~
Gibbs smiled when he opened the door and smelled the home cooking. It was unlike anything he’d ever smelled before, but it reminded him of his godmother’s smothered pork chops, sweet potatoes and mixed greens. He didn’t remember his mother’s cooking, but once she died, Jethro found himself eating plenty of meals at his uncle Leroy’s house and Mabel Jones was quite simply the best cook Gibbs had ever known. “Smells like Christmas with Uncle Jet and Aunt Mabel,” Gibbs said as he turned the corner into the kitchen. He tempered his shock at finding the sexy, long haired and barefoot man in low hanging jeans and a tight t-shirt. Eliot was crooning to Johnnie Taylor and checking pots with his back to the doorway.
“Does Aunt Mabel have a daughter? Our boy is craving some southern comfort right about now, Gibbs.” Eliot turned around with a friendly smile, obviously in good spirits. Gibbs didn’t want to think about why.
“Where’s Tony?”
“I put him to sleep for a while. He usually only needs fifteen minutes to recover, but he looks bad, Gibbs. How’s he been doing? You know he won’t tell me the truth,” Eliot said.
“What did he tell you?”
“Just the obvious: he’s pregnant.”
“Morning sickness has been constant and I think it’s come back this last week, but he hides it from me. He has mood swings-“
“And tantrums, no doubt,” Eliot added, smiling at the quirk of Gibbs’ lips. “Tony hates to be sick. I bet he’s been miserable. How are you holding up?”
“Fine. It’s not me who’s pregnant and sick everyday,” Gibbs huffed, not wanting to talk about himself.
“Right. I just want to thank you for looking after Tony and my children Gibbs. I feel so much better knowing you’re around.” Eliot paused, waiting for Gibbs to interrogate him. When Gibbs remained silent, Eliot sighed to himself, realizing this wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m being chased by a crazy sociopath, Gibbs. If he finds out anything about my family or friends he’ll use it as leverage. I’m sure he’d kill Tony- probably after experimenting on him first,” Eliot muttered. “I can’t let that happen.”
“How are you going to protect them if you’re off somewhere playing dead?” Gibbs demanded.
“The best way to protect them is to be dead. Besides, this guy is serious; who says I’ll be playing?” Eliot’s voice was amused but Gibbs still heard the seriousness. “Growing up, we lived on a ranch in east Texas. It was a day’s drive from the base where my dad was stationed. When times got rough one year, I remember my dad having to sell his truck to pay bills and my mother telling him not to do it. It meant we wouldn’t see him once a week. That year I only saw my dad when he could bum a ride and that was rare. He was deployed and killed by enemy fire soon after that, but I did get one last letter before he left. You know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said he missed me, but he never regretted selling his truck because it was what his family needed from him.” Eliot said, knowing it probably wasn’t profound, but it was right. Now, his family needed to be safe and to make that happen, Eliot needed to disappear, at least until Damien Moreau was gone and who knew how long that would be? It was better, Eliot realized, for Tony to think he was dead so he wouldn’t come looking for him and get himself noticed by the wrong people.
“So you’re leaving him? He’s too loyal; he’ll find you.”
“Not if he thinks I’m dead. He knows I’m running from someone; I’ll tell him not to look for me, to think of the children,” Eliot said, and Gibbs could hear the resolve in the young man’s tone. “Now, you don’t owe me a thing, Gibbs, but this is Tony we’re talking about. I gotta know your intentions. Are you going to take care of my family?”
“Been taking care of Tony for ten years now. See no reason to stop because he’s added a couple more DiNozzo’s to the list,” Gibbs smiled sadly, wondering how long he’d get to play dad.
“Let’s just call it your family then, in case I don’t make it back. We wouldn’t want to confuse the little DiNozzos.” Eliot smiled, turning back to his crockpot of greens and checking his cornbread in the oven. “Since I’m being so generous, maybe you’ll take some friendly advice.” Gibbs just looked, giving Eliot his undivided attention. “You have a new family on the way in a few short weeks, from what I hear, Gibbs. Don’t you think it’s high time you remodeled a bit? Memories are important, but you shouldn’t let them get in the way of your second chance.”
