Distress

Chapter 9: Breaking a Rule

Fornell: I realize how sad this sounds, but you're the closest thing I have to a friend, Gibbs.

Gibbs: You dying or something? Okay, not dying, just some part of a twelve step program?

Fornell: Are you gonna help me or not?

Gibbs: Thinking about it.

Season 2, Ep. 5 The Boneyard

When Tony and Gibbs broke the rules they had set for themselves—and they did break them, every last one of them—it wasn't how they expected. And they did expect to, whatever they told themselves at the beginning.


Friday or Saturday night, not both, but almost always Sunday. It was kind of a surprise to Tony but he guessed it made sense. Gibbs needed a lot of alone time. And if Tony had been introspective that way, he might have wondered if Gibbs was an introvert, if maybe he needed this kind of space, or something like it, even when Shannon and Kelly were alive. But he wasn't. Introspective, that is. What he was was Gibbs-centric, so the first weekend that Tony followed up a Friday night at his apartment by casually wandering over to chez Gibbs the next night, a Saturday night, Tony knew within a half hour that Gibbs wasn't going to get any less grumpy. Just to fuck with the guy though—and because Tony was horny as hell and now irritated since he had hoped he was going to get laid—he pressed Gibbs right back against the boat, kissing him hard enough to bend his neck some and letting his fingers wander in the hollow of the other man's back. Gibbs' skin there was thin and sensitive and Tony loved the way it made the other man shiver. When he pulled away suddenly and headed for the stairs, Tony felt first triumph and then a thrill of dark pleasure when Gibbs' soft, mocking laughter followed him.

"Better than your boxing, Tony."

Tony walked back through the darkened house. Gibbs was not leaving the basement anytime soon. Before he reached the door, he could hear the scrape of chisel on wood behind him. Oh he knew there would be payback. He was counting on it.


"You know what I miss? You know what I miss?" You know what I miss?" Tony thought about getting their attention by bouncing a balled up piece of paper off McGee's head, or making a paper Air Force 1 to fly into Kate's No Fly Zone, but this was more fun. Or, more annoying anyway. "You know what I miss? You know what I miss? You know what I miss? You know what I miss?"

"What, Tony?!" McGee and Kate said in unison, equal in irritation, both glaring at him from their desks.

"Oh, did I say that out loud? Well, since you asked, I was thinking about how much I miss really good video games. Like Pong. Or Missile Command. Combat. Space Invaders. Pac Man."

McGee, despite his irritation, couldn't help himself. "You know, Tony, you can get emulators for all of those games. Here, let me show you."

Tony didn't really care about the games. He had always had a hard time sitting still, preferring to be outside playing around than to be inside. Movies were a different story. Other worlds to escape to after dark, when he was alone or all but alone in the house.

In any case, a long day looking through records and files without a single break or lead to take into the field and he could feel the tension building in the bullpen. Gibbs, fortunately, was at a meeting much of the morning and was now with the Director. It was only Thursday but he had snapped and snarled at everyone today; his presence wouldn't have made the hunt for a lead any easier.

As McJoystick tapped away at Tony's keyboard, complaining happily as he sorted through the best emulators—whatever they were—Tony waved jauntily over at Kate. "You know what else I miss, Kate?"

Kate's expression was sour, but she didn't just look up, she put down the papers she was pouring over, sat back in her chair and stretched. "Your big boy bike?"

Tony smirked and touched his nose in acknowledgment. "Nope. Although it was a pretty sweet ride. Huffy." He pretended to get lost in a dreamworld. Kate laughed.

Just then, McGee crowed. "I knew it!" With a flourish, he stood. "There you go, Tony. As good as the original. Pac Man. Although I was always partial to some of the early graphic adventure games like Myst or, though they were before my time," Tony rolled his eyes at Kate, miming non-stop talking as McGee barrelled on, and his grin widened when Kate actually smiled back, "text adventure games, like...well, Adventure, was the earliest. Still around today actually—"

"McGee, what does this have to do with the dead petty officer?"

