As the elevator doors opened quietly on the main floor of the NCIS building, Special Agent Jethro Gibbs sighed softly and raised his tired, blue eyes, letting his attention drift momentarily from the sheaf of information in his grasp. He looked indifferently toward the parting metal panels, idly wondering who was within. There was but a very small handful of other agents and support personnel remaining in the building at this time of night, so he was mildly surprised to see the agency's medical examiner stepping slowly from the steel and cable compartment and heading in his general direction. It was a rare thing for the good doctor to be here this late. The agent's keen gaze immediately took in the light-weight coat draped casually over one of Donald Mallard's bent arms, the familiar brimmed hat held securely between the older man's surprisingly agile fingers, and realized his friend had finally completed his tasks, too, and was preparing to leave.
Frowning slightly and glancing swiftly toward the time display at the bottom corner of his computer monitor, Gibbs let the numbers absently register within his consciousness and then immediately disregarded them. It didn't matter to him how late it was nor did it concern him it was a Friday night and the start of a promised three-day weekend for his team. What *did* matter was making sure he got them each to intelligently record their individual reports on their recently-closed case before releasing them for some much-anticipated and justly rewarded time off. They were tired, to say the least, and he knew they were all looking forward to a bit of rest and relaxation but nothing was going to happen until they completed, to his satisfaction, their last assigned task: getting individual reports finalized and into his waiting hands.
"Heading home, Duck?" He asked the obvious as the man finally made it to the front of his organized desk, observant gaze just now noticing the presence of a full-sized umbrella hooked to the bend of one elbow. Gibbs' eyes quickly rose, slanting toward the large windows to his right, and dimly wondered how he'd missed the initial stages of the storm raging outside.
"Yes," Ducky responded absently as he proceeded to don the outer wear, a real measure of fatigue evident in his cultured voice, "I was just waiting to release Seaman Hernandez's body to the funeral home. Poor young man..."
"Everything all right?" Gibbs cocked an eyebrow in half interest/half concern but continued to stare out into the downpour beating steadily against the transparent panes, eyes focusing on the sheets of rain fiercely battering and trailing down the glass surface. Damn, it looked utterly miserable out there now.
"Oh my, yes," Ducky affirmed quickly, nimble fingers sliding buttons through carefully stitched holes, closing the coat securely, "no problems at all, though you know how it pains me to see someone so young die so unnecessarily." Ducky reached to recapture the hat and umbrella he'd temporarily placed on Gibbs' desk, frowning slightly as the agent continued his silent perusal of the weather. "The question should be is everything all right with *you*, Jethro?"
The gentle sound of his given name seemed to release Gibbs from his brief lapse and his eyes snapped quickly back to the openly concerned face of the ME. He shifted in his padded seat before answering.
"What? Oh," he questioned and then swiftly nodded in comprehension, looking back to the paper in his hand, "yeah, everything's fine."
Ducky arched an eyebrow and huffed softly in disbelief, glancing quickly around at the trio of assembled agents still bent over their individual work stations, sharp eyes swiftly ascertaining their general fitness. Tsking at what he saw, he leaned slightly toward his seated friend, and whispered in barely-concealed caution.
"Send them home, Jethro. They are tired and miserable and, quite frankly, on the edge of exhaustion...as are you."
"We're fine," Gibbs' head snapped up and his tone held a note of warning but before he could proceed any further with an explanation, a voice softly interrupted.
"All finished, Boss."
Timothy McGee was pushing away from his desk, index finger automatically hitting the 'send' button on his keypad before reaching to hook the coat from the back of his chair, swinging it casually over one shoulder. He switched off his adjustable lamp, rolled the chair under the desk well, and snagged the hard copy of his just-completed report from the printer tray. He took the needed few steps over to Gibbs' desk and expectantly placed the still-warm pages in the shallow basket to the left of the former Marine's work space, gaze rising to make cordial eye contact with the ME before focusing again on his superior.
"Should all be in order," he stated simply, shrugging into his jacket and adjusting the edge of the collar. "You need for me to do anything else before I head out?"
Silently, Gibbs reached for the report and took a few lingering seconds to glance over the young agent's competent work, flipping at last to check for McGee's required signature. He grunted once and looked up into the ridiculously youthful face.
"Looks good," he affirmed, almost grinning when he heard McGee's quiet sigh of relief but maintained his expected stoic expression. He shifted his eyes in the direction of the other two remaining agents and couldn't resist throwing a small but well-aimed dig their way. "Now, if those two bozos," his head tilted in their general direction, "could get their combined asses in gear, I may be out of here early enough to spend a few hours on my boat tonight."
"I'm typing as fast as I can, Gibbs!" Ziva David hissed in annoyance, her brown eyes flashing angrily beneath her equally dark brows, mouth set in an hard, frustrated line under her pert nose. She shook her head but kept on working. "I can give you what I have now but it will not be complete and it will be without your precious spell-check."
