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Gibbs watches the boy, Anthony DiNozzo from Baltimore PD. His grin is carefree and too wide and there's a weariness in his eyes that runs contrary to his whole behaviour.
“So, about that job offer,” DiNozzo commences. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. When he looks at Gibbs again, all traces of the frat boy persona are gone from his expression.
“I've had this come around bite my ass often enough before, so I figure I'll be upfront about it and if you can't take it, I'll just find another job.”
He pauses and Gibbs gives him a court nod while his mind runs through the possibilities of what is going to come. I'm the president's son, pops up in his head, as well as I'm really a girl and I'm gay.
DiNozzo holds his gaze and calmly says “I'm telepathic.”
Great, Gibbs thinks, I have to work on reading people. I was so sure he was sane.
DiNozzo grins at him, bright and sharp. “The only thing you need to work on is more flexibility concerning your world view, but if you don't want to give me the job, that's fine. “
The idea is so far-fetched, Gibbs feels disbelief pair with anger and opens his mouth to brush DiNozzo off, tell him he can forget about the job offer.
“Don't panic,” DiNozzo's voice is almost gentle and then Gibbs feels another presence in his head and it's unlike anything he's ever felt, he wants to recoil and push it out, it's helplessness and violation and companionship and Gibbs' mouth is too try and he can only stare at DiNozzo.
I normally don't do this, but, hell, I sort of want that job, you know? he hears DiNozzo's voice, but DiNozzo's lips don't move. The pressure in his head leaves.
“Fuck,” Gibbs utters.
DiNozzo smiles.
On DiNozzo's first day at NCIS, they get a case. A marine is found dead in the backyard of his house, the local police is holding three suspects until they'll arrive.
Gibbs tells Ducky to take the van with the equipment, gestures for DiNozzo to come with him. He wants to get acquainted with DiNozzo on the way.
DiNozzo settles in the passenger's seat of Gibbs' car and for a moment, Gibbs wishes Stan hadn't left the team and he wasn't alone with a guy who'd been in his head.
“If I make you uncomfortable, you should have said so,” DiNozzo offers quietly and without the grin Gibbs has already come to associate with him.
Gibbs presses down on the gas. DiNozzo grabs the side of the door, holds on to it, but he doesn't say anything.
“How does it work?” Gibbs breaks the silence once they're on the highway. The crime scene is about an hour away from the headquarters.
DiNozzo hesitates for a moment and, glancing sideways, Gibbs catches him shrugging. “Most of the time, I block everyone. I don't actually go around reading everyone's thought all the time, you know?” DiNozzo pauses. “I think that'd drive me crazy,” he adds more quietly.
Gibbs remembers the sense of violation he felt when Tony was suddenly there, in his head.
DiNozzo chuckles, but he doesn't sound happy. “I have a slight empathic talent, too. I can feel the distrust rolling off you in waves and I can't block that out. My shields aren't that strong, I'll always sense on some level what the people around me are feeling.”
Gibbs tries to absorb all that. His knuckles are white on the wheel and he's glad the road is mostly empty.
“Will it affect you on the job?” he finally asks.
“I wouldn't have survived as long if it did,” Tony says simply and that settles it. The rest of the way, they drive in silence and at the crime scene, DiNozzo reacts well, follows Gibbs' lead. They interview the witnesses and DiNozzo easily slips into the role of the good cop to Gibbs' bad one.
Gibbs figures the wife is their main suspect. It's subtle enough, but she seems more relieved than sad that her husband is dead and her gaze softens every time she mentions Jeffrey Murray, one of the other suspects.
“She didn't do it,” DiNozzo tells him afterwards, his voice certain and confident. “She was busy sucking face with Murray upstairs while the victim showed Peter Gallison his new car, but Gallison didn't do it, either. He really went to get that glass of water he was talking about.”
Gibbs grits his teeth and doesn't reply.
It takes them two days, but in the end, they find out that one of the neighbours did it and Gibbs thinks that having a telepathist on his team might not be the worst thing in the world. He doesn't say it out loud. Tony's grin is a little wider that day, some of the shadows behind his eyes gone.
“How's the new kid working out?” Director Morrow asks.