"Uh, nothing, Boss, Tony was just—" McGee practically leapt out of Tony's chair and was back in his own, pulling up the few new details he had been able to pull on the victim's financial life.

"Kate?" While Kate rattled off her news, Tony snuck a glance at Gibbs. Tense. If he didn't know better, he'd say there was something more here than the dead petty officer. But he did know better. If something else was going on, Tony would know. His sources were impeccable.

Gibbs didn't twitch or glance away from Kate as he barked at Tony, "What are you looking at, DiNozzo!?'

"Nothing, Boss." Tony answered automatically. "I was just thinking how smart it was for you to wear that coat today. Chilly out. And coffee too. Takes the edge off. Brrr." Finally his vamping had some effect and Gibbs glanced over. Kate had realized something while she was speaking and was bent over her folders. McGee was engrossed in geekery. And Gibbs was looking at Tony.

Tony expected the hard stare. Exasperation at best.

Instead, Gibbs looked bleak.

Tony blinked and stood a little straighter in surprise. Tipped his head just a little and narrowed his eyes at Gibbs. What?

Gibbs didn't answer in any way, just held his eyes for a moment more, long enough for Tony to notice the pounding of his own heart and the tightness in his throat. What had happened?

And then Gibbs had turned away and there were only two more hours before the end of the day, and despite the open case, they were told to go home since they were waiting for calls and test results that wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning at the latest. Gibbs went up to MTAC as they all departed, Tony lingering to see if he could get close to Gibbs to find out more, but Gibbs included him as he waved everyone out and Tony had already checked with his best snitches and there really wasn't anything major going on here. Must be something personal. Personal? With Gibbs?

He gave it until seven before allowing himself to drive over, see if Gibbs was home. Car was in the drive, a single light on in the kitchen, but not the outside light. There was nothing welcoming about the house at all and in fact, Tony was sure for once he would find the door locked.

But he didn't. He walked in, closed the screen and inner door behind him. Living room was dark and, he could see with a glance in, the kitchen was neat and empty. Tony paced through to the door to the basement, open a crack, with light coming through. The door swung open at his touch and he didn't hear anyone moving around. Nothing. But Tony, he always knew when a room was occupied and of course, he could feel Gibbs' presence from a mile away. He slipped his shoes off, wriggled his toes and flexed his feet against the ends of his oldest jeans, and padded down the stairs slowly, defenseless. He hadn't brought food or drink. Just himself.

When he was finally low enough, deep enough, into the basement to look, his eyes went unerringly to Gibbs. Seated on a stool at the workbench, the man was leaning on the scarred surface, gazing at the tools, at nothing, glass jar of bourbon in his hand. Tony flicked a glance at the floor. Still swept clean from the last time Gibbs worked down here, so he continued across to the bench. Stood behind him, thought that this is where he was meant to be, standing behind Gibbs.

He put out a slow hand, swept his palm across Gibbs' back, rubbing in wide arcs. Gibbs didn't startle, and his head sank a little as he pressed back into Tony's touch. Tony brought his other hand up and started to gently work the knots out of Gibbs' neck and shoulders. He thought about asking Gibbs what was wrong but then figured Gibbs would tell him, if he wanted him to know.

"Shouldn't go barefoot in the basement." Harsh and low.

"I know," Tony didn't stop what he was doing and was gratified when Gibbs pressed back into his hands the tiniest bit more, "but I'm a daredevil. My fans expect it."

Gibbs allowed the the ongoing touch and Tony let the silence stretch, their breathing and the comfortable rasp of Tony's hands against Gibbs' shirt the only sounds.

Finally, Gibbs grunted. "What are you doing here?"

Tony wanted to lean over and kiss the man. Behind the ear, down the back of his jaw. Press his face to the skin of Gibbs' neck from behind and wrap his arms around him. But from the way Gibbs was stiffening and sitting up straighter, he knew it and they weren't there yet. Gibbs spun around on the stool and stood, stepping into Tony so that Tony was forced to back up and make way. Brushing by the younger man, Gibbs walked to the boat, put his hands against the side.

