Throughout the many years Tony had spent in his questionable apartment building, he’d only met his landlord a handful of times, and in his opinion, that was a handful too many; the man always smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat, and had a habit of crowding people’s personal space and nudging with his elbows to get his point across. Tony hesitated outside the man’s office for a moment, about to turn to Gibbs and suggest that they leave and do it another day, when Gibbs rolled his eyes and rapped his knuckles sharply against the door, ignoring the annoyed glare that Tony shot him. The door swung open a few moments later, creaking on its hinges, and a balding, overweight man loomed in the doorway, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Hey, Tony, right?” he asked, staring at Tony through beady eyes.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “Hey, Larry.”
“Come on in,” Larry said, opening the door wider and letting the two men inside, glancing curiously at Tony’s cane without saying anything.
“Just came to drop off my keys,” Tony said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key ring with his apartment and mailbox keys on it, holding it out towards the landlord.
“Yeah, gimme one sec and I’ll find your security check,” Larry said. He grabbed the key ring and turned towards a tall, rusty filing cabinet, wrestling with a drawer for a moment before succeeding in yanking it open.
“You didn’t always have that cane, right? You leavin’ because it’s a walk up?” Larry asked, flipping through folders and pushing a few stray papers out of the way as he searched for Tony’s file.
“No,” Tony said, studiously ignoring the overflowing garbage can that was emitting some rather dubious odors next to Larry’s unorganized desk. “Just found somewhere else to go,” he added, acutely aware of Gibbs’ silent presence at his side. He couldn’t help but wonder what Larry thought their relationship was; it was something he wondered whenever he went anywhere with Gibbs. He’d always enjoyed going out with women on his arm, knowing that everyone they passed knew they were together, and he found that he wanted people to cast those envious, knowing looks at him and Gibbs as well.
“We got a few ground-level apartments,” Larry said, effectively interrupting Tony's thought process. Larry paused and pulled an envelope out of a folder, looking up from his perusal of the filing cabinet. “You sure you want this? You could put it towards a new place; we got a new building a few blocks east of here that’s real nice,” he said, waving the envelope.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Tony said. “I already have a new place lined up.”
Larry sighed, reaching behind him to put his cigarette out on the ashtray on his desk. “Figures,” he said. “All the good tenants are leavin’ at once. You’re not going to that new building across the-”
“He’s moving in with me,” Gibbs interrupted, any patience he might’ve had when he told Tony he’d go with him already flying out the window.
Before Larry could cut in, Tony realized that maybe he should’ve introduced the two of them sooner. “Larry, this is-” He faltered for a moment, unsure of exactly what to call Gibbs. Normal people didn’t refer to others by their last names, he knew, but he’d never really called Gibbs ‘Jethro’ before, even if they were living together. Before he could think of the right answer, Gibbs interrupted.
“Jethro,” he said, not bothering to put his hand out for Larry to shake. Tony looked at him in surprise, as he always did when Gibbs referred to himself by first name. And then, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of fat old Larry, because Larry got to call Gibbs Jethro, and he scowled.
“Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Jethro,” Larry said rather ineloquently, looking between the two of them in confusion. “Anyway,” he said after a pause, turning back to Tony, “here’s your check. Wrote it out yesterday.”
“Thanks,” Tony said, grabbing the envelope. “Take it easy, Larry,” he said. He made his way towards the door as Larry reached for another cigarette.
“Yeah, you too,” Larry called, and once they closed the office door and left the building, also owned by Larry’s company but a few blocks away from Tony’s old apartment complex, Tony breathed in the fresh air eagerly.
“His office is disgusting,” Tony commented, easily keeping up with Gibbs as they walked to the car, leaning only a little bit on his cane.
Gibbs grunted his agreement, unlocking Tony’s door before heading around to his own. Tony climbed into the car and waited for Gibbs, thinking that it was a rather anticlimactic moment. He’d expected something more exciting; a feeling of liberation, maybe, knowing that the time in his run-down old apartment was officially over and his time with Gibbs was officially beginning, but he just felt vague irritation at the smell of cigarette smoke that still seemed to cling to him.
He’d packed his belongings and moved everything to Gibbs’ house a couple weeks earlier, anyway (well, Gibbs had, and Tony had made supportive comments from the couch - it wasn’t his fault his legs had decided to be extra weak that day), so it really wasn’t like it was a monumental occasion or anything, and he turned to Gibbs with a smile as Gibbs pulled away from the curb.
“Charming guy, huh? I think I’ll miss him,” Tony said, grinning when the corner of Gibbs’ lips turned upwards in amusement.
“You wanna go back and see if he’s got a room in his apartment for you?” Gibbs asked, glancing away from the road for a moment to raise an eyebrow at Tony.
“That’s okay, Boss,” Tony replied.
“You know,” Gibbs said, “you can call me Jethro.”
Tony’s brows shot up in surprise. “Um,” he replied. “Really?”
Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Tony,” he said. “We live together. We sleep together. If I told your landlord he can call me Jethro, don’t you think it’s okay for you, too?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Tony replied, frowning thoughtfully. “I never really imagined calling you Jethro.”
