“He’s got a point you know,” Gibbs handed Tony the seatbelt buckle and closed the door, opening the back to let Rufus jump up. Tony’s observation continuing after Gibbs climbed into the driver’s seat. “Most Marines are obsessed with the male body.”

“Did you learn anything?” Gibbs interrupted, taking the buckle back from Tony’s fumbling and connecting it with a solid snap.

Tony smiled. “Well that one guy gave me more information than I’d ever care to know on CBT. Think it was something to do with the dog collar. You know, I wonder about Abby sometimes.”

“Dinozzo.”

Thankfully, the tonal reprimand served to put the younger agent back in reporting mode. “Well, our dead duo was occasionally two-thirds of a threesome.”

“Got a name of the third?”

“Probably not of the easily traceable sort. Some guy that likes to call himself ‘Suicide Blond’. Regulars said he hadn’t been around in a while.”

“Suicide Blond,” muttered Gibbs, repugnantly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, boss. You didn’t punch out the professor. Seemed like a nice guy.”

Tony wasn’t sure if the sound Gibbs made was a sniff of disdain or a disbelieving snort. “You think I don’t know how to handle myself undercover?”

“Most weapons dealers don’t ask if you want a blow job in the backroom. Unfortunately, at least, not the ones I’ve met. Figured it wasn’t something you were used to.”

“You might be surprised,” returned Gibbs.

He relished the resultant silence coming from the passenger seat as they covered the remaining blocks to the house.

~oOo~

“Hey.” Gibbs had thought Tony was still trying to figure out what to make of his last comment, but when he pulled the passenger door open he found the man was actually on the edge of sleep. “We’re here.” He reached over and unlatched the seat belt as Tony rubbed at his eyes.

“Come on,” he continued, coaxing Dinozzo to turn. He noticed Tony had to lift his left leg with his hands to manage to twist and sit on the side of the seat.

With a slight groan, Tony anchored his hands on either side of the open door and tried to push himself to his feet. Rufus pressed forward as if he could help, but even Gibbs’ quick hand under his arm wasn’t enough to make up for his rapidly wearying strength.

“Fuck,” he murmured quietly to himself as he sank back down.

“Here, give it another try.” Gibbs bent down and caught him around the waist, bringing Tony’s arm over his shoulder.

In a moment they were successfully standing and eyeing the front steps warily.

“Come on,” prodded Gibbs again and got them both moving, Rufus trailing behind them.

He assaulted the stairs with tactical precision, fixing Tony’s hand around the right-hand railing and practically lifting him up each riser while Tony tried to keep his balance.

Manhandling him, Gibbs managed to get the door open and he continued to support him to the bedroom that had once been Gibbs’ own.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Tony as he collapsed on the bed. He flopped awkwardly on his side, his feet still tangled on the floor, and curled into himself.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Gibbs sat next to him and, leaning down, untied the shoes. He lifted the dead weight of Tony’s legs to the bed. “You probably just overdid it a little”

‘Yeah,” Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thanks.” He rolled further into the pillow. “Think I’ll just sleep with my clothes on.”

“Okay,” agreed Gibbs, patting his back.

He got up to leave, stopping long enough to turn off the lamp. But Tony’s soft entreaty made him turn back toward the bed.

“Hey boss?”

“Yeah, Tony.”

It was that oddly gentle tone and Tony opened his eyes enough to get a blurry view of the man beside him.

“I’m surprised you weren’t surprised.”

“Go to sleep, Tony.”

Part 18

Gibbs was a little surprised to find Dinozzo up and dressed for work by the time he’d stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee.

“Thank God for timers,” mused Tony good-naturedly as he listened to Gibbs inhale his first cup. “I can’t imagine what you did without them.”

Gibbs noted Tony’s own half-filled mug. “You should talk.”

Now that the first burst of caffeine had chased away at least some of the fog in his brain, Gibbs could see that Tony had looked … better. At least he didn’t look as ragged as he had the night before, but his eyes still looked tired, the skin under them slightly purpled.

The cane Tony had used temporarily after the beating had made a reappearance, too. Although Tony slid it surreptitiously from his view.

“You okay this morning?”

The question was met by the usual dismissive wave. “Just fine.” Tony cocked his head, doing some studying of his own. “You?”

“Fine.”

“Oh,” said Tony, looking unconvinced. “Good.”

~oOo~

The cane had disappeared by the time Dinozzo limped to the car, leaning more heavily than usual on Rufus.

