having a good day as far as his symptoms went, he'd done much more in just that day than he'd done in almost a week, and he didn't know how he would've managed if it had been a bad day. Already, he was beginning to feel the familiar "bad day" feelings - his dizziness was starting to come back, and he felt a general weariness that he couldn't really blame on a busy day.
He jumped in surprise and looked around in confusion when a bag was dropped on his desk.
"Eat."
"Thanks, Boss," Tony said, watching as Gibbs ignored his response and stalked over to his desk. He saw Ziva and McGee manhandling a tall, thin man towards the interrogation rooms, and noticed that Gibbs had three bags sitting on his desk; he must have dinner for the whole team.
"You get Johnston?" Tony asked, opening his bag and pulling out a grinder wrapped in white paper.
"Yeah," Gibbs said shortly, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before opening the bag with his dinner inside.
Tony wanted to ask more, to find out exactly what went down when they went to get him, find out if he'd put up a struggle, if he'd been where they thought he would be - but Gibbs seemed unusually closed off, and he didn't want to push things, so he ate his dinner quietly, watching as Ziva and McGee came back, taking their own bags to their desk.
"Tony, you would have enjoyed Johnston's house," Ziva said. "He had a Mustang, a Ferrari, and a Maserati Quattroporte in his three car garage."
"Really?" Tony asked, leaning forward in excitement. "What color were they? Did you get pictures of-"
"We didn't need pictures of the cars," Gibbs interrupted, his voice cold. "Wasn't relevant."
Tony frowned, wondering if he was being extra sensitive due to his fatigue, or if Gibbs seemed to be a little snappier with him than usual.
Ziva looked at Gibbs, then back at Tony. "The Maserati was black," she said after a moment, "and the other two were red."
"Typical," Tony said, doing his best not to watch Gibbs and see what kind of expression was on his face. He ate a few more bites of his sandwich and wrapped it back up in the paper before shoving it back in the bag; he wasn't really hungry anymore.
"You done, Tony?" McGee asked, glancing up from his computer. He looked worried, and so did Ziva. Gibbs, however, wasn't looking in his direction, and Tony frowned.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm not hungry. I'm gonna hit the head."
Tony pushed himself up from his desk, grabbing onto his cane when his head swam in dizziness. He wasn't so sure this day was falling into "good day" territory anymore, and he made his way to the bathroom a little slower than he would've liked. He wasn't sure why Gibbs was acting so distant. He knew that things would be different at work, but he didn't think it meant he would be ignored and dismissed and left out of important details of the case. He took care of his needs in the bathroom, and wasn't really surprised when the door swung open as he was washing his hands and Ziva entered.
"Are you sure you're all woman?" Tony asked. "Because you seem to spend an awful lot of time in the men's room."
"Of that, I am quite sure," Ziva said, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning against the bathroom counter. She pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and handed it to Tony, who took it with a nod of thanks and dried his hands off.
"What are you doing here?" Tony asked, crushing his paper towel into a ball and tossing it into the garbage can.
"I wanted to see if you are doing alright," she said.
"I'm fine," Tony said.
"You seem to be leaning much more heavily on your cane than you were this morning," Ziva remarked.
"Yeah," Tony replied with a shrug. "It's been a long day. Do you really need to follow me into the head to ask me how I am?"
Ziva hesitated a moment, and then seemed to choose her words carefully. "Did something happen between you and Gibbs?"
"Huh?" Tony said, caught off guard by her question and wondering what exactly she meant; did she somehow know about their relationship?
"He has been very supportive of you this whole time," Ziva said, "and yet, today, he is acting rather strangely towards you, do you not think so?"
Tony felt his shoulders sag in relief. "Oh," he said, "yeah. You know Gibbs. He's grouchy a lot."
"Did you do something to annoy him?"
"No," Tony said, "but he'll probably be really annoyed at both of us if we don't get back out there soon."
"You are correct," Ziva said, "but Tony, if he is really that difficult to live with and you need a break from him, you may call me at any time."
