SquidgeWorld Archive

The music, as before, was loud, but this time it was some techno-trance thing Tony didn't recognize. He knocked on the door, waited a little bit, and knocked again. He was about to knock for the third time when the music abruptly shut off and the door swung open.

Stephen stood there, dressed in a white leotard and white yoga pants. He was barefoot, and his hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. A few strands had excaped, clinging to the side of his face. His skin was damp with perspiration and flushed from his workout. When he saw Tony, his face closed up. "Yes?" he asked coolly.

"I came to return some things," Tony said matter-of-factly.

"My belongings?" Stephen asked without moving.

"Among others. Can I come in to put them down?"

Stephen seemed to consider it for a moment, but he nodded and stepped aside.

Tony set his backpack down on the small kitchen table. "Sweater," he said, handing over the plastic bag. "Pen. Necklace. And your watch." The last three items were in small boxes; he set them down carefully. "And...this." He took the spindle out of his backpack and put it down next to them.

"What is 'this'?" Stephen asked.

Tony straightened up and looked at him. "CDs," he said simply. "I don't know how many--Abby just handed me the spindle. I didn't bother to count."

"What's on them?" Stephen asked carefully.

"Six months of your life," Tony told him. "It's not evidence directly related to the case, and this won't be going to trial since Dr.Morales confessed. We're keeping the equipment, of course, but...I got the okay to erase the data. But I thought you might want a copy. You can watch them, break them in half, do whatever you want with them, but they're the only existing copy of the videos Drake had."

For a long moment, Stephen just stared at him. "Why?" he asked finally. His voice was hoarse.

"Because--" Tony sighed. "I'm not going to apologize for the investigation," he said. "We followed the leads we had." It wasn't an answer, and it wasn't an apology, but it was what he had.

"I know that. I have two brothers-in-law who are lawyers. That doesn't mean I enjoyed it." Stephen began picking up items from the table and carrying them over to the heavy wooden dresser by the bed. While he did, Tony looked around.

The whole place was wide-open and airy, bookshelves acting as partitions and setting up smaller areas. Stephen's work area, Joshua's paints, a section with a couch and a coffee table and a TV. There were a couple of doors Tony assumed were to bathrooms and maybe a spare bedroom, as well. The large windows and skylights let in tons of sunshine, but the dark wooden furniture and splashes of bright color--blue couch, yellow chairs, green bed coverings, and of course Joshua's paintings--kept it from feeling too cavernous.

Tony would never have wanted to live there, but he had to admit it was unique. "Where are all the speakers?" he asked curiously.

"Wired up there," Stephen said, gesturing at the ceiling. "We set up the sound system after one of Joshua's showings. He'd sold three pieces, so we splurged." He smiled, folding the sweater neatly and putting it away in a drawer. "Can I offer you some tea or coffee?"

"You don't have to," Tony said in surprise. He'd figured he'd come by, give Stephen back his things, and leave. It wasn't like the man was his friend. Under the circumstances, Tony doubted Stephen even liked him all that much.

"You just gave me back some items I cared about very much, along with six months of my life. I'd say I do." Stephen walked over to the kitchen area and took down two hand-thrown clay mugs, glazed in shades of blue. "Would you mind if I made tea instead? I've had enough caffeine for the day."

"That's fine. Really, you don't have to."

"Cinnamon or peppermint?" Stephen asked.

"Ah--peppermint, please." Tony realized he wasn't going to win the argument and gave into his curiosity, walking around a little. Stephen didn't seem to mind, so he circled around a couple of tall bookcases and ended up facing the bed.

Now that he knew what it was, it made him shiver. But...

"Do you want one?" Stephen asked from behind him. Tony jumped; he hadn't heard Stephen come over.

"Ah--no. That's--it's not really my thing." Tony managed a smile and turned to him. "Where do you even *get* something like this?"

"Catalogs. Or you know someone. In this case, I know the manufacturer and was able to get it at cost." Stephen stroked one of the metal bedposts fondly.

"Why would you *want* one?"

The kettle began to whistle, saving Stephen from an immediate reply. He padded back over to the kitchen, pouring water into two mugs. The scent of cinnamon and peppermint mingled and Stephen handed him one of the mugs. There was a heavy glazed plate on the table, piled with chunky chocolate chip cookies.

"My sister Anna makes them," Stephen said with a nod to the cookies. "She's a kindergarten teacher with three children of her own. And for some reason, she believes I'll starve if she doesn't give me a care package every week."

Tony smiled. "I was an only child, and...well, my family didn't run to care packages." He sat down, taking a cookie.

"I'm the third of six," Stephen said matter-of-factly. "Four sisters and a brother. Anna's my oldest sister."

The cookies were excellent; Tony polished off the first one in three bites and looked at the plate contemplatively before taking a second.

"So." Stephen pulled his legs up into a half-lotus position and sipped his tea. "Do you really want to know why someone wants a bed like that? Or are you asking out of repulsion?"

"Good question. Sure you weren't a psych major?" Tony asked wryly.

"I've been part of the lifestyle for almost ten years, Agent DiNozzo. I'm not ashamed of what I like and I'm not ashamed of who I am. I am, however, used to dealing with all sorts of reactions to it. If you really want to know, I'll be happy to tell you. If you're asking from a gut reaction of disgust, we'll finish our tea and you can be on your way." Stephen took another sip of tea.

"I guess...I don't know," Tony admitted. "What I saw on those tapes--that didn't look like pleasure." He grinned. "And could you call me Tony? I mean, if we're going to be sitting here talking about--about this, I'd like to leave the job behind." He had to smile, realizing how that sounded. "Well, now that I can."

"Fair enough. And you're right, you know. It doesn't look like pleasure, on the surface." Stephen shrugged. "Let me try and give you an example, Tony. You look like you're an athlete, right?"

"Yeah. I almost went pro," Tony said, swallowing a bite of cookie.

"So you're familiar with the 'runner's high'?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah."

"But it hurts before you get there. I mean, you're running, and your lungs hurt and your throat hurts and your muscles burn and it's uncomfortable, isn't it?" Stephen took a cookie and broke off a piece.