Gibbs opened his mouth to suggest Tony take a few hours, come in later, but Tony shot him a kind of precognitive don’t-even-think-of-saying-it look and he shut it again.

Gibbs was vaguely aware that Tony had chattered the entire fifteen miles to the office but, later, he realized he hadn’t heard a word the other man had said. Although he was pretty sure he’d grunted in most of the right places.

After that he’d gone one way, to a meeting with the combined task force committee, and Tony had gone the other, limping with painful slowness.

Gibbs was pretty sure he’d heard very little of what was said in the meeting either.

It was something of a relief to go downstairs and find Tony again surrounded by an attentive crowd, only this time it was the entire rest of the staff haunting his desk. For once not scattering them, Gibbs took a seat at his own workstation, doing a little quiet, covert eavesdropping of his own.

“So it could be a love triangle,” surmised Kate.

“Could be a square,” put in McGee, making Gibbs think again that the young agent was spending far too much time with a certain lab technician. Thinking non-linearly had its place but one Abby was quite enough. “The wife’s still alive isn’t she?”

“Ewww,” Abby screwed up her face. “A threesome is pleasantly kinky. A foursome is like a travel-sized orgy.”

Gibbs had to keep from smiling as you could hear McGee draw in a sharp breath.

“Could I see you?”

This voice was much closer but Gibbs didn’t look up. “You’re seeing me, Duck.”

“Privately,” he clarified.

Gibbs did look up at that. “Something about the case?”

“Liken it to doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

The ME inclined his head in Tony’s direction.

“Oh,” said Gibbs softly.

~oOo~

By the time he escaped from Ducky’s clutches, Tony was alone, squinting with difficulty at the screen in front of him. Gibbs watched him a moment before he leaned over. “Tony.”

The object of his examination startled then smoothed the frown from his face. “I think I can find him.”

The first fifteen minutes of the ME’s lecture had been about inadequate computer support and it was spiced with so much technical mumbo-jumbo that he knew it had to come from Abby or Kate or McGee or possibly all three in concert. Anyone but the practically computer-phobic Englishman. Although the vague threats about reporting violations of the ADA were probably Ducky’s own.

Even now the scolding was still ringing his ears. There was something about a lecturing Ducky that always made Gibbs feel like he’d been dressed down by a commanding officer. If Dinozzo had said he needed a new computer he would have gotten him one in a heartbeat. Only Dinozzo hadn’t said anything.

And what was Tony talking about anyway? “Who?”

“The third member of our trio.”

Gibbs sighed. “You want to go back to the bar.”

That had been the second fifteen of Ducky’s address. That somehow he’d misunderstood Ducky’s admonition about letting Tony try to keep on working on and apparently the ME had only meant in the safest possible conditions. “Let’s give it a couple of days.”

Tony squinted, this time, as if it were Gibbs he was trying see clearly. “Since when did you put the brakes on a case?”

“I’m not putting the brakes on the case.”

Tony closed his eyes. “I knew it. I knew you were going to be uncomfortable.”

Gibbs leaned in, lowering his voice. “I was telling the truth last night. I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

Dinozzo pressed his lips together. “Then what’s this about?”

“Ducky came to see me.”

“Oookay.”

“You need to take it easy.”

Dinozzo finally opened his eyes, but he wouldn’t look in Gibbs’ direction. “He ratted me out, didn’t he?”

“He just suggested that you might be overworking a little. He also said your doctor suggested—“

“He ratted me out,” confirmed Tony.

“Okay, he ratted you out. By the way, I’ve put in a requisition for a new computer with voice recognition.”

This last piece of information transformed Tony’s soft replies into a decided hiss. “I’m fine Gibbs. I don’t need special treatment.”

“We’ll get you what you need to work. Whatever you need to work. But you gotta keep me in the loop here. If nothing breaks on the case in a couple of days, you can go back to the bar.” Gibbs paused. “Provided you do what your doctor says.”

“I hate this,” muttered Tony.

Gibbs found himself putting a hand over the one worrying the keyboard aimlessly.

“I know.”

Tony sat perfectly still for a long moment, then he disentangled his hand.

Gibbs hunkered down beside the desk, his own voice even softer now. “I need you to talk to me about this.”

“Because you’re my boss,” acknowledged Tony. “I know I haven’t exactly been playing fair, here. I just…”

“If the only way I’m going to get you to tell me what you need is as your employer, I’ll take it. I can demand it, and will, but only if I have to. I’d rather you just tell me.”

