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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Words:
790
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
4
Kudos:
49
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4
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1,849

His Superhero

Summary:

Tony’s still got the flu when Gibbs gets home from work.

Work Text:

Gibbs heard muted voices from upstairs and threw his jacket into the living room on his way up. He followed the sound into the bedroom, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest as he eyed the stack of DVDs on the sink. “Did you get any sleep at all today or did you watch all of those?”

Tony lay swirled in a nest of blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags stuffed into the bathtub. He was curled on his side, facing the sink where a small television with a built-in DVD player was set up. “I slept right through some of them.” Tony coughed, sounding so pitiful that Gibbs was at his side in a moment, settling on the edge of the tub.

A hand reached down and swooped over Tony’s head. “How’s the flu?”

“Bad,” he croaked.

Not missing a thing, Gibbs nodded toward the cup of soup on the floor. “You keep anything down?”

Tony shook his head. “Eating is overrated.” After another couple coughs and a few moments eyeing the toilet, he relaxed back into the blankets. “Can you get…”

“Yeah,” Gibbs got up and returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea for Tony and a coffee for himself. Tony had the remote in hand and turned down the volume to almost nothing. On screen, the movie went on anyway.

“How was work?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Fine. We wrapped up the case. It was the wife, just like you said.”

Tony didn’t look all that victorious. “For once it actually is the wife and I’m not there to tell everyone ‘I told you so.’ Figures.” He eyed the toilet again, glanced at his tea, then set the cup aside, barely touched. “Did have a revelation today, though, halfway through the Dark Knight.”

Gibbs pretended like he knew what that was. “A revelation?” He ran his hand over Tony’s head again, a feather-light touch against his hair, not wanting to stroke too hard. Tony had been so hypersensitive with fever the night before even the lightest touch had hurt. But it made Gibbs feel better to touch him.

Tony tilted his head into the touch, and Gibbs took the cue to pet a little heavier. “I finally figured you out.”

Gibbs looked at him, curious. “Oh?”

“Yep. You, Gibbs, are Batman.”

Even Gibbs knew that name. But Gibbs narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“Batman’s pretty quiet. When he wants someone to do something, he barely says a word and makes people follow him. And he’s quiet. He sneaks up on people. They turn around and he’s just there. He can read people well, too, knows what’s inside them, knows what moves they’re gonna make. He stops at nothing to take down the bad guys. And his secret lair, where he can’t be reached, is downstairs in his basement. But, most importantly, he’s just a man. He’s not an alien or mutant or anything. He’s just a man who wants to do what’s right. That’s you all over, Gibbs.”

Gibbs leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. “So what would Batman do if his lover had the flu?”

Tony thought this over for a minute as he coughed. “Not catch it, for one. Batman’s tough.” Gibbs smiled. He had that one down. “And for another… I guess he’d take his lover to bed, tuck him in, and hold him while he slept.”

“Yeah?” Gibbs stroked Tony’s warm forehead. “You got a movie or comic or something to back that up?”

Tony grinned. “You’re one step away from canon references, Gibbs. You’re learning. I’m so proud.” He swayed a little as he pulled himself up. Gibbs wrapped arms around him and hauled him out of the bathtub.

“Maybe you should stay put. You remember how bad you got last night?”

“You’ll take care of me.” He clung to Gibbs, who held him closer. “You’re my superhero.”

“You’re feverish.”

Tony just grinned and hung on tight, even when Gibbs tried to move away to pull the covers up. Gibbs ended up in bed, the big spoon against Tony’s weakened one. The case hadn’t been a hard one, but the pursuit had taken a bit out of him. Sitting up with Tony all night, going through cold washcloths, changing sweat-soaked sheets, rushing Tony to the bathroom, it was all taking its toll. Gibbs closed his eyes.

“And you’ve got a secret identity. To everyone else you’re Gibbs, the boss, a tough marine, an NCIS special agent. But to me… you’re Jethro. You’re this. You’re…” he trailed off, squirming a little, swallowing hard, wrapping an arm around his belly. “You’re gonna have to get me a trash can.”