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Purple wisps melted with feather touches into the deep fiery oranges of the sky as the sun set over the lapping ocean waves. Gibbs sat, beer idly swinging in his hand, watching the sun lower into the water. He heard the familiar tread of his friend and mentor making his way towards him in the sand.
Mike sat down next to him, silently working on his own beer. The sun was little more than an afterthought when he spoke. “How long you gonna keep this up for, Probie?”
Gibbs turned to look at his friend. “Tired of me already, Mike?”
“Hmph.” The older man grunted a chuckle.
After a few moments silently drinking and watching the calming roll of the waves, Mike spoke up again. “I’m serious, Jethro, you’re not ready for this.”
Gibbs sighed. “What am I gonna go back to? An agency I can’t believe in? Building boats in my basement?”
Mike let his eyes roam the seas debating how much to say. “You believe in your team. And those hands of yours are good for more than just boats.”
“The team doesn’t need me,” he said in honesty.
“What about that boy of yours?” Mike asked, absently swirling his bottle.
Jethro looked questioningly at the other man.
Mike eyed him carefully. “DiNozzo,” he clarified.
Gibbs chuckled. “Tony doesn’t need me. He’s a great agent, best I’ve ever trained. He can handle the team.”
“That’s not what I meant, Jethro.”
He didn’t answer right away, letting his mind wander to the man in question. It was no secret to Mike that he had feelings for his protégé- feelings far beyond that of mentor and student and co-workers. Tony’s laugh and infectious smile were two of the only things he missed about his old life. That smile had awakened so many memories as his amnesia faded. Gibbs sighed and took a long pull on his beer. “Like I said, Tony doesn’t need me.”
“Bullshit,” Mike said calmly, the declaration all the louder for it. “If you truly believe that, Probie, maybe it is time for you to retire.”
“Mike, what are you talking about?” His tone reminiscent of the affectionate annoyance normally reserved for Abby.
Mike studied his friend for a moment then shook his head. “You really don’t see, do you? Or is that melon of yours still so scrambled you don’t remember? Ah, Hell, doesn’t matter; either way you’re being blind.”
“So, help me see,” he stated simply.
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Three Weeks Later
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode through the Navy Yard, a man on a mission. No one tried to stop him or question his right to be there, in fact, most people gave him a wide berth. He snickered internally at that, apparently he still had it.
A few moments later the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the NCIS bullpen. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt good to be there. This was his family. But that had been why he had to leave, between the amnesia and the Director’s betrayal he hadn’t been able to face any of them, let alone lead them. He took one look around the office, located his target, and made his move. Ignoring the gaping jaws, quiet gasps and not so quiet whispers, and even the shocked vocalizations from Ziva and McGee, he marched right up to Tony’s desk and without preamble barked, “Conference room, now.” He turned on his heel and headed back for the elevator trusting Tony to follow him.
The doors slid shut with an echoing schwump. A moment later the familiar flip of the emergency stop rang out in the silent car.
“Boss?”
Gibbs ignored the questioning voice and backed the younger man up against the wall. One hand all but pounded into the wall next to Tony’s head and he crowded closer until he was right up in the other man’s face. “Is it true?” he asked, steady and demanding.
Tony gulped. He wasn’t prepared for that. “Is what true, Boss?” h managed to get out.
Gibbs leaned forward impossibly closer to Tony’s face, his breath brushing his lips as he spoke. “You know what, Tony.”
Tony’s green eyes stared into the steely, sky blue ones demanding an answer he thought he’d hidden and buried for years. With a sigh he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the elevator wall, resigning himself to his fate. He swallowed and licked his lips- not seeing the way Gibbs traced the movement of his tongue hungrily.
He knew he was close to getting his answer; he asked again, calmly, quietly, his breath warm and moist against Tony’s ear, “Is. It. True?”
If he hadn’t been listening, if he had been anyone other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs, he would’ve missed the barely breathed, “Yes.”
Gibbs lowered his head, almost resting it on Tony’s shoulder and just breathed.
