That Christmas Time of the Year A NCIS Fanfiction By Ryann Blackwood

Chapter 1 ................................................................................................................ 3 Chapter 2 .............................................................................................................. 11 Chapter 3 .............................................................................................................. 19 Chapter 4 .............................................................................................................. 27 Chapter 5 .............................................................................................................. 37

That Christmas Time of the Year

Ryann Blackwood

Chapter 1 Tony loved D.C. during the holidays. The city dressed itself, bright red bows hanging from lampposts, wreaths displayed in many of the store windows, a Menorah positioned on the counter of his favorite deli. No matter what the holiday or celebration, he loved the excitement. Granted his own memories of this time of year weren’t exactly rosy. His family could make Edward Scissorhands look like a regular Greg Brady, and he’d had more than one girlfriend dump him on Christmas Eve, which taught him to always keep gift receipts. But, there was just something promising about the season, even if Santa didn’t shop Marine. He walked in Friday morning to a quiet office, his iPod playing Brenda Lee and Johnny Mathias. Despite the water-cooler gossip, Tony liked to be one of the first in at the start of a new day. On his desk was a pile of letters from the mail room. Tossing off his scarf, he flipped through the letters, stopping at a red envelope. Tony’s eyebrows jumped when he saw the return address. Stillwater, Pennsylvania. He grinned as he opened the envelope, pulling out a simple Christmas card. Inside was a message scrawled out by Jackson Gibbs. Tony, How are you, boy? Hope my son’s not giving you too much hell. Figured it was only right to invite you to Christmas. Nothing fancy, of course. Pack a bag and come on up. See you in a few. Jack Tony stared at the message, his grin widening. “Oh, this is too sweet.” “What is sweet?” Ziva asked, making him jump. Giving her a look, he shoved the Christmas card under the stack of letters. “You know that it’s rude to sneak up on people, right?” Ziva just smirked, unbuttoning her coat. “Perhaps if you paid more attention to your surroundings, I could not sneak up on you. Besides, Gibbs does it all the time.” “Well, that’s Gibbs.” Tony couldn’t help glancing down at the pile of letters again. “What is it?” Ziva asked, making her way over to his desk. “Nothing.” He shrugged, trying not to acknowledge the red envelope. She squinted, staring at him until he couldn’t help but to glance away. “Aha!” She pointed a triumphant finger at him. “You are hiding something.” “I am not!” “You look away when you are guilty,” she said smugly, tapping her forehead. “I have seen this about you many times, and a camel never forgets.” Tony couldn’t help his superior grin. “An elephant, Ziva. An elephant never forgets.” She frowned. “How do you know? Perhaps camels do not forget either.” “No, elephants don’t forget. Camels are just camels.” She crossed her arms. “Really? And what is so special about elephants? I think camels are very majestic.”

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“I like camels too,” McGee added, walking to his desk. He stopped. “Why are we talking about camels again?” “Tony is hiding something,” Ziva announced, smiling at him. McGee blinked, looking between them. “What does that have to do with camels?” Ziva blew out an annoyed breath, pointing at Tony. It was Tony’s turn to grin. “He was acting sneaky about something. When I questioned him about it, I said that camels do not forget.” “Elephants don’t forget,” McGee corrected, which made Tony laugh. Ziva’s jaw clenched, and she threw her hands in the air. “Camels, elephants! Does it really matter?” “Well, actually?” Tony started. “The point is,” she continued, crossing her arms, “Tony is hiding something.” “Is that right, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, stepping off the elevator, startling his three agents. Ziva and McGee quickly returned to their desks, making Gibbs’ lips quirk up in a barely there smile. “You hiding something from us?” Tony smirked at Ziva before putting on an innocent expression. “Of course not, Boss. Wouldn’t think of it.” Gibbs clearly didn’t believe him but just took a sip of his coffee and sat at his desk. Tony tried not to interpret the look Gibbs gave him as affectionate. Sometimes there was just this look Gibbs gave him, half exasperation and half something else. Tony liked to imagine the meaning of that other half had something to do with him on his back, or him on his knees, or him on his stomach, but with Gibbs he never knew. Head slaps were so much easier to interpret. Before Tony could look at the Christmas card again, Gibbs stood up, grabbing his gun out of his desk drawer. “We have a dead Marine gunned down at a shopping mall.” He headed for the elevator, his team scrambling to grab their things. “Let’s go!” he barked.

Tony decided that a mall was the worst place ever to die. When they arrived on scene, the local leos had the area mostly secure, except for the two or three hundred people watching behind the police tape and from the upper level railings. Ziva glanced up from behind her camera at the crowds of onlookers. “Do they not have shopping to do?” “Human nature, Ziva,” Tony said, bagging the Marine’s recent purchases: a red slip from Victoria’s Secret, two baseball gloves, an alarm clock radio, and a green plaid sweater. “People can’t look away from a car crash.” “This is not a car accident; it is murder.” “Same difference, unfortunately.” He marked the bags, hoping that Abby could find a way to identify the attacker. Gibbs approached them with a mall security guard. “Anything?” he asked, kneeling next to the Marine. 4

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Tony finished marking the last evidence bag. “Sorry, Boss. Looks like whoever shot our Marine didn’t leave much behind.” “It was an execution,” Gibbs said, jaw taut. He looked up at the security guard. “Your cameras catch this?” “Maybe.” When Gibbs gave a dark look, the man swallowed. “We’ve had to reposition a few of the cameras for the holiday activity.” “Exactly what type of activity?” Gibbs asked. “A Marine was just gunned down in front of several hundred people. You’re telling me you don’t have one damn witness?” “No, no,” the guard stuttered. “We have a few witnesses.” He handed Gibbs a small notebook. “The cameras were repositioned due to the kids. We always get a lot of sickos hanging around.” The man waved his hand at a display behind them. A gigantic recreation of the North Pole was set-up, complete with Santa’s workshop. In the center of display was a red and gold velvet chair with a portly, white-bearded man watching them behind a set of spectacles. Next to him was Mrs. Claus, who looked old enough to be his granddaughter in a short red velvet mini. Two elves in green tights and jingling booties tried to keep the crying kids at bay. Tony gave Ziva a naughty grin. “Feel like sitting on Santa’s lap, Officer David?” She pointed a finger in his face. “Do not tempt me to hurt you before your Christmas holiday.” “Maybe Tony wants to sit on Santa’s lap.” McGee grinned, hefting an evidence case over his shoulder. Tony gave a mock laugh and then pointed at one of the elves. “Quick, Probie, reunite with your elfish brethren!” Before McGee could reply, Gibbs slapped them both on the back of their heads. Just as Ziva started to laugh, Gibbs slapped her too, sending her head bobbing. “Please,” the guard insisted, glancing between them, “you need to wrap this up. Do you know what these parents are like on a good day? They’ve been waiting for over three hours to see Santa.” Gibbs winced when he looked down at the witness list. “Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the two elves.” Tony grinned, giving Mrs. Claus a wink. “I’ll go talk to?” “Old Saint Nick,” Gibbs ordered, watching Tony deflate. “Ziva, you talk to Mrs. Claus. When you’re done there, help McGee with the two elves.” Ziva gave Tony a smug look as she made her way over to greet Santa’s wife. Tony was about to argue when he caught the look Gibbs was giving him. He sighed. “On it, Boss.” It was infuriating at times trying to figure out Gibbs. He’d slap Tony on the back of the head one minute and then cock-block the next. Muttering to himself as he kicked a path through the fake, cotton snow, Tony made his way over to Santa, watching Mrs. Claus giggling with Ziva. When Ziva gave him a triumphant look, he just smiled back, gritting his teeth. “She’s too much work,” Santa said, pulling Tony’s attention away from the women. “Ziva? Well, she is?” 5

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“No,” Santa said. “Kelly. She’s a bit of a princess, if you get my drift.” The old man winked, his belly jiggling as he laughed. Tony stared at him in awe. “That is so freaky.” Santa just patted his stomach. “I’m afraid I don’t get to the gym much, young man. Now, you need to ask me some questions about that poor young soldier? Such a shame, especially at this time of year.” “Yeah, right.” Tony flipped open his notepad. “So, you saw his attacker?” “Medium build, shorter than you, about your weight, had on a Cowboys hat and a green scarf.” “White, black, Asian?” The old man thought. “I’m afraid I don’t recall. He was rather young though. Twenties, maybe.” “You remember how old he was but not his race?” Santa laughed behind his bushy white beard again. “I see many things, my boy, but race is not one of them.” Tony cleared his throat, giving the old man a skeptical look. He always thought someone would have to be crazy to wear one of those rented shopping mall Santa suits. He shivered as he finished taking down the rest of the information. “Anything else you saw?” “Well, I see many things,” the old man continued, his eyes twinkling. “About the murder,” Tony prompted. “Nothing more than what I’ve already told you, I’m afraid.” The old man looked over Tony’s shoulder to stare at Gibbs currently questioning one of the security guards. “Is he always so?” “Intense?” Tony grinned. “Wouldn’t be Gibbs if he wasn’t.” “You admire him very much.” Tony stopped writing and looked up, catching the other man’s blue eyes. “He’s a Marine, so, yeah. He’s also my boss.” Santa nodded, fluffing out the faux, white fur on his coat. “But that isn’t why you admire him.” Tony pointed his pencil at him. “Don’t push me, Nicky. I know people. Rudolph just might have an accident.” The man laughed again, a deep belly laugh that made him jiggle. “Have you ever thought to ask? Maybe you’ll get what you want this year.” Tony was about to snap when he heard McGee calling his name. Indicating for Santa to stay where he was, Tony turned to see McGee in the middle of the two arguing elves. They were clawing at each other, their bells clinging erratically as they exchanged hits. “Break it up, Keebler Elves,” Tony shouted, grabbing the one teenager around the waist and attempting to pull him off as McGee tackled the other one. When they were apart, Tony gave them a stern look. “Do you want to know what they do with elves in

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the big house, huh? Thought not. Answer, McGeek’s questions and be good little Santa’s Helpers.” McGee shot him a frustrated look. “Thanks, Tony.” Tony slapped his shoulder, grinning. “Anytime, Probie.” “DiNozzo!” Gibbs threw an annoyed hand in his direction and Tony turned to find Santa missing. “I thought I told you to interview him.” Tony’s eyes swept the area, but there was no sign of the old man. “I did, Boss. He was right here. You see, Probie, couldn’t handle his elves so?” “DiNozzo.” Intense blue eyes speared into him. “Find the old man. Now.” “On it, Boss.” Tony searched the area around the chair, popped his head into the display workshop, but couldn’t locate the old man. He approached Ziva, who was still chatting with Mrs. Claus. Ziva watched him search, raising an eyebrow. “Lose something, Tony?” He frowned. “You didn’t happen to see a fat, white-bearded man in a red suit, did you?” Mrs. Claus rolled her eyes. “He’s probably over at the cookie counter again. Bert can’t help himself.” She looked at Ziva, utterly bored. “Can I go now? My boyfriend’s supposed to pick me up and my shift’s over.” Ziva nodded, closing her notepad. “Yes. Thank you for your time.” She noticed Tony’s introspective look and smiled, nudging him. “What is that look for?” He shook his head, then laughed at himself. “Cookies, Ziva. You know, Santa loves cookies.” “So?” “So, it’s just weird.” Tony crossed his arms. “And he jiggled when he laughed. I mean really, how many people jiggle?” She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know. Why?” He shrugged, staring at Gibbs. “Do you believe that things can happen that we can’t explain?” Her eyes shined as she pushed him against one of the candy display houses. “Are you asking me if I believe in Santa, Tony?” He flushed, shaking her off. “Of course not. Besides, he only visits the good little girls. You’re naughty, not nice.” Smirking, she poked him in the chest. “Naughty can be very nice.” “Let’s go, you two,” Gibbs ordered, staring at them. “You find the old man, DiNozzo?” “Sorry, boss. Although, Mrs. Claus reported constant visits to the cookie counter.” When Gibbs just glared at him, Tony elaborated. “It’s in the food court.” “Ducky and Palmer have the body prepared for transport. We’re heading back.” As Tony grabbed his evidence case, following the others away from the scene, he stopped at one of the large, red mailboxes. The red mail boxes were located throughout the mall, each with a table and stationary. Kids could write their letters to 7

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Santa and drop them in the mailboxes, assured that Santa would get their letters in the North Pole. Hesitating at one of the tables, Tony glanced up, watching the others get farther away. What the hell. Grabbing a crayon off the table and a piece of stationary, he wrote one word messily across the lines. Gibbs. Folding it quickly, he stuffed it in an envelope and dropped it into the large, red mailbox. He jogged to catch up to the group, ignoring McGee’s curious look, and whistled “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” all the way back to the office.

