~
Tony woke to a pain in his side and a tangle of limbs. The bed was warm and cozy, and he didn’t want to wake Gibbs, but he needed to get to the bathroom and he couldn’t wait. He rolled forward, pushing at the legs and arms enclosing on him like a vice. Gibbs’ arms fell away, only to reach out for Tony’s belly and then it was too late.
“Oh…please, no,” Tony whispered, grabbing himself and wondering what happened to his sweats as urine threatened to trickle through his fingers. He threw himself out of bed, rolling to the edge and forcing himself to ignore the cramp in his side as he limped across the room to the toilet. When he made it there his thighs and feet were wet and he was sure he’d left a trail from the bed. “At least it’s hardwood and tile,” he grimaced, glad the toilet seat was up as he reached for the wall with one hand.
“Tony?” The questioning tone sounded harsh then Tony remembered he probably shouldn’t be touching the wall.
“Sorry, boss.”
“For what, Tony? You’re pregnant; the head is never close enough,” Gibbs said, not worried about the trail Tony left to the bathroom. “It sounded like you were in pain. Are you alright?” Gibbs gave Tony a few seconds to answer, but the red faced man remained quiet, shrugging his shoulders. Tony had already finished, but he stood there looking at his hands in disgust and embarrassment. Gibbs sighed, knowing how meticulous his love could be. Then he remembered how Tony suppressed memories of being bullied as a child. It made Gibbs angry to realize the abuse was so bad Tony had to reinvent himself, to know that Tony had no parental guidance and had to learn everything on his own. He was probably a really odd kid, Gibbs smiled to himself as he went to the shower stall and put the shower head on the heavy assault that Tony loved. He grabbed Tony’s wet hand without hesitation and led him across the room. Gibbs pulled Tony under the water, ignoring Tony’s wet face and the fact that he wouldn’t look Gibbs in the eye. It didn’t matter. Gibbs made quick work of washing Tony and himself then rinsed off, leaving behind a soapy, sullen Italian in the steaming stall. “Relax. I’ll be back.”
Tony stood under the pelting water feeling ashamed. He hadn’t wet the bed since he was five…well, eight, but that was his first year at boarding school and things were pretty rough that year. The old memories flooded back and suddenly Tony was remembering a dozen mortifications he’d worked hard to forget. He realized he was sobbing and couldn’t remember how long he’d been in the shower. He wondered why Gibbs was helping him in the first place. Tony reasoned that Gibbs must’ve wanted him there and really didn’t seem to like Eliot from the first moment they met, according to Derek. It made sense that Gibbs was jealous and he certainly did seem to want to take care of Tony. Still, Tony couldn’t stop thinking that he was a burden to Gibbs despite how supportive the old marine was being. Gibbs would always have his six, Tony knew that. Maybe that's all it was, just his biss being protective. Nah, Tony thought, rmembering the hot sex which, admittedly, was rare, but the intimate contact was daily, so that had to be something, he convinced himself. Even while he was trying to forget about Eliot, Tony wanted Gibbs. He just couldn't believe that the old marine wanted him too.
“Crap!” Tony hissed, remembering the mess he made. He cut off the water and was startled by the door opening to a robed Gibbs holding a towel open for him. Tony remained silent as Gibbs patted him dry and even rubbed the udder butter on his belly, even though he rolled his eyes when Tony told him what it was. “You’re using the udder butter.”
“No. You’re using the udder butter; I don’t mind the stretch marks.”
“You mind the peeing in the bed like a little kid?” Tony challenged him. He could smell the lemony freshness of the cleanser Gibbs used to clean up after him and he felt horrible. “I’ll get the sheets, Gibbs.”
“The only thing you’ll get is in bed and no, I don’t mind one bit. Besides, I think you’ll be quicker next time,” Gibbs’ voice held enough laughter to make Tony feel like it was going to be alright. He let the older man lead him back to bed where the sheets had already been changed and the bed was turned down. “Shannon always told me I was too grabby towards the end of her pregnancy. She said I would never let her leave the bed. Believe me,” Gibbs explained, patting his chest as he pulled up the fresh covers, “it’s not my first accident.” Tony obediently leaned forward and used Gibbs chest as a pillow. He wrapped his arms around Gibbs and tangled their legs back together just the way he liked them and sighed on his way to sleep.
“Mmmnnn. I like this,” Tony mumbled.
“Good.”
“Almost as much as I like that thing you did…the second time. You think we could do that in the morning instead of-“
“Sure, Tony, but we do the other too; wouldn’t want you to get off schedule.”
“Jethro?”
“Go to sleep, Tony.”
“’Kay, It’s just…nothing, boss.”
“Spill it, DiNozzo!”
“Canyouslowdownandtalktomeinthemorning?” Tony whispered, but Gibbs heard it loud and clear.
“You want to cuddle through the afterglow too, DiNozzo?” He joked.
“That’d be nice.”
“No problem. Now sleep,” Gibbs demanded with a playful spank to Tony’s ass then he gave it a firm squeeze as he went back to sleep. Seconds later Gibbs felt Tony rubbing himself against his thigh. This time the rough slap was serious. “I said sleep.” Gibbs’ words stung almost as much his hand.
“Yes, Jethro.”