“Did you think you’d call me ‘Boss’ forever?” Gibbs said, sparing him an amused glance.
“I call you Gibbs, too!” Tony protested.
“Yeah,” Gibbs said. “You do. I call you DiNozzo sometimes, too.”
“Usually when you’re ordering me around,” Tony complained.
“Yeah,” Gibbs replied. “Exactly.”
“Oh,” Tony said a moment later, beginning to understand Gibbs’ point. “So you want me to call you Jethro?”
“It’d be nice,” Gibbs said with a shrug, and Tony knew from the deceptively casual tone of his voice that Gibbs really wanted him to call him Jethro; if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, let alone talk about it for more than a sentence.
“Jethro,” Tony said thoughtfully. “I guess I can do that. I always think of you as Gibbs in my head.”
“Well, don’t,” Gibbs said, and Tony quirked a smile.
“Okay, Jethro,” he teased, but he couldn’t help but grin at the idea of calling Gibbs by his first name, even though it really was rather odd he hadn’t done it before then.
“Call me Boss at work,” Gibbs added.
“Of course,” Tony said automatically. “Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never called you Jethro before?”
Gibbs shrugged. “Never told you to,” he said.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony said with a thoughtful frown, which quickly turned to a grin. “Jethro,” he said, as if testing the name on his tongue. “Jethro, Jethro, Jethrooooo-”
“Hey,” Gibbs interrupted, annoyed. Tony couldn’t help but let his smile widen.
“Yes, Jethro?” he said innocently.
“Jesus,” Gibbs muttered. “Tell me again why I put up with you?”
“Because-” Tony stopped himself uncomfortably, aware that his ‘because you love me’ quip felt way too inappropriate when those were words that he and Gibbs had never uttered. “Because I’m totally sexy?” he said instead.
“Something like that,” Gibbs said with a half-smile, and Tony reached out and let his hand rest on Gibbs’ thigh, his fingers rubbing up and down against the rough fabric of Gibbs’ jeans. When Gibbs didn’t automatically push his hand away, Tony decided to push his luck and he let his fingers drift higher, brushing against Gibbs’ fly.
“Wanna die in a car accident?” Gibbs asked conversationally, and Tony scowled and took his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, come on, Jethro,” he said. “Don’t you think it would be fun if I-”
“Yeah, it would be,” Gibbs said. “But we’re almost home. Might as well wait.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Tony said. “Your sense of excitement and-damn,” he said when his phone rang, tugging it out of his pocket and groaning. “Dispatch.”
Gibbs pulled an illegal U-turn that made Tony grab onto his armrest with white knuckles as he listened to his orders to get the team to base; they had a dead Navy lieutenant.
He hung up and turned to Gibbs with an annoyed look on his face. “Does this mean I switch back to calling you Boss now?”
“What do we got?” Gibbs asked.
Tony sighed. “Dead lieutenant,” he said. “Rock Creek Park.”
“Call Ziva, McGee, and Ducky,” he said. Tony was pleased that he sounded disappointed.
“On it, Boss,” Tony said automatically, pulling out his phone and making the calls as Gibbs drove towards the Navy Yard. Once he’d finished the last call and shoved his phone back in his pocket, he turned and gazed at Gibbs, just watching him for a moment, taking in the way his hands gripped the steering wheel (Tony couldn’t help but think - with no small amount of yearning - about being behind the wheel himself), watching the slight shift in Gibbs’ shoulders as he switched lanes.
“What?” Gibbs said. “Something on my face?”
“No,” Tony said with a shrug. “I’m just looking.”
“At what?” Gibbs said, annoyed, and Tony rolled his eyes.
“You,” he said, wondering if Gibbs had a single romantic bone in his body - but then he remembered sitting on the bench with him on the porch, and coming home to see the fucking stair-lift on Gibbs’ railing, and Gibbs making him coffee - and he smiled, reaching out and settling his hand on Gibbs’ thigh again, keeping it close to his knee and squeezing.
“You gonna come check out the scene?” Gibbs asked.
“Yeah,” Tony said, knowing that he was feeling well enough that day to go, even if he would be confined to the roped off area of the actual crime. He let his thumb slide back and forth over Gibbs’ leg and he sighed. Now that they were getting called back into work, Tony couldn’t help but think about how much he had been looking forward to going home with Gibbs and relaxing with him and touching him-
“Case’ll be over soon enough,” Gibbs said.
“We haven’t even started yet,” Tony complained.
“So we’ll get there and do our best to close it as soon as we can,” Gibbs said, and Tony nodded, giving Gibbs’ knee a squeeze and pulling his hand away, looking out the window and watching the buildings pass by in a blur.
Tony realized with a start that for the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to outside of work, something to make him look forward to going home at the end of a long case, and he smiled. He just hoped that the inevitable return of headaches and dizziness and fatigue would hold off long enough for them to make some headway on the case.
--
When dispatch first called, Tony had hoped for a cut and dry case that they could wrap up quickly with enough time left over to have a relaxing Sunday dinner before the work week started again.
It didn’t quite work out that way.
