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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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388
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comment fic response - Boat. Bourbon. Basement. I get it

Summary:

Prompt: From tejas -  NCIS, Gibbs/Tony,  "Boat. Bourbon. Basement. I get it."

Work Text:



comment fic response -  Boat. Bourbon. Basement. I get it.
by hawk

 

"I get it, Boss."

Gibbs looked up from where he was sanding the boat, the slow rhythmic movements soothing away the stress of the day. His senior agent was seated about half-way up the steps, his bottle of bourbon in one hand, a mug in the other. As Jethro watched, Tony poured a good amount of the liquor into the mug, lifted it in a mock salute and then took a healthy drink. He saw the slight wince that crossed Tony's face as the alcohol hit the back of his throat and smiled slightly. He knew that delicious burn, could almost taste it himself.

And then Tony was at his elbow, offering up his own mug. Jethro took it with a small sigh and tipped the cup to his lips. "Thanks Tony," he said, lifting the cup in Tony's direction. When he was finished, he picked up a second piece of sandpaper and handed it to Tony. "Long, even strokes," he said as he began sanding again.

Tony nodded and began to sand the boat, losing himself in the rhythm quickly. "I really do get it now, Boss."

"Get what, Tony?" Jethro asked.

"Boat, bourbon, basement. I get it now."

Jethro smiled. It had been a hell of a day and Tony had taken the brunt of the verbal abuse doled out by the victim's family. It wasn't easy taking the abuse some people could hand out and these people had poured it on -- venom dripping from every word. Tony had taken it all; the abuse, the blame for allowing their daughter to get killed, everything. And, when it was all over, he'd walked away, head held high.

Jethro had found him much later, curled into a ball on his sofa, his eyes empty and lost. And he'd bundled him up, packed a quick bag, and ushered Tony to his car. The drive had been silent as had the two hours since then. It had taken a while for him to get it, but the tension was already rolling off Tony. With each pass of the sandpaper, Jethro could see Tony's shoulders relax just that much more. He smiled. It was a simple formula really. Maybe he should patent it: boat, bourbon, basement -- repeat as necessary.

 

end