SquidgeWorld Archive

Tony watched as Gibbs slammed his hand down on the steering wheel once, and then twice, as he peered out into the snowy gloom. They were well and truly screwed here. A possible suicide had to be investigated north of Baltimore, close to the Delaware border. They’d driven north in cloudy weather early this morning. Ducky and Palmer had left with the body just after they’d arrived, before the snow had really started. Ziva and McGee had left together with the evidence about three hours ago, just as the first flurries had given way to more regular snowfall.

But he and Gibbs had stayed around, talking to Petty Officer Jones' parents, and interviewing the guys he'd been out drinking with last night. The interviews hadn't taken as long as they could have, and it seemed like a cut and dried case of a guy who couldn't get beyond the horrors he'd seen during the war. But there had been a few suspicious pieces of evidence that meant NCIS was involved.

Tony and Gibbs had gotten on the road about an hour ago, as the snow was falling steadily and they'd barely made it past Aberdeen Proving Ground, north of Baltimore. “Boss, maybe we should go to a hotel,” Tony ventured, gesturing to a small strip of shops just off Interstate 95, the main north-south artery. There looked to be a few hotels and even a steakhouse there.

“You could use a rest,” Tony pointed out. The driving was white knuckled. Even though there were few people out on the major highway, the six inches of snow that had fallen in such a short time made the driving dangerous, especially in such a low to the ground sedan. It wasn't as if they had a lot of clearance or a better chance at traction, as an SUV might have had.

Gibbs growled as the car lurched, going into a small skid. “Fine,” he muttered, steering the car slowly toward the exit. It took a full five minutes for them to negotiate the exit ramp and the overpass. Gibbs cruised past a strip of budget hotels, all bearing “no vacancy” signs. He growled again and pulled into a WalMart parking lot. It advertised a Starbucks and Tony could almost see Gibbs' eyes glinting at the faint memory of caffeine pouring through his system. Gibbs hadn't had a coffee in hours, and given the stress of the drive, Bossman needed it.

“Getting coffee,” Gibbs announced. “Get us some clean, dry clothes and meet me at the registers.” He got out of the car and strode toward the brightly lit store.

Tony nodded, pulling his coat around himself and coughing reflexively when the cold air hit his lungs. Every time he was out in the cold, his chest tightened right up. Gibbs turned around and took a few steps back, the bastard disappearing and worried lover coming to the forefront for the moment. “Inside, Tony,” he urged and Tony knew Gibbs would have a warm drink waiting for him, maybe a hot cider or a holiday latte.

Tony headed to the men's department, while Gibbs waited in line at the coffee shop. There was a line there, which Tony was a little surprised about, but it made sense. It was Starbucks after all!

He stopped at Menswear, finding a couple of long sleeved T shirts for Gibbs that would look great with those blue eyes of his, a pair of gray chinos in Gibbs' size, too. He pulled down a comfortable flannel shirt in a red and black plaid that he knew would look amazing on Gibbs. No sense in Tony not enjoying the view; the way the snow was coming down, they might be stuck here overnight. And yeah, it wasn’t Macy’s or any designer shop Tony would favor, but the clothes looked to be well made and would serve their purposes.

Tony drifted over to another rack, shopping for himself. He snagged a couple of long sleeved baseball shirts, a warm chamois fabric button down and a pair of jeans. Just as Tony was about to head for the underwear area, his cell phone rang, the Caller ID displaying Gibbs' name.

“We're screwed,” his boss said without any introduction.

“What?” Tony asked, trying to comprehend.

“Sixteen to eighteen inches expected today and another seven to nine tomorrow. They're closing 95 any minute now and issuing a restricted travel order. Get enough gear for us for a couple of days, Tony. And call McGee and let him know what's going on.”

“Hotel?” Tony choked out, his mind racing.

“Got that covered. “ Gibbs named a big chain hotel and disconnected. Tony stood numb in the store for a second, one hand on his cart and the other on the phone. He zoomed back and picked up a couple of sweatshirts, and a pair of jeans for Gibbs, and another pair of comfortably worn jeans for himself. It took a few tries before Tony could get through to McGee. The storm must be messing with communications, he realized. In a rushed tone of voice, Tony told McGee they were stuck north of Baltimore. The relief in McGee's voice was palpable.