Tony was caught off guard by the earnestness in her expression and the sincerity of her voice. "Thanks, Ziva," he said, and he meant it. "That's really nice of you."
"Do not tell anyone," Ziva warned, "or it will ruin my reputation."
Tony laughed. "You got it," he said. Ziva smirked at him and opened the door, and he made his way through and did his best not to walk too slowly as they went back to the bullpen. He couldn't help but wonder and worry about why Gibbs was acting so cold. Ziva was more observant than most people, but knowing that she noticed it, too, made him quite aware that he wasn't imagining Gibbs' attitude; it was real. He frowned as he sat behind his desk, leaving his cane close by so that he could grab it again if he had to stand up.
"If you two are done," Gibbs said, causing Tony to turn his head and look at him quizzically, "we've got an interrogation to do." He was looking between Tony and Ziva angrily, and Tony had to squash down the urge to ask him what the hell his problem was, and instead, nod at him and try to work up the strength to stand again.
One thing Tony noticed about his disease was that when he started feeling tired, he was tired. When he started feeling weak, he was weak. There was no in between. He sighed as he stood back up, bracing himself heavily against his desk, ignoring Gibbs' eyes on him because he wasn't quite sure he could take whatever was lurking in them.
"Can you handle this, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, and something about his tone was just off. He didn't sound friendly, or worried, but instead, cold and accusatory and annoyed, and Tony glared at him.
"I don't know, Boss," he spat, ignoring the way his hand shook in its grip on his cane. He had no idea what the hell was going on with Gibbs, but he didn't like it, and he knew from the way McGee and Ziva were standing nearby looking awkwardly between the two of them that they didn't like it, either.
He mentally scanned through the day's events, trying desperately to think of something he'd done, but he was coming up empty, and he looked at Gibbs in angry confusion, but Gibbs merely stared back, and just when Tony thought he might've seen something in his eyes soften, Gibbs turned on his heel and headed towards the interrogation rooms.
"Hurry up," Gibbs called impatiently over his shoulder.
"Are you okay, Tony?" McGee asked once Gibbs was out of sight.
"Yeah," Tony said. "I'm fine. Let's go." He headed towards interrogation, his mind swimming in circles; this was not right. He couldn't figure out what he'd done to make Gibbs act like this, and he was having trouble reconciling the Gibbs he saw at home with this Gibbs at work, especially because while Gibbs was oftentimes a bastard, it was usually not this bad, not unless they were dealing with a really extreme case, and they weren't.
"You two don't have to walk with me," Tony said to Ziva and McGee, who were walking on either side of him. "I know I'm slow."
"It is alright, Tony," Ziva said. "Sometimes it is nice not to rush around, no?"
Tony managed a weak smile, but he could feel all of his frustration boiling to the surface nonetheless and he knew that he was dangerously close to losing his temper.
When they got to the interrogation viewing room, Ziva held the door for him and McGee pulled out a chair.
"Do I really seem that pathetic?" Tony asked, dropping into the chair eagerly.
"No more than usual," Ziva said with a wink, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. Tony managed a laugh at the levity Ziva's teasing brought, and McGee pulled out a chair and sat alongside him.
Gibbs was prowling around their suspect angrily, slamming his hands down on the table and yelling in his face. Tony frowned; Gibbs was like a wildcat. Something was up, and Tony wanted to know what it was.
"Do you know why he's being like this?" Tony finally asked, not daring to take his eyes off of Gibbs.
"I thought maybe you did something to piss him off," McGee said.
"Why me?" Tony asked, offended enough to look at McGee in annoyance.
"Well, he usually only gets this worked up when it's you," McGee reasoned with a shrug.
Tony frowned and narrowed his eyes, turning back to Gibbs as his brain continued to process his day.
"I can't think of anything," Tony finally admitted. "It's like all of the sudden, he's just pissed."
"I am not quite sure when it started," Ziva said. "He was more impatient than usual while we were out this evening to get Johnston, but now he seems much worse."
Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "You think we'll be here a lot longer?" he asked, eager to go home because he was tired, but dreading it at the same time because Gibbs was acting so strangely.
"I do not know," Ziva said. She sounded sympathetic, and Tony frowned, holding his cane in front of him and resting his hands on top before leaning forward and placing his chin on top of his folded hands. He watched Gibbs thoughtfully, not bothering to pay attention to the interrogation, but trying to figure out what was going on with Gibbs instead.
Tony could feel a headache forming behind his eyes, but he ignored it and kept watching Gibbs, doing his best to focus but feeling his mind slip away nonetheless. He felt strangely alone, and he wanted Gibbs to come reassure him, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He looked up in surprise when he heard the door to interrogation slam.
"And we got a confession," McGee said. "Thank God. Maybe we'll get to go home sometime soon."
Tony frowned; he'd been that zoned out that he'd missed it?
The door to the viewing room swung open, and Gibbs stood in the doorway, staring at Tony with an unreadable expression on his face.
"DiNozzo," he said, his voice deadly calm. "With me."
Tony was startled, and he staggered upwards, thankful when Ziva reached out and steadied him. Gibbs was watching him with a strangely blank expression on his face, and Tony made his way over to him self-consciously, being careful not to brush against him as he walked past him through the open door.
"We're going home," Gibbs said.
"We are?" Tony asked nervously. "Don't we have paper-"
"We'll do it tomorrow," Gibbs snapped, and Tony hobbled down the hall towards the bullpen. Gibbs went ahead and grabbed Tony's backpack and leftover dinner for him, and stopped at his own desk, and by the time Tony caught up, he was ready.
"Let's go," Gibbs said, heading towards the elevator and holding it open. Tony spared a nervous look at Ziva and McGee before heading in behind Gibbs.
Once in the elevator, Gibbs seemed to deflate. His shoulders drooped and he ran a hand over his face and looked everywhere but Tony.
"Gibbs?" Tony said cautiously, still annoyed that the man had been treating him so coldly, but worried and curious at the same time.
"Not here," Gibbs said shortly, stalking out of the elevator quickly as soon as it stopped on the level of the parking garage. Tony frowned and followed behind him, doing his best to keep up but failing.
"Wait right here," Gibbs said, stopping short and turning around.
"Okay," Tony said in confusion. He stayed where he was and watched with a furrowed brow as Gibbs jogged towards his car, got in, and sped around to pick Tony up.
Tony opened the door and hesitantly slid into the passenger seat, holding his cane up front with him as he closed the door. As soon as his seatbelt was buckled, Gibbs was driving away, and Tony swallowed nervously.
But then, he frowned, thinking of how unreasonable Gibbs was being, and he turned to him angrily, irritation easily overriding his concern.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Tony said, words coming out in a rush. "I know it can't be the same at work, but that doesn't mean you have to treat me like shit when I didn't do anything wrong!"
Gibbs didn't say anything, just stared straight ahead as he drove, his narrowed eyes focused on the road ahead of him.
"Aren't you gonna say anything?" Tony pressed, unsure if it was his medicine making him react like this or genuine frustration. "You're just gonna sit there and not say a fucking word? Why can't you just act like a normal fucking person for once in your life and-"
"Tony," Gibbs interrupted, and his voice was so quiet and so desperate that Tony immediately stopped ranting. Gibbs was still staring straight ahead, but something about his posture had changed, and his eyes seemed a little less Marine and a whole lot more desperate, and his hands were gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, and Tony frowned. Gibbs was worrying him, but he still felt angry, and he couldn't stop himself from continuing.
"You know, you can't just do shit like this all the time," Tony warned. "Whatever's going on, you can't just take it out on me." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, turning to look out his window. He was tired, but he was all keyed up and angry at the same time, and he felt uncomfortably jittery.
When Gibbs didn't reply, Tony turned back to look at him, and he was alarmed to see Gibbs biting his lip as he drove, the expression on his face one Tony couldn't place. His eyes were a little wider than usual, but his brow was furrowed, and he was staring intently at the road.
