piwrit_queen

Phobic

piwrit_queen — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 12:24:36 GMT

And she said let there be fic!! And there was!

Title: Phobic
Rating: PG-13ish
Warmings: vaguest if-you-squint spoiler for something minor in S7.
Summary:

It's not that Tony's afraid; he's a seasoned field agent with kills and ops and the pneumonic plague and Jethro Gibbs for a boss under his belt.

There's just not that much else to be afraid of.

He knows a lot of his behavior in the bullpen screams Look! Look at me, pay attention to me! See what I did? Love me more! like he never did as a child. And the ~~best~~ worst part is that Gibbs, in that way of his, does.

Every headslap, eyebrow raise, sly hidden almost grin (a Gibbs-equivalent of a Probie LOL) are his versions of I know, DiNozzo. (maybe sometimes he just says it), I'm watching/listening/amazed and vaguely disgusted by that bodily function.

There's affection, too, that Tony chooses to interpret as You know you're my favorite even though you need kept in line regularly.

So when Gibbs' eyes go a little dark in the elevator, and when they keep the press of their erections a secret when they train in the NCIS gym, and when it's Tony that gets caught looking... He still faces forward.

Because as much as Tony loves him (and he does. A lot. He's mostly at peace with the disturbing amount of love he has for Gibbs) he also has no delusions.

Gibbs is in great shape; no six pack or manscaping, and he's a bastard whether or not he's been recently caffeinated, has some scary scars and more emotional baggage than he and Ziva combined.

He knows Gibbs respects himself, the team and Tony too much to fuck his second. And even if he didn't and they... ya know, did, Gibbs would push him away, run him down and shut him out till all the affection and caring and touches had dried up and disappeared.

So really, that's all he's got left to fear: losing that hand at the back of his head, laughing blue eyes and a beer tapped against his with an amen for secrets best left kept.

He's not sad when he goes home alone, kind of buzzed with a gruff warning still in his ears to be careful. It might not seem like a lot to someone else, but it's enough for Tony.

More than he's ever had before. And more than he's willing to risk.

Broken Mirrors. I got glue.

piwrit_queen — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 12:10:36 GMT

Okay, if anyone is still interested (besides chirugal and onlyonechoice) Amy has been insistently persistent and gotten my juices flowing again regarding Broken Mirrors. I know it's been a year and I feel badly for stepping away when I got involved in Tony/Gibbs, and getting my own shit together.

TLDR; shit together, Mirrors gettin' fixed. Expect fic.

I appreciate all the love Mirrors got and I hope someone remembers it! lol

Regarding Broken Mirrors

piwrit_queen — Sat, 09 May 2009 16:05:35 GMT

Okay guys, I've owed you this explanation for a while, so here it goes.

Broken Mirrors is not abandoned. Repeat.

Not abandoned.

It still has a home and I love it very much.

That being said, things are... hard right now in real life for me, a little harder than they've ever been before, so I am dealing with them the best that I can.

While I truly appreciate all the love you've shown my fic, and I really realize that you all deserve a resolution as much as Gibbs and Shelby/Abby do, I can't give it the kind of attention and quality I feel like my baby deserves. Mirrors came out of a really bad place in my life, and I don't think Abby can resolve hers till I deal with mine.

If that makes sense. Writing Mirrors takes more out of me than I have to give right now. Right now, I feel like Abby in chapter nine.

In any case, I don't want to sound ungrateful for the nudges, the well-wishes, LJ-camp-outs, every single comment or silent reader of Mirrors, or any of my other pieces. I appreciate the fandom, and the kind, intelligent, fascinating people it's brought into my life this year, who have all made me smile, and not one been rude or judgemental.

So. I guess that's it.

Weighted Scales, a Gibbs/DiNozzo fic with onlyonehoice

piwrit_queen — Sat, 02 May 2009 06:14:47 GMT

Title: Weighted Scales
Authors: onlyonechoice and piwrit_queen
Rating: Show me your ID's kiddies. NC-17, ahoy!
Summary: Post-"Chained", Tony is not okay.
Pairing: Gibbs/Tony

Excerpt:

It wasn't immediately obvious to him, even though he'd done it more than a dozen times: he wasn't out of his head-space yet. He was still stuck, a man who'd liked Jeffrey, slippery little psycho-killing shit that he was, and it bothered him.

He hadn't had the time to unwind, to come back down yet. He was clean-shaven, but his two-thousand dollar suit felt as awkward as an off-the-rack Sears two-for-one deal. He hadn't touched his mother's ugly vase, listened to Nina Simone, or watched any kind of movie.

He usually touched everything in his apartment when he got back, showered it all off, and stared into the mirror till he could see himself again.

Gibbs had made him get checked out. By the time he was done, he'd been too exhausted, too drugged by whatever the fuck was in that whiskey, too soul-fucking-weary from having to use that goddamn weapon again, that he had simply chained the door behind him and slept.

He was paying for it now.

He knew he was too-sharp, too-fierce, too-brittle, and it was showing. He was just hoping Gibbs didn't touch him.

He knew enough to know he couldn't really handle it. As comforting as the gesture would have been to him a few days ago... Right now everything was a little too much. He was snarling at McGee instead of baiting him, eying Kate warily instead of flirtatiously.

~*~*~

Gibbs had taken care of the wrap-up while Tony was getting checked out. He'd dealt with the complaint against McGee, made sure the evidence was cataloged and Kate's arrest report was on his desk. Procedure and protocol helped him deal with the thought that he could have been telling Ducky that he didn't have to handle an autopsy on one of their own.

The boat and the bourbon had been a cold comfort, but were still a soothing enough routine that he could relax enough to sleep. Even then, he'd gotten up with the sun and stared into his morning coffee for too long before heading to the Navy Yard.

Undercover work was never easy, even for a social chameleon like Tony. He should have told him to take the rest of the week, but he also knew that idleness would probably drive him crazy until he could come back to work. He might have found reassurance in the idea of Tony being at work this morning, until the elevator doors opened and he saw McGee glare at Tony on his way to the rear elevator.

"Hope he's on his way to work up the rest of this case, DiNozzo," he said, glancing over at Tony on the way to his desk. Kate glanced over at him, concern in her gaze as she looked between them, then bent her head to whatever work she was doing.

She tossed her hair, hoping to give him just a little opening. "Find your dog, Tony?" She gave him a saccharine smile complete with eyelash batting.

Tony just slammed his coffee cup down an clicked on his monitor. "Bitch ran off before I could beat her for running scared in the first place."

Holding her tongue with Tony was never really a trait she cultivated, so when she wanted to, she found it difficult, especially after how much she had worried, and here he was, being a jerk. "Screw you, Tony."

The smile he threw her was diamond bright and just as hard. "Sounds good to me, Kate," he bit off, "You're the only one here who hasn't yet."

She looked warily at Gibbs, his knuckles suspiciously white on the pen he was holding, and lowered her voice as she spoke across the space between their desks. "Look. I'm... sorry, okay? I was just... we were all really worr-"

Tony slammed his chair back and stood, cutting her off with an abrupt hand. "Save it, alright? I'm fine." He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath that didn't relax the tension in his shoulders at all.

"This cup had to be the bottom of the pot, tastes like mud. Be back." The words were right, he knew... but the tone was all wrong.

Gibbs stood up to follow him, not sure whether he was going to just talk to him or send him home for the rest of the day. Whatever he did, it had to happen now, or the others would be just as jumpy and useless to him as--

--he pushed that to the back of his mind as he caught up with Tony at the stairs. "Something on your mind, Tony?" He knew there was; his shoulders were so stiff he was going to be sore later, and his jaw was clenched tight. Something had to give. He just had to make sure the fallout was contained when it happened.

