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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The First Time

The first time was in Richmond.

Ducky wasn’t really meant to be there. He had finished his work on the case within the first day but found excuses to stay. He knew what Gibbs was like when the case involved a missing child, but he doubted that Tony did. While the young agent had impressed Ducky since joining the agency a year ago, this was his first missing child case as an NCIS agent, and Ducky feared that he might not know how to cope with “Uber Gibbs”. So, Ducky stayed, as a safety valve for Gibbs and a human shield for Tony.

As it turned out, Ducky was able to make himself useful by working through phone records and reported sightings, taking some of the tedious paperwork off Tony’s hands. And he had a chance to observe. What he saw confirmed his initial impressions – Tony had been an excellent choice. Ducky had never seen any other agent handle Gibbs’ intense focus, his lack of communication, his demanding perfectionism, as well as Tony did. Nothing seemed to throw him off – he took everything Gibbs dished out and bounced back as keen, sharp and eager to please at the end of each day as at the beginning.

And they got the result they had hoped for – Nicholas Sawyer aged 5, was found alive, if hungry and frightened, and reunited with his overwhelmed, desperate, grateful parents. It was late, and Gibbs decided it was too late and they were too tired to drive back to DC, so they retreated to the small bed and breakfast hotel which they had booked, but which they had hardly entered since arriving 4 days before. Ducky hadn’t expected to stay and had been touched when Tony generously offered to give up his room for him, instead sharing with the Team Leader in his twin-bedded room for the few hours of sleep that they had had over the past week.

Ducky was well and truly ready for bed by the time he stumbled into his room. A cursory clean of his teeth and wash of his face and then he was beneath the covers. But to his annoyance he found that he was in that state of over-tiredness that kept sleep at bay, and he tossed and turned for a good half hour before his mind began to slow and his body to slide into slumber.

Of course, it was then that his phone rang.

Fumbling for his glasses, he groaned when he saw the caller ID.

“What is it, Tony?” he asked wearily.

There was a pause before DiNozzo spoke.

“Umm, Ducky, sorry to bother you. But….” he paused. “Look, I think I need you to come in here.” Tony’s voice was strained and hesitant.

“Can it wait till tomorrow?”

But then Ducky heard Tony give what could be best described as a squeak. When he spoke again, his voice was rapid and slightly higher pitched that usual. “No, it can’t Duck. Can you please get in here? There’s something wrong with Gibbs.”

At that, Ducky was out of bed in an instant, not even bothering to pull on a robe over his pyjamas. The other men’s room was next door, and Ducky was relieved to find the door was not locked. As soon as he stepped into the room, however, he stopped dead.

Tony and Gibbs were on a sofa behind a low coffee table on which sat the remains of a takeaway meal and two beers. But it was the positions of the two men that made him stop short. Tony was sitting upright on the sofa with rigid posture and wide eyes, and Gibbs was draped over him, with one arm and one leg across the younger man and his face buried in his neck.

“Oh!” Ducky said shortly.

Tony glared at him incredulously. “Is that all you can say, Ducky?” he hissed. “It’s not….. I don’t know what he’s doing. I can’t make him stop!”

“Well, he’s obviously….” Ducky started. “Sorry, what do you mean you can’t make him stop?”

“I told him to stop, and he won’t. I think he’s drugged or something. He won’t listen to me. Do something!” Tony begged.

Ducky considered for a moment. “Jethro,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm, “Jethro, get off Tony.”

“Don’t wanna,” came the muffled reply.

Tony looked desperately at Ducky, his expression clearly saying “See!”

“Jethro,” Ducky began again.

“He’s nice,” came Gibbs’ drowsy reply from somewhere near Tony’s throat. “He smells so good”. The arm slung across Tony’s chest moved. Tony’s eyes widened and he flinched.

“No Boss, stop! That’s…. that’s definitely red-light behaviour!” Tony squirmed, trying to dislodge the hand that was sliding up inside his shirt.

“Is he drunk?” Ducky asked incredulously.

“Can’t be,” Tony shot back, eyes desperate. “He’s had maybe half a beer with dinner. Other than that, all he has had all day is huge quantities of coffee.”

The truth hit Ducky like a slap. “Oh my god!” he blurted out, moving rapidly across the room to the open suitcase on the luggage stand. He rummaged frantically for a moment before pulling out a small black case.

“Jethro has diabetes,” Ducky explained, moving quickly back across the room. “I think he’s having a hypoglycaemic episode. The caffeine had been masking the symptoms, but it’s hit him hard now.”

Tony looked incredulous. “And that’s why he’s being….?”

“Well, it can have an effect like intoxication,” Ducky explained apologetically.

Tony squirmed slightly on the couch, trying to move his neck away from Gibbs’ face, but Gibbs simply tightened his grip and blew gently onto Tony’s skin.

“Ducky, please…” Tony’s tone was strained, and he was looking more and more desperate.

“I need to take blood to test his sugar levels,” Ducky explained. “Then I’ll know whether I can treat him here or whether he needs to go to hospital. I need one of his fingers.”

“All his fingers are busy right now, Duck,” Tony retorted tightly.

Ducky suppressed an entirely inappropriate smile at the strained look on the younger man’s face. “See if you can bring one hand around to the front,” he suggested.

Tony moved again, leaning into Gibbs this time. With his far hand he reached down and slid his fingers between Gibbs’, gently drawing both their hands slightly away from his body, murmuring soothingly to Gibbs as he did so. Ducky speedily lanced the tip of one finger and Gibbs jerked, glaring at him through one bleary blue eye. “Ouch,” he whined. “Don’t”.

“S’okay Boss,” Tony said quietly. “I got ya.” Gibbs sighed and snuggled back against his side.

Ducky glanced back at them and felt a smile tug at his lips again, but then the reading on the monitor caught his eye and he sighed. “It’s bad,” he commented, “but not emergency room bad. I’m going to start treatment here and I’ll test him again in half an hour. If he hasn’t responded by then, we’ll have to get him to hospital.”

He took a syringe and a small vial from the kit, drew up some liquid and turned back to the men on the sofa. Bending, he lifted Gibbs’ shirt slightly, pressed the injection into his hip and stepped back.

Tony looked up at him. “So, do I just sit here until he….?”

Ducky considered a moment. He smiled a little apologetically. “Actually, I think it would be better if you could get him into bed.”

Gibbs gave a muffled chuckle and did something that Ducky couldn’t see, but that made Tony squirm and emit a slight squeak.

Ducky snorted and Tony glared at him. “It’s not funny,” he hissed.

“It is a bit,” the doctor countered smiling, but then seeing the look on Tony’s face he quickly corrected himself. “No, you’re right, of course not.” He moved closer. “Here, let me help you.” Ducky reached down and tried to move Gibbs’ arm, but the Team Leader just tightened his grip once more.

“Go ’way, Ducky,” he murmured sleepily. “I got Tony”.

Tony began to inch his way to the edge of the couch. “C’mon Boss,” he said soothingly. “Let’s go and lie down. You’ll be more comfortable. I’ll be with you. One, two, three,” he encouraged, and they rose as one from the sofa.

But as they stood, Gibbs’ legs folded underneath him. Tony quickly wrapped a firm arm around his back, supporting the other man against his side. Ducky moved to Gibbs’ other side but was again shrugged off. The two agents shuffled to the bed, where Tony lowered Gibbs down, and sat beside him. Gibbs gave a heavy sigh as he sank down into the bed, but he kept one hand firmly closed around the hem of Tony’s t-shirt.

Tony glanced back at Ducky. “So, do we just wait now?” he asked quietly.