"Gibbs?" Tony ventured.

Gibbs turned his head. His eyes didn't give anything away but Tony could see, he wasn't drunk.

"What happened?"

Gibbs just shook his head, once. Tony didn't know what he meant by it so he just waited.

"I…" Gibbs cleared his throat, looked away, looked back, and his face wasn't quite as expressionless but Tony still didn't know what he was asking for, what he should do. He waited, sure that sympathy would be unwelcome.

"I...a friend of mine," an almost imperceptible hesitation, "died." Having gotten that out, Gibbs moved swiftly up the stairs and out of the basement, leaving Tony staring after him. Tony took the stairs two at a time, found Gibbs in the kitchen, standing in front of a cupboard.

"You want something to drink?"

"Sure." Tony answered, then asked a question of his own. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really." Tony knew that meant that Gibbs hadn't eaten recently, maybe not since lunch.

"Well, I'm hungry," Tony moved forward, pushed Gibbs aside to reach for a cupboard, "I'm pretty...sure...I saw some tomatoes in here. A ha!" He smiled a little, holding a big can. "I'll make us some pasta. You take a shower."

Gibbs looked like he would object, and Tony repeated, made it an order. "Go. Take a shower. Come back. Eat. Then we'll figure it out."

When Gibbs still hesitated, Tony put the can on the counter, took Gibbs by the shoulders and turned him, pushed him away. "Go. Take a shower."

By the time he came down, Tony had water boiling and a crude sauce bubbling on the stove. As he chopped olives, he told Gibbs a little bit about Abby's new neighbors, and any other lame gossip he could think of just to hear the sound of his own voice. Gibbs settled at the kitchen table and seemed to be listening but didn't respond. He ate everything Tony put in front of him.

"That was good, Tony. Thanks." Gibbs pushed his plate away, met Tony's eyes. "I didn't know you could cook."

Tony shrugged. "Everyone can make something. Gibbs—"

"I don't have that many friends, Tony. Not so many that I can afford to lose them." He rubbed his hands over his face, and turned his chair so he was against the wall, leaned back so that he was facing Tony.

"This friend, how'd he die?"

Gibbs said simply, "Car accident. All of fucking Desert Storm behind us and he dies in a car accident. But there it is. I only know because I was supposed to have dinner with him tomorrow night and his secretary called. He died on Monday."

Tony wanted to touch him, felt the compulsion, knew that Gibbs would feel better if he did. Knew also that he could not touch him now, not now. He pulled his hands from where they rested on the table, saw Gibbs' eyes flick down to them, but before he could tense, Tony leaned back in his own chair, pushed back, putting a little more distance between them and asked, "Tell me about him?"

And Gibbs talked. The friend had been Gibbs' platoon commander, a lieutenant when Gibbs served under him in Desert Storm. He was at Quantico now, still serving, now as the commandant of the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School. He and Gibbs hadn't lost touch over the years so much as they each knew where the other was, if they needed something. Until a couple of years ago, probably right around the time Tony joined NCIS. Gibbs stopped by his office at Quantico at the tail end of a case out there and they agreed to have dinner. And they kept having dinner, every couple of months. Until now.

Gibbs talked more and whenever he seemed not to know what to say next, Tony asked questions-about their service together, details of the missions, the man's new granddaughter. Whatever, just to keep Gibbs talking. Gibbs probably hadn't talked so much the entire month and Tony admitted to himself, he was glad to hear it. Was glad to be where he was, who he was. Not a feeling he had all that often.

When Gibbs finished the story of how Mark got his most recent appointment, he fell silent and this time, he seemed...done, somehow. Gibbs stretched out fully in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face, breathing out tiredly.

Tony rose and came around to stand close. "C'mon. Bed."

Gibbs looked up at Tony, looming over him, and made a sound, started to protest. Tony had learned something about Gibbs over the last months, however, something that gave him an edge.