“Is that what you’re giving me?”
“Most people don’t get one, Gibbs,” was all Eliot would say. He pulled the cast iron skillet from the oven filled with the golden brown bread that smelled sweet and buttery. Gibbs craned his neck to see which dish the heavenly smell was coming from when Eliot filled him in. “I prefer hot water corn bread myself, but my granny used to make it like this, all soft and buttery-sweet like cake so the kids would eat it.”
“Tony always did like his sweets.”
“Exactly.”
“Wow! You two are really hitting it off, agreeing on things and all,” Tony smiled, sauntering into the kitchen and snagging a seat next to Gibbs at the table.
“Everyone knows you like to eat, DiNozzo,” Gibbs joked with a straight face that made Tony breathe a bit easier. Tony got nervous again when Eliot stood over him and tilted his chin upwards, demanding a kiss. ‘Just make it quick,’ Tony told himself, but Eliot gripped tony’s neck in one hand and rubbed at his collarbone with the other in a gesture that was so possessive, it had Tony almost whimpering at the table. When he lowered his head, he stole a glance at Gibbs, who was very interested in his mail. Some small twinge inside of Tony made him angry that Gibbs wasn’t jealous, but he let it pass. Mostly, he was thankful that Gibbs was not grunting in anger with a twitchy trigger finger.
“You all right, boss?” Tony wondered, suddenly suspect of Gibbs’ good will toward the Eliot situation.
“Never better. Dinner smells great, Eliot.”
“Wait ‘til you taste it!” Tony gushed, almost bouncing in his seat.
~
“You full?” Eliot asked an hour later after Gibbs finished telling a few stories about his godfather, Leroy Jethro Jones and his godmother, Aunt Mabel. Tony was rapt with attention, loving the stories so much that he couldn’t decide if he’d rather eat or ask questions. Gibbs, who was just glad to see Tony keeping food down, made the decision for him.
“Eat!” He said before continuing with his tale. When it was done, Gibbs looked both men over carefully. “You should both get some sleep; it’s late. You bunking in the bedroom downstairs, right? If you need anything, Tony knows where things are,” Gibbs dismissed them, giving his approval.
“Dessert first?” Tony pleaded.
“Tony, you’re stuffed! Besides, from what Gibbs tells me, you probably can’t handle anything as rich as my peach cobbler right now. Wait until tomorrow, and Gibbs,” Eliot demanded as their host was making his way to the basement, “don’t let him have more than a cup at a time or he’ll make himself sick,” Eliot said, noting Gibbs’ grunt of acknowledgement.
“You didn’t have to tell the police,” Tony hissed.
“Obviously I did, Anthony, or you wouldn’t be so pissed,” Eliot laughed, pulling Tony to his feet and leading him to the bedroom.
~
“I should go check on him,” Tony said after listening to Gibbs hammer for thirty minutes. There was a crash, then a curse, then more hammering. Tony resisted when Eliot tried to pull him against his chest to rest. “I’m not sleepy. And something’s wrong with Gibbs!” Tony practically pouted as he lay tangled with Eliot in the dark room.
“He doesn’t need you to check on him,” Eliot sighed, knowing what was irking Gibbs. It could only be the fact that the man he loved was laying in the arms of another less than twelve feet above Gibbs’ head. ‘Well,’ Eliot thought, ‘that would be fixed soon enough.’ Eliot looked down at Tony from where he leaned against the headboard and decided there was no moment like the present to get an understanding between them and he knew Tony could use the distraction. “What are we gonna name them?”
“I was thinking Anthony DiNozzo III, if it was a boy, but that was before I knew it was twins.”
“Why not Spenser?” Eliot pretended to be hurt.
“Spenser is a cool name! Spenser DiNozzo? Maybe an Italian middle name will make it ‘pop’” Tony teased.
“The last name, idiot! Why not Spenser-DiNozzo?”
“I guess that’s alright,” Tony smiled and then went silent for a moment. “Gibbs likes odd names. As much as he claims to hate his name, he loves when I call him Jethro. He loves to see people’s reaction to his name,” Tony murmured wistfully.