Ducky nodded. “He should respond quite quickly, if he is going to respond. So, we should be able to free you soon,” he said with a smile. Tony looked up and met his eyes.

“We need to talk about this, Ducky,” he said quietly. “What the actual…..?”

Ducky shushed him as Gibbs stirred restlessly on the bed. After a moment, he settled again and gave a soft snore. In another minute or so, the hand holding Tony’s shirt finally opened and slipped down onto the bed.

Tony exhaled, slumped in relief, and slowly stood. Taking his arm, Ducky led him away from the bed.

“So,” Tony began. But Ducky held up both hands and shook his head.

“I know what you’re going to ask, Tony,” he began “but I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I’ve seen Jethro have a hypo a few times before, but he generally just became a bit confused and drowsy. I’ve never seen him …..”

“Turn into a human blanket?” Tony queried dryly.

“More than that, I think,” Ducky noted. “He was a decidedly affectionate blanket. To you, at least.”

Tony huffed a sigh and ran a tired hand across face. Stepping away, he slumped down onto the sofa and Ducky took a seat in the adjacent armchair.

“You should have seen him before I called you,” Tony said, shaking his head. “One minute we’re eating mu shu pork and drinking beer, and the next he’s sitting there, smiling at me. Just smiling. Like I’d done something amazing. It was freaky.” Tony frowned. “Then he said my name, as if he had just noticed who I was, and he hugged me. The next thing I know he put his leg across my lap and sort of collapsed onto me. Thank god I had my phone right near me.”

Ducky paused, watching Tony closely as he spoke. “That is certainly an unusual reaction,” the doctor commented slowly. “I don’t intend to pry Tony but are you and Jethro….?” his voice trailed off.

Tony’s eyes widened incredulously. “What? No!” he exclaimed, and the figure on the bed stirred. Tony winced and leaned closer to Ducky, lowering his voice. “Of course we’re not. I mean, he’s not,… I’m not…. Why would you think?… No, just no.”
Ducky was silent, filing the response away for later examination. He steepled his fingers against his lips. “And yet…” he began.

But Tony interrupted him. “It was just the hypo, Ducky. That’s all. It made him confused. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

The younger man’s voice was firm and decided, strangely so, Ducky thought wryly, for someone who until a few minutes ago had not known that Gibbs was having a hypo.

“Anthony, perhaps…” he began again.

But DiNozzo cut him off again, shaking his head. “No, Duck, really. I mean, it’s impossible. Gibbs has been married, what, 3 times? And all the red heads?” He leaned forward and gave a quiet snort. “On that score alone, I’m not his type, not to mention the err, other incompatibility.”

Ducky simply smiled slightly and titled his head, waiting.

“I think,” Tony continued, “that when he wakes up, we shouldn’t say anything about it. Let’s see what he says first. Maybe we can convince him that it never happened, that he just kind of imagined it.”

Ducky’s eyes narrowed. He paused, considering his response. But Tony pushed him.

“Okay, Ducky? Better that we don’t mention it. See what he says first.”

Grudgingly, Ducky nodded. He leaned back in the chair and glanced over at the bed where Gibbs snored quietly.

“I’m going to need to check his blood sugar in a few minutes. If he has responded, you should go and sleep in my room, and I’ll stay here so I can monitor him during the night.”

“Really?” Tony queried, “Are you sure, Ducky?”

The doctor could see the young man’s weariness leaking through. He nodded firmly. “Yes, Anthony. Jethro may still feel very unwell tomorrow, and certainly won’t be able to drive, so you should get some sleep.” He rose and collected the kit. “Go on, I’ll knock on the wall if I need you.”

“Thanks, Duck,” Tony said, raising with a groan. He paused and looked back at the figure snoring quietly on the bed. “You’re going to need to teach me how to do that, Duck” he said quietly. “I need to know how to check his blood sugar, and how to give him his medication. What dose, what to look for, when to panic, when to go to the ER.” He looked at the doctor, who nodded.

Just as Tony reached the door, Ducky spoke quietly but clearly. “Sweet dreams, Anthony,” he said, and was rewarded with a slight flush on the other man’s cheeks.

The next blood test showed that Gibbs was responding to the injection, so Ducky settled himself on the other bed and set the alarm on his phone to wake him in a few hours. He was too tired to puzzle out this conundrum that night, but he filed it away. Unusual, certainly. Intriguing even. His last thought before dropping off to sleep was that the morning could be very interesting indeed.
But it wasn’t. Gibbs woke at 6:00am, grumpy and nauseous. Ducky knocked sharply on the wall between his room and the next and heard Tony’s feet hit the floor.

Within moments the young man was in the room, clad in boxer shorts and a faded t-shirt. He approached the bed cautiously, as if uncertain of his welcome. Ducky, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Gibbs, turned and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Ah,” he said with a smile, “here he is. Anthony, I was just telling Gibbs how you took care of him last night.”

Tony’s eyes widened and he glared at the doctor.

“Noticing that he was having a hypo, and calling me, I mean,” Ducky clarified quickly. “Getting Gibbs into bed.”

Gibbs groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

Ducky looked down at him. “So, Jethro,” he asked quietly. “What is the last thing that you remember?”

The moment hung heavily. Tony seemed poised for flight.

“We found the kid,” Gibbs rasped, “We took him to his parents, and decided to stay the night here”.

“Do you remember coming back here and having dinner?”

Gibbs gave a small shake of his head, and then closed his eyes and groaned, as if rueing the movement.

Ducky glanced up. For a moment, he caught sight of Tony’s face reflected in the mirror above the nightstand. There was an expression on the young man’s face that he couldn’t quite read. But when he noticed Ducky’s eyes on him, his expression quickly shifted into a small smile. As Gibbs eyes were closed, he even risked a small thumbs up gesture.

“I’ll give you an anti-emetic for the nausea,” Ducky looking back down at Gibbs and rummaging in the bag at his feet. “No driving for 48 hours, and no coffee for a week.”

Gibbs opened one eye. Seeing Tony, he frowned. “What are you looking at, DiNozzo?” he rasped.

“Nothing Boss,” Tony responded promptly. “I’ll go pack.” He turned to leave, but then glanced back at Ducky. “Duck, like we agreed, okay?”

Ducky didn’t pretend not to understand. After a moment of consideration, he nodded.

In 30 minutes, they were packed and ready to head out.

As they walked to the car, Ducky dropped back to walk beside Tony who was lugging the equipment bag. The doctor said quietly, “He really doesn’t remember.”

Tony exhaled in relief. “You sure?” he asked in the same low tone.

Ducky nodded. “I pressed him on it, and he snapped at me. I am sure that he remembers nothing after the drive back to the hotel.”

“Good,” Tony said shortly. “So, it never happened, right Duck?” He flashed the doctor a quick smile, but his tone was firm, his eyes unflinching. “Duck?” he pressed. Then his tone changed, became more pleading. “Please Duck, I love this job. I don’t want Gibbs to get weird and push me out because of something that didn’t mean anything. So – It. Never. Happened”.

Ducky huffed a sigh, but then he nodded.

“Move it, DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked harshly from where he stood near the car.

“Moving it, Boss!” Tony responded cheerfully, jogging over to the vehicle. “C’mon Duck, let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

The second time was in Abby’s lab. And this time Gibbs ended up in hospital.

Three or four probies had come and gone, none lasting longer than a few weeks. Some had gone of their own choice, others not so much.

So, Tony and Gibbs were again working long days with long hours and too much coffee.

After one marathon stakeout, they had finally collected the suspect’s DNA, and Abby had called them down to her lab to give them the good news that Petty Officer Westbridge was their man.