Tony entered Abby’s lab, carrying a Caf-Pow, bracing himself for the metal music that kept their resident Goth happy. To his surprise, the lab was completely silent, not even a single electric guitar in range. He looked around the lab, eyeing the evidence from the shopping mall crime scene, wondering if Abby found any leads for them yet. The silence was so unnerving that he didn’t notice Abby standing at the clear sliding door to her office, arms crossed. “You are in big trouble, Mister. Like, dead trouble. Like I can find a way to kill you without any evidence trouble.” Tony did what he always did when he was nervous. He pasted on a trademark DiNozzo smile, exuding all his natural charms. Shaking the drink, the ice cubes rattled in the cup. “Thought you might need a refill.” Abby scowled. She marched over to where he was standing, her black skirt swishing dangerously as she approached. Tony eyed her, wondering who the hell had tightened her dog collar. When she was within arm’s reach, her scowl turned into a pout and she slapped his chest repeatedly as she scolded him. “You didn’t think you could trust me? Me? Everybody trusts me! Have I ever done anything to make you think you couldn’t trust me? Well? I would like to know because it’s seriously not fair that you’re keeping secrets from me. Ziva, okay. McGee maybe. But me? You’ve always trusted me!” Tony caught her wrist, rubbing his chest before she could take another shot. “Have you been inhaling the chemicals again?” She considered it, her eyes looking at the ceiling in thought, before settling on him. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m mad.” Taking a step back, he placed the Caf-Pow on her examination table as a peace offering. “Then why are you mad?” She blew out an annoyed breath, the hurt written across her face. From behind her back, she pulled out a familiar red Christmas card. His mouth gaped as she waved it at him. “Is it starting to come back to you, Tony?” “Abby, that’s?” “I know what it is, okay? Jack invited you to Christmas with him and Gibbs.” This was one conversation Tony was seriously not ready to have, not with his own feelings for Gibbs still so close to the surface. “Where did you get that?” Murderous anger crossed her pale face again. “From Ducky. I had to hear it from Ducky.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “And guess who told Ducky? Yep, that’s right. Ziva and McGee. Do you understand why I’m so angry now?”

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Tony took a step back as she stalked forward. When he hit into one of her counters, she stepped so close to him that he could only brace himself for more slapping. Abby’s chin trembled before she let out a gush of apologies, wrapping him up in a hug. “I’m so sorry you couldn’t come to me, Tony. I really would have been there for you.” Tony frowned, prying her off him. “Abs, I really, really don’t understand.” She sniffled, running her fingers delicately over the red envelope. “That you and Gibbs are like Ozzy and Sharon, without all the blood and beheaded animals.” His eyebrows jumped, a knot forming in his stomach. It was almost cruel having this discussion. Would he like to admit that Gibbs was his Ozzy?or Sharon? Sure. Was it true? It was so far off that it hurt. Gibbs had never made a move like that on him, probably never would either. “Abby, we’re really not?” “It’s okay.” She took a deep breath and forced on a smile. “I’ll get over the initial, devastating hurt of being the last one to know. I’ll try to forget that even Palmer knew before me.” She pulled him down into another tight hug, squeezing him like her favorite farting hippo. “I’m completely here for you guys. All the way.” Grabbing his hand and putting on a mischievous smile, she pulled him towards her desk, not giving him a chance to process her mood-swinging behavior. Using a key, she unlocked the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, which Tony thought was weird, considering how open Abby was with everything. Grinning at him, she opened the drawer, rooting around inside. “Gibbs is very traditional, isn’t he?” she asked. Tony just rubbed the back of his neck. “Abs?” “I’ll take that as a yes.” She stood up, her eyes impish. “Is he into mission or doggie style?” She bit her lip. Okay, and this really wasn’t helping. Tony closed his eyes, trying to ignore the images of Gibbs fucking him, taking him over and over again. He whimpered a bit, his cock twitching as it started to swell. This couldn’t be happening. His eyes suddenly shot open as Abby dropped something large, covered in soft plastic in his hands. He looked down to see the biggest fake dick of his life, a dildo of enormous proportions with a thick girth. He almost wanted to cross his legs in fear. The thought of that monster pushing into his ass, stretching him?well all Tony could do was gape. Despite his constantly full social calendar, including some men, he’d never been big into experimenting with toys. Tony wondered if Gibbs knew what his favorite forensic scientist did on her weekends. Taking in Tony’s pink cheeks, Abby smirked. “I had to place a special order for that one. So worth it though. Oh, and take this one too. You don’t want to get bored up in Stillwater.” Tony juggled the large dildo, grabbing its thick girth as Abby slapped a strange looking black, leather harness in his left hand. He stared at the leather bands, noticing a leather cock ring at the end. He couldn’t believe it, but Abby had reduced him to feeling like a virgin again. He really, really wanted to know what she did on her weekends. She smiled proudly at his reaction and pointed at the leather straps. “It’s a harness. See, first you put on the cock ring.” She grabbed a few of the straps, untangling them. “Then you fit yourself in the harness. It tightens and spreads. The back is obviously 9

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left open so your partner can have easy access.” She pulled at the material as if testing its elasticity. “This one’s new, so feel free to break it in.” Tony wasn’t sure what to say, so he did what he always did when he was nervous. He made a joke. “I always preferred butt plugs, myself.” “Is that right, DiNozzo?” His stomach clenched at that harsh voice. Abby just laughed, pulling him into another tight hug, the sex toys pressed between them. She pulled back and smiled that special smile at the newcomer in the lab. The smile that was reserved only for Gibbs. Shit. Turning around, Tony locked eyes with his boss, wanting to sink into the floor as Gibbs eyed the toys in his hands. “Hi, Boss.” Gibbs’s face was neutral. “So you like plugs, DiNozzo?” Tony was surprised he kept his composure as well as he did. Smirking, he held up the toys. “You know me, Boss. Always one for a good time.” Gibbs didn’t say anything, even ignored Abby watching the interplay between them. He stepped closer to Tony, glancing dispassionately down at the toys. Leaning closer, Gibbs only stopped when his mouth was a hair length away from Tony’s ear. Tony swallowed, as Gibbs lowered his voice for his ears only. “Some people know how to please their lovers better than plastic, DiNozzo.” Tony shivered, locking eyes with that intense blue gaze. “Give those things back to Abby and get back to work.” When Tony didn’t respond, Gibbs forcefully took the toys away from him, barking. “Now, DiNozzo.” Tony nodded, heading out of the lab, feeling like a probie all over again. He heard Gibbs give Abby a terse “we need to talk” that Tony had never heard Gibbs give her before. That annoyed tone was usually reserved for him. He felt oddly guilty as he left the lab, feeling as if some line had been crossed. He hated thinking he’d gotten Abby in trouble. He hated more thinking that he’d disappointed Gibbs.

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Chapter 2 He worked through the rest of the day without anyone mentioning the Christmas card, Gibbs, or the toys he’d been left holding in full view of his boss. Tony supposed that was a miracle in and of itself, but he suspected that Gibbs wanted to forget the whole incident as much as he did. After speaking to Abby for approximately ten minutes, the older agent had stepped off the elevator and walked right to his desk, not even glancing in Tony’s direction once all afternoon. Perhaps it showed a severe lack of character, a wanting of independence, but Tony lapped up Gibb’s praise like no one else in his life. Even negative attention was better than this silence. Head slaps implied that Gibbs was listening, paying attention to his screw-ups. He’d come to expect them, even like them if it meant Gibbs’s hands, calloused from sanding his boat, were touching his hair, perfectly silky with salon tested hair products. Gibbs’s hands and his head had formed an attachment over the years, but Gibbs wasn’t so much as looking at him now. And it sucked. For their parts, Ziva and McGee ignored him as well, which Tony didn’t get at all. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was him. They’d snooped through his mail, stole his Christmas card, and passed it all over the office. Even Palmer knew. God. Merry Christmas, Anthony DiNozzo. The next morning was a repeat of the following afternoon. He’d come in not long before Ziva, took off his scarf, turned on his computer, and checked his mail. He resisted lifting his eyes to her as she walked in, taking her own seat at her desk. A few tense moments passed as she checked her calendar. “Anymore Christmas cards, Tony?” she asked, not lifting her gaze from the screen. Tony forced a smile. “Well, if I did receive any, you’d certainly know, wouldn’t you?” Her chin lifted. “And what is that supposed to mean?” He braced his hands on his desk, leaning forward in her direction. “It means that you’re a no-good Christmas card stealer.” She gaped before her eyes flared. “I did not steal anything from you!” “You took that card off my desk. McGee wouldn’t have had the nerve, so that only leaves you, Officer card-stealer David.” She stood up, rushing over to his desk. Bracing her palms on his desk, matching his stance, she fumed. “Is that what you think, Tony?” “It’s what I know, Ziva.” She released an annoyed sound before running her hands through her hair. Glaring at him, she ordered, “Follow me.” Tony was tempted to ignore her as she stormed in the direction of the elevator, but he was too angry to leave their argument unfinished. He reached her just as she was erratically pressing the elevator button. When the chime dinged and the doors slid open, Ziva pushed her way in, bumping a flustered McGee in the process. Tony followed her, shouldering McGee as well. McGee was forced further into the elevator, his coffee cup jostling in the process. “Hey, do you guys mind?” Shaking out his scarf, wet with coffee, he sipped the spilled coffee settled on the white lid. “What’s the emergency anyway?”

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“Shut up, McGee.” Ziva punched the door close button, her angry eyes not leaving Tony’s. As the elevator started to descend, she hit the emergency stop. They came to an abrupt halt, darkness invading the small space. McGee looked between them. “Okay, whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out.” “He accused me of being a thief!” Ziva pointed a finger at Tony’s chest. Tony sneered, crossing his arms. “Well, if it walks like a duck?” “Duck? Are you calling me a duck?” Her eyebrows dipped, incredulous. “Why would you call me a duck?” McGee put a calming hand on her arm. “What Tony means is?” “Did he or did he not call me a duck? A little waddling poultry animal.” “It’s just a saying. He’s not literally calling you duck, are you, Tony?” Tony smirked. “Quack. Quack.” McGee stepped between them before Ziva could strike. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on? You know Gibbs is probably waiting for us.” “I did not steal your Christmas card,” she declared. “Oh, really? Then it just somehow walked itself down to Abby’s lab.” She looked away, waving an impatient hand. “Yes, fine, so I showed it to Abby.” At Tony’s expectant look, she sighed. “And to Ducky, but only them.” “Gee, Officer David, that sounds an awful lot like card-stealing.” He pretended to think, knowing it only irritated her more. “In fact, I’d call that the definition of cardstealing.” “It is not stealing!” She pulled the worn, red Christmas card out of her jacket, handing it to him. “I merely borrowed it. I am sorry that I went through your mail, but you were acting strangely yesterday, and I wanted to know why.” “It wasn’t your place,” he said softly, fingering the red card. “You are right.” Her head dipped and the lines of her face softened. “But I was worried about you. The last time you were keeping secrets you were undercover for the Director. I did not want you to go through that alone again.” Just as he was about to accept her answer, he frowned. “Wait a minute. Once you knew what it was, why did you show Ducky and Abby? Why not just give it back to me?” She snorted. “I could hardly believe that you, you of all people, were invited to Gibbs’s family home for Christmas.” She gestured with her hand. “What is so special about you? I thought Jackson Gibbs liked me much more.” “And he had to like me more than Tony,” McGee added, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “Yes, exactly,” Ziva stressed. “McGee and Abby are the two friendliest people at NCIS. Why would Jackson Gibbs choose to invite you to Christmas and not them? It makes no sense.” Tony looked between them before laughing, waving the Christmas card in their faces. “You’re both jealous.” 12

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“No,” McGee corrected. “We’re confused. We can barely stand you and we’re paid to deal with you. Why would Gibbs’s father want to spend his holiday with you?” Tony preened, tucking the card into his pocket. “He’s a man of good taste obviously. Besides, he always liked me more. He gave me that sweater, remember?” McGee gave Ziva a defeated look. “He’s got a point.” She crossed her arms. “I refuse to believe it. There has to be another explanation.” “Face it, Ziva,” Tony said. “I’m just more likeable than you.” “You are as likeable as a penguin!” Tony and McGee both frowned at the awkward response. Then Tony smiled. “Penguins are likeable, right, Probie? March of the Penguins. Award-winning documentary of the mating season of?” “Fine,” she growled, hands on her hips. “A hippo! You are as likeable as of fat, smelly hippo.” “Now that’s just mean. Have I ever called you fat? Probie, help me out here.” McGee just rolled his eyes, releasing the emergency brake. “I’m not listening.” “She just called me fat.” “Not listening!” Ziva sighed. “You should talk to Abby. She was most displeased when she read the card.” “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “We talked. So, think Gibbs is going to bust my ass today or what?” “When I got the card from Abby this morning, she said that Gibbs did not know you received it. She did not tell him about his father’s invitation when it became apparent he didn’t know.” Tony could barely believe his luck. The knot that had been growing in his stomach since yesterday started to recede. “You’re serious.” Ziva gave a slight shake of her head. “She must like you very much to keep such information from Gibbs. Perhaps you are as likeable as a penguin.”

