The Handyman's Dream
by Rose Malmaison

Chapter 1 - Out of Options

DiNozzos are not quitters. DiNozzos are not quitters. He kept telling himself that, repeating it like a mantra as if it would enable him to endure the inconvenience, the discomfort, the sheer frustration that his apartment had caused him over the past several days.

Tony DiNozzo does not give up just because a few things go wrong. No, he just becomes a whining wimp and turns up at Gibbs' doorstep at one in the morning on what had to be the motherfucking coldest night of the year. He stood there shivering despite his several layers of clothes, unsure if he should knock or just walk in. Gibbs must be asleep and sure wouldn't be happy to be woken only to find a stray on his doorstep. A grumpy, sleep-tousled Gibbs in his jammies would be a sight to behold, but even so Tony knew he was tempting fate by coming over uninvited.

It had been the week from hell. First his refrigerator broke. He didn't discover it for a couple of days so the smell of bad milk made the apartment reek. Then the faucet at the kitchen sink didn't provide any water at all and jiggling it not only did not get the water running but the tap broke off completely in his hand. Tony figured he'd get the fridge repaired or get a new one over the weekend. He could replace his own tap if he had to, but Abby had already said she'd help him on Saturday. She was much better at that kind of thing than he was, and besides, she was fun to be around no matter what they did together. His spirits needed lifting right now.

This morning the tepid water in the shower turned almost brown and smelled ugly. He'd grabbed a shower in the decontamination unit at work even though non-emergency use was forbidden. His toilet wasn't flushing properly, either. A plumber was definitely in order but Tony wasn't doing anything until he got the super to sign off on it because last time he got stuck paying out-of-pocket for repairs.

Just the day before the ancient lock on the front door jammed, with him inside, and he'd been forced to exit by the rusty old fire escape, which was not a good thing to do when dressed in designer clothes. Then this evening when he got home (which required breaking into his own apartment) the heat was off and the place was freezing. After a dozen attempts to reach the super Tony left one last message on the voicemail and decided he'd have to hunker down for what was sure to be a very cold night.

He tried to sleep by snuggling under all the blankets he owned but when he turned over, admittedly in a temper, the bed collapsed and he was dumped onto the ice-cold drafty floor. It looked as if one of the legs had snapped off, which was odd because the bed was of particularly sturdy construction. Repairing it would have to wait until morning. Tony then moved to his couch to grab a few winks but discovered the cushions were soaking and there was a suspicious damp spot on the ceiling.

That's when Tony DiNozzo gave up.

***

By one in the morning, out of options, Tony decided to take refuge at Gibbs' home.

He'd stayed there before, back when he'd first started working at NCIS. That summer Gibbs was out of town for three days and Tony was between apartments. It was a disaster because inviting one friend over to watch a foreign film somehow burgeoned into a wild keg party with a dozen rowdy frat brothers who were in town for the weekend. Gibbs had returned early to find Tony halfway drunk and wrestling with two athletic young men and a hose in a makeshift mud pit out in the back yard.

Gibbs had been seriously upset. Not that he said much, other than glaring and growling, but everyone got the idea really fast, especially Tony.

Never before had Tony felt so much like a teenager caught by his parents doing something illicit. Hell, he hadn't even felt like that when he had been a teen. He'd apologized to Gibbs several times, cleaned up the mess, repaired a broken coffee table and did everything he could think of to make up for the trouble he'd caused. He'd even done his best to charm his boss into forgiving him but nothing could make up for the look of disappointment he'd seen in Gibbs' eyes. That was four years ago and he still had twinges of guilt about the incident.

Eventually Gibbs let Tony sleep over again - under supervision - once because he was hurting from a break-up with a girlfriend and got too drunk to drive home. More recently was when Tony had a concussion and Gibbs had agreed to watch over him, but only in his own home. So Tony knew where the spare bedroom was and even if it wasn’t the same as sleeping in Gibbs' own bed, being across the hall from him was strangely comforting. Tony had lain awake in the narrow guestroom bed, aching for what he'd never have, smelling the plain washing detergent on the clean sheets, jerking off into a towel to the rhythm of Gibbs' snores and almost crying with loneliness.

