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Part 9 of Risks
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import, ksl's works
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Published:
2020-11-05
Completed:
2007-09-09
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49,019
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12/12
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Risks 9: Familiar Risk

Summary:

The risky series continues. 

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

This story is slightly AU---as is most of the series.  Follows the show up to the episode Frame Up...and deviates after that.

Chapter Text

Gibbs eyed his lover of seven months.  Tony DiNozzo was taping his fingers against the table, keeping time with the drummer of the band on stage.  His lips were curled upward in a tiny smile, eyes half closed as he enjoyed the soft blues music that managed to fill the bar without making it impossible to carry on a normal conversation.   He appeared to be totally immersed in the moment---it was a good illusion, but Gibbs knew better.

                                

“Ducky said he’d be here.”

 

“I know.” Tony nodded, sighing softly.  He gave Gibbs a sheepish look.  “That’s kind of the problem.”

 

“It is going to be okay.”  Gibbs captured Tony’s restless fingers, discreetly trapping them with his own.  “Just like it was with Abby and McGee.  Nothing to worry about.”

 

“You’re sure?” 

 

He and Ducky had been friends for years.  He was sure the older man would have no trouble accepting them….well, reasonably sure.  Tony didn’t need to know he had any doubts, however minor.  So Gibbs made eye contact and held it, making certain his voice held nothing but confidence.  “I’m sure.”

 

Tony nodded again.  He squeezed Gibbs’ hand.  “Not really nervous…just, well, it’s not like we do this every day.”

 

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.  “You think it would get easier if we did, Honey Buns?”  He knew using Abby’s pet name for Tony paid off when the younger man grinned, relaxing back more into his seat.

 

“It might.”  Tony’s green eyes were no longer pensive.  “I mean, practice makes perfect and all that.” 

 

“We could plan a daily regimen.”  Gibbs offered, fighting back a smile of his own.

 

“Start small.”  Tony chuckled.  “One a week for a few months.”

 

“Work our way up to three a week.”

 

“One a day,” Tony offered.

 

Gibbs snickered.  That sounded like a vitamin.  “Maybe there’s a pill we could just take instead.”

 

Tony laughed, before his expression shifted to one of mock seriousness.  “Nuh-hunh.  Only way to truly get fit is diet and exercise.  No magic pill.  No miracle cure.  No trendy diets. None of that stuff works.”

 

Gibbs rolled his eyes.  “Should have known you watching infomercials with Abby would be a bad idea.”

 

“Not much else on at three in the morning.”  Tony shrugged.  “Well, other than B movies.  And we’ve seen all of them before.”

 

More than once, Gibbs thought, with a mental snicker.  How Tony could watch Godzilla take out Tokyo several times was a mystery.  Gibbs got tired of the bad acting and poor animation in less than ten minutes.  Although, he had to admit, listening to Tony and Abby create their own dialog had been pretty damn funny. 

 

Gibbs took a sip from his bourbon.  “Why in the hell did you have the TV on in her lab anyway?”

 

“Cause the mass spec will do its thing without anyone watching it.”  Tony frowned.  “Not that I know what it does exactly.”  He made a meaningless hand gesture.  “And staring at the computer while it runs through the zillion fingerprints on file is about as exciting as watching paint dry.  So we had to find something to do while we waited.”

 

“You couldn’t find something more productive to do?”  His tone was mild.  They case had been nearly closed by that point.  They were just seeking confirmation and double checking results; there wasn’t really anything else Tony had needed to be doing, or Gibbs would have made sure he’d done it then.  As it was, the most useful thing for Tony to be doing at the time was keeping Abby company.

 

“I’d already beaten her at Midieval II.” Tony shook his head.  “Course that was after she kicked my ass at Alien Vs. Predator.”

 

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.  “No elf lords?”

 

Tony laughed.  “No, we leave that to McGee.

 

Gibbs knew when Tony sobered and pulled his hand away that he’d spotted Ducky entering the bar.  The younger man hadn’t really ever taken his eyes off the door for long since they’d taken their seats.  It had been another indicator that Tony was anxious.

 

Ducky smiled warmly when he spotted them.  He wove his way among the tables, excusing himself whenever he crossed between seated patrons and the stage where the band continued to play.

 

“Hello Jethro, Anthony.”  Ducky greeted them both, shrugging out of his overcoat. 

 

“Hi Ducky.” Tony replied with a smile.  Gibbs just nodded, saluting Ducky with his glass.

 

“What’s your poison, Ducky?”  Tony signaled for the waitress. 