Tony covered a yawn with his hand, staring blearily at the phone records on his computer screen as he tried to get a hold of the dead lieutenant’s cousin on the phone. He glanced at the time in the corner of his screen - 11:17 PM - and grimaced, rubbing a thumb over his temple and trying to pretend that the headache he could feel building was not going to be a bad one.
He left his ninth voicemail message of the day for the lieutenant’s cousin, who was beginning to look rather guilty if his evasion tactics were anything to go by, and looked up as the elevator doors dinged open. Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee came striding through, and Tony frowned at the obvious anger on Gibbs’ face.
“You get a hold of the cousin yet, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, sparing him a glance as he made his way to the computer.
“No, Boss,” Tony said, “I tried his home phone, cell phone, work phone, email, wife-”
“Try harder,” Gibbs snarled, and Tony did his best to show no visible reaction to his anger and turned back to the computer instead, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to think of some angle he was missing.
The lieutenant, Jeffrey Marsden, had been shot somewhere else and dumped in the park, and according to fibers found on his body and analyzed by Abby, the “somewhere else” was somewhere with a very expensive Persian carpet. Marsden’s cousin, Scott Piston, just happened to be very rich, and also on the receiving end of Marsden’s will. They had plenty of motive to pin on him, but he was nowhere to be found.
Tony jerked when his desk phone rang and hastily picked it up, hoping to God it was the damn cousin, Piston.
“Tony? Is everyone back yet? They must not be, because Gibbs would’ve known already that I have a ding, right? Because I do, I have a ding, and you should all-”
“We’re on our way, Abby,” Tony said, words breaking off into a yawn as he none-too-gently shoved the phone back on its receiver.
“Abby’s got something,” he said, pushing himself out of his chair and quickly grabbing his cane when things started to swim. He made his way to the elevator, crowding in with the rest of the team and heading down to the lab.
“This better be something good,” Gibbs all but growled, and Tony exchanged a wary look with Ziva as McGee kept his eyes trained anywhere but Gibbs.
Tony trailed behind the others as they entered Abby’s lab, and he grimaced when her loud music assaulted his ears, rubbing a hand over his forehead. That was not helping the headache he was doing his best to ignore.
Gibbs marched right over and turned it off, glaring at her in impatience as soon as he did so.
“Gibbs!” she said eagerly. “I have a ding!”
“Yeah, we got that part, Abs,” he said.
“No Caff-Pow?” she asked.
“Abby,” Gibbs warned, and she put her hands up in a gesture of surrender and turned back to her computer.
“Okay,” she said. “I just got a match for the fingerprint we found on the tape on Marsden’s mouth, but you’re not gonna like it, Gibbs.”
“Why not?” Gibbs asked, and Tony gripped Abby’s counter with his free hand, hoping no one noticed that he was clinging to it, along with his cane, to stay upright.
“The match is from an unsolved murder six months ago in Baltimore,” she said. “I already called Baltimore PD and got a copy of the report. I emailed you one and printed out a hard copy,” she added, gesturing towards a stack of papers sitting beside her printer. Gibbs went over and grabbed the papers, then turned to Tony after scanning through the first few lines.
“You know Detective McLean?” he asked, and Tony shook his head, jaw clenched.
Gibbs looked like he was about to say something, but he cut himself off as he took notice of Tony’s state.
“Christ, Tony,” he said, putting the file down and pulling Abby’s desk chair out, dragging it over to Tony and unceremoniously shoving McGee out of the way. “Sit down before you fall down,” he added, lining the chair up behind him and helping him ease down into it, going around to the front of him and looking at him carefully.
“You okay?” Gibbs asked with a frown.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony said.
“Fine?” Gibbs challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “Just dizzy.”
Gibbs gave him a skeptical look, but turned back to Abby. “What else you got?” he asked.
“A couch for Tony?” she said.
“I don’t need the couch,” Tony said, unable to keep the grouchiness out of his voice, and he was saved from further conversation when Abby’s computer dinged again.
“We got a hit on the BOLO for Piston’s-oh,” she said.
“Oh what?” Tony asked, staying in his chair as everyone else crowded around Abby’s computer screen. He itched to get up and see what happened, because he’d been searching for the damn cousin all day, but he was not moving.
Nobody said anything, and Gibbs turned on his heel and left the lab.
“DiNozzo, you stay here,” he called over his shoulder, and Ziva and McGee sent him apologetic glances as they trailed behind Gibbs out the door.
“What happened?” Tony asked, hoping he didn’t look as desperate as he felt. He hated feeling out of the loop, and the double whammy of staying behind and not knowing anything made his gut twist in a way that he couldn’t ignore.
“They found Piston’s car,” Abby said, turning to Tony and biting her lip.
“Yeah, I got that,” Tony said, frustrated and impatient. “Why-”
“He’s in it,” Abby said. “Dead.”
Tony ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. “Guess I should go see if I can try to figure out what the hell is going on,” he said, not exactly relishing the thought of going through all of their records and contacts and information again.
“Gibbs told you to stay here,” Abby said, stepping forward and glaring at him with her hands on her hips.
“Yeah,” Tony said, “in the building, not down here. I gotta go figure this out. Hand me that case file?”