*

Now Tony stood on Gibbs' front doorstep getting cold feet, in more ways than one. He almost headed back to his car and began ticking off his short list of places he might be able to bunk for the night. None of them was really a possibility, which he'd already known when he drove over in the first place. His teammates and small circle of friends were either cozied up with their significant others or didn't answer their phones, so he had already crossed them off his list.

A motel was out of the question. His wallet with its life-saving credit cards had been missing since that afternoon. Before they'd left work Gibbs had said he thought he'd seen it lying on the back seat of the sedan they'd used earlier that day. Only the car was locked up in the repair shop awaiting a brake job and he wouldn't have access to it until the morning.

Tony had briefly considered sleeping in his car but the freezing cold night air and a healthy dose of common sense to get the better of him. He knocked lightly on Gibbs' front door and then stepped inside the house. He sighed at the welcoming warmth that greeted him, and at the smell of coffee and wood and the lingering aroma of Gibbs' dinner of pasta and marinara sauce. It feel like coming home. God, how he loved Gibbs' place. It wasn’t just the smells, or the house itself, though he liked that it was roomy but still cozy, well built and sturdy like its owner. He loved it because of the man who occupied it, who made it his own by simply being there.

There was just enough light emanating from the small bulb over the kitchen stove for Tony to make his way to the couch without tripping over anything. Shivering from the cold, Tony removed his boots with numb hands, curled up on the couch still wearing his winter coat, muffler and all. He pulled the afghan throw that was draped over the back of the couch over him and went to sleep.

*

Tony started awake to find someone standing over him. He peered up and found it was Gibbs, his gray hair tousled, wearing a rumpled long-sleeved t-shirt and clingy knit pajama bottoms that left little to the imagination. Rubbing his eyes Tony said, "Uh…hi, Boss."

Gibbs frowned and said nothing.

Tony swallowed, feeling heat rising to his face. For the first time in hours he actually felt warm. He worked on a smile and hoped it appeared both endearing and sincere. "I didn't want to bother you, Boss."

"Get the hell off my couch, DiNozzo." Gibbs shook his head slightly and made his way to the kitchen without waiting to see Tony's reaction. He stopped in front of the coffee maker, squinting at the too-small numbers on the timer, and set it, grumbling under his breath.

Well, that didn't last long, thought Tony. He drew on his boots, rose to his feet, neatly folded the warm afghan and put it back where he'd found it. He walked quietly to the front door, feeling rejected and frankly quite hurt that Gibbs hadn't even asked him why he was there in his living room in the middle of a cold January night.

Tony shivered at the thought of sleeping in his apartment then decided he'd risk slipping into work. Looks like he'd catch some zees under his desk after all, so long as the security guards didn't roust him. They'd been enforcing the 'no sleeping on the job' policy too seriously of late. He could wash in the men's room or sneak into the decon shower in the morning. If he located his wallet he could use the gym down the street. Sighing heavily, Tony reached for the doorknob and braced himself for the cold blast of air.

"Where do you think you're going, DiNozzo?"

Tony jumped. Gibbs was right behind him. He hoped he hadn't audibly squeaked but from the amused look on Gibbs face he was afraid he'd embarrassed himself. "I'm heading over to a sleepover at this cute blonde's place," he said quickly, hoping his excuse didn't sound too false, or if it did that Gibbs would just let it slide. "I should've gone there first. Sorry, Boss."

Tony had opened the door barely an inch when Gibbs's reached past him and pushed it firmly closed. "You'll let the cold air in."

Gibbs was standing so close behind him that Tony could feel the heat coming off his body. Under all the layers of his clothing his dick reacted. Great timing. Tony knew he had a pained look on his face as he tried to suppress his hard-on. Standing there in the dark foyer, his head bowed a little, Tony tried to school his expression and hoped Gibbs couldn't see his features. "Cold air? Uh…I think that's what's gonna happen when I open the door to leave, Gibbs," Tony pointed out with a hint of sarcasm.

"You sure you want to leave?" Gibbs asked in a low voice.

Tony had been certain a minute ago that his boss was annoyed that his agent presumed he could just waltz in and sleep uninvited on his couch. But was now Tony was getting a whole different set of signals starting with the hot breath on his neck, right behind his ear where he was very sensitive. Gibbs was pressed up against his back and was not moving.