As Gibbs and Tony turned to return to the bullpen, the Team Leader seemed to stumble. He righted himself and stood for a moment. Then his head dropped back, and his knees folded beneath him.

“Boss!” Tony shouted. Turning, he grabbed Gibbs as he fell, pulling him to him, and then dropping into a crouch as he took the full weight of the other man. Awkwardly he rolled onto his side and then his back, never releasing Gibbs and keeping him from face planting onto the floor.

Abby was standing dumbstruck, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horror.

“Call Ducky!” Tony barked.

But Abby didn’t move.

“Abby, get Ducky. Do it. Now!” Tony’s voice was firm and commanding.

Startled out of her panic, Abby raced to her desk and grabbed the phone.

By the time Ducky arrived in the lab, Gibbs had partially regained consciousness but was still disoriented and lying sprawled across Tony, Abby at his side.

Ducky knelt at Tony’s other side, quickly lanced Gibbs’ finger, and turned to the monitor.

Tony was trying to make small movements from beneath his Team Leader. “Let’s try and get you up, Boss,” he said patiently.

“No,” Gibbs retorted shortly, his voice muffled by Tony’s neck. “Wanna stay here. With you.”

“I’ll stay with you, Boss, I won’t let you go. But we need to get up off the floor.”

A grunt was the only reply. So, Tony wrapped his arms firmly around Gibbs and tried rolling, aiming to tip Gibbs off him, but Gibbs tightened his hold, and Tony slumped back.

“Alright Boss,” Tony conceded stroking Gibbs’ back, “we’ll stay here for a bit.”

“My Tony,” Gibbs murmured contentedly, and Abby’s eyes widened.

Ducky grimaced as he looked at the readout. “I’m sorry Jethro, but this time its hospital for you,” he said apologetically. He looked up at Abby. “Could you please call an ambulance, Abigail? Tell them that the patient is experiencing a hypoglycaemic episode with a glucose level of 51.”

Abby leapt to her feet and dashed into her office to make the call.

“He seems to be having a similar reaction to last time,” Ducky noted quietly to Tony.

“No kidding, Ducky,” Tony replied, trying but failing again to move Gibbs. “Boss,” he said patiently, “the paramedics are coming to take you to hospital. You don’t want them to see you like this. C’mon Boss, time to sit up.”

But Gibbs responded by pressing a kiss into Tony’s jaw. “Stay Tony,” he murmured.

“I will, I will,” Tony reassured him. “I will stay with you. I’ll go to the hospital with you, and I’ll stay. Okay?”

Tony looked up to see Abby standing in the doorway to her office, eyes wide. “I’ll explain later,” Tony promised in a stage whisper.

Shaking her head and raising her hands, Abby replied, “No judgment Tony, really…”

Tony thunked his head against the floor. “That’s it, Boss, we’re moving.” Slowly but forcefully, he slid sideways, always keeping his hands on Gibbs, until he was able to rise to his knees, and then shuffle around onto his butt, cradling the Team Leader in his arms. He heaved a sigh. “No offence, Gibbs, but you’re a heavy blanket.”

Gibbs just hummed happily and snuggled closer into him.

The ambulance arrived quickly, and Gibbs was loaded onto a stretcher and into the back of the vehicle. Tony kept his word. His kept his hand resting lightly on Gibbs at all times, and spoke softly to him, running his hand over his hair if he became distressed.

“I’ll get my keys and follow in my car, Tony,” Ducky explained as the paramedics wheeled Gibbs out of the lab.

Abby stood in the middle of lab, motionless among the bustle. Then she started. “Ducky, wait!” she shouted, “I’ll come with you!”

She had barely settled into his car before she began speaking.

“Oh my god Ducky, isn’t it fantastic?” she exclaimed excitedly. “They’re together - finally! How did I not know? How did I not see? Gibbs and Tony! Oh my god!”

Ducky raised one hand of the steering wheel and signalled for her to stop. “Abigail, please, it’s not what you think!”

“No, it’s what I saw!” she crowed gleefully. “Ducky, you saw it too! They’re finally together!”

“No, they’re not!” Ducky exclaimed forcefully.

Abby’s face fell. “They’re not?”

Then Ducky frowned slightly. “At least, they weren’t a year ago, in Richmond.” His brow furrowed.

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Okay Ducky,” she said firmly, “start talking. Now”.

Ducky sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. “You remember the case last year in Richmond, the kidnapping? While we were there, Gibbs had a hypo, and, like today, he was very affectionate to Tony. But Tony adamantly denied that they were, and frankly, from his reaction to Gibbs’ behaviour, I believed him. He seemed, well, taken aback doesn’t really cover it.” His lips twitched in a momentary smile.

“Then a few weeks after we got back DC,” Ducky went on, deftly navigating through the traffic behind the ambulance, “Tony was injured in that stakeout, do you remember?”

Abby nodded silently, eyes wide.

Ducky continued. “Gibbs was so concerned about him, so attentive during his recovery. I delicately questioned Gibbs about their relationship - and got very firmly put in my place for my trouble. And once he recovered, Tony resumed dating as enthusiastically as he done before, so I assumed that it was ‘case closed’.”

Abby sat in stunned silence.

“But then why did he do it?” she asked finally. “How did Gibbs explain why he did it?”

“He didn’t remember it,” Ducky answered simply. “He had no memory of anything from about an hour prior to the hypo.”

“But you told him, didn’t you, you told him what he had done?”

Ducky was silent.

“Ducky!” Abby exclaimed sadly. “You didn’t tell him! Why not?”

“Tony insisted!” Ducky said defensively. “He said that there was no point saying anything, that it was just because of the hypo and Gibbs would be embarrassed if he knew. Which is true. If Gibbs didn’t remember it, Tony thought that only harm could come from telling him.”

Abby digested this for a moment. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before finally saying, “You’re sure Gibbs didn’t remember?”

Ducky nodded. “He said that the last thing he remembered was returning the child to his parents.”

“And how did Tony react when Gibbs said that?”

Ducky paused and frowned.

“Ducky?” Abby pressed.

“It’s hard to say,” he said eventually. “When Gibbs first said it, Tony had a rather… unusual look on this face. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“Happy?” Abby suggested, “Relieved?”

Ducky shook his head. “Perhaps a little….” His voice trailed off.

“Sad?”

“Wistful,” Ducky said eventually.

“Disappointed?”

“Possibly,” Ducky said eventually. Then he paused. “Yes.” He glanced over at her, as they drove into the hospital carpark, but Abby was silent, deep in thought.

As Ducky parked the car, Abby reached over and took his arm. “Ducky,” she began hopefully, “even if they’re not together, do you think that Gibbs is behaving like this because, even though he won’t admit it ….?” Her voice trailed off.

Ducky sighed. “I confess that I just don’t know,” he said. “I know you don’t agree, Abby, but it seems very unlikely to me that Gibbs harbours feelings for Tony. I can’t say for sure - Gibbs is a very private man. And there’s no doubt that he and Tony have formed a …. a special connection, but, whether it goes any deeper than that, whether Gibbs would ever be interested in any man in a romantic or sexual way, I really don’t know.”

Abby mused for a second. “Well, I think they’d be wonderful together. And I don’t have any doubt that Tony is interested in Gibbs,” she announced firmly.

Ducky looked at her in surprise. “But, Abby, all the women that he dates….?”

Abby smiled. “I think that it’s only the women that he tells us about.”

“You think he’s bisexual?”

“I think he’s tri-sexual.”

That stumped Ducky and he raised his eyebrows.

“He’ll try anything,” Abby explained.

Ducky snorted.

“It’s a good thing,” Abby said hastily. “He’s really open-minded about who could be a good partner and who he finds attractive. And god knows, anyone with a pulse is going to find Gibbs attractive.”