 

She was a pretty thing, Gibbs had noted earlier.  She flirted with Tony when they’d first arrived, but when he failed to return her interest, she accepted it with good grace, backing off.  Didn’t mean Gibbs wasn’t going to keep an eye on her.  They might not advertise they were a couple, but no one was going to make a move on what Gibbs considered his.

 

“Hello there.”  Ducky smiled at her, getting a warm smile in return.  It was rare that people didn’t respond positively to the ME’s friendly manner and accent.  “Macallan.  Neat, if you please.  Mineral water on the side. No ice.” 

 

“Coming right up.” She looked at Gibbs and Tony, her eyes lingering a bit longer on Tony.  “Refills?”

 

“I’ll have another beer,” Tony told her, smiling, but not making eye contact with her.

 

Gibbs shook his head, holding his hand over his glass.  He wouldn’t mind another, but if Tony was having a second, Gibbs would be driving them home.  And one was really more than enough. 

 

Ducky glanced around the bar as the waitress walked away.  “Lovely little pub,” he said.

 

Gibbs had to agree.  He’d been surprised the first time he and Tony had come here.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting but the simple elegance of the place had been immediately appealing.  The dull sheen of polished maple hardwood floors was broken by red and black area rugs under each table.  The tables themselves were simple, unadorned save for a single candle, and carefully arranged to ensure everyone had a good view of the stage.  The stucco walls were painted red and decorated with black and white prints of Blues musicians like Muddy Waters, Bessie Smith, Louis Jordon, Nina Simone and Etta James.  The acoustics of the place made it easy to enjoy the music without having it be overwhelming, and the customers ran the gamut of social strata; everything from businessmen in suits and ties to construction workers in jeans and t-shirts.

 

“Rather reminds me of a place I used to frequent when I lived in Bristol .”  Ducky tipped his head toward the stage.  “Minus the style of music, of course.  Not much in the way of Blues to be had there.”

 

“Really?”  Tony blinked.  “I always thought Blues was universal.”

 

“The melancholy and angst that inspires it is universal, my dear boy.”  Ducky chuckled.  “But the style is uniquely American.  Oh, we have something similar in Britain now, but personally, I feel it is still better done here.”

 

Gibbs let them talk music, enjoying listening to their conversation.  Ducky was an aficionado on a number of subjects, and Tony was no slouch when it came to areas of personal interest to him.  Music was one of those.  Movies, cars and history were others where Tony showed a level of knowledge that easily equaled Ducky’s.

 

Gibbs smiled to himself, belatedly realizing how much his lover and his old friend had in common.  They both drove classic cars.  They both enjoyed people and telling stories…albeit Tony’s were usually shorter than Ducky’s and easier to follow.  They were both rather forgiving of their friends’ faults and foibles.  And they were both naturally charming, gaining trust with a ready smile and approachable demeanor.

 

If he were honest with himself, it was that character trait Gibbs envied at times.  It was actually one of the reasons he’d hired Tony.  The younger man put people at ease where Gibbs just made them nervous.  Simple one on one with witnesses or victims was something Gibbs didn’t feel he excelled at to the same degree he did with interrogations.  He preferred to let Tony or someone else on the team handle those.  Ziva and McGee were getting better at it, but they still had a long way to go.  Sometimes Gibbs helped them out when they floundered; he could only remember having to help Tony once.

 

After several minutes of discussing the evolution of Blues to Jazz and then to Rock and Roll, Ducky sipped his scotch before pinning both Gibbs and Tony with a sharp eyed look.  “While I appreciate the invitation, gentlemen, and have enjoyed both the ambiance and the conversation, I got the distinct impression you’d asked me to this lovely pub for more than that.”

 

“We did.” Gibbs instinctively captured Tony’s hand, offering reassurance when he saw the younger man’s shoulders tense, and getting reassurance in return.  “We have something we want to tell you.”

 

Ducky smiled, looking pointedly at their joined hands.  “I am being welcomed into the fold then?”

 

Gibbs arched an eyebrow.  “The fold?”

 

“The lucky few you have trusted enough to reveal your relationship to.”

 

“You knew?”  Tony gaped at him.  

 

“I’ve known Jethro for a very long time, Anthony.  And I’ve come to know you almost as well.”  Ducky’s smile was gentle, almost paternal.  “I may not be a detective, but I am an astute student of human nature.”

 

He sighed, blue eyes glowing behind his glasses.  “A blind man could see you two love each other.”

 

“Shit.” Tony cursed softly, looking suddenly uneasy.  “What did we do wrong?”