Gibbs folds his hands and leans back. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. “He's settling. We work together well enough.”
“Your team is supposed to be four people, not two. I should just assign someone to your team.”
Gibbs glares at him. “Let me worry about my team, Director.”
Morrow studies Gibbs intently. “As long as you keep the results up with DiNozzo, I won't mess with that. Just don't get killed. Either of you.”
“We won't.” There's nothing but confidence in Gibbs' voice.
The suspect stands in the alley when Gibbs and DiNozzo round the corner, their weapons drawn. His stance is relaxed and he smirks at Gibbs.
“You have the right to-” Gibbs commences and then gasps when bright pain bursts behind his eyelids. He feels a sensation of invasion, agony and violation much stronger than when DiNozzo was in his head. Distantly, he realises he dropped his weapon and is now kneeling on the ground, holding his head and rocking back and forth. He can't seem to do anything about it.
Everything appears hazy and distant compared to presence in his head. Gibbs can see DiNozzo snarl and fire, hears the gunshots as though they're muffled. DiNozzo surges forward, grabs the man before he can hit the ground and punches his until his eyes roll back and he loses consciousness.
The world seems too bright all of the sudden, the noise too loud. It's blinding, disorienting. Gibbs swallows slowly, blinks. It doesn't help.
DiNozzo drops down to his knees in front of Gibbs, takes Gibbs' hands and drags them away from his temples, replaces them with his own.
Gibbs hears him speak but he can't make out the words. DiNozzo's hands are soft against his face, the touch gentle. A soothing wave of rightness, support and DiNozzo surges through him and slowly, his perception of the outside world reaches normal levels again.
When DiNozzo draws back, the presence of his mind around Gibbs gone, Gibbs shivers. He feels oddly bereft.
They stare at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. “Son of a,” Gibbs growls, but he swallows down the words when he realises DiNozzo is pale and trembling.
“What are you doing?” he asks instead.
DiNozzo closes his eyes. His forehead is furrowed in concentration. “I'm trying to contain his telepathy,” he utters. “Permanently.”
“You can do that?” The words slip out before Gibbs can think about them. DiNozzo throws him a quick glare, focuses on the suspect again.
The man gasps, arches off the ground and falls back. DiNozzo grins at Gibbs, says “'Course I can do it” and slumps forward.
Gibbs catches him when he collapses, looks down at DiNozzo's still form and wonders when telepathy became a normal component of his life.
DiNozzo sits on the stairs, legs drawn up. Gibbs knows DiNozzo is watching him and the sensation isn't unpleasant. He rubs a finger over the smooth wood of the boat he's building.
“You did good, you know?” DiNozzo says quietly.
Gibbs grunts. His brain feels the way his muscles feel after a good, long workout, the good kind of sore and relaxed. His thoughts are slow, lazy. He just spent two hours with DiNozzo, trying to shield his thoughts and his head.
For a while, the only sound in the room is the low noise from the TV. Gibbs looks up when he hears the rustling of clothing and DiNozzo's soft footsteps behind him.
“Gibbs.” DiNozzo's voice is calm, but he hesitates before stepping closer. Gibbs turns around to face DiNozzo and starts when DiNozzo moves in and presses warm lips against his.
The kiss only lasts a moment. DiNozzo draws back and Gibbs can't quite make out his expression. “What the hell are you doing?” he growls. His lips tingle.
“I can't believe it's harder for you to accept that you're attracted to me than it is to accept that I'm telepathic. A relationship is not supposed to be weirder than something like that, you do realise that, right?”
Gibbs glares at him. DiNozzo inclines his head, gives a minute shrug. “Think about it, Gibbs. I know you want it.” His stance and comportment stay serious for another instant, before a boyish grin lights up his whole face. “Besides, the sex would be really hot!”
DiNozzo holds Gibbs' gaze a bit longer before turning around and making to leave. “Just, think about it, okay?” he asks, sounding lost now.
Gibbs reaches out, grabs DiNozzo's wrist and holds it. “I don't do one-night stands,” he says, surprising himself. The moment he speaks, he realises he means it. DiNozzo was right.
“Okay,” DiNozzo smiles at him.