"Well, I don't want any crap, so keep at it," Gibbs barked in response and quickly refocused on the two men before his desk, eyes dancing devilishly toward Ducky before settling sternly on his patiently waiting agent. "You did good work during this case, McGee. Enjoy the next three days but don't forget to have your ass back here early Tuesday morning."
The younger man's face split with a grin but, before he could respond to the unexpected compliment or the semi-kind directive, Ducky was taking hold of one arm. "Ah, wonderful, Timothy! Now, you're just in time to escort me to my car."
McGee's eyes flashed to the scene outside and then spoke, his voice gentle with genuine concern. "You want me to drive you home instead? I mean, it's raining cats and dogs out there right now."
"Cats and dogs?" David asked, her eyes wide with obvious disbelief, glancing swiftly away from her monitor to peer outside again. "That's...that's not possible..."
"Well, cats maybe..." another voice mumbled and the dark-haired beauty looked across the small space dividing her desk from Gibbs' senior field agent.
"What?" She frowned, tone snapping and waspish as she examined her other colleague, an eyebrow angling up in annoyance. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Tony DiNozzo muttered softly without looking up, long fingers working steadily on his keyboard, and showing David nothing more than the top of his slightly-tousled head.
She turned quickly back to face Gibbs and just missed the thoughtful gaze he'd sent in DiNozzo's direction. She pinned the older man instead with her sour look.
"Cats and dogs?" She snarled unhappily. "Another one of those silly American expressions I'm always hearing, I suppose?"
Gibbs just grunted his reply, immediately tuning her out, and looked back up to McGee's expectant face. "That sounds like a good idea. It looks pretty rough out there."
"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home," Ducky huffed slightly, wanting to appear independent and competent but secretly pleased by the generous offer. It *did* appear absolutely wretched outside at this point.
"Never said you weren't," Gibbs soothed gruffly and hid his grin, recognizing his old friend's agreement was eminent, "but why drive in weather like this if you can be chauffered? I'll have Palmer swing by and pick you up Tuesday morning on his way in."
"Well," he began, already conceding, "if you insist..."
"Of course, Doctor Mallard," McGee assured with a smile, catching Gibbs' blue eyes and reading the silent approval in their depths, "it would be nice to have your company."
"Well, now that's settled," the former Marine groused in feigned annoyance, "get the hell out of here before I find something else for you to do."
"Yes, Boss."
Ducky quirked a genuine smile and donned his hat at a jaunty angle, touching the brim briefly. "Goodnight, Jethro."
Focusing immediately back on the report McGee had submitted, Gibbs heard the duo walk away, heard the muted sounds of the elevator doors opening and closing, and heard the constant tapping of fingers on keyboards. The muted patter of the wind-driven rain against the windows was a pale backdrop to the familiar, soothing sounds of the building itself and Gibbs easily tuned out everything but his regular surroundings: the hushed whir of the air conditioning unit delivering the mix of recycled oxygen, the soft buzz of a faulty overhead light fixture somewhere in the direction of the water fountain, and the faint rustle of notes being reviewed by the two remaining field agents as they continued to work. Everything was as it should be, except...
Frowning, Gibbs cocked his head and listened to the last sounds a bit more carefully, realizing instantly something was not quite right. There was a slight disturbance in the pattern, a flaw in the usual configuration, an absence in the normal scheme. Pushing his sense of hearing just a bit further by allowing his eyes to momentarily slide shut, Gibbs immediately became conscious of the problem: only *one* set of hands was involved in working.
Opening his eyes and turning his gaze sharply to the right, he peered through the dimness dividing his desk from his agents, focusing on the young Mossad officer first, and quickly seeing she was still battling her frustrations by pounding a bit too roughly on her keyboard. He knew the subtleties of the English language sometimes gave her pause but he was wise enough to recognize Ziva David used her perceived 'weakness' to disarm others and conceal her true grasp of what was being spoken. He wasn't sure if any of the rest of the team had caught on to her little ploy but was willing, for now, not to call her on it. At least, not yet.
He watched her for only a moment more before reaching his conclusion and, when he did, Gibbs frowned with confused concern. If David was still working, then that meant DiNozzo was not.
Shifting his gaze across the room, over to where DiNozzo sat, he caught sight of the young agent peering intently out into the relative darkness of the stormy night. As he suspected, there was no work being done at all. Instead, the strong hands hovered idly over his work space while the expressive face twisted with something akin to outright pained compassion. This was not good. Something outside had lured and captured DiNozzo attention and was, now, tugging at his emotions...but what?
