Chapter Text
It's late on Saturday evening. Outside, the weather is atrocious, but here in Gibbs' basement it's warm and surprisingly cozy. Tony thinks it must have something to do with the smell of sawdust that permeates the place. Gibbs pauses in his smoothing down of a graceful arch of rib and takes a sip of bourbon. He looks over at the stairs, where Tony is still nursing an empty beer bottle and it can't be the liquor loosening his tongue because nothing short of the really good drugs will do that, but still he hears himself saying, 'You ever going to stop checking me out and make a damn move?'
Tony's jaw drops. So does the bottle. It rolls down the last couple of steps to lie in the corner. And Tony, suave, confident ladies' man that he is, blushes.
'I, uh... I could go. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just didn't think you'd notice and you're just... The way you... I'm sorry,' he babbles.
Gibbs puts down his drink with a sigh. 'Come here, Tony.'
Reluctantly, the younger man leaves the stairs and comes around the boat to stand in front of the ex-marine. He hunches in anticipation of the mother of all headslaps, but the hand Gibbs reaches out curls possessively around the curve of Tony's neck and pulls him closer, close enough to kiss.
So he does.
After a moment of astonishment, Tony melts into the kiss, pressing himself against Gibbs' lean, strong frame. He kisses back shamelessly, hungrily, devouring Gibbs' mouth with his own, lips narrower, less gentle than any woman's and late-night stubble just making an appearance, felt rather than seen. The heat is a match for Gibbs' own and Tony's hands are at his hips, gripping him firmly, holding him in place as though Tony's afraid he might suddenly disappear.
They end up in bed together and past all the first-time awkwardness it's great. Something lying dormant in the connection they've always had sparks to life and they both feel its fierce burn. This attraction, this itch-scratching, this whatever-it-is isn't enough. They fuck until they fall asleep, exhausted, and even asleep they move together, one turning and the other following so that they never lose contact throughout the whole night.
Gibbs is an early riser and with his hands stroking Tony's smooth, tanned skin, so is the younger agent. There's a noticeable lack of grumbling about the hour and demands for coffee; instead, moans and prayers and grunts fill the air until they're sated temporarily and tumble back into sleep at least for a little while.
They spend the whole day in bed, apart from the necessities of the flesh, such as food, eaten together standing half-naked in the kitchen, pressed up against the worktop, flavors stolen and savored from each other's mouths and fingertips.
Tony has to leave early Monday morning in order to go home to shower and change into a fresh suit of clothes, but neither of them has to like it.
People notice Tony looks like he got laid, but it's not an uncommon look on him and he makes the expected comments about long legs and a great ass, all the while not mentioning who they belong to, and pretty soon Tim's throwing paper at Tony and Ziva's making pointed comments and no one thinks anything more of it. Their highly-trained investigative team somehow fails to notice that Gibbs, too, looks as though he's been thoroughly fucked through the mattress. It's obvious, Tony thinks and makes a note to get them to look past the surface. Later. When he and Gibbs have their grins under control.
They aren't deliberately discreet; it's just a byproduct of their upbringing, their chosen profession. Even though the world has changed almost beyond recognition since sodomy was illegal in most states, they've both worked more than enough cases to know the consequences of intolerance. Besides, this whatever-it-is flourishes in the dark, in secrecy and stolen hours. And it's nice not to have it exposed to scrutiny, to oversight and questions about their future intentions. They've come close enough to death on so many occasions that the future is something they no longer automatically expect. It'll take care of itself when it comes.
But after they've been together exclusively for over a year, after they've learned each other's bodies and those parts of their minds that are too intimate to share with anyone not a lover, a partner, after they've learned to sleep better together than apart, they catch a month of case after case. Late nights and early morning call outs take their toll until they're barely sleeping when they get a few hours of downtime because they end up alone, needing time apart but unable to relax alone in too-large beds. Gibbs' frustration builds, coming out as impatience, anger, until Tony is all that stands between him and murdering the next stupid son of a bitch that thinks they can get away with selling drugs and weapons and killing their fellow servicemen. His hand aches from slamming it down on the table in the interrogation room, but better that than into a suspect's jaw.