"Yeah, it is. But it's worth it, because you've accomplished something. And the endorphins...man." Tony shook his head. "There's nothing like it." He could still remember the way he'd felt at the end of games--that walking on air, totally high feeling. Alcohol had nothing on it.

"You just made my point for me." Stephen smiled. "The way pain becomes pleausre? That's been around pretty much forever. It doesn't take much for one to become the other. Did you ever play with candles as a child? Press your fingers into the hot wax? Same concept."

"Still, though. That seems a bit extreme." Tony gestured toward the bed.

"I didn't say it wasn't." Stephen took a bite of cookie. "I work hard, and I play hard. So does Joshua. Different people can take different levels of sensation, and I tend to enjoy more than most."

He was about to say something else when the heavy door slammed open. "Stephen!" Joshua called, sounding excited. "Hey, babe, you'll never guess what happened!"

From where he sat, Tony couldn't see him, but Stephen could. He got up--just in time for Joshua to catch him up in a long, deep embrace. Tony saw *that* part and averted his eyes.

"So I was talking to my agent today, and apparently Lowenstein liked my work. He wants another showing. In two months. Thirty pieces. Now, I've got a bunch ready, but that's going to be a *lot* of work to get done, and I want that series done to display, and--"

Joshua froze when he caught sight of Tony. "What is he doing here?" he asked coolly, one hand resting possessively on Stephen's shoulder.

"*He*," Stephen said, "is here because he came by to return my things. And I invited him to stay for tea."

"Why?" The hostility in Joshua's voice was enough to make Tony wince.

"Because he *also* gave us back the only copy of the recordings Drake made," Stephen told him. "NCIS doesn't have them. No one does, except us."

"They weren't evidence in the case, and since Christina Morales confessed it won't be going to trial. I got permission to delete the recordings at work, but I thought you two might like them, if only to be able to destroy them." Tony didn't bother to say anything about the hours of research it had taken him to find the loophole he'd needed to excuse erasing the recordings, nor did he say anything about the way he'd twisted said loophole to justify creating their copy. McGee didn't know, neither did Ziva. Abby wasn't going to say a word and Gibbs was either turning a blind eye or oblivious.

Tony's money was on the former. He wasn't sure why, but it was enough that he'd been able to do what he needed to, especially given that he still wasn't entirely sure *why* he'd done it.

It was fascinating to watch Joshua's expression go from hostile to surprised to cheerful within the space of thirty seconds. "Well, hell," he said with a laugh. He held out his hand and Tony stood, walking around the table to take it.

He was a little surprised when Joshua pulled him into a hard hug and kissed him soundly on the mouth before letting him go. Tony blinked, dazed.

"Little impulsive, isn't he?" Stephen said wryly.

"Something like that," Tony said, shaking his head.

"So do we erase these or look at them?" Joshua said, contemplating the spindle of CDs.

Stephen took off the cover and picked up the first CD, walking into the kitchen and opening a drawer. He returned with a pair of kitchen shears and proceeded to slowly cut the CD in half.

"Right." Joshua picked up another one, looking at it contemplatively. "You know, if we strung these right, they'd make great suncatchers."

"Oh, sure, so I can have six months of my life hanging in the window?" Stephen retorted, walking back over. "I don't think so."

"Just a thought, babe." Joshua slung an arm around Stephen's shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "I was thinking we could go out tonight."

"You and me, or you and me and Amy and Paul?" Stephen asked dryly.

"And Agent Whoever, here, if he wants to come." Joshua grinned. Tony blinked; *that* was unexpected.

"His name is Tony," Stephen told Joshua.

"Right, sorry." Joshua ran his hands through his hair. "I had a boyfriend named Tony once. He had really fair skin--natural redhead, you know? Showed marks *really* well."

"Really," Stephen said, raising a brow. "Do elaborate, why don't you?"

"Ah--" Joshua looked at his lover's face and winced. "How about we drop the subject?"

"Smart man."

Tony hid a laugh. "I--ah--I should--" The invitation was nice, but he didn't belong. The tea had been one thing, but this--yeah, it was time to leave before he outstayed his welcome any more than he already had.

"You like Greek?" Joshua asked. "There's this really great Greek place just a few blocks away. Their moussaka's amazing and Paul swears by their dolmades."

"I don't--" Tony grinned sheepishly. "I don't want to get in the way, you know?" It did sound good, but--

"Joshua, keep Tony company while I go shower and change. Call them and tell them we'll see them at seven, okay?" Stephen kissed his lover on the cheek and headed off toward the bathroom.

Tony blinked. "Do you ever win an argument with him?" he asked.

"Stephen? No." Joshua grinned. "Not outside of bed, anyway." He picked up a cordless phone and hit speed dial, waiting a moment. "Hey, girl! Stefan's, seven, you in? I'm buying. I'll tell you when I see you." Joshua laughed. "Kiss kiss, baby." He hung up the phone and Tony spared a moment to wonder about the man's energy. It just bubbled off him.

Kind of like Abby. Tony hid a laugh, wondering how much Joshua and Abby had in common. From her reaction to the recordings, she wasn't as hard-core as he was, but...it would be interesting to put them in the same room.

Assuming it didn't explode from energy overload.

Joshua hit another button, drumming his fingers against the counter. "Paul, my darling, Stefan's at seven? I'm buying. Might be, might be. Mm-hmm. See you then? Beautiful." He hung up and tossed the phone down, spinning around in a tight circle. "This could be *huge*," he told Tony.

"Cool." Tony didn't know anything about art, but Joshua seemed excited enough for both of them. "Listen, I don't want to intrude on--"

"You're not, and if I let you go Stephen's going to be pretty damn pissed. There are a lot of things I'll do, but crossing him when he's made up his mind isn't one of them." Joshua smiled a little. "Unless that's the point."

"I still don't understand that," Tony admitted. "Stephen tried to explain, and I got some of it, but..."

"What's not to understand? Stephen's a masochist. And I don't mean that in the way you normally hear it, you know? He truly enjoys pain. He's able to take it and turn it into pleasure." Joshua bit into a cookie and shrugged. "I mean, if he broke his wrist--that wouldn't be fun. But what I do to him? He loves it."