Tony asked, "You think I have a choice?" For once he didn't add 'boss' or Gibbs' name to the end of his reply. Nor did the expected head slap happen. Instead Gibbs' hand slowly stroked Tony's hair in one long sensuous caress, from the crown to his neck, where it stopped and took him in a gentle hold. Tony shivered at the touch.

"You having problems with your apartment again?"

Tony nodded, unable to speak. God, that hand felt so good. He silently begged Gibbs not to remove it. Its heat was seeping into him and then the fingers squeezed his neck muscles slightly, fondly, and Tony's knees grew weak and he shivered in reaction.

Gibbs said in a low, husky voice, "You're cold. There's a bed upstairs."

Then the hand was withdrawn and Gibbs stepped away. Tony took a few deep breaths and when he finally turned it was to see his boss heading upstairs. He wanted nothing more than to run after him but still he hesitated, uncertain of what the invitation entailed, afraid he was reading too much into it.

From the upstairs landing, Gibbs called, "C'mon, DiNozzo. I haven't got all night."

** end chapter 1 **

The Handyman's Dream
Chapter 2 - The Proposition

Tony stood in the upstairs hallway with feet clad on heavy wool socks, wearing overcoat, corduroy trousers and two layers of sweaters. He peered into Gibbs' bedroom. One bedside lamp was alight, casting a warm glow across the large bed. Sheets, blankets and an old quilt were in a jumble, a sign of Gibbs' hurried exit earlier when he'd heard Tony entering his house uninvited. Tony leaned forward but couldn’t catch a glimpse of the older man. He must have gone into the bathroom.

The door to the smaller bedroom opposite was open so Tony meandered in, flipping on the light switch. The single bed looked cold and uninviting and, indeed, the temperature of the room was much cooler than the rest of the house. Tony removed his overcoat, glad in a way that his dick was also reacting to the cold because the last thing he wanted was for Gibbs to find out how attracted he was to him. It was nothing new.

Tony sighed. It seemed that he was forever covering up his wayward dick, like a teenage McStiffie toting around a big notebook for a shield. The knapsack he carried to the crime scenes had come in handy three times in this week alone. The colder the weather became the hotter Gibbs seemed to get.

He dropped his shoes by the door next to a couple of cardboard boxes and Gibbs' large red metal toolbox. It appeared that the room was being used for storage space. Leaving the door to the hall open, Tony removed his overcoat and prepared for bed. He might have to keep his remaining clothes on if he couldn't set the heat a little higher. His nose was already freezing. What was Gibbs thinking of, keeping the guest room so damned cold? At this rate the pipes would freeze. There was a thermostat on the wall but it was set at 60 so that wasn't the problem. Tony inspected the radiator and saw the valve wasn't fully open, discovered it was too stiff to open by hand. He went to the toolbox, removed the top tray and rummaged around in the lower section where the bigger tools were kept. He found a wrench that he hoped would do the trick. Tony had just crouched down to adjust the valve when the door opened.

"What, are you now…my handyman?" Gibbs asked with displeasure dripping from his every word.

"Look, boss, I've been cold for hours and all I want is a little bit of warmth, all right? I'm not asking for too much, am I?" Shoot, that came out all wrong. "Is this radiator broken or something?" Tony looked from the radiator over to Gibbs and found the glare being leveled at him disconcerting, as always. But there was something else there. Speculation? Gibbs' eyes dropped and Tony was taken aback. Gibbs never backed down.

Gibbs stared at the open toolbox. "Yeah, the radiator's broken. You can't fix it so leave it alone, DiNozzo, before you make it worse."

Tony stood slowly, wrench in his hand, and tried to decipher what the hell was going on. "I've worked on the heating in my own place, you know. If I didn't I'd be an icicle by now," he said lightly. Gibbs' expression now revealed nothing other than a cool look that matched the weather. Tony lifted the top tray of the toolbox and replaced the wrench in the lower compartment alongside a hammer, various screwdrivers and other tools. Gibbs reached down at the same time to close the toolbox but between them they jostled it and the shallow top tray upended its contents on the wooden floor. Gibbs quickly scooped up washers and screws and various unidentifiable bits and pieces and dropped them back in the toolbox. The metal lid closed with a firm clank.