Twenty-four hours later, NCIS solved the murder of the shopping mall Marine. His best friend had been reduced to tears as Gibbs and Ziva took turns interrogating him. Apparently, the delusional young man believed his wife was having an affair with the young Marine and acted to take out his competition. Tony and McGee watched the interrogation in style, kicked back in standard issue chairs, munching on handfuls of popcorn. McGee gave Gibbs a 10 and Ziva an 8. Tony thought Ziva barely hit a 6. Gibbs was definitely an 11. Tony wouldn’t admit it, but he was glad to have this latest case solved before the holiday. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and mostly everyone had plans. Mostly. Despite the red Christmas card sitting on his mantel at home, he hadn’t made up to mind about Jack Gibbs’s invitation. On one hand, he’d love to spend time around Gibbs’s old man, soaking up all he could about his boss. On the other hand, Gibbs

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would kill him. Kill him and kill him again. Then he’d burn his remains like a bad sci-fi movie-of-the-week. He’d just shut down his computer when a package wrapped in blood red paper and a silk black bow was placed on his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he looked up to see Abby, wearing her pretty (somewhat scary) red and black lace holiday dress. “Open it, Tony! I spent all weekend looking for the perfect gift for you.” As Tony shook the box, Abby placed similarly wrapped presents on Ziva’s, McGee’s, and Gibbs’s desks. Ziva eyed her red package, little Stars of David forming a checkered pattern. “This is very thoughtful,” Ziva said, trying to smile. “I don’t know what to say.” Abby bounced. “Open it, open it! I really hope you like it, Ziva.” “And if you don’t,” McGee added, “I’m sure Abby provided gift receipts.” Abby sucked in a breath, clasping her chest. “McGee! Gift receipts are evil. They’re for people who don’t bother to think of thoughtful gifts. They’re a complete cop-out. I would never stoop so low with my friends.” McGee eyed the blood-red present and then glanced down at his own presents he’d yet to distribute. Abby stalked forward, standing in front of his desk. “You got me a gift receipt, didn’t you, McGee?” McGee looked around for help, but Tony quickly looked away. Ziva became interested with unwrapping her present. Tony had to hand it to the probie. He muttered out some excuse to use the bathroom, grabbed his bagful of gifts, and fled to remove the receipts. “Honestly,” Abby huffed, watching him go, “gift receipts! Am I a hard person to shop for?” Tony and Ziva exchanged similar looks before trying to comfort her. Luckily, Gibbs breezed into the room, carrying a cup of coffee and an envelope. He kissed Abby on the cheek and handed her a green card. She vibrated with excitement as she opened the gift, pulling out two tickets to the Body exhibit in Atlantic City. She stammered, squealing before pulling Gibbs into a tight hug. “I’ve wanted to see this forever, Gibbs! collection of preserved human corpses?”

How did you know I wanted to see a

He gave a slight smile. “Lucky guess.” Abby sighed, staring at her tickets. “Do you see, people? This doesn’t require a gift receipt. Nope. Not at all.” Tony couldn’t help the longing he felt as Abby cradled her tickets. Gibbs had taken the time to think of a weird gift for her and then spent the time tracking them down. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally. Gibbs didn’t tend to “do” gifts. Ducky and Abby were the exceptions. After all, Ziva and McGee didn’t get anything either. Yeah. It still sucked. Not wanting to brood, he tried to push all thoughts of Gibbs away. It wasn’t easy, especially when he opened Abby’s present and found a monster butt plug waiting for him. He barely had a chance to close the lid before she winked at him, pleased with herself. He could feel his face flush. 14

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“I hope it’s the brand you like,” she whispered, which just drew more attention to them. Ziva and McGee attempted to get a look at his gift, but he steadfastly refused. Gibbs was giving Abby an uncomfortable glare that made Tony want to tuck his tail between his legs and call uncle. Abby however looked unaffected. He was relieved when McGee opened his present and found some techno-toy to play with. Ziva received a new set of knives. Whatever Abby gave Gibbs made the two of them exchange challenging stares. “Watch it,” Gibbs warned, shoving the gift in his drawer and locking it. Tony would have given anything to have seen inside that box. Instead, he settled for Abby’s knowing smirk. After calling down to autopsy, Palmer and Ducky joined the quasi-office party, Ducky bringing up a bottle of his favorite Brut and Palmer a trayload of cookies from a nearby bakery. “I thought it would be festive,” Palmer said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Mr. Palmer,” Ducky chastised, “do we look like cookie people to you? I tell you I’m going to be bringing a bottle of my best wine, imported in fact, and you bring cookies.” Abby looped an arm in Palmer’s tense one, grabbing a cookie from his platter. “I like wine and cookies,” she announced, giving him a squeeze. “It reminds me of my third grade holiday party.” She paused, munching the cookie. “Only we had beer.” “Sign me up for that school,” Tony said, snatching a glass of wine from Ducky. “A drunken little DiNozzo,” Ziva laughed. “I do not want to picture it.” “Hey, I can hold my liquor better than you.” And maybe that bet was a little childish, but, damn it, he was getting tired of being shown up by her. Ziva, of course, just smirked, downing her glass of wine in one swallow. Knowing he’d just been dared, he choked down his glass too. When they both held out their glasses for a refill, Ducky looked appalled. “This is a fine Brut, not a Budweiser. Honestly, I don’t know how you survive the day, Jethro.” Gibbs just took a sip from a flask stored in his desk. “Don’t know either, Duck.” Tony had to admit that the quasi-office party wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He filled up on cookies and wine, dancing twice with Abby, and once with McGee, on a dare. Probie didn’t find it funny. By the time Palmer said his goodbyes, Tony was feeling warm and content. He stretched his body out in this desk chair, crossing his legs at the ankles. The wine relaxed his muscles as he watched the interplay between his co-workers. Poor McGee was still stumbling after Abby like a whipped puppy. Ziva and Ducky were talking, and he realized, for the first time, how close they’d become. He held his glass of wine lazily in his hand, resting it against his thigh, while the other hand was gently splayed over his groin, instinctively. He blinked when the glass was removed from his grasp, looking up into Gibbs’s vacant eyes. He let the other man remove the glass, realizing that his boss of kneeling in front of him, handing the glass up to Ducky. “Think you had enough, Tony.” And Tony’s tipsy brain was assaulted with conflicting emotions. Was it nice that Gibbs cared about his personal well-being? Yes. Then again, what right did Gibbs have to cut him off? 15

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Gibbs touched the outside of his thigh, tapping. “You okay to drive?” Tony tried to clear his head. “Sure, boss. Never better.” The other man just stared at him. “Maybe I should take you home.” And boy did that sound promising. Now, if only Gibbs meant back home as in back to bed, his bed with Tony on it. Oh yeah, that could work. Tony closed his lazy eyes as he pictured Gibbs’s bed, probably covered with too much flannel, but warm and functional. His back would graze against the cotton sheets as Gibbs rocked into him, running calloused hands over his shins and thighs. “DiNozzo?” When Tony opened his eyes, Gibbs was standing over him with a grimace. “Try keeping your mind off whatever woman you dated last night. You okay to get home?” Tony’s eyebrows dipped and then he heard Ziva’s choking laugh. Looking down at himself, he saw a slight tenting in his pants. Oh God. He reared up in his seat, trying to play it cool and ignore the glint in Gibbs’s eyes. “Just the wine, boss. Sure it’s happened to you before.” Gibbs just grunted, walking away. “Now, now,” Ducky crooned, “it’s just a physical reaction, Jethro. And it’s not like young Anthony’s on the clock.” Glancing down at his watch, Ducky winced. “And it really is getting late. Mother will be so disappointed if I don’t come bearing fruitcake tomorrow.” Ducky put on his hat, giving Gibbs a steady look. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, Jethro. It is Christmas Eve and even the world’s best boat-makers know when to celebrate with a friend.” “I’ll be fine, Duck.” “Of course, of course, and the Queen is a maid of twenty. Save some of that alcohol for me this year.” Gibbs smiled, looking down at the paperwork on his desk. “I’ll think about it.” Tony watched Ducky leave, McGee following not long after with Abby. Ziva surprised him by giving him a terse hug, her wool scarf pressing into his neck. “I appreciate having you as my partner,” she said, “even though you are constantly making a fool out of yourself.” She smiled, punching him in the arm, which Tony thought was actually kind of nice. She said a formal goodnight to Gibbs before leaving them alone. Tony rubbed his hands on his pants to diffuse the nervous energy in his body. Gibbs still wasn’t looking at him, but Tony knew he’d seen something in the other man’s face when he took that glass away. It was the same type of look he kept seeing Gibbs give him, the look he’d tried to convince himself actually meant something. And Tony wanted him, damn it. At times, he thought maybe Gibbs wanted him too. He neared Gibbs’s desk, trying for collected, but probably just looking halfway drunk. He smiled jauntily. “So, you still want to take me home, boss?” He leaned a hip against the desk, half-sitting on the paperwork. The older man’s eyes glared at his paperwork, then traveled to his hip, finally up to his face. “Move it, DiNozzo, before I move it for you.”

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Swallowing, Tony moved off the desk, trying to laugh. “Funny there, boss. So, we car-pooling tonight? Save on gas. Come on.” Gibbs leveled his gaze. Then he returned his attention to the paperwork. “Go home. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.” “Well, maybe I could stop by tomorrow. Share some of the good stuff with you and Ducky.” A pause. “I could bring beer and pizza. We could make a night of it.” And there it was. Out of his mouth with no way to take it back. The offer was made and everything else it implied. We could stuff ourselves with cheese and pepperoni, sand your boat, and then you could fuck me. You could fuck me in the basement, against your boat, or in your kitchen against the fridge, where you keep the beer, or, if possible, in a bed with flannel sheets and pillows. You could forget about Shannon and Kelly for one night and you could be with me. It doesn’t even have to mean much, not at first. I could make you forget. Intense blue eyes studied him. “I don’t remember inviting you, DiNozzo.” Tony forced another laugh, knowing it sounded pathetic. What did he really expect? Gibbs to take him up on his offer? How would that even work? Would Tony join Gibbs sanding his dumb boat in his basement? Like that was much of a date. He tried to tell himself that it was for the best. He’d propositioned his boss, and he’d been shot down. No big deal; he’d done it before. Hell, Baltimore was just one reminder of a string of bad decisions. “Sure, no problem.” Tony pulled his coat on, not looking at the other man as he collected his things. “Merry Christmas, boss.”

His apartment was dark and cold when he opened the front door. Hitting the lights, he hung up his coat, rubbing his hands together. He adjusted the temperature and then plugged in his four-foot, artificial Christmas tree. The lights blinked and he supposed the glass balls were kind of pretty. He turned on the television and then wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and a half-eaten carton of General Tao’s chicken. Flopping on the couch with his leftover Chinese, he flipped through latenight infomercials. He stopped to watch a chef cut a cinder block in half with a steak knife. “Cool.” Mouth full of chicken, the light from the TV flickered on the wall, illuminating his underused fireplace. On the mantel was a picture of Abby, a copy of Kate’s wet t-shirt contest photo, and Jack Gibbs’s Christmas card. Staring at it, he wiped his mouth, muting the television. He grabbed the card reading over the invitation again. Tony, How are you, boy? Hope my son’s not giving you too much hell. Figured it was only right to invite you to Christmas. Nothing fancy, of course. Pack a bag and come on up. See you in a few. Jack It was so anti-Gibbs that he almost wanted to think his boss was adopted. Jack was friendly, funny, warm. He’d given Tony a sweater out of his own closet, no questions 17

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asked. Gibbs would probably make him freeze to death before lending him anything. Tapping the card against the mantel, he pulled out his cell-phone. Not even hesitating, he dialed the number he’d come to memorize. Listening to it ring, he thought about hanging up before he was connected to an answering machine. “Hi, Jack. This is Tony DiNozzo. I work with your son, which of course you already know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. “Look, I’m sorry about not contacting you sooner. Truth is, I wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea. If the offer’s still good, I’d like to drive up tomorrow. I’ll be there around noon. Call me if your plans changed. And?thanks for the card.” He finished his General Tao’s chicken, watched an hour of the Home Shopping Network, packed a suitcase full of sweaters, set his GPS for Stillwater, PA, and then got himself blissfully buzzed. He fell asleep on his sofa, his body warmed by alcohol and his apartment smelling like a cheap Chinese restaurant. The multi-color blinking lights on his Christmas tree illuminated his apartment like a rundown Vegas strip. Some distance away, rough hands methodically sanded down splinters, sending wood particles in the air like the finest winter snow.