Gibbs curls one hand into the hair on the nape of DiNozzo's neck, uses it to draw him in. At first it's just the dry touch of lips, but then DiNozzo – Tony – opens his mouth, tilts his head just so and there's a warm sensation around Gibbs' mind, no pressure and no invasion but a simple sense of presence.
Gibbs closes his eyes and holds Tony close.
It took Kate a while to figure out that there was more to Anthony DiNozzo than just his frat-boy persona. She always analyses the behaviour of her co-workers, of the people around her. She thinks it's normal, the profiling training she's had just ensures that she's better at it than most people.
DiNozzo plays the part too well and it isn't until three weeks into her work at NCIS that she realises there are too many inconsistencies for her to accept his image.
“He's too good at anticipating,” she tells a friend over coffee. DiNozzo puzzles her.
Lisa raises one eyebrow and sets her cup down. “You're not falling in love with a playboy, are you?”
Kate shakes her head. “No, I'm not. But that's it, I'm not sure he's really that much of a playboy. For all the stupid comments he makes and the superficiality, he really isn't. I don't get it.” She frowns and thinks about DiNozzo for a moment. “He always knows exactly what to say. He projects this image of an over-grown frat-boy, but he's never careless or thoughtless of hurtful. He makes people smile and he works almost as much as Gibbs.”
“You sure you don't have the hots for him? You're spending an awful lot of time thinking about him.”
“I just don't understand him, that's all.” Kate leans back, sips her coffee and tries to figure out Anthony DiNozzo.
They're over at Tony's place. They've finished with the case files that are still spread over the coffee table in front of Tony's couch, next to an empty pizza box and Gibbs' coffee.
Tony''s sprawled on the couch, one leg under his body and a bottle of beer cradled in his hands. He's picking at the label of the bottle, rubbing his thumb over the corner of it. Gibbs has his arm over the back of the couch. The TV volume is set low and neither of them is concentrating on the game they're watching.
“You know,” Tony says and grins at Gibbs, eyes bright and open, “this is dangerously close to cuddling right there.” He tips his head back, his hair brushing over Gibbs' arm.
Gibbs rolls his eyes, moves his fingers so they rest at the base of Tony's neck. “Happy now?” he grunts.
They sit together in silence. Tony has closed his eyes and Gibbs is absently playing with Tony's hair, brushing through it with minute movements.
“Why don't you abuse it?” Gibbs asks, his voice pitched low.
Tony blinks, sits up straighter. “Abuse what? The telepathy?” Gibbs nods, watches quietly as Tony falls back into the couch, his head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat.
When Tony starts to talk, his voice sounds completely detached and Gibbs sees the shadows and the shields return to Tony's eyes. He hadn't realised they were gone.
“My mother died when I was five. My father re-married two years later. They went to dinner parties and sent me to piano lessons. My stepmother dressed me up in sailor suits. My father drank too much and didn't talk. He left me in a hotel room for two days, once. My telepathy started developing when I was eleven and the day after my twelfth birthday, I broke into my father's head. Felt good to have him hold me, tell me he loved me, that I was a good son.”
Tony closes his eyes. Gibbs helplessly stares at his lips and brushes a finger over Tony's neck, up and down.
“Didn't feel so good later when I realised it had all been a lie. I forced him to do these things. I spent the night throwing up and in the morning, he sent me away and disowned me. I haven't talked to him since.”
Gibbs nods and they sit on the couch, staring at the television blindly, the only connection between them Gibbs' hand on Tony's neck.
When they go to bed, Gibbs buries himself deep in Tony's body, skin sliding over skin. They don't exchange any words, but they don't look away for a single moment. Tony's eyes are too bright and his moans are ragged. When Tony comes, he squeezes his eyes shut, but he's completely open, lust and hurt and pain, every sentiment written in the lines of his body, there for Gibbs to see.
Gibbs feels his own orgasm like an afterthought, the physical pleasure of it paling against the intensity of emotions. He draws Tony against him and they sleep.
“Tony, down,” Gibbs yells, but he knows it's too late already. He sees Tony spun around by the impact of the bullet and collapse to the ground.
Cuffing the man who shot Tony and leading him to the van instead of checking on Tony takes effort, Gibbs bites on the inside of his cheek and the suspect flinches back under the force of his glare.