Gibbs liked to be touched. He was surprisingly indifferent to how or where, too. Tony thought Gibbs would be sensitive to what even Tony would have considered traditionally feminine or male/female touching, but when they were together, his entire body was fair game: hands, feet, neck, knees, toes, the small of his back...whatever. Didn't matter. Gibbs submitted to almost any touch immediately and this softening was intensely sexy to Tony. Every time he touched Gibbs and Gibbs responded, Tony's arousal would ratchet up. Times when Tony really took his time exploring Gibbs' body, he was so hard from Gibbs' reactions that he would come within minutes of the man's hands or mouth on him. It would have been embarrassing if he didn't know that Gibbs understood, was a little abashed himself at his unconditional response to Tony.

So now, he reached down to take one of Gibbs' hands in his, wrapped his fingers loosely around Gibbs' fingers and shook a little, trying to keep his own manner light and matter of fact.

"You haven't slept much in a couple of days, even I can see that. C'mon, Gibbs. Let me...let me..." What? Tony thought. What was the end of that thought? Unsure himself, he just said, "Let me."

Gibbs heaved himself to his feet and let Tony pull him through the door to cross the darkened living room. Gibbs didn't even object to going upstairs to sleep. Tony pushed him toward the bathroom and said, "I'm going to go close up."

Gibbs looked over at him, but didn't say anything more.

Tony didn't rush, but he didn't draw it out either. He stuck the plates in the sink, the extra sauce in the fridge. He snapped the lock on the door, turned off the lights, and returned to the bedroom.

Gibbs was standing by the bureau, pulling his t-shirt off to exchange it for a clean one. Tony couldn't help but peek at the smooth skin of Gibbs' back, but kept his mind on the task at hand. As he went to take his own turn in the bathroom, Tony turned and leaning against the door frame, stated, "I'm using your toothbrush."

Hands on his belt buckle, Gibbs looked over at Tony. It was there between them. It was a weeknight. And Gibbs was not up for sex tonight. Tony only did sex. Tony never spent the night.

But Gibbs just said, "New one in the drawer."

Tony smiled, let Gibbs see the relief and gladness that he was accepting Tony's presence here tonight. Tony wasn't sure what he would have done if Gibbs had kicked him out.

Gibbs unbuckled his belt and pulled it off as Tony ducked into the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face. Never neglect your skin. When he came out, Gibbs was in bed, and the only light was from the lamp on the nightstand next to the empty side of the bed.

Tony undressed down to his tshirt and boxers, slipped under the covers, between the sheets, cool and soft from many washings.

"Want me to work on your shoulders some more?"

"I'm okay, Tony. Go to sleep."

It wasn't very late, just turned 9:30. 21:30 said Tony's inner translator to appease a phantom Gibbs. Tony turned out the light, stretched out on his back, careful not to touch. Gibbs was on his back, facing away.

Fuck it, Tony thought, and rolled onto his side, cradling Gibbs' body with his own, curling his arm around the other man's waist. Tony felt Gibbs' rib cage expand slowly and then the other man breathed out, almost a sigh, and let his own arm come to rest atop Tony's. Tony wriggled a little, just a little, to get the perfect position and then let himself drift off to sleep.


When Tony opened his eyes the next morning, he was looking at Gibbs. Or rather, Gibbs was looking at him. The man was entirely too awake, blue eyes bright and piercing. Tony was half asleep, not dead, so he couldn't help but glance down at Gibbs' lips and back up to his eyes. His head swam as he realized that within seconds his mouth and Gibbs' could be sealed together, his hand could slip into Gibbs' boxers and Tony would be holding his lover's dick. His eyes slammed shut as he tried to push the vision away.

Gibbs must have seen it all in his face, because he growled. "Don't have time, Tony. Plus it's a weekday."

And that is not what this was about, Tony thought to himself. Leave it.

To his surprise though, Gibbs leaned forward on his elbows and kissed him, lips closed but soft. Just a kiss, a single kiss, but he took his time, saying some of the things that he wouldn't say in words.