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Chapter 3 It was as if an imaginary line divided Stillwater from the rest of the country. Perhaps it was the coal mines that darkened the air with soot, the quaint stores lining the main pass through town. It might have been the railroad, not a subway, not even a speedline. A railroad, with a turn of the century platform and ticket windows. There was a barber’s shop with its rotating sign, a gas station that also served as the town’s only auto repair shop, a school hidden beyond the tree-lined neighborhoods, and, of course, Jack’s grocery store. To Tony, this was the boonies. To Gibbs, it was home. It was hard to imagine Gibbs as a child, running along one of those sidewalks, but it was hard to imagine Gibbs as a child period. As Tony drove up to the town, the trees and bushes, roofs, and streets were powdered with the whitest snow. He’d never seen snow so white or so much of it. He turned up the heater in his car as he maneuvered his way towards Jack’s store. It was eerie how nothing changed since his last visit. Nothing changed. Nothing. He wondered if this was what Gibbs felt coming home. Parking in front of the grocery, Tony grimaced in the cold. He clomped his way through the snow, arms tightening around his body. Why the hell did he wear his leather jacket? He rapped on the door’s glass pane, staring in at the empty store. Releasing a cold breath, he rattled the door knob with his gloved hands, thinking maybe Jack left the store unlocked for him. Groaning, he knocked his forehead against the door. “You thinking of stealing something, mister?” A defiant voice asked. Tony turned to find a boy of around seven glaring at him from the street. “Ah, no. No, I’m not stealing anything. I’m looking for Jackson Gibbs.” “Around here people knock.” Tony gave the kid a glance over. It was a mini-Gibbs; he almost expected a head slap. “Must be the water,” he muttered, looking back at the store. “Look, kid, it’s really cold, so maybe you can tell me where Mr. Gibbs is.” Tony rooted through his pocket, pulling out a dollar bill. “Here, and go get yourself some hot cocoa, okay? Isn’t that nice?” “Figure Mr. Gibbs is where he always is this time of day.” The kid turned away. “Come on! I’m a visitor here! Is this how you treat your tourists?” When the kid didn’t come back, he groaned, wiping at his cold nose. Shivering, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, glancing at the buildings. His Italian shoes were filling with snow. “Think, DiNozzo. Where would people go in the boonies?” His eyes caught a poorly lit diner sign across the street. He grinned, hustling across the road. The diner was named “Charlotte’s” and had tinsel, garland, and reindeer figurines in the display window. A bell jingled overhead as he entered. Slapping his gloves together to shake off the loose snow, his skin tingled as it met the overly warm air. Inside was a variety of smells: eggs & bacon frying, potatoes, muffins and pies, coffee all mingling together in a delectable way. Forks and knives were scraping plates and a jukebox played Christmas music in the corner. “Tony!” He smiled as Jack waved at him from a red, vinyl booth. Like the rest of Stillwater, Jack hadn’t changed. His eyes were still impish, his gut just reaching over his belt. 19

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With him were two of the local men. Jack stood, surprising him with a loose hug, slapping his back. The older man chuckled, taking a long look at him. “Damn, boy, we don’t got much use for that fancy, thin leather up here.” “It went with my shoes,” Tony laughed, displaying his wet feet. Jack barked a laugh, pulling him around to face the table. “I’d like you to meet some friends of mine. This is Rob Taylor, he runs the mechanic shop and Lester Smith, he works with our local boys in blue.” Squeezing Tony’s shoulder, Jack announced, “Boys, this here is Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS.” “People are still talking about NCIS,” Lester said in between sips of coffee. “You all really made an impression. Would’ve liked to have met your team. Jack can’t seem to say enough about you all.” When Jack shot Lester a flustered glare, Tony cleared his throat. “Well, we all enjoyed our stay here.” “Liar,” Jack said, giving him a teasing look. “So, DiNozzo, huh?" The other man, Rob Taylor, asked. “That Italian?” Tony gave a devilish grin. “Complete Italiano.” “How you know Jack here? I mean, not many folks come up to visit us in Stillwater.” Tony’s eyes darted to Jack, unsure. Jack just put a good-natured arm around his shoulders. “He’s family.” Tony couldn’t take his eyes off Jack as those words left his lips. He hadn’t expected the response at all, but, surprisingly no one at the table questioned it. Maybe people just didn’t like to pry in Stillwater. Jack just winked at him and gave him a nudge, grabbing his coat. It was a large, quilted garment with a hood attached, not fashionable at all. “Guess we best be getting back,” Jack announced. “Tony’s staying for the holiday, you know.” “That’s real good, Jack,” Lester said. “It’s good that you have company for Christmas.” The remark gave Tony pause. He wondered if Jack was just as unsocial as his son. He frowned at the thought of them both being so isolated. Jack nodded, zipping up his coat. “See you boys around.” Tony followed him to the door. Jack looked at his thin leather jacket again. “We’re going to have to get you a better coat.” Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was an Armani and had cost him several months pay. That was something he’d usually brag to McGee or Ziva. Jack would probably just think it was a stupid waste of money. Just like Gibbs always did. “You’re probably right,” Tony said, tucking in his scarf as Jack opened the door. The bell jingled and a gust of winter air blew against their bodies. They trudged their way through the snowy sidewalk, crossing the street, Tony nearly slipping on a patch of ice. Jack kicked at his shoes. “It’s those slick soles you have. You need better traction. What you need are some boots.”

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And he was somewhat upset that his favorite Italian wardrobe was getting its ass kicked by Stillwater fricking Pennsylvania. Instead, he just brushed off his hands from where he’d braced himself on a parked car and thanked whoever was listening for letting him keep his balance. Jack opened the store, stamping his boots on the mat and waving Tony in. Thankfully, the store was still warm, but not as uncomfortable as the diner. Many of the shelves were bare, and Tony could see several large empty boxes broken on the floor. “I get in new products nearly every day, but with Christmas coming, nothing stays long. I can barely stock it before it’s in someone’s basket.” “So, business is good?” “It takes care of me, just as it’s always done.” Jack collected their coats and scarves and hung them in a closet. “You bring any luggage?” Tony pointed at the door. “In my car. The place was locked up when I came.” “Well, you better go get those fancy clothes of yours. They’ll be liable to freeze in weather like this.” After Tony collected his suitcase, Jack led him upstairs to where the bedrooms were. He noticed that in typical Pennsylvania fashion, the rooms were small, with little or no closets. The ceilings were low and the doorways were rounded in a Cape Cod design. The floorboards creaked as he placed his suitcase by one of the beds. That was the funny thing. There were two beds set-up in the room, both skinny twins with patchwork quilts. Hand-crocheted pillows were resting against the headboards. It reminded Tony of Fargo. “You going to be okay here?” Jack looked uncertain, and Tony was a bit ashamed by his Gucci luggage. He should’ve brought the duffel bag instead. “Not much, for sure, but it warms up real nice.” “It’s great, Jack.” Tony pointed at one of the quilts. “Don’t see much of those in DC.” Jack ran a stubby hand over the patchwork. “Leroy’s grandmother made the most beautiful bed things. Can’t buy quality like that.” It was fitting somehow that Gibbs’s home was full of these unique, handmade items. They told a story about the history of these people, speaking louder than perhaps the people ever did. Yet, each stitch on the quilt was perfectly placed, not a thread out of line. It was a testament to the workmanship of the family, yet a bright, colorful reminder of their roots. He wondered if Gibbs had watched his grandmother make this quilt. Kate probably would’ve loved the charm. Tony smiled slightly at the thought, touching the patchwork. Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “I got beer downstairs. We can watch a game and maybe get some pies baked for tomorrow.” “You bake?” “Sure.” Jack grinned. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without pies. Can’t bring myself to ever buy any. You like football?” Tony chuckled, tapping his chest proudly. “I may have played in college.” Jack just nodded. “How are you at baking?” “Pretty crappy. For me, food usually comes served on a plate or out of a carton. Sorry.” 21

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“Hell, boy, you better get over that if we’re planning on having a main course.” When Tony blinked, Jack laughed, heading back down the narrow staircase. “Hope you brought your hunting rifle.”

The air in the basement was stale, the smell of shaved wood and old coffee a familiar choking scent. They were smells Jethro let linger for years, becoming as a part of the basement as he was. Taking a sip from his mug, alcohol splashed with a bit of coffee, he took a step back to admire his work. The boat was coming together nicely, like the others. And like the others, he’d burn this one soon. He didn’t turn to look at the sound of the door opening. He could tell from the gait that Ducky was staying true to his promise. He took a final drink from his mug, setting it on the worktable. “Hope you bought something good with you.” Ducky looked at him from beneath his wide-rimmed hat. He held up a bottle of whiskey. “Would I ever come empty-handed, Jethro?” Ducky shrugged out of his trench coat, laying it over a bench. He eyed the boat. “Marvelous what man can create with his own two hands.” Gibbs took the whiskey, grabbing a spare mug and filling it halfway. He refilled his own mug, handing the other to Ducky. “Mother was very disappointed with the fruitcake this year,” the medical examiner sighed, rubbing under his glasses. “She insists that Americans ruin the recipe.” Gibbs snorted. “Not much you could do to fix it.” “I never was able to understand why Americans dislike it. It really is an economical dessert.” “Tastes like spiced sawdust, Duck.” Ducky raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you’d certainly be one to know about sawdust, Jethro.” Jethro gave a crooked smile and started shaving down his boat again. Ducky watched him work, sipping his mug. “Have you spoken with your father yet?” Gibbs paused before moving the tool over the wood again. “Nope.” “Well, don’t you think you should?” “Not much to say.” The older man stood, eyeing his friend. “I thought relations with your father had improved since you went home.” “They did.” Gibbs stepped back to take a drink from his mug. “Doesn’t mean I have to see him now.” “Does it really?” Ducky crossed his arms. “Jethro, from what I understand, your father was attempting to soothe the hurt built up between you two. You could meet him halfway.” “You come here to lecture me on Christmas Eve?”

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Ducky blew out a breath. “He won’t be around forever, you know. As much as Mother tries my every nerve, I’m thankful to have her with me.” Jethro moved the metal instrument over the wood again. “He invited me up for Christmas. I told him I was busy.” The older man sputtered, waving a hand at the basement. “Busy? You call this ‘busy’?” “Yeah, Duck.” Jethro gave him a warning stare. “Busy.” Ducky took off his glasses, setting them on the worktable. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled a book of matches out of his pocket, resting them by Jethro’s tools. “You’ll need these soon, I wager. Couldn’t dare dream of keeping something valuable in the present.” Jethro stopped, pushing away from the boat. “You don’t need to stay.” “So, you’d push me out like the rest of them? I’ve known you for too long, my friend. You don’t get that luxury with me.” They locked eyes. “What about Tony?” Jethro snorted, turning away to reach for the whiskey. He refilled his mug. “What about him?” Ducky tisked, delighted. “Offering to drive him home, Jethro? Cutting off his liquor? You’re slipping.” The older man reached over, taking the mug away from him. “Anyone with eyes can see you care about him.” Jethro winced, grabbing a block of sandpaper. “I’ll keep that in mind.” “He won’t wait around forever!” Ducky scolded. “He’s young, funny, intelligent, handsome. Those are qualities that don’t stay single for long.” “DiNozzo won’t settle down. He enjoys his freedom too much.” “He would with you,” Ducky argued. “Honestly, Jethro, that boy thinks you walk on water. He’s had his eye on you since you hired him and it hasn’t changed.” “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” he barked, tossing his tool to the ground. “What’s your great solution, Doctor?” Ducky held his furious eyes. “You take that boy home and give him the shag of his life.” When Jethro turned away, his voice raised. “It’s what he wants; it’s what you want too! Anyone could see your concern for him yesterday, most of all Tony. It isn’t fair to play with him, Jethro. You stop these games and shag him or let him find someone else who will.” Jethro’s hands tightened on the boat’s ribs. “Can’t do that, Duck.” “Then that is a pity indeed.” He picked up the matchbook, offering it. “You can burn a hundred boats, but it won’t change a thing. It won’t bring them back.” “Watch yourself, Dr. Mallard,” Jethro growled, ignoring the matches. “I just can’t forget them.” “No one is asking you to, but you need to let them go. They are at peace, Jethro. Why shouldn’t you share some of that peace as well? It wasn’t your fault what happened to them.” Ducky put the matches in Jethro’s palm. “Let this be the last one. Burn it, say goodbye, and start to live again.” “I’ve tried,” he grit out, his jaw taut. “It doesn’t work.” 23

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“No, you’ve married some very poor red-headed substitutes.” Ducky closed his eyes. “When I was a boy, growing up during the war?” “I don’t feel like a story, Duck.” “When I was a boy,” Ducky continued undeterred. “I had this stuffed toy bear named Bobo.” At his friend’s look, Ducky chastised. “I was only a boy of six, Jethro. I was hardly refined. Anyway, I had this bear Bobo and I loved it with all the love a young boy could. He was a sight, of course. His fur was dirty from playing outside and he’d lost his right eye in an unfortunate accident with my Cousin Emily. Well, one day a boy down the street, William Bingley, cursed creature, snatched Bobo right out of my hands and ripped his head off.” Ducky sighed as if lost in memory. “There was stuffing everywhere. I cried for days, mourning that toy. My mother tried her best but couldn’t fix it, and she hardly had the patience for a crying child. So, she went out to the store and bought the same bear again. It was the exact one, Jethro. Same eyes, same fur. Perfect.” He gave the other man a long look. “Although that bear looked like Bobo, for all intents and purposes, it was not my beloved toy. I had memories with Bobo; I’d shared my dreams and tears with that doll. This new bear held none of those experiences with me.”

When Jethro didn’t look at him, Ducky smiled slightly. “He’s a lot like her, isn’t he? I’ll wager that Shannon was energetic, open, funny. She probably challenged you at every turn, really made you think. She was a good partner to you.” Ducky slapped Jethro’s back, grabbing his coat. “A decision doesn’t have to be made now.” He tied his belt and reached for his glasses and hat. “Just think about it.” He chuckled. “I’ll bet Stillwater, Pennsylvania is probably the most interesting spot on the map today. Why I wonder what Tony?” “Tony?” Jethro’s eyes narrowed. “Tony’s in Stillwater?” Ducky blanched. “Oh, dear. I believe I’ve let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Now, I didn’t mean?” But Ducky couldn’t stop him. Jethro was an angry mass of silent fury as he pounded up the steps. He could hear his friend upstairs, cursing and slamming drawers. Ducky sighed, sitting down on the stool, eyeing the boat. He poured himself a drink in the used mug and felt it burn his chest. He lifted his mug to the boat. “You survive another day, my friend. Cheers.”