"And you?" Tony asked.

Joshua grinned. "Can't have a masochist without a sadist, can you?" He licked chocolate off his fingers.

"But you don't hurt other people."

"Why would I?" Joshua seemed genuinely confused.

"But you said..." Tony blinked.

"Masochist, sadist. They go together. I don't get my rocks off hurting people who don't want it. Besides," Joshua said with a grin, "I don't share."

"I got that impression." Tony took a swallow of tea to keep from saying anything about the investigation.

"So why do this?" Joshua asked, gesturing to the spindle. "I mean...I appreciate it. A lot. But why?"

"The evidence didn't directly relate to the case, and it won't be going to trial, so there was no need to keep it. We copied this and erased the data we had," Tony said, sticking to his cover story.

"But why'd you give it to us?"

"Stephen asked me the same question, you know." Tony smiled.

"Well, he's currently blistering his skin off in the shower, so why don't you tell me?" Joshua's voice was casual, and yet...there was something in it Tony couldn't--wait.

He knew that tone of voice. Gibbs had it too--that matter-of-fact, casual arrogance, the simple belief that he had power and whatever he said, people would follow.

Comparing Joshua to Gibbs--well, *that* wasn't something he'd have expected to work. And yet...it fit.

Gibbs *and* Abby. Now *that* was a deadly combination.

Tony set down his mug, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I told Stephen, and I'll tell you, that I'm not apologizing for the investigation. We followed the leads we had."

Joshua shrugged. "That's up to you. Still doesn't explain why you're in my kitchen eating Anna's cookies with six months of my life on the table."

"I guess not." Tony grinned. "They're really good cookies, though."

"I'll tell her you said so. Why?" Joshua asked evenly.

"Because I thought you deserved them," Tony admitted. "Look. I don't really understand what you do in bed and I'm not sure I want to. But whatever you do, it's consensual, and you don't deserve to have six months of it in government archives."

"Okay." Joshua nodded. "Makes sense." He smiled. "But you're lying."

"What?" A little stunned, Tony stared at him.

"Oh, you're telling the truth about why you brought back the CDs. But the rest?" Joshua grinned and shook his head. "I've been around the scene since I was seventeen and my boyfriend brought handcuffs to bed. I know when someone's interested, and I know you want to understand. And Stephen already explained a bit, didn't he?"

Tony nodded, a little defensively.

Joshua leaned in. "It doesn't make sense because you don't want it to make sense. Stop fighting that, and it'll get a lot clearer." He straightened up and turned to Stephen, who had emerged from the shower at some point and was pulling on a pair of black jeans. "Tease," he said with a laugh.

Stephen buttoned his jeans and pulled on a a soft grey Henley, pushing up the sleeves. "I deliver." He fastened his watch and picked up a brush, running it through his hair. "Are you done terrorizing Tony?"

"I wasn't terrorizing. I was just talking to him."

"Uh huh. Sure you were." Stephen pulled on a pair of black tennis shoes and walked over to them. His hair was damp, brushed neatly back from his face, and he'd apparently shaved.

Tony blinked. "You never wear color, do you?" And yeah, Abby had mentioned that before, but...it was still weird to see.

Stephen grinned. "Nope. I used to smoke, too, but I decided that was just too pretentious. So I settled for a monochrome wardrobe. Makes getting dressed a lot easier."

"But he still spends half an hour picking out his clothes." Joshua rolled his eyes.

"This from the man who shows up to dinner in paint spattered jeans and ripped T-shirts."

"You don't strike me as a smoker," Tony said, backtracking a bit.

"I lasted about two months, and it was about ten years ago." Stephen grinned and shrugged.

"I never did," Joshua commented. "But I couldn't really afford cigarettes."

"Joshua, you couldn't really afford *food*," Stephen pointed out.

"Right! Food! We have to get going."

"I really should--" Tony tried again on the way downstairs.

"It's just a few blocks this way," Stephen said, ignoring him. "Not a bad walk, especially on a night like this."

"Stephen, I appreciate the courtesy, but--"

"You might as well give up now," Joshua told him, laughing. "For a bottom, he's remarkably dominant."

"When I want to be." Stephen smiled blandly. "I did tell you I switched."

"Not with me, you don't." There it was again--that hint of power and arrogance, barely hidden in Joshua's voice. Tony blinked.

"Of course not, O Lord and Master," Stephen said dryly.

Joshua came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Stephen, who was a step above him. He reached up and tangled his hand in Stephen's hair, pulling his head back. "You want to try that again?" he asked softly, and there was nothing hiding in his voice now.

Stephen swallowed, his eyes half-closing. "Joshua," he murmured, his voice soft and--Tony couldn't figure out what it was.

Tony looked between them, wondering if he could slip past Joshua and make his escape. But he took one step and Joshua's other hand grabbed his shoulder. "Not skipping out already, are you?" he purred, still looking at Stephen.

"Joshua." Stephen's voice was sharp. "He's not yours to play with. Let the boy be."

Tony felt like arguing that he was older than both of them, but decided--wisely--to keep his mouth shut. There was a dynamic here he didn't really understand, and it wasn't something he wanted to disturb. He wasn't sure what was twisting in the pit of his stomach but he was pretty sure he didn't want to look at that too closely, either.

"Why?" Joshua asked softly. "Why should I?"

"He's not yours, Joshua. You don't have the right to push him when he doesn't know what he's doing. Let the boy be," Stephen repeated. "He doesn't understand and you're going to scare him."

"Oh, I don't think he's scared," Joshua said with a laugh.

"Stop it, Joshua, or you're sleeping at Amy's tonight. I warned you last time--leash it or I will." Stephen pulled his head away. "Enough."

Joshua lowered his hand from Tony's shoulder. "Don't push me," he warned Stephen.

"Don't push *him*."

Stephen met Joshua's gaze evenly and after a moment, Tony was surprised to see *Joshua* lower his eyes. "I did it again, didn't I?" he asked wryly.

"Yeah, you did, and if you keep doing this we're going to have some more conversations." Stephen came down the last step.

"I know. I'm sorry." Joshua turned to Tony. "I am sorry, Tony," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to do that."