Gibbs shifted a bit more and looked outwards, too, past David and her desk, wanting to observe what had caught and held DiNozzo's attention so completely but it was just too dark to see anything clearly...and the sporadic flashes of lightning did nothing to illuminate the area sufficiently. He sighed in frustration and gave up, turning his thoughts back to the problem at hand, knowing he had no other recourse but to reprimand the lapse in focus.
"DiNozzo!" He barked just loud enough to startle both unsuspecting agents, making them jump slightly in their seats. Two sets of eyes immediately swung his way but he concentrated solely on the green ones. He donned his best irritated facade and made sure his tone conveyed his ire. "Get your mind back where it belongs and finish your damn report!"
DiNozzo blinked in surprise and dropped his chin at the hard, sharp warning but cast one, final look back out into the downpour before doing as directed. His quiet response of, 'Yes, Boss', was almost lost as thunder suddenly boomed and slightly shook the building, making the trio pause and wonder about the possibility of an electrical outage. DiNozzo hunched his shoulders a bit more and tilted his head slightly to one side but immediately did as Gibbs ordered.
The room settled into a semblance of normalcy but it took another good ten minutes before the worst of the electrical storm finally passed over, taking away the dreaded flashes of lightning and the echoing roll of thunder but the wind and the rain persisted, beating wildly against the building and turning the world outside into a sodden mess of standing water and flooding low-lying areas. It would be hell traversing the city tonight, and possibly even tomorrow, but inside NCIS headquarters all was dry and safe.
When Gibbs suddenly pushed out of his chair and headed in the direction of the restrooms, David immediately turned her attention toward the man still sitting across from her. She waited only until she was sure Gibbs was gone before breaking the silence.
"What is wrong with you tonight?" She hissed sharply.
DiNozzo looked up and blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm working..."
She shook her head angrily and sighed. "Gibbs may not be able to see you clearly from his desk but *I* certainly can." She looked hastily outside, eyes searching the gloom. "What do you keep looking at? I can see you peeking..."
"I don't *peek*," he snorted softly, eyes dropping back to his work, determined to get his 'damn' report finished.
"You most definately have been! I've been watching you," David glanced quickly in the direction of the restrooms and then back. "Come on, Tony," she wheedled conspiratorially, offering a sly grin, "you can tell me."
DiNozzo hazarded another look and studied her carefully, silently taking in the insincere expression and the false smile. He huffed out a short laugh and shook his head.
"No," he said quietly and went back to work, "I don't think so."
"Oh, come on," she persisted, leaning her elbows on the surface of the desk. David could see he wasn't going to be swayed by her false flirtations and decided to just try a more direct route. "What can possibly be so important out there right now? Tell me."
"No."
DiNozzo didn't even bother to look up but merely readjusted his monitor, swiveling the screen until he didn't have to be facing her each time he checked information on the screen. Instead, the new angle put him in a direct line with the windows and he quickly settled back in his chair, determined to get finished.
"Tell me." She was like a vexing fly, buzzing tight circles around his head.
"No."
"Why not?"
DiNozzo growled low in frustration. "Because."
"Because why?"
"Because I don't want to tell you," he finally broke and hissed angrily at her, green eyes flashing in annoyance. "Just drop it. Okay?"
"Don't get angry," she continued to press, undisturbed by his ire. "There's no need to act like a child."
DiNozzo was seriously considering throwing something in her direction but, instead, wisely took a deep breath and sighed. "Ziva, just leave it alone."
"Leave what alone?" A voice asked from a few yards away.
Gibbs was back and his silent return had both agents jumping in startled reaction again. David pressed a fist against her chest and puffed out a shaky breath, while DiNozzo rubbed a nervous hand through his hair, eyes catching and then quickly sliding away from the older man.
"Why must you do that, Gibbs?" David exclaimed in a rush and mumbled a few extra words in Hebrew under her breath.
The older man ignored her aggravated, and possibly inflammatory, response and focused entirely on his senior field agent, immediately seeing the nervous, anxious expression. "Leave what alone, DiNozzo?"
Gibbs' voice held that tight, little note of persuasion, that tone of command, that small sound that made DiNozzo's hair stand on end each time it was heard. He fumbled awkwardly with his field notes for a few seconds before forcing himself to settle, his miserable, defeated eyes finally rising again to look squarely at his boss.
"Ah...Ziva was just asking me about something..."
"Something," David swiftly interrupted DiNozzo's quiet explanation as she pushed back from her desk and strode purposefully toward the wall of windows to her right, pointing obliquely out into the night, "out here. There's something out here he keeps staring at and I want to know what it is."
Gibbs continued to gaze at DiNozzo as the younger man shifted slightly in his seat. He studied the green eyes carefully, continually, until they finally broke free and drifted away, shifting to the small notebook resting beside the keypad on his desk. Gibbs watched as the slim fingers began to pick at the edges of the paper, the clean, smooth nails catching on the individual pages in an easy, relaxed, *deceitful* rhythm.