“There’s a ‘you’ somewhere in there, boss?”

Neither of them could muster the energy to make the weak attempt at banter work.

“Somewhere.”

Tony nodded and sighed. “You want to do it here?”

“Only if this is where you feel most comfortable.”

“I could go for your couch.”

Tony felt the touch on his hand and held himself remarkably steady as Gibbs’ warm fingers clasped his own.

“It’s a date.”

A weak but reassuring grin crossed Tony’s lips. “For God’s sake don’t let Kate hear you say that. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

The warmth encircling his hand briefly tightened, then his fingers were released with a brotherly pat.

“See you at five.”

Tony flexed his now chilly fingers. “’kay.”

Part 19 “Abby … would you mind?”

The lab tech looked from Tony to Ducky and back again. “Um…”

“I’d like to talk to Ducky, alone,” Tony clarified, tightening his grip on Rufus.

“Go on, Abby,” soothed the ME. He hooked a hand on Tony’s elbow. “Come into my office.”

Tony’s gait was uneven and he leaned unconsciously into the solid grip. Even while supporting him, Ducky observed with a physician’s eye.

“Thought we had an agreement.” Dinozzo didn’t sound angry so much as … defeated.

“I did not break your confidentiality, Anthony. I merely had a few words with Jethro about the … disservice he is paying you.”

Tony frowned as he settled in the chair, Rufus plopping warmly onto his feet. “What disservice?”

“There are things which can make life easier; equipment that you need to function. It is the Navy’s duty to provide them. I merely pointed this out.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No.” Ducky crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of his desk, still observing the man before him. “But you should. It is a small … adjustment, not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty big thing to me.”

~oOo~

“Beer?”

Gibbs swung the bottle enticingly in front of Tony who reached out for it, his fingers missing the cold glass narrowly before he finally managed to fix on it.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he said, taking a deep swallow.

“So …” began Gibbs when the silence stretched out uncomfortably.

“So,” repeated Tony.

“So, why don’t I start?” Gibbs offered. “What would you like to know?”

“What would *I* like to know?”

“As you said, I’m not exactly … gregarious.” Gibbs took another swallow of beer. “So, go for it.”

“How are you going to get the ship out of the basement?”

Gibbs choked. “That’s your question?”

“It’s been bothering me. I mean you have this huge…” Tony’s hands spread wide, ‘…honkin’ huge thing with ribs and you’ve got a door you can barely get yourself through.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I’ll take it out the 20-gauge steel sectional door.”

“You don’t have a 20-gauge steel sectional door.”

“I get the boat done and I’ll get one.”

Tony laughed, closing his eyes and keeping them closed.

“My turn. You do that a lot. Does the light hurt your eyes?”

“Uh,” Tony scrubbed a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s just a bit disconcerting because I really can’t focus on much of anything, so after a while I just …”

“Shut it out?”

“That’s one way to explain it.”

“But that’s not what Ducky thinks you need to tell me.”

“Ah … no.”

Gibbs waited but Tony was clearly not in a forthcoming mood.

“So you listened to me,” he observed, finally breaking the growing silence himself. “You talked to Ducky.”

“I always listen to you, Gibbs.” Tony’s hand groped for the abandoned bottle and Gibbs pushed it into reach. Tony took a long drag of the amber liquid before pointing out, “I can even repeat the twelve Marine rules, remember?”

“There were twelve of them?”

“So you said.”

Gibbs laugh was deep and warming.

“You are a bastard, you know that?” observed Dinozzo.

“Never denied it.”

Tony took a deep breath and, again, Gibbs … waited.

“The doctor thinks it’s time to think about a wheelchair.” Tony’s brief smile was patently faked. “Just for ‘long’ journeys, you know. Anything over, say, forty feet.”

Gibbs took a moment to compose himself. It made a certain amount of sense: Tony could live with the dog, the brace, the weakened sight, but this particular suggestion would be what threw him. He knew Tony used his height. Occasionally even lording over him or Ducky. It was the primeval ethos of the playground. The game of who’s bigger, who’s stronger. If you couldn’t measure dicks in public, you could at least compare how far you made it vertically.

“You can still walk.”

Dinozzo ducked his head down and wouldn’t look back up. “She thinks I’m headed for a big, ugly fall.”

“Screw her,” resolved Gibbs decisively, not liking the way Dinozzo had turned inward, his head still down, his shoulders slumped.

“What?”

“You heard me. Screw her. What does she know? Besides, if you fall I’ll be there to pick you up.”