Tony shook his head. "It's okay. Really." Over, done, end of story. Really.

Joshua studied his face carefully, then nodded. "All right."

And just like that, it was over. "There is spanikopita calling my name," Joshua said cheerfully, turning and pushing the door to the building open before heading out onto the street. Tony lagged behind a few steps, and Stephen stayed with him.

"He doesn't mean to do it, you know," Stephen said with a nod to Joshua. "It's just such a part of who he *is* that sometimes he doesn't think about it. I'm sorry if he scared you."

Tony shook his head. "He didn't." Startled, yes, and that feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn't gone away, but scared wasn't on the list.

Stephen looked at him a bit more closely. "And then again, maybe scaring you isn't what I should be apologizing for," he murmured.

"It's fine. Really." Tony managed a smile. "I'm just--this is your dinner, with your friends, and I don't...Christ, Stephen, I just did my best to point the finger at Joshua for murder."

"I know. And you don't need to tell me that I was next on the list. Frankly, after that interrogation I was likely higher on the list than Joshua, except that you didn't have any evidence. However, neither one of us was arrested, you've given us back something we can't ever repay, and this is the least we can do to say thank you. Besides." Stephen smiled. "Do you really want both Joshua *and* myself telling you to leave?"

"Um." Tony shook his head a little. "I don't think so."

"Good answer."

The rest of the walk passed in companionable silence and the three of them arrived at the restaurant just before seven. Joshua apparently knew the hostess, a plump middle-aged woman; he kissed her on both cheeks and she tapped his head with a menu before seating them at a large round table in the back.

Tony noticed wryly that Stephen managed to arrange the seats so that Tony was between Stephen and the wall, with no easy way out. He shook his head inwardly, thinking that while Joshua was the more obviously dominant of the two, Stephen, in his own quiet way, was likely the more dangerous.

Amy came running in a moment later, out of breath and with a hobo bag slung over one shoulder. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," she said breathlessly. "I got caught up at work and the fax machine broke and wouldn't you know it, we needed five hundred copies of this new pamphlet and Kate got sick so I had to run to Staples and what the fuck is he doing here?" she asked, dropping into a seat.

"He," Joshua said, "gave us back the recordings Drake made. And erased all the other copies. And his name is Tony."

"Oh!" Amy bounced in her seat. "Totally cool, then. Sorry I got so pissed at you, but, well..." She shrugged.

"Part of the job," Tony told her wryly. "I'm used to people getting pissed at me." He *wasn't* so used to the easy forgiveness.

"So where's Paul?" Amy asked.

Joshua just looked at her incredulously. "You're asking where Paul is?"

"Okay, okay, point taken." Amy laughed.

"Someone want to enlighten the clueless?" Tony asked warily.

"Paul's always late. He has to set two alarms so he makes it to his classes on time. We'll be lucky if we see him by the time our entrees get here," Stephen explained.

"Gotcha."

Dinner passed much more pleasantly than Tony had thought it would. Paul drifted in around seven-twenty and didn't even ask why Tony was there, just smiled and nodded and stole a bite of Amy's moussaka.

Tony didn't even realize what time it was until the check arrived and he looked at his watch. "Nine-thirty?" he asked in surprise. How the hell had he done *that*? He'd intended to be home by seven as it was.

"God, is it that late?" Paul asked with a wince. "I've got to get going--I have a eight a.m. class tomorrow and papers to grade. What's my share?"

"I've got it," Joshua said, waving him off. "Showing in two months and all that."

"Far be it from me to argue." Paul grinned, gave everyone a wave, and headed out.

"You two heading back to your place?" Amy asked.

Joshua pulled some bills out of his wallet and tossed them on top of the check. "Yeah, you wanna come hang for a bit?"

She looked at him, then Stephen, then laughed and shook her head. "Not a chance. Not when you're in one of your moods."

"I beg your pardon?" Joshua asked indignantly.

"Ten bucks you went toppy on him before we got here," she dared him. "I've known you how long, darling? I saw that look in your eyes and I've seen his body language all through dinner. Just make it in the door first, would you?"

Joshua rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why I don't like women."

Amy went around the table to him. "And you wonder why I don't like men." She leaned down and gave him a long kiss. "Kiss kiss, darling," she said, waggling her fingers.

"Kiss kiss, baby." Joshua looked at Stephen and Tony. "Shall we?" he asked.

"I parked around the corner from you," Tony said as they walked back. "And I've got my kit, so...thank you. For everything."

"Leaving so soon?" Joshua asked with a mock pout.

"After what your friend said, I think it's probably for the best." Tony dug out his keys.

"Sure you don't want to come up for tea?" Stephen grinned. "I have peanut butter cookies to go with it."

"Did your sister make them?" Tony asked with an inward groan for his waistline.

"Actually, I did." Stephen pulled his keys out of his pocket. "I'm not half bad."

"Anna taught him well," Joshua confirmed. "C'mon up, Tony. We won't bite."

Stephen smacked Joshua's shoulder lightly. "We won't keep you too late. Promise." He grinned again, and Tony figured what the hell? He liked Stephen, truth be told, and it wasn't like he had to get up for work the next day.

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Why not?"

Joshua clapped him on the back. "Good man. Let's go." He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time; Stephen and Tony followed a bit more sedately.

"Is he always so--" Tony gestured.

"Yes," Stephen said wryly. "Yes, he is."

"How do you *live* with that?" Tony asked, more than a little confused. Stephen was so quiet and reserved--compared to Joshua and Amy and even Paul, he was positively reticent. And Joshua was almost larger than life, Tony thought. Kind of like the paintings on the walls.

Stephen smiled a little and shrugged. "I love him. And we make it work. There's a balance we can usually find."

"Usually?" Tony asked.

"If it gets out of balance..." Stephen shrugged. "We have ways of fixing it."

Ways that probably included the bed, Tony thought. He shook his head, not sure he wanted to think that closely about it.