Tony bit back his guttural response, but only barely. He was supposed to have "share-time" with Gibbs? Gibbs! After that stunning show of support last night? Of course not. This was just Gibbs' was of telling him he'd noticed, to pull it together. To be the job. He could be the job.

If he could get his eyes under control, he could pull off the day. Spend a little time with Abby, blow it off when he got home, and run till the op fell away like the pavement under his feet. He'd come home, get reacquainted with his face and his life again, and he'd have the DiNozzo mask back in place for the morning.

"Is there ever?" He swung an empty smile at his boss, hand anxiously closed around the stairwell door handle. "Didn't sleep so well. Gonna make a coffee run. You want?"

There. That was the perfect blend of bachelor-stupid and lapdog Gibbs would recognize. He added a half-interested eyebrow arch to seal the deal.

Gibbs saw the white-knuckled grip on the handle of the door and followed the tense line of Tony's arm back to all that bravado. Now that he'd shaved he could see the thin red line under his chin. Such a small thing, but it practically screamed at him, shouting to anyone who saw it about how close Gibbs had come to losing him.

The boat had borne the brunt of his frustration the night before, which kept him from telling Abby, Kate and McGee how they'd had a part in this. The bourbon had eased the weight on his shoulders, and he'd slept without dreaming of arriving too late.

That line would scar. He'd have the reminder, and that was enough to keep him from snapping back at Tony. He watched him instead, his gaze shifting from that line to his eyes as he waited for more false reassurances.

Anything to keep him from reaching out to touch that line.

Tony waited out the awkward silence with a politely puzzled look on his face. He finally brought up a hand, swept it over his mouth, chin and cheeks. "Muffin crumbs? Sorry. The blueberry was too good to pass up, Boss. Gotta try one. You can even tell Ducky you ate fruit."

Christ, what was he looking at? He had the overwhelming urge to shove the ex-Marine hard in the chest and ask what the fuck he expected. What he wanted. See if it was like pushing a concrete wall. He already knew it was. He couldn't help the flashing of his eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils. It was too raw and too close to the surface today.

He kept the affable smile, as he watched his boss's eyes snag on the cut on his throat. He flexed his hand on the knob, then turned it. He had to go, gogogogo, now. "Gotta head out before the suits flood the coffee shop."

Gibbs didn't even process the chatter. All he heard was the hesitance behind it and knew that Tony was still one step removed. All he saw was the flash of his eyes and knew that he needed to send him home, even if it was just to give him time to come down from this. Anything to get rid of that crocodile smile and get his agent back.

"Go home, Tony. Take the day and get your head together." He kept his voice gentle - it was an order, but not a disciplinary one.

"I'm fine, boss." The smile was the right mix of thankful sincerity. He could be the job. Didn't need anyone thinking he couldn't. He just hadn't ever shot anyone at that close a range before. His mouth was dry. Added a jocular smirk and batted his eyes. "Your concern is noted, though."

"My concern isn't the only thing behind this." And if it was the only thing, he wasn't about to say it now. "I don't need Kate and McGee walking on eggshells wondering when you're gonna unload on them again." He took a step closer, not quite in his space but enough to lower his voice and keep any passers-by from hearing. "Go home."

Tony rarely swore aloud. It was a mark of poor breeding and he was pretty sure the ex-Gunny would beat him for it. But this was insulting. He was the senior field agent and it wasn't, "Like my moods have anything on yours, if I was in one, which I am not." He clenched his jaw, could feel the anger, irritation, restlessness leeching into his fingers, turning into that anxious energy that could keep him running for days.

He leaned right back into Gibbs' space, spoiling for a fight. His voice was a low, seductive baiting croon. "I had a father, Gibbs. He couldn't protect me, do his job, either, so why don't you just-"

"That's enough!" Gibbs snarled at him, teeth clenched to hold back a shout and trying not to feel the way his gut twisted at the reminder. Whatever he wanted to say, it needed a little more privacy than the bullpen. He reached past Tony to push the door open and moved to the side intending to crowd him into the stairwell.

Tony simply strolled past him, fisted hands stuffed into his pockets, ruining the line of his suit and not caring. Gibbs wanted to finish this privately, he could finish it alone. His long legs took the stairs two at a time, and he realized this was the first time he'd purposefully ignored Gibbs' orders, implied or stated. He wondered if this was the line. If when he got back tonight, he'd just send the pre-written resignation email he had on his hard drive. It had already been almost four years. But he'd be damned if he'd go out being coddled like a child.

Gibbs was taken aback for only a moment before he headed down the stairs after him, his knees protesting the entire way. "We reached the two year mark already, DiNozzo?"

He spun on the landing, oblivious to the fact that Gibbs was a step above him, stripping him of the height advantage he so rarely used but was desperate for today. "Double that in a few months, boss. Anything else or you got nothing better to do today than trail after me like a lost dog?" He just couldn't make his mouth shut. Didn't really want to. If this was the blowout that would end him, he'd do it spectacularly.

"Nope." He answered Tony's last question first as he stepped down onto the landing. "Just thought that I wouldn't have to worry about you running away when things got tough." He moved to the left but held his gaze. If he wanted to keep moving, he'd have to move through him. "Isn't that what happened in Baltimore? Philadelphia?"

This was a dangerous path to tread, but necessary, if either of them wanted to get past this.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it go. He crowded close to Gibbs, looked up at him through heavy lashes. "Forgot Peoria, Gibbs. Sometimes I even let my captains fuck me goodbye." He licked his lips in blatant invitation. "I've seen you look. I'm not the only coward here."

"And I'm not your Captain." He stood his ground, so close they could have kissed, and while his body may have responded to that invitation, he wasn't taking the bait. "Unless you go around comparing all your superior officers to your father."

He quirked a curious eyebrow and an amusedly caustic smile. "Can't say there aren't marked similarities..." He skimmed a featherlight finger down the cotton of Gibbs' jacket-covered polo.

"At least in the personality. You're way hotter than the last man I called Daddy, Gibbs." His eyes burned into his superior's, gauging his reaction, knowing he'd be pushing the man out of his depth, and felt a bit like a cat with an interesting mouse: smug and bitterly apart.

Gibbs kept his gaze as neutral as he could, ignoring the touch but glad for the long sleeves to cover the chill that raced across his shoulders. "Go home. Come back when you're ready to work instead of cruise for a good-bye fuck." He turned, shouldering Tony's hand away from his chest and started back up the stairs.

~*~*~

Tony disappeared the opposite way, and went home. He showered again and stared into the mirror, reminding himself very carefully that while punching the mirror would satisfy him for a moment, the hand lacerations might push his adrenaline, they would also scream "unstable" and he wasn't.

Not really. He wandered the apartment, fingers lighting gently on this and that, a movie murmuring softly in the background, like a brook. It wasn't soothing him.

He changed quickly into running gear, leaving his towel in the hallway, and began his routine; the exchange with Gibbs burning his cheeks more than the sun above, shame making his shoulders tight. He should have been able to keep it together better than that. His legs pumped harder, and the sweat began to push the last few days out of his system. He ran until his legs shook, and he keyed back into his place, stripping on the way to the bathroom, scooping up the now-dry towel he'd left earlier as he showered again.

The sleep he fell into was deeper, more restful, but when he woke, he still had a tight knot in his stomach.

