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Part 2 of DiNozzo!
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DiNozzo! What The Hell Are You Doing!? Go Back To Bed Now!

Summary:

Please re-read title carefully and then read note. *eg*

Work Text:

DiNozzo! What The Hell Are You Doing!? Go Back To Bed, Now!
by Shawna

 

Tony coughed again certain that a decade had passed before the cough faded. He winced and lay back down in his bed.

Now that he was home, he enjoyed the change from the uncomfortable hospital bed to his far more comfortable and lavish bedroom furniture. He sighed while he tried to focus once more on his nice, chic, expensive flat screen television. Damn, he normally loved Hitchcock but right now, oddly enough, he was bored as hell.

Tony looked over at his clock. Bright, florescent red numbers informed him that only ten minutes had passed since the last time he had checked.

He pressed the back of his head deeper into his pillow, sighing once more. A short cough followed quickly after. Rolling his eyes, he turned off the television and lay there in total, dark silence. Now it was *too* silent.

The sound of his own breathing was the only thing there to keep him company.

Damn, he hated this! Being sick. Being miserable. Being alone. He had absolutely nothing to do but be sick and alone...and oh, yeah, lets not forget the miserable part!

Tony tried to think of a movie about being sick, miserable and alone. It was strange but his mind was drawing a blank. How awful was that? How wrong! The one thing he was good at eluded him when he most wanted that ability. Kate would be doing the Snoopy happy dance if she knew.

Damn. Being sick sucked. Really sucked. Nearly dieing sucked. Oh, yeah, opening an envelope with the plague in it, wins the prize since it sucks the most!

He was sure that Death had been there to take him to the next level in the life/death cycle that fateful day. The Grim Reaper had his number, the boarding pass was all set for the trip until that crazy, wonderful man he loved stepped into that room with an order that had to be obeyed, no matter what.

~'I said...You. Will. Not. Die.'~

Gibbs' voice floated back into Tony's mind. It reminded him of that order. This was an order his mind, heart and soul willed themselves to obey. What else could he do? Those words told Tony without a doubt that Leroy Jethro Gibbs, needed him, more than Death wanted him.

Besides, it just felt right. Tony needed Jethro as well, which was a thought that would scare the average, normal human being. The
recovering agent knew his need and love for the man he called 'Boss' was far more than respect, even though he did respect the man. It was an all encompassing love, a love that grew every time Gibbs looked at him, or smiled or... He truly needed and loved the man who was his boss. Death itself was even afraid of the old Marine. Which was smart. Very smart.

Tony looked once more at the clock. It was late. Kate, McGee, Ducky and Abby should be at home now in bed. After a long, busy day...

A long, busy day without him in it, damn it!

Gibbs was home by now, no doubt working on his boat. Tony closed his eye as he attempted to visualize the man of his dreams in his basement, relaxing. Over on a sawdust-laden table, there would be a dusty bottle of Jack Daniels next to some well-used tools. His strong, callused hands would be holding sandpaper that would be making slow, long strokes along one of the ribs of the land locked boat, willing the wood to do exactly as he wanted it to do. Blue eyes narrowed slightly as a splinter impaled itself into a finger. Still, Tony could picture Jethro to continue sanding, perhaps late into the night or even into the early morning; maybe not going to bed until two-thirty or three A.M.

Tony swallowed. No one would be there at this time of night, only a few agents on the graveyard shift. Other than that, the building would be quiet and almost deserted like a ghost town or a haunted building...dark yet with a few lights.... quiet hums of computers...waiting...

His boss' floor would be abandoned. There were lots of nights he went to work after everyone left. He would go when no one would watch him be the workaholic that he knew himself to be. He would work on reports, follow up on leads. All this midnight oil helped the illusion that made it appear as if everything came extremely easy to him.

~'How did you...You didn't lift a finger or move from your desk all morning!'

‘Work smarter, not harder Katie!' Tony told the profiler with a wide smile.~

It was his own secret that he did indeed really work harder. He was loyal to his job of being a Special Agent. The work was serious and he could be serious, when he needed to be.

Plus, to be honest to himself, he sometimes had a hard time sleeping and needed to ‘work', so that is why he 'burnt the midnight oil'. He loved doing his job, doing what need to be done.