"Pack it up and go home, Ziva," Gibbs came to a quick decision, turning away from his examination, and moving back to his own desk.
"But I...I'm not finished," she sputtered at the unexpected request. "I still have to do my..."
"You have to do what I tell you to do," Gibbs stressed as he sat down and nailed her with a hard glare. "Nothing more...nothing less."
David was still for a moment, eyes sweeping from Gibbs to DiNozzo and back, wondering why she was being dismissed so abruptly, and angry again for having no other recourse but to do what she was told. DiNozzo never moved, his eyes remaining fixed on the notebook under his fingers, and she finally turned away, moving back to save what she'd composed and to shut the computer down. Snagging her duffle with one hand, Ziva David caught Gibbs' stare one final time before leaving, a silent, furious curse flashing in the depths of her dark, brown eyes.
And then she was gone.
The two men sat as they were for several long minutes, as the rain and wind continued outside, each refusing to speak or to move. It was a battle of wills, of sorts, but there was no doubt who'd ultimately be the winner of this contest and Gibbs soon made his initial move.
"Why are you so damn hardheaded?" He asked quietly, rising again and crossing to stand next to DiNozzo's desk. There was no mistaking the distinct note of tenderness in the inquiry and he waited patiently until the green eyes slowly lifted.
"I'm not hardheaded," DiNozzo groused softly, shaking his head in denial. "I'm just...just..."
"Hardheaded," Gibbs completed the thought with a small smirk, watching the younger man's cheeks flush. Gibbs hooked a hip on the corner of the desk and sighed, reaching out to tap the notebook still under DiNozzo's slim fingers. "So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you or are you going to give me the runaround, like you did Ziva?"
The biting response was immediate. "Ziva can go fuck herself."
"Tony," Gibbs chided at the soft, unexpectedly rude retort, watching as DiNozzo heaved a huge sigh and turned to look bleakly outside once again. This was confusing, to say the least, and Gibbs had to rack his memory, trying to recall what this kind of weather meant, if anything, to the younger man. Their relationship was too new, too awkward at times, and too full of missing moments to piece together any reasonable explanation for this kind of behavior, so Gibbs quickly threw in the towel. "Maybe it would be more simple if you just told me straight out what's bothering you because, I gotta say, I don't have a clue."
"You'll just laugh at me."
The muted statement was, to say the least, unexpected and, unfortunately, totally unwanted. If there was one thing Gibbs had decided he wanted at this stage of his life, it was no complicated involvements, and this was beginning to sound like something bordering right on that. Gibbs had honestly hoped this relationship with DiNozzo, as risky as it was, would be different from those of the past, free of confusing emotions and untethered by bothersome baggage but, now, he just wasn't so sure. He felt he was too old and too worn to go through all that emotional crap and just couldn't understand why relationships always seemed to end up wearing him down instead of invigorating him. Unfortunately, this was beginning to look like one of those times. Gibbs took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Look, if you don't want to tell me, fine," he responded briskly, not sure he'd be able to contain his disappointment.
DiNozzo swiftly turned and looked up into the stern face, his alert gaze filled with complete understanding. "Hey, don't go and get all pissy on me now. I didn't mean it that way."
They eyed each other warily for a few moments until DiNozzo, finally, pushed himself away from his seat and tilted his head toward the windows, gesturing silently for Gibbs to follow as he moved to the last section of glass, closest to the elevator. Without speaking further, DiNozzo squatted down and pointed toward the base of a bush growing just on the other side of the clear panel, turning his anguished eyes back to Gibbs.
"There," was all he said, the single word filled with a combination of hope and defeat.
Gibbs frowned, moved until he was directly positioned beside the younger man, and peered into the underbrush, searching the darkness for whatever DiNozzo seemed to see. It was too black to make out anything substantial and the reflected light from the lamps inside only made it downright impossible to focus on any exterior objects. He growled in frustration again.
"Damn it,Tony, I just don't..."
A small movement caught his attention and he had to squint hard to follow the slight undulation, frowning anew when he glimpsed the blurry image of...*something*...at the base of the shrub. It was alive, whatever it was, and extremely small, and Gibbs immediately got a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. He turned his head fractionally and saw DiNozzo peering intently out, nose just inches from the window, the same compassionate expression he's worn earlier marring his handsome face again.
"Tony..." Gibbs breathed the name like a warning.
"It's just a stupid cat, Gibbs," the younger man whispered softly, his words leaving a fog against the glass, "probably a kitten, from the size of it, and soaking wet. We just can't leave it out there."
The former Marine briefly closed his eyes, hating what he knew he had to say. "Tony, you know cats..."