When Gibbs pulled back, it was to roll out of bed and head for the bathroom. "Taking a shower. You gonna try to find clothes in your car or are you going home?"

Tony knew he didn't have anything he needed with him and sighed. "I'm going home. See you later." The bathroom door closed on his last words and Tony couldn't help but laugh. Bastard.


But Tony didn't see him at work. When 0800 hours rolled around, he, McGee, and Kate were all at their desks, but Gibbs was not. Director Vance walked down the stairs to join them.

"Gibbs won't be in today. He said you all had assignments you were working on, but asked me to check in with you. Any questions?"

There were no questions. As Vance headed back up to his offices, Tony jumped up and ran after him. "Ah, Director?"

"Yes, Agent DiNozzo?" Vance glanced at him but kept walking.

Tony paced him and blurted out, "I was going to ask Gibbs—Special Agent Gibbs—for the morning off when he got here and since he isn't here and I really do need to go to this appointment and I have the personal time saved up and I'll be back this afternoon—"

"Fine, DiNozzo. You have to answer to Gibbs. If you think he would approve the absence, then take the time. On your head be it." With these grim words, Vance swept through the door to his secretary's office, letting the hydraulic spring close the door on Tony's face with a gentle snick.

Tony double-timed it back down the stairs and grabbed his gear. "See ya, kids. Back at lunchtime."

"Wait, what? Tony, where are you going?"

Tony didn't answer. He knew where Gibbs would be this morning and he'd be damned if Gibbs was going to be there alone.


Well alone wasn't quite the right word. Unaccompanied, maybe. Gibbs' friend had been an important man and pretty obviously, a well liked one. The funeral was a mob scene. Tony had gone back to his apartment to change into a dark suit and find out the actual time of the funeral and had entered the cemetery, joined the ranks of people in the back, just in time. He shifted a little so he could see the people gathered closest to the casket, but otherwise didn't try to get closer. He could pick out the Colonel's wife, he thought; an older relative, a young family standing nearby. There was a small group of men, most in dress uniforms but some in dark suits, stepping back from where they had carried the casket. Gibbs was among their number. Tony hadn't seen Gibbs in a suit since Pacci's funeral, and even then, just in a picture Abby sent him with her phone, what with his being on stakeout and all.

Gibbs looked good. Stoic, as always, but not cold. Gibbs always listened, was attentive to the world around him, and that translated—through body language and the curiosity in his gaze, mostly—to an unusual, but effective, way with people. He had a cop's eyes, and his curiosity was largely due to a belief that many people were up to no good. Even when not on the job, he scanned routinely for anything out of place. As Gibbs listened to the sermon, he let his eyes roam and it wasn't long before his eyes locked on Tony's.

Tony smiled in acknowledgement, widening his stance a little. Gibbs looked pleased for just long enough for Tony to register it before his brows drew down and he glared. Whoops. Caught playing hooky, Tony figured. Seemed wrong to grin and stick his tongue out at a funeral, so he settled for a small smirk. He might get in trouble, but it was worth it. Gibbs wasn't going to this funeral friend-less.

When the service was over and people started walking away or around, Gibbs crossed the lawn straight to Tony.

"Why aren't you at work?" He demanded. "I left orders—"

"I had something I needed to do. I took half a personal day."

"Tony," Gibbs growled, "it wasn't optional, when I get back, I want you—"

"Gibbs, there is nothing that wouldn't wait until Monday—"

"Not your decision."

"I had something I needed to do. I had the time. I took—"

"What? What did you need to do? Be here? Because I didn't—"

"Gibbs, I—"

Their quiet but fierce argument was interrupted by the arrival of the Colonel's wife. "Jethro, thank you for the offer, but I wanted you to know that I can ride back to the house with Matthew. I'll see you there, of course." She smiled and pressed Gibbs' arm, leaning in to him and bumping shoulders with him almost playfully. She seemed tired and sad, Tony thought, but not defeated, and her smile, though small, was genuine. "Hello," she said to Tony, "I'm Miranda Langevin. Thank you for coming." Her smile widened and she looked at Gibbs. "Jethro, is this your Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony answered for him, reaching out to shake her hand, "I am his Agent DiNozzo, ma'am. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am very sorry for your loss."