Ducky looked at her over his glasses.

“Well, maybe not anyone,” Abby amended with a smile.

By the time they reached Gibbs’ room, Tony was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. He smiled as they approached and held up his hands, anticipating the need to reassure them. “He’s okay,” he said immediately, tilting his head towards the door. “The doctor is in with him now.”

“I’ll go in too,” Ducky said, moving quickly through the door.

Abby came to Tony and hugged him. Then she pulled back and glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

Tony’s mouth opened and he started stuttering. “Wh.. what…why….what?”

“That Gibbs has diabetes!” she explained, eyes narrowing. “What did you think I meant?” she teased. She felt him relax and gave him a small smile. “Ducky explained in the car about Richmond, and that this wasn’t the first time that Gibbs has, err, made you his snuggle buddy.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but then he chuckled. “It was crazy Abs, totally crazy. He was all over me. It’s like he was a totally different person. And the same today.”

Abby smiled and tilted her head. “And maybe he will remember it this time?” she suggested hopefully.

Tony pulled back a little, giving her a horrified look. “I hope not!” he retorted.

“You sure about that?” she pushed, gently.

“What?” Tony said, frowning quizzically. “Of course, I don’t want him to remember. Can you imagine how embarrassed he’d be?”

Abby looked hard at him, but there was no trace of any deception in his eyes.

Holding his gaze, she pressed on. “Tony, you don’t think that maybe,” she paused, glancing down and then back up at him, “that maybe he does it because…. well, because he wants to ... be with you?” Abby asked tentatively.

Tony’s eyes went comically wide. “He does it because of the hypo, Abby,” he exclaimed with an incredulous smile, “that’s all!” He paused for a second too long before adding, “Thank God.” He continued, his tone more serious, “And if he remembers, or if someone tells him, I could be out of NCIS so fast that you wouldn’t see me for dust.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Abby protested, “not to anyone, but especially not to you.”

“He might, and I’m not taking the chance,” Tony said firmly, locking eyes with her. “And even if he didn’t get rid of me, it would make things weird. So, I’m not telling him, and neither are you. Not a word, Abs. If he doesn’t remember, not a word.” He looked steadily at her, waiting for agreement.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay Tony,” she said softly and a touch sadly, hugging him close. “Not a word”.

When Gibbs woke the next morning, he didn’t remember, and asked Tony what the hell he thought he was doing, sitting next to his bed all night.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

She’d been at work for 36 hours straight and all Kate wanted to do was go home and undo her bra. Anyone who thought that at the end of a long day women wanted to get home to kick off their shoes hadn’t worn an underwire for 24 hours straight, she thought grimly.

She took her time in the ladies’ room, brushing her hair, cleaning her teeth and applying a subdued tea-rose lipstick. She might be doing no more than going home, but a liberal application of strong hold hairspray might be all that kept her head from exploding before she got there. Her only consolation was that the rest of the team were just as tired and looked just as bad. McGee was barely able to keep his eyes open and DiNozzo had changed into his last clean shirt 12 hours ago.

Taking a deep breath, she re-entered the bullpen and her eyes fell on Gibbs. Her eyebrows shot up, and after a moment, her mouth quirked. Was this it? she thought. Had this case achieved what nothing else had? Had it exhausted even Gibbs?

It was strange to see him slumped boneless in the chair - hell, his posture was normally so straight you could make pleats with it. But somehow it seemed wrong to her to say something about him acting... well, normal.

And then, just as Kate reached her desk, he whistled.

Her head shot around to look at him.

"Lookin’ good there, Kate,” Gibbs commented with a grin. “Got a date?"

"Um, no, actually." Kate hesitated – she was too close to home to blow it now. "There’s not something I’m supposed to be working on is there?"

“Nope.” Gibbs spun the chair around. "Nada. Zip. Zero."

Kate flashed a look at McGee, but he looked as clueless as she felt.

She had to say something, so she went for neutral. “You’re in a good mood."

"Yeah.” He stopped spinning and looked at her, head tilted, almost perplexed. "I am."

"And you’re in a good mood because we wrapped up the case...?"

Gibbs got to his feet and staggered slightly, holding on to the desk. He frowned down at his legs as if they were not doing what he wanted them to do.

Surely, he’s not drunk? Kate thought incredulously. All she had seen him drink all day was coffee!

Then DiNozzo walked into the bullpen and Gibbs’ face lit up like it was Christmas.

"Tony!"

You could have heard a pin drop. Tony froze for about half a second, green eyes as round as saucers. Then he took a long look at Gibbs.

"Get Ducky."

Kate looked from Tony’s wide eyes to Gibbs’ grin. "What?"

"Get Ducky NOW."

Tony moved quickly to Gibbs’ desk drawer and opened it, flinging a small, black kit on the desktop. Then with utmost care he settled Gibbs back in the chair and knelt before him.

"Hey, Boss. You take your insulin today?"

At Tony’s words, Kate unfroze, moving quickly around her desk, grabbing the phone and pressing the button for autopsy.

She looked up in time to see Gibbs’ hand move shakily to stroke Tony’s cheek. Tony reached up and gently forced the hand down.
“Gibbs, listen to me,” Tony said quietly, turning Gibbs’ hand over in his. “I’ve got to check your blood sugar.”

Kate hung up the phone and moved closer to Tony, noticing a shimmer of perspiration on Gibbs’ forehead and upper lip.

“How much coffee did he drink today?”

“What?”

Tony snapped out the question again. “How much coffee has he had?”

“I don’t know. A lot. Why?”

“Too much caffeine masks the hypoglycaemic symptoms.” He professionally lanced the finger held between his own. “He can go into insulin shock, and you don’t notice ‘til he’s not making sense.”

Tony glanced down at the monitor and cursed at the result. Gibbs stared at his injured hand with intense fascination for a moment, before reaching again to stroke Tony’s face.

Ducky arrived and slid between the pair, putting his own fingers expertly on Gibbs’ carotid. “What’s the reading?”

Tony held the reader toward him in answer.

“Ambulance?” asked Ducky quietly, keeping his fingertips on the pulse point.

Gibbs seemed oblivious to both Ducky and the commotion as he continued smiling softly at Tony.

“He’ll hate that,” Tony objected. “Can’t we get him stabilised here? I’ll stay and monitor him. If anything changes, I’ll call an ambulance straight away, I promise.”

Ducky sighed and then conceded. “Where are his glucose pills?” he asked.

Tony stood up and fished in his pocket for a flat pill case. “Here.”

“Jethro?”

Gibbs finally noticed Ducky, turning to smile at him.

“I need you to swallow these.”

When there was no response, he shook him a little.

“Jethro.”

The tone was more insistent, but still there was no reply. Ducky glanced at Tony and gave an apologetic shrug.

Tony knelt again. “Boss,” he said softly. Gibbs turned to Tony and smiled again. A little unsteadily he raised both hands and cupped Tony’s face, staring at him as if memorizing every feature.

“Boss, I need you to take these pills,” Tony coaxed gently. He held out his hand, two white pills resting on one fingertip.

Gibbs glanced down and saw the pills. He looked back at Tony with a slight frown.

“Please?” Tony urged. “For me?”

A glint of mischief appeared in Gibbs’ eyes. Ducking his head he took the pills, and the tip of Tony’s finger, into his mouth.

Tony slowly drew his hand back, but the pills stayed in Gibbs’ mouth. “Atta boy,” he praised softly. Then he glanced around, noticing the stunned looks on the faces of Kate and McGee.

“We need to get him down to Abby’s lab,” Ducky interjected, breaking what was threatening to become a very uncomfortable silence.