Abby frowned, but Tony kept his gaze steady and unwavering, and she finally left his side to grab the thick stack of papers.
“Come down if you need to rest,” she said, waiting until he’d gotten himself out of the chair to hand him the file.
“I will,” Tony said, even though he knew that he wouldn’t. “Thanks, Abby.”
He made his way to the elevator and then to his desk, sitting down and poring through the file in front of him. As he read, mind automatically filing away important details and trying to draw connections between the cases even with a dull ache forming behind his eyes, he began to feel a familiar determination sweep over him, and he sat up a little straighter and looked at the case with newfound vigor and focus.
For the first time in a long time, sitting alone at his desk, case file spread out in front of him illuminated by the bright overhead work lights, he began to feel like maybe he could do this; after all, he’d always done his best work at night, trying to figure out the details that escaped him and the rest of the team during the day, and he was Gibbs' second for a reason.
So when his desk phone rang, he picked it up with a weary smile, his determination easily overriding his headache.
“Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS.”
--
Tony felt a warm hand on his shoulder shaking him awake, and he sighed, automatically leaning into the touch. “Gibbs,” he breathed, and then froze when he began to listen to the sounds around him and realize that he was not in his bed - was that Ziva and Tim he heard talking?
He wearily pushed his head up and squinted against the overhead lights. It was still dark outside, but the team was back. Ziva and Tim were discussing something next to Tim’s computer, eating takeout, and Gibbs was holding a bag out in front of Tony.
“Time’s it?” Tony asked, rubbing his eyes and wincing when his back popped.
“Four in the morning,” Gibbs said.
Tony took a moment to stare blearily at Gibbs, eyes still half-closed, and then he closed his eyes again, silently counting to ten, wondering if he was dreaming, and opened them once more.
Damn, he thought. Not dreaming.
It was four in the morning, he was still at work, everyone was eating takeout like it was lunchtime, and on top of that, everything was blurry. Not blurry enough for him to freak out, but blurry enough that he knew the case files he’d been looking at would be a hard stretch to read.
Suddenly, at the thought of case files, he sat up in his chair and stared urgently at Gibbs.
“I figured it out,” he said frantically, brain jolting itself awake in his haste to speak. “I was gonna call-and then I fell asleep, I didn’t mean to-”
“Hey,” Gibbs said, perching on the edge of his desk as Ziva and McGee turned to look at him. “What’d you figure out?”
“I was looking at the old Baltimore case,” he said. “It was a murder. The vic - Johnson - was Piston’s partner in an accounting firm where Marsden used to answer phones before he joined the Navy.”
Tony paused for a moment, distracted by the enticing aroma coming from the takeout bag Gibbs was still holding, but when Gibbs reached out and tugged it out of Tony’s line of (questionable) sight, Tony looked back towards Gibbs’ face and continued.
“Baltimore PD looked into Piston and Marsden for Johnson’s murder, but they had an alibi, and it still sticks. They didn’t do it. It was Piston’s wife,” Tony said.
“You got evidence?” Gibbs asked, narrowing his eyes at Tony.
Tony nodded vigorously, but stopped when it made his head swim. “Yeah,” he said. “I was looking at her phone records, and she placed calls to an unlisted cell number on the night of the old Baltimore murder, and in the report, it says it was her mechanic, and she was having legit car trouble. She made calls to the same number at least three times a day for the last week, and then again right before Marsden’s murder, and an hour before Piston’s car accident. Her mechanic friend’s got a pretty long rap sheet, and he’s been accused of murder once before; tampering with brake lines. Got cleared of all charges, but that doesn’t mean anything, right Boss?”
Gibbs just looked at him thoughtfully, and McGee was typing something into his computer, probably to find evidence to back up Tony’s claims. Ziva looked pensive as she listened to Tony. “Piston’s brake line showed evidence of tampering,” she remarked, and Tony grinned, feeling the heady rush of evidence beginning to come together.
“Also, the wife has expensive tastes-she bought a really nice, expensive Persian rug a few months ago for their house in Alexandria, but she’s having trouble paying her bills. The accounting firm’s not doing too well these days, and with Piston out of the picture, she'd get life insurance and anything he would've gotten from Marsden's will,” Tony added.
Gibbs dropped the takeout bag on Tony’s desk, right in front of him, and patted him on the head. “Good work, Tony,” he said, and Tony beamed, opening his bag and pulling out a chicken parm grinder. A little heavy for four AM, but he was starving.
“What’s the mechanic’s name?” Gibbs asked, watching as Tony took a huge bite of his sandwich.
Tony shrugged. “Don’t remember,” he said once he swallowed. “It’s in there, in my notes,” he added, gesturing towards the papers on his desk.
“So find it,” Gibbs said, still perched on the edge and watching Tony with a mixture of fondness and exasperation.
Tony glanced at the papers, the letters forming blurry grey blobs rather than distinct characters, and then looked at Gibbs sheepishly. “I can’t read them,” he admitted.
Gibbs frowned at him, and Ziva spoke up from beside McGee’s desk.
“Are you having vision trouble?” she asked.
“It’s just a little blurry,” Tony said. “It’s not too bad.”
