Tony DiNozzo glared at his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. His green eyes glittered with an undeniable hardness and his lips were pressed tightly together. He was dressed in a old pair of faded jeans with a navy blue t-shirt as he put the last of his belongings into the old leather bag and pondered his reasons for packing.
It was bad enough that they had forgotten his birthday, but when everyone let his anniversary with N.C.I.S. go past without even one acknowledgement - that had hurt. Then going in for his physical and receiving news that his past history with the plague was coming back to haunt him. Well, it was then that he decided it was past time to move on.
He stared at the bag that was older then he for a long time. It was the same one he had brought with him when he had moved from Baltimore to Washington D.C. to become an agent for N.C.I.S.
He glanced around the bedroom, the rumpled sheets on his unmade bed, the closet filled with Prada, Gucci, and Zegna. He was planning to start over, reinvent himself.
Pushing aside his suits, he dialed the combination that opened his hidden safe and retrieved every last cent he possessed along with a manila envelope. The one that had been sitting there for over a year. He opened it letting the, driver’s license, credit cards, and passport drop to the dresser top. He opened the passport to check the picture and a slip of paper drifted to the floor. He looked at the name listed under his picture. Alexander Anthony Mundy, II. The kicker was - that was his real name.
Tony chuckled to himself. He remember the talk he'd had with his father as if it were yesterday. A conversation he'd never told anyone about.
"Son. There is something I need to tell you." Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. sat back in the rich leather chair and sipped on his glass of Bombay Sapphire.
"And what could that possibly be, Dad?" Tony asked sarcastically.
"Our name is not really DiNozzo."
"Yeah. I was born Alexander Mundy. Your real name is Alexander Mundy, Jr."
Alexander Mundy, Jr! Tony face twisted in a case of slight revulsion. What was his father playing at, he wasn't looking him in the eye.
"The reason I had such a hard time accepting your decision to become a cop is..." Sr. took a gulp of courage from his glass. "You're from a long line of...thieves."
Tony sat down hard and listened as his father continued confessing. He had always known, more or less, that his dad was somewhat of a con man; it still came as a shock to learn that his dad had been a professional thief, that he’d served time in San Jobel prison before being recruited to work for the U. S. Government agency, the SIA.
With a sigh, he withdrew a small back-up gun that he slipped into the ankle holster, tightened the laces on his tennis shoes, slipped on the leather jacket that he’d worn when he applied for his job and walked out of his life, leaving everything and everyone behind.
Gibbs rounded the corner heading toward his desk, his ever present container of coffee in his hand. He glanced around noting that Ziva and McGee were already at their desk and working.
McGee glanced up toward Ziva then back at Gibbs. “I think he’s due back tomorrow.”
Ziva nodded her agreement. “Yes. He has been on his yearly retreat with his fat brothers.”
“That’s frat as in fraternity.” McGee corrected.
Gibbs frowned. “It's that time of year again?”
"Afraid so," McGee confirmed.
Gibbs shook his head and smirked.
"Jethro, Jethro!" Ducky, his voice carried a great deal of agitation as he rounded the corner waving a folder.
At the same time Director Vance dropped a pile of folders on his desk.
"What's this?" Gibbs asked Vance irritably. His attention, however, was on Ducky.
"Applications for DiNozzo's replacement."
"What the hell are you talking about," Gibbs growled, his head snapped toward Vance.
"Agent DiNozzo turned in his resignation three weeks ago," Vance said patiently. "He requested that I wait until now to ... you did know about this, didn't you?"
Gibbs looked at the rest of his team. They seemed just as shock as he was.
Ducky on the other hand was exasperated. "Take a look at this."
"What the heck does it say?" Gibbs asked, squinting as he tried to make heads or tails of what the paper Ducky had thrust into his hands.
"The Y-pestis is back," Ducky choked. "Tony's got the plague - again."
You could hear a pin drop.
Ziva was shaking her head violently. "No, that is not possible. I would know!"
"Boss, he's not answering his phone," McGee said as he hung up his phone.
"Ziva, you're with me." Gibbs was out of his chair in an instant. Ziva nodded and grabbed her bag. "McGee..."
"Check with his frat buddies and local hospitals. I'm on it, Boss," McGee finished, already reaching for his phone.
"Just where do you think you going?" Vance called out before Gibbs could round the corner, heading toward the elevator with Ziva in close pursuit.
Gibbs paused to growl, "To find my agent."
"He's not your agent anymore. He resigned." Vance reminded him.