"Did something happen?" Tony finally asked, still angry but curious more than anything else.
"Tony, just wait until we get home," Gibbs said, still not looking away from the road. He sounded so needy that Tony looked away with a frown, annoyed with himself that most of his anger was ebbing away to be replaced with concern.
The ride back to the house was tense after that, and Tony did his best not to keep staring at Gibbs, but he couldn't help it. He'd known Gibbs for a long time, and he'd never seen him quite like this. Granted, he'd been introduced to many new sides of Gibbs in the past few weeks that he'd never even dreamed could exist, but this was something else entirely. This Gibbs wasn't in control and strong and unbreakable. This Gibbs was something different, and Tony wasn't sure what to make of him, especially because he'd been expecting Gibbs to be there for him, to maybe understand how strange Tony felt without a gun, how strange it was to be back at work knowing that he would never, ever have the same duties he used to, how strange it was to feel like he was on the outside of the team, but Gibbs was acting like a kicked puppy that didn't know whether to hide in the corner or attack, and Tony didn't like it.
When they pulled into the driveway, Tony wearily got out of the car, ignoring the fact that Gibbs was halfway up the walk carrying all of their belongings before Tony even closed his door. He made his way in behind Gibbs, collapsing onto the couch as soon as he got inside, letting his head fall to the back of the couch and closing his eyes.
"Come tell me what your problem is," he called out, too relieved to be back on the couch to open his eyes. He heard Gibbs rustling around, but he couldn't be bothered to care what he was doing.
When he felt the couch dip beside him, he lifted his head up and opened his eyes, turning towards Gibbs expectantly.
He frowned when he saw Gibbs holding out a glass of water and some ibuprofen. "You have a headache?" Gibbs asked. He sounded strangely hesitant.
"Yeah, a little," Tony said, confused by Gibbs' behavior.
"Here," Gibbs said, holding the ibuprofen closer to Tony.
"Thanks," Tony said cautiously, taking the two pills and tossing them into his mouth before taking a sip of water to swallow them with.
"I'm sorry," Gibbs said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, his words uncharacteristically soft and rushed.
Tony tried not to let his shock show, and he carefully set the glass of water Gibbs had given him down on the coffee table.
"I was being an ass," Gibbs continued.
"I thought you had a rule against apologizing," Tony said, examining the nails of his right hand rather than looking at Gibbs.
Gibbs sighed. "I do," he said. "But that doesn't count in situations like these."
"Situations like what?" Tony asked, looking up at him sharply. "You still haven't told me what the fuck your problem is!"
Gibbs didn't say anything for a moment, and Tony could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "I always fuck things up," Gibbs finally said, his shoulders sloping downwards. His eyes were trained on his knees, and Tony watched him in confusion, because that had certainly not been what he'd expected him to say.
"I was really happy you were coming back to work," Gibbs continued. "Really happy. I know I don't say it a lot, but you're the best damn agent I ever worked with." Tony felt his heart begin to beat faster, because this conversation was much more intense than he'd thought it was going to be, and he couldn't quite figure out where Gibbs was going with this. And he hated the way all of his anger was flooding out of him at Gibbs' strange behavior.
"It was really good to have you at a crime scene again," Gibbs said. "But I couldn't stop worrying about you."
"At the crime scene?" Tony interrupted. "It was a secure apartment, and we were the only ones there!"
"I know," Gibbs said, finally turning to look at Tony, and when their eyes met, Tony was taken aback by the remorse in Gibbs' eyes. "I know that," Gibbs repeated. "And I know that you were fine, and doing a damn good job."
"So, explain to me why this made you go all Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," Tony said, trying his best to be patient. It was tough, though, when he had no idea what the hell Gibbs was talking about.
Gibbs looked away from Tony, and his back slumped and he covered his face with a hand. Tony frowned, and despite his earlier anger, he reached out and hesitantly put his hand on Gibbs' knee. "Hey," Tony said. "Will you just tell me what's going on?"