Miranda Langevin looked up at him and smiled a little more as she shook his hand. "Thank you, Agent DiNozzo—"

"Tony, please."

"Tony. We have heard a lot about you from Jethro. And I'm glad," she shot a sideways glance at Gibbs, "that he had a friend here. From the crowd, you can see that my husband knew a lot of people, but true friendship is precious. Not always easy to find, or keep. I'm glad my husband had Jethro's. And I'm glad he has yours." She stepped back, touching Gibbs arm one last time. "I'll see you at the house, Jethro. Tony, you are welcome if you—"

"He's busy, Miranda, but thank you." That earned him a tiny laugh from Miranda and she waved a little at Tony before she turned and walked away.

"Well, boss, it has been nice—" Tony started walking backwards away from Gibbs, back toward the parking lot, knowing that Gibbs would likely follow the small crowd of friends and family moving as a group in the other direction.

"Tony…" Tony turned and moved a little quicker.

"Sorry, boss, can't stay—"

"Tony!" Tony stopped but didn't turn around. "Tony."

He turned around.

Gibbs gave him a short nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Get your ass back to work."

"On it, boss." And Tony started jogging toward the cars.


One last stop before going back to the Navy Yard. One last after going back to his apartment to change again.

He winced as he walked through the door and glanced nervously down at his feet as if the slight tackiness was going to leap up and ruin the Italian leather. It is such a cliche—grouchy, loner cop having lunch in the same seedy bar every day.

He swiped a fry from the grouchy, loner cop before setting into the seat across from him, only slightly worried about what might be getting on the seat of his pants.

"Fornell, what do you see in this place?"

Fornell glanced up and pulled his plate closer with one hand, keeping the newspaper up and ready to read in the other. His eyes flicked back to it even as he growled. "Dinotzo."

Tony waited until the other man's eyes came back to his before grinning and reaching for another fry. Fornell slapped his hand away. "What do you want?"

"I was just passing by. Looked in the window and there you were. Seemed...unfriendly," Tony glanced at the plate of fries hopefully, "to not come in and say hello."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. A little sad actually, to find you sitting here alone. Like you didn't have a friend in the world. At least you aren't drinking alone. Then you'll really have something to worry about. If you go out drinking tonight, Fornell, make sure you buddy up, okay?"

Fornell's brows were furrowed and he looked a little confused. Seeing his moment, Tony grabbed a few fries as he hightailed it out of the bar.


At the buzzing in his pocket, Abby looked over at him, whites of her eyes gleaming in the dark theater. Tony stretched out in his seat so he could fish for the phone in his pocket. He turned it toward her so they could both read the flashing "Gibbs" on the screen. "Be right back," he whispered and, crouching low, snuck out of the movie theater. He pressed "talk" on the fifth ring and hurried out into the lobby.

"Yeah, boss." Tony didn't get an answer though. Instead he heard sounds that he finally deciphered as fingers and thumbs moving over the speaker of the phone and then beeps that told him Gibbs was trying to type something.

"Fornell!" He heard Gibbs yell and moved the phone away from his ear. "I am typing but there aren't any words showing up! I don't think my phone does this text thing." His last sentence was mumbled and he sounded irritated. Tony smiled.

"Gibbs!" He spoke loudly into the phone. "Gibbs!" The background noise ceased.

"Hello?" Gibbs.

"Gibbs, you called me instead of texting me."

"Aw, hell. I told Fornell my phone didn't text."

"Your phone does text. I'll show you."

"Nah, that's okay. I don't think I wanna know."

"So...what do you need?"

"Oh, yeah. I...I just wanted to say thanks. Again."

"Oh. Okay. You're welcome, I guess."

This was Gibbs' cue to hang up without saying goodbye.

But he didn't.