“Good. Maybe he’ll like Dallas and Dixon.”
“Serious? It sounds like you’re casting a porno,” Tony laughed.
“Only in your dirty mind, Anthony. You can’t use my last name, but you can name them for my hometown and my favorite cousin, Dixie,” Eliot said, sounding serious.
“Why wouldn’t you want them to have your name?” Tony sat up in the darkness, reaching over to turn on the bedside light. Eliot caught his hands and shushed him quiet.
“Anthony, I love you and our babies very much,” he started, “but I have to leave to make sure you all stay safe. You can’t look for me. Do you understand? And you sure as hell can’t give them my name.”
“You’re leaving me,” was all Tony understood. He couldn’t believe his luck. The one person he knew would never run out on him, the one person who had pined for Tony all of his adult life, was leaving him knocked up and alone.
“I have to, but I couldn’t be leaving you in more capable hands, Anthony. Gibbs will be a great father and he’ll take good care of you and the babies. It’ll be alright,” Eliot soothed, kissing Tony’s temple before resting Tony’s head on his chest. Despite Tony’s silence, Eliot felt the moisture soak his chest but decided to stroke Tony’s back until he fell asleep. Sleep didn’t come easily. It came only after forty-five minutes of innocuous conversation about Gibbs’ horrible taste in decorating and how the twins deserved a more respectable home environment which turned into child proofing before Eliot heard Tony softly snore. In the early morning, Eliot awoke to find himself in bed alone. He went to the kitchen, expecting to see Tony raiding the ice cream and cobbler. Instead, he found Tony listening to vinyl. He relaxed in the shadows, watching his love and his children in the quiet of the early morning.
“Miles:Kind of Blue. It’s a classic!” Tony explained, knowing Eliot had followed him into the living room. He couldn’t hear Gibbs sanding anymore, so he hoped his boss had fallen asleep under his boat as he usually did when he stayed up late to drink and think. Tony began swaying to “My Favorite Things” and Eliot came behind him, arms encircling Tony’s waist until Tony turned and they were moving together. They danced in the dark and whispered meaningless conversations. Tony teased Eliot about wanting to watch Dixie Does Dallas and Eliot laughed and said at least the names were unisex. They collapsed onto the couch tangled together and ended up laughing and cuddling while Eliot stroked Tony’s hair. Gibbs watched from the door of the basement. It was dark enough that they didn’t notice him, but he retreated downstairs so he wouldn’t interrupt the moment.
Tony deserves to be loved and held, Gibbs thought, wishing it could be him holding the beautiful man and rubbing his belly. He listened to the gentle strum of Tony’s guitar as Eliot serenaded Tony in the early morning hours. The Spanish style and the smooth tone told Gibbs this kid could’ve been a star and it made Gibbs glad that Tony had someone so good who loved him so much, even if the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual. Gibbs wondered how long Eliot would stay and almost hoped he’d stay longer than 24 hours; Tony had never looked as happy since they found out about the twins and Gibbs could use a little down time to get his head on straight for when Eliot left again. He went back to sanding until his eyelids got heavy and he relaxed under his boat.
~
The vibration woke Tony almost as quickly as his Mighty Mouse ring.
“Hardison. What’s up? Meet me at the rendezvous. If I don’t make it, get the hell outta there.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony demanded, fully awake now.
“Since when do you sleep so light? I told you, hon, I gotta get out of here. I have to disappear so don’t try to find me, Anthony. You tell those kids I love them and that Uncle Gibbs is gon’ take real good care of them.” Eliot rubbed Tony’s belly, kissing him than kissing his stomach.
“Don’t go,” Tony pleaded, rushing behind Eliot to put on his clothes as well, stumbling in the dark so that he cursed loudly.
“Are you okay?” Eliot stopped for a moment as he made his way to the doors off the deck.
“No. I hurt my toe,” Tony whined, seeing that it stopped Eliot from leaving. Eliot sighed, wanting to go down on his knees and kissed it better.