Right now, though, he was forced not to. DAMN IT!

What would Gibbs do if he were in his place? Tony knew for certain that Gibbs sure as hell would not stay in bed *resting*. He would fight. Though...as he recalled...the former Marine had never been sick. *Never*! Lucky damn bastard.

Lucky damn handsome as hell bastard.

Tony flung off his covers. Okay, he was going to do it. Now...yes, now. He was going to get out of bed. Now. All right, in a minute he was going to be able to move and get out of bed. Yeah, he was going to go in and catch up on the cases he had been working on and find out what new cases had come in. All he had to do was get out of his nice comfortable bed. A bed he already spent too much time in.

Surprisingly, it took Tony three attempts to finally rise from the bed. He felt dizzy and slightly sweaty for a moment before sluggishly moving around the room. He took off his pajama bottoms and slipped on his favorite jeans.

Tony tossed his bed a contemplative look. He felt it's seductive call but he determinedly tightened his jaw. He had already spent too much time in bed! Really he had! No more...Nope, no more.

He really needed to catch up on his files. Needed to work. Needed to do something useful. Be useful.

No one would have to know or need to know that he went in for an hour or two. Just one hour. Maybe two...How bad would that be? Not bad at all, he assured himself. The recovering agent was going stir crazy and he definitely was not going to allow the fact that he felt like crap get in the way.

This week had dragged on long enough! The Director gave him four weeks of sick leave, which was nice but hellish all rolled together. HELL! A week in the hospital was understandable and necessary. Now he had been home for a week and a half already. He had taken all the medications and followed all the rules they had given him at his discharge, but he was done with all that outrageousness. To hell with all that! He was going in to work!

Tony coughed violently as he slipped on his expensive Italian leather shoes after he had decided it was better not to bend over. If he had he knew he would simply fall over and stay upon his very comfortable, light brown carpeted floor. His mind wondered as he realized he had never noticed how fluffy and comfortable his carpet looked. His brow wrinkled in thought as he realized he had not put socks on prior to putting on his shoes, but then simply shrugged. He slowly looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He looked so sickly. So white, he could have been a ghost. Dark circles under his eyes gave him an almost at 'death knocking at your door' appearance. The dark circles under his eyes truly enhance his ghostly manifestation.

Tony swallowed hard to force himself to look away from his face. Tony glanced down at his outfit of the faded blue jeans, his favorite Italian leather shoes with no socks, and his genuine silk, dark blue pajama top bearing an expensive brand label. He sighed. He felt and looked like crap! He looked pathetic! Now he just needed to hold out a bowl and ask, "More soup please, Sir?" and he would be even more sad and pitiful.

He wheezed a deep breath. He could stay here. Go back to bed. He had a very nice bed...

...a nice bed where he could remain bored and alone. Doing nothing.
Being nothing except a pathetic, sad and pitiful DiNozzo. *Or* he could go to work and not be bored, sad and pitiful. He could feel as if he was doing something important. Be someone important. Do what he loved doing as well as remind himself that he was alive.

Tony nodded to himself in the mirror, the decision already made.

No one he cared about would be around to know that he was wearing a pajama top and leather shoes with no socks. He slipped on his brown leather coat and called a cab, since he knew driving himself would truly be a dangerous move for both himself and the innocent drivers on the road.

***

DiNozzo entered the main lobby and said ‘Hi' to Greg, the grave shift security guard. The man stood still, staring straight ahead as if he was a soldier on guard. Tony always assumed he slept with his eyes opened for the other man never did anything, never seemed to blink. Flinch. A few times when he had come back to work very early in the morning, he would poke Greg a couple of times just to get some sort of reaction. Hell, he had even told him dirty jokes, very funny ones just to see any movement in his granite-like face. He would have done a victory dance if he even saw a hint of a smile rise from the corner of his mouth.

Tony smiled at him as he came to a stop. He was sure if he had not been an NCIS agent, Greg would do something to him. He had heard rumors that Greg had once been a Navy Seal. Very, very dangerous to get on the bad side of...and yet Tony could not help but tease danger.