“Tony! We thought you were stuck. There was an eleven car pileup on 95 just south of Baltimore,” McGee informed him. “Serious injuries, maybe fatalities. Miles of backup.”

“We'll be here for a couple of days, Probie.” That was a conservative estimate. If they had over two feet of the white stuff, it could be more like three or four days.

“Good luck being with Gibbs so long,” McGee said, promising to keep them updated on the case before disconnecting the line.

Tony stowed his phone and moved to the underwear section, grabbing some undershirts and boxer briefs for Gibbs and some boxers for himself, as well as thick socks for them both. He also snagged some comfortable knit pajama pants and long sleeved waffle knit shirts for them to wear around the hotel room. Tony even threw in a pair of Christmas novelty boxers that said “Present inside” over the fly.

He looked around, determining that Gibbs was nowhere to be found, and ducked into the electronics area. There was a limit to the about of Gibbsness he could deal with one on one, without any woodworking projects to speak of. Tony slipped a cheap DVD player into the cart and a half dozen movies, Miracle on 34th Street and The Christmas Story alongside some of the latest blockbusters. It wasn't Blu Ray, but the quality would be fine hooked up to a hotel TV system. He went around the corner to the book section, slipping the latest books by Ken Follet, James Rollins, Steve Berry, and Lee Child into the cart. He selected some puzzle books and Sudoku magazines, grabbed some pencils from the school supplies area and then made his way to the food aisle, his stomach growling all the while.

Maybe it was because Tony was so hungry, but much of what he tossed into the cart was comfort food. Doritos for Gibbs and Smartfood cheese popcorn for him, some soda, some microwave popcorn, Cherry cordial candies, flavored Candy Canes. Trail mix went in, as did a six pack of Dominion Ale—their favorite beer. Tony also added some granola bars and little holiday cakes.

At least their backpacks were in the car and he didn't have to hunt down shaving kits and soap and stuff like that. It'd streamline the process a bit. And Tony had comfortable shoes in his pack, thank goodness because Italian leather was going to get laughed at by this deep snow.

All of his shopping done for now, Tony made his way to the checkout area, noticing Gibbs was still two people back in the line for coffee, but that he held a pound bag of coffee. It wouldn't be his prized Jamaican Blue roast, but it would be something the coffee connoisseur in Gibbs would love; Tony was sure of that.

He placed his items on the belt and watched as the total climbed, finally pulling out his credit card. Hey, it was Christmas and this was kind of a gift to both of them. Between their schedule and Gibbs' need for solitude after work, they hardly ever saw each other, and that made Tony twitchy. It wasn't enough to see Gibbs trudge wearily up the basement stairs after a marathon session with whatever he was working on downstairs—the basement was off limits to Tony during Christmas. Seeing Gibbs for just a few moments before bed and at the dinner table wasn't enough and Tony was going to enjoy the hell out of this forced togetherness time.

He wondered if Gibbs would dare get two rooms and leave him to his own devices, but Tony was sure bossman wouldn't do that, that he'd want to be close to Tony...wouldn't he?

He signed his receipt and wheeled the full cart over to Starbucks, watching his lover as Gibbs shifted from foot to foot, anxiousness carving deep lines into his face. When Tony approached, Gibbs turned to him, giving him the flash of a small smile.

“Got enough there, Tony?”

“Well, it's Christmas,” Tony pointed out with a shrug. Gibbs opened his mouth, intending to say more, when the person ahead of him took her drink and moved off, wishing him a merry Christmas. Gibbs thanked the woman—he actually thanked her—and placed his order for a Venti coffee, plain. He turned to Tony, angling his glance.

“What'll it be?”

Tony studied the menu for a moment, ordering a Venti Gingerbread latte. Gibbs rolled his eyes and rocked back on his heels, glancing over at Tony. “We have a room at the hotel. That lady ahead of me is a manager there. She's reserved us a suite with a hot tub and the big entertainment system.”

Tony winced, knowing NCIS would yell about the prices, even at government rate, but before he could speak, Gibbs cut in. “Two rooms at government rate are much more expensive than a suite with a fold-out couch, even if the suite is luxury. We might as well enjoy it.”