“You’re a big boy, Tony. You’ll be fine. You raise these children and know that if I survive, I’ll be back to find you as soon as it’s safe. If I don’t come back, don’t you worry. I love you, Anthony DiNozzo.” Eliot said softly, kissing Tony passionately before disappearing out the door.
~
It was the cursing that woke Gibbs, but it was the slamming of the door and the squeal of the rubber in his driveway that made him jump up and run out the door as he grabbed two jackets. He was only seconds behind Tony and he hoped to God Tony hadn’t gotten himself involved with whoever was following Eliot Spenser. He found Tony’s Mustang soon enough on the deserted streets but he was speeding and half a mile away where he was merging onto the beltway. Gibbs followed and didn’t catch up until Tony had taken Arlington Blvd. around to Washington and arrived at Memorial Drive Circle, starting out towards Arlington Memorial Bridge.
“What the hell…” Gibbs wondered as he watched Tony stop his car in thankfully light traffic and run toward the near empty walkway. The only thing Gibbs could see was a lone man running across the dark bridge. “Why not drive, Spenser?” Gibbs wondered aloud but just drove to where Tony had left his car running and jumped out to run through the dark morning to retrieve Tony. When he saw the helicopter sweeping down the Potomac, Gibbs knew they had to get out of there and fast. “Tony! Down!” he yelled and his voice startled DiNozzo who turned and ducked just as bullets rang out not twenty feet ahead of him. Gibbs had made it to where Tony crouched on the sidewalk, hidden behind a solid stone column. From there, they got a front row seat to Eliot sabotaging the dangerously close aircraft. Eliot threw two knives which apparently hit their mark since the shooter fell from the helicopter which listed to the side and crashed into the river. Eliot turned slowly towards Tony and smiled, wondering if Tony could see that he was at peace with what was about to happen. Eliot jumped onto the columns slowly, making his injuries obvious to anyone who cared to watch. Then, with one last look back and a slight wave goodbye, he fell into the river.
Tony jumped up and looked over the stone railing, but in the inky darkness of the early morning, he couldn’t even see the splash that he knew must be Eliot sinking to a watery grave. “Eliot,” Tony croaked in disbelief.
“Tony, we’re out of here,” Gibbs said with his usual authority but his hands were gentle as they grasped Tony’s shoulders, pulling him away from the ledge. “We have to leave,” Gibbs reiterated when he felt resistance.
“We have to get him, Gibbs! Call the Coast Guard! Call Boren! She’ll know what to do,” Tony begged, reluctantly letting Gibbs pull him down the walkway. Gibbs, for his part, remained mostly silent. He didn’t want to tell Tony that there was no way to save Eliot in time, knowing that this would cause more trouble than necessary.
“I’ll make a call,” Gibbs finally acquiesced as he pushed Tony into the passenger seat of his Mustang and slammed the door. “Ziva. Pick up Tim and get to the Jefferson Memorial Bridge. Have Tim drive my Charger home. And hurry before traffic gets bad,” Gibbs barked, sliding in beside Tony and slamming the door closed.
“On our way, Gibbs,” Ziva answered quickly, sensing the urgency. She could hear Tony ranting in the background and this spurred her into action even more than Gibbs command. “What’s happened to Tony?” Ziva wasn’t surprised to hear the click of the phone line, but she was still a bit more perturbed than usual. No matter, she figured, everything would be clear soon enough, she instinctively felt. Sparing a moment to be thankful for the cold night which found her sleeping in lounge pants, she slid into her boots and grabbed the matching jacket, snatching her keys and a scarf from where they hung near the door. “McGee,” she clipped into her cell.
“Ziva? It’s, like, four in th-“
“Be downstairs in five minutes. Gibbs needs us to run an errand.” She hung up, knowing that Tim would be waiting when she arrived. With Ziva’s driving and the early morning traffic, Tim was starting up the Charger less than thirty minutes later. After driving into Arlington and turning around, they caught the beginning of early morning D.C. traffic which meant it took nearly an hour to make it to Gibbs house. It didn’t help that drivers were rubbernecking on the ride back into D.C. since there was a cadre of officers at the site near where they’d rescued Gibbs Charger not an hour ago. Still, traffic would’ve been worse if it hadn’t been Saturday.