The reply came out mixed with a sound that could have been a laugh, or a hastily strangled sob. “You will?”

“Sure,” replied Gibbs as if it were self-evident.

At least Tony shifted stiffly against the sofa back, uncurling a little. “Exactly why am I here, Gibbs?”

“Told you the first time.” Gibbs leaned over and tapped Tony’s cheek. “I’m a sucker for pretty faces.”

“Not sure how I make that category, boss.”

“Stop calling me ‘boss’, Tony. It makes what I’m about to do … disconcerting.”

Tony blinked. “What are you about to do?”

“This …”

Gibbs framed the face before him in his hands and leaned in slowly, giving Tony time to compensate for the lack of clear visual cues. His thumbs brushed lightly over rough cheeks and the first contact his lips made was welcomed softly. The resistance he met as he pressed further forward was that of a strong, male body, a pleasure he’d not permitted himself in a long, long time. And this was sweeter, deeper than the brief encounters he usually allowed himself. This was Tony with all his odd mix of strength and vulnerability.

Tony made that sound again, the one Gibbs wasn’t sure was a laugh or a cry, before he dove forward, his weight wedging Gibbs against the arm of the couch.

The horizontal dance bound them in a shared rhythm. Tony had his eyes closed again, his hands tangled in Gibbs’ short hair. And, this close, Gibbs couldn’t focus either, so he let himself drift on sound and touch: the soft, short pants that Tony made; the feel of warm, muscular hands moving down to lift his shirt and scrape along his ribs. The strong digits left his skin to fumble at his belt buckle and eventually a short curse was moaned against his mouth.

“Here, let me,” whispered Gibbs, arching against him while he untangled the loop of leather. When he was done he moved to undo the buttons of Tony’s shirt while the younger man braced on his arms to hold himself above him.

What was truly a laugh escaped as he brushed a palm down Dinozzo’s flank. “Ticklish?” he inquired, repeating the motion, discovering the secrets of the body held trembling above him.

“I just can’t believe this is happening.” Tony groaned as Gibbs’ hand dropped lower, cupping his hipbone.

“Believe it,” whispered Gibbs, his other hand guiding Tony downward so he could capture his mouth again. “Believe.”

Part 20

It had been … well, too long actually … since he’d woken to the warmth of another body in his bed.

Particularly one that snuggled as much as DiNozzo apparently did.

Gibbs tried to untangle himself from the body that seemed to be all limbs. Tony was softly snoring face down, one arm and a leg wrapped securely around the older man as if he thought, in his sleep, Gibbs might try to get away. The other arm was curled under Tony’s chin and he was twisted so that the other leg pressed a knee firmly against Gibbs’ hip.

Failing at unwrapping himself, Gibbs fell back against his pillow with a sigh.

“Tony.” He gently shook the nearest shoulder. “Yo, DiNozzo.”

“Hmmm?” muttered his bed-partner right before he wriggled to get more comfortable, entangling Gibbs even more.

Sighing, Gibbs looked at the glowing digits on the alarm clock. He’d gone on two hours sleep many times but DiNozzo didn’t need the stress of barely adequate rest – even if it was for a good cause.

Hell, a great cause as far as Gibbs was concerned.

Leaning down, Gibbs planted a kiss on the bare back.

“Let me up,” he instructed.

Tony groaned but laboriously pushed himself upright. “It can’t be time to get up.”

“Not for you, it isn’t,” ordered Gibbs, pecking another kiss under the fringe of bangs falling over Tony’s forehead. “That sick day you never used? You’re using it.”

“Hey, no,” Tony protested. “I’m okay. I’m …”

“Staying in bed,” finished Gibbs, sliding out of the sheets. “That’s an order.”

Tony buried his face in Gibbs’ abandoned pillow. “We’re in bed. You’re not the boss of me.”

“No, you’re in bed and, as it’s officially six a.m., yes, I am the boss of you. You’re staying.”

Gibbs knew Tony was tired or he never would have acquiesced, even with a laugh.

~oOo~

“Gibbs? Where’s Tony?”

“Yeah,” added Abby, both women crossing their arms and looking all too much like a divorce decree would shortly be requiring his signature.

“Why do you say that like I’ve done something?” Gibbs demanded, knowing from long practice it was better to take the offense in situations like these.

He got up, scooped up a file folder and tried to beat a retreat only to have his way blocked by one seriously scowling lab technician.

“I mean it Gibbs. If you did do something …”

“He’s asleep.”