They wrap up a case and with the final reports filed, the director orders them to take a week off. They scatter, relieved beyond all measure to be out of each other's company for a few days. Gibbs stands in his basement, bourbon in hand, and stares at his boat. He still wants to hit Tony, furious at the clowning around that draws his ire away from the rest of the team as unerringly as a lightning rod at the height of a storm. But Tony isn't there and Gibbs refuses to go and search him out in case he does hit him: he isn't sulking.
An hour later and Tony still isn't there and Gibbs can't stand it any longer. He slams down his tools and pounds up the stairs, determined to go find the younger man and drag him back here, back home, to be with Gibbs where he belongs. He stops short in the living room. A sneaker lies on its side in the middle of the floor. It's Tony's and it most certainly hadn't been there when Gibbs got home. He picks it up; it still carries a trace of warmth. Gibbs shakes his head. He hadn't heard Tony moving around: he's been getting much better at being stealthy. Gibbs isn't convinced this is such a good thing.
The other sneaker lies at the bottom of the stairs and Tony's faded Ohio State sweatshirt sprawls across the top three steps. His jeans are in the hallway; his t-shirt hangs from the doorknob of door to their room. It hasn't been Gibbs' room since the first night Tony slept in it. Gibbs takes the t-shirt and pushes the door open. Tony is lying face down on the bed, hips propped up on a couple of pillows, his head pillowed on his arms. He looks fast asleep; Gibbs thinks he should look vulnerable, waiting there with the graceful arch of back and neck exposed to Gibbs' gaze. Somehow he manages to look strong, sculpted, confident and when he opens one green eye and arches that perfect eyebrow, Gibbs steps over the shorts on the floor and drops the rest of Tony's clothes, tearing at his own in his haste to join his lover.
After the month they've had, it should be hard and fast and brutal when they come together, but instead it's achingly sweet and tender and Gibbs hasn't felt this urge to cherish and protect, to bury himself in another person and hold them safe forever, hasn't felt this cherished and protected and loved since... Since Shannon died. Since he lost his first wife and their beautiful daughter. He's forgotten how overwhelming these feelings are and when they're finished he wraps Tony in his arms and buries his face in Tony's neck and holds him close for what seems like hours. Tony strokes his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders and in the end holds him back until Gibbs can breathe again.
'You okay?' he asks softly, voice edged with concern.
Gibbs nods, clears his throat. 'Been a hell of a month,' he says roughly.
Tony grimaces. 'Don't want to go through that again, that's for sure.' He pauses, then takes a breath and says, 'I missed you.'
Gibbs doesn't make the expected joke about Tony needing to work on his aim. 'I missed you too,' slips past his teeth and he hears himself following up with, 'Stay. Here. Make this your home.'
Tony eyes him for a long few moments. 'You're my home, Jethro. You have been ever since you dragged me out of Baltimore.'
'Then make it official,' Gibbs says quietly. 'I don't ever want another month where the only damn time I see you is at your desk at work. I'm too old and too selfish and I want you here every night because if you aren't in my bed, in our bed, I can't sleep.'
'How official?' Tony asks. His voice is just as quiet, lightly curious, but Gibbs hears the absolute seriousness beneath. This means more to Tony than he'll ever willingly let on and Gibbs has a sudden rush of vertigo, as though he's standing at the edge of a cliff and the wrong answer will send him plunging over. His breath catches as he remembers the ruling that came down just a month ago.
'All the way,' he says.
Tony's eyes go wide, the vulnerability he keeps so well hidden spilling out. 'What?'
'There's a three day waiting period, but we can go down and file the paperwork tomorrow,' Gibbs says. He doesn't want to admit to feeling vulnerable himself, but something shows because Tony rolls him over and kisses him until Gibbs can barely tell where he ends and Tony begins. 'Is that a yes?' Gibbs asks, hours later, arms wrapped around the younger man, his chest pressed to Tony's broad back and their legs tangled together.
'Yes,' Tony mumbles and falls into sleep. Gibbs falls after him and sleeps better than he has in thirty long, lonely nights.