When they walked into the apartment, Joshua had the music on low--jazz, Tony thought. Something low and sultry. The kettle was heating and mugs were on the counter. "Babe, I don't know where you put the cookies," Joshua said, sticking his head in a cabinet.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "I put them *away*, Joshua. Where they always go. Look, here." He pushed Joshua out of the way and took out an elephant-shaped cookie jar. "My sister loves elephants," he said, setting it on the table. "And she thinks everyone else should, too."

"Anna?" Tony hazarded a guess.

Stephen opened the jar and began setting cookies on a plate. "No, Leah. She's my second-oldest. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Don't try to keep his family straight," Joshua advised, pouring water over tea bags; Tony smelled Earl Grey. "It'll just give you a headache."

"It's not that hard. Anna, Leah and Ruth-- they're twins--me, Judy, and Daniel." Stephen took his mug and a cookie. "Milk or sugar?" he asked Tony.

"No, I'm fine, thanks." Tony sipped his tea. "I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the concept of six siblings, I guess."

"Mm-hmm. Four girls, two boys, and sixteen years between oldest and youngest. Daniel was kind of a surprise baby." Stephen broke off a piece of cookie and dunked it in his tea. "And I'm the black sheep."

"Because you're gay?" Tony hazarded a guess.

"Got it in one." Stephen grinned. "Although right now I think my sister Ruth has the black sheep title. She's a photojournalist currently in Iraq."

"She's a Jewish woman with a camera in Iraq?" Tony stared at him. "Is she insane?"

"Pretty much, yes. She travels with a reporter and the two of them have so far managed to stay safe." Stephen shrugged.

"Sometimes I'm glad I was an only child," Tony admitted. "Sometimes..."

"But at least you didn't have to fight three teenage girls for the bathroom," Stephen pointed out.

"Good point." Tony winced. He took a cookie and bit into it, not really surprised when it was almost as good as the ones he'd had earlier.

"So." Stephen pulled his legs up into half-lotus. "You're single, you're cute, I'm guessing you're HIV negative...why's there no one in your life?"

"How do you know I'm single?" Tony countered.

Stephen grinned. "If you weren't, you'd have either left or invited your current partner to join us."

"Maybe I just haven't found the right person yet." Tony grinned back, giving Stephen a teasing once-over.

To his complete surprise, Stephen returned it. "And you're apparently not as straight as you pretend." Stephen laughed. "Good for us."

"Us?" Tony asked, confused.

Stephen gestured with his cookie. "Us. Gay men in general."

"Yeah, well..." Tony shrugged. "I like women, too."

"Nothing wrong with that. Don't limit your options."

"But you're completely gay." Tony smoothed his hair back, not really sure where this conversation was going.

"Mm-hmm." Stephen smiled. "I like men." He stretched his arms over his head, dropping his head back. "I'm sure you can appreciate that."

Joshua had been quiet through the entire conversation, but Tony noticed the cool look on his face and tensed inwardly. He did *not* want to get caught between these two.

"Stephen," Joshua said evenly.

"Hmm?" Stephen turned to look at his lover, eyes sparkling.

"Enough."

Stephen gave him a mock-pout. "We're just talking, Joshua. Relax."

"Find a different topic," Joshua told him.

"I should probably be getting home anyway," Tony said hastily. "It's getting late, and--"

"You keep wanting to leave," Stephen said thoughtfully. "Do we make you uncomfortable?"

God, yes. And it wasn't just the power dynamic that vibrated between them. It was the sheer *connection* they had. Tony didn't really want someone like Joshua, but that control and that--oh, hell. The possessiveness turned him on, and the cool power in Joshua's voice made his stomach clench.

If someone had addressed *him* like that, if someone wanted *him* like that--Tony was honest enough to admit that he'd go to his knees. If someone--

Well, it didn't matter. He didn't have anyone like that, he probably wasn't going to have anyone like that, and he was just fine with that.

Stephen looked at him, and Tony realized he hadn't answered the question. "No, it's not that," he said, dragging his thoughts back into the present. "It's just that--I don't belong here."

"Don't belong? Or don't want to belong?" Stephen asked.

"It doesn't matter." Tony blew out a breath. "Thank you. For--everything. But I should go."

"You sure?" Stephen pressed. "You don't have to leave just yet, Tony. Not if you don't want to."

"Stephen."

"Yes?" Stephen turned to look at Joshua.

"Stop pushing him." Joshua reached out and took Stephen's wrist, circling it with his fingers. "You want it that badly, I'll give it to you. But don't push him."

"You did it earlier," Stephen reminded him.

Yeah, and Tony hadn't really appreciated it then either.

"Yes, and you took my head off for it, remember? Enough, Stephen." Joshua squeezed Stephen's wrist. "Enough."

Tony was stunned to see Stephen gasp and close his eyes, his head dropping forward.

"He's not much better than me, sometimes," Joshua said wryly. "And I'm sorry about that."

"It's all right." Tony wasn't sure it was, but thinking about the alternative was just too disturbing. "I'll--yeah. Thank you for dinner, and everything." He stood, nearly knocking over his chair, grabbing his kit. "Thanks," he said again, awkwardly.

Joshua smiled. "Take it easy, Tony."

Stephen looked up at him; his eyes were clear and calm. "I'll see you around," he said easily, but that same softness Tony had heard before dinner was in his voice again.

"Sure." Tony didn't see how, but he wasn't about to argue anything else tonight. "Have--have a good one."

He wasn't too proud to admit that he left as fast as he could.

Work on Monday was slow, thankfully, and without any sexual harrassment classes or sensitivity training, he was pretty much resigned to catching up on the endless paperwork and playing video games when Gibbs either didn't notice or didn't care. He was contemplating taking a longish lunch when his phone rang.

"DiNozzo," he said, tucking it under his chin and taking out a pen and piece of paper automatically.

"I'd say Bond, but that got me into so much trouble growing up..." Stephen laughed. "How are you, Tony?"

"I'm--ah, I'm fine. How did you--"

"It's not hard to get the number of a government employee if you know where to look. Am I interrupting something?"

Tony glanced around, but Ziva was stabbing at her keyboard, McGee was down with Abby, and Gibbs was probably up in MTAC. So..."No," he said, keeping his voice low. "No, not at all."