Gibbs glanced at the bags, clearly noting the items sticking out of them. “You get enough, Tony? We might be here a couple of days. Fifty mile an hour sustained winds are gonna make 95 damn near impossible to drive.”

“We're good. Clothes, pajama pants, entertainment.” At that, Gibbs smirked. “Snacks and stuff.” His stomach let out another growl at that, and Gibbs shook his head.

“Restaurant at the hotel is open. Soon as we get checked in, we'll get some lunch. You talk with McGee yet?”

“Yeah, they all got back fine, but they were worried about us.” Tony winced as he imparted the next bit of news. “There was a pileup on 95 and they were worried that we might have been stuck in it.” Tony had known that the roads were tough to travel, but he hadn't expected a major accident and was glad Gibbs had chosen to stop when he did.

“Guess we're snowbound then,” Gibbs said, not sounding at all depressed by the idea.

“Guess so,” Tony echoed, trying to hide his smile.

They got their coffees and walked out to the car. Tony's legs were freezing in his suit pants and his shoes and socks were getting wet. He winced at the realization that his shoes would take a beating and shivered when the cold wetness coated his feet.

“Inside. I'll load up,” Gibbs ordered, handing Tony his coffee.

“You sure?” Tony asked, aware that he must look pathetic shivering the way he was.

“I'm sure,” Gibbs insisted. “And when we check in, you change right away. Not having you wet and cold and getting sick on my watch.”

They never mentioned the plague, but Tony knew it was always on both of their minds, especially when the winters got cold and damp and Tony couldn't pull in air effectively. Deciding to listen to Gibbs, he placed the coffees on the hood and opened the door that Gibbs unlocked with the remote control, sitting in the passenger seat and sipping his coffee as Gibbs loaded the car quickly. The snow was really coming down now, visibility was awful, and Tony was so damn glad that they weren't on the highway, where they could have been stranded or trapped for hours—or longer.

Gibbs got in beside him, taking a pull of his piping hot coffee. “Alma says the hotel is just around the corner, so belt in. It may be a bumpy ride.”

Alma was right, the hotel was only barely out of sight, across the street from a McDonalds, with what looked to be a nice in-house restaurant. The parking lot was only a third full, and Gibbs was able to find a spot right outside reception. He strode inside, warning Tony to stay put and that he'd only be a few minutes.

And he was right, coming out with a hotel key in his hand, which he stuffed into his overcoat. Tony got out as well, and Gibbs pointed silently toward the door. Tony shook his head stubbornly, reaching for his pack and attached laptop bag and slinging Gibbs' gear over his shoulder as well. It was standard operating procedures for them to load packs and laptops into the fleet cars, because they never knew when a situation like this could arise.

He watched as Gibbs managed to grab the rest of the gear, and Tony carried the coffees inside. “Fourth floor, end of the corridor,” Gibbs told Tony. “They’ll have a fresh pot of coffee on in the restaurant for when we get there. You get us enough stuff in case we’re here for a few days?”

“Think so,” Tony replied, looking at the bags. “Couple of shirts, a flannel, a couple of long sleeve Ts.” He knew Gibbs had a short sleeved polo or two rammed tightly in his pack. “Jeans and chinos. Underwear, pajama pants.”

“Get enough for an entire week?” Gibbs questioned, smirking.

“Hey, I'm always prepared.”

“Bet you are,” Gibbs shot back in an undertone. “Did you get lube?”

LUBE?

Tony's eyes widened and he mentally headslapped himself. He hadn't picked up any, had to hope that they had enough in their respective shaving kits.

“No,” Tony replied, whispering. “Do you have much?”

“Brand new bottle,” Gibbs said, patting his jacket pocket. “That was what took me so long. Knew you'd get DVDs and crap to eat. I picked up the essentials.”

“But I'd forget the important thing,” Tony muttered, feeling his face heat up.

“Ya did good,” Gibbs assured, rattling the bags. Even though he had no real idea what was in them, he seemed convinced that Tony had done a great job, and that made Tony stand a bit taller, beaming.