 

“Wrong?”  Ducky shook his head.  “You did nothing wrong.”  He leaned forward, expression earnest, tone soothing.  “Anthony…Tony, please, I didn’t mean to imply either of you are careless or blatant in displaying your affection.” 

 

Ducky clucked his tongue.  “On the contrary, you’ve both been decidedly circumspect.  As is fitting, given your professions.  Not to mention your being supervisor and subordinate on the same team.  You are to be commended for taking such care.”

 

Tony frowned.  “But you said—“

 

“To those who know you, yes it is obvious.”  Ducky assured him.  “And I know what to look for.  I have seen Jethro involved in other relationships.” Ducky pointed a finger at Gibbs.  “I do think, however, that what you have with Tony is far better than anything else I’ve had the opportunity to witness.  He is definitely good for you.”

 

Gibbs grinned.  “I think so to.” 

 

Tony ducked his head, a bit of color rising in his cheeks.  Ducky reached out to pat Tony’s forearm.  “And you, my dear boy, seem far more settled.  More comfortable in your own skin than when you and I first met.”

 

Tony smiled shyly.  “Thanks, Duck.”

 

“Familiarity and keen observation aside, I am trained you know.”  Ducky’s smile broadened.  “I’ve been doing quite well with my course work.”

 

“Didn’t think forensic psychology applied to the living,” Gibbs said dryly. 

 

“Studying what the dead were like when they were alive is useful on many levels, Jethro.  It can be applied to more than just what I am paid to do, as you are fully aware.”  Ducky shot him a dark look.  “Much the same way your being sneaky has worked well in more arenas than just as a sniper.”

 

Gibbs dipped his head, accepting the chastisement.  He hadn’t meant to belittle Ducky’s continuing education.  He just didn’t see it as necessary.  Ducky was already one of the most capable, intelligent men Gibbs had ever met.  Going after another degree seemed a bit like ‘hauling coals to New Castle ’, as Ducky might say.  Although, Gibbs was willing to concede the classes Ducky was taking had paid off on at least two occasions. 

 

Ducky’s expression brightened again.  “So, am I in good company?”

 

“Hunh?”  Tony blinked. 

 

“Who else knows?” Ducky asked, waving a hand in an encouraging gesture. 

 

“Just Abby and McGee.” 

 

“No one else?”  Ducky seemed surprised.  “I thought for certain you’d have said something to the Director.”

 

Gibbs shook his head.  “Not sure that’s a good idea, Duck.”

 

“Ah, yes.”  The older man nodded sagely.  “Past history there would affect things, I suppose.”

 

“You knew about that too?”  Gibbs stared at his old friend.  He shouldn’t be surprised.  Abby had pointed out that his history with Shepard was something of an open secret, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

 

“Subtle you are not, my friend,” Ducky told him. “However, it was not anything you said or did that made the past you share with the Director so clearly identifiable.  No, I’m afraid it was she who let the cat out of the bag with how she has acted around you.”

 

Tony grimaced.  “Pushy broad.”

 

“I’d say you’d insulted a lady, but unfortunately you may well be right.”  Ducky chuckled, lightly touching his glass of scotch to Tony’s beer.  “Being pushy no doubt got her where she is today.  No mean feat for a woman to be head of a federal agency.”

 

Ducky sipped his drink.  “What about Ziva?”

 

“Don’t know yet if I trust her that much,” Tony said, shrugging one shoulder, looking apologetic.  “I like her…just—“

 

“Say no more.  I understand.”  Ducky pursed his lips.  “It should not matter who one loves, provided both are consenting adults, but it is an issue that tends to be divisive among people in general. Strange that it should be, but then there is much about human nature I continue to struggle to fully comprehend.”

 

“You seem okay with us.”  Tony’s statement was more of a question.  He had obviously expected a reaction more akin to what they’d gotten from both Abby and McGee—a little shock and a lot of curiosity.  Gibbs was expecting something similar.  He suspected Ducky might know, but he still thought the older man would have more questions.

 

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you start to realize what is important and what is trivial.”  Ducky chuckled.  “Believe me when I say your happiness is far more important than any bias I might consider indulging.”

 

He cocked his head to one side.  “Besides, you are my family.  How could I not accept your choice when it so clearly is good for both of you?”