Tony stood and turned to McGee. “Probie, get over here and give me a hand,” he ordered. “Kate, call Abby and tell her to unfold the futon in her office.”

McGee and Tony each took one of Gibbs’ arms and slowly drew him to his feet. He swayed for a moment before righting himself. Tony put one of Gibbs’ arms over his shoulder and his own arm around Gibbs’ waist. McGee moved to do the same, but Gibbs pulled from him, wrapped his other arm around Tony’s middle and turned his face into Tony’s neck.

Tony rolled his eyes and wrapped him arms firmly around the Team Leader. “Okay Boss,” he conceded, “but you’re no lightweight.” He took a few steps and glanced back. “Stay close Probie. I don’t want to drop him.”

McGee did, and with Ducky and Kate following behind they made their way slowly to the elevator. Kate glanced around but the rest of the floor was empty – a small mercy granted to those who worked till the small hours of the morning.

When they entered the elevator Tony leaned back against the wall and Gibbs promptly draped himself over him, eyes closed, head resting in the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony kept his eyes fixed on the illuminated numbers above the doors, not shifting his gaze even when gently removing the hand that Gibbs slipped up inside his shirt.

Abby pounced on them as soon as they entered her lab, moving immediately to Gibbs’ side to help, or possibly hinder, Tony’s efforts to navigate the wilting Team Leader past the lab equipment and into the office beyond.

She had opened out the futon, and a pillow sat at its head and a blanket near its foot.

Tony carefully disengaged Gibbs’ arms and sat him on to the bed. But as he tried to move away Gibbs tightened his grip on Tony’s shirt, pulling Tony forwards.

With a sigh, Tony steadied himself. “You need to lie down, Boss,” he murmured encouragingly into Gibbs’ ear. “I won’t go anywhere, just lie back.”

Slowly Gibbs released him. Tony put one had on Gibbs’ chest and one behind his head and pushed him gently backwards. True to his word, he then sat on the edge of the bed near the pillow and ran a quick hand through Gibbs’ hair. “See, still here,” he confirmed.

“He’s being all...,” Abby commented, frowning.

“Yep,” Tony responded shortly, not looking up.

“Just like last time.”

“And the time before,” Ducky added.

Tony shot him a glance and the ME fell silent. Then he sat on the side of the bed and began examining the patient.

“Go home,” Tony ordered, shooting a look at McGee and Kate. “You too, Abby.”

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but Abby gave her a gentle nudge. She glanced around, tilted her head quickly back toward the door, and she headed out of the lab. Kate closed her mouth and followed her, McGee trailing behind. Looking back over her shoulder, Kate saw Tony gently run his hand again over Gibbs’ hair. Then the office door slid closed.

Kate turned, questions bubbling to her lips.

“Not here,” Abby hissed. Grabbing one arm each of Kate and McGee, she dragged them into the elevator, stopping to snatch up her coat and bag on the way past.

“What the.....?”

The words burst forth from McGee as soon as Abby’s hand hit the emergency stop button.

Kate raised her arm and gestured back in the direction of the lab. “Abby, what...?”

“Just stop, both of you.” Abby held up her hands, demanding silence and getting it. She drew a deep breath. “It’s not what you think...”

“I think Gibbs was all over Tony like white on rice,” McGee interrupted heatedly. “And Tony was letting him do it!”

“It’s not like that! It’s just when his blood sugar drops ...!” Abby protested.

“Abby,” Kate interjected. “Has this happened before?”

Abby gave a miserable nod. “Twice that I know of. Once I saw. The other Ducky told me about.” She shrugged. “When Gibbs’ blood sugar ditches, he gets all... affectionate.”

“He wasn’t affectionate to me,” McGee countered.

“To Tony,” Abby corrected. “He gets affectionate to Tony.”

Kate tilted her head and looked at Abby, who was gazing at her boots. “So, are they.... do they....?”

Abby shook her head. “No,” she murmured sadly. “When Gibbs wakes up, he’s his usual old self again. And he doesn’t remember what he did.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Doesn’t Tony say anything about it?” Now McGee was with the program.

Abby vigorously shook head. “No way. No-one does. Tony is adamant. He says that no-one can mention it because Gibbs would be embarrassed.”

“But if that’s how Gibbs feels about him...?”

“Tony says it’s not how he feels – it’s just the blood sugar ditch. So he won’t let anyone say anything.”

There was silence.

“So they’re not....?” McGee asked.

Abby’s pigtails swung as she shook her head again.

“And Gibbs really doesn’t remember?” Kate asked doubtfully.

Abby simply shook her head again.

Kate paused. As far as she could tell, Gibbs was not homophobic. He was generally no more or less a bastard to gay people than he was to straight people. She had never heard him make any comment on gays in the military or use a derogatory epithet to describe homosexuals. But he’d been married quite a few times, so he couldn’t possibly be... Could he?

Or was it possible that Gibbs only had those feelings when his blood sugar plummeted? Was it possible that these feeling were caused by a chemical imbalance? Low blood sugar, like alcohol or drugs, could affect behaviour, make a person less inhibited and more open (her own youthful indiscretions had taught her that) but could it make someone express an emotion they did not otherwise feel?

Or perhaps what Gibbs was expressing was simply affection, not desire? She ventured that opinion. “Perhaps it’s just a kind of ... brotherly or fatherly affection?”

Abby and McGee both looked at her.

“Your father ever look at you like that, Kate?” McGee responded rhetorically. “Mine didn’t.”

Her mind flashed back to the look in Gibbs’ eyes when he had cupped Tony’s face. For a second, she remembered the last time someone had looked at her like that. There was no mistaking that look.

She knew about Rule 12 – it was the first of Gibbs’ rules that she had learned, and she learned it the hard way. Was that at play here? But that presupposed a romantic interest – towards Tony. Was that even possible? And what did Tony feel about it?

All at once the underwire in her bra seemed to stab into her brain, right behind her eye.

“I can’t deal with this now,” she declared, hitting the button to start the lift. “I am just too exhausted. I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

Neither McGee nor Abby demurred. They didn’t speak again until they parted ways in the carpark when they exchanged muted goodbyes.

Chapter Text

The next day Abby arrived early. Entering the lab, she saw the outline of a shape lying on the futon in her office. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she also made out a pair of legs, stretching away from the bed to the corner of the room. She crept forward. Tony sat in a chair near the foot of the bed, longs legs stretched out onto the mattress, hands hanging down and head back. He snored quietly.

As if aware of her presence, Gibbs stirred.

Tony’s eyes snapped open, and he moved from the chair to the bed in an instant.

Gibbs blinked a few times then peered up at Tony though half open eyes. “What...?” he croaked.

“You had a hypo, Boss. Too much coffee and – boom, down you went. Ducky got you stabilised and we thought you’d rather sleep it off here than in hospital.”

Gibbs gave a quiet groan.

“How do you feel?’ Tony pressed.

Gibbs fixed him with a glare. “Like shit, DiNozzo.”

Okay, Abby thought, normal service had been resumed.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she blurted out.

Tony’s head shot around. Gibbs moved more slowly to look at her, turning his head to face her where she stood in the doorway to the office.

“That doesn’t matter....” Tony began.

“We brought Fisher in for questioning,” Gibbs responded blurrily. Then he started. “Did we get him? Did he confess?”

“You got him,” Tony corrected. “Took about an hour, but he cracked. It’s all done and dusted Boss.”

Gibbs grunted in approval.

Tony hesitated, then asked, “Is that the last the last thing you remember?”

Gibbs gave a weary nod.

“I’d better check your blood sugar again,” Tony said briskly, turning his head away to look for the kit. “Ducky is due an update.” Abby’s stomach gave a wrench at Tony’s businesslike demeanour.