~*~*~

Neither Kate nor Tim said anything when Gibbs came back to the bullpen alone, and when Tony didn't return from his 'coffee run' he felt the guilty knot in his stomach recede a little when he saw them relax. The rest of the day was quiet; Gibbs told Director Morrow that Agent DiNozzo would be debriefed when he returned from personal leave, and the rest of the paperwork would be on his desk at the end of the day.

He was surprised by the call from Paula Cassidy, and would let Tony know she was asking about him. Tell him I called about the money he owes me or I'll never hear the end of it.

Abby was a little harder to convince regarding Tony's departure, and it was only when he promised to check up on him and endured a rib-squeezing hug that she settled back into the day.

He stared at Tony's desk after the others left, turning over the conversation in his mind until the words blurred in his head and all he remembered was the touch of his hand and the glitter of green eyes.

You're way hotter than the last man I called Daddy...

He shoved back from his desk before he let himself react to that and headed for the parking lot. He'd promised Abby, after all, and the stairwell conversation needed to be finished.

He paused at the door of Tony's apartment, listening for a moment before he knocked.

"No, Paula, I really don't feel like-" He stood at the knocking and laughed at the joke she made. "Yeah I know I'm always in the mood, but I got this new movie, and I'm gonna veg, and if that's you knocking on my damn door, I'm-"

He swung the door open with a friendly but tired smile on his face, and a low-slung pair of jeans worn thin with hole on the upper thigh, and the top button popped. "-gonna have to call you back."

Gibbs was pretty sure the little relieved half-smile at Tony's phone banter hadn't quite left his face when the door opened, but damned if he didn't have to force himself to keep his gaze level at the sight of him. He could count on one hand the times he'd seen Tony dressed in something that cost less than three figures (ties included); the threadbare jeans did more to show him off than any Armani could hope to do.

Eyes front, Gunny! He let his inner D.I. shake him back to business.

"Feeling better?" He waited to be invited in, but wasn't about to ask.

Tony swallowed hard, turning the closed cellphone over in his hand again and again. He watched the tiny grin slide from Gibbs' face. He'd been hoping to spend the night figuring out how to apologize without apologizing, or getting his resignation past Gibbs directly to the Director. Gibbs had earned giving him a piece of his mind, though, so he ignored the question, and allowed the door to swing all the way open in silent invitation.

"Beer?"

It was as close to an invitation he was going to get; he stepped into Tony's apartment with a silent nod. He had a feeling beer would be needed to get through this without another argument.

He'd never been inside Tony's apartment. Usually if he needed to pick him up, he waited in the car and called him. He didn't care too much about how he kept his own place, especially after--he pushed that aside and let his gaze wander. Tony did enjoy the finer things, the couch worn but leather, the TV expensive and large on one wall, with floor-to-ceiling cabinets filled with DVDs. The coffee table was cluttered with DVD cases as well, but there was no dust or food left out, and the place smelled clean.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to sit or stand. Another glimpse of the hole in Tony's jeans made sitting a much more appropriate pose, and he settled into one of the chairs.

"She called for you earlier," he said, the best he could do before things got heavier. He despised small talk.

Tony handed off a beer as he passed from the kitchen, and sunk into the corner of the couch farthest from, but facing Gibbs. His thumb sunk deeply into the belt loop nearest the front of his jeans as he slouched a little more, his face bored, but eyes tracking every move Gibbs made and the apartment around him.

"I know," he said around a pull of the honey wheat beer in his hand. He gave a cavalier grin. "Called to let me know I'm a lazy bastard, and she wants to go dancing tonight."

There was no table to lean on here, no file to page through and let the tension thicken. No camera, no two-way glass behind him. A small part of him realized that interrogations were the most intimate conversations he'd had with anyone lately, and he took a long pull of the odd-tasting beer. "I'll tell Abby she has nothing to worry about," he said as he held the beer far enough away to see the label. "The hell is this stuff?"

"The hell does Abby have to worry about?" He gave his boss a puzzled frown then gave a soft laugh at the expression on his face. "Can't scowl at it and change the flavor, Gibbs. It's a honey wheat. Pale ale. Almost sweet. It's an acquired taste. Like that swill you drink out of a mason jar, but the opposite."

Come on, he thought. Just give it to me. Small talk with Gibbs was bizarre. You either didn't realize you'd done it till it was over, and you felt relaxed, or you wondered when he was gonna start breaking your knees with a phone book.

"She was worried about you." He ignored the rest of it as he held the bottle loosely, resting on his thigh. "I told her I'd check on you." He met Tony's gaze across the room. "You gonna tell me what all that bullshit was in the stairwell?"

Like ripping off a band-aid, right?

Tony rolled his shoulders back, took another swallow and mimicked Gibbs' pose with his beer on his thigh. His eyes tracked the way the bottle's condensation was beginning to slip out from between his fingers, tiny rivers making a slow journey across the joints of Gibbs' capable, gorgeous hands.

"Lets just chalk it up to a bad day, huh, Gibbs?" His hand moved absently across his collar bones, almost reaching for that tiny cut he could feel, then his fingers twisted away in an anxiously defiant manner. "I mean, we've all had them. Did you see McGee when his hard drive started smoking? He was-"

"McGee didn't shoot someone at point blank range yesterday." He was too far away for the physical head-slap, so he used the verbal equivalent. "And he certainly didn't proposition me when his hard drive started smoking." He leaned forward, setting the bottle next to his shoe as he leaned on his knees. "Yesterday was a lot more than a 'bad day', but I sure as hell didn't expect to have today's conversation, or to wonder if you're even coming back to work tomorrow.

"What's going on in there, Tony?" He had a 'Boss' answer prepared just in case he needed a reason to ask. He didn't like this forward-as-hell then suddenly skittish Tony. The sooner this was dealt with, the better.

He could feel the heat rising on his cheekbones and he took another pull of beer. "Bad day, boss." The words were said with a deep ache, and he lifted dry green eyes to blue.

"I liked him. Jeffrey. I was gonna help him. But then... Well, and then." His leg twitched up and down, and his fingers drummed against the back of the couch. "I didn't want to pull that trigger, Gibbs."

Gibbs heard that ache, and felt an answering ache from somewhere inside. He wasn't about to spout platitudes about how he did what he had to do, that nobody blamed him for it; after years as a cop he'd already heard it from one shrink or another every time he had to discharge his weapon in the line of duty.

And if anything that Tony had said in the stairwell was the truth, he did not want to continue that trend among his superiors.

"I wish there hadn't been a reason to." He picked up the beer again, turning the bottle in his hands. "And I don't want you trying to quit on me because it's got you turned inside out right now."

It was the best way he could say, I don't want to lose you. He hoped it was enough.

Tony averted his eyes and nodded. His bottle was empty, so he stood to grab another and' wandered aimlessly around the living room, molding his hands to the shapes of the trinkets he'd pick up. "I shouldn't have-"

He set the frog-shaped knick-knack down, and nodded at himself. "I like easy outs. I like control. Ya know?" He didn't have the words to explain what he felt. How an easy out was the safest way to keep running. He'd always felt like he was running to. What had happened in that stairwell... It felt like running from. He didn't know how to say he felt like he was coming apart.

"I don't have those with you. Sometimes I wish I did."

Gibbs stood when Tony stopped, leaning on the shelf next to him. "If this job was easy to do, or to live with, everyone would do it." Nobody on the team had anything but this job. Gibbs had a string of ex-wives. Kate was a knockout and still remained single. Abby was like a hummingbird outside the Navy Yard, her only constants work and church. McGee lost himself in a world of computer fantasy every night. Tony played the playboy but here he was, staring at his bookshelf and wishing...