Sure, being sent out with a hunting rifle and an orange cap was terrifying, but Tony was NCIS, goddamn it. He’d shot bad guys, survived car bombs, been kidnapped, beat up and emotionally wrecked. He could shoot a damn turkey. Jack had handed him the hunting gear and told him to bring home Christmas dinner. After Tony confirmed that he wasn’t being sent to the nearest supermarket, Jack pointed him in the direction of the woods behind the house. A flock of wild turkeys made their home in the woods, he said. Kill one, bring it back, and they’d clean it together. Yeah, so maybe Tony was still feeling a bit grossed out. “Gobble, gobble,” Tony whispered as he crept between the trees. “Fat, ugly, turkey, come here.” 24

That Christmas Time of the Year

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It was still snowing, had been snowing since he arrived. His fingers went numb forty minutes ago and his cheeks felt raw with windburn. He sighed, stopping to look around the forest. “I wonder how far to the nearest Boston Market.” To his surprise, the sound of wings flapping caught his attention. Hustling toward the noise, trying his best to be silent, he came upon the flock of wild turkeys. There were at least eight of them all walking the area, stopping every so often to peck at bugs squiggling in the dirt. “Aha!” With a triumphant grin, he propped his rifle against a fallen log, kneeling behind it. He looked up from the scope. “Which one of you guys is white meat?” Shrugging, he looked through the scope again. He was just about to aim at a large, clucking one, when a smaller, wimpy turkey blocked his line. “Go away,” he hissed, annoyed as the bird started to walk towards him. “Anorexic and stupid. I don’t want to eat you! Go!” He tried shooing the bird away, but it only walked closer. When he looked through the scope again, he noticed that all the other turkeys had been scared away by his yelling, all except the skinny bird staring at him. “Just great.” Feeling cold and tired of chasing illusive poultry, Tony raised his rifle. “Sorry, buddy, survival of the fittest and all that.” He carried the turkey home, proud even though it wasn’t much to look at. He trudged his way through the snow, wet and miserable. Only thoughts of Jack’s homemade hot chocolate kept him moving. Tony nearly fell to his knees in joy when the house came into view and he passed the tree-line. Grinning, he held the thin turkey in the air, shouting for Jack. Jack walked out of the house, his arms crossed and his face tired. Tony stopped halfway across the yard, wondering what had happened to Jack’s good mood. He’d been baking cookies and pies when he left, singing to his radio. “I got one!” he announced proudly, holding it up high, ignoring the ache in his arm. “That’s good,” Jack said, eyes downcast. “You did real good, Tony.” Cold pants of air came from his mouth. Confused by Jack’s mood, he looked down at his turkey. “Is it too small?” Just as Jack was about to reassure him, the backdoor opened again. Tony’s throat closed up when he saw Gibbs’s stern expression greet him. His boss looked mad, madder than mad. He was furious. Tony fought to hold his ground as Gibbs neared him, seemingly impenetrable to the cold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, DiNozzo?” Tony looked up for help, but Jack looked like he’d just been on the receiving end of his own Gibbs shouting match. The old man stared at them with weary eyes. Smiling crookedly, Tony held up the turkey again. “Just bringing home dinner, boss.” He heard Jack’s warning just before Gibbs’s fist connected with his jaw. He fell back into the snow, his prize turkey buried next to him. Gibbs stood over him, furious. Tony had never seen him so angry. Sure the business with Ari was bad, but this was a personal trespass. He’d overstepped his bounds. He never should have come to Stillwater. Gibbs pointed a terse finger at him. “You’re leaving. Now.” “Leroy, be reasonable,” Jack tried, but Gibbs just shouldered past him. The backdoor slammed close. 25

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Tony sat up in the snow, his pants wet completely through. Snow and ice clung to the ends of his hair and his ears were bright red. Even the turkey looked more pathetic lying in the snow next to him. This had been a bad idea, the worst idea he’d ever had. Picking himself out of the snow and ignoring the throbbing along his jaw, he decided to get out of Stillwater with whatever dignity he had left. He wouldn’t even collect his things in the house. He couldn’t face Gibbs again. God, he’d really blown it. He walked through the snow, his turkey forgotten, and headed for his car parked out front. Jack grabbed his arm as he passed, pulling him around. “Where the hell are you going?” Tony gave a bitter laugh, looking at the house. “I never should have come. This isn’t any of my business.” He wondered if he could contact HR over the holiday and beg the Director for a transfer in January. “Bullshit!” Jack shouted, tightening his grip. “I invited you. If Leroy doesn’t like it, he can leave. Spending one more year without my boy won’t kill me. Stubborn bastard.” “I really can’t?” “We’re having Christmas, you hear me? We’re going to clean that nice turkey you found and have a damn good day tomorrow.” Jack looked up into the white sky. “He’s only angry because he wants you here. He’s not use to wanting much anymore.” He slapped his arm. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see. Now, go get that skinny bird you call a turkey. My pies are bound to be burning.”

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Chapter 4 Jack’s pies were indeed burnt. The kitchen was full of smoke when they came in, Jack instantly going to the oven while Tony pulled the batteries from the smoke alarm to stop the blaring noise. Tony coughed, opening a window as Jack waved a dishtowel at the open oven door, fanning it. “Jesus Christ,” the older man grunted, using potholders to set his charred pies on the counter. “Stubborn, goddamn bastard!” Tony didn’t say anything as Jack continued to rescue his Christmas desserts, his language slipping into further vulgarity. “Simple son-of-a-bitch!” It really was almost comical if not for his throbbing jaw. “Goddamn jarhead asshole!” Tony cleared his throat, waving his hand through the smoke. “You need any help, Jack?” Jack gestured to the pies, their crusts blackened and crumbling. “There’s no saving them! Nasty, son-of-a-bitch, goddamn bastard!” Tony couldn’t help the laugh, grimacing at the flare of pain in his jaw. He brought a hand up to the bruised side of his face, touching the tender skin. Jack stopped cursing, the fight going out of him. He walked over to Tony, tilting his head to get a look at the damage. Sighing, he walked to the fridge and pulled out a white, butcher package of meat. “Leroy always did have a mean hook. Son-of-a-bitch.” Tony laughed again, wincing. “Stop, will you? I’m in enough pain already.” Jack unwrapped the meat at the counter. “He’s going to feel like hell once he calms down.” “Well, he should,” Tony said, rotating his jaw. He looked out the open window, the cold feeling good on his swollen face. “Never hit me before.” “He shouldn’t have hit you now.” Jack sliced a chunk from the strange, meat lump. Well, Tony hoped it was meat. It could have been funky cheese. He eyed the strange food as Jack tried putting it against his jaw. “Relax, now. It’ll take the swelling down.” Tony’s head jerked away. “What the hell is it?” “Scrapple.” “Scrapple? What the hell is scrapple and what animal does it come from?” “You don’t want to know, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, watching them from the doorway. “Give us a minute?” he asked Jack. Jack gave his son a long look before pressing the meat slab to Tony’s face, making him hold it in place. It was cold and slimy. Tony could hear the television turn on in the other room. The football game from earlier was just finishing up. He wished he was in watching that game instead of standing in the small kitchen, glaring at his boss. His emotions felt like they were on a rollercoaster these last two days. Yesterday, he was dejected at Gibbs’s less than subtle rejection, this afternoon he was feeling pretty good, even with the turkey hunt. Now, he was angry, bitter, 27

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embarrassed with a swollen face and hurt pride. He pulled the scrapple from his face, letting it smear his fingers, wondering what the hell he was still doing here. If he left now, he’d be back in D.C. by evening. He might even be able to call Abby and see if she had any Christmas plans. He didn’t tend to see his co-workers outside of work, but he didn’t think he wanted to spend the holiday alone this year. Gibbs took the meat out of his hand, pressing it back against his jaw. Tony startled at the cool pressure against his face, eyes catching Gibbs’s as another hand came up to cup the other side of his jaw. Although calloused, the touch was soft. Angry, Tony shoved Gibbs away, the meat splattering on the linoleum floor between them. “DiNozzo?” “Fuck you.” They both stilled, Tony as shocked as Gibbs at his response. Then he figured what the hell. There was no way he was going back to his job in January. He’d quit if the Director didn’t reassign him. He stepped closer, his eyes dark as he forced Gibbs to take a step back. It felt like such a victory, that little step! Continuing to hold the other man’s eyes, Tony repeated, stronger: “Fuck you.” Gibbs’s jaw clenched. “Okay, I deserved that.” “You deserve more than that.” Tony grimaced at the pain in his jaw. “Then take a swing. Make it count.” Tony snorted, turning away. “Guess I have more self-control than you. Maybe they should have taught you that in the Marines.” And that was a low blow, he knew. Gibbs was renown for his infamous self-control, normally. He was a results man. Without letting his emotions get the best of him, he’d track down untraceable bad guys and save the day. Apparently, the rules didn’t apply when he was around. Gibbs couldn’t help slapping his head or barking out an order. When he thought about it, Gibbs had very little self-control with him. He wasn’t sure if that thought delighted or pissed him off. Tony stared at Jack’s pies, beyond edible now. Gibbs just smiled slightly, his hands flexing at his side. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d think Gibbs was uncomfortable. “He always burns them. He loved my mother’s pies. Every year he tries to bake them like her, every year the smoke detector goes off.” Tony acted as if he didn’t hear the remark. “I should get going.” Gibbs looked down, rubbing his neck. “Tony?” “Holiday traffic, you know.” He forced a grin. “Don’t want to get caught in it. Let me just say bye to Jack.” In the living room, Jack was sitting on his recliner, staring at the television. He gestured to the sofa next to him when Tony walked in. The room, like the rest of the place, was lived-in. Furniture that should have gone out in the sixties filled the small space with hues of avocado green and marigold yellow. The carpet was some kind of dust-collecting brown shag and decorative plates and knick-knacks covered the walls, obviously leftover from his wife. “Fourth down, Tony. We can still grab a few beers.” Jack raised his voice, knowing his son was listening in the kitchen. “That’s if the jarhead doesn’t throw another tantrum!” 28

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He shifted on his feet. “I really should get back to D.C. I left a lot of work behind?” “It’s Christmas,” Jack argued. “We still got to clean that turkey and find a tree.” He raised his voice again to the kitchen. “If the jarhead has a problem with it, he knows the way out!” Gibbs leaned in the doorway, expression neutral. “I don’t have a problem with it. You want him to stay, he stays. It’s your house.” “Damn it, Leroy?” “Only I stay too,” Gibbs continued, lifting his eyes from his father to Tony. “Okay?” Jack shrugged, but Tony could see that the older man was excited about the prospect of his son staying for Christmas. The estrangement had taken its toll. “Fine with me, but I’m not the one you slugged.” Jethro’s eyes slid towards him. “Tony?” “I really need to get going, Jack.” When Jack stood, Tony backed up. “But, thanks for this afternoon. It was fun, really. I can tell McGee all about hunting that turkey.” He looked at Gibbs, nodding stiffly. “Later, boss.” Gibbs didn’t respond as he pushed past him, heading to the staircase to collect his things. He heard Jack start yelling as he walked down the narrow hallway to the bedroom. Noise seemed to travel through the walls. Inside, he emptied the bureau Jack set-up for him and stuffed all his clothes back in his Gucci suitcase. He stared at the suitcase. What the hell made him think to accept that invitation? Stillwater fucking Pennsylvania. He could practically hear Kate laughing at him. He looked up when the bedroom door closed, Gibbs blocking it. Tony just continued shoving things in his suitcase: his favorite sandalwood soap, his toothpaste, hair cleanser and conditioner, styling cream. Pressing down on the flap, he zipped it up. As he grabbed to lift it, he nearly hit into Gibbs, who was pressed against his side. Tony refused to take a step back, and he knew that this time neither would Gibbs. He swung the suitcase off the patchwork quilt, not losing eye contact with the other man. “You’re blocking my way,” he said, hearing the edge in his own voice. Gibbs’s hand touched his elbow, and any other time, those confident hands would tame him. He pulled free, shouldering his boss to reach the door. “DiNozzo.” Tony kept walking down the narrow hall to the steep staircase, the floor boards creaking under his weight. Jack was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, a thin smile on his lips. The older man pulled him into another loose hug, but this time he wasn’t so quick to let go. Jack’s stubby, calloused hands patted the back of his neck. “You take it easy now. Call when you get back to D.C.” “I will. Thanks, Jack. Merry Christmas.” He didn’t have to look to feel the eyes boring into the back of his head. Hauling his suitcase out the front door, he shivered as his body was exposed to the cold again. His pants were still wet from falling in the snow, and he belatedly wished he’d changed in the bedroom. It was a hell of a drive to D.C. in wet underwear. Looking back at the house, he heard raised voices inside and decided that he’d change at a rest stop when he got out of Stillwater. There was no way he was going back in there, getting between father and son. He’d just pried open his car door, stiff from the cold 29

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when he heard Jack shout, “You goddamn bastard! You want to be miserable all your life?” He smiled, getting in the car. Sounded like the Gibbs he knew. He started the car and reached down to turn up the heat, rubbing his hands together. When he looked back up through the windshield, he saw Gibbs standing in front of his hood, unmoving. Feeling his anger rise, Tony blew on his horn. Gibbs just crossed his arms. Hitting the steering wheel, Tony flew out of the car, leaving it running. “What the hell is your problem?” “You, DiNozzo. Like usual.” “I’m your problem? Hey, I’m the one trying to make a dignified retreat here.” “Retreat is never dignified.” Eyes stared through him. “It’s just running away.” Tony’s hands clenched at his side. Maybe he would take a swing. “My father likes you. He’ll give me hell if I chase you away.” “Tough. Now, get out from the front of my car.” Gibbs just gave him a silent, challenging stare. Tony fumed. “I will run you over, boss! And Vance will clear it because he knows anyone dealing with you would be justified for homicide. Hell, he’ll promote me!” He turned away, bracing his hands on his open car door. Gibbs would stand there until they both froze of hypothermia. Making a decision, he turned to face the other man again. “Fine, I’ll stay, but you have to give me something as well.” “Name it.” His stomach knotted up again and he suddenly wanted to vomit in Jack’s holly bushes. “I want a transfer. Somewhere warm—Southwest.” Gibbs’s eyes darkened. “No.” “That’s my offer.” “You don’t get it.” Tony stepped closer. “Then I’ll quit. Despite what you may think, there are a lot of agencies who would just love to get their hands on me.” He smirked. “FBI, for one.” “Fornell?” Gibbs shouted, his body tense. “Fornell’s tried recruiting you?” “He’s a resourceful man.” Tony twisted the knife. “And the FBI does have a certain appeal.” “They’re a bunch of suits,” Gibbs growled. “At least people know what the letters stand for,” he shot back. “At least I wouldn’t be dealing with you.” Gibbs took a breath, hands on his waist. “Fine. I’ll consider it. You’ll stay?” “Oh, no. You don’t get off that easy. This isn’t a negotiation. I want your word.” Gibbs’s jaw clenched. “I’ll look into it.” Tony snorted, giving a mock laugh. “You can’t do it, can you? You can’t just swallow your pride and let me make my own decisions.” He shook his head. “Fine, since

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you’re only ‘considering’ it, I’ll only stay long enough to find the damn tree and then I’m gone. Comprende?” Tony slammed the car door, not even bothering to bring in his luggage. He wouldn’t be staying that long. “So where do we buy a tree?” At that, Gibbs smiled.