The hotel suite was nice, clearly a luxury one that they wanted occupied for some reason. There was a small sitting room, with a huge TV, comfortable couch and arm chair, as well as a bar fridge. The bed was a king-sized one, loaded in pillows and it just looked comfortable.

“Let's empty these,” Gibbs said, dropping the bags on the bed. He opened the first, eyeing the DVD player and selection of movies and shaking his head. When he pulled out the novels, Tony noticed he couldn't stop smiling. “You even got me the new Ken Follet,” he said, motioning to a thick hardback, the only one in the group of books. It had to be over five hundred pages, and was the kind of historical novel Tony knew Gibbs would sink his teeth into, the perfect way for Gibbs to lose himself on a snowy day.

“And puzzle magazines,” Tony pointed out, shrugging his overcoat off. “Like you said, we might be here for a few days.”

“We can hike to WalMart,” Gibbs pointed out. “But...thanks.”

That wasn't a word Gibbs said very much, and Tony basked in the glow.

Next, Gibbs opened the bags of food, grinning when he saw the Doritos and nodding when he eyed the beer. “They have room service here, but I'm sure they don't have Doritos and Dominion,” Gibbs pointed out.

He moved next to the first clothing bag, pulling out the red and black flannel. “This mine?” he asked and Tony nodded. Gibbs stared at it for a moment, nodding as well. Next, he removed the two long sleeved T shirts, eyeing them and nodding. The pajama pants and stretchy knit shirts came out last and he watched Tony.

“The blue is yours. Looks better with your...” Tony trailed off, blushing.

“Eyes?” Gibbs finished, a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice.

“Well, yeah,” Tony admitted with a shrug, watching as Gibbs dug into the other bag, unearthing the sweatshirts and underwear. He held up the novelty boxers with a smirk. “Put these on first.”

“But Gibbs...” Tony started. Gibbs shook his head, a full smirk on his face.

“Put. Them. On.” He dug into the next bag, pulling out a two-tone gray baseball shirt and one of the pairs of thick socks, and tossed them at Tony. “This too. You get any pants?”

“Jeans. Darker ones are mine. Longer legs. More stylish.” He'd gotten a pair of nicely faded jeans for Gibbs that he knew would frame the other man's body well. They weren't as nice as designer jeans—or even Sears brand—but beggars couldn't be choosers and they'd look just fine on Gibbs. Not as nice as the pajama pants, but...

Tony resisted the urge to waggle his eyebrows, stripping his wet clothes off and dressing under Gibbs' supervision. Only when Gibbs was satisfied that Tony was warm and dry, did he strip his own clothes off, retaining his underwear and polo and chinos, but changing his socks and unearthing a pair of comfortable looking boat shoes from his pack. It just figured that Gibbs would have boat shoes as his backup pair.

“You have something to wear on your feet?” Gibbs asked, motioning to Tony's stocking clad toes. Tony almost waggled them as well, but he held back. Gibbs' expression was concerned, worried, protective. There was no way Tony felt comfortable taking advantage of that or making light of it. Here with Gibbs he’d strip off his masks.

“Sneakers,” he admitted, opening his pack and pulling out the shoes. He settled on the bed, tying them, and motioned to his suit and wet shoes and socks. “I should hang those up and put them away.”

“Don't worry about it.” Gibbs' warm hand clamped down on Tony's shoulder and Tony tried to ignore the scratch of the boxer fabric on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Instead of Tony cleaning up, Gibbs bent, shaking out the pants and jacket and hanging them up, folding the shirt and tie and placing them in one of the drawers.

When he was done, he turned to Tony, who was watching him. “Food. Then ya can help me put all of this crap away.” From Gibbs' expression, Tony could tell that Gibbs didn't really think of it as crap at all.

Tony padded out of the room and downstairs slightly behind Gibbs. He was tired and aching and didn't feel like keeping up with Gibbs' long strides. And as a result, he fell back a few paces. Gibbs abruptly stopped and turned, his hand coming to a rest on Tony's forehead. “Ya okay?”

“I’m okay,” Tony assured. He glanced around to make sure nobody was nearby and then squeezed Gibbs’ hand gently. “I’m just still cold and moving a little slower.”

