If it is college football, Tony rarely sits still during a game. He's what one would politely call an ?active spectator'. But I'm not that polite, so I usually just call him insane.
I have to admit I enjoy watching him more than I do the game. He's so intense, so utterly focused when it comes to his favorite teams. Green eyes glued to the screen for each play. His body swaying as though it was him running and dodging tackles. Low groans of disappointment mingled with shouts of joy. Words of encouragement or anger are thrown in whenever appropriate. He can read the play better than the announcers and knows every players name. It really is amazing to see him immerse himself so completely.
He's not nearly so engaged when it comes to professional teams---those he's content to just sit and watch, rarely commenting unless it was a particularly good or bad play. Never asked him why but I suspect it's because he still vividly remembers what it was like to play college ball, that he can still picture himself there and thinks of himself as part of the team. But pro ball was never really an option, and while he likes to watch it, he's not nearly as invested in it.
His being willing to just sit still during those games, means more often than not, I fall asleep. Sports don't really interest me, never have. So if I'm sitting down doing nothing, it's easy to just relax on the couch with Tony and nod off. This time though, it isn't just me that ends up dozing, it's him too. Given how much turkey he ate, it isn't really surprising.
I open my eyes, glancing around the room, just checking in like I have been doing about every fifteen minutes or so since the game started. It isn't something I really mean to do, but I just can't help myself. Strange place, even with Tony next to me, I don't sleep as deeply as I would be at home. Couch is comfortable enough, house is certainly quiet enough, just isn't home, and I know it.
Sammy is sleeping soundly in the recliner. He doesn't snore as loudly as Ziva, thank god. It's more like heavy breathing than outright snoring.
I remember waking up at some point and seeing Mike covering him with a blanket. He got one for me and Tony too. Lying on Tony, I am warm enough, but I appreciated the gesture enough to mumble a thank you---I think.
The volume on the TV is so low it might as well be mute. Figure Mike didn't turn it off thinking the sudden silence might wake everyone. Would have woken Tony for sure. For him, the TV is really just white noise, something he notices more when it's missing than when it's present.
From what I'm seeing on the screen, it's half time. Not sure who's winning, and honestly, I don't care. Don't think anyone else in the room does either. Not at the moment anyway.
I lay my head back on Tony's chest, enjoying the steady thump of his heart under my ear. I'd really like to just go back to sleep, but my bladder is telling me it's time to get up. Maybe Ducky is right and I do drink too much coffee. Not going to tell him that---any more than I'm likely to drink less.
I move carefully, not wanting to disturb Tony. I know it won't work this time any better than it has every time before. Not really surprised when he mumbles something indistinct, moving restlessly.
I run my fingers through his hair. I lean in to whisper, "Shh...go back to sleep."
He blinks up at me, sleepy eyed. "S'wrong?"
"Nothing." I smile at him, caressing his cheekbone with my thumb. "Just need to hit the head."
He nods, satisfied with my answer, rolling more on to his side so his back is firmly against the couch. I've noticed when he sleeps alone that he prefers to sleep with his back to the wall. An instinctive, unconscious tell. He's trying to protect himself in his sleep. Much the same way I prefer to sleep on my back or left side so my right arm is free to reach for my gun.
I pull the blanket up over his shoulder. He snuggles into it, and I can't help but smile. He always looks so sweet and innocent in his sleep. Good I know he isn't either of those things.
I place a kiss on his forehead before I head for the bathroom. There is a small half bath just off the kitchen. Doubt it's original to the house, but whoever did the remodeling work certainly made sure it would like it has always been there.
I can smell fresh coffee brewing when I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen. Mike holds up a mug and I nod. I could definitely do with a cup.
"Have a nice nap?"
"I did." I smile, breathing in the rich, dark aroma rising from the cup he hands to me. "You?"
He smiles and nods. "Nice to have a lazy day."
"Don't get too many of those," I admit with a sigh, sipping my coffee.
"Yeah, Tony's mentioned that."
Not sure if there is censure in his comment or not, but I feel a need to defend myself just the same. "I don't make him work all the time, you know."
"Oh, I know." Mike grins. "He's always been a bit of a workaholic."
I frown. I'd thought it was only since joining NCIS that he'd gotten so focused on work. "Always?"
"Pretty much as long as I've known him." Mike shrugs one shoulder. "Might have gotten a little more intense since he started at NCIS and for you." He gives me a pointed look; we've talked about the whys and wherefores of that before. "But Tony's never been one to keep regular hours."