Gibbs walked all the way to where Vance stood and got up into his personal space. Staring him in the eye in the way that intimidated everyone. "He's mine until I say otherwise."
Vance did what anyone with sense would. He backed down.
McGee watched all this with trepidation as he dialed yet another number. Only when he found himself alone did he think to ask. "Has anyone told Abby?"
Relief flooded through both of the Special Agents after finding Tony's car parked in its usual spot. Gibbs and Ziva strolled down the hall to his apartment sure that they would find him there. Ziva stepped aside, automatically checking the hallway in both directions as Gibbs knocked on the door.
After a few minutes of silence and no response, Ziva called out, "Tony, its me."
Gibbs grew irritated, Tony had to be there. He pulled out his lock-pick, making quick work of the door. Pushing the door open, he snapped. "DiNozzo, you had better have a really good reason for not answering your fucking door."
"Tony," Ziva called out and headed directly for his bedroom. "Gibbs!" she called. "He's not here."
Gibbs had gone into the kitchen. A coffee machine was plugged in and judging by the smell, had been sitting there for awhile. "Maybe he went to get some groceries."
"Not without this," Ziva pointed out. On the dresser lay Tony's wallet. Just then the knob on Tony's door turned. Both Ziva and Gibbs had automatically pulled their weapons. Stealthfully they moved toward the living area to confront a mature lady of about forty carrying several boxes. She promptly dropped them and screamed.
Gibbs lowered his gun and pulled out his id. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, NCIS."
"I don't care who you are. Just what the hell are you doing in my apartment?" She demanded. Hands on hips, she looked menacing.
Ziva and Gibbs exchanged looks.
"Your apartment? This apartment belongs to Tony DiNozzo," Ziva informed her.
"Not anymore. According to the landlady, he paid a month's rent in advance and just disappeared. Left all his stuff. I haven't even had a chance to clear it all out."
Gibbs' phone rang and he walked off a short distance to answer it. "Gibbs."
"Boss, is Tony okay? I checked with Tony's frat brothers and none of them have heard from him in months," McGee sounded agitated. "I checked all the local hospitals, just in case, and nada."
Gibbs rubbed his forehead. "He's not here."
Tony unhooked his helmet as he straddled the big black Harley Fat Boy. His second hand boots knocked that kick-stand in place. Only then did he remove his helmet, revealing a scruffy face. Tony winced as he as he dragged his foot over the seat to stand facing his old alumni. Rhode Island Military Academy. The place his parents had sent him to when he was a teenager.
He rubbed his hand across his whiskered chin as he stared at the Greek Revival house that served as the main building and housed the headmaster's office. Now that he was here he was nervous and wondered if perhaps he should have stopped somewhere and cleaned up a bit.
Three weeks on the road traveling around the country on a motorcycle that he'd long had in storage had given him a lot of time for reflection. Most of his adult life had been transitory, a few years at this job, a few more at that one, until he'd met Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Somehow they'd connected. Here it was twelve years later and he'd never had the nerve to tell Gibbs just how he felt and he never would. Just recently he had come to realize that he was lonely and had contemplated telling Gibbs, now it was too late.
Ever since he'd found out that the plague was back, he'd known that his friendships would have to be cut off. That he would have to move on. Start a new life. What was left of it. It would have been too painful otherwise.
With a heavy heart, Tony walked into the building. Opening the double doors, he ignored the loud noises made in the hallways. He stopped at the Headmaster's door, took a deep breath and knocked.
Straightening his shoulders, he opened the door and entered. The man standing at the window, his back to Tony, was wider and his hair grayer then the man he remembered.
Noah Bain turned around. "At ease, Mr. Mundy."
Tony, who had automatically gone into the military attention stance, relaxed. "I see you got my letter."
"Yes." He pointed at the letter on his desk as he sat behind it. "Are you sure you're up to the job?"
Tony shrugged. "I'm not really sure of anything. I just know I can't sit around and wait to..."
"Die?" Bain stared hard at Tony, then stood up and held out one hand. "Welcome to the staff, Coach Mundy."
"McGee! What've you got?"
McGee was irritated. Weeks had passed and he'd done everything in his power. Every moment he could spare he spent searching for his missing team mate. He contacted hospitals. Checked cell phone records, bank records, credit cards and gotten nothing. Nada, zilch, nothing. It was as if Tony DiNozzo had dropped off the face of the earth. One thing was certain, it appeared that Tony was a hell of a lot more computer savvy then Tim had given him credit for.