"Oh good. Listen--I wanted to apologize for the other night. Both Joshua and I were way out of line. And I'm truly sorry about that." Stephen sighed. "I think we were both a little wound tight from the case, and getting those CDs back, and you..."

"I got caught in the line of fire," Tony finished, twirling his pen. "It's okay."

"No, it really isn't. Joshua--well, he's done that before, but I...I don't know why I did that to you, Tony, and I really am sorry." Stephen sighed. "Can I buy you dinner to make up for it?"

"It's--you don't have to."

"Please," Stephen said simply. "Let me. Joshua won't be around tonight, if you want--he's got a dinner meeting with his agent."

Tony sighed. "You really don't have to."

"I want to."

Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All right. Seven okay?"

"Perfect. There's a little Italian place a few blocks from my place--opposite direction of the Greek place. Berducci's."

"I know that one, yeah." Tony smiled. "Best manicotti I've found in the area."

"So seven?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll see you tonight." Tony hung up the phone and exhaled deeply, looking down at his keyboard. Every instinct he had told him this was probably not going to go well, but...he couldn't quite say no.

"Apologetic date?" Ziva asked archly. "I'm surprised she even called back."

Tony smiled blandly and turned back to his computer. Ziva could think what she wanted; for once, Tony didn't feel like enlightening her or exaggerating the truth. Reality, after all, was more bizarre than anything she'd come up with.

Work ran late, due to a problem with the computer systems, and Tony didn't have time to run home before meeting Stephen. Thankfully, he'd worn a sweater and jeans, and Bertucci's was casual dress. He got to the restaurant two minutes before seven and took one of them to settle his nerves and smooth back his hair before getting out of his car and heading up the block to the door.

Stephen was already there, dressed in a black button-down shirt and charcoal gray pants. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, secured with a neat silver clip. "Hi," he said with a warm smile. "I'm glad you made it."

Tony grinned. "Me too." He was a little surprised to realize he meant it.

"This way, gentlemen," the hostess said, leading them to a small booth by the window. "Marc is your server, and he'll be over momentarily to tell you the specials. Can I get either of you something to drink?"

"Just water, thanks," Stephen told her.

"And you, sir?" She turned to Tony.

He was tempted to order a beer, but--probably not a good idea. "Water's fine," he said, flashing her a grin.

She smiled back. "Marc will be right over."

Marc was, in fact, right over. He gave them the list of the specials, their water, and then left to give them some time to decide. Tony closed his menu and tossed it on the table, watching Stephen consider before closing his own menu. "So," Tony said lightly. "What's the occasion?"

Stephen shrugged and sipped his water. "An apology, if you'll take it as one. Peace offering, perhaps. Or just dinner between friends."

"Friends?" Tony asked, startled.

"Why not?" Stephen smiled. "I like you, Tony. I think you're intelligent, you've got a good sense of humor, and you're a nice guy, despite the fact that you tried to build a case against both myself and my lover for murder."

Tony laughed. "Well, sure, if you overlook that little detail."

"What did Christina say?" Stephen asked curiously. "About why she killed Drake?"

Tony was saved from answering immediately by Marc, who came back over with a basket of hot bread. He poured some olive oil and vinegar on a plate and stood back to take their orders--manicotti for Tony, grilled chicken and pasta for Stephen.

"Do you want a piece of this?" Tony asked, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it in the oil.

Stephen shook his head. "No, thanks. What did Christina say?"

Tony sighed. "Professional jealousy, mostly. And some personal anger. She went over to talk to him and saw him watching--"

"Watching me," Stephen filled in when Tony hesitated.

"Yeah. And she snapped." Tony took a bite of bread. He didn't tell Stephen what Christina had said--about Drake wanting to kill one or both of them. There was no need for Stephen to know.

"What--how long will she be in prison?" Stephen asked.

"I don't know. She took a plea bargain. Probably ten years, give or take." Tony took another piece of bread to keep from thinking about it too much.

Stephen nodded. "I'd almost like to go see her," he said thoughtfully.

Tony dropped his bread. "Why?"

"Because..." Stephen tilted his head to the side. "Because lives can connect in very strange ways. I don't know this woman. I've met her once, and yet...she killed someone I knew." He smiled wryly. "Someone who apparently knew me a lot better than I thought."

"You don't have to see her, Stephen." Tony smiled up at Marc, who set their salads in front of them and refilled Stephen's water. "There's absolutely no reason for you to."

"I know that." Stephen sighed. "But...I want to know why, Tony. I want to know why Drake fixated on me like that. And maybe...maybe she knows something, or between us we can figure it out."

"Some things you're better off not knowing." Tony picked up his fork. "Seriously, Stephen. As your friend--it's probably not a good idea."

"Probably not. Doesn't mean I won't do it." Stephen picked up his own and took a bite of lettuce.

"It's really hard to argue you out of something, isn't it," Tony said wryly.

"Pretty much impossible, yes." Stephen smiled and speared a cherry tomato. "Drives Joshua insane."

"I bet." Tony hesitated, moving lettuce around his salad bowl. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Stephen blotted his lips with his napkin and set his fork down. "What's on your mind?"

"Why--" Tony sighed. "Why are you doing this? Dinner last night, and then tonight, and--it's not that I don't appreciate it, and it's not that I don't enjoy the company. But--"

"Tony." Stephen interrupted. "Do you have any idea what it's like to find out someone was obsessed with you? That six months of your life were recorded for someone to watch?"

"No," Tony admitted. "No, I don't."

"Ask anyone--Joshua, Paul, Amy, any of my siblings or friends--and they'll all tell you how much I value my privacy. Growing up in a large family, you learn to either do without or treasure what you get. Drake took that away from me, Tony. It's--" Stephen reached back and unclipped his hair, dragging a hand through it. "It's like rape, Tony. And nothing will make that go away. But what you've done makes it a hell of a lot better. And there is nothing, *nothing* I can do to repay you for that." He shook his head, hair tumbling around his face.

"You don't have to repay me for anything, Stephen. I was just doing my job." Tony shrugged. "I don't really--I don't need your gratitude."

"And if that was all this was, I'd send you on your way with some of Anna's cookies. It's not, Tony. I like you. And..." Stephen smiled. "I'd be lying if I said that part of me wasn't responding to you."

