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2020-11-04
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Missteps

Summary:

Summary: Every rule has an exception.
Notes: This was written for the ncis tinsel exchange, for James. While I couldn't fit emotional h/c, physical h/c, angst, UST, and a happy ending all into one fic, I tried my best. Consider this Angst Lite.
also--bonus points for spotting the episode references.
Submitted through the NavyNCISslash2 mailing list.

Work Text:

Missteps
by rebecca

It would be really, really nice, Tony thought breathlessly, if for *once* they got a case that didn't involve chasing a suspect through a crowded area full of people and other non-moving objects. He dodged a chair, slipped between two overloaded backpacks, and spared one brain cell to admire the girl in the pink sundress before putting on a burst of speed and trying to catch up.

He was gaining on the guy; he could make out the stripes in his shirt and hear the thuds of his sneakers as they hit the ground. Just a little more--and the guy was going down a flight of stairs, which meant he'd have to slow down. Perfect!

Only Tony hit the top of the stairs and Ziva tried to get past him and accidentally tripped him. He fell, unable to catch himself, and tumbled down the stairs to land painfully at the bottom. Ziva spared him one apologetic look before sprinting after their suspect; Tony tried to get up but only landed on his ass again when his right ankle gave out.

Well, fuck.

He was up and moving--well, limping--by the time Ziva, Gibbs, and McGee came back over. But no suspect. "Where'd Jameson go?" he asked, hopping up the stairs to meet them.

"He got away." Gibbs had his Scowl of Death (tm) on, which did not bode well for the recipient.

"How's your ankle?" Ziva asked, looking rather like Gibbs had directed that look at her. Tony couldn't quite squash the satisfaction from that--she'd tripped *him*, after all, and if she hadn't he might have caught Jameson.

"I don't think it's broken," he said, trying to rotate it and only making himself gasp in pain. "Sprained, maybe."

"Officer David," Gibbs said brusquely. "You and McGee search the area. Find out where Jameson went and bring him in."

McGee grimaced but didn't bother arguing and Ziva...well, Tony had a feeling Gibbs had torn a strip (or two) off her already. They turned and left.

"I'll be okay, Boss," Tony said, leaning against the concrete wall of the building next to them. "I'll get home and ice it and wrap it and it'll be fine."

"You'll get it checked out first, DiNozzo. Come on, I'm taking you to the ER."

"Don't you have work things to do?" Tony asked, hoping he didn't sound as pitiful as he felt. "I can get myself--"

"Try putting some weight on that foot and tell me that. I have work things to do, DiNozzo, and one of them is taking care of my team." Gibbs glared at him and Tony shut up. There was no arguing with Gibbs when he was in a mood like this.

They made it to the car without *too* much trouble, although there were a couple of spots where Gibbs had to support him. Tony bit his lip and reminded himself firmly it was just his boss helping out a member of his team. Nothing more.

Damnit.

Tony kept his eyes closed on the drive to the hospital; between the dull nausea from the pain and Gibbs' driving, he wasn't sure the contents of his stomach would stay where they were otherwise. As it was, he was wishing for some ginger ale when they arrived and he could hop inside and give his name and information to the triage nurse.

Thankfully, the hospital wasn't busy. He was able to get in and be seen within five minutes. "I don't think it's broken either," the doctor said thoughtfully. She rotated his ankle gently and Tony bit back the gasp--broken or not, that still fucking *hurt*! "But we'll do some X-Rays to be on the safe side."

"Great." He grinned as brightly as he could. "My favorite."

She laughed. "I'll get an orderly to help you out." She smiled again and Tony thought that she was kind of cute

Having the X-Rays done was annoying but not too uncomfortable, although waiting for them to come back seemed to take forever. And it didn't help that Tony was keenly, uncomfortably aware of Gibbs still out there in the waiting room--well, unless he'd gone back to the office and left Tony to catch a cab home. Which was still within the realm of possibility but unlikely, given how adamant he'd been about helping Tony get to the hospital in the first place.