"Why?" One word, hard question, but it would get him talking again and maybe they could figure out more than just how to get him back to work.

Tony lifted his head, stared at Gibbs a moment with empty eyes. "Why'd I proposition you? Why'd he slit Lenny's throat? Why'd I like him? Why do I stay at this fucking job?" His voice stayed level, modulated, and he raised a brow at Gibbs.
"Jeffery White was a sociopath, and a smart one. If he wasn't, you wouldn't be asking either of those two." He took a pull on the beer again, the taste starting to grow on him. "I know that you're my lead agent because you're damned good at this fucking job, and I'd hate to lose you because of a charming bastard like White."

He allowed himself a slow smile. "And I sure as hell don't know the answer to the other one." It was a gentle challenge, yes, but he hated the bleakness in Tony's gaze.

Tony ducked his head, pretty sure he hadn't blushed like this since the cook caught him kissing her daughter when he was twelve. "Sex is easy, Gibbs. The easiest out God ever made feel good."

That grin his boss was sporting wasn't though. He could feel his stomach tighten, heat pool there, seeping steadily through his body. His jeans weren't thick enough for that kind of thinking.

He absently rubbed a finger in the hole at the thigh, took a drink of his warming beer, head tipped back, buying a moment to pull this brain together. He didn't want to lose this, not yet. He'd give him an out, and let him take it, no charge.

They'd be even then.

"Besides, head-fucking your straight boss is supposed to get you a black-eye and two weeks automatically." Gave him a friendly, stupid grin, hiding the desire he felt. "Should've stayed at the harassment seminar. I'm pretty sure it's in there at the end."

Anything Gibbs had to say to Tony's first answer was lost in that swig of beer, the younger man's throat working in a way that made his mouth go dry and his pants suddenly tighter. He had to set his own beer down on the shelf next to him before he dropped it, and when he looked back up at the out Tony was offering, the temptation to take it was almost strong enough to keep things exactly the way they were.

Almost.

He shifted off the shelf and moved closer, reaching up to lay his hand on Tony's shoulder and using his thumb to nudge his chin up, the thin red line stark against his skin. It was almost natural as he leaned in to kiss it, and he whispered against the reminder of how close he came to this moment never happening.

"This is not good-bye."

The kiss felt like a phantom, while the hand on his shoulder -his naked shoulder, his mind screamed stupidly- was like a branding iron. When Gibbs' breath brushed against his bared throat, Tony could feel the shudder through his entire body, the chills run down his arms. He white-knuckled his beer to keep from touching the temptation so close, and closed his eyes.

"Gibbs..." His voice was rough, a little desperate, so he swallowed hard and tried again. "Don't do this."

He saw the reaction to his kiss, oddly pleased by the way Tony's whole body responded to him, even if it was contradicted by his words. He stroked his thumb along his collarbone and asked the same question that cracked the shell the first time. "Why?"

He bit back the mewl that threatened to crawl from his throat when Gibbs' thumb swirled in the hollows between the curving bones, but couldn't hide the hitch in his breathing. He took the smallest step away from Gibbs heat and scent, a victory in his own mind, these few inches of space between them. It was a wicked loss that his body arched into and protested deeply, feeling his palm sliding down his chest, gun callouses evident and rough from nights spent sanding his frustrations and losses and fears away, Tony knew.

But Gibbs deserved... well, a hell of a lot, but at the very least to be looked in the eyes, so he did it, slowly, and steadily. Every trace of his normal humor was gone; Tony needed him to understand.

"Because it's not good-bye. Because I'll be at that desk, every day till you fire me, annoying Kate and the Probie and flirting with Abby and being out of line. Trust me when I tell you, Gibbs, your life will be much simpler if you put this off."

Gibbs held his gaze, his fingers still warm from Tony's skin beneath them as he listened. He considered the warning for a long moment, sliding his thumb across his fingertips to keep from reaching for him again.

It would be simpler, that much was true. It would also be lonely, for both of them. Given the way that Tony had responded to just his touch told him that leaving this alone now would be even harder for acknowledging the attraction and then stepping back.

And oh, he was attracted.

"I trust you to tell me the truth. Always have." He moved in again, but didn't move to touch him, not yet. "You really want to put this off? Wait for some kind of 'right' moment?" With the lives they lead and the job they do, he had to know the moment wouldn't be more right than this.

He laughed, low, soft, and a bit forlorn. "We're both smarter than that. There isn't... a right or perfect time for..." He gave that same laugh, straightened his shoulders and shook his head at Gibbs.

"Do you even know what you're asking for? What you'll get?"

Tony's laugh coaxed another smile despite the sadness behind it. His fingers twitched again, aching to touch him. "I want to know," he said, close enough now that he could see the pulse in Tony's neck. "But it's not going to change my mind."

That decision had been made the second he touched him tonight. "Tell me."

Tony was confused by his words, unnerved by his nearness, and fumbled for a moment, then figured, if not now, when? At least this way, Gibbs wasn't walking in blind.

"I... I flirt, boss, but if it was... could be someone who mattered, I get jealous. I really do watch a ton of movies. I go for runs at two in the morning, no matter who's in my bed if I need to. I've broken up with people for un-alphabetizing my movies. You know... Work-me. But, the real Tony DiNozzo is a class act fuck-up. I... I really mean it, Gibbs," he finished his ramble lamely.

Gibbs listened to Tony describe himself and ached for so many different reasons, but mostly because Tony actually believed that he was a fuck-up. Again his fingers twitched, and this time he reached out, this time to catch his hand and squeeze once, then skate his fingertips up his arm to his shoulder again. "I can handle that." And he could. "My exes may say differently, but that's something we can work on."

That boat wasn't just a boat, after all. His life after a certain point had been a series of projects, goals set to achieve and reasons to continue to another task. It's why his job was the perfect one for him. At the end of the day, however, he needed the boat to keep him from making the people in his life part of another project.

That was something he could never do to Tony.

Guess we're both fuck-ups in different ways.

He slid his hand around to the back of Tony's neck, his thumb just under his ear. "Okay...?" His mouth was dry again.

Tony gave his ex-wives the dismissive wave he felt they deserved, and let his eyelids drop as the weight of Gibbs' hand drew him closer until their lips were almost touching. He could feel Gibbs heat through his clothes, against his bare chest, and smell him; the soap, the dryer sheets, a touch of sweat, and something that made Tony bite his lip till he bled in the locker room shower after they trained in the gym.

He re-opened green eyes at the last moment, shared breath with Gibbs, and drew his last line in the sand, the only thing he knew would bring pause, lips brushing against Gibbs' as he spoke. "The first time you lie to me, I'll be gone."

Gibbs felt a twist in his gut at Tony's condition, the ache almost breaking the moment of shared breath and soft whispers. The fact that he was ready to bolt at any perceived betrayal made him wonder if he'd ever stopped running. He rested his forehead against Tony's, stroking his thumb under his ear. "And I won't run at the first sign of trouble." He drew back enough so their eyes could meet again. "You got that? I'm not going anywhere."

Tony's eyes bored into Gibbs, intense and frenetic, seeking... Something. Assurance, truth, a thousand things with pretty words, but when he looked into blue eyes all he could see was Gibbs.

Maybe that was the only assurance he needed. So he moved into the space his boss had vacated, for the first time letting himself touch Gibbs. His hands skimmed across the man's chest firmly, unlike the way he'd touched him in the stairwell. Let one hand rest on Gibbs' broad shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, pulling him in hard for the kiss he'd been chasing.