Their entrees arrived and Tony picked up his fork. "Responding how?"

Stephen smiled and took a bite of pasta. "Part of me can't believe you've gone this long without exploring, or finding out about the lifestyle. Tony...you're a natural. You felt it the other day, with both Joshua and myself--and I'm really, really sorry about that." He grimaced. "I don't like to lose control like that."

"Why did you?" Tony asked.

"Couple of reasons." Stephen looked a bit sheepish. "I was pushing Joshua. I do that sometimes. Generally it's around people I feel comfortable with, who don't mind. But they're also much more aware of things and are able to push back. You weren't able to do that."

"I didn't know how," Tony admitted. He twirled strands of cheese around his fork, taking a bite.

"I know. But that's also..." Stephen sighed. "You're a natural, Tony. And I'm really, really surprised you've never felt it before."

"Natural what?" This wasn't making sense.

"Natural sub," Stephen said simply.

Tony stared at him for a good minute."You're not serious," he said finally.

"I don't tend to joke about that sort of thing." Stephen took another bite of chicken.

"I'm not--no. I'm not--whatever." Tony slumped back against the booth. "I like my sex life the way it is."

"Mmm. Maybe you do. But maybe part of you wants to know what it's like to let go and let someone else be in charge." Stephen sipped his water. "And I think that part of you is larger than you want to admit."

"No." Tony shook his head.

"It's up to you. I'm not going to force you into anything." Stephen grinned.

"Stephen, I don't even know what you're *talking* about, not really." Tony took another bite or two of his meal, trying to gather his thoughts. "I don't know what it's like to be--well, to be like you, I guess. How can I want something when I don't even know what it is?"

"What's not to know?" Stephen countered. "Either you want someone else to take control of you or you don't."

"That's not--" Tony sighed. "Stephen, I saw you in the apartment, the other night. When Joshua--there was something *different* about you. I don't know what that is, and I don't think I want to."

Stephen blinked. "Oh," he said slowly. "Oh, I see."

"You do?" Tony was a bit taken aback. "How?"

"I can't explain here." Stephen put his fork down. "And the only way to explain is to show you, at least in part. Relax, I'm not propositioning you," he said, holding up a hand. "But I can show you what you're confused about. If you want."

He shouldn't have, but..."Why not?" he said, feeling like he was getting himself in way over his head.

"I promise it won't hurt." Stephen grinned and Tony had to laugh.

Marc came to clear away their plates; Tony was a little surprised to see he'd eaten almost everything on his. "Coffee or dessert, gentlemen?" Marc asked. "We have some wonderful chocolate mousse cake this evening, and the tiramisu is always an excellent choice."

Tony looked at Stephen. "Do you want anything?" he asked.

Stephen shrugged. "I wouldn't say no to an espresso," he said.

"Add a cappucino to that," Tony told Marc. "And--you like chocolate?"

Stephen laughed. "One piece of cake, two forks."

Marc smiled. "Be right back."

"I'm guessing yes?" Tony said wryly.

"My two weaknesses. Chocolate and coffee." Stephen smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Joshua likes to tease me about it."

"There are worse ones to have," Tony pointed out.

"Mmm. Very true." Stephen smiled at Marc and picked up his espresso. Tony wasn't too surprised to see he drank it black.

The cake, as promised, was wonderful. Light and creamy and rich; Tony watched Stephen lick his fork clean and swore the man was humming in pleasure.

"And I'll take this whenever you're ready," Marc said, setting the bill on the table. Stephen reached for it, but Tony snagged it first.

"I've got it," he said, getting out his wallet. "Really. You bought me dinner last time."

"I was the one who said I'd buy dinner," Stephen argued.

"Call it a rain check." Tony stuck his debit card in the bill and set it on the edge of the table.

The bill taken care of, they left the restaurant, walking back to Stephen's building. Tony's car was parked between Bertucci's and Stephen's place, so he left it where it was and followed Stephen up the stairs.

"Joshua probably won't be home for another hour or two. Roberta--his agent--likes to talk. And I think they were discussing going to the gallery as well." Stephen unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open. "Have a seat on the couch," he said, nodding to the blue sofa by the TV. "It's more comfortable than the kitchen chairs."

Tony took a seat, unsurprised to find it as squashy and comfortable as the armchair. Joshua and Stephen seemed to prefer that sort of thing. The TV, he noted, was an older model, and there was a plant on top of it. "Not much for the boob tube?" he asked, nodding at it.

Stephen laughed, sitting down next to him. "To be honest, I can't remember the last time one of us turned it on."

"What do you do in your spare time, then?"

"I read. Joshua paints, or draws. He reads too--he loves mysteries. Sometimes we go running. We've got a collection of jigsaw puzzles and sometimes we get some friends over for board games." Stephen shrugged. "What did people do before TV?"

"Good point." Tony smiled. It sounded boring to him, but who was he to judge?

"So. You wanted a demonstration or explanation of what you saw?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. Something like. I guess." Tony shrugged.

Stephen nodded. "I won't hurt you, Tony. I promise you'll be safe, that nothing will happen to you that you don't want and consent to. Okay?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Okay."

"If you feel like it's too much, or that you want it to stop, say red--like the stoplight--and I'll stop."

"Seems like a lot of caution for a demonstration," Tony said, a little warily.

"I promise, it won't be much. I just know it can be scary, the first time." Stephen shifted so he was kneeling on the couch. "Give me your hands."

Tony looked at Stephen's hands, outstretched and waiting for his, and exhaled. "Do I need to take my watch off?" he asked.

Stephen nodded. "It'd be a good idea."

He unfastened the watch and set it down on the table before slowly extending his arms.

Stephen's hands closed around his wrists, thumbs pressing over his pulse. They tightened, a little, and Tony gasped at the spark that ran through him.

"I want you to listen to me, Tony," Stephen said, his voice soft and low and almost hypnotic. "Close your eyes and listen to me, okay?"

He did, reminding himself to breathe.