Every time he had to tell Gibbs that he had nothing, something inside of him shriveled up. Gibbs was by far the grouchiest that McGee could remember in a long time. Ziva was less outgoing, less friendly. Abby was downright depressed, and he wasn't far behind her on that score.
"Damn it, McGee. You're letting me down here."
Tony stood on the side of the basketball court and ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his jaw feeling the scratchiness of his beard. Players filled the court. There were some damn good ones, and a few not so good. Some were klutzes, couldn't dribble to save their souls and thanks to Noah he had his pick of the lot.
Six players were all he needed, but he thought he'd go with seven, just in case. He looked at the clipboard he held in his hand. He had excelled at sports, though it wasn't what he had wanted to do. He looked over the players once again. Noting the good ones. There underneath the basket were two tall, well coordinated players playing keep-away with one of the shorter ones. Tony couldn't help but frown as he noted how they were laughing and jeering at the kid, whose face was turning a bright red. In various spots on the court there were other players picking on the ones who were not as good. It was something he himself had done a lifetime ago. And right now, it seemed wrong.
A shrill whistle filled the air, followed by a loud yell. "Hit the showers."
Head Coach Butch Stanford swaggered over. It was obvious that the stocky bald-headed head coach had not been happy with Tony's hiring nor the arrangement Dean Bain had made with him. "Ya got your picks yet?"
Tony looked down at his clipboard, then followed the players as they filed into the locker-room. "Yep. I think I have."
Another month has passed and further investigation into Tony's whereabouts has been put on a backburner. Current cases are taking up a lot of time, so everyone is doing what they can when they can. It has taken longer to work them, because there was no Tony with his flashes of insight to help. Gibbs, with the rest of the teams approval, had put off getting someone to replace him, over the objections of Vance.
At the moment they are all involved in a current case when in walked Anthony DiNozzo Sr., as if he owned the place, and everyone stopped whatever they're doing.
Senior looked around the squad room, his gaze finally resting on his favorite agent, Ziva David. "Where's Junior?" he asked with a cheery smile.
"You do not know?" Ziva queried, her eyes shifting across the room to Tim, who was already on the phone.
"Know what?" Tony's father asked perplexed.
"Tony resigned," Ziva informed him as various members of the team converged around her desk.
Anthony Sr. laughed. "You're joking. Pulling my leg." Then he noted the serious expression on Ziva's face. "That's crazy. Tony loves working here. Why would he quit?"
By that time Ducky had arrived along with Palmer, Abby and Gibbs.
"Are you telling me you didn't know that the plague was back?" Gibbs demanded.
"The plague!" Senior's face went pale, and he looked about to pass out. He and Tony didn't stay in touch much, but surely for something like that Tony would have told him. Ducky pulled Tony's chair over and Senior dropped in it. "Where is he?"
"We were hoping you could tell us," Ducky answered gently.
Senior was up in an instance and in Gibbs' face. "You lost my son?" he snarled.
"No I didn't lose your son," Gibbs barked right back at him. "But I do want to find him."
Nobody noticed as Palmer slowly backed away.
Palmer found himself a quiet space and pulled out his hidden cell phone. He hit the speed dial. "Tony," he hissed.
Tony patted around his bed side table and found his cell phone by touch. "Wha? Palmer? What did I tell you about calling me. You're supposed to wait for my call." He looks at his watch on his nightstand. It was eight-thirty. He hadn't been feeling well lately.
"Your dad's here!" Palmer said frantically, perhaps a bit too loud.
"He's not the only one," Ziva spoke loudly enough to be heard from behind him as she took the cell phone away.
"Oh shit," Tony cursed. He hurriedly opened the back of his phone and removed the battery, then smashed it. It wouldn't stop someone with McGee's abilities for long. He was going to have to come up with a new plan.
Two minutes until the end of the game and the noise of the crowd almost drowned out his instructions. Eight hands clasped, then raised what a whoop, that sounded a lot like hu-ra and six players raced to the court.
The tallest took his place center court and faced off with his opponent. The umpire tossed the basketball into the air and two boys jumped. Tony watched closely as everything went off like clockwork. The ball aimed at the shortest player was caught. Pivoting on one foot, he turned facing the goal and sent the ball flying. The ball hit the backboard then skimming around the rim of the basket before falling into the hoop one second before the blare of the closing horn. Shouts of disbelief sounded in the auditorium as the Misfits won by one point.