“Well, when we get upstairs, you’re getting under the covers.”

“But the TV…” The bigger one was in the sitting area, and not visible from the bed.

“You can read a damn book, or do a puzzle.” Gibbs growled, but Tony was aware that the annoyance never quite reached his eyes. Gibbs was worried about him, and that started a glow inside Tony that warmed him from the inside out.

As they passed the lobby, he looked out, seeing that the snow was much worse. “It’s bad out there, Gibbs,” he said quietly. “I’m glad we stayed.”

“Yeah,” Gibbs replied, moving so close that his hand brushed over Tony’s. It was the best they could do in public, and it was more than enough for Tony. He absorbed and loved every gesture Gibbs could do, especially the ones they dared to do in public.

They walked shoulder to shoulder toward the restaurant and slipped into a booth after the bartender nodded a greeting at them. A waitress came over to greet them with a small smile. “Are you the police officers?”

“We are,” Tony acknowledged when Gibbs only gave her a look, the kind of look that would usually make people wince and back down. Instead, she just smiled at them.

“Good. You get twenty percent off. Thanks for…what you do.” Her cheeks got a little pink then and she dropped the menus on the table. “We also have room service until ten pm, so if you want something delivered to your rooms later, just dial seven on your phone.”

“Thanks,” Tony replied, giving her a winning smile and stifling a cough that wanted to come out. Gibbs gave him a concerned look and Tony gulped down a couple of swallows of water, which the waitress had left on the table.

“No junk food, Tony. No burgers. Get something hearty.”

It was kind of sweet the way Gibbs was looking after him. Mindful of his lover’s worry, Tony ordered a thick-cut pork chop, a side salad, and some mixed veggies. It was a little healthier than he usually ate, but he was really hungry and Gibbs was right, having something non junk food oriented would be good. For now anyway. Gibbs ordered the same and sipped from his coffee, watching Tony carefully.

“I’m okay, Boss,” Tony told him in an undertone.

“Hope so,” Gibbs replied. It looked as if he wanted to say more, but he held off and they sat in companionable silence while the salads were delivered. Tony dug into his, realizing how hungry he was. And when he started eating, he noticed the way Gibbs’ shoulders relaxed, the tension seeming to bleed out of the other man. Gibbs was worried, deep down concerned for Tony’s health.

Tony decided he’d do whatever he could to ease Gibbs’ mind, and ate quickly and efficiently, the salad being replaced with a pork chop covered in apples. It was good, and he made appreciative sounds as he chewed and swallowed, noticing the way Gibbs became more at ease with every bite Tony took.

And if lying in bed without TV would help Gibbs keep on relaxing, Tony could do that. He might even read a book; there were a lot worse things he could be doing.

They finished their meal in companionable silence and Gibbs paid the bill, motioning for Tony to follow. “I want to stop at the gift shop,” Tony said as they crossed the lobby. He would get a book of his own liking and maybe some Life Savers to suck on, so that his throat wouldn’t get dry.

“Sounds good,” Gibbs agreed, following Tony in.

The gift shop was a fairly large one, featuring some Maryland-centric items, like an apron with a crab on it, and some Save the Bay items. Tony drifted off toward the book area, a couple of spinning racks that seemed to hold everything from thrillers to romance, and everything in between. He spun the rack idly, watching Gibbs in quiet conversation with the person at the counter. He motioned to something behind the counter, shaking his head, and then picked up his phone and exited the store. Tony started to follow, but Gibbs shook his head firmly.

“Okay,” Tony muttered with a shrug, grabbing two intriguing science fiction books. He made his way to the counter, picking up two packs of Butter Rum Life Savers and a couple of bottles of water, and paid for everything. Just as he started to make his way to the door, Gibbs strode back in, holding up two fingers to the woman at the counter. Tony watched as she pulled a couple of little packets down and bagged them for Gibbs, taking his ten-dollar bill and offering him change.

“What did you get?” Tony asked, curious, when they were in the elevator.

“Cold meds. Ducky suggested them in case your chest gets tight.” Tony knew Ducky had only suggested them because Gibbs had called, and that sent up a warm glow deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Awww, you care,” Tony teased. He was shocked when Gibbs’ eyes darkened.