Gibbs held up two fingers. “How many?” he asked.
“Two,” Tony said. “It’s just a little blurry,” he repeated.
“Simon Forrester,” McGee interrupted. “That’s the mechanic. I just pulled up Piston’s wife’s phone records.”
“Figure out where we can find him, McGee. We’re gonna bring this bastard in. Ziva, locate the wife,” Gibbs said. “And Tony-eat that.”
Tony liked the way Gibbs’ voice softened when he spoke to him, and he especially liked the way Gibbs was perched on the edge of his desk, and when Gibbs squeezed his shoulder before standing up, Tony ducked his head to hide his smile.
He was beginning to think maybe he could still be useful, after all.
--
By the time they wrapped the case, it was late Sunday night/early Monday morning, and the Director gave them until Tuesday off in compensation. As they drove home, the traffic lights forming blurry crystalline shapes in the periphery of Tony’s vision, he tiredly turned his head to gaze at Gibbs’ fuzzy features.
“I’m glad we’re going home,” he said. He’d caught a few naps at NCIS while the rest of the team was out catching Forrester and Piston’s wife, but he was still exhausted, and he knew Gibbs was, too.
“You did good today, Tony,” Gibbs said, and the approval in his voice was clear, as was the fatigue. “We'd probably still be there if it weren’t for you.”
Tony smiled at the rare praise from Gibbs, and turned to look out the window again.
“Let’s just stay in bed until we have to go back to work,” Tony suggested, letting his eyes drift closed.
“Sounds good to me,” Gibbs replied as he pulled into the driveway. “You need a hand getting inside?”
Tony shook his head as he pushed his car door open, but then just sat on the edge of the seat, legs and cane out of the car, poised to stand up but not moving.
“Come on,” Gibbs said, going around to Tony’s side. “Let’s go in.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, “I’m just taking my time.”
“Let me help you,” Gibbs said gently. Tony sighed, looking up at him with a tired smile.
“Are you getting sick of pulling me out of the car all the time?” he asked.
Gibbs snorted and leaned down, kissing Tony slowly before pulling away and sticking his hands under Tony’s armpits.
“Sometimes I think I need someone to pull me out of the car,” Gibbs admitted, then counted to three and helped pull Tony up.
“I got it now,” Tony said once he felt balanced, wearily making his way up the walk and going very slowly on the stairs, not protesting when Gibbs kept a steadying hand on his back that tightened every time he went up a step.
“Why don’t you go straight upstairs?” Gibbs said, walking next to Tony and keeping close as he wearily plopped down onto the stair-lift. “I’ll be up in a minute,” he added, leaning down and kissing him.
“Don’t take too long,” Tony said, pressing the ‘up’ button and rubbing a tired hand over his face as the little chair slowly made its way up Gibbs’ stairs. He’d been embarrassed to even look at it when it was first installed, but on days like those, when he felt weary and unbalanced and on the verge of collapsing, it was a welcome addition.
By the time he’d made his way into the bedroom, tugged his shoes and clothes off and grabbed a t-shirt and sweats - it was beginning to get cold out, after all - Gibbs was already upstairs, changed, and just about done brushing his teeth. Tony joined him in the bathroom and didn’t protest when Gibbs stood behind him with both arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing chaste kisses against the back of his neck as Tony brushed his teeth. Tony gave their blurred reflection a small smile around his toothbrush, and he thought it was incredibly sexy to watch Gibbs standing behind him like that, even if he was holding him up rather than just having a sink-side cuddle.
“Ready for bed?” Gibbs asked, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Tony said as he dropped his toothbrush into the cup next to the sink. He grabbed his cane and made his way back to bed, eagerly dropping down onto the soft sheets and rolling over to curl up against Gibbs as soon as they were both lying down. Gibbs pulled the sheets and comforter up over them and Tony lightly kissed Gibbs’ chest through the worn fabric of his faded “NIS” t-shirt as soon as arms wrapped around him.
“Goodnight, Jethro,” he murmured, and Gibbs’ arms tightened in response.
“’night, Tony.”
--
Tony woke to an empty bed and he frowned, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. He’d been looking forward to waking up curled next to Gibbs; he’d planned on a morning full of kisses and roaming hands, but that plan was obviously foiled. He turned his head and squinted at the clock, relieved that the numbers were not quite as blurry as they’d been the day before, and he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, knowing Gibbs had probably been up for hours since it was already almost one in the afternoon.
He hobbled to the staircase and rode the stair-lift down once he was done upstairs; he had a feeling he probably could’ve walked down the stairs that morning, but he was tired, so he was happy to use the lift.
“I made lunch,” Gibbs called from the kitchen.
“What about breakfast?” Tony called back, just as the stair-lift reached the bottom of the stairs. He smiled at the sight of Gibbs leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping a cup of coffee. Tony knew it was probably from the second pot of the day already.
“You missed breakfast,” Gibbs said, setting his coffee down as Tony approached him. Tony let go of his cane and leaned against Gibbs, glad to get his daily share of morning-Gibbs-hug since he’d missed out on one in bed.
“Why didn’t you stay in bed with me?” Tony complained, voice muffled against Gibbs’ neck.