"Don't," DiNozzo whipped his head to the side and fixed him with a hard stare. He hissed angrily at Gibbs. "Just don't, okay? I *know* cats don't like me, and I *know* I can't keep one in my apartment, and I certainly *know* how you feel about them but, damn it, we just can't leave it out there in this weather." The green eyes blazed with anger and he was suddenly rising to stand, moving toward the entryway leading to an outside door. "I'm going to get it."
Before Gibbs could reach out and snag a hold of DiNozzo's retreating form, the younger agent was gone, and Gibbs could only watch as he reappeared on the outside, all thoughts of his expensive clothing and fine, leather shoes gone. He stepped through the muddy puddles without notice, slipping a bit in the muck, and searched resolutely under the bushes, hair turning dark and laying flat on his skull as the rain pounded against his head and shoulders and back. Gibbs watched as DiNozzo wiped the water from his face and squatted down, knees in the dirt, looking hopefully toward the area he'd last seen the feline and was momentarily stymied when he couldn't locate the wayward cat. When the distraught, green eyes turned his way for assistance, Gibbs knew he had to help.
"Damn it, Tony," he fussed in frustration but hunkered back down, pointing a finger in the appropriate area and directing the younger man toward his goal.
Quicker than he thought possible, DiNozzo suddenly had the squirming bundle in one hand, trying to hold on as it fought to escape, and watched as he tucked it securely into the relative safety of one bent arm, keeping the other hand at the scruff of it's wet neck. Gibbs was rising and moving to the file cabinet behind DiNozzo's desk, locating the small pile of clean, dry towels the agent kept right next to the neat stack of fresh T-shirts. He had to grunt in bemused approval: if DiNozzo was anything, he was prepared.
The sound of soft cursing brought him swiftly around and, at first glance, Gibbs didn't know whether to laugh or yell at the sight. DiNozzo was wetter than he'd ever seen, while fully clothed, and the tight, miserable set to the mobile mouth was the only real indicator of his condition. He was dripping water everywhere, his big shoes leaving muddy, sodden prints on the carpet, and, unless he got out of those ruined clothes fairly soon, would probably end up leaving definate puddles wherever he stopped to stand.
"Locker room," Gibbs directed, throwing a towel over DiNozzo's soaked head, one over the bundle grasped tightly under the bend of the arm, and steered the drenched duo back toward the elevator. He pushed the correct button but kept a careful eye on DiNozzo as they rode in silence to the gym/locker room floor, seeing the small, sporadic bouts of trembling start before they could reach their destination.
"You okay?" he asked gruffly, hearing the quiet clacking of teeth begin as well.
"Y...yeah..." DiNozzo stammered from somewhere under the towel. "Ju...just...c-c-c-cold..."
"I swear to God, DiNozzo," Gibbs gritted as they left the elevator and pushed into the deserted locker room, moving in the direction of the showers, "if you get sick, I'll kick your ass. Twice."
There was laughter...and then a sneeze...and Gibbs growled again, stopping at the entry to one of the stalls. He reached past a flimsy, vinyl curtain, turned the knobs, and adjusted the water flow to a nice, respectable, warm temperature. Satisfied, he eased to one knee and worked DiNozzo's shoes and socks from his chilled feet, one at a time, before rising up to put his fingers on the cold metal of the belt buckle.
There was a pleased rumble of pleasure from under DiNozzo's towel and Gibbs shook his head at the erotic sound. "You've got to be kidding me," he huffed, secretly glad the younger man was still able to feel a bit frisky in his current situation but immediately got concerned when he heard a quick hiss of pain. "What? What is it?"
DiNozzo shook the towel from his head and gingerly arched to one side, trying to pull the covered cat away from his body, eyes and mouth slit in a clear grimace. "Damn little beast dug it's claws in. Shit!" He twisted again. "Take it, Gibbs! Ouch...shit!"
Carefully keeping the towel over the feline, Gibbs gently got a good hold on the critter and eased it away from the griping man, not wanting to cause further harm but wanting to remove it as quickly as possible. There was another hiss of pain, a succinctly enunciated curse, and the immediate muted noise of wet fabric swiftly being loosened and hastily discarded to the floor. Through it all, Gibbs gently massaged and dried the small bundle, letting soothing sounds echo deep in his throat and chest, and patiently waited until the futile struggles within the towel slowed and ultimately subsided. When he thought the cat had calmed enough to risk inspection, he moved to a nearby wooden bench to sit and slowly, carefully, peeled back the nubby cloth.
"Well, I'll be damn," Gibbs smiled as the small, perfectly proportioned face came into view, the clear, verdant eyes gleaming intelligently upward in a mix of confusion and fear. There was no doubt of the coloring...the short, dark fur, even in it's partially wet condition, was as black as the night outside, every last inch of it. Gibbs scratched under the damp chin and watched as the animal stretched it's neck in astounding pleasure, pushing into the warm hand and seeking more of the soothing contact. He chuckled and let the cat nestle in his lap, continuing his inspection as he stroked the fur with drier sections of the towel.