“No need,” an English voice interjected. Ducky strolled into the office, removing his hat and dropping it on to the bed. Tony quickly stood up and moved away. He ran his hand through his hair and across his face.

Ducky glanced at him. “Why don’t you go and have a shower, Anthony? It must have been a long night for you.”

Tony nodded and went to move, before pausing. He looked back at Gibbs, now lying with his eyes closed, and then at Ducky.
“Same drill as last time, Duck.”
He waited until the ME gave a reluctant nod before moving off. As he brushed past Abby, she graced him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

****

Ducky pronounced Gibbs fit for desk work, but he reserved the right to object if a case came in requiring field work. And he strictly forbade both driving and coffee.

The first was not a problem – no new case came in, and there was enough paperwork on their current case to keep the team busy at their desks for the rest of the day. The second was harder. Gibbs already felt rough – the hypo had left him tired and with a headache that was aggravated by the lack of caffeine.

He also had a lingering sense of unease – he hated not remembering what had happened in those late hours the previous night. Listening to the recording of the interview with Fisher had brought back snatches of the evening, but not all of it. And he had no idea what he had done to make McGee and Kate act as if he might grow another head at any moment. Only Tony was behaving normally – or what passed as normal for him. If anything, he was a little too cheerful, which also didn’t help Gibbs’ headache.

Even Abby was acting strangely. When he went down to visit her, she kept staring silently at him, as though she was waiting for something. Too tired to deal with one of her labyrinthine explanations, he decided to leave it. But she didn’t.

“Gibbs?” she asked hesitantly, as he turned to leave.

“What?” he spat back.

She went quiet and ducked her eyes and he felt a stab of guilt that no-one else had ever been able to engender in him.

“Sorry Abs,” he said gently, stepping in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’m still feeling a bit rough. What’s up?”

She tilted her head and gave him an apologetic smile. “I know you still feel bad Boss, but....”

“But?” he prompted.

“Tony was really good to you last night. He looked after you. He was the one who worked out what was wrong, he stopped Ducky taking you to hospital, and he got you to take your sugar pills when Ducky couldn’t...”

Gibbs started. “Why wouldn’t I take them?”

Abby hesitated. “Oh, umm, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But the others said that you were really out of it and wouldn’t take them, but Tony convinced you to. And he stayed here all night keeping an eye on you....”

He interrupted. “Abby, what’s this about?”

She fixed him with green eyes that they never failed to melt his heart. “Did you say, “thank you”?” she asked quietly.

Damn.

He hadn’t.

And she knew it.

He sighed. “I will,” he vowed. “I promise, Abs.”

She nodded and stole a quick peck on his cheek. Then she paused again, and opened her mouth, but closed it again.

“Abs?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she lied. “You go. Express gratitude. Right now.”

He returned to the bullpen in time to hear the closing words of a quiet but intense argument between his agents.

“Just drop it,” he heard Tony hiss. “It’s none of you damned business, so keep out of it.”

Gibbs could count on one hand the number of times he had heard Tony sound genuinely angry. Even if he hadn’t already resolved to speak to him, that would have been enough to make him take him aside.

“DiNozzo,” he barked, “with me.”

Tony sprang to his feet and exchanged a panicked glance with Kate. Even McGee’s head shot up, eyes wide with alarm.

“Boss,” Tony gabbled. “How long, I mean what did you....?”

“With me!” Gibbs repeated emphatically, turning on his heel and stalking back to the elevator. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that his Senior Agent was following him.

Tony started talking as soon as the elevator came to a halt. “Boss, I don’t know what you heard, but Kate...”

“I didn’t hear anything, DiNozzo,” Gibbs interrupted mildly.

Tony started. “Then why.... I mean, I assumed... ?”

Gibbs stepped up and gave him a very gentle slap on the head. “Never assume,” he said quietly.

Tony finally got the message and stayed silent.

Gibbs mouth twitched in what might have been a slight smile.

“I got you in here, DiNozzo, to say “thank you”.” It was worth it just for the stunned expression on Tony’s face. “I know that it was you who picked up what was wrong with me and convinced Ducky not to take me to hospital. So,... thanks.”

Gibbs could almost see the emotions flashing across Tony’s face. Confusion, surprise, a little embarrassment. And something else, a hesitancy, almost a wariness. Like Abby, as if he was expecting more.

“Tony?”

Tony snapped out of it. “No problem, Boss, really. I mean, you’ve looked after me often enough.”

Gibbs gave a slight grin in acknowledgement of the truth of the statement. He reached out to hit the Emergency Stop button but hesitated.

“One thing, though.”

Tony visible stiffened.

Gibbs continued. “Abby said you got me to take my pills when Ducky couldn’t. How did you do that?”

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times before anything came out. “I just... just, you know, asked, and showed you the pills, and umm... you just, you know, took them.” He grinned broadly, as if his answer made sense.

Gibbs stared at him, processing the response, listening for what wasn’t there. Which was a heck of a lot.

The grin faded and the fidgeting started.

Gibbs didn’t need to speak.

“Really, Boss,” Tony began, “it was nothing. I just held the pills out to you, and you took them.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “Okay, Tony,” he responded. He leant forward slowly and released the button, setting the elevator in motion. Tony gave a small exhalation and his shoulders relaxed. Gibbs smiled inwardly. It wasn’t over.

****

The next morning, Gibbs felt like a new man. And he was a man with a mission. Nowhere near as computer illiterate as he made out, his early arrival gave him the time and the privacy to do what he wanted. His high-level security clearance helped too.

The pictures from the security cameras were grainy, but there was no mistaking what he saw. He saw the moment the sugar ditch hit, and his body slumped in his seat. He saw the looks of shock and concern on the faces of McGee and Kate. He saw Tony walk into the bullpen, stop and look at him. A slow feeling of dread began building his stomach, but he could not look away. He saw Tony settle him in his chair and prick his finger. He saw Ducky arrive and take his pulse. He saw Tony hold out the pills and he saw him take them. He saw Tony and McGee help him stand, and he saw how he turned away from McGee to hold on to Tony. He saw them walking as a group to the lift, and then they disappeared from view.
And through it all he saw his eyes fixed on Tony. He saw his hands stroke and cup Tony’s face. He saw his arms wrap around Tony’s waist. And he saw him take Tony’s finger between his lips.

He closed the file on his computer and shut his eyes. Well, now he knew. God damn it. What the hell was he meant to do, now that he knew?
He heard the elevator chime and pulled his chair into his desk. He fixed his eyes resolutely on the file on his desk. Please, he thought, please....

“Morning Boss.”

The fates were against him.

“Mornin’ DiNozzo,” he responded shortly, not looking up.

He waited until the other team members had arrived, then picked up his coffee cup from the desk and walked through the bullpen.

“Boss?”

Tony’s voice stopped him. Now he had to look. He glanced over. His hand tightened on his cup.

“What, DiNozzo?”

“Umm, sorry Boss, but Ducky said you’re restricted to decaf, remember?”

Gibbs looked at him a second longer than necessary.

“I remember, DiNozzo.”

He resumed his walk from the bullpen.

Ducky was hanging his hat on the hook by the door when Gibbs entered autopsy.

“Good morning, Jethro,” he said cheerfully. “How are you feeling today?”
“Fine,” Gibbs responded shortly. “We need to talk.”

“A case?”

“No. Not a case.”

Ducky looked at him with a steady gaze. “I see,” he commented slowly. “Have a seat.”

Gibbs followed him and took the chair beside the desk. He glanced over at the door.