“Had things to do,” Gibbs said.
“Like what?” Tony asked. “Make coffee?”
“Something like that,” Gibbs said, responding eagerly when Tony tilted his head up to kiss him.
“You broke your own rule,” Gibbs said once they’d pulled apart.
“What rule?” Tony asked, looking at him skeptically.
“The one about your minty-fresh mouth,” Gibbs said, tightening his hold on Tony’s waist.
Tony grinned. “Just seeing if you remembered,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gibbs said. “Want some coffee? It’s fresh.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, grabbing hold of his cane again and leaving the warmth of Gibbs’ body to make a cup of coffee.
“What’s for lunch?” Tony asked, glancing at him as he added sugar to his cup.
“I just heated up some soup,” Gibbs said with a shrug. “We have that leftover chicken from the other night. I was gonna make a sandwich.”
“Sounds good,” Tony said, reaching for his pills so that he could take the ones he needed. “There enough for two?”
“Yup,” Gibbs said, taking a few things over to the table for lunch. Tony sipped his coffee as he tried to get the last vestiges of sleep out of his brain. He watched Gibbs move about the kitchen, smiling when Gibbs stopped to kiss him before reaching behind him to grab two bowls out of the cabinet.
“Get out of the way,” Gibbs said a moment later, giving him a mild poke since he was standing in front of the silverware drawer.
Tony just grinned at him and shifted aside, wondering if the pleasant twist he felt in his chest when Gibbs ordered him around made him certifiable - but if it did, he knew he should’ve been put away long ago.
--
Tony liked the smell of autumn; the air was crisp and clean, the leaves were beginning to turn, and there was something refreshing about the oppressive humidity of summer giving way to the cool, dry air of fall that he’d always loved. He held onto his coffee mug with both hands, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he relaxed against the bench on the back porch. Gibbs had gone outside with him and then left him alone, saying he’d be back out in just a minute.
“Neighbor’s dog won’t shut up,” Tony called, glancing towards the back door when he heard Gibbs approaching. “Maybe we should-”
His words died on his lips when Gibbs came outside, and he slowly set his coffee mug down and turned to Gibbs with what he knew had to be an awestruck expression.
“Gibbs,” he breathed, eyes flickering from his face to his hands and back to his face, unsure of what to say. “Gi-Jethro,” he corrected. “Jethro, you-”
Gibbs was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face, hands out in front of him, a beautiful wooden cane held out for Tony’s inspection.
“You-for me?” Tony said incredulously, his hands itching to reach out and touch the cane.
“Not for me,” Gibbs said with a shrug, sitting beside Tony and shoving it into his hands.
Tony held onto it reverently, staring with wide eyes, letting his fingers ghost over the intricately carved geometric texture that spanned the entire length of the cane. His eyes swept from the curved handle on top, adorned with an ergonomic grip for his hand, all the way down to the rubber capped bottom, taking in the glossy stained finish and the beautiful, hand-carved details in between.
“Took it in to make sure it meets medical standards,” Gibbs said, and Tony’s head shot up to look at him. “It does,” he added. “It’s safe. I wanted-”
Tony cut him off with a desperate kiss, one hand holding the cane safe in his lap and the other threading eagerly through Gibbs’ hair, pulling him close. He ended the kiss almost as abruptly as he started it and stared at Gibbs for a moment, eyes a bit shinier than usual.
“Jethro,” he said, and swallowed hard to get himself under control when his voice began to choke. “Jethro,” he repeated, “what the fuck did I do to deserve you?”
Gibbs gave him a crooked, gentle smile and stroked his fingers through Tony’s hair, playing with the soft, short pieces just above his neck. “Could ask the same thing about you,” he said, his voice soft and calm and warm like the autumn sun.
“How long did this take?” Tony asked, his heart hammering in his chest because he didn’t think anyone had ever done anything like that for him in his entire life, and he didn’t know whether he should feel guilty or happy or both or neither.
Gibbs shrugged. “Took a while,” he said. “But it was worth it.”
Tony brought a hand up and rubbed at his traitorous eyes, feeling a bit of moisture collecting in the corners as the full weight of all that Gibbs did for him began to really sink in - he took him in, took care of him, carved him a fucking cane - and then, something else hit him, something warm and pleasant and terrifying and exhilarating.
“Gibbs,” he said, voice breathy but steady as a strange calmness settled over him. “I love you.” He was surprised by how easy it was, how naturally the words fell from his lips, but then also surprised by how inadequate they were, because what he felt for Gibbs - three fucking words did not do it justice. “I-I really love you,” he added, his heart beating faster. “So much,” he added, “for so long. This is-this cane, this is…amazing. This-” He paused, a grin stretching over his face. “I love you,” he said again, because the words were strangely addicting.
Gibbs smiled at him, his eyes crinkling in the corners, his hand pulling Tony’s head closer to his own. “Love you too,” he said before kissing him, slow and steady and meaningful, and Tony felt it all the way down to his bones, because it was suddenly clear to him exactly how much his life had changed in the past few months and exactly how much better it was with Gibbs by his side - because even if he couldn’t do fieldwork or be the same Tony he was before, he had something he’d wanted his entire fucking life that made him feel even more needed and brave and heroic that he’d ever felt - love, plain and simple and unadorned, and he pulled Gibbs closer.