In the morning they go to the courthouse, fill out the paperwork and hand over the fee. In return, they are handed their marriage license. They head back out into May sunshine and amble down to a wedding chapel a couple of blocks away where a quick enquiry confirms they can be fitted in for a basic service plus wedding video after the three days are up.
'You need to bring your witnesses in here first to sign the paperwork,' the clerk explains, tapping a form with her pen.
Tony and Gibbs exchange glances, then Tony smiles his most charming smile. 'Can you provide witnesses?'
The clerk shrugs. 'Sure. I'll make a note.'
It's all arranged so the only thing left to do is start their honeymoon early. Well, that and stock up on groceries and do some of the laundry that's piled up over the last month. They return home with the shopping to find Fornell waiting in the living room wanting to discuss a case.
'I'm on leave,' Gibbs says drily. 'Any particular reason this couldn't wait?'
Fornell eyes Tony curiously. 'I didn't know you spent your leave with DiNozzo.'
Tony pastes on an insincere smile. 'My car crapped out and Gibbs picked me up from the garage on his way past. It'd be impolite not to come in for a coffee.'
Gibbs scowls, but makes coffee and awkward small talk until Tony goes down to the basement and flicks on the ancient television so that Fornell can discuss the case and get the hell out. When he's gone, he joins Tony in the basement.
'We're getting a hotel room,' Tony says firmly. 'I'm not having Fornell or anyone else walk in on my damn honeymoon.'
'Okay.'
They spend the rest of the week at a nice place that has a small gym and an indoor pool. The only time Tony gets to use the pool, Gibbs watches him for twenty minutes, then hauls him out and back up to the room where he points out just how indecent those speedos are and how much he'd appreciate Tony only ever wearing them for him and not for the rest of the world to see. Tony laughs, breathless and wet and lets Gibbs strip him off and push him into the shower and proceeds to show just how much he enjoys the water.
The service is short but it means more than all of Gibbs' last three weddings put together and he knows Tony can tell. They walk out of the chapel hand in hand and go back to their hotel room. They're married.
They're lying in a sweaty, tangled heap on the bed, clothes in a rumpled pile somewhere on the beige hotel room carpet. Gibbs grins suddenly, a bright smile that shows his teeth with just a hint of the predator showing through.
'Abby's going to be pissed,' he says, his voice that shade of low and raspy that always gets Tony's libido stirring.
Tony ignores the valiant way certain parts of his anatomy are trying desperately to rise to the occasion and settles for dropping a kiss on the older man's cheek. 'I wonder how long it'll take her to figure it out.'
'I don't know,' Gibbs says thoughtfully, absently running a callused palm up and down Tony's thigh. 'It's been close to two years now and she hasn't worked out we're more than colleagues.'
'We've always been more than colleagues,' Tony protests, but Gibbs tuts away his objection. 'Okay, who do you think's going to work it out first, then?' he asks, genuinely curious. 'Ziva? Ducky?'
Gibbs shakes his head. 'McGee.'
Tony laughs, incredulous. 'Oh, come on! He wouldn't figure it out if we sent him an email spelling it out with our wedding video attached!'
'Want to bet?' Gibbs' tone is silky, dangerous. He's far too confident.
'No dropping hints!' Tony admonishes. 'Not that you would, but... Okay, ten bucks says it's Abby, and another ten says it's within six months.'
Gibbs shakes his head. 'McGee, inside five. And make it twenty for figuring out you're married and another for who to.'
'What, you don't think he'll figure it out from you? I'm great at keeping secrets. The best. My undercover work is why you hired me, remember?' Tony waggles his eyebrows and leers comically.
Gibbs raises an eyebrow. 'Last I checked, we hadn't made it under the covers, Tony. Now, you taking that bet, or are you chickening out?'
Tony laughs. 'Oh, you are so on! I'm going to really enjoy that forty bucks.'
Gibbs slides his hand down to the back of Tony's knee and pulls his leg up and over his own. 'I can think of a few other things I'm going to enjoy in the meantime.' He dips his head and kisses Tony and a couple of seconds later, the bet is all but forgotten.