Tony glanced over at Gibbs' and was surprised to see his cheeks were flushed. If he hadn't known better he would have thought the man was nervous. Then the toolbox was latched and shoved back and out of the way with Gibbs saying, "Didn't know I was going to have a guest. In here," he ordered with a jerk of his thumb.

Tony shrugged and followed Gibbs across the hall and into the master bedroom. It took a moment for it to sink in that Gibbs was indicating he should get into the big bed. Tony gulped - he was being invited to sleep in Gibbs' bed. Gibbs got in first on the near side, pillows propped up behind his head, and watched with barely disguised interest as his visitor undressed. Feeling awkward under the scrutiny, Tony slowly removed his bulky hand-knit angora sweater to reveal another lightweight one in a green that matched his eyes, which he left on. He slipped his cords off but kept on his long silk underwear, aware that his boss was looking him over as if he was weighing him up. Still cold, Tony left his socks on.

"Light heavyweight," Tony quipped about his weight. "Not that I box much, as you know. I've thought of joining a fight club, though, to take out my frustrations in bare-knuckle street fights. Like Tyler Durden said, 'Fight Club was the beginning, now it's moved out of the basement, it's called Project Mayhem.' Considering all the crap that's gone wrong in my apartment, maybe that's what I'll name it. What do you think?"

"I think I you don't shut up and get into bed there's gonna be mayhem right here and now, Tony."

Tony clambered over Gibbs' legs and got under the covers. He pulled the quilt up to his chest and smiled. "Ahhh, you kept the bed warm for me. Thanks."

Gibbs snorted and turned off his bedside lamp. He'd left a nightlight on in the connecting bathroom so after a while, when his eyes had adjusted, Tony could see quite well.

Tony felt every bounce of the mattress as the man beside him shifted his weight and settled down to sleep facing away. Inhaling deeply, Tony smiled. The smell was all Gibbs, a warm, musky scent with an overlay of fresh pine wood shavings, a little sweat and a hint of his pasta dinner and some beer. After-dinner coffee, too.

Tony lay there indulging in a little fantasy that involved Gibbs wearing a big fuzzy sweater and nothing else until he was interrupted by the feeling that he was being watched. Cracking open one eye Tony was startled to find that Gibbs had rolled onto his back, and was looking intently at him. Tony wondered if he'd been making noises or something to disturb his boss. Not knowing what to say, Tony settled for a simple, "Night." He expected Gibbs to turn away but instead the older man shifted onto his hip and faced him.

Gibbs asked considerately, "You're warm now?"

"Mmm. Nice." Tony yawned.

"You were dreaming?"

His eyes opened wider at that. "I wasn't asleep."

"Day-dreaming, then."

As if he was going to tell Gibbs that he was prominently featured in all of his dreams lately. "It's cold tonight," Tony said, making a big show of pulling the covers higher over his shoulder.

"Going down to five below, they say."

With a shudder, Tony said, "Good time to wear big fuzzy sweaters. I'd like to see you in one." Shit, now what made him say that aloud?

Gibbs was quiet for a moment then he slipped out of bed and came back with Tony's discarded heavyweight angora sweater in his hand. "Like this one?" At Tony's nod, Gibbs sat on his side of the bed and stripped off his t-shirt, exposing a chest covered in gray hair. Tony caught a glimpse of dark nipples perking up in the cold air before Gibbs pulled the sweater over his head.

Tony closed his mouth and feasted his eyes on the view of his fantasy-in-the-making. God, the man was hot and he was wearing his fuzzy sweater! At that moment Tony vowed he would never get that sweater cleaned, not ever again. When he wore it, maybe to bed, it would be like wearing Gibbs. Something touched his foot under the covers and he realized it was Gibbs' bare foot, exploring.

Gibbs pulled the covers up to his waist, leaving plenty of sweater-clad chest visible. "You've got socks on?"

His feet had finally warmed up but Tony wondered where the hell this was leading. "I can take them off now."

"No…I like the feel of them." As if to prove his point Gibbs dragged his toes along Tony's instep and up his ankle, pulling a shiver out of him.