"I took it out on you," Gibbs said miserably.
"Took what out on me?" Tony said.
Gibbs sighed and covered Tony's hand with his. "I told you I always fuck things up. I was worried about you, and it pissed me off," he said.
"Why did it piss you off?" Tony asked, genuinely confused. He was beginning to understand why Gibbs went through so many divorces; this conversation was like pulling teeth.
"I'm supposed to be a bastard," Gibbs said grouchily, and Tony couldn't help it; he laughed.
"What?" he said. "Are you serious? You're pissed because you're afraid people might realize you're not the asshole you want them to think you are?"
"It's not about other people, and it's not just that," Gibbs said defensively, so much so that Tony did his best to stop laughing and listen seriously. "Tony, I don't do things by halves."
"I know that," Tony said patiently.
"You're really important to me," Gibbs said, "more important than anyone's been in a long time."
Tony frowned. "Gibbs-"
"Wait," Gibbs interrupted, squeezing his hand. "You've watched my six for eight years, Tony," Gibbs said. "Eight fucking years. And I've watched yours. And now, it's time for me to really be on your six, and I-I kept looking next to me and you weren't there."
"We both knew I wouldn't be in the field," Tony said softly, frowning, pushing down the irritation he felt that Gibbs was the one freaking out about this and not him.
"I know," Gibbs said, "but I couldn't stop worrying about you."
"Well there's nothing to worry about!" Tony said, annoyed. "I'm a big boy; I can handle myself. Don't you think I should be the one worrying about this? Don't you think it's hard enough for me without you acting like a fucking jerk for no reason?"
"Of course it's hard for you!" Gibbs interrupted. "That's why I was fucking worried about you all day! I know it was hard for you, DiNozzo, and I was making it worse because I'm a goddamn bastard, and if you want to leave, I get it."
Tony blinked and felt a smile creep onto his face.
"Gibbs," he said softly, reaching out and turning Gibbs' face until he was looking at him. "You are such a melodramatic idiot."
"What?" Gibbs said, irritated.
"I'm not going anywhere," Tony said, understanding beginning to flood his mind. "I know we haven't really talked about anything, and mostly, I've let you take the lead, but you-you're really important to me, too." He felt a blush creep up on his neck, and then Gibbs was looking away from him, shaking his head and laughing in an almost bitter manner.
"Jesus," Gibbs said, running a hand through his hair. "Are we really having this conversation?"
"Hey," Tony pointed out, "you started it."
"Yeah, guess I did," Gibbs said. "I don't want to fuck this up, Tony," he repeated.
"Then don't treat me like shit for no reason," Tony said reasonably.
"Yeah," Gibbs said. "I was pissed that I was more worried about you than the case."
"Well, next time you're worried about me, just act like a normal person and come ask me how I am," Tony said. "That usually works better than acting like an asshole."
"I don't do worry very well," Gibbs admitted.
"Yeah, I got that," Tony said, and rather than being intimidated by how seriously Gibbs was taking whatever was forming between them, he felt reassured and strangely protected, even if Gibbs was a fucking idiot when it came to communicating - but that was nothing new to Tony. He edged closer to Gibbs and felt relieved when Gibbs pulled him in for a kiss.
Tony had shared many kisses with Gibbs at that point, but most of them had been gentle and reassuring. Tony hadn't wanted to push them into anything sexual, mostly because Gibbs was too important to him for that, but also because the whole "being with a man" thing was pretty new to him. This time, though, when Gibbs kissed him, he pressed himself as close as he could get and kissed him back eagerly.
Gibbs responded by pushing his tongue into Tony's mouth, running his hands through his hair, and sliding one hand up underneath Tony's shirt. Tony gasped into the kiss when Gibbs' hands slid over his ribs and he arched towards Gibbs when his thumb slid over his nipple.
"Gibbs," Tony murmured breathily against his mouth, "please."