"Gibbs?"

"See you tomorrow?" Low, but not whispered.

Tony swallowed before he answered. "You are being social tonight. Usually that means you need a night to work on the boat. Sunday?"

Gibbs laughed and Tony could almost see him run his hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay. Sunday."

"Night, Gibbs."

Tony smiled when he heard the click of the line going dead.


Tony moaned at the feel of warm lips moving over his throat, down his neck, across his shoulder. Equally warm hands stripped him of t-shirt and boxers, and a thigh pushed between his legs even as he felt the full length of Gibbs' naked body come to rest on top of his.

"Jesus, Gibbs...ohhh...fuck—" Gibbs hand held his jaw and his mouth moved with urgency over Tony's. Gibbs' mouth was desperate and hungry, and Tony, ready to be on top of his partner, to grind hard against the already sweaty man against him, shifted and pushed to flip over...and, found himself nowhere. Flat on his back still and now with his arms pinned at his sides.

"We better work on your grappling too, DiNozzo."

Hot breath at Tony's ear, the gravel in Gibbs' laughing growl made him shiver. Or was it Gibbs' mouth moving down his body to nip and suck at his nipples? Was it Gibbs' hands, releasing Tony's wrists only to push his legs wide as he rose up in the dark of Tony's bedroom, balancing on one hand as he opened the bottle and slicked his cock the way he had learned, letting Tony listen and beg, knowing it turned Tony on more? Gibbs' arm released and he dropped flush against Tony again and Tony was moaning and reaching for his mouth even as Gibbs rolled his hips over and again, small round movements that burned and hummed. Or was that Tony? Murmuring, moaning, please Gibbs please Gibbs please. More. Now.

Over Tony, around Tony, getting closer and closer until he was pressing in, just a little and then more and deeper until Tony was filled and so close to ecstasy that he drove his body up up onto the other man's but he should have known he wouldn't have to go all the way there because Gibbs met him more than halfway, thrusting down in a surge and a rush, getting the angle just right and Tony didn't recognize his own voice saying now, Gibbs, now, please oh fuck oh fuck. Oh, fuck...me…

And the hot rush of come against his stomach and in his ass and Jesus what did he do to deserve this? He was lost in the bliss and aftershocks even as the only parts of his body he could really feel anymore were his hands, woven and locked in Gibbs', hard, where Gibbs had put them just before they came.

Gibbs slipped out of bed and Tony wanted to protest his leaving. He always left. No, that was him, Tony. He always left. Gibbs just got up early. He was still there when Tony went looking. Tony roused again as Gibbs cleaned things up and then slipped into bed against him.

"Hi." Gibbs pressed close and kissed Tony.

Tony gave himself over to the kiss, drawing it out, slipping his tongue into Gibbs mouth. Gibbs made a sound of approval and softened, let Tony take the lead.

"Hi." Tony finally answered, pulling back a little. "Thought I was coming over tonight?"

"Didn't want to wait." Gibbs threw an arm across him, lay close enough that Tony could feel him breathing on his ear and neck. He wouldn't lay on Tony's chest, and Tony hadn't tried the other way around. Seemed girly. But sometimes he wanted to. Gibbs would get close, as close as humanly possible, even though the combined heat of their bodies would drive them apart once they were asleep. Sometimes sweaty discomfort wasn't enough to keep Gibbs away, though, and Tony would wake up with the other man draped all over him.

Tony turned slightly and kissed what was in reach, Gibbs' forehead.

"What're you doing?" Gibbs protested.

"It was all of you I could reach." Tony whispered, then added, with a whine. "No sleeping over."

Gibbs was half asleep already. "That was your rule, not mine." He nuzzled closer still, pressed his lips to the side of Tony's neck and his thumb traced tiny curves against Tony's chest. "You did it first, anyway."

"But we didn't have sex."

"Doesn't matter."

"But—"

"Shhhh." Gibbs stretched up just enough to stop Tony's words with his mouth. "Shhhhh. I'm trying to sleep."

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