"Greg The Rock, my own personal Teal'c, how are ya, dude?" He sluggishly threw his arms out and hugged the big bear of a man. Greg did not move, did not return the hug. He coughed into Greg's huge chest. "I missed you, my friend...and yeah, I know you missed me too." Tony felt Greg's muscled arms. Man, they were huge! "I hope you got these naturally and not with steroids, cuz I heard they shrink a guy's package. Not that I care about your package but you're a friend and I care about you."

He gave Greg a quick pat on the shoulder before starting to move towards the elevators. He had taken only a few steps before he heard a low rough southern voice, a voice he had never heard before since in all the years at that post, Greg had never once said a single word to him. "Yeah, I care about you too and if you had died I would have been pissed." As an afterthought, the large man continued,"...and you should be taking better care of yourself, Agent Tony. You look worse than crap does."

He looked back at the big man with teary eyes, deeply touched. "It means a lot to know that, Greg, you know, except for the line about me looking worse than crap does..."

"I speak the truth," he interrupted the ailing agent. "Someone should be taking care of you or making damn sure you don't leave your bed until you're better or until you don't look like an poster child from a "Feed the Children" campaign."

Tony rolled his eyes before he covered his mouth as coughs raked his body. He moaned slightly. "I liked you better when you never said a single word." With that he was gone from Greg wanting to get to work.

The elevator doors opened and he entered. Pushing a button, it took moments to get to the bullpen. He entered the area of offices that Gibbs called his personal territory. His office. The one place that Tony felt at home. Totally comfortable. He stopped and looked around. Kate, McGee and Gibbs' desks were dark and silent. Much like his own. He quickly reached over and turned on his desk light.

Tony felt comfortable and peaceful for the first time in days. He was back where he belonged! He rolled back his chair and sat down. He sighed happily before he coughed a little, but for the first time the cough did not bother him. He felt happy. Almost peaceful at knowing things were going to be okay. He was going to be okay. Life would get back to normal. He would live. He would work. He would belong. He looked over at his boss' desk. Tony pictured the man he had secretly loved for so long. He could see him clearly in his mind's eye.

Tony smiled.

He could even hear him...

~'I don't pay you to sit on your ass looking dumb, DiNozzo, get to work now or you can go home and read the Classifieds to get yourself another job.'~

At that 'encouragement', Tony would instantly look as if he was working before taking a quick peek at his boss under his lashes. That vision would stay with him until he needed to look at him again. If lucky, he would see Gibbs with that thoughtful ‘I'm about to figure this out' look on his face. Or Tony's personal favorite, the look of satisfaction and bliss on Gibbs' face after the first sip of fresh hot coffee. The way that man holds a cup of coffee was as if it was a treasured lover. The way Gibbs thumb caressed the side of the cup, running his thumb slowly up and down, feeling and memorizing the warmth of the cup and its' contents. Smelling it, welcoming it, loving the coffee. He practically made love to it before curling his lips onto the top, titling it gently, for the first sip. The look of pleasure, intense. The sigh of happiness, unforgettable. Tony wanted to be that cup or at least be the person, a lover who would put such a look on the older man's face.

"I doubt even as a lover I could do that," Tony whispered under his breath in the quiet room. After shaking his head he began to check a few things on his computer. He had missed so much time in the office, it would take weeks to catch up.

Time went by. Quietly. Happily. Every once in awhile coughs would overwhelm him but he dealt with it. After around twenty minutes, Tony straightened suddenly, he checked his surroundings quickly. He tried to focus once more on his computer, yet looked around once more. For some reason he felt as if he was not alone. He thought he felt eyes studying him, which was ridiculous since no one else was there!

He blinked slowly before looking back to his computer, staring at it like it contained almost all the answers. Maybe being sick was making him crazy. He was convinced it had already made him loony! He knew no one was here. Especially Gibbs. No way in hell was *he* here. Why would he be here? Wishful thinking perhaps? Did he miss his boss? Tony knew Gibbs would be home now. Maybe he was sleeping with his boat in the dark, dusty basement.

Tony coughed, long and hard before groaning. Damn! Why did everything have to hurt? He tightened his jaw, still determined to study his computer screen. He needed to get some work done! Simply had too! Nothing was going to stop him, damn it, nothing!