"Does his best work at night."
"That he does." Mike nods. "He did most of his papers in college at two in the morning. Says the words come easier then."
"He does the same thing with his reports." I had initially thought his long hours were just because he procrastinated. But nothing was ever turned in late or even at the last minute. Most of his reports are in a day or two before they have to be, so it wasn't like he had to stay until the wee hours of the morning to get them done on time.
He doesn't have to put in extra hours for research on a case either, but he does. I'd gotten used to him doing it because, frankly, it freed me up to do other things. And when he was at the office, I knew where he was and what he was doing. I felt better knowing those things.
"He is putting in fewer hours since you two got together."
I grin, not needing to ask how he knows that. Tony talks to Mike a lot. He e-mails and writes the other brothers regularly.
"Putting in a few less hours myself these days."
"Good." He grins back.
I expected him to say that since it means I'm spending more time with Tony?but his next statements surprises me.
"Not good for either of you to work so hard. You should take some time and relax, enjoy yourself. Job could burn you out if you're not careful, Jethro."
Some of my surprise had to show on my face. Mike rolls his eyes. "We care about you too."
I snort. Right. That would be why half the family threatened me with grave bodily harm if I hurt Tony.
Mike's brown eyes meet mine squarely. "If it makes you feel any better, we told Tony to be careful not to hurt you either."
I blink. "We who?"
"Me." Mike sips his coffee. "Momma." He makes a meaningless gesture with one hand. "Zeke or Gabe probably will at some point."
"Why?"
"Because no one is unbreakable, Jethro." Dark eyes regard me, unwavering. "And you've got a few cracks to your credit already."
I glare at him, annoyed. "I'm not made of glass."
"Not made of steel either," Mike points out calmly. "You are all too human, my friend. And that means you can get hurt just like the rest of us."
I growl, "Why do you care?"
"You're family now," he says, very matter-of-fact, like I should have known that by now.
It leaves me with nothing to say. I mean, I could see them standing up for Tony. I expected that. But it never occurred to me they'd consider me as much a part of the family as they do him. That they would worry about me burning out on the job. That they'd actually tell Tony to be careful with me.
"Once you're formally adopted," Mike smiles, "and getting to carve the turkey is about as formal as it gets---you are one of ours." His expression sobers. "We take care of our as best we can, each and every single one of them."
I am stunned. "You're serious?"
"You thought I was joking?" Mike arches an eyebrow.
"No, but I didn't really expect--"
"No one ever does." Mike chuckles. "Surprised Dan and Carol too." He jerks his head toward the door. "C'mon. I'll show you my workshop."
I follow him more because I can't think of a reason not to. And I'm still trying to take in how I could now be considered a full fledged member of the family. That's never happened before. Ever. Four marriages and I was never truly accepted by any of my in-laws. I was always the unwanted but tolerated son-in-law, the not quite good enough father of their grandchild. And for the last three, I was eventually just the no good bastard ex-husband everyone was sure I'd become. Don't think anyone, me included, really believed those marriages were going to last.
Mike's workshop is in the large garage next to the house. He opens the door and flips up the light switch for the overhead light. I stare, unable to stifle the envy that rises up when I see the collection of tools he's got.
Along the nearest wall is a huge collection of hand tools, neatly arranged by size and purpose. The back wall held a similar collection of power tools. Some I recognize, others I don't. Arranged along another wall are several power saws and lathes.
In the center of the room there are projects all in various stages of completion. Several antique spindle back chairs look like they've recently been repaired and stained. A maple dresser that's had the paint partially stripped from is obviously waiting for Mike to finish the job. Several turned wood vases are lined up along one table, the knots and odd grains highlighted by intricate carvings of leaves and flowers. One catches my eye that is not only carved but the rim is inlaid with some sort of colorful stone that catches the light. On the table next to the vases are several small boxes made from exotic woods I only vaguely recognize. Most have been sanded, stained and polished, but a few are clearly still in process.
"I am impressed."
"Figured that." Mike laughs, and I quickly realize my mouth was hanging open. He waves a hand. "Feel free to look around. Touch anything you like."
"You sure?"
"Part of the pleasure of working with wood is being able to touch it."
I grin. I zero in on the vases and boxes. The level of detail in the carvings is amazing. And the boxes, I discover on closer examination aren't just your basic squares with hinges, but are puzzles. I spend several minutes working out the tricks to opening each one.
"Tony loves those things," Mike says with a fond smile, taking from me the one I was currently struggling with.