Kate raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“That’s all,” he reiterated irritably. “The last few days have been a little stressful. His doctor told him to take it easy so he’s taking a sick day.”

“You’re sure you didn’t say anything?” interrogated Kate.

Raising placating hands Gibbs backed behind his desk. “Take it easy, ladies. I promise DiNozzo is fine.”

“Yeah, well …” Abby was still scowling. “We’re keeping our eyes on you.”

Gibbs gestured toward his phone. “You can call him if you want.”

“No,” declined Kate. “We …believe you.”

“Good. Then if you’re finished being DiNozzo’s big sisters, could we all go back to work?”

~oOo~

“And where, may I ask, is Anthony?”

Gibbs groaned and lowered his head with his thud against the desk.

“It was merely a question,” stated the amused ME. “When I walked by, I noticed his computer hadn’t been turned on.”

Gibbs looked up cautiously. “I’ve already been grilled by the interrogation team of Todd and Sciuto. DiNozzo’s taking a sick day. But,” he hastily amended, “he’s fine. He’s just a little tired after yesterday.”

“Ah,” said Ducky knowingly. “May I ask if you and he had a conversation?”

“He told me.” Gibbs’ voice was flat.

“It is not … unexpected. His symptoms have proven both chronic and progressive. With luck, he may reach a plateau, but …”

“I told him to tell the doctor to go screw –“

“Jethro,” admonished Ducky sternly. “You didn’t.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I did. Christ, Duck, just the thought of it was destroying him.”

“You may be able to temporarily soothe his psyche, but you cannot prevent his physical decline.”

“Give me a shot,” said Gibbs.

“Tony is not you, Jethro. He has many redeeming qualities. Your adherence to discipline, however, is not among them.”

“Give him a chance. You might be surprised.”

The ME looked unconvinced. “Do I need to go check on him?”

“Ducky …” began Gibbs irritably, only to stop when he saw the genuine concern on the other man’s face. “Fine. I’ll go check on him. Will that satisfy you? And would you try to spread the word to the other two members of the DiNozzo Protection League that I’m taking good care of their coworker?”

Ducky stepped out of the Gibbs’ path, recognizing the mission-bent look of the agent.

“I will do my best,” he murmured as Gibbs swept by, then he chuckled at the half-wave of thanks Gibbs belatedly threw in his direction.

~oOo~

“Hey.”

Tony rolled over and blinked sleepily up at the shadow blocking the windows’ noonday light.

“Hey,” he returned. “Weren’t you just here?”

“It’s lunchtime.”

“Mmm.” Tony murmured contentedly.

“Thought I’d come make sure you were alive before your concerned coworkers lynch me.”

One eye reopened. “Lynch you?”

“They’re convinced I’ve done something nefarious to you.”

“If they only knew,” mused Tony with a grin.

He threw back the sheet, revealing an enticing expanse of fair skin. Gibbs took his reaching hand and helped him pull up so he sat gloriously naked on the edge of the mattress.

He reached up to scratch his spiked hair into place. “So what’s for lunch?”

Gibbs knelt down and leaned in to capture the tempting mouth. “I’m thinking … you.”

~oOo~

Gibbs backed up, almost right back into the elevator. “I checked on him!”

“And he’s okay?” Kate pressed for verification.

“He’s fine. He’ll be back tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” disclaimed Kate.

“It’s just that we know you,” put in Abby.

Gibbs fished his cell phone from his belt. “Call him.”

When neither of his tormentors reached out for it, he flipped it open and dialed the number, pointing it in Abby’s direction. “Go ahead, call him.”

The lab tech took the cell gingerly, smiling when a familiar voice answered “’lo.”

“Tony?”

Whatever DiNozzo was saying was too low for Gibbs’ hearing, but Abby was laughing, so that was a good sign.

“Yeah, well, it’s just that we weren’t quite sure, you know.” Abby nodded into the phone. “Yeah, will do. I’ll tell him. Yeah, Kate, too.” She looked up, narrowing her eyes at Gibbs. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll play nicely, I promise.”

She handed the open line back to Gibbs. “Here, boss man. He wants to talk to you.”

Gibbs took the phone cautiously, overcome by the sudden vision of Tony as he’d left him, rumpled and sated in the tangled sheets of his bed. “Yes, DiNozzo?”

They hadn’t discussed it, how they were going to handle having two suddenly incompatible versions of their relationship, and maybe they should have, before he was standing there, holding a decidedly unsecured cell phone within hearing distance of two inquisitive colleagues.