The entire team ran to their coach, jumping and yelling in excitement. Their methods may have been unorthodox, but you couldn't question the results. Tony was proud. It was the last game of the season and his boys had come out on top. He sighed as the boys trooped out and looked around the auditorium. He hefted his packed bag, he'd known he should have left the moment he'd hung up the phone, but couldn't bring himself to let down his team of players.
He turned around and ran smack dab into Leroy Jethro Gibbs. There backing him up were Timothy - looking sympathetic, which Tony hated, Abby- clinging tightly to Tim, Ziva - looking pissed, Palmer - looking miserable, which well he should, and last but not least Ducky.
"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"Umm, what are you doing here?" Tony barely bit off calling him Boss.
Gibbs moved closer until they were almost nose to nose. "I've come to take you home," he said softly.
Tony shook his head turning it away. There was no point in going back. He'd been feeling his life drain away for days now.
Ducky stepped up next to Gibbs. "Tony, I've been doing research and I think I'm on to something. But we need you back in Washington D.C. to be sure."
Hope swelled up in Tony. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You beat this think once, Tony. You can do it again," McGee declared, giving Tony's shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"And what if I don't?" Tony snapped.
Palmer finally spoke up. "We've been talking about that. If, just if, mind you, wouldn't you rather be surrounded by family?"
Abby's arms slipped around him and she whispered into his ear, "Please."
Tony didn't have the strength to say no. In fact he didn't have any strength at all. His eyes rolled back in his head and his world went black.
The first thing he heard when he opened his eyes was Abby shrieking happily and nearly breaking his eardrum. "He's awake!"
"It's about time." He heard Gibbs voice grumpily.
"Now, Jethro," Ducky tried to appease Gibbs. "Abby, could you please move for a moment?"
Tony was lying flat on his back, there was a slight swaying motion going on. It was making him nauseous. He appeared to be in some type of vehicle. All he could really see was the ceiling. An ambulance? Suddenly a bump was hit, making the vehicle rock and Tony groaned.
"Palmer!" Ducky shouted.
"Sorry, it's this road," Palmer called back.
"Wha...wher?" Tony tried to ask and get up at the same time, only to find himself strapped down. The back of his hand stung and he looked at it, only to find a needle sticking in it. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall the last thing he remembered.
The game. They'd won. Being proud and a little sad. He was leaving before Gibbs found him. Gibbs! Tony looked around the vehicle and sure enough there was Gibbs. He did not look happy. Ducky moved just then blocking Tony's view. He closed his eyes and listened. Palmer and McGee talking softly, he couldn't make out the words.
"Is he okay?" Ziva's accented voice asked softly.
"Aside from a significant bit of weight loss, the lab results were promising or I would not have allowed his being transported."
"Then why is he still unconscious," Gibbs demanded. "It's been over twenty-four hours."
"I imagine all of us showing up was a bit of a shock to his system. Isn't that right, Anthony? Or should I call you Alexander?" Ducky asked.
Tony opened his eyes and smiled. There was no fooling Ducky. Just then the ambulance swerved again and Ducky was thrown off balance and onto Gibbs' lap.
"Palmer!" Ducky complained.
"Sorry. Dog in the road."
"Always an excuse," Ducky muttered as he crawled to an empty seat and strapped himself in.
Gibbs leaned forward. "Why did you run away?"
Tony turned his head away not wanting to answer.
Ziva took a deep breath. "I imagine he did not wish us to watch as he wasted away."
"Ziva! Do you have to be so blunt?" McGee roared angrily before anyone else could.
Tony wanted to deny her accusations, but he couldn't. He sighed heavily. "It's alright, Probie. She's right."
"Of, course I am," Ziva agree and took a deep breath. "That is why once we get back to DC I am turning in my resignation." There were tears in her eyes. "It is something I cannot bare."
"But it's not going to happen," Abby insisted. She turned a trusting gaze to the eldest and most trustworthy man in their group. "Right, Ducky?"
Ducky reached over covering Abby's twisting hands with his own. He didn't want to lie to the child. For though she was no longer the young girl who had started NCIS all those years ago, she still, along with Timothy, held a special spot in his heart. "We will do our best."
Abby smiled brightly. Ducky's best was all the assurance she needed.
McGee exchanged looks with Palmer, both knowing that the out come was not the slam dunk that Abby was hoping for.
Gibbs leaned over to grab hold of Tony's hand gripping it tightly as he growled lowly into Tony's ear so no one else could hear. "I gave you an order once before and it's still in effect."