"Feel my hands around your wrists, Tony, and listen to me. I'm the only thing you need to focus on right now. Okay? All I want you to do is relax and listen. Just relax. You've got nothing to worry about, nothing to think about...just feel my hands on your wrists and listen to my voice. It feels good, doesn't it? Like you're floating somewhere warm and safe. You are safe, Tony. I have you safe. All I want you to do is relax."

As he spoke, Stephen's thumbs brushed over the inside of Tony's wrists, stroking over his pulse. Tony shuddered; between Stephen's hold on his wrists and Stephen's voice, he felt...he didn't know how he felt, only that the world was falling away and Stephen was the only thing left in it, the only thing he could hold to.

It felt...good. It felt like he didn't need to care or worry about anything, except Stephen, but--

He pulled back a little, trying to think, to clear his head, because this couldn't be right, and Stephen's hands tightened and Tony panicked. "Red," he gasped out.

Immediately, Stephen let him go. He didn't say anything, he didn't move, he just...waited, Tony realized.

"I--" Tony shook his head. "What *was* that?"

"Subspace," Stephen said matter-of-factly. "It's kind of like an altered state of consciousness, where the only thing that matters is your Dom. You were there, Tony. I saw it. Did it scare you?"

He rubbed his hands over his face. "Yeah," he muttered. "It felt--I liked it, but--"

"But you tried to think," Stephen finished. "And it scared you."

"Yeah." Tony sighed. "You can't think in subspace?"

"Not past what your Dom's telling you to do, no." Stephen shrugged. "That's kind of the point."

"I don't know if it's for me," Tony told him.

Instead of answering, Stephen sat back on the couch and stretched his legs a bit. "Before you started thinking, what did it feel like?" he asked.

"It felt..." Tony sighed. "Like everything else didn't exist. Or was ceasing to exist. Except...you."

"And did you like that?" Stephen's voice was simple, matter-of-fact; there was no judgment or condemnation in it at all.

"I--" He wanted to say no, but truth was..."I did."

"It's up to you whether or not you decide it's for you, Tony. But what you felt--that's only the barest hint of what it can be. And if you liked that, I can pretty much guarantee that you'd like the rest."

"I don't..." Tony sighed. "You have a way of turning my world on its head, you know that? None of this is supposed to make sense."

Stephen smiled. "When Joshua and I started dating, everyone thought we were insane. His friends thought I was too straitlaced for him. My family thought he was too impulsive and flighty for me. Mama had a long talk with me about being careful that he wasn't just using me because I had a steady income. After the first month, his friends decided it was just about sex. It didn't make sense to any of them. Hell, it barely made sense to us."

"When did it start making sense?" Tony asked.

"When it does, I'll let you know." Stephen grinned. "Life doesn't make sense, Tony. I'd think that as a federal agent, you'd know that."

"I do. But this...this is different. I mean--didn't you think so? When you started?"

"Not really, no. I was eighteen, a freshman at Columbia--I went there for my bachelor's and my master's in architecture--and I'd been fascinated by the idea since I was a teenager. The whole concept of control, of that fluid dynamic, of giving it up and getting it back--well." Stephen shrugged and pulled his legs up under him. "It was just something I'd always been drawn to. So I started dating, a bit, and I found a guy who knew a little, and...it went from there. And Joshua--he's a natural top. Always has been. I think he tried bottoming once."

"I can't imagine that went well," Tony said dryly, earning himself a laugh from Stephen.

"No. No, it didn't." Stephen toyed with a lock of hair. "Some people are naturally drawn to the lifestyle, others start reading and find it's something they enjoy. Some are happy without it. And some don't think about it until it becomes impossible to ignore."

"So...what do I do now?" Tony asked.

"Well, you can ignore me and everything I've said and go your merry way. Or you can come hang out with me and Joshua one night--there's this club we go to sometimes. Fetishistic, but nothing too hard-core. It'd give you a chance to talk to people who aren't me or Joshua."

Tony nodded slowly. "I might--that'd be cool." A thought popped into his head and he laughed.

"Care to share the joke?" Stephen asked curiously.

"I have a friend at work--our forensics specialist. She's into this stuff too. Not as hard-core as you and Joshua are, I don't think--the recordings bothered her. But...I mean, she wears dog collars and chain-link belts. And a lot of black."

"It's definitely possible. You want to bring her along?" Stephen asked.

"Would that be okay? I mean--I think she'd really like you guys."

"Sure." Stephen grinned. "Might make it easier on you, too."

"Might indeed." Tony ran a hand through his hair.

They both looked up when the door swung open and Joshua all-but-bounded inside. "Stephen, babe! I have *fantastic* news!"

"Over here, Joshua," Stephen called. "Tony and I were talking."

"Oh! Hey, Tony." Joshua swung himself over the back of the couch and dropped down on it. "I talked to Roberta, the goddess of my life, and she says that the showing next month could lead to some very good things--*and*! She says she may have found a buyer for the Passions series. All five pieces."

"That's fantastic!" Stephen's face lit up with a smile and he leaned forward to kiss Joshua. "What's the price?"

"She's asking nine for the set, more if the buyer only wants individual pieces."

"Nine..." Tony said curiously.

Joshua turned to him. "Thousand." He grabbed Tony's shoulders and gave him a hard kiss on the mouth. "And for a starving artist like me, that's incredible!"

Tony laughed. "I'll get going, then. Leave you two to celebrate." He stood, stretching. "Thanks, Stephen. For everything."

Stephen got up as well. "I'll walk you to the door."

"Oh--let me give you my cell," Tony said as they headed to the front door. "It's safer than work."

"Sure." Stephen handed him a pen and little pad of paper and Tony scribbled down his number. "I'll call you when we set something up," he said. "Okay?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. That'd be good."

Stephen leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Have a good night, Tony."

"You too."

"Oh, I will." Stephen laughed, glancing back at Joshua. "When he's in a mood like this...well."

"I don't think I want to know." Tony shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Call me, I guess."

"I will."

As he headed down the stairs, Tony thought that his life hadn't gotten turned on its head so much as it had gotten turned upside down, shaken, and put right side up--facing ninety degrees from where it had been. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not.

He shrugged and dug out his keys. Only one thing he could do now, really. Just go with the flow.

Tony just hoped he wouldn't drown.