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Gibbs held the sausage up to his mouth and arched a brow, watching his dinner companion and cook. Fornell moved toward the table, untying the apron he was wearing. Fornell. In an apron. In Gibbs’ house. It was a lot for him to adjust to. It would have been amusing in other circumstances, but right now it made him itchy.
Gibbs tried to shake off his unease, dishing up some of the salad and looking toward the living room, where gentle snores were coming from the couch. Gibbs turned back to Tobias, arching a brow. “Just us tonight?”
“DiNozzo ate before coming home,” Fornell replied easily, his expression neutral. “He had a burger with one of his frat brothers in town. Had a couple too many beers if ya ask me. You’re going soft, sending ‘em home while you do the paperwork.” Fornell speared some pasta, dredging it in the sauce. He chewed thoughtfully, watching Gibbs, his eyes narrowing.
Gibbs knew the tactic and he just waited it out. Tobias would talk when he was ready, and Gibbs wouldn’t push. That wasn’t his style unless he was interrogating, and he wasn’t. Yet. He knew Tobias must have a lot of questions, but Gibbs wouldn’t give anything away.
Sure enough, between bites of sausage, salad, and the best damn Italian meal this side of Tony’s Nonni, Fornell broke the near-silence.
“Real thing, Jethro?”
“What?” Gibbs asked, trying not to turn around, even though he wanted to eye Tony’s sleeping form. He’d given far too much away as it was. And Tobias was different—he was more than a work colleague. As strange as it was, he was Gibbs’ friend. And he and Tony had kept this quiet. Nobody knew about them—not even Ducky and Abby.
“You. DiNozzo. Real thing?” Tobias asked, that annoyed patience creeping into his voice.
Gibbs cocked his head and took a far too large bite of salad. He was gonna make Tobias work for this one. He chewed slowly, enjoying the way frustration made Tobias press his lips together, his eyebrows moving up his forehead as he waited for Gibbs’ answer. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Tobias motioned to the ironing board. “You iron his damn shirts, Jethro. You…you…”
Gibbs had to press his lips together to hold back his smirk.
“You moved him in! You never did that with any of the others.”
“Wrong,” Gibbs replied with a smirk. “Diane lived here for the twenty months we were married. Then she cleaned me out.”
“Familiar story.” Tobias attacked his food with gusto.
“ You married her. I warned you. Where’s the garlic bread. Ya can’t have pasta without garlic bread. What the hell kind of Italian cooks like this and forgets the garlic bread?” he barely resisted the urge to say that his Italian wouldn’t forget it.
“I didn’t forget it,” Fornell replied, hissing the words through his clenched teeth. “It’s warming.”
“Not in my oven,” Gibbs retorted. “Remember, you have to turn the nob just the right way.”
“Jethro! Forget about the damn garlic bread and answer my question.”
“Shhh! You might wake Tony,” Gibbs snapped back automatically, internally wincing as the words came out.
Tobias gave Gibbs a shark-like look and Gibbs could only shake his head. “Real thing,” he replied, finally glancing over his shoulder. Only Tony’s crossed ankles were visible, poking out from under the blanket.
“You sure you want this? You’re getting soft in your old age.”
“Tony’d disagree,” Gibbs remarked, smirking when Tobias’ cheeks colored. He slipped into the kitchen, turning the oven on before reaching into the fridge and pulling out a six-pack. He wandered into the living room to get a better look at Tony and then went back to the table. “It’ll be done in five minutes. Slow down.”
Tobias slowed down and began discussing Emily. Gibbs listened quietly, hand wrapped gently around the beer bottle, condensation collecting under his fingertips. While he enjoyed hearing about Tobias’ daughter, some days it brought up memories of his own little girl and what he lost. Gibbs’ eyes drifted to the butterfly magnet on the fridge, something that had once held his daughter’s artwork, and smiled. Things were tough some days, but with Tony on the scene, Gibbs was becoming more and more himself.
“Still here, Fornell?” The sleepy voice and shuffling steps reached Gibbs ear just before a gentle kiss was dropped on his head. “Jethro.” Tony breathed in deeply. “Garlic bread?”
“Yep,” Fornell replied and Gibbs watched the two other men exchanging appraising looks. Fornell’s body language conveyed acceptance, and Gibbs felt a knot of tension between his shoulders begin to ease.
“Smells good,” Tony finally allowed, looking away. He wandered into the kitchen and Gibbs met Fornell’s eyes, knowing he had to be looking embarrassed.
“What?” Gibbs finally snapped. Tony came out, plate of garlic bread in hand, and sat down, munching on a piece.
“Nothing,” Fornell replied, looking Tony up and down. DiNozzo’s tie was gone, his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing his muscular chest. He’d kicked his shoes off before coming to the table, and his expression was relaxed and relatively unguarded.
A bolt of pure predatory need came over Gibbs and he shoved his chair closer to Tony’s. “You’re not getting my leftovers,” Gibbs shot back, slapping at Tony’s hand as he grabbed for a second piece of bread.
“Didn’t say I wanted your leftovers,” Fornell retorted. As Tony reached for a piece again, he slapped Tony’s hand away from the food. “You snooze, you lose, DiNozzo.”
Tony sniffed and shook his head, but Gibbs could tell from the curl of his lips that he was happy with this development. Gibbs reached over, smoothing Tony’s hair down. He knew he was all but broadcasting that DiNozzo was his, but he couldn’t help it. Tony’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned in to Gibbs’ touch.
Fornell wiped up the last of his pasta sauce with a piece of garlic bread, gesturing to Tony with it. “Like this ex better than the last.”
“I’m not an ex,” Tony protested.
“And he won’t be. Don’t get any ideas, Tobias.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?”
“No!” both men chorused.
“Fine, then I get the last piece of garlic bread,” Tony replied, chewing noisily. Gibbs headslapped him gently, more because Tony expected than deserved it.
“Real thing, huh, Gibbs?”
“Yup!”