Tony wondered if Gibbs would have been this insistent about taking care of Ziva. Or McGee. He kind of hoped not, even as he told himself that yes, Gibbs probably would.

God, he was an idiot.

The doctor came back in then, jolting him out of his thoughts, and he looked at her with gratitude. "So what's the deal?" he asked brightly. "Am I gonna live?"

There was a time not too terribly long ago when that question would have been serious. Tony shook off memories of blue lights and Nurse Emma of the healthy lungs and--and--he grinned at the doctor instead.

"You'll live," she said dryly. "No breaks, not even a hairline fracture. You got lucky. Wrap it, ice it, keep it elevated--"

"I know the drill," Tony said with a grimace.

"I'm sure you do. Let me wrap it for you now, we'll give you a set of crutches and you can be on your merry way." She went to a cabinet and took out an ace bandage, coming back over to him and wrapping his ankle quickly and efficiently. Her hands were cool against his skin and he felt the smooth band of a wedding ring on her left hand.

He couldn't help the sigh of relief when she finished; the support felt too damn good. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

"All part of my job description. Just stay off it for a couple days." She patted his leg. "I'll go get you some crutches."

"Thanks."

A little to his surprise, Gibbs was still there when he swung into the waiting room. "You done?" he asked, standing up.

"Just a sprain, Boss. I'll be fine."

"I've got no doubt about that, DiNozzo." Gibbs headed for the door and Tony followed, wondering if he could manage without the crutches.

From the way his whole leg protested when he tried, probably not. Damn. That meant desk duty until it healed, and he really, really, *really* hated desk duty.

"McGee called while you were getting checked out," Gibbs said on their way to the car. "They found Jameson."

"Is he in interrogation?" Tony asked.

"No, he's in Autopsy." Gibbs shrugged. "He fired at Ziva; McGee fired back."

"Why didn't Ziva?"

"She did. She missed."

Was that a note of satisfaction in Gibbs' voice? Tony wasn't sure.

He tossed his crutches into the back seat and swung himself inside, shutting the door and buckling his seatbelt. "So back to the office?" he asked.

"Not for you, DiNozzo. I'm taking you home." Gibbs started the car and pulled out of the parking space. Tony grabbed the 'Oh Shit' handle out of reflex, even though they were still in the parking lot. There was no such thing as being too careful with Gibbs' driving.

"Um, Boss--not that I mind the early day--" Although he did, kind of, and as much as he disliked paperwork he was still capable of *doing* it. "--but I've got reports."

"Ziva can do your paperwork for one day," Gibbs told him, making a right turn out of the parking lot.

"Why--"

"Because she tripped you, DiNozzo, and when one of my people injures another, I'm not going to let that slide. I don't care if she didn't mean to do it. Her training should have enabled her to watch her damn surroundings!" Gibbs merged into the left lane and Tony closed his eyes, not wanting to see the eighteen-wheeler behind them.

He wanted to argue the point--sort of--but Gibbs was right. And the bruises on his side and his back agreed. Frankly, all Tony wanted to do was go home, tape a plastic bag over his foot, and take a hot shower. He was going to feel this for a few days.

Still didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing his job, or that he wouldn't go into the office if told to do so. He'd had worse playing football in college, after all. Breaking his leg--yeah, that counted as worse than a stupid sprained ankle.

"Someone's going to have to give me a ride in tomorrow," he said, looking out the window. "Because there's *no* way anyone's driving my baby."

No one drove his car but him, and especially after Chip-the-bastard--that was his name, in Tony's mind. Chipthebastard. It fit. There was no way even Abby was getting her hands on his keys.

"I realize that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said testily. "Someone will pick you up."

Tony kind of wished Gibbs would pick him up--and not in the 'give him a ride to work' sense. But...no sense going there. Ever.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, aside from the occasional car horn when Gibbs cut someone off. Tony wondered idly if driving like a madman was part of Marine training, or if that was just Gibbs. He was pretty sure it was the latter.