Jack had loaned Tony a pair of too big insulated snow pants, thick socks, boots he had in the store, and a heavy coat. Gibbs came down from one of the bedrooms, bundled up in a similar fashion with a black knit cap on his head. As he was putting on his gloves, he glanced at his father. Whatever passed between them remained a mystery although Tony guessed it had a lot to do with him. Jack saw them out the backdoor, reminding Tony to stay within sight of ‘Leroy’. It was beginning to get dark, and it was easy to get lost in the forest. He also promised to have the turkey cleaned by time they got back. Tony followed Gibbs to the tree-line, both of them carrying axes on their shoulders. He grimaced as he trudged through the snow for the second time that day. Seriously, what was wrong with these people? Didn’t they know the joy of buying things? “Keep up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs ordered, and Tony realized that he’d started to fall behind. He couldn’t help it though. He was cold and tired, his shoulders still ached from carrying around that rifle earlier and they burned now carrying the axe. If he was home, he’d go to his favorite club, dance just long enough to get someone interested, and then have sex, preferably there or at a nearby hotel. Then, he’d head home, sated by a good sexual release, and sleep the rest of the weekend. His mind on other pleasurable activities, he didn’t realize Gibbs had stopped until he plowed into him. Gibbs braced himself against a tree to keep his balance. Tony fell back against the frozen ground, his tailbone aching and his pants wet. Again. He groaned, holding a hand to his lower back. Gibbs came over to help him up, looking almost amused. “It’s not funny,” Tony snapped, gritting his teeth. He tried rubbing his tailbone through his thick snow pants. “I think I broke my butt.” Tony froze when Gibbs laughed. He very rarely laughed, really laughed, and then usually only Abby could get a chuckle out of him. “It’s not funny,” he repeated. “That really hurt.” He realized that Gibbs had hauled him up, their bodies flush together as his boss kept an arm around his waist. Tony stilled, inches away from Gibbs’s face. His cheeks were just slightly red and warm puffs of air warmed his face. His eyes were almost happy. “Want me to kiss it better?” Gibbs asked, staring at him, too close. But Tony didn’t laugh because of the way Gibbs was looking at him. He wondered what would happen if he said yes. Shaking his head, he stepped back, the pain only a dull throb now. “Why’d you stop anyway?” Gibbs pointed at the ground with a stick. “Animal tracks.” He blinked, looking over Gibbs’s shoulder. “Coyotes?” 31

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Gibbs smirked, breaking the stick in half, standing. “Nope.” When Tony tried imagining the animal, Gibbs said casually, “Bear.” “Bear? There are bears in this forest? Bears?” “No lions or tigers though.” A small smile and the other man started moving again. He stilled at the movie reference. He never saw Gibbs as a Wizard of Oz type of guy. Running his hand over his face to warm his nose and cheeks, Tony wondered if Kelly liked the movie. He imagined Gibbs watching it with her, more than once probably, hating it each time. She would bounce around the living room, and he’d sit on the sofa smiling. Shannon would probably watch them from the kitchen. He came to a halt when he noticed Gibbs staring at him again. “You okay?” He shrugged, not feeling ‘okay’ at all. “Just cold.” Gibbs accepted the answer, staring up at the sky. “It’s going to be dark soon. The evergreens are right over that hill.” Tony groaned. Of course they were over the hill, which meant they’d be hauling it up hill to get it back to the house. His body wanted to protest, but he forced his legs to move. “Sure, great. I just love chopping down trees in the wilderness.” Gibbs just shook his head, leading them to a clearing where thousands of evergreens grew. Tony let his axe hang at his side. He’d never seen so many trees before in all different sizes. Growing up, his family only used artificial trees because they were cleaner. Ever since he left home, he always bought a fresh tree. He liked to think it wasn’t out of spite. Usually, he’d go to a tree lot in the city, where they unloaded them off of large freight trucks. The branches were often bent or broken, and their needles were always quick to fall out. But they were real and smelled nice. He’d rush home and screw it into its tree stand, filling the basin with water. He liked to think it perked up after that, kind of like Linus and his favorite blanket. Gibbs waved a hand in front of his face. “Well, which one do you want?” Tony blinked. “Why do I get to pick? Which one would Jack like?” “DiNozzo, pick one.” Gibbs grimaced, rubbing his hands together. It was the first time Tony realized Gibbs was cold too. It gave him an odd confidence. He walked up to the first group of trees. One had a bird’s nest, another smelled like an animal peed on it. Many were crooked. Tony was beginning to think he’d got a better deal at the tree lot. And then he saw it. Beautifully cone shaped, full on all sides. He grinned, testing its needles. Nothing fell out. “I found it!” Gibbs came over with his axe, taking a long look at it. It was brilliant. It was perfect. “It’s too big.” “It is not! Boss, it’ll look great by the fireplace.” “We’ll never get it through the door!” Okay, so maybe it was a bit big, but what was the point of chopping down your own tree, carrying it up a hill, across the frozen tundra, if it couldn’t be larger than life? His eyes were already searching for a more practical choice when he heard the bark snap. Looking at his tree, he watched as Gibbs took a slice into the trunk, cracking it. 32

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“Well, you helping me or not?” “I thought you said it was too big.” “It is,” Gibbs grunted, swinging the axe again. “Now, start chopping or I’ll make you carry the damned thing back yourself.” As they chopped down the tree, Tony considered that this was Gibbs’s way of a peace offering. It was nice, but not enough. Not by a long shot. When the tree gave its last crack, it started to fall, landing flush in the snow. He couldn’t help his grin. He’d done a lot of things in his life: crazy things, sexy things, definitely some stupid things, but this—this was cool. “It’s a tree,” Gibbs barked, his nose and cheeks red, “stop looking like you want to hump it.” Tony laughed, running over to where it fell, which wasn’t easy in the knee-deep snow. “Did you see it fall like that? God, I’ve seen it in the movies, but I didn’t expect it to be so?” “Tree-like?” Tony shot him a sour look. “Loud. I was going to say loud.” Gibbs just rolled his eyes, but it was more affectionate than annoyed. He stooped to lift the front half of the tree, Tony picking up the freshly cut trunk. They carried it together between the rows of evergreens and up the hill. Pushing and panting, they made it to the top, and Tony started to relax as they trudged through the familiar forest. It wasn’t so scary now, even as the sun began to set. It was quiet, with only the occasional bird or squirrel scurrying on the ground, searching for food. Besides the threat of bears, it was nice—peaceful. He grinned when he noticed Gibbs’s end of the tree starting to sag. In front of him, his boss’s arms were clearly strained. “You know,” he said, a smile in his voice, “we can take a rest if you need it, considering your age and all.” Gibbs’s back stiffened and the front end of the tree was instantly raised. “Worry about yourself, DiNozzo.” “What do I have to worry about, boss? I shot a turkey today, chopped down my first tree, got a transfer to somewhere warm. I always liked Phoenix. You think Vance would approve Phoenix?” “You’re not going to Phoenix.” “Sure, I am. We made a deal. A tree for a transfer.” Tony hefted the tree up some more, feeling his muscles burn. It really was getting heavy now. Where was that damn house? When Gibbs didn’t say anything, Tony chuckled. “Come on, boss. I would’ve thought you’d be dancing the tango to get rid of me. No more movie references, no more harassing Ziva and McGee, no more Monday morning hangovers, no more hearing about all my dates.” Gibbs remained silent, so Tony took this opportunity, the two of them isolated in the forest, trapped carrying a freaking evergreen, to get some things off his chest. When would he ever have Gibbs’s undivided attention again? “I really like Jack.” “You didn’t grow up with him,” Gibbs said.

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“Maybe, but he says the weirdest things. It’s almost funny.” Regulating his tone, he continued. “For instance, he seems to think you want me here. Crazy, huh? I mean, you’ve made it clear, really, really clear that you can’t stand me.” “Right now, you’d be right,” Gibbs replied. “Just carry the damn tree.” “Why would he think that, Gibbs? Why would he think you wanted me here?” He was disappointed when Gibbs didn’t respond and even angrier that he couldn’t see the other man’s face. Here he was, giving Gibbs another chance. All he had to do was confirm what they both knew, confirm all the hidden, affectionate looks he thought Tony never saw, the concern when Tony got injured on the job. All he had to do was fucking admit that he cared. Ziva, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Jack—no one was here! No one was listening. They were alone in a fucking forest carrying the heaviest fucking evergreen in Stillwater. But he couldn’t even do that. Tony laughed bitterly, feeling his throat get tight. He wouldn’t let himself get emotional, not over Gibbs. “I see the house,” Gibbs said finally. “Great,” Tony rasped. They came up through the backyard, leaning the tree against the house. Tony’s arms felt like jelly after releasing the weight, and he rotated his shoulders. Quietly, he headed for the backdoor, intent on giving Jack his snow clothes back and then getting the hell out of Stillwater. Just as he’d reached the door, Gibbs grabbed him from behind, slamming his back against the house. Tony angrily pushed at him, but Gibbs kept him pinned in place. They were both breathing heavy, their warm air mingling together in the cold. Gibbs’s eyes were like dark ice, his features more severe against the snow and wind. He pressed Tony harder against the house, his hands fisting the coat. “You are not going to Phoenix.” It was low, barely audible, but it made Tony’s blood boil. “A tree for a transfer,” he snapped. “We had a deal.” “Not a fair deal,” Gibbs said, pressing him harder against the house. “I didn’t get what I want.” Tony swallowed, staring as Gibbs’s lips, so close now. Red and chapped from the cold. He could reach out? Gibbs’s hand grabbed his face, making him focus. “Look at me.” Tony blinked, staring at those intent eyes. Gibbs moved his body closer, pressing a thigh between Tony’s legs, forcing them to spread. Tony gasped, grabbing onto Gibbs’s shoulders, his head tilting back against the house. Gibbs’s hand grabbed his face again. “Look at me, DiNozzo!” He panted, staring at Gibbs, trying to ignore that cold thigh between his legs. “I want you.” Gibbs held his eyes as he said it, moving to brace his hands against the house, on either side of Tony’s head. “We do this, and there’s no second chances.” He reached a gloved hand between them, stroking his thumb over the seam that tented out. Tony’s hips snapped forward, pushing into Gibbs’s touch. Gibbs stopped his movement, his hand covering Tony’s clothed erection, making him fidget. He realized that Gibbs was waiting for him to regain eye contact and, as soon as he did, Gibbs’s hand tightly fisted him. He sucked in a breath as Gibbs moved closer. “We do this, DiNozzo, and no more women or men.” That last word was stressed, and he 34

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was surprised that Gibbs knew about that aspect of his social life. He kept it as quiet as possible, with only the occasional backroom fuck. “Look at me,” Gibbs barked and Tony’s eyes snapped up. “I don’t share, not this. You got that?” Tony grinned, panting. “Don’t know, boss. Never been able to find one person who could satisfy me.” Gibbs’s lips quirked up. Barely. “You’ll get plenty, Tony.” Shaking out of his stupor, Tony started rocking against that thigh again, running his hands over Gibbs’s snow-covered coat. He leaned forward, bringing their cold lips together, groaning at the wet and heat and pressure. Gibbs angled their heads, running his tongue over Tony’s lips, opening them. He groaned when Gibbs’s tongue forced its way into his mouth, feeling Gibbs touch his hair. He sucked on the tongue, surprised to feel his orgasm building. Oh, he was so not cumming in Jack’s pants! He reached down, hastily pulling at the button and zipper. Gibbs pulled away, chuckling against his lips. “You’re going to give yourself frostbite.” Tony’s thick, gloved fingers struggled to grip the zipper. He nipped at Gibbs’s lips, smirking. “Not if you sucked me off.” And Tony was surprised at the heat in those eyes. Oh God, he might do it. Gibbs used his teeth to tug off one of his gloves and then batted Tony’s hands out of his way, grabbing the zipper. Tony groaned, breathing heavy as he felt Gibbs slip a hand into his pants, palming him. Tony wasn’t sure what exactly happened next, but Gibbs’s hand was suddenly yanked out of his pants and a hard kiss was pressed against his mouth. “Hold it,” Gibbs ordered. Tony was just about to argue when he saw the backdoor open and felt little bits of?cereal hitting his coat. Jack stood on the stoop, throwing handfuls as stale Cap’n Crunch in the air, which just happened to be aimed at them. Tony watched the little golden pieces bounce off the frozen top layer of snow. “Forgot to feed the birds,” Jack muttered, giving them both a significant look. Tony flushed, pushing away from the house. Shaking his head with an obvious smirk, Gibbs reached up and picked a few wayward pieces of cereal out of Tony’s hair. “Don’t see too many birds, Dad.” Jack continued staring them down. “Figure they’re smart enough to be inside for some things.” “Sorry, Jack,” Tony said, knowing he looked guilty as hell. He walked toward the stoop, feeling Gibbs follow with a hand on his lower back. As he sidestepped Jack, he heard the older man chastise his son. “This isn’t D.C., Leroy. Folks tend to leave most things for the bedroom.” Jack stepped back for Gibbs to enter the house. With a wink, he lowered his voice, giving his son an approving slap on the back. “Boink the boy later.” Tony mouthed “boink” in Gibbs’s direction, but Gibbs just cleared his throat, walking into the house. “Thanks, Dad.” Jack shut the door, sealing in the heat from the kitchen. They took off their hats, gloves, coats, and boots, letting them dry on a mat by the door. It smelled great in the house, like cinnamon and sugar and sweet jelly. Tony noticed that feathers were strewn around the linoleum floor in scattered clumps. He couldn’t help but be glad that Jack had already ‘cleaned’ the turkey without him.