"Really?"
"He's the reason I started making them." Mike deftly works the sliding parts in the correct order to open it with far greater speed and ease than I expected. He offers it to me and I realize that inside is another box.
"There another one inside that one?"
Mike nods. "About six total, one inside the other."
"So is this Tony's present?"
Mike laughs softly. "No." He points to a table I'd overlooked. Whatever is on it is covered by a small tarp. I resist the urge to ask if I can see it mostly because I know he's expecting me to.
Instead, I ask, "What did you make the others?"
"I made Sammy a cedar chest. Sort of doubled as a wedding present." He looks around the workshop. "Going to have to see if I can build them a crib for the baby."
He points to the vase with the inlaid stones. "I made a larger vase like that for Zeke." He shakes his head. "Took forever to carve. Couldn't quite do the whole frieze that decorated Acropolis. Vase wasn't big enough for that. So I just went with a few of the horsemen."
I raise both eyebrows. "Acropolis?"
"Yeah, you know?the marble building on a hill in Athens."
I nod. I remember now. Sucker is impressive even as a ruin.
"Zeke was always fascinated with the architecture of the Acropolis. Not a single straight line on the building any where. Whole thing is an optical illusion." Mike shrugs one shoulder. "He was thrilled to be able to go to the British Museum a few years ago and see the Elgin Marbles in person."
"And for Gabe?"
"I refinished an old oak dresser that Gabe used when he was a kid." Mike smiles. "Of course, I added a few details."
"Like what?"
"I carved Spanish galleons and light houses into the drawer fronts." He points to the dresser I noticed earlier. "Will do the same with that one and make it a wedding present for him and Carol if I can get it finished on time."
"When are they getting married?"
"June."
"This coming year?"
"Yeah."
I make a note to ask Tony what he's planning on getting them as a gift. Maybe we could split the cost. Or maybe he can suggest something for me to get them. Wouldn't know what to get them on my own, but I suddenly don't want to be left out.
"You want to help me strip the rest of the paint?" Mike asks. "Can work on sanding a few things if you'd rather do that?"
"Would love to." I miss having something to do with my hands whenever I go more than a few days without working on the boat. It's why I kept building them after I burned the first one.
I'd gotten used to working with wood and having someone else around when Tony and I got together. But working around Mike is totally different. For one thing he doesn't actually say much. Tony usually tells me about whatever movie comes to mind, occasionally tells me office gossip, reads articles from the newspaper aloud, works a crossword puzzle, or if I'm really lucky he'll sing along with the radio. He's got a nice singing voice, but he only seems to do it when he's engrossed in something else--almost like an absent-minded habit.
Another thing different about working with Mike---he actually knows what he's doing. I know Tony is fascinated with the boat, but he shies away from actually working on it himself. I think he's afraid of making a mistake. I've told him there isn't anything he could do that I couldn't fix, but he doesn't seem convinced.
I'm not sure how long Mike and I are working when there is a soft knock at the door. Mike glances at his watch and that's when I realize just how dark it has gotten outside. We've been out here for several hours at least.
Dan peeks her head in. "Momma C sent me out. Said she's putting out the leftovers for a light supper."
"We'll be in soon as we clean up here," Mike tells her.
"I'll tell her."
I help him clean up, putting everything back where it belongs. He turns off the light when we leave. The porch light is on, bright enough for us to see our way clearly.
Tony is leaning against porch railing, smiling at us. "You two have fun?"
"We did," I tell him. "Who won the game?"
"No idea." Tony laughs. He steps close enough to give me a quick kiss. "Did he show you my gift?"
"No, he didn't."
Tony glares at Mike. "Party pooper."
"I know you." Mike points a finger at Tony. "You'd be trying to weasel it out of him in no time."
I swear Tony's eyes glow when he looks at me. And I know what he's thinking. If he put his mind to it---his whole body to it---I'd tell him anything he wanted to know. He can be very...persuasive. It makes me blush just thinking about it.
"Stop teasing the man, Tony." Mike shakes his head, looking decidedly amused.
"But I like playing with him," Tony says, pouting. Dear god, no man should look that sexy.
"Supper is waiting." Mike reminds us as he heads inside.
"We'll play later," I whisper to Tony. The delight and eagerness I see in his eyes makes me shiver with anticipation. Hopefully no one will mind if we head back to the cabin early tonight.
Author's Chapter Notes:
little more time among the family.
Chapter End Notes:
no spoilers