He didn't open his eyes until Gibbs parked, but he blinked in confusion at seeing the garage under his building rather than the street outside. "Boss?" he asked in confusion. "You could have just--"

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, getting out of the car. "I'd like to get back to the office before Ziva breaks something *else* today."

Whoa. Tony hadn't seen Gibbs this pissed at someone since McGee had sent him on that panty raid. He wondered if Gibbs was even talking to Ziva at this point.

Work tomorrow would be interesting, to say the least.

Gibbs came around the car and handed him his crutches. Tony swung himself out and hopped over to the elevator--only to see the sign "Out Of Service" on it.

"Well, fuck," he muttered, turning and swinging himself toward the stairs. This was going to be fun.

"Does anything in your building ever work?" Gibbs asked wryly.

"Depends on the day and the alignment of the stars, I think. See, when Mercury is rising, I think--ow!" Tony ducked his head where Gibbs had cuffed him. "Boss, you're smacking an injured man, here!"

"Your head wasn't the part that got sprained, DiNozzo. Come on, let's get you up to the third floor before Venus crashes, or Pluto does handsprings, or whatever is going on this week."

It was a slow progress up the stairs; Gibbs took one crutch and Tony pulled himself up using the other crutch and the rail, one step at a time. Funny; the third floor hadn't seemed so high up when he'd taken the apartment.

He had to pause on the second floor landing, catching his breath. One more flight of stairs and he'd be able to collapse on his admittedly ugly but insanely comfortable couch. Just for a moment, though; then he turned back to the stairs and began pulling himself up again.

Two steps from the top, he slipped on something and his foot went out from under him, making him pinwheel wildly for a moment before he fell backward. Shit--this was going to hurt more, and what were the odds, and--

Strong arms caught him and Tony looked up into Gibbs' face.

"Hi," he said, feeling a little hysterical. "Um--"

He meant to tell Gibbs he was fine, or to set him back on his feet, or something, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"You all right, Tony?"

Okay, that was weird--Gibbs was using his first name and he hadn't released Tony yet and there was something different in his voice and God, but Tony needed to stop thinking this way because it wasn't getting him anywhere. "Um--yeah," he said, a little hoarsely.

"You sure?" And Gibbs *still* hadn't released him.

Well, no, he wasn't exactly fine. He had one working foot and was currently being held up by his boss's arms--the boss he'd been lusting after for a really, really long time now. But..."I think so?" he offered.

Damn. He hadn't meant that to be a question.

"Right." Gibbs sounded about as sure as Tony felt, and what the *fuck* was going on here?

"You can--you can let me go now," Tony said carefully.

Wait. What the--there was pressure against his right thigh, right where--and holy shift. Gibbs was *hard*? With Tony against him, and with--no, it couldn't, but...

Tony looked up at Gibbs again. Well--the worst Gibbs could do was fire him, right?

Only Gibbs apparently had the same idea Tony did, because he leaned down at the same time Tony stretched up and their mouths met.

Lightning. Tony swore he saw sparks and if his hair wasn't standing on end, it should have been. He felt decidedly singed by the time Gibbs pulled back and set him back on his foot. Whoa. Um. That had been unexpected, to say the least, and...well, now what?

"I--" Gibbs shut his mouth, shaking his head. "That shouldn't have happened, Tony. That *can't* happen."

Great. Gibbs didn't want him after all. Tony bit his lip and hauled himself up the next step, mentally berating himself for being a moron as well as updating his resume. It shouldn't be *too* hard to find a new job, right? Although the reason for leaving would be interesting. 'I fell in love with my male, ex-Marine boss, and he found out'. Yeah. That'd go over well.

"Tony." Gibbs came up the stairs past him and turned to look at him. "It's--" He sighed. "It's got nothing to do with you, Tony."

"Really." Tony kept his head down, studying the linoleum of the stairs. He tried to go up another step but Gibbs blocked his way.

"Look at me."