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Over at the stove, Jack looked at Tony, raising an eyebrow. Realizing the significant look, Tony flushed, looking down at himself. Okay, despite being halfway humiliated, he was still hard. He blamed it on youth. “Figure you should change those wet clothes,” Jack said kindly, giving him an out. Tony smiled, heading for the stairs. “Yeah, I’ll just go change.” As Tony made his way to the guest bedroom, Jack continued stirring something on the stove. Gibbs gave a bit of a grin and then took a seat at the table, opening the newspaper. He started to read, looking for any stories that might interest NCIS, when he realized that Jack had stopped stirring. He looked over the top of the paper, taking in his father’s flabbergasted look. “Leroy, I swear boy, if you don’t get up there and take care of him, I’ll really begin to believe you’re the stupidest son-of-a-bitch.” Gibbs gave a crooked grin, folding the paper in half. He slapped it on the table and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time.

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That Christmas Time of the Year

Ryann Blackwood

Chapter 5 Dinner was an awkward event that night, the three of them sitting around Jack’s table. Despite the turkey, potatoes, pies, and jellies being cooked all day, they ended up eating grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. The food preparation for Christmas Day was finished and stored away, with Jack declaring that he wasn’t doing any more major cooking until next year. Tony ate his sandwich in silence, licking his greasy fingers in between mouthfuls of cheese. He couldn’t look at Gibbs. The other man had been staring at him since he barged in on him in the bedroom over an hour ago. Tony wiped his fingers on a napkin, eyes catching Gibbs’s for only a second before turning away. Why did everything involving Leroy Jethro Gibbs have to be so complicated? With anyone else—anyone else, he’d still be up in that bedroom getting the fuck of his life. With Gibbs, he was eating grilled cheese and tomato soup with his father. Tony was pissed. He still didn’t know what exactly went wrong. He’d gotten the snow pants off, lying naked from the waist down on the narrow bed, his layered shirts still in place, fisting himself when the door opened. He’d just stopped stroking when he saw Gibbs staring at him from the doorway. Swallowing, hoping he wasn’t misreading the look on the other man’s face, Tony had swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, groaning as he spread the pre-cum over the swollen tip. Gibbs had stood there watching him, his hands fisting at his sides. Tony was panting, head pressed back against the crocheted pillows as he stroked himself. He raised a knee, wanting to give Gibbs a better look, hoping for come hither, but probably looking slutty. He didn’t care which. “You want to close the door?” he grinned. Gibbs just swallowed, his eyes fixed between Tony’s legs before catching his eyes. And that was when Tony knew he misread something. He watched as Gibbs turned and left the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He’d been too far gone to hold back his orgasm, even with embarrassment rushing through him. Did Gibbs see something he didn’t like? Did he change his mind? Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable with the idea of them as he’d let on. Maybe seeing the fact that Tony did indeed possess a dick, sent him running for the next red-headed Mrs. Gibbs. He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but after cleaning himself off and changing into a fresh set of clothes, Tony joined Gibbs and his father for dinner. Grilled fucking cheese and tomato soup. If Jack noticed the tension between them, he didn’t let on. As planned, after dinner, they lugged the tree into the house and set it up in front of the fireplace. It was too big, the top of the tree bending against the ceiling, but Jack just laughed, saying it looked like a tree from Dr. Seuss. Tony glared at Gibbs, daring him to comment. Gibbs seemed to possess enough sense to stay quiet. “We’ll just have to cut it down more,” Jack said, pushing the gigantic branches out of his way. “Lord, I haven’t seen a tree this big since I sent Leroy to cut one down when he was thirteen.” Gibbs and his father went to work sawing off another foot or so, and Tony began getting the wooden ornaments out of their boxes. They were mostly vintage, handpainted toy soldiers. Tony resisted the urge to crush their little muskets. When the two Gibbs men positioned the now reduced tree in front of the fireplace, Tony began 37

That Christmas Time of the Year

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to string the lights and tinsel. He noticed that Jack took special care placing the ornaments on the tree, smiling wistfully. “We got this set of ornaments as a wedding gift from my Aunt Ida,” Jack explained; he looked at Gibbs. “Your mother loved them. Always wrapped them in that damned tissue paper every year. But I guess that’s what you do when you love something.” “Imagine that,” Tony muttered, unable to stop himself. Gibbs caught his eyes, but Tony just continued putting the remaining ornaments on the tree. Jack cleared his throat, staring between them. “You boys want a drink? I think I have some whiskey in the kitchen.” “Thanks, Jack, but I think I’ll just turn in.” Tony headed to the narrow staircase. “See you in the morning.” Grabbing a few items from his suitcase, Tony headed for the house’s sole bathroom and took a quick shower, changed, and brushed his teeth. His was shivering by the time he made it back to the bedroom, wondering how the hell Jack could live without a good hot water heater. His skin sprinkled with goosebumps, he padded his way into the bedroom, shivering as he tucked himself under the homemade quilts. Even the air was colder upstairs, making his damp hair feel like ice. No wonder Gibbs grew up to be such a cold bastard. He laughed at himself, pulling the quilts up to his neck. From downstairs, he could hear the radio playing a mix of Como, Sinatra, and Cole. His entire body stilled, tremors aside, when the bedroom door opened. Tony closed his eyes, groaning as he turned to face the wall. The slim bed creaked under his weight. “Go away.” The bed dipped, creaking again, and he heard Gibbs release a terse breath. “Hell.” Tony continued to stare at the wall. “Look, boss, forget it. No harm done. It never happened.” Unable to feign sleep under the other man’s watch, Tony turned over quickly, crumpling the quilts at his waist. He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed at Gibbs’s neutral expression. “I get it, really. I offered; you turned me down. Fine. I’m not going to turn into some chick and cry, okay? Just go to sleep, and we’ll figure it out in the morning.” When Tony moved to face the wall again, Gibbs’s arm caught his elbow, halting him. “It’s been a long time for me.” Tony’s jaw clenched. “Sure, I’ll remember to talk to one of your ex-wives about that.” “You’re not listening, Dinozzo,” Gibbs said, staring at him pointedly. “It’s been a long time.” Since Shannon. Tony felt a weight settle in his stomach. Since Shannon. He swallowed, not knowing what to say under the unspoken confession. “You know my personality better than anyone. I can be demanding, insensitive, and a hell of a bastard when I want to.” Gibbs’s eyes locked onto him. Even in the dark, Tony could see the intensity in them. “But you didn’t know me when I was with her. I was protective, possessive, and vindictive to anyone who hurt her. I don’t know if that’s how I was because she was my first love or a woman, but I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” With you. “You need to be sure this is really what you want. 38

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We do this, and you’re mine. I wasn’t joking earlier.” Gibbs took a breath, looking out the frozen glass of the paned window. “I can’t go through that again.” Tony’s heart picked up speed, making his chest tight at the thought of what was being offered. “Boss, we both know there are no assurances in our work. I mean, something could happen to either one of us. I could get shot?” “You won’t.” Tony let out a nervous laugh at Gibbs’s dark look. “Well, as long as we have that cleared up.” “You get shot, Tony, and I wouldn’t be much after.” The other man’s lips quirked up slightly at the edges. “After I strangled the son-of-a-bitch, of course.” His face sobered, staring down at the blankets. “Like I said, I can’t go through that again.” Tony reached a hand out, cupping Gibbs’s jaw. His skin was cold to the touch, and Tony felt guilty for complaining about the cold under the warmth of the quilts. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Gibbs’s cool cheek, feathering touches across his face until Jethro turned to meet his lips. They paused, assessing each other, lips nearly touching. “Don’t screw with me,” Gibbs warned. Tony grinned, moving forward enough to nip at Gibbs’s bottom lip. “Thought you could screw me instead.” He released a shout as he was pushed back against the mattress, lips claiming his mouth as rough hands moved up his sides and yanked at his shirt, exposing skin. The kiss was hard and demanding and the hands were insistent, pressing into him and grabbing whatever they could. His head hit the pillow when Jethro pressed hard kisses down his neck, calloused fingers toying with his nipples. Jethro pulled back to observe his work and Tony knew he looked debauched. Swollen lips, bites on his neck, nipples pert and red. “So, I guess you like what you see?” Jethro just grunted, sucking a nipple into his mouth, before kissing his way down the exposed stomach. He shoved Tony’s legs apart, hands massaging his thighs. He moaned, his hand grabbing Jethro’s head, tightening on his hair and trying to push him down to where he wanted him. Before he knew what was happening, he was flipped over onto his stomach, Gibbs’s flannel shirt pressed up against his naked back. When he tried to look over his shoulder, Jethro pressed a hand between his shoulder blades, pinning him. “Keep your hands on the pillow.” Tony swallowed, but did as ordered. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re bossy in bed?” “Complaining?” Gibbs asked, his hands caressing Tony’s ass, running along the crack. Tony barked out a laugh as he felt Gibbs massage a finger over the rim of his hole. “No, no complaints, boss.” Tony heard the snap of a container and then felt one finger pressing into him. He grunted pressing back against the digit, trying to screw himself down on it. Gibbs chuckled behind him, pressing his free hand against the small of Tony’s back, keeping him in place. 39

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“Fuck me,” Tony demanded, moving his hips against the mattress for friction. Gibbs covered his back again, sucking hard on his neck. “That what you need, Tony? You need release?” Tony panted into his pillow when a second finger traced the rim of his hole, not pentrating. “You know I want it!” He pressed back against the fingers, intent to fuck himself, if needed. Suddenly, Gibbs forced the two fingers into him, stretching him wide. His grip on the pillow tightened as the fingers scrissored, barely giving him time to adjust before a third finger was added. Tony groaned at the fullness, at the fact that Gibbs never once relented from his rhythm. There was no time to adjust, just the steady continous fucking he wanted. “Get up on your knees,” Gibbs grunted. “I want to see you.” Tony struggled to the position, his legs barely responding as he propped himself up. Gibbs never stopped fucking him, so it was hard to comprehend what he was being asked. Finally, those fingers stopped, and Tony squirmed when he felt a thumb running over his swollen, stretched hole. He eyes widened and he started to panic. “I’ve never taken more before,” he croaked. “It’s okay,” Gibbs assured. “That’s not what this is. Let me see you.” Tony didn’t understand at first, and then flushed when he did. “Gibbs?” “Please.” Blushing, he reached his hands around and pried apart his cheeks, knowing he was completely exposed now. He yelped when the fingers started moving again, pressing into him hard and fast. Gibbs’s breathing hitched as he pounded his fingers forward. “Do you know what you look like? Your hole clenching around me, all red.” Tony bit into his pillow, praying Jack was a heavy sleeper. A hand reached under him and fisted his cock, jerking him off. He panted as he felt his balls massaged and played with and the calloused fingers spread the pre-cum around his swollen head. He came with a cry, his hips pistoning into Gibbs’s grip, fucking the offered hand. The fingers in his ass never relented, hitting his prostate with each pass. He continued to grind back on the digits until he heard Gibbs chuckle and gently pull back. He was in a daze, awash in pleasure, when he realized that Gibbs was across the room wiping his hand on a towel. Tony rolled on his side, sweat running down his face, his body no longer cold. He watched as Gibbs wiped his hand and then walked over to the bed again, cleaning the mess from Tony’s stomach. “Get up. We’ll share my bed.” When Tony didn’t respond, Gibbs gave him an amused look. “Unless you like sleeping in the wet spot.” Tony blinked, taking everything in. He just started to push himself up when he realized that Gibbs never came. Staring at the man’s tented pants, he felt a rush of embarrassment. If there was one thing Anthony DiNozzo was renown for, it was being a generous lover. “You didn’t fuck me.” “Nope.” Jethro pulled back the blankets of the second twin and motioned Tony forward. Tony grabbed at Gibbs’s crotch as he passed, kissing his neck. “Let me take care of this.” 40