At least he honestly believed that until he felt a familiar smack to the back of his head. Surprised more than hurt he produced a loud squeal. He would never admit that it sounded a wee bit girly. With his hand to the back of his own head he turned his chair so he could see the intimidating man close beside him. How the hell could the old Marine sneak up on him like that?!

"Boss!" Tony whined pathetically.

Beautiful determined blue eyes gave nothing away as they stared back at him. Gibbs' face was serious, hard and steadfast. His voice soft as he asked, "What do you think you're doing, DiNozzo?"

Tony swallowed intensely and looked nervously at his computer. Tony pointed to it as if it was the culprit, as if the computer was to blame for everything wrong with the world. Which sometimes, he was sure, Gibbs felt that way.

"Um..." Tony tried to say something, anything really, but his mind drew a complete blank! Damn!

"You're on sick leave. Want to know why? Because you're *sick* and you should be *resting*." Gibbs stated with a pointed look.

"But I've been resting, Boss, honest! I'm even feeling better! A hundred and twenty percent better! Really, I'm in great...health." His words were proven to be nothing but lies as a cough once more raked over his body, making his whole body shaky and weak. It took a few minutes to control the coughing spell. "Really...Gibbs...I'm fine. Honest," he wheezed trying to catch a breath. A much needed breath.

Gibbs gave him a look that virtually could have been considered a glare except there was no heat or anger. Just concern and, Tony examined closer ...was that...worry? "Get up, Tony. I'm taking you back to bed, where you belong."

"But...I don't wanna..." Tony whispered before falling silent under Gibbs' very intense blue eyes. They were now demanding him to follow orders. Reluctantly, Tony stood up sluggishly and began to follow his boss a few steps behind. He dragged his feet upon the ground, he pouted as he gave his desk one last soulful yearning look.

In the elevator Tony could not stand the silence. It may have sounded stupid but he did not really care. "You normally don't stay so late, Boss. It's way after midnight."

"I know and I didn't stay. Came back." Gibbs gave him a sideways glance. "I ordered Greg to call me the moment you showed your face. I knew you'd try this. Now listen to me Tony. The only way you are allowed back in to this building again is with me at your side, approving your return. Right now it's not okay for you to be at work. You look like a strong breeze could knock you right on your ass."

Tony's shoulders sagged in defeat. It wasn't fair damn it, and a strong breeze could not knock him on his ass...Well, okay, maybe there was a *possibility* but he would quickly stand right back up again, he knew he would.

Maybe he could find a loophole to Gibbs' verdict...

"I know you, DiNozzo, you're stubborn, you're not coming back to work until *I* okay it. Not any damn doctor's note. Not even Director Morrow ordering to let you back, hell not even if Ducky asks me too. No one but *me* decides when you come back."

"But you need me...I mean..." Tony recognized that look. Gibbs meant business. He sighed sadly, "I got you, Boss."

"I might let you come back early from sick leave but not too early. I'll wait until you simply look like crap. Right now you look like death is about to take you at any moment."

"It wouldn't dare," he whispered back with a smile.

Gibbs gave him a half smile that always made his heart melt. "No, DiNozzo, it wouldn't," he agreed before asking, "Did you drive here?"

Tony found himself leaning heavily against the elevator wall. Feeling extremely weak now, just now realizing that he'd pushed himself too hard and had done too much. What the hell had he been thinking? "No, I didn't drive," he murmured.

The doors opened.

"Good boy! Saves me the trouble of kicking your ass when you feel better."

"Means a lot that you would have waited, Boss," Tony stated with a groan when he forced himself off the wall and slowly followed Gibbs. "Hey...Boss? Can you not move so fast?"

Gibbs stopped and gently took Tony's elbow with his hand saying softly, "Don't be afraid to lean on me if you need to, DiNozzo...or even when you don't."

"Thank you," Tony whispered, meaning those words with every fiber of his being.

"Now, come on," Gibbs ordered tenderly as his hand moved from Tony's elbow to his waist, guiding him.

