Buckle Up
by Matt51
Just kill me now. Please. I'll even make it easier for you. I'll reach down, release the catch on the shoulder harness that's digging in across my heaving chest, open the door, and just roll right out onto the hard, wet tarmac. All *you* have to do is just run right over me and put me out of my misery. I won't even move, I promise. I'll just lay there, like a big, grateful log in the road, and wait for the blessed relief your tires will bring. Just consider me a speed bump. Heh. Yeah, that's me. It'll be simple and quick and finally put an end to this...this...endless rollercoaster of torture I've somehow managed to get myself strapped into.
If I could only reach my weapon at this point, I'd end this myself. No, really...
The only problem is, I just can't seem to relax my right hand enough to loosen the death-grip I've got on the support handle directly above the passenger side door or uncurl my claw-like fingers from the dash before me. Oh, shit, no. I'm frozen in place, muscles seized, and, I swear, my testicles have risen so high in my abdomen, they're playing with my kidneys, trying to convince them this would be a great time to send a message to my bladder to vacate the premises. Fuck, I don't want to die in a puddle of piss but, if this *maniac* behind the wheel doesn't slow down and stay in his own lane, I'm going to find myself decorating most of the windshield, the hood, and, probably, several yards of asphalt from the bumper of this transport of terror to whatever vehicle or building we end up smashing into. It'll be a DiNozzo Dali...how appropriate. I'll be oozing and dripping all over the landscape, that for sure.
Fuck. Here comes another corner...
...and we're sliding sideways, water spraying up in a graceful arc, sending a shower of surprise onto an oncoming vehicle. I can hear the blare of the horn, getting louder as it progressively gets closer to our sedan...and to me. Yeah, my side. Wouldn't you know it? Cosmic justice and all that. I manage to flick my eyes to the right and can actually see the other driver's face through his wet windshield, his expression changing rapidly from anger, to disbelief, and, finally, to outright fear. Well, welcome to the club, asshole! You're only getting a sampling of what I've been experiencing ever since I got in and buckled up.
Shit. All I want to do is get out...
...but there's a car pulling out from a parking space just ahead and whoever's driving isn't looking and we're not slowing down. Not. Slowing. Down. Jesusgodholyshit!
I'm jerked suddenly to the right as our vehicle swerves abruptly to the left and the force of the movement is just enough that the side of my forehead taps *hard* off my raised window. The impact makes my eyes water, so I don't really see how we make it past the other car but I can hear more horns screaming and feel our forward momentum continuing and know this hellish experience is far from over.
Please...just kill me now. This drawn-out torment is worse than any experience I've had so far, botched assignments and bad dates included. Hell, *combined*. Twice.
I chance a glance over at my new boss..Gibbs...and, I swear, the guy is grinning. Not a big, shit-eating, know-it-all smile but one of those secret, little, I-know-something-you-don't-know smirks. Bastard. He's getting a real kick out of this, putting me through some kind of paces, testing my mettle, so to speak. Huh. Well, son of a bitch...
Okay. So this is a game of some kind to him, not a matter of getting to the scene as quickly as possible, but a type of sport. So, what kind? And why now? And, more importantly, why *me*?
Shit, here comes another corner and, wouldn't you know it, the rain is picking up, the drops on the windshield growing fat and falling faster and Gibbs is not slowing down. Hell, no. In fact, as we clear the turn and hit a stretch of wide open road, he accelerates, taking the sedan *well* above the posted speed limit. I'd like to relax and unclench my ass for a few moments but, instead of worrying about other vehicles or pedestrians, my mind now focuses on the potential of hydroplaning and going airborn. Shit...
"So, how you like the city, DiNozzo?"
What? He wants to chat? Now? Is he out of his fucking mind?
Okay, this is a game. I've got to keep that in mind and show him I'm willing to play, too. If I can just get my mouth to work...
"It's got potential," I manage and I don't think it sounds too shrill.
"Found a place to stay yet?"
Shit. There's an intersection coming up. Slow down, slow down, slow down!
"Um," I'm struggling now but he's *not* going to scare me away...not like this anyway. He may kill me through some catastrophic vehicular event, may send us both careening into the unknown but, damn it, he's not going to scare me...much. "Yeah."
Oh, that was intelligent and just filled with confidence but here comes the intersection...and the light is *red*! Holymotherofgod!!