Gibbs opened to the kiss almost instantly, his own hand tightening on the back of Tony's neck. He could feel the desperation in the taut lines of the other man's body, could feel it in his own shoulders too but forced himself to relax.

It wasn't going to be easy, what they were starting here, tonight. It would take work to make it something they could both be comfortable with, rough edges to be sanded smooth, curves to be coaxed from--

--This wasn't another fucking boat.

He closed his eyes and slid his arm around Tony's waist, the thumb at his neck still stroking back and forth. He could feel his erection chafing in his pants and shifted so Tony could feel it too, a wordless promise that this was something they both wanted.

The fact was that Tony couldn't remember when he hadn't wanted Gibbs, been drawn to the authority and honor, and that fucking smile and now that man was... He moaned around Gibbs' tongue, breaking the kiss only to trail others down his jaw, almost reassuring himself it was real. He left kisses and nips and took his scent and taste for himself, smiling darkly when he felt the other man's erection twitch against his own.

He realized, as he worked his way back to Gibbs' mouth, pausing only to swirl his tongue in the hollow of his throat, that his hands were gripping the back of his neck too tightly and fisted in the material of his jacket. He tried to pat at the wrinkled ruined material apologetically; Gibbs wasn't trying to escape.

As soon as Tony's mouth left his he remembered to breathe, turning his head to press gentler kisses to his neck with just a soft nip where Tony's neck met his shoulder. He moved his hand up, sliding his fingers into Tony's hair and twitching just a little tighter with every scrape of his teeth and warm brush of his tongue. God, he felt good, and when was the last time he'd allowed himself to enjoy it?

He smiled against Tony's mouth as he let his other hand slide down, fingers brushing below the waistband of his jeans. "S'all right," he dared to tease between kisses. "Sears is pretty good with wash and wear."

He wanted to hear a laugh that wasn't broken; then he could lose himself in this.

Tony, always sensually responsive, felt like he was in overdrive. It wasn't just anyone's hands on him. They were Gibbs'. And he was- "Fuck, boss, got a washer and dryer in the building," he choked around a raw laugh, hips arching to meet his touch. He realized Gibbs was incredibly overdressed, and started working on that, hands sliding down to his belt, then up to his shoulders again, kneading and smoothing, helping the fabric off, cursing again against Gibbs mouth when they stubbornly caught on his elbows.

He sunk his teeth firmly, punishingly into the silver-haired man's bottom lip. "I am trying to get you naked. A little cooperation." He tried for patient. He was pretty sure he just got petulant or exasperated.

Gibbs smiled at Tony's laugh, closing his eyes as he felt a final relaxation, as if he'd let out a breath he'd been holding for too long. He opened them quickly enough, however, as Tony started stripping him with motions so deft and sure that he knew without having to ask that he'd undressed a man before. He helped as best he could, shrugging and shifting, but still reluctant to let go of the other man now that things had begun.

It was the bite, however, that changed things. He'd come here tonight prepared to be gentle until he knew Tony was all right, and then...he wasn't sure what was supposed to follow, and now? Tony was more than all right, kissing and pushing and demanding - he didn't need gentle anymore.

He let go long enough for Tony to get his coat and jacket off and moved in again; this time he held him tighter. This time he added teeth to his kisses, nipping at his lip, his chin, tugging his head back as he dragged his teeth across Tony's throat.

Tony felt the fingers in his hair tightening, exposing his throat to Gibbs teeth, and gave a feral smile at the ceiling, deft fingers teasing open his belt, pulling it through in one smooth motion, his other hand palming the six he'd been watching for almost four years.

He murmured encouragement while his fingers flicked at the tab on Gibbs' slacks, taking one step backwards, leading him out of the living room, toward his bedroom, head spinning, wondering when the hell Gibbs had been with a man, because he knew the rules, and you didn't use hands like that on women. He took a break from their journey to slam his partner against the wall in the hallway, letting the moment have the better of him, grinding his hips against Gibbs, teeth sinking in more deeply when their erections lined up, his fingers wrapping around the pinned man's wrists, holding him still while he drank his fill.

Gibbs had sounds of his own to offer as well: a groan that became a growl at the slide of Tony's hand over his ass, a soft gasp as he was pushed against the wall, and more definitive growl as their bodies met and pushed, heat meeting heat. His pants were open, his erection straining against his briefs even as he strained at Tony's grip.

God, he couldn't remember how long it had been, when the kisses were just as biting, the hands hard and the thrusts harder, not a bit of it reminding him of a woman. Until now, the brief encounters had been an escape. This? This was a destination, and his body knew it, responding to the biting kisses with a throb he could feel all the way down to his toes.

He twisted his mouth away, needing a moment to catch his breath before he husked out, "Bedroom."

Tony dropped his head into the hollow of Gibbs shoulder and exhaled shakily, stupidly pleased at the shiver it elicited from the other man. "Best idea, ever, Boss," he breathed against his neck.

Mischievously, he wrapped his hand as best he could around Gibbs' cotton-covered cock and squeezed once. "But next time we're fucking on the wall."

Gibbs couldn't hold back a chuckle at Tony's enthusiasm. It was an interesting feeling, being the focus of the other man's mischief instead of his obedience.

It was damned hot, too, and when he felt the firm squeeze to his straining cock and heard the lewd promise his head rocked back to hit the wall behind him, the sound he made something guttural and needy. Next time wasn't here yet, but now was shaping up to be just as mind-blowing.

He lifted his newly-freed hands and nudged Tony back. The bedroom couldn't be that far away.

Tony let himself be eased back and, catching the look in those blue eyes, held them as he slipped slowly, purposefully to his knees in front of Gibbs. Dropped his eyes and sighed hard across the spot of pre-come soaking through the briefs.

He let his eyes wander slowly back up Gibbs' body, sure he had the man's attention when he licked his bottom lip then tucked it between his teeth.

"Or I could make you come right here."

Gibbs felt his mouth go dry again as he watched Tony sink to his knees, the image of him with the bottle of beer an eternity ago springing to mind. His eyes fluttered at the suggestion and he had to lick his own lips before he could speak. "God, Tony..." He slid his fingers back into Tony's hair as he worked his pants and briefs down far enough to give him access. "Please."

He reached down to stroke himself, just once as he stroked Tony's hair with his other hand.

Hearing Gibbs say "please", please to him, in that helpless rough tone of voice actually made Tony's cock jump, straining valiantly but vainly against the denim that held it. He gave it a rough squeeze as Gibbs bared his own, to make it behave, or wait or... not make a stupid mess in his jeans because Gibbs was going to let him...

Fuck. Tony batted Gibbs hands out of the way, staring at his prize in a way he usually reserved for Vipers, Armani suits, Bulgari watches and Christmas morning, before he licked a broad, appreciative swath from root to tip, hands holding Gibbs hips firmly still.

He took his cock steadily into this mouth, laving the tip and reveling in the fingers pulling his hair and tightening their grip as much as he did the noises Gibbs was making.

He couldn't keep his hands still, he was forever touching things, and Gibbs was no exception, not now, so he wrapped long fingers, memorizing his girth, the way he felt, spit-slicked and leaking across his tongue, his fingers stroking emphatically down as his mouth swept up...

Tony opened heavy eyes to look up at Gibbs, just his tip being teased by Tony's tongue, and curled one side of his mouth up wantonly.