Soon Tony was lead out of the NCIS building to his boss' car. He was then helped in. The sick agent coughed as he weakly fumbled with the seat belt. He sighed with relief when he finally heard the locking click and then he leaned his head back onto the headrest. He closed his eyes. He listened to the oddly comforting sounds of Gibbs entering the car with him. The elder agent clicked his own seat belt and starting the engine. The car seemed to purr instantly as Gibbs moved it forward and out onto the road.

There was silence in the car. Tony did not bother to open his eyes, as he needed to rest them. Unbidden thoughts flooded his fatigued mind.

Damn why did he love the man beside him so much?

Why?

Tony sighed. He knew why. It was because the man beside him was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He did not have to have a reason for loving him, he simply did. Though, if pushed, he could come up with a million reasons, if he had too.

The man he loved was taking him home. Back where he would be doing nothing, again. Back to being sick, but worse than that, being alone.

"Have you changed your number, yet?" Gibbs broke the silence.

Tony jerked his head, quickly opening his eyes to look at his boss. "No," he stated truthful, softly.

Tony watched him, as Gibbs' eyes stayed on the road. The former Marine wet his lips before he said purposely, "When you do I better be the first one you give that number too, DiNozzo."

"You really expect me to change my number?" Tony asked surprised.

Only then did Gibbs' eyes leave the road to narrow on him for a moment. That was all it took. Tony received the silent message. Naturally Gibbs expected him to have his number changed since Gibbs had suggested that back in the hospital room.

"Right. I got ya, Boss." Tony nodded and coughed. "You'll be the first one I give my new number, promise."

"Good. You don't need people calling for 'Spanky'. No one should be bothering *my* people in that way."

There was silence once more.

"Hey, boss?" Tony whispered, closing his eyes once more, being sweetly lolled by the car's movement down the road.

"Yeah?"

"Remember when you told me not to die?" Tony's head was rocking to the movement of the car. "Well, Death was in the room with me...I know it may sound silly but...you scared Death off and...I...I thank you for doing that."

Gibbs did not answer him. Minutes passed by, then miles passed before Tony tried to explain himself better. He was not a smooth talker like all those leading men in those countless movies he had watched over the years.

"I mean..."

"I know what you mean, Tony."

"I honestly thought you were the Grim Reaper to come take me into the bright white light. I wanted you to take me away...I mean, I wanted it to take me away from all the pain then you came along and smacked my head and I realized you were really you and you were serious."

"You thought I was the Grim Reaper?" Gibbs asked. Tony could hear the humor in Gibbs' voice.

Tony turned his face towards Gibbs once more opening a single eye. "Have *you* ever seen yourself in the morning without coffee? You're scary as hell. It made perfect sense for Death to impersonate you. Nowadays a black robe and sickle just doesn't place much fear into people as it did before. You should copyright yourself before it's too late." Tony said with humor before coughing.

Then he closed his eyes with a groan before he whispered, "I wish I could be as strong as you, Boss."

"You are," Gibbs quickly answered back as they came to a stop. "We're here; now lets get you inside."

Tony sighed resignedly, not wanting to be back home, back to being bored, back to being alone. He sluggishly opened his eyes. He sat up then blinked rapidly after gazing at his location to clear his obviously confused vision. He turned his shocked, truly stunned face towards Gibbs.

They were in front of Gibbs' house! Tony had been so relaxed in Gibbs' presence that he had not paid any attention to the direction Gibbs had been driving. Some detective he was!

"Boss?"

"I'm getting your ass into bed and keeping you there," Gibbs warned exiting the car.

"I wish you meant that in the way I want you to mean that," Tony stated softly to himself while he was alone in the car. At least now though he would not be alone, he would be around Gibbs. His Jethro.

"When did you last eat?" Gibbs asked as Tony climbed out of the car and closed the door. The recovering agent slowly walked up the older man that was patiently waiting for him on the front porch.

The thought of food seriously turned his stomach. In fact, it did more than that; it lurched, leaving an aching sensation throughout his body. His face twisted with disgust.

"A little bit ago," Tony grunted, swallowing forcibly. He crossed his fingers and hoped that Gibbs would believe the half-truth.

He followed Gibbs into the house and squinted as the older agent turned on the lights.