And then Gibbs' mouth left his, and Gibbs was standing up, reaching down and taking Tony's arms and pulling him up alongside him.
"I'm too old for the couch," Gibbs said, holding Tony securely against him and kissing him hard before pulling him towards the stairs. Tony spared a fleeting thought for his cane, but decided Gibbs' body was much more pleasant and aesthetically pleasing and gladly hung onto him instead.
Gibbs took the stairs slowly, pulling Tony flush against him on each step and kissing him thoroughly before pulling him up to the next. By the time they got to the top, Tony was flustered and eager and much more concerned with getting himself as close to Gibbs as humanly possible than he was about how wobbly his legs were or how half of his shirt was unbuttoned, and Gibbs continued to pull him along, kissing him and tugging him down the hall.
When they got into Gibbs' bedroom, Tony was laughing, mostly because of the many times they'd bumped into the wall, and he eagerly laid down on the bed, feeling heady and giddy and turned on, relieved when Gibbs immediately laid on top of him.
"That's better," Gibbs said, his voice husky as he leaned down to kiss Tony, and this time, Tony felt the entire atmosphere change because this was real - they were in Gibbs' bed, lying together, and the way Gibbs was kissing him made him put his hands on Gibbs' hips and pull him down closer because he was harder than he'd been in a long time, and holy shit, Gibbs was hard, too, and the friction he felt as they rubbed together was unbelievable and it made his whole body tingle as he tried to get closer to Gibbs.
Gibbs pulled his mouth away from Tony's and kissed along his jaw line, starting underneath his ear, and Tony gasped and tangled a hand into Gibbs' hair, arching his head back to give Gibbs better access. Gibbs unbuttoned the rest of Tony's shirt as he left a trail of moist kisses along his neck, and Tony sighed, sliding his own hands underneath Gibbs' polo and undershirt and tugging. Gibbs pulled away for a moment and let Tony help him pull his shirt off, grunting when it got caught on his arm and pulling it off impatiently.
Tony leaned up a bit and let Gibbs pull his shirt off, and the second he was lying down on the bed again, shirt landing somewhere inconsequential with a rustle and scritch-scratch of buttons sliding across the hardwood floor, Gibbs leaned down and kissed him, fast and hard and ruthless, and Tony groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping Gibbs' smooth back, arching up against him. The feeling of Gibbs' bare chest against his own was much different than the feeling of a woman, but damn, it was good, mostly because it was Gibbs, and feeling Gibbs' dick, hard against his own, was making his thoughts short circuit until the only thing present in his mind was Gibbs, his skin, his eyes, his lips, his hands - and then those same hands were sliding between them, reaching down and unbuttoning his pants, and Tony eagerly tilted his hips to give him better access. Gibbs pushed his pants down and Tony didn't even feel embarrassed to be lying naked underneath him as he kicked them all the way off, and he eagerly helped Gibbs remove his own pants, and then it was just them, nothing between them, lying together in the cool night air of the bedroom, erections crushing against each other deliciously.
"Gibbs," Tony breathed, marveling at the way the ridge of Gibbs' nose and his cheekbone caught the moonlight coming in the window, and the way his eyes, strangely blue in the calm night air, bore straight into his own. He reached up and tangled a hand into Gibbs' hair, pulling him down for another kiss, and this one was perfect, needy and slow, and Tony ignored the way his hands were shaking as he tugged Gibbs as close as he could get. He gasped when Gibbs thrust his hips down against his own, and when Gibbs broke their kiss to spit into his hand and reach down and wrap his hand securely around his dick, Tony let his head fall backwards and he moaned, heat curling in the pit of his stomach. Gibbs' hand was rough and warm and sure and steady, nothing like his own and definitely nothing like a woman's. It was something entirely different, and Tony felt a whine slide past his lips when that hand left him, but then Gibbs was holding both of their dicks together, hand twisting and tugging and Tony's breath was coming in short gasps because this was too much.