Only he couldn't, not knowing what he'd see in Gibbs' eyes. Pity, probably. Or disgust. Either way, it was nothing Tony wanted to deal with just then. Or ever, really.

"Tony." Gibbs' voice was firmer, and Tony was too used to that tone of voice to disobey. He looked up, but--well, that was weird. He couldn't read Gibbs' expression at all, and that worried him.

"It's not you," Gibbs told him.

"Uh huh. Tell me another one, Gibbs. I think I heard that one last week from Debbie. 'It's not you, it's me.' That one's right up there with--"

"Would you just shut up for a moment?" Gibbs said in exasperation. "Listen to me, Tony. It's not you, and it isn't me. It's got nothing to do with what I want, or with what you want. But I'm your *boss*, Tony. I can't get involved with a member of my team--"

"Especially a male member," Tony finished. "Yeah. Can you move out of my way now, please? I think there's a hot shower calling my name, assuming my hot water heater didn't break along with the elevator."

Gibbs stepped to the side, letting Tony push past him. "This doesn't change anything, you know," Tony said over his shoulder. He fished out his keys, but didn't open the door just yet. "It doesn't change what I want. And it doesn't change what you want--well, depending on what that is. For all I know, you wanted me to--" He sighed. "Anyway. I just--I don't see what changes now, except that you know--" He froze on the words, unable to get them out. "Well, you know."

He didn't hear Gibbs move, but suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and a warm body at his back. "I know," Gibbs said quietly. "But what happens when this goes wrong?"

"You say that like it's a foregone conclusion." Tony pushed his door open and hopped inside, dropping the crutches next to the couch and falling down on its wide soft cushions. "Is it?"

"I've had three wives. How many girlfriends have you had--this month? And we work together, Tony. Not as equals, but as boss and subordinate. This can't happen." Gibbs shut the door behind him.

"And yet you're not leaving." Tony sighed and dropped his head back on the arm of the couch. "Why, exactly, is that?"

Gibbs smiled wryly. "I don't know." He crossed over to Tony, sitting down on the low coffee table. "I made the rules for a reason, you know."

"Every rule has an exception," Tony pointed out. He sat up and shoved a couch pillow under his foot before letting himself lie back down.

"Yeah." Gibbs reached out and brushed Tony's hair back. "I thought I'd had mine."

"Well, I haven't had mine yet, so..." Tony shrugged. "Gibbs, if you're just telling me this isn't going to happen and we're both going to forget what happened on the stairs, that's fine. I'll do that, and you can leave, and someone else can give me a ride into work tomorrow. If you're telling me that you--that we--" He stopped, because his brain couldn't make his mouth wrap around the words. "That there could be something," he said carefully. "Then--"

"I'm telling you I don't know.. That every rational, intelligent, *sane* part of me is telling me to get up and walk out your door." Gibbs smiled a little. "But gut instinct is telling me otherwise."

"Is your gut ever wrong?" Tony asked. He turned his head to look at Gibbs, pillowing one arm behind his head. "Trust that, Boss."

"Yeah." Gibbs sighed. "Yeah."

For a long moment, nothing happened. Just...nothing. Tony was about to give up and say something, *anything*, when Gibbs leaned forward and kissed him again.

Oh.

Whoa. Tony licked his lips, feeling a little unsteady even though he was lying down.

"We can't let anyone find out," Gibbs said softly. "Not even Abby or Ducky."

"Try keeping something from those two," Tony retorted. "But I'll try."

"Fair enough." Gibbs smoothed Tony's hair back again. "Think you're up for a shower? It'll help the bruises."

"That's about *all* I'm up for," Tony admitted. "Sorry, Gibbs, but--"

"Tony. All I'm asking is if you want a shower. We can figure out the rest later." Gibbs stood and held out a hand. "Come on."

He sat up slowly and turned to Gibbs, reaching out and clasping the man's arm. Gibbs pulled and Tony got to his good foot smoothly. "Figure out the rest later, huh? Which rule was it that involved always planning one step ahead?"

Gibbs cuffed him upside the head.

end