Tony turned his head, looked Gibbs directly in the eye, swallowed, then nodded.
Gibbs smile, leaned closer and brought his lip to Tony's. He used his tongue to swipe over Tony's lips before backing off.
Tony's eyes widened, he looked around and noticed nothing but smiles. Hell, even Ziva was smiling at him.
Six months later, half a year, Tony smiled happily as he walked from the elevator. It was nice to feel the weight of his gun beneath his coat. He was back in the saddle again.
He rounded the corner and paused. His desk was currently occupied, while Ziva's remained empty. Ziva had stuck to her guns and left two weeks after turning in her resignation, that had been five months ago. McGee was sitting at Tony's desk, in the hope that Ziva would change her mind and return.
"You're late," Gibbs growled.
"Sorry, Boss. I had to re-qualify." He patted his jacket over his gun.
Tony didn't take it personally. Gibbs was just keeping up appearances.
A hell of a lot had happened in the six short months since Tony arrived at Gibbs' home. In spite of his protestations, he found himself installed in the largest bedroom in the house. Gibbs' bedroom. Before he could say anything he found himself settled in Gibbs' bed. Ducky immediately began pulling medical equipment from his little black bag while McGee, with a little help from Gibbs, unpacked Tony's meager luggage. Tony had argued that he'd be happy staying in the quest bedroom, after all he had done it before.
He was quickly over-ruled by just about everybody. It seemed that, without consulting him in any way, they had decided that the spare room would be occupied with one of them, just in case help was needed. They had already set up a rotating schedule.
Abby headed downstairs to meet up with Ziva with the intention on putting together a healthy meal for all of them. One glance into the cupboards and refrigerator convinced her that that was not about to happen. The only viable solution was a package of spaghetti and a bottle of Ragu.
"Ragu," She shook her head sadly. "Tell me there is something green in the fridge."
Ziva pulled her head out of the refrigerator. "Just a six pack of beer and this." She held up a rotting head of lettuce.
Abby squelched her nose in distaste. "Toss it. I guess we're stuck with Ragu."
The two worked in companionable silence, Ziva drawing water for boiling the spaghetti, Abby doctoring the sauce to make it more palatable. Abby chewed on her lower lip, surreptitiously watching Ziva place the pasta in the pot.
"You not really leaving, are you?" Ziva asked quietly.
Ziva stilled unable to look at her. "I must. I can not stay and watch..."
"Tony is not going to die!" Abby slammed her spoon down childishly, splattering the sauce everywhere.
"You can not know that." Ziva glared.
"Yes, I can." Abby threw back with equal determination.
"Abby." Ziva paused, she didn't want to burst Abby's bubble. "I can't stay ... because Tony is in love with Gibbs, he always has been, and right now I think Gibbs loves Tony back."
"Oh," Abby looked sympathetic. She reached over and gave her friend a warm hug and Ziva melted into the embrace.
Another pair of arms joined them. "Why are we hugging?" asked McGee.
Abby wiped her eyes and giggled. "No reason."
"Why are you here?" asked Ziva once again under control.
McGee shrugged. "It seemed a little crowded upstairs. What's for supper?"
"Spaghetti," Ziva pointed out.
"I'm not sure Ducky will let Tony eat that," McGee said doubtfully.
"You are probably right. I believe there is some soup in the cupboard," Ziva agreed. "I will fix that."
Tony only found all this out later, when one night long after Ziva was gone and Abby, with tears in her eyes, was feeling glum.
All he really remembered of that night was being undressed, poked and prodded, and eventually put to bed. Being so tired that he knew his time was short. He remembered being spoon feed soup.
That first week everyone had treated him like the invalid he was. Tip-toeing around. Sponge bathing him, hand-feeding him. Pitying him.
The second week was totally different. Doctor Brad Pitt had magically shown up. Later Tony learned that Ducky was responsible. After his visit Gibbs blew up.
"You heard the doc. Tony's eating habits over the past year hasn't been very good. That's it. No more coddling Tony. If he wants to eat he can come down and eat with everyone else. Lying in bed all day is no longer an option." Then he'd summarily thrown everyone out of the house.
Tony had expected to be moved into the guest room, but that wasn't to be the case. It had been hard. Waking up and forced into the shower, a hand towel thrust into his hand. Bare hands were soaped and run over his body, hands holding him up, forcing it to stay still and demanding that he do his share. Warm water, rough hands, gentle lips, bringing him back to life. Even when he was strong enough to bath on his own, Gibbs was always there and showers took on a whole new meaning.