But Tony was appropriately all business. “Any breakthroughs on the case?”

Which meant, what he’d been doing – probably since Gibbs left him – was plotting to return to a certain bar.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he found himself saying irritably, finding it, thankfully, all too easy to fall back into managerial mode. “Tomorrow, DiNozzo. Just … take it easy today, will you?”

He noticed that the protective duo had drifted back to McGee’s desk, satisfied that Tony was all right and that this was the Gibbs they all knew and … tolerated.

Which was just fine with him, he’d leave being loved to DiNozzo.

Part 21

“Told you,” said Gibbs, pointing a thumb at DiNozzo following behind him as he strode by Kate’s desk, leaving Tony to bask.

Still, he couldn’t help keep one ear turned toward the pair. The normal sibling rivalry between the two agents had mellowed over the past weeks – a victim of Tony’s weariness and Todd’s otherwise well-hidden mothering instincts.

But the day of rest had left DiNozzo feeling, he’d said, ‘almost normal’.

To which Gibbs had cheekily replied, “How would you know?” and was immediately rewarded with a smile – a real one. Not Tony’s soft, almost shy, private smile, he’d seen that one quite a bit over the past two days; but the cocky smile he’d so often bestowed on a grumbling Kate or Abby.

“Heard you cared, Kate,” Tony had the smirk down to perfection.

Gibbs felt his breath catch. He prayed Kate would know that now was not the time to do anything but adopt the same smug pose.

Kate wisely didn’t look up from her case file. “Can’t believe everything you hear, DiNozzo.”

“Can’t hide the truth, Todd,” shot back Tony, smirking triumphantly.

Kate rolled her eyes. “You live in that delusion?”

The act earned a pleased chuckle from DiNozzo. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He limped off toward his own desk, not catching the small, tightlipped smile Gibbs graced on Todd and the nod of understanding she sent back.

~oOo~

“You said if you didn’t get a break in the case I could—“

“I know what I said,” huffed Gibbs.

“Boss-” began Tony, hesitating uncharacteristically.

“Say it,” ordered Gibbs.

“‘Okay. Is this a MS-thing or a …” Tony wished he could trust that the vague, blurry hulking shapes he could see were truly empty desks and that an unseen observer didn’t lurk within hearing distance. That odd feeling of being watched still plagued him from time to time, although he put it down to the frustration of his ever-blurring vision.

“An … us thing,” finished Gibbs, knowing what caused the prolonged squinting in the direction of McGee and Todd’s desks.

“I –“ Tony reached down and tussled with the rope tug a temporarily off-duty Rufus was happily worrying. “I need to do this.”

He looked back up at Gibbs, regaining confidence. “I can do this,” he restated. “In fact you need me to do this ‘cause you’ve got bupkis.”

“Bupkis?” repeated Gibbs.

“Yiddish for ‘nothing’, though the spelling can vary. The literal meaning is ‘goat droppings’.”

Both men started as the medical examiner and his erudite explanation appeared seemingly from out of nowhere.

“One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, Ducky,” groused Gibbs, rubbing the left side of his chest pointedly.

“Yes, well, then you’ll be lucky there’s a physician nearby.”

~oOo~

“Uh uh, I agreed you could go and you agreed that we’re wiring you. So sit,” directed Gibbs, not releasing the hold on Tony’s arm until he was settled on the rolling chair. “I’ll be in the back booth and McGee will be in the van.”

“Okay. Fine. Just watch where you put the wire Abs, last time they had their hands all over me.” Tony’s voice trailed off. “Are you sure you want McGee in the van, Gibbs? I mean I’d hate to teach him things his mother never warned him about.”

“He’s not as innocent as you’d think,” retorted Abby, clinically popping the buttons of Tony’s shirt.

Gibbs leaned down to ear level and murmured, “He’s slept in the coffin.”

“Really?” Tony winced as Abby’s cool fingers fitted the delicate wire so it ran just below the jut of his collarbone. “The coffin, Abs? This must be serious.”

“Don’t know,” the lab tech muttered. “He still won’t drink out of the thod-pa.”

Gibbs frowned warily. “Thod-pa?”

“Skull cup,” translated DiNozzo. “It’s a contemplation on impermanence thing.”

“Yeah,” agreed Abby, snapping the tape with her teeth. “He just doesn’t get the whole momento mori shtick.”