When Gibbs' foot stroked up the back of his calf Tony made a purring sound. "My sweater looks good on you, boss." Normally in this kind of situation he'd be about to have sex with the man he was playing footsie with in bed, but this was Gibbs, after all. What was this leading to, if anything?

The corner of Gibbs' mouth pulled up in a small smile and his eyes twinkled. "Is this what you were imagining earlier?"

Tony looked away and picked at the quilt. "Sort of."

"Sort of? Have I got it wrong?"

Gibbs was looking at him so intently that Tony could barely meet his eyes. After a moment Tony mumbled, "In my dream you were wearing only the sweater."

"Ah." Gibbs nodded, then sat up and fumbled around under the covers. The mattress bounced a bit and when he withdrew his hand he was holding his bunched-up pajama bottoms aloft. "Done." He tossed them onto the floor and sat there, all warm and fuzzy from waist up and naked below the covers. "Is that better?"

Tony's heart sped up. Oh my God. Gibbs was wearing his sex-kitten sweater like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tony knew his eyes were wide with shock and his mouth was hanging open but he couldn't figure out why this was happening. What on earth had made Gibbs become so accommodating? Was he truly being receptive or was this a trap of some sort? He couldn’t possibly be reading the signals wrong. Tony swallowed hard. "B…boss?"

"Gibbs. Or Jethro," he instructed with an inviting smile.

"Okaaay…Jethro," Tony said cautiously.

Gibbs leaned over Tony's reclining form, framing his body with his arms. The older man's smile faded and his brows drew together. He studied Tony intently. "Are you all flirt and no action, Tony? 'Cause if I got the wrong idea here, we can just go to sleep and forget about this. It'll end here and we'll never mention it again. Do you want this or not?"

"No…I mean yes! And no, I don't want to sleep." He had a close-up view of Gibbs mouth and without meaning to he licked his own lips in anticipation. Then a thought struck him. "Wait a minute, when did I flirt?"

Gibbs' head went back as he laughed loudly. "Oh, Tony, you're one big come-on. All day long. You flirt with every woman that walks by and half the men, too. You toss out smiles and play around with everyone but so far you've had a free ride. Nobody's taken you seriously, made you work for it, have they?" He grew serious and moved his mouth within an inch of Tony's. "Well now your time's up, Tony. It's payday and I'm here to collect." Gibbs' naked thigh pressed insistently against Tony's leg under the mound of sheets and blankets.

Tony slid his hand up Gibbs' arm, enjoying the feeling of the hard muscle and bone underneath the soft angora sweater. He met those all-too-blue eyes, taking in the offer, the promise of things to come. Tony's gaze slipped down to the man's mouth, his own lips opening slightly in invitation, and then he was crushed in an embrace from which he hoped he would never break free.

** end chapter 2**

The Handyman's Dream
Chapter 3 - The Bastard

Tony lay there, exhausted. To say he was sated was an understatement. He was not only impressed by Gibbs' stamina but was overwhelmed by his generosity and adventurous spirit. Tony snuggled closer to his lover, keeping his hands warm under the sweater Gibbs still wore, occasionally playing with his chest hair. He'd long since lost his clothing - sweater and silk underwear - including his socks, but he was wrapped in the arms of the man he'd secretly coveted for a long time now. That alone was enough to keep him warm. Tony sighed and was rewarded by Gibbs' hand stroking his back and then pulling him even closer.

There was a kiss on the top of his head. Tony raised his face in a blatant plea for a kiss to be placed on his lips and Gibbs complied without any fuss. Tony moaned into the kiss, wondering where Gibbs had learned his technique. From women or from men? Not that he cared, so long as in the future Gibbs didn't share his kisses with anyone else. Tony deepened the kiss in an attempt to possess the man he was afraid he was in love with.

Gibbs smiled into the kiss and then rolled on top of Tony, his mouth and hands exploring. He loved Tony's intense reaction to his touch. "God, why didn't we do this sooner?"

"I wanted you to," Tony whispered. "I did. I wanted you so badly but…"

"I thought you'd…wasn't sure you'd be interested in me," Gibbs confessed. "There's always been a line. Stepping over it might have made you hate me."

