Tony didn’t move when he heard a key in his apartment door. “I called in sick, boss,” he said. “Sent my e-mail by seven AM, and everything.”
“Yeah, you did,” Gibbs agreed.
“So, I guess you know what today is, huh?”
“Yep,” said Gibbs. This year, the anniversary of Tony’s mother’s death had snuck up on them both. “Scoot over.”
Later, Tony knew, as he made room on the couch, Gibbs would make them hot chocolate from scratch, and listen to the few memories Tony could bring himself to share. But for now, he was here and that was enough.