Gibbs' mouth found his again, and Tony moaned breathily when Gibbs nipped at his lower lip, and then Gibbs was kissing him, mouth hot and open and Tony could feel his orgasm coming closer, could feel his legs start to tighten up and his stomach start to clench.
"Gibbs," he panted, breaking their kiss. "Gibbs, I'm g-gonna-"
"Do it," Gibbs said, voice low and breathy, his head drooping and his forehead resting against Tony's, and that was all it took and Tony felt his orgasm rip through him at the same time that Gibbs' own body tensed and shuddered, and as he heard Gibbs groaning on top of him, his whole body felt like it was on fire and suspended in time, and as the last moments of his orgasm slipped away to be replaced with boneless exhaustion he managed to keep a hand in Gibbs' hair, holding him close, amazed at the feeling of Gibbs collapsing on top of him. His heart was pounding and he could feel sticky semen pressed in between their bodies, but he didn't care. Gibbs was breathing heavily right beside his ear, his breath coming out in fast whooshes that rustled over his skin pleasantly.
A few moments passed and neither of them moved, the only sounds filling the strange stillness of the bedroom their fast breaths, the only movement the rapid rise and fall of their chests, and then, all too soon, Gibbs pressed a chaste kiss behind his ear, and Tony sighed in contentment, even as Gibbs shifted away from him.
"Be right back," Gibbs said breathily, and Tony managed a soft, "mmm," in response. As Gibbs disappeared from beside him, Tony frowned, thinking maybe he should open his eyes if only to watch him walk around naked, but it was way too much energy, so he stayed where he was. And then Gibbs was back, pressing a warm washcloth into his skin, cleaning him off, and Tony smiled, forcing his eyes to open so he could watch Gibbs.
Gibbs looked up and caught him staring and grinned before leaning down to kiss him, and then he disappeared again, bringing the washcloth back to the bathroom. When he came back, he'd pulled a pair of boxers and a t-shirt on, and he held some in his hands for Tony.
"C'mon," Gibbs said, "it's getting too cold out to sleep naked."
"You'll keep me warm," Tony said, smiling when Gibbs sat next to him on the edge of the bed and tugged him up until he was sitting. Tony sighed and slumped forward, leaning heavily on Gibbs, resting his head on Gibbs' shoulder.
"You doin' okay?" Gibbs asked, running a hand over Tony's bare back.
Tony laughed, pressing his forehead against Gibbs' neck. "You serious?" Tony replied, circling his arms around Gibbs' waist, all but climbing into his lap. "What do you think?"
Gibbs laughed and pushed Tony off of him, holding the shirt out, and Tony rolled his eyes and wearily pulled it over his head.
"C'mon, get up," Gibbs said, standing up and reaching out for Tony. Tony sighed and let Gibbs pull him upwards, but held onto him tightly once he was standing.
"Gimme a minute," Tony murmured, "I'm kinda wobbly."
"Yeah," Gibbs said, holding him close. "I know."
After a moment, Tony managed to get his boxers on, and Gibbs pulled the covers back, sliding in beside Tony and pulling the blanket securely over them.
"Don't be an idiot tomorrow," Tony murmured, scrounging up just enough energy to roll over and wrap himself around Gibbs, tangling their legs together and wrapping his arms around his waist, nestling his head into Gibbs' chest.
"I won't," Gibbs said. "Just kept looking for you next to me when we were getting Johnston and you weren't there."
"I know," Tony said, turning his head and pressing a kiss into the fabric of Gibbs' t-shirt, right over his heart. He was exhausted and kind of dizzy and he had a bit of a headache, but he felt content lying in bed with Gibbs, still reeling from the sex, and he smiled and let his eyes droop closed.
"G'night," he murmured, voice breathy against Gibbs' chest.
"Goodnight," Gibbs said, craning his head to press a kiss into Tony's hair, keeping a hand on the back of his head.
And as Tony fell asleep, warm and comfortable and boneless from pleasure and exhaustion, he couldn't help but think that even if he never quite got a handle on the disease taking over his body, he could definitely get used to this.
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.