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Jethro kissed him slowly, forcing his tongue between his lips, warm and steady. “Get some sleep.” Angry now, Tony started to panic. Was this just a pity fuck? Why couldn’t he recipicate? Gibbs just looked amused. “I like morning sex,” he explained. “Good sex and then a long run. The only thing I do at night is sand boats.” It was a little odd, but then Gibbs was a little odd. Tony accepted the answer, watching Jethro get comfortable on the bed. Smiling, he suddenly moved to his Gucci suitcase, glad Jack had brought it in earlier from the cold. Unzipping the luggage, he pulled out Abby’s Christmas present, opening the package. Gibbs raised an eyebrow as Tony approached with the plug. He kissed Gibbs, placing the plug in his hand. The other man looked down at it, shifting. “Tony?” “Put it in me,” he said, kissing Gibbs’s neck, stroking his chest. “I want it.” Gibbs looked at the sex toy, shaking his head. “I told you before, I don’t need toys.” Tony smirked. “Just think about it. I’ll already be lubed up and stretched.” Jethro stared at the toy again, and Tony knew he already won. Moving to the bottom of the bed, Tony kneeled, spreading his cheeks apart in preparation. “Christ,” Jethro breathed, running a hand over his backside. “You sure?” “Do it. Now.” Tony groaned as the plug was inserted, feeling his hole stretch wider than ever to accomidate it. Gibbs stopped halfway though when his thighs started to tremble. “Tony? You okay?” Tony panted, groaning at the thickness. Maybe this wasn’t such as good idea. What the hell was Abby thinking? “Goddman it,” Gibbs grunted. “Forget it. I’m taking it out.” “No,” Tony gasped, trying to force himself open. “Just?just give me a minute.” Through sheer will, he relaxed enough for Gibbs to press the plug the rest of the way in, his hole greedily swallowing the entire girth. Sweat dripped down his back as he tried to adjust to the fullness, as Jethro rubbed his lower back. “You look good like this,” Jethro croaked and Tony shuddered as Gibbs ran a finger around the stretched rim of his asshole. He felt a little silly, to be honest, with this monster plug between his legs. Trying not to jostle it, he returned to the head of the bed, settling down for the night. Gibbs was careful as he pressed up against his back, running a hand along his side and over his hip. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t know what time it was when he felt a hand moving over his stomach. A kiss was placed on the back of his neck and a whispered “Merry Christmas” was spoken into his skin. He smiled and turned enough to share a kiss, loving the feel and warmth of Gibbs. “Can I?” Tony smiled as he felt fingers gently sweep over the lines of his ass. An erection pressed against him. “Knock yourself out.” He bit his lip, grabbing onto the pillow again as Jethro played with the plug, running his fingers over the swollen rim, moving it lazily in and out of his body. He groaned 41

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when the intensity increased, pressing harder and deeper into him, hitting against his prostate. Gibbs fucked him with the toy until Tony was ready to come a part, spreading his legs and humping back against the fake dick. He was just about to come, pressing his cock into the sheets when the pressure suddenly stopped and the plug was removed. He gasped, feeling utterly empty. He panted, searching for breath, as he looked to Gibbs for answers. Gibbs just smiled, running a finger over his lips. Tony sucked on the finger, watching the other man’s eyes darken. Gibbs lifted the blanket, exposing his erection and then cupped Tony behind the back on the neck, guiding him down until he swallowed it whole. Tony moaned around the cock in his mouth; he’d thought about this for so long, the smell and feel. He knew he was good at sucking dick, and he did everything he could to drive Gibbs wild. He spent time lapping at the swollen head, mouthing his balls, and then swallowing entirely, constricting his throat muscles. Through it all, Gibbs just stroked his head, giving praise. Sometime it was “that’s real good, Tony.” Other times he’d comment on what he liked. It was almost like Gibbs knew he needed the affirmation. When Gibbs tapped his cheek, he pulled back, his mouth smeared with saliva and pre-cum. Settling back against the bed, Gibbs shifted between his thighs, pressing a finger into him before deciding he was ready. Tony canted his hips up, ready for the penetration when he felt Gibbs’s hand on his face. They locked eyes, Gibbs stroking his cheek. Tony ran a hand up the other man’s side, pulling him closer. “Do it,” he urged, stealing another kiss. Gibbs swallowed, looking between them. “Just?don’t expect too much. It’s been a while.” Since Shannon. “Are you kidding?” Tony laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “I haven’t gotten it this good in forever.” Gibbs shook his head in amusement, pressing his hips forward enough to enter Tony’s body. Just barely. Gibbs waited for him to adjust before pushing the rest of the way in with one stroke. They moved together, both giving and receiving as they loved each other’s sweaty bodies. Gibbs collapsed his face against Tony’s shoulder as his hips continued their steady rhythm, pressing into Tony’s depths, leaving no part of him unclaimed. Tony stroked his hair, moaning at every press against his prostate, tightening his thighs around his lover’s waist. Gibbs stared at him, taking his lips in a slow kiss, matching the movement of his hips. Tony would never say anything about it, but he pretended to look away when he saw the faint glimmer of moisture on Jethro’s cheeks. This was his catharsis after so many years. There would be no more boats to build and burn. No more wives to replace the one he lost. As Tony ran a hand up Jethro’s sweaty back, soothing him in a way he knew words wouldn’t be welcomed, he wondered if Shannon was here, in this room, giving Jethro his reprieve. Shannon and Kelly would no longer be the sacred memories, hidden in the shadows of his tortured mind, but embraced and loved and released. Tony gasped as Jethro’s movements became erratic, pounding into him. Jethro reached for him, bringing him off just as his final release came. Those hips slammed forward several more times, warmth flooding his insides. His thighs quivered and ached as he eased them down to the bed. Jethro swallowed, closing his eyes to calm himself. “Gee, boss, not too rusty at all.” 42

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“Call me Jethro. I’m not your boss in bed.” “Could’ve fooled me.” The other man laughed, tapping his hip. “Let me check you. I got a little rough at the end.” “I’m fine.” Lifting an eyebrow, Gibbs waited until Tony rolled over, grumbling. Jethro spread his cheeks, eyeing the sore hole before nodding, giving a slap to Tony’s ass. “You’re good.” Tony yelped at the slap, shifting away. “No spanking.” “I don’t know. It might do some good. You might actually listen to me for once.” As if to prove his point, Gibbs leveled another sharp slap at his cheeks again. Tony glared at the sting, getting out of bed. Gibbs just laughed. “Even better than head slaps.” After fighting over who got the bathroom first (Tony won), they dressed and headed downstairs, not surprised that Jack was already reading the morning paper. Jack had finished decorating after they went to bed the night before, and the house was full of red and green. A wreath hung on the kitchen backdoor next to a large sign that read: “Steal Santa’s presents, and I’ll shoot.” The clock radio on the linoleum counter was playing a static-laced version on “Jingle Bells.” On the kitchen table was draped a Christmas tablecloth with little elves and reindeer. There were even two gigantic Santa cookie jars by the microwave. Everything was all so completely tacky—and Tony absolutely loved it. Jack sipped his coffee, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. “Merry Christmas, boys. Looks like two someones had a good night.” Gibbs just shot his father a look before pouring a cup of coffee. Tony couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He ate two servings of eggs, bacon, sausage, and even tried a slice of scrapple. It was all better than anything he could get in D.C. “Slow down, DiNozzo, there’s plenty left.” “Leave the boy alone, Leroy,” Jack admonished. “It’s been too long since I had someone to cook for.” Tony wiped his fingers on a napkin. “These eggs are so good.” “They should be,” Jethro said, sipping his coffee. “The farm’s only over a mile away.” Tony stared down at his plate. “Probie would love this place.” Jethro rolled his eyes. “Just try finishing your breakfast without choking.” Jack scraped the remainder of the eggs onto Tony’s plate before setting the pan in the sink. He wiped his hands on a dishrag, clearing his throat. “I’m real glad you’re liking it here. Why you boys might decide to come up and visit again.” Jack eyed Gibbs. “You know the cabin is still in your name, Leroy. I’ve kept the place up.” Gibbs gave his father a look, set down his coffee, and then grabbed his coat, heading outside. Tony stopped eating, staring at Jack. “What cabin?” Jack sighed. “Nothing, Tony. Finish eating. I’m a foolish, old man, that’s all.” Tony put down his fork. “Jack, what cabin?”

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“I never should have brought it up being Christmas and all. Damn it.” He waved a hand. “I just figured that with things finally moving along between you two, I might get to see more of you and Leroy after today.” “Gibbs has a cabin?” “Up in the forest.” Jack rubbed at his eyes. “That place where you chopped down the tree—that land belongs to Leroy. There’s a cabin not far from those evergreens.” “He owns it?” “It was a gift from his grandfather?on his wedding day.” Jack shrugged. “Of course, Leroy had gone and enlisted with the Marines, so Shannon and him never got a chance to live in the place. He always hated Stillwater anyway. I’ve kept it up all these years, making sure it was ready for him if he ever came back to claim it. Figured he might want it now—because of you.” Tony tried to smile. “That’s nice of you.” “Not really. More selfish than anything.” He sighed. “I know Gibbs men don’t tend to say much, but I’ve missed my boy. I even thought about relocating to D.C. to be closer, but he wouldn’t want me there. Besides, this is my home.” Tony stood, wiping his mouth. “Let me find him?” Jack gave a sad grin. “He’ll be at the train platform. It holds special meaning to him. Damned if I know.” It was still snowing as Tony made his way outside, bundled in a coat and hat. He couldn’t see much in the white overcast, not until he made his way closer to the train platform, where the polished wood and brass stood out among the provincial landscape. Sitting on one of the snow-covered benches was Jethro, just staring out at the frozen tracks. Tony hesitated, not sure whether he should sit down. Finally, Jethro moved his hand and pushed the snow off the bench next to him. The bench was cold and it tingled the back of his thighs like little needles. “So, you have a cabin? That’s kinda cool. It’s like that movie where the giant alligator?” Jethro gave him a slightly amused look. “No alligators around here.” Tony nodded before perking up. “Then it’s Legends of the Fall, complete chick flick, with the bear?the one that ate Brad Pitt?” Gibbs brought a hand up, dusting the snow off Tony’s shoulder. “What am I going to do with you?” “I can think of a few things,” Tony leered. “A couple I know you do well.” “It was never my cabin. It was her cabin.” Tony hesitated. “Jack said it was a wedding gift.” “Wouldn’t have gotten it without marrying her. She never got to see it though.” Tony sighed. “Look, if you don’t want the cabin or the land, then just sign it over to your dad. I don’t think he cares about the cabin. He just wants you around more.” Gibbs continued looking out at the tracks, and Tony wondered if he was even listening. “And what about you, Tony? What do you want?”

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Those eyes leveled on him, and Tony felt stupid for thinking Gibbs wasn’t paying attention. This was Gibbs, after all. He rubbed his chapped hands together. “Me? Well, right now, I want to go inside and get one of the hot cocoas, you know the ones with the little marshmallows. I love those. Tonight, I want more sex.” He gave a cheeky grin before wincing as he shifted. “Just not so much. Tomorrow, I want to go home and bug Ziva and McGee. They’re totally jealous.” Gibbs shook his head at that. “Beyond that, who knows? I could step onto a bus wired to explode, like Speed. Sandra Bullock could drive. That’d be cool.” “Real deep, DiNozzo.” Tony rubbed a stiff hand over his nose. “What do you want me to say? I haven’t had a real relationship, undercover not counting, that lasted beyond two months. You—” Tony laughed. “You keep marrying the same bad dye job. I don’t think we’re ready for matching towels, boss.” “What are we ready for then?” Tony shrugged, standing. It was too cold. “I like movies. We could see a movie, maybe go to a football game.” Gibbs snorted. “Dating? You want me to date you?” “If that means being seen with me outside a bedroom and NCIS, then yeah. I want dating. No flowers though. I’d hate to be called high-maintenance.” A shake of his head and Gibbs’s lips quirked up. “Good thing I already got movie tickets then.” “You did? When?” “Abby.” Gibbs stood, standing too close. “It was my Christmas present.” Tony frowned. “She gave you movie tickets? Why would?” Then his eyes lifted. “Damn, she’s good.” “Wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t have hired any of my people unless they were damn near perfect.” Tony wasn’t sure what to say under the compliment. Perfect? Him? If it wasn’t for Gibbs’s serious expression, Tony would’ve thought he grew a sense of humor. He just shrugged with a cocky smile. “About time you recognized my perfection, boss. Just make sure to tell it to Ziva and McGee. They haven’t seen the light.” When Tony started for the steps, Jethro grew sober and ran his ungloved hand over the back of the bench. Tony watched silently as that hand caressed the wood. Jethro took in a final breath and clenched the top of the bench, staring out at the tracks. His eyes were clear, and Tony wondered what he was remembering, even if he could guess. He suddenly wondered what Shannon must have looked like, sitting here, waiting for a train out of Stillwater. “It’s been too long,” Jethro said at last, voice strained. “You rest easy.” He patted the wood again, swallowing. Gibbs walked toward him, stepping down the platform steps. Tony was surprised when Gibbs’s hand reached down and squeezed his, briefly. “Merry Christmas, boss.” 45

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“We’ll finish up with my father today and then we’ll head home.” “Home?” Jethro just smiled. “I have a boat to burn.”

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