Tony’s skin tingled where Gibbs breath touched his skin and his entire body prickled from the too close contact. He felt exhausted, beat down, like the weight of the world had come crashing down on him with the quiet admission. He had fought for so long to keep it hidden, secreted his feelings away in that deep corner of his mind and heart reserved for the truly special and painful memories that moulded him. Tony knew the reason it had been so easy to lose his hold on that secret- when Gibbs left for Mexico it had torn that part of his heart open and he was still in the process of mending it. He was pulled out of his thoughts as a cold chill seemed to strike his entire body when Gibbs pushed away from the wall.
He flipped the emergency stop off and pushed past the doors before they’d fully opened; leaving Tony rattled in a way he never would be even under fire.
Ziva and McGee watched silently as their boss bounded up the stairs to the Director’s office two at a time. They eyed Tony warily as he exited the elevator a moment later.
“Tony?” McGee hedged.
“What did he say?” Ziva asked, ever more direct in her inquiries.
“Is he back?” McGee finally asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice- Tony was great at his job and at leading the team, but he, like everyone else, missed the cranky, coffee-swilling ex-Marine.
Tony just shook his head; he wasn’t sure he knew anything anymore.
Meanwhile, Gibbs had virtually stormed into the Director’s office, breezing past her assistant slash watchdog.
“Hello, Jethro,” she greeted calmly.
He was momentarily taken aback- not by her calm words, but by the sight of his badge and gun sitting stoically on her desk. Recovering quickly, he stood in front of her, quirking an eye. “Expecting me?”
“You could say that,” she replied in that same calm, smooth voice.
He reached out for the familiar items only to be stopped by the Director’s elegant hand covering them.
He gave her a patented Gibbs look, one that told her exactly what he thought about the stupidity of the implied question and said louder than words, ‘What do you think?’.
She let herself give him a tight smile as she removed her hand from his badge and gun.
Gibbs swept them up. “Tomorrow,” he said and she nodded in acceptance. “And DiNozzo is taking the day.” He gave her a sharp look daring her to challenge him.
To his surprise she merely nodded again.
He stopped with his hand on the door. “This doesn’t change things.”
“I know, Jethro,” she said with a touch of sadness as she watched the man she once loved walk out the door. Once the door clicked behind Gibbs, she let herself smile, she had a feeling her former lover was about to break his own rule 12. She chuckled softly, about damn time.
In the bullpen, McGee and Ziva were trading concerned looks over their friend’s silent state, but their attention was quickly drawn by a door closing a little harder than necessary. They all looked up to the landing expectantly and released a collectively held breath as the saw their boss clipping his service weapon to his belt.
With a bright smile McGee said to Ziva, “He’s back.”
“Boss?” Tony asked for the second time in fifteen minutes, though it seemed infinitely longer to him.
Before Gibbs could answer the elevator dinged and 115 pounds of over-excited goth plowed into him amid hyper cries of, “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the greeting from their resident forensic genius. “Hey, Abbs,” he said giving the woman a tight squeeze.
She pulled back from the hug and socked Gibbs in the arm, hard. “Don’t ‘Hey, Abbs,’ me,” she snapped angrily. “You left,” she added quietly.
Gibbs pulled her back into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She gave a little gasp at the words- words Gibbs never said, didn’t believe in saying. She pulled her head back enough to get a good look at her friend. “You’re staying,” she half asked, half stated.
Gibbs nodded once.
“Apology accepted,” she chirped in her decisive ‘you will not question the Great and Powerful Abby’ voice.
The older man kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear reassuringly, “I’m back, Abby, but there’s something I need to take care of first.”
Reluctantly, she released her vice-like grip on him, pausing to look deeply into Gibbs’ blue eyes. She smiled and nodded approvingly at what she saw there. “Go get ‘em, Bossman,” she said, stepping back with a flourish.
“DiNozzo with me!” he barked as soon as Abby had stepped back. “Bring your gear.”
“On your six, Boss,” he replied, smoothly stepping in behind the man who just minutes before he’d confessed to loving.