At five thirty, McGee and David knocked then opened the door, bearing coffee and concerned looks. “Boss?” Tim called out, not knowing what to expect.
~
Gibbs wasn’t sure what to say to Tony, so he said nothing. He listened to Tony ramble about Eliot’s daring escapes, how Eliot was an Army Ranger a lifetime ago, before he was for hire. There was just no way, Tony rationalized, that Eliot could be lying at the bottom of the Potomac. No way. Tony was so certain, apparently unaware that his own insistence suggested otherwise. But Gibbs didn’t point this out. He just drove home without saying a word of doubt or support; neither seemed like it would be helpful. When they arrived home, Tony had to be ushered from the car into the house and he babbled the whole time until Gibbs found it hard to ignore. “Tony, you need to rest. All this excitement isn’t good for the babies,” Gibbs explained as he watched Tony gesture wildly and pace as Tony worked out in his mind what his eyes had just witnessed.
“What? I can’t! Not with Eliot fighting for his life as he swims the Potomac! Who’d you call? I wonder if it made the news,” Tony thought, spinning around in circles searching for the remote which he quickly spotted after two spins, stuffed in Gibbs’ dilapidated green and yellow plaid couch. Gibbs quickly plucked it from his fingers.
“It’s been taken care of, Tony. Eliot said to not try to find him or help him, didn’t he?” Gibbs reminded Tony, hoping Eliot had a chance to have his talk with Tony as he promised Gibbs he would.
“Yeah. He did,” Tony remembered, seeming to calm down. Gibbs watched as Tony stood still, almost panting, but his brain was still running in circles. He was thinking this was all expected. Eliot knew this would happen and it was probably all part of some plan. But the facts were still damning. All evidence would suggest that Eliot had drowned. It was too dark to see the splash, but Tony knew he definitely heard one and there were no signs of boats. Gibbs was almost amazed at how well he could follow Tony’s thoughts. What he couldn’t have known was that Tony stared at the bridge and the river as they sped down the beltway; there were no boats. Tony was afraid of what his rational mind told him had happened so he held on to the one fact that Gibbs gave him. “He said don’t look for him because it would be dangerous if the people after him found us. Oh God, Gibbs! What if they saw me on the bridge? They’ll track our cars and find us-“
“They definitely won’t be tracking us anywhere or have you forgotten your golden boy double tapped the shooter and took out the pilot? They…most certainly did meet a watery grave,” Gibbs assured Tony who looked like he just remembered. “Now, we’re going to relax and get some rest. What did Eliot tell you?” Gibbs asked, but Tony was distracted by a warm calloused hand that gripped his own and pulled him toward the staircase. He stopped, halting Gibbs’ progress and giving the silver haired man his patent look of suspicion. Gibbs spoke in a soft voice but it was filed with conviction when he said, “You need your rest, Tony.” There was no room for argument, but Gibbs wouldn’t just yank Tony to heel; he needed a sign first. Gibbs watched as Tony looked up the staircase then back to the downstairs bedroom down the hall beyond the living room and his heart sank. Tony didn’t want to sleep in Gibbs’ bed. Gibbs could live with passionless nights and Tony cuddling his pillow on the other side of the cold center of the bed, but if Tony didn’t even want to be in the same bed, there was no way this would work out how it should. Gibbs immediately made the command decision to get the fuck over it. It wasn’t the first time he’d been disappointed and it wouldn’t be the last. Besides, he reasoned with himself, he knew Tony wanted him; he just needed time to grieve for his friend before he could remember that and Gibbs would give him all the time he required. “You want to sleep down here?” Gibbs asked quietly in a voice that said that was okay.
“No. I-I just… I should clean up,” Tony looked honestly concerned and that made Gibbs genuinely smile. That Tony would be concerned about leaving soiled sheets in a funky room at a time like this was odd and endearing. “I should clean up,” Tony repeated, but with a certainty that said he knew Eliot wasn’t coming back and he needed to say goodbye. Gibbs saw it and had to acknowledge it.