Pale fingers affixed the electronics and patted the tape down firmly. “Wear a t-shirt,” she advised. Then she smiled, rather predatorily, Gibbs thought. “Something tight.”

“Come on, DiNozzo,” Gibbs hauled up on his right arm and Tony, after a second to get his bearings, followed. “Let’s get out of here before you’re sleeping in the coffin.”

“Don’t worry, Gibbs. He’s not my type.”

Gibbs did a double take, but Abby had turned back to whatever graph she’d been staring at when they’d invaded her domain.

That left him only DiNozzo to question. “A contemplation on impermanence thing?”

The shoulder he was holding onto pulled in a shrug.

“There was one in ‘Eight Legs to Love You.’” In the resounding silence that followed this pronouncement Tony continued, “Scull-cup potion? Thirty-five breasts? Two dead bodies? One giant tarantula attack? One shower scene? Insect moaning? Multiple topless writhing, with fright wig? Oh, come on, you’ve had to see it, boss.”

“Somehow I must have missed that one.” He tugged DiNozzo not quite so gently into the elevator. “Thirty-five breasts?”

~oOo~

Tony heard the back door of the van bang shut and tried unsuccessfully to make out Gibbs’ approach in the amber glow of the streetlight. His fingers sought out the plain-banded Seiko Ducky had pressed in his hand weeks before and he deftly popped the crystal, oriented the tip of his index finger on the ‘six’, and read the time tactilely.

Ten o’clock on the dot. Gibbs was nothing if not punctual.

“You ready to play the jealous lover?” he murmured when Gibbs drew close enough.

Abby had daubed the older man in the new Hugo Boss from the stash of fragrances she’d ended up accumulating for testing purposes and Tony breathed in deeply, bringing in the scent of cardamon, lemon and wild mint. Then the heart notes of nutmeg and sage. At the bottom was a hint of sandalwood and vanilla-infused bourbon, and then the delicious warm and slightly spiced scent of coffee and fresh wood that was just … Gibbs.

“I *am* the jealous lover,” replied Gibbs succinctly, pressing DiNozzo up against the side of the van, keeping his voice low even though the steel body of the vehicle separated them from a jittery McGee.

Tony smiled. “Yeah, hey, that’s true. So, do I get a kiss for the road?”

Gibbs brushed his lips briefly then moved quickly to the throat DiNozzo happily exposed, the crown of Tony’s head brushing against the cool metal before Gibbs put teeth and tongue to work and Tony groaned.

Satisfied with his effort, Gibbs pulled back.

“Did you just?” Tony rubbed a hand over the circle of reddened skin. “Did you just give me a *hickey*?”

Unable to fix either on his own reflection in the van’s passenger mirror or the expression on Gibbs’ face he mutely ran his fingertips up and down his throat.

“You did,” he accused.

“You’re on the clock, DiNozzo.” Gibbs rapped his palm against the van - the signal to McGee to go live on the wire. Then snagged a hand around Tony’s waist and, as they had left both Rufus and his collar at home, he buttressed his hip against Tony’s, providing stability. “Let’s go see if you can do a little investigating.”

“You gave me a *hickey*,” muttered Tony again. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Rule thirteen of undercover work,” Gibbs reminded, holding the door to the bar open with his right hand and keeping his left firmly locked above Tony’s hipbone.

He smiled minutely when Tony joined in the unison. “Always dress the part.”

“But a *hickey*, boss?”

And then they were through the door and Tony could feel the eyes on him, could feel Gibbs stiffen convincingly against him.

A very jealous lover indeed.

PART 22

This time Gibbs sat down at the small table across from Tony. He scanned the press of bodies for anyone matching the description of the “Suicide Blond” and met a couple of very interested glances thrown DiNozzo’s way with a petulant glare of his own.

“Anybody you like?” asked Tony, his hands worrying the edge of the table as if they were in search of something to do.

“Platinum blond in the corner. Looks like a leather fetishist. Could be him.” Gibbs frowned in the direction of the dance floor. “Couple of blonds dancing.”

“Big Boy!”

Gibbs held back the snarl that threatened when Tony’s admirer from the other night landed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He couldn’t hide the hardness in his eyes, though.

“Touchy, touchy,” tsked ‘Big Boy’, his hand straying to ruffle DiNozzo’s hair.

Tony leaned minutely into the touch and Gibbs pressed his chair back suddenly, “I’m getting a beer.”

Whether he was just playing his part, or whether his real emotions were getting the better of him, it was the right move. ‘Big Boy’ occupied his vacated chair in an instant and, leaning against the bar, he could see that Tony had gotten him to call the leather-clad blond over.