"Well?" He heard DiNozzo ask and glanced back toward the open shower stall, admiring the view as the young man continued to wash the chill from his now-unclothed body.
"Well, what?" Gibbs inquired with interest, avidly tracking the cascading rivulets of steamy water as they meandered over slopes and swells, around rises and bends, enjoying the subtle shift and flex of muscle under slick skin...and the quick, stimulating glimpses of that shadowed, hidden area that always drew his attention. Gibbs growled again but there was nothing soothing about this new sound and the almost-forgotten cat stirred in his lap.
"What do you think?" DiNozzo tried to clarify, oblivious to the inspection he was being given.
"About what?" Gibbs responded playfully and absently petted the damp animal, hearing a soft purr begin. He glanced down and scratched behind one ear, watching the feline tilt it's head to get him to rub in just the right spot. He smiled at it's clever manipulation.
"About what?" DiNozzo repeated with a hint of exasperation. "About the *cat*, Gibbs. What do you think?"
The former Marine grinned down into the slanted, emerald eyes and then glanced back to the nude man. "I think it's a cat, DiNozzo."
DiNozzo stopped at the answer and turned to look back over one slick shoulder, eyes finding and settling on the seated man. He took in Gibbs' smug expression and the contented-looking cat on his lap, and had to smirk at what he saw.
'Well, now...isn't this interesting?'
He twisted the knobs to stop the flow, shook his head like a dog flinging water from it's body, and wiped the remaining drips from his eyes with slightly wrinkled fingertips. When he finally dared to meet Gibbs gaze again, there was no mistaking the heat in the blue stare, and a hot spike of arousal flared instantly within his shower-warmed body.
DiNozzo crooked a wicked grin and turned to blatantly face Gibbs, leaning fully back against the heated tiles and raising his arms to rest just above his head, palms exposed and fingers bent in an open, relaxed curl. He tilted his hips slowly to one side and widened his stance...just a bit...and then brought one hand leisurely downward, skimming blunt fingernails across one flushed cheek, sliding along the side of his slick, pulsing neck, and dropping only as far as his chest, running a tight, circular course around and around one, small, aching nipple until it almost hurt. Almost.
Gibbs' eyes darkened as they followed the hand's path, watching avidly as the flat nail traversed over and around the delicate skin, knowing where all this was leading...and welcoming the journey without hesitation. He forced himself to look back into DiNozzo's eyes and recognized the sleepy, heavy-lidded look of arousal.
"What are you doing?" Gibbs whispered with a hint of mischief.
DiNozzo's eyes gleamed across the space, eerily resembling those of the purring, rescued cat. Gibbs could only stroke the soft fur and watch his lover, relunctant to break this strangely forming tableau.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Came the equally hushed response.
Gibbs growled again, a pleased, excited sound that had the feline in his lap suddenly purring louder, too. He chanced another quick look down and realized he was grasping the sleek, fine hairs with his fingers, carding almost roughly, but the creature seemed practically happy to be handled in that manner. Strange...
He focused back on DiNozzo, his gaze arriving just as the questing fingers began to travel south, tracing lightly past the ribs, over the smooth, taut belly, past the dip of the navel, descending lower...
Jesus.
"Tony," Gibbs couldn't contain the name and remotely felt the cat dig in it's front claws, piercing through the thin fabric of his trousers and barely breaking the flesh beneath. The warmth the creature was producing was amazing, it's simple, satisfied rumble vibrating slightly against his rising dick, and Gibbs felt himself absently stroke the cat from head to rump, over and over again, feeling the silky slide as the feline pushed it's tail up against the pressure each and every time. It like this attention...it wanted this attention...it was almost begging for this attention.
DiNozzo's fingers all but ignored his swelling cock, brushing past with just a slight flutter of touch, and were now involved in rolling and fondling the smooth, sensitive skin of his heavy balls, feeling and testing them individually, and then cupping them upward together, lifting and hissing at the pleasurable stab of sensation. He kept his eyes only on Gibbs, even as the lids drooped in delight or slitted in bliss, and continued to touch and enflame himself...and the man on the bench.
When a single, damp finger slipped lower and pushed gently up against that area just past his sac, DiNozzo moaned and had to let his eyes drift slowly closed, head falling back and mouth opening slightly as the intensity washed over his entire being. Gibbs could see the slim digit moving carefully over the delicate skin, could see the tension gathering in the young body, and knew what pressure on that one spot did for his lover, remembering the feel and the smell and the taste of that one, tiny bit of thin, nerve-packed flesh. God, it was there he wanted to be...right *now*...with his tongue pressing at that hot place, driving DiNozzo out of his mind, battering against any resistance, seeing the strong legs fall open, wide and inviting...and then licking lower and deeper and harder.