“You will,” he replied as if the answer was obvious and pulled Tony after him up the stairs and towards the master bedroom. “After you get some rest,” he said and before Tony could grasp what had happened, he was being undressed next to Gibbs’ tall, masterpiece of a bed. He stared at the four posters of the mammoth French Provencal styled piece, mesmerized by the detail of the carving. He smiled when he recalled his one night of passion with Gibbs when they laughed about how they couldn’t move the bed. “What’s funny?”
“You made this bed, right? I mean, look at the detail; it would’ve cost a fortune, even twenty years ago on a Gunny Sergeant’s salary, but since when did you like the French? It’s really not your style, Jethro.”
It may have been the fact that the seemingly normal conversation was helping Tony fight off his shock, but part of it was certainly the way Gibbs’ name rolled so easily off Tony’s tongue. Whatever the cause, Gibbs was sharing a part of himself he gave only to family and that meant no one. “Shannon saw it. She was always decorating and dreaming of her perfect home. When I asked her about it, she said her perfect home was any house with me and Kelly in it, and it must have been true because she never got any of those things, but she was always happy.” Gibbs paused, looking at the bed before sitting Tony down. “Shoes. Socks,” he ordered. Tony’s look begged for more and Gibbs obliged walking into the bathroom. “Shannon was always changing what she wanted, but one catalog she kept all year had the pages folded at this enormous bed that she would never ask for. I would’ve given Shannon whatever she wanted, but she knew we couldn’t afford it. Hell, I couldn’t afford the wood to make it. When I was stationed at Pendleton, I knew Shannon didn’t want to leave. I bought the wood with money I was saving for a new truck and I promised her that when we came back, she would be sleeping on her dream bed. I’ll never forget the look on her face the day we came back and it was sitting here.
“She forgot,” Tony said still in his t shirt because it was a bit chilly and heat from the fire that Gibbs started hadn’t quite reached the bed just yet. He was still I his jeans because he had nothing on underneath them and Gibbs figured he could lose those in the bathroom.
“She didn’t think I had time to make it.” Gibbs smiled at the fond memory then looked at Tony who was smiling at him in. “What did Eliot tell you before he left?” He pulled Tony to the bathroom. The room was steamy and warm and Tony smelled a comforting aroma that he couldn’t quite place. Gibbs pulled Tony’s t shirt off and pushed his jeans down, baring Tony to the misty warmth of the room.
“He said he’d be gone for a long time but, if he was alive,” at this point Tony paused, but swallowed hard and continued after a few seconds, “he’d come back to get us. He said until then you’ll take care of us?” Tony repeated but it came out as a question which made Gibbs smile. This was the easy part.
“He was right, Tony. You know you and the twins have a home here for as long as you want, right?”
“’Kay,” Tony agreed warily, allowing himself to be guided into the oversized bathtub filled with steaming water and bath salts. Tony realized absently as he felt the grainy granules at the bottom of the tub that Gibbs would take care of him. He sighed heavily, collapsing into the water in slow motion.
“Good. Just close your eyes.” Gibbs ordered and left the room. He went to the kitchen to boil milk for Tony and thought better of adding the Hershey’s syrup he knew Tony loved. Then Gibbs figured why not; Tony was spent enough to pass out regardless of what sugary sweet he had after all the excitement of the last hour. He sat the hot liquid on the nightstand and went to check on Tony who was obviously deep in thought. Gibbs grabbed a bar of soap and lathered a washcloth before holding Tony’s arm out and setting to work. If Tony was surprised that his boss was giving him a bath, he didn’t bat an eye. Instead, he asked a dozen questions, most of which Gibbs ignored with studious attention to cleaning behind Tony’s ears and between his toes. Tony was still feeling the effects of shock from seeing Eliot killed and Gibbs planned to take full advantage.
“Boss, what if he was too hurt to swim to shore? What if he bled out? It looked like he was hit dead on and he looked injured, didn’t he? I mean, those were automatic weapons being fired,” Tony recalled.
