Chapter 3
…and then I kiss him like the world is ending and say
"Where logic ends, faith begins."
~ Bird York
Through bleary eyes Tony can just about see, by the kitchen clock, that's it's late. They've been drinking for a couple of hours and somehow the dirty dishes were cleared off the table and the remains of the dinner have been put away, although Tony doesn't remember doing any of it himself.
They move to the couch in the living room, with Tony talking about a movie he rented recently about a gigolo who spoke six languages (including the international language of love.) After a while Gibbs cuts him off and starts to tell some war stories. Maybe it's to shut Tony up, because listening to someone going on and on about movies you haven't seen, and aren't likely to ever see, can be pretty boring. So Tony happily slouches on the lumpy old couch with Gibbs mere inches away, barely daring to breathe because they're so close, and listens intently as Gibbs tells him about some of the ops he was involved in back in the good old days.
Gibbs relates his stories in spare language, which Tony finds sexy as hell. He talks about some brutal fighting he was involved in down in Panama ("…there was heavy fire incoming. Took a round in my leg. Had to concentrate on the target, forget the voice in my head screaming to get the hell out of there…") and the action he saw during his tour as a Marine Corps sniper during Desert Storm. It's at that point that Gibbs falters and is silent for so long that Tony thinks he should call it a night and make his way back to his lonely room on the base.
But when Gibbs finishes off the bourbon in his glass he begins to tell Tony about his former boss, Special Agent Mike Franks. He soon has Tony laughing about the time he and Mike went undercover as gunrunners when a load of armaments was stolen from a naval base. While on the case he and Franks followed a suspect to border-town whorehouse. The madam there didn't understand Gibbs' Spanish and thought he was looking for a job. "Mike never lets me forget that she wanted to be my first customer," Gibbs says with a chuckle.
Gibbs runs a hand across his mouth and clams up all of a sudden, as if he's exceeded his quota of words. He starts to rise from the couch but loses his balance and falls back, landing half on top of Tony. The sudden weight hitting his stomach causes Tony to let out a grunt of surprise and he reaches out to steady Gibbs. The older man utters something unintelligible that might be an apology (though Tony doubts that because he knows that Gibbs doesn't apologize) but Gibbs doesn't make any attempt to move from where he's sprawled, with his ass on the couch and his upper body across Tony's chest. Gibbs has been drinking heavily, more than Tony has, but until now he hasn't shown any sign of being under the influence.
Tony doesn't mind, but he's afraid that once Gibbs realizes that he's lying on top of his half-drunk agent he'll be up and out of there like a shot. Gibbs' elbow is pressing against Tony's groin and his hand, which is very warm and strong, is gripping Tony's thigh. Tony doesn't move except to carefully wrap his arm around Gibbs' chest to balance him so he doesn't fall off. He lies there and breathes cautiously, inhaling Gibbs' scent. It's bourbon and smoke from the barbeque and something that smells like fresh wood shavings, though Tony can't figure out why his boss would smell like piney woods on a hot summer's day.
Surprisingly, Gibbs relaxes with a sigh, and lets his head rest on Tony's shoulder, and although his boss's temple is enticingly close to Tony's mouth, he doesn't take advantage of the situation. Gibbs' soft, silvery hair is tickling Tony's cheek and there's a strange feeling in Tony's belly that might have something to do with the large amount of bourbon he's imbibed. Of course he knows he's lying to himself about the odd feeling, which he shouldn't be doing. Tony's rule #1 is to never lie to himself â€" or to small animals.
No, Tony has to admit that feelings of desire and affection are growing within him, and he's aware that this is a moment that he should cherish for as long as it lasts â€" even if it's only for a few minutes â€" because it's extremely unlikely that it'll ever occur again.
Tony definitely does not want to lose their friendship by making a stupid, clumsy move. As soon as Gibbs realizes what's going on â€" the budding attraction that Tony has for him â€" it will all be over. They might get along and be able to read each other pretty well, and work in synch most of the time, but that doesn't mean that Gibbs will welcome his subordinate's advances. Not in a million years. Tony does not want to get fired from his job as a result of coming on to an uninterested Gibbs, because he really likes his work and he already feels at home at NCIS. Getting drunk and then making a move on your boss when you've only worked for him for a few scant weeks does not look good on anyone's resumé.
Tony doesn't relinquish his hold on Gibbs even though all it would take to extricate himself would be to shift his weight and slide out from under his heavy body. He could then stretch and yawn and say, 'Hey, Boss, the steak was great but let's call it a night,' and he'd saunter (or stagger) to the nearest exit and head back to his temporary lodgings to sleep it off. Maybe he'd dream about missed opportunities and about wonderful things that will never happen. He should get up. He should go, he really should.
In the end Tony stays where he is, reclining on the couch with Gibbs sort of cradled in the crook of his arm because, after all, this thing he's doing, holding Gibbs and simply being there for him, is really for Gibbs' sake. The visit from Stephanie really upset Gibbs, though he tried to hide it, and if the man needs a bit of comforting why should Tony not be the one to provide it? And if it's the only moment of intimacy that Tony ever gets to experience with Gibbs, then at least it's going to make a really nice memory.
Gibbs hasn't moved except to adjust his hips a little, to make himself more comfortable. He's leaning against his dinner guest as if he's an extra-large cushion; his back is pressed to Tony's chest where it feels solid and right. Although his hand is still resting on Tony's thigh, his elbow has moved, which is a disappointment. Gibbs must not be aware of what he's doing, or of the effect he's having on Tony.
Tony's about to fall asleep when Gibbs asks, out of the blue, "You know her from way back?"