 

Tony’s smile went a little stiff at the mention of family and Ducky’s correlation to it and easy acceptance, but he relaxed a moment later making Gibbs think for a second he’d imagined it.  Given what he knew of Tony’s parents, Gibbs knew better.  And other than his Aunt Sully, family was likely not something Tony saw as a positive thing.  Maybe it was time to work on his definition of family, Gibbs mused.  Abby was like a little sister, McGee a geeky cousin, Ducky a kindly grandfather.  They didn’t make for any more dysfunctional a group than any other family.

 

“And it isn’t as if your being together comes as a total surprise to me.”  Ducky smiled.  “I could see the attraction between you years ago.”

 

“Really?”  Both Gibbs’ eyebrows rose.

 

“Yes, really.”  Ducky laughed softly.  “I told you before…you are not subtle.”

 

Tony chuckled.  “Busted.”

 

Ducky saluted him with his glass before finishing his scotch.  “I am, deeply grateful that you trust me enough to share something so precious.  For that, I thank you.”

 

“You don’t have to thank us, Ducky.”  Tony ducked his head.  “We should have said something sooner.”

 

“Better late than never.” Ducky laughed, giving Tony a wink.  “I am well known for my patience.  Unlike either of you.”

 

Tony grinned.  “Thanks, Duck.”

 

“You are most welcome.”  Ducky patted his arm again.  “And how long have you two been together?”

 

“Seven months.”

 

“I rather expected it was longer.  A year at least.”  Ducky blinked. “Perhaps you have more patience than I gave you credit for.”

 

It wasn’t patience, Gibbs thought with a mental grimace.  It was lack of nerve.  He resolutely told himself he was not going to dwell on how long it took him to finally make a move, or on the time that was lost. 

 

Tony opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by his cell phone.  “Excuse me,” he murmured, pulling it out to check the caller id.  He frowned.

 

“Problem?” Gibbs asked when Tony didn’t answer the call. 

 

“Area code is familiar, but I don’t recognize the number.”  Tony shrugged, tucking his phone back into his belt.  “It’s not work related.  Probably a wrong number.”

 

“You have don’t have a Volkswagon for sale, do you?”

 

Tony laughed.  “Hell no.”

 

Gibbs struggled to keep a straight face.  “Not your kind of car?”

 

“Jethro, please.” Ducky rolled his eyes.  “Those have absolutely no style.  Nothing like the beautiful mustang Tony currently possesses.”

 

“Or your Bentley.”  Tony raised his beer to Ducky.

 

“Indeed.”  The older man smiled.  “She is an amazing lady.”

 

Gibbs shook his head as he listened to them debate the merits of different cars.  He should have known better than to get them started.  God help him if Ernie Yost ever got to talk to both of them at the same time about cars.  He’d definitely need more than one drink.

 

Ducky finished off his water, glancing at his watch before giving them both an apologetic look.  “While I’d like to continue our fine evening, I’m afraid Mother gets worried if I’m not home at a decent hour.”

 

“No problem, Ducky.”  Tony stood with him. “About time we got headed home too.”

 

“We’ll have to come here again.”

 

“Sure.”  Tony grinned.  “We’ll bring Abby and McGee.”

 

“Wouldn’t think this was Abby’s sort of place,” Gibbs said.  It seemed a bit too tame for her.

 

Tony lightly punched his arm.  “She’s into more than leather bars and screaming guitars.”

 

“She is rather eclectic in her tastes.” Ducky agreed as he shrugged into his overcoat.

 

“True.”  Gibbs had never met anyone with as wide ranging interests as Abby seemed to possess. 

 

He followed Ducky and Tony as they headed for the door.  He placed his hand on the small of Tony’s back, the gesture almost unmistakably possessive. The waitress smiled resignedly when she passed by, tipping her head to him, letting Gibbs know she’d gotten the message.  

 

“Glad you’re not a dog or my dry cleaning bill would be huge,” Tony said with a laugh after wishing Ducky a good night.   

 

“She started it,” Gibbs replied as he got into the driver’s seat.

 

“What are you…five?”  Tony snickered, settling into the front passenger seat. He leaned in close to give Gibbs a quick peck on the cheek.  “You don’t need to worry.  She’s not my type.”

 

“No?”  Gibbs gave him a slant eyed, teasing look.  “And what is your type, DiNozzo?”

 

“I got this thing for a bad-ass Marine with silver hair and blue eyes.” Tony’s voice dropped, husky and warm.  “Take me home…and I’ll show you.”

 

Gibbs shivered, gripping the steering wheel hard.  He swallowed hard.  “Put your seat belt on.”

 

“Already done.” 

 

“Good.”  Gibbs floored it.  From here, on a good day, they could be home in twenty minutes.  Gibbs intended to get there in less than fifteen.