Gibbs hissed in a breath through his teeth at the first long lick, closing his eyes and tightening his fingers in Tony's hair, wanting to push, pull, feel more and yes... Maybe another time, when it was Tony who begged for him not to hold back instead of holding him still and taking his sweet time with him.

After everything that had happened today, tonight and right now, his body had far less patience than was required for anything more than this. He didn't even hear the sounds he was making through the pounding in his ears, and when he dragged his eyes open to see Tony, his hand wrapped around him with that laughing sex-smile curling his lips, he barely felt the tightening in his balls that warned him before he stiffened, fisting his hand in Tony's hair as he came, only dimly aware when his toes curled that he still had his shoes on. "Christ--!"

Tony took everything Gibbs gave him, the desperate edge to his last shout killing any heed he intended to pay his slightly sore knees, channeling straight white hot lust down his spine to linger in his balls. He lapped across his cock one last time, placing a chaste, furtive kiss at the tip before standing, wiping his thumb across the corners of his mouth and cleaning it neatly of any remnants of Gibbs' come, then smiled hugely, but oddly shyly; slightly out of breath, and quirked an eyebrow.

"It's okay. You can call me Tony."

Gibbs blinked at him, still hazy from the last twitches of his climax as he tried to puzzle out what he meant. When realization dawned a moment later, the laugh was out before he could stop it as he moved in for another kiss, this one sated with only hints of teeth. He tasted the lingering bittersalt on Tony's tongue, the smell of sex still heavy in the air, and skated his fingertips down over the other man's belly to nudge and curl and explore.

He made a soft, surprised sound to find nothing beneath the jeans but Tony and, with his fingers curled firmly around his cock, turned both of them until Tony was against the wall. He braced himself, one arm on the wall next to Tony's head, their bodies pressed together as he slid his thumb across the tip of his cock. "Good...?" He echoed Tony's half-smile, watching his reaction as he started to stroke.

Tony had his head tipped back, basking in the touches, kisses and the way Gibbs had laughed, so the hand around his cock, startled his eyes open, Gibbs so close and warm, so he rolled his hips up, and swallowed once.

He could still taste him in the back of his throat. He said something that sounded like, "FuckGodGood..." and leaned forward to see if Gibbs tasted the same when he smiled, whimpering as a long pull and a thumb across the sensitive head made him shiver, and Gibbs leaned back, just out of reach.

Tony's whimper sent a slow thrum of sensation down his spine, his body trying to respond again even though he knew it would be a while before he'd be ready for another round.

That meant that he could watch Tony come apart for him. Because of him. Watch his eyes widen-then-shut as he spilled all over his hand.

He added a slow twist on the upstroke, keeping his gaze locked on those green eyes. "Like that?" Because god, he did, with a strength that surprised him with every heartbeat he felt through Tony's cock.

"More. More." It felt like Gibbs was fucking him with his eyes, blue like smoke in a storm, and he was shaking, hips riding the rhythm his hand was setting. Tony thumped his head back against the wall, hands reaching unsteadily for Gibbs, landing one hand on his hip, tugging weakly at his belt loops, the other cupping his jaw, thumb tracing his mouth as he spoke.

Tony'd had lots of partners, men or women, it hadn't much mattered, but this felt too close, too intimate, like Gibbs was looking inside him, and it was hard to keep that gaze, but even more impossible to break it. He was so close, could feel his shoulders tightening, the flush rising on his chest, and his brain puddling at the base of his spine.

Gibbs parted his lips at the rasp of Tony's thumb, letting him pull him forward again until they were pressed together again, his hand still stroking with the rhythm of Tony's hips. "More...?" He held his gaze and leaned in, nudging Tony's legs apart with his knee to stand even closer, the scent of sweat and sex so thick he could taste it.

On the next upstroke, he turned to suck Tony's thumbtip into his mouth, dragging his teeth across his fingerprint as he stroked his thumb back and forth just under the tip of Tony's cock, where the nerves gathered and sang at even the slightest touch.

Tony howled with Gibbs tongue around his thumb and hand at his cock, riding it into Gibbs' fist, coming messily over the hands he fantasized about, whimpering his lover's name like a prayer, moving against his knee, eyes closed tight, body shuddering, slumping, empty against the wall, and finally opened drugged green eyes to searing blue, twitching within a still-tight fist.

Gibbs rode it out with him, closing his eyes briefly at the first pulse of Tony's cock but watching the rest, keeping the other man's thumb between his teeth until it was over. He envied every noisy moment of it, his training-conditioned mind keeping him as quiet as he could even during sex, and smiled around Tony's thumb at the sound of his name. He drew his lips back when Tony opened his eyes again and kissed the slick fingerprint, not quite sure what to say.

Tony gave a long shudder, embarrassingly pleased with the kiss, and swallowed twice before he got the words out, laced with lazy sex and satiation. "Better clean you up, Gunny."

Though it would never fly in Esquire, GQ, or even Sears, Tony liked the look of the man right now, pants open, Tony's come all over his hand, and looking generally disheveled and specifically DiNozzo-debauched. He took a coltish step forward, but got his legs under him enough to turn into the bathroom, about three feet from the scene of their...

Lovemaking?

Passion?

Fucking?

Crime, Tony decided. The scene of the crime, and let his mind rest.

Gibbs felt his lips twitch upward at the endearment that would have earned him a head-slap at work, and leaned back to let Tony move. He stayed in the doorway as he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and as he caught the other man's gaze in the mirror, he sucked one knuckle clean before using the handkerchief on the rest of the sticky-slick mess and tucking himself back into his briefs.

He glanced at the bedroom door, which they'd never reached, and wondered if they would tonight. The intimacy and intensity were both fading, there were no beers to hide behind or social walls or Rule Twelve's here in the hallway.

His pants were still open. He left them that way; the next step was Tony's call.

Tony's eyes darkened at the sight of Gibbs tasting his come, stilling an indulgent headshake. A handkerchief? Christ, only Gibbs. But he slowly washed his hands, filled a glass from the tap and drank it down, refilled it and handed it to Gibbs, watching him swallow the water as he hitched his jeans back over his hips, zipping them, but neglecting to button, as had his... lover, he realized, lounging indolently against the sink.

This was why Tony didn't fuck people in his home. Right now, he'd be unlocking his car with unsteady hands and stuffing another number he wouldn't call between him and the console. Gibbs looked impassive, which he translated into Gibbs-speak for a little unsure.

He almost smiled when Gibbs replaced the glass exactly where Tony had picked it up from. He gave the older man a look of studied carelessness, and spoke without preamble. Always attacking the awkward, the only way to keep from fearing it, and the consequences that were already ringing in his head. It could only go two ways. But he wasn't about to try to manipulate a man like Gibbs to get what he wished was real.

This was the big-boy world.

"You don't have to stay." But you should. He added a soft grin to take the edge off the words. "I'm not a woman, Gibbs. Not gonna demand a cuddle. So stop looking at me like that."

Any uncertainty Gibbs had about where the night was headed fled at Tony's attempt to push him away, the smile and the sarcasm just as false as the forward flirting in the stairwell earlier that day. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and let out a slow breath. "Said I wasn't going anywhere, Tony. Meant it, too."

And, rather than let the moment linger into another uncomfortable silence, he offered a soft smile as he backed out of the bathroom and headed back to the living room, calling over his shoulder. "Hope you got an extra toothbrush in there and a pair of sweats, 'cause I'm not sitting around here in my underwear."

Tony leaned more heavily against the counter, unwilling to admit even to himself the relief he felt as Gibbs strolled away, control of the situation firmly in-hand.