Even though it's been on his mind, it doesn't mean that Tony wants to talk about it. Still, he finds himself explaining, "She was my high school piano teacher, and yeah, I really took the class to learn the piano, not to pick up my teacher, even though she was really hot…for an older woman." He slurs a bit on the 'she' but otherwise Tony doesn't think he sounds half as drunk as he really is. His tongue feels sort of thick and his head is heavy and he doesn't think he'll be able to get off the couch without a helping hand.
Gibbs asks, "How old?"
"I dunno. Seventeen maybe?"
After a long beat, Gibbs says testily, "Not you, DiNozzo. How old was she?" His speech is less compromised than Tony's, but it's obvious he's no longer sober.
"Oh. Twenny-four." Tony smiles a little and then, at Gibbs' prompting, he tells him how only a few months ago he ran into her again after almost fifteen years. It's easier to spill your guts when you don't have to look anyone in the eye. "Jazz club 'n Oldtown. She's playin' there, was the headliner. I…" Tony remembers that he'd gone to the club with Danny. It was amateur night and Tony had accepted Danny's dare to go up on stage to play the piano. "I played 'My Foolish Heart'." Tony is overwhelmed by the memories and, suddenly maudlin, he swallows the lump in his throat and tries to lighten up a bit. "I sorta show off 'round pretty women, Boss," Tony says, even though Gibbs already knows all about that. Tony grins all of a sudden. "I was pretty damned good tha' night. Gave a great performance on the piano, and in bed." He laughs and feels Gibbs' weight riding on his chest.
"Everyone's a star in their own bedroom," Gibbs says sarcastically.
"Well, I wasn't in my own bedroom, Gibbs. Women like to have sex in their own beds," Tony says knowledgably. "I swear I won't ever fall for anyone. Ever again. S'just too painful, ya know?" It's the bourbon that's loosened his tongue; he'd never be so free with his words otherwise. It's as if they're tumbling out of their own accord and he has to work hard to stem the flow.
The trouble is that as soon as he stops talking, Tony can't help but get caught up in the memories. He'd only gone out with Wendy a handful of times before he knew he was falling for her. She didn't mind that he was a homicide detective â€" she had relatives who were cops and understood the life â€" and she'd already met his partner Danny through the 9-11 foundation she worked for as a day job. Sometimes the three of them went out together for pizza after work, or Wendy dropped by the station to bring the partners home-baked food when they were caught up in a case and couldn't get away. She was bright and beautiful and fun and she was everything Tony thought he wanted. Their age difference meant nothing in the face of romance, and somewhere along the way Tony got caught up in the idea of being in love. He was, after all, an idealist.
Tony's inner voice warned him that the affair would not end well if he broke his own rule about not allowing his heart to lead him astray.
Where there is no love, there can be no pain.
In the end, Tony did not obey his own rule. Before he knew where he was, he had proposed, Wendy had accepted, and they'd moved into the townhouse they'd chosen together on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
"I thought…I thought that white picket fence dream had come true," Tony tells Gibbs. He suddenly feels very emotional and blinks hard. Not meaning to say it aloud, he whispers, "Everything was perfect."
*
It wasn't hard for Wendy to figure out that something was very wrong between Tony and Danny. Tony told her that he and Danny were no longer partners, but no more, and for some reason she assumed that Tony had caused the rift. Tony refused to discuss what had happened between him and Danny with his fiancée, believing it was best to spare her.
Within days of giving Wendy an engagement ring, and making promises to each other that involved love and devotion, Tony's dream of enjoying a happy married life was in ruins. His fiancée of a mere ten days threw his ring in his face along with accusations that he was unwilling and unable to refute: he was secretive, disloyal, selfish. Tony couldn’t tell her that she had described Danny to a tee.
There was no way that Tony could reveal to Wendy that their mutual best friend, his partner, was a dirty cop. It seemed too personal: Danny had done the unimaginable and had broken the sacred trust between partners, brothers-in-arms. Maybe it was due to a kind of twisted loyalty on Tony's part but even if Danny had screwed him over, Tony would not return the favor. He knew Danny wouldn't say anything, would never incriminate himself.
Tony couldn’t understand Danny's betrayal, when they'd been so close. And how could he have missed the signs? They'd watched each other's backs, spent countless hours shoulder-to-shoulder on stakeouts, had hung out after work and occasionally got drunk together. Hell, they had always been there for each other â€" for two whole years. Now it was all gone because of Danny's greed and utter lack of conscience, leaving Tony bewildered as to what had turned his upstanding, decent cop partner into a low-down, scum-sucking bastard.
*
"You didn't tell her 'bout Danny," Gibbs accuses. He shifts his weight to one side and his shoulders slip off Tony's chest. They're reclining right next to each other, shoulders crowded together, and Gibbs turns his head, which is resting on the cushions at the back of the couch, so he can look straight at Tony.
He's close, too close for comfort, really. Before, when they weren't able to look into each other's eyes, it was easier somehow. Between the amount of bourbon he's consumed and the proximity to his boss, Tony's finding it hard to keep his game-face on. Gibbs is frowning at him but Tony senses it's not in a bad way. More like he's concerned. Tony gives a watery laugh and pats Gibbs' knee, his hand made clumsy by the booze. "Hey, I'm supposed to be comforting you, Gibbs."
"Is that what this is all 'bout?" Gibbs asks with narrowed eyes.
Tony shrugs, a bit embarrassed at being caught out. "Thought you'd wanna talk if you had a drinkin' buddy."
Gibbs only makes a snorting sound, but Tony can tell he's pleased.
***end chapter 3***
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