“Mr Palmer will not be in till 10.00am,” he advised, correctly reading Gibbs’ hesitation. “He has a class this morning.”

Gibbs nodded.

Ducky waited.

Gibbs shuffled his feet. He drew a slow breath. Finally, he spoke.

“I saw the security video.”

Ducky frowned.

“Of the other night,” Gibbs explained. “I saw what happened in the bullpen when I had the hypo. I saw.... what I did. To Tony.”

“Oh,” was Ducky’s mild reply.

“Oh?” Gibbs repeated. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” He slapped a hand on the desk. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me what I had done?”

Ducky shrugged and held out his hands in a gesture of supplication. “Well, after the second time...”

“The second time?” Gibbs started. “What do you mean “the second time”?”

Ducky closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He took a moment before speaking. “Do you remember the first attack you had after Tony started, we were investigating a kidnapping case in Richmond?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Well, that was the first time. Anthony was with you, and you were.... you were very affectionate to him. But when you woke, you had no memory of it and your behaviour returned to normal. Anthony and I spoke about it and agreed it might just have been an anomaly. But then it happened again, during the Westbridge case.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gibbs asked incredulously.

Ducky shook his head. “Because Anthony demanded my silence. He was very insistent about it. And at the time I agreed with him.”

“Why?”

“Because neither of us quite knew what was happening. If your behaviour was just the product of the sugar ditch, as Anthony insisted, he was right that you would be terribly embarrassed by it. You gave no indication of having those sorts of feelings at other times, and made that quite clear to me when I tried to speak to you about it.”

Gibbs’ mind flashed back to a few aborted conversations with Ducky. One was about Tony’s flirting, and whether it bothered him. That had simply earned the ME an incredulous look. The second had been when Tony had been injured. Ducky’s oblique comment about Gibbs’ tender care for his Senior Agent had not justified the stinging rebuke it received, but it had done the job. The topic had not been raised again.

Gibbs sighed and ran a hand over his face.

But Ducky had not finished. “And, of course, it was not just your feelings that I was concerned with. I had no idea how Anthony felt. He was so sure that you couldn’t possibly care for him in that way, so determined to prevent you knowing.... He convinced me to say nothing, and between us we convinced Abby.”

Gibbs’ collapse during the Westbridge case had occurred in Abby’s lab. He didn’t recall it himself, but he had “gone down like a bag of spuds”, as Abby had colourfully described it. And Tony had caught him on the way down.

Gibbs shook his head. He didn’t know what he had expected to hear from Ducky, but this wasn’t it. Had he hoped that Ducky would give him an excuse, some “plausible deniability” for his behaviour? But he knew that, even if Ducky had done so, he would never have accepted it. He knew what his feelings were. He might keep them to himself, but he knew.

Ducky waited.

“So, what do I do now, Duck?” Gibbs asked rhetorically. “Do I just go on pretending it didn’t happen?”

“What do you want to do?” was the quiet response.

Gibbs huffed a sigh and said nothing.

“Jethro,” Ducky said in exasperation. “You came down here to speak to me. So speak to me. It’s a simple question. What do you want?”

“It’s not simple,” Gibbs shot back. “It’s anything but simple.” He looked down and away, shifting a little in the chair.

“Well, let’s come at it from a different angle,” Ducky persisted patiently. “Can I ask a question of a personal nature?”

“Bet you’re gonna,” Gibbs muttered, and then gave a grudging nod.

“Have you ever been in a romantic or sexual relationship with another man?” the ME asked bluntly.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Romantic isn’t the word I’d use.”

“All right then, emotional or sexual relationship?”

Ducky waited. Gibbs folded his arms and finally raised his eyes. He gave a brief nod, and said gruffly, “Mostly the err… latter. Bit of the former.”

“So, you wouldn’t object to a relationship with a man? As long as it was, the right man?”

Again, Gibbs gave a brief nod.

Ducky sighed. “Jethro, I’ve had root canal that has been less painful than this conversation! There’s no need to be coy or embarrassed with me.”
That drew a snort of laughter. “I’m embarrassed by myself, Ducky. I feel ridiculous even thinking about it.”

Ducky leaned forward and fixed him with a stare. “Why, Jethro? Why ridiculous?”

“Because its impossible!” Gibbs shot back. “It’s impossible, Duck. There are too many reasons why it just can’t happen.”

“Like what?” Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but Ducky forestalled him with a raised hand. “And please,” he said in mock severity, “don’t just cite Rule 12. Tell me why – really, why.”

That earned him a wry smile. Gibbs started with the obvious. “Because he’s my senior agent.”

“And?”

Gibbs snorted. “Can you image the gossip, the talk? Everyone would know, they’d be talking…”

“Are you afraid that Anthony would be indiscreet?”

“He is the poster child for indiscreet!”

“Is he?” Ducky queried mildly. “How much do people really know about him? Other than what he wants them to know?”

Gibbs was silent.

Ducky continued. “Anthony is one of the most skilled people that I have ever met at creating a smokescreen, obfuscating, sleight of hand. Only a very few people are permitted to see behind the mask. I don’t believe that he would have any difficulty in maintaining secrecy, if that is what you want.”

Gibbs was silent for a moment. “Well, what if it goes bad? Chances are that it will. You know my track record. I’m not easy.”

“And yet Anthony has been with you, day after day, for how long now?” Ducky countered rhetorically. “All relationships have ups and downs, and yes it can be difficult when you work together too. But your relationship with him has lasted longer than your last 3 marriages. He knows exactly what he would be getting into with you, better than almost anyone else.”

Ducky leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “Jethro, my friend, you’ve have clearly thought about what can go wrong. But to make an informed decision, you must consider what could go right. Do you ever think about how good it could be, to be in a relationship with Anthony?”

“Have I ever thought about it?” Gibbs retorted incredulously. “Ducky, I try not to. I don’t let myself. It’s too… it’s .. “. He shook his head. “There’s no point,” he finally said, not a little bitterly.

“Well, I’m asking you to think about it,” Ducky insisted. “I am asking you to think about spending your evenings with Anthony, relaxing together, him being with you while you work on your boat. Watching movies together. Having dinner,” he paused, puckish smile appearing, “and breakfast.”
Gibbs huffed a laugh, but his face softened.

“You could take him out on your boat,” Ducky continued quietly. “Spend your weekends together, watching sport. You could travel together. You would be each other’s next of kin, officially. Be together when one of you is sick or injured, without needing to make excuses. Wake up every morning, together.”

Gibbs was motionless, eyes cast down, his lips curved into a soft smile. Ducky looked gently at his friend.

“Oh Jethro,” he said softly. “You could be so happy. Both of you.”

Gibbs raised his eyes. He shook his head, but it was somehow less definite, less convincing. After a moment, he spoke quietly. “That’s a big assumption, Duck. That I could make him happy”. He raised a hand in a gesture of futility. “Who know how Tony feels? I mean, he clearly didn’t want to say anything about it....”

“Only because he thought that you didn’t feel anything for him,” Ducky insisted. Then he paused before playing his trump card.

“Abby thinks that you two would be wonderful together.”

Gibbs head shot up. “What?”

Ducky smiled. “When you had the hypo in her lab, she was quite convinced that you were together, that you had finally come to your senses. She was gutted when I had to tell her the truth.”

Gibbs gave a wry smile. “She really said that?” he asked, a little hesitantly. “That she thinks Tony and I would be good together?”

Ducky smiled. “Yes, she did,” he said simply. “As do I.” He fixed Gibbs with a stern gaze. “So what are you going to do, Jethro? Are you going to continue in your splendid isolation?” he paused. “And leave Tony in his? You can martyr yourself if you wish, but can you justify doing that to Tony?”