~
When Tony arrived at the office, he was in an exceptionally good mood. He’d had great morning sex and convinced Gibbs to let him drive to work even though he hadn’t been allowed to since his back started giving him trouble the week before. So what if he had to wake up twenty minutes earlier than usual and Gibbs was still a little peeved by the way he skid out of the driveway, laughing as he waved to Gibbs and old Mrs. Bledsoe who was less startled than her Chihuahua, Peppers who jumped into her Hoveround basket. He sauntered in with his cup of hot chocolate and grin.
“You look happy, Tony. You are feeling much better, I hope.” Ziva said, not really asking a question. Still, Tony could tell by the way she looked at him that she demanded an answer.
“I feel great, Ziva. Thanks for noticing.”
“That’s great, Tony. It’s been a while since you were in good spirits. Glad to see you back-“
“You all better get back to work! We got a dead officer on the hill. Let’s go.” Gibbs barked. Tony was glad he wore a suit.
It was at the loading dock that they found the body. Apparently the chef, a reservist, had been poisoned as he tasted the breakfast to be served in the congressional banquet hall. A peace summit was being held and the whole party was scheduled for breakfast on the hill; he wanted to make sure everything was perfect.
“It was a good thing he tried the gravy; apparently it was lethal,” Ziva explained to Gibbs as she stepped over the dead cook, careful to avoid his bodily fluids. Tony was sketching while McGee dealt with the witnesses.
“Boss, everyone is accounted for. As soon as I get the surveillance I’ll double check it and see if we find,” McGee said, dialing security again. “Where are my files, officer?” He asked with steel in his voice that made Gibbs smile. This would be a quick job. These days it seemed there was little for him to do besides supervise and he was glad for the moment when he looked over and saw DiNozzo dancing as he cracked jokes and snapped pictures.
“Would you stand still, Tony!” Ziva ordered. Niether one noticed Gibbs’ approach.
“Hit the head, DiNozzo.”
“What? I’m fine, boss. I’ll stop dancing.” Tony promised just as he came across the chef’s soiled slacks and vomit covered face. “On second thought,” he held the camera out and Ziva took it, as Tony turned green and scampered off.
“That’s not the way to the bathroom.” Ziva murmured.
Crap, thought Gibbs.
~
The bathroom had been a close call, but Tony still lost his lunch all over the floor and ruined one of the few suits he still looked good in. He wore scrubs the rest of the day and complained about his favorite pinstriped Zegna shirt and his new tie he just found at Saks. The case seemed easy enough once they got the video files and saw that the only person to add anything to the pot of gravy was Lieutenant Ashford himself from a small bottle of spices he pulled from his pocket. After tasting the gravy, he began to foam at the mouth then he fell to the floor and died.
“According to Abby, its ground up GHB,” Ducky explained, a bit puzzled.
“GHB?” Gibbs asked, more than a little annoyed after listening to Tony bitch about his clothes all morning.
“Gamma hydroxybutyrate, but I can’t fathom how it got in his personal spice jar. Someone had it in for him, no doubt, Jethro. The question is, who had access to GHB?”
“Where do you find it, Duck?”
“I suppose you’d get this ‘date-rape’ drug from a drug dealer, Jethro. As you know, GHB has been banned by the FDA since 1990. It’s now only used for the treatment of a few sleep disorders. Most likely, this was manufactured illegally.”
“I see.”
“No, Jethro, I don’t think you do. He only sprinkled a small amount of spices into the pot before tasting it. The compound had to be very concentrated for it to have taken effect so suddenly and violently. Whoever did this made sure they got the Lieutenant.”
“And they didn’t care about who else they might have gotten.” Gibbs said, walking out of autopsy.
By the end of the day, Tony was back in good spirits. His cleaners had assured him the clothes he dropped off were in mint condition and ready to be picked up. He called the murderer as soon as he found out the wife was a pharmacist and she was in custody by the end of the day. Gibbs broke her as usual and by 0700, they were typing up their reports and tying up loose ends. Tony was his talkative self with his feet kicked up on his desk and his chair tipped back precariously.
“It’s always the wife. Or in this case, the soon to be ex-wife. Am I right or am I right? It’s really too easy, guys.” Tony rambled on until he felt a familiar head-slap jerking him upright, overbalanced and nearly fell out his chair.
“That’s no position for someone in your condition, DiNozzo!”
“Yes, boss.”
“And you are officially on desk duty,” Gibbs added, quieter so that McGee and David barely heard him. He dropped the official paperwork on Tony’s desk and walked away, putting an end to the conversation. Tony was in shock. By the time he was ready to argue, Gibbs was on his way to autopsy.
“Desk duty!” Tony hissed.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” McGee offered.
“It’s desk duty McGee, not the wrong drink from the vending machine!”
“Don’t take your frustrations out on us, Tony. We did not put you on desk duty. Besides, you cannot expect to find a port-a-potty at every crime scene for you weak bladder and your weaker stomach,” Ziva teased, making Tony seethe with anger.
“I’m sure what Ziva means,Tony, is that you only have a few weeks left and we want you to be as safe and as comfortable as possible. Any day now your back will hurt and your feet will be swollen and you’ll be having false labor pains… you should really take it easy for the last three or four weeks.”
“It’s desk duty, McGee! Stop trying to make it sound good. You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he snapped, stomping off to find a sympathetic ear.
Old Friends by joblo