He wasn’t surprised when Gibbs reached out and flipped the emergency stop, but he was surprised at when.
Gibbs had jabbed the button for the garage and the floors ticked by in silence. The only time the car stopped, Gibbs glared at the young man poised to enter the elevator.
Wisely- if somewhat terrified- the young man had stepped back, mumbling something about taking the stairs.
They were just above the garage when Gibbs flipped the switch. He paced in front of Tony- no small feat considering the size of the car. On his third pass he stopped in front of the younger agent. Once again he got right up in Tony’s face. “Stop me,” he said quietly, giving the young man time to do just that before claiming his lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. After too short a time, Gibbs pulled back. “I’m going home; I’d like you to come with me. Your choice.” He flipped the switch and the elevator started moving again. It was just before the elevator ground to a halt when Gibbs spoke again. “And Tony, whatever you decide right now, my door’s always open for you.”
Feeling the surrealness of the day getting to him, Tony said lightly, “Your door’s open to everybody, Boss,” stepping off the elevator after Gibbs and falling into step beside him.
“Not what I meant, DiNozzo,” he said with a hint of a smile when Tony followed him.
The ride to Gibbs’ house was made in a calm silence; both men lost to their own thoughts, fears, and fantasies.
Tony barely noticed the ignition being cut and looked around somewhat surprised that they were already at Gibbs’ house. It looked different somehow- warmer, but maybe that was just his mind imposing his own wants and desires on the familiar structure.
“You coming?” Gibbs called over his shoulder.
“Yeah, Boss,” he answered automatically as he scrambled to catch up.
Gibbs chuckled as he opened the door. “Sit.” He jerked his head towards the large sofa once Tony had entered. “Beer?”
“Something stronger?” he replied, settling himself on the couch.
A moment later, Gibbs joined him, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other. Pouring up hefty amounts for both of them, he handed a glass to Tony.
He gratefully accepted the drink, leaning back to stare at the ceiling, still trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.
For a moment Gibbs eyes were transfixed on the long lines of Tony’s neck, watching the rhythmic pulse of his carotid as his skin moved with every breath the younger man took. Gibbs tore his eyes away from his companion, taking a heavy gulp of his bourbon, and giving Tony time to sort through the wild turn his life was taking. After all he’d had weeks to sort through it and decide on his course of action.
Finally his patience was rewarded with Tony’s warm voice asking, “I know why you left, but why’d you come back?”
Jethro turned his attention back to the man beside him- his head still back, eyes closed, and bourbon untouched. It struck Gibbs how vulnerable the man he loved looked and less than a second to realize that Tony didn’t think he was worth being the reason, He set his glass on the table and turned bodily to face the other man.
Warm, dry fingers brushed against Tony’s check and he stifled something that could’ve been a whimper.
“I finally realized I had a reason to come back.”
Tony let out a shaky breath and turned into the warm fingers still gently stroking his face. “Gibbs-”
“Jethro,” he corrected gently/
Tony slowly opened his eyes, the playful greens a welcome sight that caused Gibbs gut to turn pleasantly. “Hey.” He smiled when those eyes met his. Now that he knew he had Tony’s full attention, he did what he’d wanted to since the elevator. He closed the distance between their lips, an unexpected thrill running up his spine when Tony instantly responded. It was fierce and soft and sensuous and everything a kiss years in the making could be.
“I think I love you, Boss,” Tony panted once they’d finally broke the kiss.
“I know. And I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly- sorry wasn’t a concept Gibbs particularly believed in, and here he’d said it twice in the last two hours; even he knew there were exceptions and as he was slowly realizing Tony was his own exception.
“No apologizing, more kissing,” Tony reprimanded.
He quirked a smile, he’d been doing that a lot lately. “Gladly.”
Several hours later, the two men were still on the sofa. Jethro’s fingers running idly through Tony’s hair as the young man slept, stretched out over him like a blanket. He placed a soft kiss on his lover’s head and sighed. Mike had been right, and he almost missed out on it. But he had it now and he wasn’t about to let go.