****

His conversation with Ducky played over and over in his head; a constant repetition of “woulds” and “coulds” and “shouldn’ts”.

Finally, he forced himself to approach the question with some semblance of logic. The whole debate was moot if Tony did not return his feelings. Abby’s opinion carried weight with him, but he needed more before he would allow himself to believe it.

In a way, that would be easier if Tony didn’t return his feelings. Then he could shut them down, these annoying, traitorous glimpses, fuelled by his conversation with Ducky, of how it would feel, what it would be like if....

It was Friday, and the team were delighted when he sent them home at 6.00pm. He needed privacy again and time to think. When the bullpen was quiet, he re-opened the file of the security footage. This time, instead of watching himself, he watched Tony. He watched the gentleness with which he sat him back in the chair and performed the blood test. Watched him not pull away as Gibbs stroked his face. Watched the small twitch of the lips that might have been a smile as Gibbs took the pills from his fingers.

Then he froze the image and leant forward. When he had first watched the footage all he had seen was the rapt and entranced look on his own face. Now he saw, thought he saw, hoped he saw, the same emotion reflected back at him. Or was it just wishful thinking? If the person caring for him had been Ducky, or McGee, or Stan, how would they have reacted to his behaviour? Still careful, he knew that, still considerate. But there would have been a discomfort in them, an awkwardness, a touch of embarrassment. There was none of that from Tony. He was gazing at Gibbs as though his Boss stroking his face was not just normal, but welcome. Was it?

“So now you know.”

Gibbs jumped. It was rare for anyone to be able to sneak up on him. The fact that it was Abby in her enormous platform boots was evidence of just how distracted he was.

She settled herself on the corner of his desk and looked at the image on the screen and then at him. Gibbs moved his hand to the mouse, intending to close the file, but Abby spoke again.

“You break his heart, you know?”

Her voice was low and sad, but her words were emphatic.

“Every time you wake up and don’t remember and push him away again, you break his heart.” She glanced at the screen. “Ducky doesn’t see it, but I know it’s true. When you start to wake up, there’s this moment of expectation, as if he’s wondering if this time... But then you open your eyes, and you snarl and snap at him and he smiles and joke about it. And it starts again. But every time you do it, you break his heart, just a little.”
She looked hard at Gibbs. “Is that what you needed to know?”

He nodded.

“Then fix it,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the temple, and left.

*****

The knock on his door woke Tony from a light doze on the sofa. He hadn’t caught up on the sleep he had missed on the night he spent in the chair by the side of Gibbs’ bed. This weekend, he had resolved, was going to involve a lot of rest. And, given recent events and despite any feeble resolutions otherwise, probably a fair bit of “relaxation”.

He dragged himself off the sofa and over to the door, opening it without thinking.

“What did I tell you about checking first?” Gibbs growled.

Tony stared at him, suddenly self-conscious in his cut off sweats and no shirt.

“Well?” came the order.

“Um, I ah, should... check?”

“Damn straight you should. I could’ve been anyone.”

Tony didn’t argue. He simply stepped aside and said, “C’mon on in, Boss.”

Gibbs did.

“We catch a case?” Tony asked, moving quickly into the living room and grabbing a t-shirt from a pile on one of the chairs.

Gibbs did not answer. Instead, he gestured to the pile of clothes and asked, “You packing to go somewhere, DiNozzo?”

“No Boss, I .. um, I was going to do some ironing while I watched a game.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Tony objected. “I’ve gotta iron, Boss. Can’t stand creased clothes. You’re a Marine, you should get that.”

“I get it Tony,” Gibbs commented. “I just never thought you’d do it yourself.”

“Well, unless I get a visit from the Laundry Fairy sometime soon, I don’t have much choice.”

Tony was stuck by the strangeness of standing half dressed in his living room discussing laundry with Gibbs.

He repeated his earlier question. “Did we get a case, Boss?”

Gibbs shook his head.

Tony waited.

Gibbs gestured with his head to the television. “Who’s playing?” he asked.

“Bulls and Jazz, game 6 of 1998”.

Gibbs grunted approvingly. Then glanced at Tony. “Mind if I join you?”

Tony started a little, then grinned. “Have a seat.”

He quickly scooped the clothes from the chair and dumped them back in the laundry.

“Hey Boss, want a beer?” he called, ducking into the kitchen. He noted with relief that, apart from the ironing, his apartment was reasonably tidy. And he had beer in the fridge. He had no idea why Gibbs was here, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And if it gave him more to think about over the weekend, well, that was just a bonus.

When he came back into the room, he was surprised to see Gibbs sitting on the sofa, not the chair. But he didn’t blink as he handed over one of the beers and settled himself on the other end of the sofa.

Gibbs extended the neck of the bottle towards him. Tom gave a slight smile as they clinked, and they settled back to watch the game.

It was one of the best matches of all time, and that wasn’t just Tony’s opinion. Michael Jordan’s swansong with the Bulls against a resurgent Jazz was a tightly fought battle that went right down to the wire. Jordan’s last second, match-winning 20-foot jump shot was the stuff of legend and every sports-mad child’s dream.

But Tony wasn’t sure that either he or Gibbs gave the game their full attention. He glanced sideways at Gibbs a few times through the last quarter, only to be disconcerted to find Gibbs glancing back at him. He was no fool – he could read the clues. Something was coming. He had to prepare himself. By the time the game ended, he was ready for the conversation he’d never wanted to have.

“Tony, I need to talk to you about something.”

Here it comes, he thought. Which of them had blabbed?

“I saw the security camera footage.”

Okay, no-one blabbed. But Tony couldn’t help himself. He would rather say the words himself than hear them from Gibbs. He turned to face Gibbs, one knee bent sideways on the sofa.

“It’s okay Boss. I know what you’re going to say – that you didn’t mean it, and I should forget it ever happened. Not a problem, Boss. I get it.”
Gibbs looked at him silently and then moved to mirror his posture, so their knees were almost touching.

Tony waited. Why didn’t Gibbs speak? Any why was he looking at him like that? What was he thinking? Damn it, why couldn’t the man at least give him a hint?

“Is that what I was going to say, Tony?”

Well, that didn’t help. The words and the tone were mild, and there was his first name. So what....?

Gibbs took pity on him.

“I didn’t come here to say that. I came....” Gibbs paused and glanced down.

Tony frowned. Gibbs seemed hesitant, uncertain. This wasn’t the Gibbs he knew. He didn’t have a playbook for this Gibbs.

Gibbs stared fixedly at Tony’s knee. Finally, he moved. Very slowly he reached out and took Tony’s hand in his.

Tony froze as if fearful that any movement would break whatever spell was operating here.

Gibbs ran a calloused thumb across Tony’s knuckles.

Then the spell went into overdrive. Gibbs pulled gently on Tony’s hand as he leaned towards him. Tony’s eyes locked onto Gibbs’ lips which, amazingly were getting closer and closer to his own. Then Gibbs kissed him. His lips were soft and wet and tasted of beer. Time slowed and Tony’s eyes dropped closed. His whole being, every nerve, every sense felt nothing but Gibbs’ lips against his. All Tony could do was return the pressure. He couldn’t even breath.

After a second Gibbs drew back, and Tony opened his eyes. Gibbs face was inches from his own, head slightly tilted. His eyes met Tony’s, and Tony drew a slow breath.

“Boss?” he whispered.

Gibbs crooked a little smile. “Yeah Tony?”

“Would you mind doing a blood sugar test for me, just so I know, you know that this isn’t....?”

Gibbs chuckled. By way of answer, he lifted one hand to cup the back of Tony’s head. He drew them together, and this time, Tony kissed him back.