"Jesus, Gibbs, you think this is a hotel?" he called back, already heading for the bedroom, a stupid grin on his face. "You know they'll be too long right? Cause I'm taller than you." But he'd be wearing them, he realized, rooting through his drawers for a pair for himself as well.

He'd wear them while he stayed.</div>

Wants and Needs (Gibbs/DiNozzo, PG-13)

piwrit_queen — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 01:54:51 GMT

Title: Wants and Needs
Author: QueenRudi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2561
Prompt: Thing-a-Thon VII; Gibbs, Gibbs angry that Tony rejected offer of own team, Loyalty, Trust, "What do you want me to say Gibbs?", and finally, Why Tony secretly liked Gibb's moustache
Character(s): Tony DiNozzo, Jethro Gibbs
Summary:

Maybe it wasn’t just the mustache.

Not that the mustache wasn’t porntastic and creepy as hell when he’d stroke it with his pinky finger in the interrogation room mirror.

Not that Tony had thought, even once, what it might feel like brushing against his upper lip. If it would be stiff and thick or soft and only slightly raspy.

Tony tended to look like a very friendly bear when he didn’t shave. Gibbs still managed to look like a shark scenting blood.

Just… with a mustache.

He wasn’t joking with Jenny. Director Shepherd. Gibbs really did call Ziva Kate. He really did still have bad days. The mustache was a silent Bat-signal to Tony. Gibbs needed help, obviously. And though Tony wouldn’t be caught dead in maroon, green or yellow spandex, he was definitely Robin to Gibbs’ Batman. And if Batman got his ass in a sling, or his mouth in a mustache, it was Robin’s job to save him.

Shave him.

Whatever.

Even if that weren’t the case, though, could he have left anyway? It was something he tried to not think about, because there wasn’t a lot of point in it.

Except, of course, when Gibbs and his pornstache were shouting down said Madame Director, demanding to know why the hell his senior agent had been passed over for a team leader position.

Tony had no idea how the scuttlebutt had spread about that, but he wasn’t above breaking knees to find out.

Jenny broke the stalemate to cross her arms delicately over her chest. He winced, knowing it was a sure-fire sign that she was about to put on her Director hat and expressly piss off Gibbs.

“I have to know, Agent Gibbs. Did you even ask Tony about it before you dragged him up here to watch you defend his name?”

She was completely ignoring his shut-the-hell-up looks and urgent slicing motions he was making across his own throat.

He had the properly fascinated look down when Gibbs spun on him, and used his x-ray eyes to rake over him from his toes to the crown of his skull. “Something you need to tell me, DiNozzo?”

It was dangerous and quiet and never, ever a tone he liked to hear.

“Lied on my application, Boss. Don‘t actually speak Spanish.”

“Then what exactly were you saying to that housekeeper at the Marhulicks?” Gibbs didn’t suffer fools or liars lightly. Or at all if they were his agents.

“Long way from home, is all, Boss. Never liked Mexican food anyway if it didn‘t come from Taco Bell, ya know? Especially since now they have these triple wrapped burritos with the layer of beans, then meat then cheese and-”

The slap was a little sharper than Tony thought was strictly necessary, all things equal, but Gibbs did cast one long look at Jenny.

“We‘re not done yet.”

She answered in a bored manner, an ironic quirk to her eyebrows. “Are we ever, Jethro?”

His boss didn’t dignify that with an answer, though Tony silently gave her a point for continued poise in the face of the storm.

Gibbs heavy hand squeezed at the back of his neck. “My office, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.”

It was old hat for him to want to puke, but be able to keep a completely affable look on his face and let his mind race with ways to fix this.

He had a few things he could thank his father for.

They settled into the elevator, waited fifteen seconds, and Gibbs hit the switch.

“If someone would‘ve asked me if you or Jen was more likely to lie to me, today, DiNozzo, I would have lost some money on my answer.”

“It wasn‘t a big deal, Boss.” He added that touch of exasperation. “How long do you think I‘d survive in Spain without you on my six?”

It was a blow-off question, so he was shocked when Gibbs shoved him softly, and looked seriously at him.

“A lot longer than four months, that‘s for sure.” Nice Gibbs, nice throwing in that’s how long Tony’d held down the fort.

As a team leader, he’d given himself a solid B… As a Gibbs replacement, maybe a D average.

And the scary thing was simply this: Gibbs wasn’t doing too well as a Gibbs replacement either.

Solid C, on a good day.

The sad thing was simply this: He didn’t trust Gibbs with Tony’s people yet.

And he didn’t trust anyone else with Gibbs, either.

How did he say all that to a man he’d worshipped for years?

“My skin is incredibly delicate. I‘d look like Leather Face in three years.” He shrugged, looked directly into Gibbs eyes and kept the lies and secrets back. Kept from asking for shelter, kept from asking if Gibbs was all right. Kept from saying, “I tried.”

“Besides, can‘t leave you a senior field agent who plays Elf Lord on the weekends.”

He knew that smile was dazzling. He practiced sometimes.

But Gibbs just stared with those damn blue eyes and waited him out.

As always Hurricane Jethro beat out Tropical Storm Anthony.

“What do you want me to say, Gibbs? Team leader or not those are my people, my friends, my family out there and you left them. And me. But the point, Jethro, is that they are not safe with you and your damn moustache yet.”

Tony wished desperately that he could just shut up, just for a minute, but as usual, his mouth had run away with him. All he could do now was dance to keep up.

“And furthermore, they are too scared of you right now to watch your six. Timmy‘s gonna be watching his shadow for the next six months and you got Ziva, afraid of tempting herself in interrogation! She‘s come so far, but she still needs some things, some guidance, and I don‘t know where your head is, but it‘s not doing that. It’s not taking care of my people.”

He feigned waving to an imaginary crowd. “Good luck guys, let me know when one of you gets shot!! Hasta!”

He blew out a noisy breath. “Besides all that, watching your six is my job. Mine. What kind of agent do you think you fucking made, Gibbs, if I could leave knowing all that?”

Of course, Gibbs ignored the question, he always ignored the question, and latched on to the pretty-damn-irrelevant as far as Tony was concerned.

Except, when Gibbs focused, it was kind of menacing.

“So, you don‘t really want a team in Spain, huh, Tony? Maybe what you really want is this one back. Wanna ask Jen for that instead?”

Tony’s shoulders stiffened and he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He was just trying to protect what mattered to him.

“What I‘d really prefer is you actually leading it. But if that‘s what it takes, Jethro, make sure Jenny files the right paperwork this time. The team can‘t take this back and forth anymore.” He was done pulling punches because Gibbs was on the bench. “I can‘t watch Abby cry like that one more time.”

He reached across Gibbs and slapped the switch to start the elevator moving again. The doors slid open, but his boss gripped his arm, just above his elbow when he tried to leave.

“Do you think this is easy for me, DiNozzo?”

“I wouldn‘t know, Gibbs. All I know is you‘re making it harder with your half-assed tries. You haven‘t put in a full day yet. You spend half the day back in a coma or in a bottle in Mexico. They need you here.”

“And what about you, Tony, what do you need?”

He had too many answers to that question, and they were all too close to the surface. He pulled his arm back stiffly, and kept his eyes directly to the left of Gibbs, though he could feel that blue ice eating away at him.

“A coffee.”

~*~*~

Tony got through the day with a minimum of incident. He remembered to correct Ziva’s English, tease his Probie, avoid Gibbs, and snuggle Abby, who petted his hair sympathetically, and told him he was the bravest person she knew.