“Could be they got him, could be he got away, Tony. We just don’t know,” Gibbs said, hating that it tasted like a lie to him. He didn’t actually believe Eliot was still alive, but he didn’t want to break Tony’s heart when he knew there was no proof. Yet.
“I-I think he’s dead, Gibbs,” Tony sighed dejectedly and went silent. Gibbs didn’t answer. He just rinsed Tony and helped him stand then step out of the bath. He dried Tony with plush towels that Tony recognized as his own then dressed him in loose sweats and a soft NIS t shirt. Gibbs sat Tony down on his bed where the covers were already turned down and handed him the warm chocolate milk which Tony sipped with a decadent moan as Gibbs tucked the sheets and comforter around Tony’s waist retrieving the mug that Tony held out like a silent offering. The sun was just rising and Gibbs rose to draw the blackout shades just as he heard the knock at his front door and a holler. “That’s McGee. You called McGee?”
“To get my car. Stay here. I’ll send him home,” Gibbs ordered, knowing Tony probably wouldn’t last sixty seconds upstairs while Gibbs kicked McGee and David out. He hustled downstairs, holding his hands out for the keys. “Thanks Tim, Ziva. I’ll-“
“Coffee.” Ziva said, motioning to the steaming brew McGee held out silently. For a moment, Gibbs was sidetracked by the heavenly aroma as his body craved the caffeine rush he so needed.
“Thanks,” he sighed, grabbing the cup without a thought and taking a scalding sip.
“How is Tony? He sounded a little out of it.” Ziva demanded, circling around Gibbs and working her way into the house. She checked the living room, making no secret of her impromptu inspection down the silent hall and into the kitchen where only the light above the stove was on.
“He’s had a long night, Ziva; he’s exhausted. Tony went to sleep. I’ll have him call you when he gets up,” Gibbs said.
“As long as he’s asleep, boss… what did happen last night?” McGee asked, looking pale and full of concern for what would make his boss leave his prized possession in the middle of the Arlington Memorial Bridge at a spot that was obviously also the site of a federal investigation. When Gibbs seemed reluctant to answer, Ziva chimed in.
“He’s sleeping in the guest bedroom?” She pointed down the hall. “I’ll just pop in and say hi-“
“McGhostly! Zee-vah! Boss, you didn’t tell me you invited Ziva. How nice.”
“Well, yeah, DiNozzo. How was McGee gonna drive his car and my car at the same time?” Gibbs sighed. So much for avoiding a collision, he thought: on to damage control. “You should really get back to bed.” There was an awkward pause where Tim and Ziva exchanged questioning glances, each wondering about the three rooms upstairs; the master bedroom, a small office, and one other they assumed was Kelly’s old room. It was always locked. Did Tony get to see the mystery room or, weirder yet, was Tony sleeping in Gibbs’ bed? And did Gibbs just send Tony to bed? At 6 a.m.? Before either could form a coherent sentence, Gibbs was pushing them towards the door as Tony waddled down the steps to reach them before they left.
“Waitwaitwait, guys. Where ya goin’? Boss, you can let them stay. I feel fine. Honest,” Tony insisted, rushing behind Gibbs who held Tim’s right shoulder and Ziva’s left arm as he herded them to the front door. Ziva stared wide-eyed at Gibbs’ hand which was bruising her arm. Gibbs almost smiled at her consternation, thinking ‘she looks like she’s about to explode. He heard Tony’s pleas but he ignored them. He would give Tony his complete attention once McGee and David were on the other side of the door. Tony brimmed over with the anger of Gibbs ignoring him, and Ziva so angry with Gibbs and McGee not paying attention to him either that he snapped. Oh, I see; you want to hide the grieving pregnant man away!” Tony ended his he snapped and all eyes turned to him. Ziva’s eyebrows furrowed where Tim’s lifted in shock. This was exactly the kind of thing Gibbs was worried about, but he was glad the secret was out. It was time. He stopped pushing his team to the door and went to make more coffee instead. He was going to need it.
Old Friends by joblo
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs is determined to accept reality but he's unprepared for the reality Tony must come to accept.