“Let’s go inside,” Gibbs murmured, pulling away for a moment. Tony nodded, cooling mug of coffee and ugly old metal cane forgotten next to the bench, and he let Gibbs pull him up. Gibbs simultaneously kissed him and tugged him along as he slowly stepped backwards. Tony kept one hand on Gibbs’ waist and one wrapped tightly around his new cane as Gibbs all but dragged him into the house, still kissing him relentlessly, and when Gibbs pushed him down onto the stair-lift, Tony yanked his head down for a bruising kiss, pulling away and swallowing hard at the look of desire on Gibbs’ face.
He pulled his shirt over his head as Gibbs pressed the button that sent the chair sliding up the banister, and he couldn’t help but laugh impatiently at the snail’s pace the chair took, especially since Gibbs had shot up the stairs and yanked off his own shirt and started in on his fly before Tony was even halfway up.
As soon as he got to the top of the stairs, Gibbs was kissing him again, hands roaming impatiently over Tony’s bare skin, thumbs sliding with intent over Tony’s nipples, lips automatically finding that spot beneath his ear that made Tony gasp and pull Gibbs’ body closer.
“Want you to fuck me,” Tony said, “please,”
Gibbs pulled away, panting, and looked at him intently. “You sure?”
Tony nodded vigorously, the skin on his neck, damp from Gibbs’ mouth, tingling pleasantly as the cool air brushed over it. “Fuck yes,” he said, voice low, before pulling Gibbs down for another kiss.
Gibbs broke it off quickly. “Not fucking you on the stair-lift,” he said breathlessly, helping Tony up and tugging him down the hallway, kissing and touching the whole way, shoving him down on the bed as soon as they got into the bedroom. Gibbs kicked off his own pants and underwear as Tony did the same, and then he stretched out on top of Tony, slowing his kisses down and making them a little gentler and a little less demanding.
Gibbs pulled away and stared intently at Tony for a moment, and when Tony nodded at him and ran an encouraging finger up and down his spine, Gibbs reached over to pull the lube out of the nightstand. Tony watched with rapt anticipation, eyes eagerly tracking Gibbs’ every move.
Gibbs kissed him once more, a short and reassuring brush of lips, and then he was trailing kisses down Tony’s stomach and pressing a kiss against his hip. Tony's heart hammered as he watched Gibbs squirt lube onto his fingers, and when Gibbs was urging his legs up a bit and pressing a finger inside of him, Tony gasped, head falling back.
Gibbs had worked a few fingers inside of him while he’d jerked him off before, and it had been incredible, if a bit odd at first, but this time, knowing what was going to replace the fingers, Tony bit his lip and squirmed and hoped he didn’t come too soon.
“Gibbs, please, I want more,” Tony said, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.
“Not Gibbs,” Gibbs all but growled, adding a second finger and gently moving it back and forth.
Tony groaned, spikes of pleasure washing over him as he felt himself stretch. “Jethro,” he said. “Jethro, please.” Gibbs was already turning him to mush and he hadn’t even added a third finger. Tony whimpered when Gibbs closed a hand around his dick and stroked it maddeningly slow, so lost in the pleasure of Gibbs' hands all over him that it could've gone on for five seconds or five hours and he wouldn't have known the difference, and he felt his hips jerk when Gibbs finally worked his third finger in. Gibbs kept at it, moving his fingers slowly and steadily and Tony did his best to stay relaxed and focused on the pleasure.
Tony felt strangely empty when Gibbs fingers’ suddenly left him, and he watched, breathing heavily, cock twitching and nerve endings on fire, as Gibbs reached beside him to wipe his hands on a tissue. Tony watched hungrily as Gibbs coated his dick with lube, and he didn't protest when Gibbs lifted Tony's legs up and settled them around his waist. He knew they’d probably cramp up soon, but he didn’t care. He just wanted Gibbs inside of him, and he wanted to watch him the whole time.
Gibbs lined himself up, cock brushing against Tony's hole, and Tony looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting, urging him on.
“Tony,” Gibbs said, voice raw. “Tony, you sure-”
“Please,” Tony said, reaching up and cupping Gibbs' cheek with his hand.
That was all Gibbs needed to hear, and then he was gently pushing in, stopping abruptly when Tony closed his eyes and winced.
“Keep going,” Tony urged breathlessly.
“Am I hurting you?” Gibbs asked.
“No,” Tony said, “it’s just - weird. Keep going.”
Gibbs pushed in a little further, leaning down to kiss Tony and trying to focus all of his energy on staying still rather than giving in to the intense warmth and pleasure he felt by pushing all the way in, but then Tony shifted underneath him, and he couldn’t help but slide in the rest of the way, and Tony groaned, breath hitching. Gibbs kissed him, a slow and trembling mesh of lips and tongues and skin, and then Tony pushed him away, eyes shining, panting for breath.
“Fuck me,” Tony said desperately, voice soft and needy. “Feels so good already, please, fuck me.”