"Never." Tony smiled and let his hand slide down to fondle Jethro's balls and cock. "I've always been interested in you, Jethro, though maybe if you'd invited me up here a year ago I might not have been so…"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and teased, "So easy?" Pressure was exerted on his dick, hard enough to make him wince. "Hey!" He stroked and twisted Tony's cock in return.

"It must have been fate," murmured Tony. "Oh, do that again…Oh my God…Fate kept us apart. It made us wait until we were good and ready. And am I ever ready." He panted and his eyes half closed in reaction to the wonderful things Gibbs was doing to his dick, but he kept on talking. "If my apartment hadn't imploded…faucet…toilet…damned water…locks…bed…Everything except my car went wrong. You're the only right thing that's happened to me, Gibbs."

"I don't believe in fate, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly. "Enough talking. Let me take care of you."

Tony did as he was told and shut up then wriggled under Gibbs' weight, the friction causing both of their dicks to harden. After that he settled back to enjoy the way Gibbs took care of his every need.

***

A long, hot shower together, lots of coffee and a good breakfast made up for their lack of sleep. Tony insisted on wearing what he now called Gibbs' sex-kitten sweater to work, even though Gibbs frowned at the name. "Tony, we've got a long day to get through before we…" He made a motion with his hand that encompassed both of them and the upstairs bedroom. "Don't distract me at work," he ordered.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Tony lifted the sweater to his nose and inhaled. "My sweater smells of you now." Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs and kissed him slowly. "I can't wait for tonight. There will be a tonight, won't there?"

"Damn right there will be." Gibbs gave Tony a long, wet kiss in return. Eventually he sighed and released his hold on the younger man. "Gotta get back to the grind, Tony."

***

Gibbs had to make a phone call before they headed off to work so he sat in the kitchen draining another cup of coffee while he took care of business.

Tony was hanging around when he remembered he had to retrieve his overcoat from the unused guest bedroom. He picked up his coat from where he'd dropped it on the single, lonely bed. Tony left the bedroom, closing the door behind him, but after he shrugged into his coat he stood in the hallway for a minute. Something was bothering him and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The toolbox. The red toolbox that Gibbs had shoved out of the way last night. Slowly he went back into the bedroom and crouched down to open the lid of the metal box.

There was something about that shallow top tray that gave him pause. It was in a jumble since everything had spilled out the night before. All together were those washers and screws and bits and pieces that had been tossed back in. Looking at the small objects reminded him of a child's party game where kids were given a short amount of time to study unrelated items laid out on a tray. After the tray was taken away you'd write down every item you could remember. He'd been a whiz at that game, with his good observation skills. There was something about these unrelated items…

He closed his eyes: washers in rubber and plastic, brass and copper. Screws of various sizes. A handle of some sort like a lever, a small metal gizmo with tumblers and…Tony spread out the bits and pieces on the floor, like evidence from an ongoing case, and picked up the small tumbler mechanism. It was an old-fashioned lock. The kind he had in his apartment. He knew this because he'd taken his front door lock apart one day to see how it worked and had a terrible time getting it back in working order. He looked at it closely. There, in very small letters, was the brand name - DNZ. He remembered it well because the initials were close to his surname. This wasn't just any lock, this was his lock. In Gibbs' toolbox.

What was Gibbs doing with the lock from Tony's apartment? The washers looked about the right size to have come from a shower head, and the smaller ones from a faucet. There was a part that looked suspiciously like a toilet component. Who knew what these other parts belonged to? Maybe the heating system? The fridge?

None of it proved anything, but when Tony stood up the little suspicion grew and grew until it burst and Tony knew, just knew that all of his apartment woes, all the breakdowns and inconveniences and being left homeless on the coldest night of the year was Gibbs' doing. No, no…he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t.

And why didn't Abby answer her phone earlier yesterday evening? And Tim - he would never ignore a call from Tony in case it was about the job. But everyone had either not picked up or made excuses.

His wallet, Tony realized angrily …that, too. He was sure it had been in his pocket when they'd returned from the case yesterday yet Gibbs had convinced him it was locked up in the car being repaired. Was that another ploy he'd engineered in order to…to what? Was all of this was done to force Tony in a certain direction, to get him to come to Gibbs' house, and into Gibbs' waiting arms?