Gibbs groaned and pushed his firming dick against the bundle of heat in his lap, eyes locked on the carnal display, gaze flashing from the bliss-filled expression on DiNozzo's flushed face to the fingers stroking and massaging that mysterious, concealed location close to that sweet, tight ass. He felt his gut clench in anticipation and wanted nothing more than to get up and approach the younger man, to add his touch to the mix, to partake of the feast spread before him, but he was held fast to the bench, unable to shift his feet under himself to stand, almost as if the slight weight of the cat was just too heavy for him to bear. Dimly, Gibbs could hear and feel the continual purring vibrations, louder and stronger, building in intensity, shaking against his thighs and lower belly. He stroked the silky coat with one shaking hand, gripped the lip of the bench by his left leg with the other, and held on tightly.
When DiNozzo's other hand finally dropped from it's position over his head and swiftly plunged to grasp his fully-erect cock, his hiss of almost-pain made Gibbs jerk in relex and the cat dig in tighter. DiNozzo teased the bobbing head with gentle fingers for a few moments, then roughly twisted his grip around the sensitive glans, pulling a lone, ragged moan from deep within his heaving chest. The sound shot straight to Gibbs' balls and he felt them tighten in response. He watched, mesmerized, as DiNozzo continued to fondle himself, alternating a series of long, slow strokes with a succession of hard, rapid pulls. There was an aching intensity building, growing, threatening to swallow them up in its wake and it was arriving quickly.
They were both breathing heavily now, blood pounding through their veins, and heart rate well above the normal, relaxed pace. Gibbs realized this was one of *the* hottest things he'd ever seen before and knew he wouldn't be able to give this pure, sweet rush of excitement away now for anything. This is what he'd been missing before, craving in all those other attempts with partners, thirsting and striving and hungering for...instead of all the miserable, frustrating relationships that just made his head ache and his soul feel empty. *This* made him feel good and vibrant and alive again...so unbeivably, fucking alive!
"Gibbs..." DiNozzo's eyes were open again, barely, and the heated gaze found and held his lover's as strong, capable fingers gripped his weeping cock tighter. He grunted, choked once, and twisted slightly, pushing a knuckle of the opposite hand up against the area behind his balls, searching and finding what he wanted. "Ah...Gibbs..."
Gibbs licked his dry lips and nodded his assent. "Do it, Tony...do it for me."
There was brief flash of near pain on DiNozzo's face and then he began to jack himself with keen purpose, feet planted firmly on the wet tiles, and shoulders pressed back for support. His rhythm was smooth and natural but there was a wicked twist each time he reached the tip, his slightly calloused palm scraping over the glistening head, catching and smearing pre-come and slicking up the shaft on each and every down stroke. His respiration was accelerating, causing the breaths to come and go in short, rapid pants, drying his mouth and throat and causing him to swallow thickly against the suddenly arid conditions of the room. He felt flushed and swollen and hot all over and hazily wondered if his whole body just resembled one, thick, pulsating cock at the moment. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the allusion but just couldn't spare the energy he knew it would take, not right now. His complete being was focusing totally on the swiftly approaching event of orgasm.
Gibbs was frozen by the erotic scene, fingers unconsciously gripping the warm, solid body of the creature on his lap, eyes locked on DiNozzo's dick and hands. He ached to touch the beautiful body, to be the flame that ignited the gathering explosion but, instead, remained in rapt, fascinated stillness, humbled, somehow, by the sensual display...and aroused beyond belief.
'If you don't come just from watching this,' he thought muzzily, half in a daze, 'you're fucking dead already.'
DiNozzo's head dropped slightly forward, his chin tucking down, breath hissing between his clenched teeth. His shoulders began to tense and the strokes grew faster, loosing some fluidity, his fingers gripping and releasing...only to grip and release again and again. And again. His whole body began to tremble and he grunted repeatedly, eyes scrunched tightly as the sensations rose, beginning somewhere near his spine...or his toes...or his brain. Hell, *everywhere*.
Gibbs was panting now, too, breaking out in a fine sweat, feeling the hot, compact body of the cat moving against his dick...or was *he* moving the cat? Crap. Refusing to examine the twisted implications of that thought, he called out to the writhing young man in the shower stall.
"Do it, Tony," he gritted out hoarsely, feeling his dick throb and twitch in expectation, and the sharp, unexpected pain as the cat proceeded to drive it's needle-like claws in deeply, drawing blood, and pushing the man to a different level of excitement. Gibbs hissed at the flood of sensation and gasped, his balls pulling up tightly. "Now! Do it now! Tony...Tony...now...now...Tony!"