Eating was something else. Gibbs was not a very good cook, his larder proved that. But Abby remedied that problem, first she would show up once a day with fresh food for them, then once every few days, until finally once every week or so. As he got stronger, he joined Abby on her shopping trips and eventually took over the cooking as well.
Dr. Pitt showed up once a week to check up on Tony, and that was when he found out that Brad had been doing research on Y-Pestis ever since Tony first came down with it. There was a vaccine available, it was more of a preventative, and he felt that it was not a permanent cure. It was his opinion that a healthy diet might make a world of difference. He had a list of recommended foods and an even bigger one of those not recommended.
The first month was brutal. Tony was weak and nauseous for most of it. After the first month, things began settling down and Tony was able to do more so Dr. Pitt okayed him for light exercise. Around the third month that okay included moderate workouts and things got tougher. Gibbs was a hard taskmaster, for once Tony was just as glad that Ziva wasn't around because she would have been even worse.
Eating healthier had a good affect on him, not only was he looking better, he had more energy and so did Gibbs. Gibbs spent a lot less time in the basement and a lot more time in the bedroom, and the living room, and the kitchen.
Tony quickly came to the conclusion that he had much to learn from Gibbs - about sex. This surprised him since he considered himself somewhat of an expert in the art of making love. From that first night in the shower when Gibbs had merely jerked him off, leaving him drowsy and thoroughly sated, to when they had more privacy and the kitchen became part of Gibbs' playground, with Tony ending up cooking in his underwear. Tony began to wonder if Gibbs had saved all his pent up sexual desires just for him. He certainly knew just where to touch, lick, suck.
Eventually fun and games were over. Gibbs and the rest had to return to their jobs. Oh, Abby and Ducky still showed up regularly. McGee, in particular, somehow managed to find time to drop in when Gibbs had to be out in the field. He brought with him his computer and when he wasn't looking into information for Gibbs, they played games and watched movies.
Sometime around the fourth month after Tony's return, McGee noticed a change in Tony. By then Tony actually began to believe that he wasn't going to die - at least not any time soon. That being the case he began to wonder where he was going to live. He couldn't very well impose on Gibbs. Just because they were lovers did not mean that Gibbs would want to make this permanent. He had to think about what he was going to do with his life.
When Tony passed up three chances to kill his character, McGee asked, "What's wrong, Tony?"
"Come on, I know better. You can tell me."
Tony leaned back on the sofa and sighed heavily as he tossed his controller down on the coffee table. He looked at McGee and thought 'What the hell?' "Look around us and what do you see?"
McGee actually opened his eyes wide and really looked around. The place was kind of drab. The furniture, what there was of it, old except for the flat screen TV that Gibbs had recently bought. It was not exactly the type of place he thought Tony, who liked the finer things in life, would live. "Maybe you could talk Gibbs into sprucing the place up?"
"Yeah, like that's going to happen." Tony shook his head. "Maybe it's time I moved on."
"Is that what you really want? To move on?"
The softly spoken question, out of the blue, caused both men to jump. They both turned, spotting Gibbs removing his jacket before stepping in the room.
McGee looked from one man to the other and quietly slipped off the couch. "I think I'll go now." Then to himself. "Yeah, I need to leave." Before slipping out the room.
"You thinking of leaving?" Gibbs asked as he tossed his jacket on the coffee table.
Tony stood and cleared his throat nervously. "Well, I'm getting better and there's no need..."
Gibbs move in until he and Tony were nose to nose, then he reached around and smacked Tony on the back of his head.
"Oww, what did you do that for?" Tony stepped back and rubbed the back of his head.
Gibbs moved closer. gripping Tony's hips and bringing their groins together. "Because Anthony DiNozzo or Alexander Mundy, Jr. whatever your name is, you are an idiot. I didn't bring you here just because you were sick."
"Nah." Gibbs brought their lips together. The kiss started small then grew deeper. When the two finally pulled away Gibbs looked Tony in the eye. "I've been thinking that it's time to do a few things around here. Maybe fix up the kitchen, redo the bath. Could use a little help. You do know that your furniture is in storage? You can replace anything you want here." He nodded his head to take in the room, then gave an abrupt snort. "Though I don't think we'll be using that single bed of yours. And Ducky says you should be ready to come back to work in another week or so. Tony, you're back home where you belong. There is no more moving on."
Wrapped in Gibbs' arms Tony had to agree.