Fandom: Navy: NCIS
Pairing: Tony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Table: 9 of 1
Disclaimer: I don't own anything NCIS related
Some nights, Tony doesn’t even bother going home. Instead, he slips quietly into his sleek, smooth car and just drives drives drives
with no idea where he’s going until he inevitably ends up parked in front of Gibbs’ house.
Those are the nights when Tony lets himself in, leaves his shoes sitting neatly by Gibbs’, and hangs up his coat on a hanger. Then he goes and finds Gibbs, wether he’s working on his boat in the basement, or nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee in the kitchen, or curled up in his bed n the left side, waiting for Tony.
Tonight is one of the latter nights.
But tonight, unlike other nights, he lingers in the doorway, lit by the pale light of the moon coming in from the open window. His silhouette, all clean, long lines, shows the obvious bulge of his service weapon.
“Gibbs?” He asks hesitantly, voice soft, barely creating a ripple in the silence.
No answer, for a moment, then Gibbs rolls over, onto his back, and sighs; a gentle exhalation of breath. “Yeah, Tony?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is just a whisper, now, but it carries through the room easily. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with you and Colonel Mann. I’m sorry it was my fault. I’m sorry that I screwed up, that I screwed you over.” By the last, his voice is thick with tears and Gibbs can just make out the shimmer of moonlight on tears glistening on Tony’s cheeks.
“Tony.” It comes out harsher than he intends so he clears his throat, tries again. “Tony, it wasn’t your fault.” He reaches out blindly with one hand, flings the duvet over. “C’mere.” It isn’t a suggestion, nor an invitation, but neither is it an order.
Tony pauses a moment longer, lingering in the relative safety of the entrance- or exit. Then he shakes it off and moves to join Gibbs, first sitting on the edge of the bed then stretching out stiffly on the bed. The fingers of one hand meets Gibbs’.
An all-encompassing silence envelops the room, wrapping around Tony and Gibbs, the only sounds that of carefully matched breathing. Slowly, Tony curls his fingers around Gibbs; Gibbs entwines them tightly.
“I am, you know,” Words carefully chosen. “Sorry, I mean. I wanted, want
, you to be happy. And she made you happy, at least a little.”
Gibbs squeezes Tony’s hand, rakes short, neat nails over his wrist to ensure his attention. “She did,” he admits, a chary concession to the truth. “But so do you.”
Tony breathes in, then out. “I love you. You know I love you.”
“I know.” A whisper of a smile flits over Gibbs’ face, and he makes an aborted gesture with one hand, freezing with his free hand hovering over Tony’s cheek.
Reaching up awkwardly, Tony clasps Gibbs’ hand tenuously, pulling it down to rest on his cheek, scraping over stubble. “It’s okay.” Then, when Gibbs doesn’t move further, “Please.”
A beat passes, another, and Gibbs presses dry, chapped lips against Tony’s cheek, sweeping down so gently, so softly that Tony barely realises he’s doing it.
His breath freezes in his lungs when those lips finally land on his, a soft, chaste kiss, dry mouths meeting and clinging.
,” Tony breathes, desperation and adulation colouring his breathy murmur.
“Yeah,” Gibbs pulls back, rests his forehead on Tony, stares into pools of green and brown and black. He exhales, his chest brushing Tony’s. “Tony, I- this is good. This is all I wanted.” He wraps strong arms around Tony, holding him tightly. “This makes me happy.” The words are clichéd, uncharacteristic, but they’re filled with gentle awe, and love, and happiness.
“If I had known that simply loving you was enough, I would have done that long ago.” Tony half laughs, half smiles, half sobs the words, his chest constricting when Gibbs smiles down at him.
“S’okay,” Gibbs says, and tugs and rolls Tony so that the younger man is plastered over him, wrapped firmly in his arms, and they both breathe deeply and let muscles relax and melt into comforting warmth.