Gibbs is tapping on the brake and looking left and right but continuing forward and weaving and veering and shifting and why did I take this morning to eat a big breakfast? The bile is there, just to the back of my throat, waiting to make an appearance but I will *not* spew in front of him. I. Will. Not.
We make it through, by the grace of God, and, believe it or not, his cell phone rings. I shit you not. And, instead of slowing down or, heaven forbid, pulling over, he's now driving one-handed, casually conversing with someone named Beverly and talking about canceling a date or something and all I can think about is yelling, 'I'll blow you myself if you just let me out of here!'
Huh. Where the hell did that come from?
I peel my eyes off the road ahead and glance in his direction again, hoping I didn't actually say that aloud, and am relieved to see he's still listening to Beverly. But his attention suddenly shifts my way and I'm caught in that intense laser gaze and *something* passes between us. Something that makes my stomach settle...and my chest tighten. Great. From one body part to another.
He starts to look back toward the front but, before he does, his eyes momentarily drop and I know he's looking at my crotch. I can *feel* his eyes evaluating my fabric-covered dick and, before I can control it, I'm responding. See. Another body part already.
Shit. I am *so* screwed now.
Gibbs is facing forward and doesn't see my reaction to his simple glance and, for that, I'm glad. If he had any idea I played for both teams, he'd probably find the closest cliff and push me out of this moving vehicle himself...after he unloaded his weapon into my terrified face. I'm not stupid enough to go in that direction, especially with a superior, and not after I just left my last position for something bordering along that line. I'm glad Gibbs offered me this job, happy to get away from those who were beginning to make my life intolerable, and have no intention of crossing any kind of line...sexual or not. And certainly not with Gibbs. Hell, no. He's giving me a chance for a brand new start and there's nothing that's going to make me fuck this up.
I sigh and look up and, what do you know, I'm not so nervous now. If fact, thinking about the situation I just came from and looking at the future I have now, this little indoctrination drive isn't so bad. Not really.
Okay, I can do this. I forcibly relax my fingers on the support handle and wince at the cramped sensation, flexing the digits to get the blood flowing again. See, that's not so bad. Now, if I can just get my imbedded fingers out of the dash, I'll be good. That's it. Sit back. Relax, DiNozzo...just relax. And breathe. Yeah, that'd be good, too. Breathing is a good thing...
We must be nearing the location of the crime because we're gradually slowing down. Even the rain is letting up now. Huh, would you look at that: the clouds are starting to break up a bit over toward the East and we may even get to see a bit of sun this afternoon. That'd be nice.
"So..."
Gibbs is speaking and the tone is kind of different and, when I glance back his way, I see he's no longer talking on his phone. Oh, he's talking to *me*...not Beverly. Okay...
"I'm going to stop and pick up a burger. You hungry?"
Well, am I? I really have to think about it for a moment because my stomach is the last place I want to be considering at this time. Wait a minute...I thought we were going to a crime scene.
"What about the call you got in the office?" I ask him and I know my confusion is apparent on my face. When he told me to meet him at the car, I just assumed...
Okay. My mistake.
Gibbs is looking at me and I can see the devilment in those blue eyes before he looks back to the road. Well, son of a bitch!
"You...you mean there's no crime scene? No crisis we were responding to? No one needing our investigative skills?"
"Nah."
The smug bastard *is* smiling now and all I want to do is lean over and...
...okay. We are *so* not going there. I study him for a moment and I think he really expects me to be upset, to make some big, hairy deal about the ruse, to rant and rave and moan and groan and...well, there's no way I'm going to satisfy his expectation on that account. No way. No how.
So, I'll play. Watch me now. Smooth and easy, DiNozzo...smooth and easy.
"Sure. A burger sounds good."
He jerks his eyes so quickly back my way they almost seem to pop out the sides but, to his credit, he merely nods and grunts and looks away. Good. Surprised you, didn't I?
We take a few minutes locating a place and go in and eat a quick lunch. I have to gag mine down but there's no way I'm going to appear weak in his eyes, even over something as trivial as food. No way. But the thought of getting back in that car with him on a full stomach is playing havoc with my insides. As we leave the burger joint, Gibbs tosses the keys to me.
"Think you can find your way back to the office?"
I'm surprised, to say the least. I grin and, as he settles in the passenger seat and I get behind the wheel, all I can think about is payback. I turn the key in the ignition, cast my eyes his way, and smile.
"Better buckle up, Boss."
Oh, yeah...payback is not hell...it's heaven.
End
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs takes his new agent, Anthony DiNozzo, for a little ride.