Gibbs pulled out a bit and then slowly pushed back in, eyes on Tony’s face for any sign of discomfort. “Is this-”
“More,” Tony said breathily. “Just do it.”
Gibbs’ body was trembling above Tony’s from the effort of keeping still and going slow, and he kissed Tony hard and then pushed all the way in, Tony’s hips shifting up to meet his, and then Tony was moaning beneath him, blunt nails digging into his back, urging him on, and Gibbs started to get more comfortable with the rhythm and the angle of it all, and he fucked him slow and deep and hard.
Tony moaned and tangled a hand into Gibbs hair, lost in a haze of pleasure. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected it to be like, but Gibbs’ dick buried inside of him was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt, and his entire body was tingling, waves of pleasure washing over him every time Gibbs thrust himself all the way in, and he was saying things he wasn’t even aware of, moans and murmurs and swears flowing out of his mouth like lava, Gibbs’ lips hot and insistent on his neck, and then Gibbs was kissing him again, speeding up, fucking him harder and faster, and Tony tilted his hips up, head falling back in pleasure when Gibbs hit his prostate and stars exploded behind his eyes.
“Please, Gibbs, more,” he moaned. “Fuck, fuck, Jethro, fuck-”
And then Gibbs kissed him hard, probably to shut him up, and Tony moaned helplessly into the kiss. Gibbs’ hand circled around his dick, tugging insistently, and that was all it took for the fiery anticipation building in the pit of his stomach to explode into a mind-numbing, intense orgasm, his whole body clenching around Gibbs’ cock, and then Gibbs was groaning out Tony’s name, and Tony let out a breathless grunt at the feeling of Gibbs filling up his ass. As his orgasm left him, he fell back into a boneless heap with Gibbs sprawled out on top of him, panting in his ear.
He wasn’t sure how long they laid there, but all too soon, Gibbs was kissing him and then very carefully pulling out, and Tony winced when Gibbs’ dick left him, and realized when he felt oddly bereft without him there exactly how incredible it had been to have Gibbs inside of him, filling him up, and he felt an embarrassing burn behind his eyes, and then Gibbs was kissing him, soft and gentle and soothing.
“I love you,” Gibbs murmured, voice soft against Tony’s lips. “So much,” he added before kissing him again.
Tony felt tears sliding down the sides of his face, pooling on the pillow, but he didn’t care; he felt wrung out and amazing and surprisingly vulnerable. “I love you, too,” he said, voice choked. “More than anything.”
And then Gibbs was kissing him again, hands running through his hair, body warm and reassuring against his own, and Tony smiled, even as Gibbs gently pushed his legs back down and he had to bite back a groan at the painful cramping he felt.
“Okay?” Gibbs asked, his thumb sliding back and forth over Tony’s cheekbone, fingers brushing the stray tears away.
Tony managed a tearful laugh and pulled Gibbs down for a kiss. “Okay,” he confirmed a moment later. “Just-it’s just a lot, you know?”
Gibbs pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple, then to the tip of his nose, then to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
Tony suddenly realized as Gibbs gazed down at him through intense, caring eyes that what started out for him as a nightmare a couple months ago had morphed into something that he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams, and the intense elation he felt at Gibbs’ new role in his life stood out in stark contrast to the desolation and fear he’d been feeling since he'd gotten sick. He felt fresh tears leak out of his eyes as Gibbs leaned down and kissed him again, fingers carding through his hair.
And when Gibbs pulled away and pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder before grabbing a tissue and carefully cleaning off Tony’s stomach, Tony just watched, smiling, realizing for the first time what it meant to be truly, simply happy.
Gibbs’ words from what felt like years ago but had really only been a month or two suddenly flashed through his mind - we’ll get through this - and he reached out and wove his fingers through Gibbs’.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what, cleaning you up?” Gibbs said. “Think I wanna lay on you when your stomach’s covered-”
Tony laughed, effectively cutting Gibbs off and tugging on his hand until Gibbs was lying on top of him again, face inches from his own.
“For everything,” Tony said, and Gibbs seemed to understand what he meant because he just nodded, suddenly serious, before leaning down to kiss him.
“Love you,” Gibbs murmured a moment later, pressing a kiss right next to Tony’s ear. “And you don’t need to thank me,” he added, voice soft and intimate and breathy. “Should thank you.”
Tony just smiled at him, beginning to realize that maybe Gibbs needed someone to take care of just as much as Tony needed the help, and he nestled into the blankets contentedly when Gibbs pulled them up over their bodies.
Suddenly his smile turned to a wicked grin that only seemed to emerge when teasing Gibbs was imminent. “Goodnight, Jeth," he said, voice breathy and light.
Predictably, Gibbs reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Call me that again and you’re sleeping in the basement,” he growled.
With a wide, sated grin, warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach, Tony curled up next to Gibbs. “Love you, too,” he murmured, and as he drifted off to sleep, Gibbs' hand warm on the back of his neck, he realized that he wouldn't trade his life, wrought with headaches and dizziness and weak legs as it was, for anything.
Chapter End Notes:
Last chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! And I would love to hear your thoughts on the story now that it's over! :)