“You’re damn right I do,” Gibbs told him seriously, a dangerous edge to his voice. “I’m not losing you, got it?”

“G-got it.”

As soon as they were back to the room, Gibbs took his knife and snipped the tags off the pajama pants and shirt. He handed the bundle of clothes to Tony, the serious expression still on his face. “In bed. No laptop on your chest, no TV. You lay flat. You can read one of my books or do a puzzle if you get bored.”

“I got my own,” Tony informed Gibbs, holding up his bag.

“Good. Now go take a hot shower and change. Get really steamy in there. It’ll loosen the crap in your chest.”

“There is no crap in my chest,” Tony insisted, but Gibbs wasn’t having any of it. Tony strode into the bathroom, the clothes and his shaving kit in hand, and turned the water as hot as it would go. He stripped slowly, enjoying the growing steam in the bathroom. It was making breathing easier now that he was in a warm, steamy environment, he couldn’t deny that.

Unable to stop himself, he opened the bathroom door. “Sure you don’t want to join me, Gibbs.”

“Tony!” There was a warning tone to Gibbs’ voice that made Tony wince.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, secretly pleased. He turned the hot water down to a more manageable temperature and stepped under the spray, soaping off and washing his hair, despite the fact that he’d showered only this morning. This shower was head and shoulders above his and he might as well enjoy it.

When he came out of the bathroom, showered and dressed in the pajama pants and long shirt, he did a brief doubletake. Gibbs had pulled the blankets back, had poured the water in a glass, had laid the books out and even unwrapped the Life Savers.  One sat right beside two pills.

“Take those,” Gibbs said, motioning to the pills. “And get to bed.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Tony joked, ducking out of the way of a headslap. “While I’m resting, what will you do?” Tony framed the word “resting” in air quotes, turning to look at Gibbs as he popped the pills and chased them down with a swallow of water.

“I’ll be right beside you,” Gibbs told Tony in a gentle voice. “Reading one of the books you got me.” His expression was soft and Tony found himself smiling and leaning in to brush a gentle kiss over Gibbs’ mouth.

“They all think you’re such a bastard,” he commented to Gibbs. “But I see how soft you can be when you want to be.”

“Our secret,” Gibbs replied with a grunt, his mouth flush against Tony’s. He tasted of coffee, and the apples that had been served with the pork chops.

Tony wanted to thank Gibbs for caring, for being so gentle and patient, but he knew that would embarrass Gibbs, so instead he showed the other man, his arms coming around Gibbs. Tony held him loosely. Gibbs grunted and pulled away after a moment, and Tony let him. Gibbs wasn’t going to get all huggy, and Tony didn’t want him that way. It was fine with Tony; he liked Gibbs just as he was.

“Bed,” Gibbs reminded, pointing to it. Even though it was only three in the afternoon, Tony was fine with curling up in bed. Yeah, he’d miss his TV and movies, but lying flat next to Gibbs did have some advantages, even if they were only reading books and not messing around.

Tony sighed dramatically and crawled beneath the covers, reaching for one of his books. He watched as Gibbs changed into more comfortable clothes and then snapped the lights on. He snagged his own book—the new Ken Follet hardback Tony’d picked up at WalMart—and settled on top of the covers.

Tony wiggled and adjusted himself, finally settling with his head on Gibbs’ shoulder, the book open in one hand. “I can see why some people swear by ebook readers,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Gibbs asked, glancing over. He looked at Tony from behind his reading glasses, his blue eyes confused.

“Machines. Electronics. Like…the Kindle.”

“Kindle?”

“It’s an electronic thing. Like…like a small computer that you use to read books.”

“How does it read books?” Gibbs asked, his brows moving downward. Tony had an image of Gibbs picturing a machine reading books out loud, and shook his head.

“They’re electronic books, like our archived reports went from paper to electronic. You get this machine, you buy it from Amazon or at big electronic stores and WalMart, Target, Staples. And then you can buy electronic copies of books and read them on the machine.”

“You want to do that?” Gibbs asked, and Tony shrugged a little. He was intrigued by the idea, though he wasn’t exactly a tech guy. Still, it sounded pretty easy, even for a guy like him. “Kindle,” Gibbs muttered, clearly concentrating.