Kate is already by Tony's side, applying pressure on the wound and by the time Gibbs crouches down next to Tony, Tony's eyes are fluttering open and he makes a gurgled sound that sounds vaguely like “ouch”.
“Call 911,” Gibbs tells Kate. Her eyes flicker to Tony's face, Gibbs snarls “now”, and she rises, takes out her mobile phone.
“I don't think it hit any vital organs, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says, holding DiNozzo's gaze as it threatens to turn glassy and unfocused, “You're such an attention seeker.”
Tony grins at him, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Bastard,” he slurs and his fingers brush over Gibbs' leg.
The paramedics arrive and instantly busy themselves with Tony's well-being. While Tony remained conscious the entire time Gibbs was by his side, he definitely isn't coherent and the drugs that the paramedics feed into his system through the IV don't help any.
Gibbs orders Kate to wait for the LEOs that will take the suspect off their hands and ignores her protest, “He's my partner!”. Gibbs sets his jaw and keeps himself from growling that he's found Tony first and that Tony belongs to him in more ways than she can imagine. He glares at her and gets into the ambulance.
The closer they come to the hospital, the more agitated Tony becomes on the stretch. He twitches and flinches, whimpers once. The paramedics exchange worried looks.
“Hospital,” Tony croaks, “Boss, are they taking me to the hospital?”
“Yep. Get that bullet out of you, stitch you up.”
“Oh God,” Tony shakes his head. One of the paramedics steps closers, says “Sir, you need to stop moving, you're aggravating the injury,” but Gibbs waves him off, leans over Tony.
“What is it?”
“They can't take me to the hospital, I can't go there. 's too much, boss. I can't shield it all off with the drugs in my system. I can't, boss, I,” Tony's voice is frantic, panicked.
Fuck, Gibbs thinks, mind discarding options faster than he can come up with them. There's a sheen of sweat over Tony's face and he's too pale.
“You need the hospital, Tony. Can you concentrate on me? Until they administer the anaesthesia, at least? Can that work?” He curses himself for not thinking about this happening before, for not asking.
“Not your fault, boss,” Tony utters and his fingers search Gibbs'.
Gibbs takes Tony's hand, grasps it tightly. “Just focus on me, DiNozzo,” he says gruffly, “Only me. Okay?”
The paramedics look at him weirdly, but Tony nods and calms down, so Gibbs doesn't care.
Abby is laughing at something Tony's said when Gibbs walks into the lab. Tony's perched against her desk and wears a broad grin that makes Gibbs want to kiss him senseless, to see it replaced with swollen lips and messy hair.
“Christ, boss,” Tony utters as Gibbs comes to stand next to him. The mischief in his eyes has been replaced by lust and he licks his lips. “You can't go sneaking up on people like that.”
Gibbs remembers that Tony can hear what he's thinking, grins and thinks “I want you” in Tony's direction. His smirk widens when he sees Tony's eyes darken in response.
“You're going to give me a heart attack,” Tony moans.
“You don't get to conk out, not at work, understood, DiNozzo?” Gibbs growls, but he knows Tony can see the corners of his mouth curl up.
“Didn't know you cared, boss,” Tony throws back. His eyes say he knows exactly how much Gibbs cares and briefly, Gibbs wonders if it should scare him how much Tony means to him – and that Tony is aware of it. He feels a soft nudge of Tony against his mind and smiles instead.
Remembering what he came for, Gibbs turns to Abby. “What've you got for me?”
She launches into a monologue about the trajectory angle and in the middle of it, Kate comes rushing in and tells them that the LEOs found the man they were looking for.
Later, when the man has confessed and Gibbs sits at his desk, he allows himself to watch his team write the reports and he smiles. “Good work,” he tells them and leans back in his chair, sips his coffee.
He's got a good team, he thinks, and he'll take Tony home later. Life isn't relaxing or calm, but Gibbs wouldn't have it any other way.
Tony looks up from his computer screen and catches his eyes and Gibbs doesn't have to be telepathic to know that Tony is calling him a big sap in his head.
He scrunches up a paper in his hands and throws it at Tony. “Concentrate on the job, DiNozzo,” he barks and grins when Tony ducks his head.
“On it, boss.”