How could Gibbs do that to him? It was invasive, manipulative, dishonest…Tony clenched his jaw and tried to control his growing anger. His face was hot, his heart racing and he was so pissed that if Gibbs had walked into the room at that moment Tony wouldn't have been able to control himself. He'd knock his lights out, strangle him, punch him…

As quickly as Tony's anger had grown it departed and in its place was left an odd feeling. To think that Gibbs had gone to all that trouble just because he wanted to have him in his bed, to sleep with him. It was enough to make a man feel wanted, all warm and fuzzy inside. Tony shook his head. What an idiot Gibbs was! He could have made it known a lot earlier he was interested in a horizontal tango. Just a hint would have done, an after-work drink, a touch and an honest look into his eyes. Why, he could have just asked…simply invited Tony home with him and taken it from there. Or asked him out on a date, to a movie and dinner with wine and maybe a little dancing.

No, that wasn't Gibbs's style at all. Maybe he was scared to be upfront about it. Concerned about Tony's reaction. His big, brave Marine gunny sergeant must have been afraid of rejection! Tony laughed to himself at the picture of Gibbs sneaking around his apartment, sabotaging the plumbing with a screwdriver and wrench. Such a simple man yet such a complicated plan of attack.

Gibbs interrupted Tony's thoughts by shouting up the stairs that he was done with his phone call. "Gotta go to the head then we should leave."

There was no way that Gibbs was going to get away with this. Tony grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox and hurried down the stairs. "I'm on my way. I think my car's behind yours." Grinning, he took a moment to pull Gibbs' cell phone out of his overcoat to remove the battery. Tony replaced the phone in Gibbs' coat, slipped on his boots and ran out into the sunny, chill morning. Gibbs' car was parked in the driveway; he quickly lifted the hood. It only took him five seconds to find the wire he needed, and another five to loosen it. Tony slowly and carefully lowered the hood, cringing at the solid thunk it made when it settled into place.

He was in his car, backing it out onto the street when Gibbs sauntered out of his house. The older man waved at Tony with a big smile.

Tony smiled right back, and muttered, "Bastard." Sunglasses on and music tuned in, the heat cranked up, and he was ready to go. He waited for Gibbs to back his car out and head off down the road before following him at a much slower speed. Gibbs' car drew away from Tony at the next stoplight and it was soon out of sight.

A couple of miles along Tony saw Gibbs' sedan pulled over at the side of the road, so he stopped next to it and lowered his passenger window a few inches. He pulled his sunglasses down his nose and looked over them. "Something wrong, sailor?"

Gibbs, with cell phone in hand, looked seriously pissed. "Car sputtered and stopped. Damn phone isn't working, either. Give me a hand, Tony."

Tony pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. Draping his right arm along the back of the car seat, he made a show of thinking about it. Gibbs meanwhile was looking fit to be tied. "You know something, Jethro," Tony said casually. "I think you're just gonna have to figure this one out on your own, seeing as you're so handy."

"What? Get the hell out here, DiNozzo."

"Mmm, nope. See, I think what we're dealin' with here is a failure to communicate. You really need to learn to be more direct, Jethro." He hardened his voice and ordered, "I want to see you at my place right after work. You are going to put back every single screw and washer and whatever the hell you removed from my apartment. You will fix my bed and my lock and the shower and fridge and damn-well everything. When and only when I'm totally satisfied that everything is exactly as it should be, will I even consider letting you in my bed. And if you're very good about asking I will even let you fuck me this time. Is that clear, Mr. Handyman?"

Looking furious and a more than a little guilty, Gibbs braced his hands on Tony's car door, his face an inch from the glass of the window. "You cannot do this, Tony." He tried the door handle but it was locked and Tony only grinned at the man's frustration.

"You know something, boss? I'm so gonna love having my own personal handyman. See you at work!" With that he took off, laughing at the bemused look on his boss's face and enjoying the warm feeling he had thinking about the fun he was going to have that night…and on many more nights. Oh yes, they made a great couple.

***end***

Note: The plot bunny was along the lines of - What if Gibbs engineered something to go wrong at Tony's apartment in order to force him to stay over at Gibbs' home?