“It’d make your Ken Follett much lighter,” Tony pointed out. “ The machine’s about four or five ounces.” He had no idea if he was correct or not, but it sounded right. He made vaguely paperback book sized dimensions with his hands.

Gibbs grunted, turning back to his book. Conversation over. Tony turned back to his own book, absorbing himself in space battles, interstellar pirates, and love between different types of aliens. He was warm, and comfortable and completely at ease with the lover beside him. Tony matched his breathing to Gibbs’, lulling him into a more and more relaxed state.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Tony opened his eyes, realizing he’d fallen asleep, the book lying open beside him. He’d only gotten about fifty pages in before conking out. Tony rubbed his eyes, looking up at a fully dressed Gibbs. His cheeks were reddened and he had a WalMart bag in hand, two steaming cups of Starbucks coffee on the night table beside him.

“How is the storm?” Tony asked, sitting up. Darkness had fallen; he’d been asleep for a couple of hours. “And don’t tell me you went out just for coffee.”

“Storm is bad,” Gibbs said, his expression turning serious. “Blizzard conditions out there. Another fourteen inches expected in the next twenty-four. There’s about sixteen out there now. We’re stuck here through tomorrow, probably partway into day after. Plows can’t keep up. 95 is closed north to the Maryland border and south past DC.” He paused, and then added. “May open a lane to emergency vehicles tomorrow if they can keep up with the wind gusts and drifting.”

“Why did you go to WalMart then? You have coffee here, you didn’t need it that badly, didya?” If he did, it would be hell in the next day and a half.

Gibbs shrugged, and Tony could swear his cheeks got even redder. “Wanted to check something out,” he explained, finally putting the bag on the bed and taking a deep sip from one of the cups. “That one’s yours.”

Tony sat up fully and took the cup, sipping experimentally and giving Gibbs a smile. It was the same drink he’d had earlier. Gibbs nudged the bag toward  Tony and it was only then that Tony realized that it was for him.

He pulled the bag closer, opening it, curious. He removed a simple brown box with a logo on it. There was also another box, this one displaying a black case on the front. Tony stared at the items in shock, looking up at Gibbs, not comprehending. “A Kindle? Gibbs…why?”

“We can share it,” Gibbs said in a rush. “You’re at my place most nights anyway.” He stopped himself there, shrugging again. “You seemed interested. Can’t just watch movies all the time.” He couldn’t; Gibbs had refused to bring a TV into the bedroom and laptops weren’t allowed either, and in the cold of winter, they hung out there when Gibbs wasn’t woodworking.

“I was. I am…” Tony had so much more to say, but he and Gibbs weren’t words guys. There was no way Tony could find the right way to express how touched he was by all of it—the way Gibbs had looked after him, the way Gibbs was so concerned, and now this gift.

“Thanks,” Tony finally said, his voice sounding small in the room.

Gibbs tipped Tony’s chin up, leaning in. “No thanks needed. Ever.” After giving Tony a gentle kiss, he tapped the box. “Want to get this open so we can check it out.”

“On it, Boss.”

A few hours later, Tony sat cross legged on the bed, watching as Gibbs stared at the Kindle screen, his expression completely engrossed. The stack of books had been replaced by another Kindle—they now had identical machines, courtesy of Gibbs. As Tony had been learning his machine, Gibbs had ducked out again, going to WalMart just before they closed due to the weather. He’d picked up their very last Kindle and they’d downloaded a dozen or so books each. Gibbs had been engrossed in the new Ken Follet for a couple of hours now, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing and small chuckles.

“You know?” Tony said, nudging Gibbs with his shoulder. “Nobody else I’d like to be snowbound with.”

Gibbs lifted his head, leaning in to kiss Tony, his mouth soft and gentle. “Me either,” he replied, pulling back and staring into Tony’s eyes. “Can I get back to my book now?” he added, unable to resist a gentle smile.

“Long as you’re right beside me, go for it,” Tony shot back, settling in. He was warm, comfortable, and he had Gibbs. Being snowbound wasn’t so bad at all.