Gibbs turned to him, lifted a silver eyebrow and inquired, "How long ago is ‘a little bit', Tony?"

Tony shrugged.

"Tony..."

"I don't remember...I...I'm not hungry. Don't force me to eat Gibbs, please," Tony begged. "I swear it won't stay down."

"I'll make you some vegetable broth..."

"Boss...please..."

Gibbs studied him closely. "All right. You get some shuteye first, but the moment you wake up, you're going to eat. I'll be going to your apartment to get a few of your things while you are resting."

"I got you, Boss. I'll eat whatever you give me. Thanks for all you're doing for me," Tony told him before coughing. Then he slowly, extremely tiredly, moved towards the guest bedroom.

"Tony." Gibbs voice stopped him in his tracks. The younger special agent looked back at him. Gibbs' head jerked towards his own bedroom. "Take my bed."

"Are..." Tony could not have heard him correctly and if he did he could not be more surprised. The same kind of shocking surprise he would feel if Kate and McGee announced that they planned to run off to Vegas to have a wild time. Though if they did, he wondered if they would get married by one of those Elvis impersonators...But never mind that. Tony shook his head trying to put his mind back to the situation at hand. "Are you serious? Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't offer it unless I was sure and serious, DiNozzo. Now get in there and go to bed before you fall down."

"Um...I...don't think I can sleep comfortably in these jeans..." Tony said with a huge yawn.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Then sleep naked, I do. Now go in there and rest."

Now how in the hell was he going to ‘rest' in Gibbs' bed? A bed he now knew Gibbs slept *naked* in?

"GO!" Gibbs ordered sharply, pointing with a finger pointing towards his room. "Now!"

He quickly, for a sick and tired man, moved to do as the Gunnery Sergeant had ordered. As always, Gibbs *must* be obeyed. No matter what.

Tony lay in Gibbs' bed. Tired. He felt extremely weak, as if he had forced his body to do way too much, way too soon. Which maybe, if he thought about it, just maybe he had.

Damn that plague!

But at least he was allowed to sleep in Gibbs' bed. The smell of his boss, the man he loved, comforted him, soothed his soul, calmed his heart.

He heard a soft sound. The room was dark. The only light came from the hallway. The door creaked open while Gibbs walked in, quickly, silently and placed a glass of water on the bedside table.

Tony could feel Gibbs' eyes upon him. He lay stunned, yet deeply touched as Gibbs' tucked the blankets tighter around him. He then felt a gentle touch as a hand lightly caressed his hair.

"I'm glad you follow orders," Gibbs stated tenderly, oh, so very affectionately.

"Only for you, Boss," Tony whispered back subtly which elicited still another hard, hacking cough. When the cough subsided, Tony snuggled tighter into the warm soft blankets.

Gibbs continued to stand over him, to protect, to comfort, to keep him safe. The experienced agent bent down close to the resting agent's body, almost a replica of the moment when he approached Tony in the isolation unit at the hospital to demand for Tony to live. This time though, he caressed Tony's hair. Breathing across the dark strands, he continued the relaxing movement; it was a slow, soothing, comforting, at times barely touching, motion.

"Go to sleep," Gibbs ordered peacefully. The order had no threat or sharpness to it.

"Right..." Tony's voice was fading as he yawned deeply. "Not...that I'm sleepy or anything."

Still slumber began to pull him under its' soft veil to a necessary rest that would allow his body some time to relax and recuperate. Tony's breathing dropped to a steady, yet deep, rise and fall of his chest. He was sure it had to be his imagination when he felt soft lips brush his forehead.

"I love you, Jethro..." Tony breathed out as if the most natural response possible.

Tony suddenly jerked his eyes open as he realized what he had just said, seriously hoping the man he loved and respected had not heard those words of devotion.

"Of course you do, Tony and I'll let you in on something, I love you as well. Now, sleep," Gibbs murmured contentedly, still close to his love.

Tony closed his eyes once more and, with a smile, he went to sleep. Tony could not wait until he opened his eyes in the morning for a new life would begin with the man he loved.

There was no doubt about it because Gibbs told him that he loved him. Gibbs always says what he means and if anyone would be foolish enough to call the man who Death was afraid of, a liar...



(The End)

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