DiNozzo slammed his head back as his muscles began to seize and he shouted out loudly, feeling his cock erupt in several long, hard pulsing contractions. A series of hot, ropy strands shot to splatter somewhere on the floor but the rest oozed and dribbled thickly across the backs of his fingers, coating the flesh and dripping like gobs of syrup to the tiles below. His hand continued to stroke and tease, fighting the spasms and jerks of the single-minded event, pulling every last bit of pleasure from his rapidly overwhelmed body until it felt as if his stomach was getting ready to turn itself inside-out. He wanted it to go on, like he always did, until he just couldn't stand it anymore...or until he couldn't breath...whichever came first and he only stopped when he realized he was beginning to gray out, floating right on the verge of unconsciousness.
Shit.
Abruptly, DiNozzo forced his hands away from his over-sensitized flesh and let gravity do its thing, reminding himself to breath right before his ass made contact with the solid, wet tiles covering the floor. There was a slight buzzing noise in one of his ears and he knew he wasn't getting enough oxygen but, for some reason, he just didn't care. He felt too floaty and light and...
"Tony!" Gibbs strident voice was suddenly close and a rough hand was tapping repeatedly on his cheek, attempting to garner some positive response.
DiNozzo sucked in a quick, deep breath and let it slowly back out, slowly raising his chin and peering up into Gibbs' concerned face. He offered the stern face a small, crooked grin and breathed once more, wondering if he'd ever be able to move again.
"Well, shit...that was amazing!" He mumbled and then coughed, letting his head rest back against the wall.
Gibbs huffed in relief but continued to steady the younger man with a hand on his bare shoulder. "You always come like that when you jerk off?"
DiNozzo smirked again and let his eyelids dip seductively, realizing this had been a 'first' for them as lovers. "Guess you'll just have to stick around to see."
Gibbs grunted non-committally but couldn't contain the pleased grin that flitted across his face. "Come on...get that sweet ass off the floor."
DiNozzo chuckled and accepted a hand up, resting his fingers against Gibbs' forearms and squeezing slightly, batting his lashes like some debutante. "So, you think I have a sweet ass?"
"Don't be coy," Gibbs grumbled but leaned forward to cover DiNozzo's mouth with his own, slipping his tongue quickly into the hot, moist interior, and then just as quickly slipping out, biting once at the lush, lower lip before pulling away. When something under his shirt began to writhe, he looked down.
"Holy crap," DiNozzo muttered as he watched, too, "what the hell you got in there?"
"Well, what do you think, DiNozzo?" He scowled and carefully released a few buttons, allowing a small, black head to poke out. "I had to do something with her when you went down."
"Her?" DiNozzo smiled and reached tentatively toward the perfect, little face, ignoring Gibbs grumble. His smile widened when the cat allowed his hesitant contact. "You always put animals in your clothing?"
"This one I do," Gibbs met the surprised green gaze steadily, aware of the pleasure DiNozzo was receiving by being allowed to pet the cat. This didn't happen often, they both knew, and it was really nice to see him getting so much out of something so small. "Thought I might keep her."
The statement shocked the hell out of both of them but Gibbs realized he really didn't have any other option, especially when DiNozzo's smile broke into a full-fledged grin, even, white teeth gleaming brightly under the harsh overhead lights, his eyes dancing with happiness. He *knew* he'd made a good decision when the younger man pressed carefully forward and returned the last kiss, with an ardor bordering close to pornographic.
The little cat squirmed between the two men and meowed pitifully, forcing them both to ease back and look down. DiNozzo cocked a suspicious eyebrow at the purring lump.
"I'm not going to have to battle for your attention now, am I?" He asked Gibbs and watched as the former Marine scratched under the feline's chin, the cat's slanted, verdant eyes appraising the younger man with something that looked too much like possessive satisfaction.
Gibbs looked into DiNozzo's marginally irritaed eyes and held back his laugh. Oh, this could be *so* good. He shrugged with one shoulder and turned away, walking back toward the discarded towel on the bench before casting a hot look back over one shoulder.
"Depends," he husked and let his eyes dip down the still-naked body, resting a moment on the flaccid dick before rising again to the slightly-stunned eyes.
"On what?" DiNozzo breathed out raggedly, wetting his lips with a quick flick of his tongue.
"On how good *you* are at keeping my lap warm."
DiNozzo watched as Gibbs turned immediately away and waited only a moment before springing into action. Reaching to gather his discarded, soggy clothes into a tight bundle, he couldn't surpress the evil grin that worked its way loose, knowing some imaginary gauntlet had just been tossed down. He heard the entry to the locker room open and close and knew Gibbs would be waiting upstairs for his eventual return and, when he did...
"Look out, cat," he whispered as he rose, gazing ferally toward the doorway, green eyes narrowing at the challenge, "that lap belongs to me."
FIN
Story Notes:
A 'please, forgive me' and a birthday fic for BC, all in one place.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Stormy weather blows a new addition into someone's life.
Chapter End Notes:
A 'please, forgive me' and a birthday fic for BC, all in one place.