Work Text:
The first year that Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs is called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, his men are dying of curiosity; there are soft words exchanged on phone calls home, and the Marine writes and receives letters and care packages often, but never once speaks of the woman at home.
When he arrives at Dullas with nearly two dozen of his men in tow, they follow him curiously from a distance, hoping to get a peak of his mystery woman. Gibbs is an imposing figure after all, and strangely enigmatic, and the boys are dying to know what type of woman he keeps. They know in a former life he was a thrice divorced NCIS Agent, but that's nearly six months ago and he barely talks about it. To them, he's just their instructor.
They're a little surprised but disappointed when there is no woman--just man in an expensive suit with soft, short brown hair, laugh lines around his green eyes, and a year-old boy in his arms that looks vaguely familiar. Gibbs marches straight up to him, stopping just short, and nods. The man smiles.
"Boss."
"Dinozzo."
And nothing more is said. The three turn, and silently exit the airport, kid and suitcase in tow.
The second year that Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs is called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, he looks a little more worn than last time, and is a little more impatient. Soft words are still exchanged over phones, along with gruff queries about "the kiddo." The care packages still arrive, and if one or two of his students see him pull a photo out of his pocket every once and a while, they never mention it. He certainly doesn't pass it around like most deployed Marines do.
When he arrives at Dullas with nearly two dozen of his men in two, they're once again curious and there's a bit of rubbernecking to see who's waiting for Gibbs. It's the same man as before, however, a little more gray at the temples, a little more tired looking, but still laughing around the eyes. He holds a kid who's about two, with bushy eyebrows that the young enlisted men just can't put a finger on. Gibbs marches straight up to the pair, stopping just short, and nods. The man smiles and nods back, and the little boy holds a hand out, which Gibbs takes briefly, shaking.
"Boss."
"Dinozzo."
And nothing more is said. The three turn, and silently exit the airport, kid and suitcase in tow.
The third year that Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs is called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, he's wounded--not badly, but enough to keep him in the medic tent for a few days, growling at the nurses. During this time, he take a lot of phone calls from a person that sounds nearly frantic on the other end, and soft words are once again exchanged, as well as gruff reassurances. He tries, too, to sooth the caller, as well as the distressed young boy the doctors can just barely make out on the other end of the line, and his men wonder if he's not due for retirement soon.
When he arrives at Dullas with nearly two dozen of his men in tow, the ones on their second and third tour know the drill and usher the younger Marines along the line to their own families. The same man waits as did before, happy to see his boss, but visibly restraining himself as well, and the child looks excited to see Gibbs, spreading two tiny arms from where the other man holds him. Gibbs scoops the boy up and he immediately lays his head down on the older man's shoulder. Without a word exchanged, they turn and hurry out of the airport. If Gibb's men think it strange that the only one waiting for their Sergeant year after year at the airport is his ex-employee, well, they don't mention it.
The fourth year that Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Gibbs is called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, two things of import happen: one, Don't Ask, Don't Tell is repealed, and two, Gibbs mentions to a few of his men that he'll be retiring soon. The older Marine is tired of shipping out year after year and his reserves are just about depleted. He misses being an NCIS Agent.
When he arrives at Dullas with nearly two dozen of his men in tow, he runs-not-walks over to the man that's waiting always like a faithful Saint Bernard, holding hands with a child who looks unmistakeably like Gibbs, but this time man and child are grinning and squirming visibly like two excited puppies. Gibbs drops his bags, and throws his arms around the man with an "Oh, baby," seizing him in a tight, full body embrace. He pulls back long enough to kiss his husband long and deep, before scooping his son up to toss him in the air as the five year old giggle hysterically.
"Daddy!" he squeals, as Gibbs catches him, grinning from ear to ear, and several of his men wonder how they could have missed the resemblance before.
Gibbs and the man clasp hands.
"Welcome back, honey."
"Thanks, love. It's good to be home."
And with that, the three turn, and smiling, exit the airport.