He tried to lip read but it was far too dim to make out what was being said. Just not dim enough to hide the hands being laid on Tony’s thighs.

With a disgruntled sigh he retreated to his perch in the booth and set about watching DiNozzo’s back.

~oOo~

McGee sat in the darkness of the van, watching the track of the recording and listening to the disembodied conversation, which, even filled with profanity, was far less startling than what he thought he’d heard murmured between DiNozzo and Gibbs.

What he’d hastily wiped from the start of the recording.

He rubbed sweaty hands on his pants and fervently wished Abby were there. She’d say something to make it okay that it seemed like Tony DiNozzo didn’t find Agent Gibbs near as frightening as he did.

Personal sexual preference aside, he just couldn’t get over the idea that anyone could find the senior agent anything but heart-stopping … in a totally terrifying, decidedly non-tempting kind of way. And Gibbs had …

He’d not only kissed DiNozzo, he’d apparently …

McGee shook himself. The thing was not to go there. Not to even think it.

Gibbs made Abby’s coffin look like his grandmother’s chintz sofa.

~oOo~

“You’re back.”

Gibbs’ gaze flicked briefly to the professor then returned to DiNozzo.

“This is getting to be a habit.”

“It seems,” Gibbs agreed sourly.

“Offer is still good.”

Gibbs snorted, watching the leather boy lean in toward Tony. “Who’s the blond?”

“Calls himself ‘Suicide’.”

“Catchy,” returned Gibbs, trying again to make out what was being said across the barroom floor.

“So …” speculated Haskins, “you let him come and do this because –“

This time, at least, Haskins managed to get his full attention. “You still studying me?”

“Maybe. I didn’t realize until you helped him up that he was—“

“Crippled?” finished Gibbs sharply. “Half blind?”

“So,” the academic returned to his previous question, “you let him do this to you because he’s …”

Gibbs gave in and took a deep swallow of his beer before he replied, not untruthfully. “Because it’s who he is. It’s what he does.”

“Suicide won’t mind a threesome,” Haskins ventured and found the suggestion, not unexpectedly, immediately shot down.

“I would.”

“So, you’re a one-man man.” The professor observed. “Very old-fashioned of you.”

Gibbs worried the beer bottle. “What can I say? I’m a conservative kind of guy.”

A hand he hadn’t been expecting tightened over Gibbs’ own. “And I’m just trying to broaden your horizons.”

Gibbs gaze locked on the unwelcome touch, which was quickly withdrawn. “I’m not interested.”

And he truly wasn’t. The trim and somewhat slight professor was not his type. Not in his early years when he’d always wanted to meet strength with equal or greater strength -- Haskins was far too bookish-looking to have ever fulfilled that need. And not now when his desires apparently ran to Italians with quick, cocky grins and a tendency to get under his skin – in more ways than one.

“Fair enough.” The sociologist nodded toward the front of the bar. “You have my condolences that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Gibbs felt a prickle of fear go up his back and knew, even before he glimpsed the leather-clad blond holding the door open for a smiling Tony, that the younger man had again managed to break the first fucking rule of team surveillance: don’t voluntarily leave the sight of your backup.

He flipped the cell open, thumbing the direct connect. “McGee, where the hell is he going?”

“Some place called Messrs DeSade.”

“Fuck! McGee, follow them. You so much as let him out of your sight and you’ll be doing cold cases in Norfolk until you retire, you hear me?”

What he was going to do to a certain other agent when he caught up with him would be something he’d work out later.

“You’re a cop,” observed Haskins.

“Not exactly,” said Gibbs as launched himself off of the bench. Seeing him stalk toward them, the crowd wisely parted.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Professor?” he snarled as he flung open the front door of the bar. A hand caught the swinging block of metal and glass before it could fall back with a satisfying clang.

“With you.”

“I don’t think so,” Gibbs enunciated precisely.

“I do. You want to get in to DeSade’s without causing a ruckus; you’ll need a membership card.”

Gibbs stopped. “It’s a fucking private sex club? So help me, if I get him out of this in one piece, I’m going to kill him.” He clicked the walkie-talkie again. “McGee, you still with him?”

“Y-y-yes sir. Going down Andersonville past Highland right now.”

He eyed the waiting academic. “You know where this place is?”

“Oh yeah.”

Gibbs tossed the keys to the agency sedan at Haskins. “Then drive.”