That didn’t mean that his internal tremors had stopped until he’d gone home, lovingly hung up his suit, changed into something cotton and washed thin, and finished two beers.

Then he relaxed, then he was home, then he was free to admit it to himself. To the cat.

The cat pretty much ignored him. They’d been living together for about two years. Tony wasn’t sure if it was a girl-cat or a boy-cat. It seemed rude at this point in their relationship to flip it over and start investigating. After all, it let him stroke its soft fur, and allowed him, ever so graciously, to feed it, and sleep on his own bed, unless it wanted the pillow, in which case Tony scrunched down and learned to share.

He called it Pirate. Because it took what it wanted, and didn’t care how he felt about it. So it definitely could have been a woman, too.

It was kind of orange with white feet and black ears, with a bite taken out of one of them.

The messed up ear gave it character, and it twitched when Pirate was listening to him.

“He‘s such a dick, ya know?” He sucked at his beer while he stroked a firm hand over the cat while it ate its dinner. He probably shouldn’t be sprawled on the floor talking to the cat, but he didn’t think Pirate minded by the purrs vibrating its ribs.

“What do you need, Tony?” he mocked in a deep bravado. “Like he‘d know what to do even if I told him, ya know? Stupid jarhead.”

Pirate began its nightly ablutions, so Tony stood and looked aside politely.

“How about, everything, Boss? I wanna watch you sleep so I know you’re not getting into trouble, or blown up, or anything of the other ten thousand stupid things you do!”

“How about, to know what you taste like, Boss? Wanna know how you smell after you come, messy all over my hands? Wanna watch your six while you walk, not just while you shoot. Fucking Marine. Need to know you‘re safe and not crazy, and not broken like you were. Need to know you don‘t need me to be the boss!”

He threw his hands in the air swearing, and paced angrily, four steps across the living room, eight down the hall, and back again.

Pirate watched him with a superior and smug look from his perch atop the book shelf. He was about to cut Pirate down with a really nasty remark when a signature knock attempted to crack his door in half.

Thumpthumpthump! “DiNozzo.”

“God save me from the Marine Corps,” Tony tried to not snarl it when he pulled open his door. “I got neighbors, Gibbs, you trying to get me evicted?”

“Worthless slumlord anyway,” Gibbs never waited for an invitation, just shouldered past his second, a cold six-pack dangling from his fingers. “Can‘t keep your water heater running worth a damn.”

As if Tony would live in a slum. Though admittedly, the hot water heater was hit-and-miss, mostly miss, but the floors were high-gloss pine, counters marble, and the rugs were thick.

“You‘re jealous of my hardwood floors.”

Gibbs snorted while he capped two beers and handed one to his second. He took a moment to bestow a gesture of affection on Pirate, who took it like a deserving dignitary.

He wished vainly for a moment that he could still keep his pride around Gibbs.

“What‘s up, Gibbs?”

“Not Jethro, then, hmm? How about ‘boss’?”

“Off duty.” He touched his beer to Gibbs’ then stroked Pirate carefully, finger curling under its chin.

“True enough. We miss anything during our talk today, DiNozzo?”

God, could it get worse? “Think we covered it.”

“Why were you at my house?”

Suddenly, the beer didn’t feel like such a good idea. He set it down carefully on the entertainment center.

“Went by after you quit,” he used the word deliberately, a shield to keep him from getting too close. “Made sure it was locked up.” That the boat was still there.

“No, Tony… I remember you being there.” He took two steps closer into his space, and the air felt thicker, harder to draw into his lungs. “Like this.”

Usually when he could hear his pulse in his ears it was because someone had a gun on his team. He didn’t have anything to say, and for once, kept his mouth shut.

“Any ideas on that, Tony?”

“Couldn‘t say.” Not to Imposter-Gibbs, anyway.

“I got a lead, pieced it together.”

Tony reconsidered the beer, then decided it was a tell, even if his mouth felt like sand.

“I think we were like this… in my basement.” He laid a heavy hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him in a fraction. “I think the phone rang, and then everything went to hell pretty quick after that. But I think I wanted to-”

Tony stepped smoothly back from Gibbs half-embrace and reached for his beer, tell be damned. Gibbs might, might forgive a lying agent, when it was for the collar of an arms dealer, but he would never forgive a lying lover. And Tony didn't think he could handle lying to two people he cared about that way.

He took an extra swallow of beer, thinking the taste in his mouth was too bitter to just be the brewed hops and barley: it had to be regret. He was aware of the way Gibbs eyes traced his throat and ached because of it.

“When you‘re sure. When you can shave…” he added with a sad smirk. “I wanna revisit the conversation.” He allowed some of the attraction he felt to show, the warmth and affection. It was best to lie as little as possible.

It would be a while before Gibbs got his head back on straight anyway.

And the other truth was that Tony DiNardo’s doctor girlfriend was coming over after her shift.

“Tony-”

“He‘s worth waiting for, Gibbs. So that‘s what I‘m gonna do.” At least that was all true. He had been waiting until Jenny asked- and Jeanne was… “I‘m going to wait.” His lives and his lies were mixing.

Gibbs absorbed it with a serious look on his face, then quirked a corner of his mouth. “Spain could make your career, Tony.”

“I never had a family, Gibbs. I never had a chance. That‘s what I‘ve got. It‘s what I‘m keeping.” He kept his green eyes firmly on the edge of the rug, and his jaw hard. He’d had a week to think after all, another two before Gibbs had found out. It was never Spain that had robbed him of sleep.

Gibbs tapped him under the chin with two fingers, then crossed to the door. When it was half-open, Gibbs said softly, “The best agent I know, is the kind of agent I know you are. Whether it was me that made you that way… Up for debate. Maybe… dinner tomorrow?”

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a little closer than he had hoped in a long time. Jeanne was due in an hour, but he watched Gibbs until he disappeared down the stairs. “Yeah, Jethro. Sounds great.”

Heeeeeeeere, drabble, drabble.... (or ficlet as the case may be)

piwrit_queen — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 18:49:46 GMT

That's riiiiiiiiight!! Two more drabbles!!

One for denorios who requested

~*~*~
There were times when he knew he didn’t deserve the crew he had, the unit that had formed around him. Abby had skipped out an hour ago, a slow day with beautiful weather.

Maybe people were too pleased to kill each other at the moment. No sexual harassment seminars, so he wouldn’t complain. She came back, ridiculously pleased with herself, swinging an absurdly large basket on her arm.

“Gibbs. We‘re having a picnic lunch.”

“Who is having a what?” He rubbed a finger by his eyebrow as he squinted up at her from his desk in the bullpen.

“We. Us. Are having a pic-a-nic,” she jangled the basket, “out there, where it’s pretty.”

Tony poked his head up from his desk. “Who are you? What have you done with Abby?” He wandered closer and got his fingers slapped away from the basket. “What kind of sandwiches did you pack? Abby hates the sun.”

McGee and Ziva were getting curious as well.

“I will be sitting in the shade.” She turned her eyes back on Gibbs and smiled winningly. “Ducky says you should all come.” She batted her eyes outrageously.

“Doctor‘s orders, boss,” Tony conceded too willingly.

“Dr. Mallard is very knowledgeable about our health. He is always encouraging us to eat better.” Ziva couldn’t conceal her curiosity, peeking over Tony’s shoulder at the basket in question.

“I‘m sure Abby would have packed a very nutritious lunch, right Abby?” McGee was about four seconds from beating Tony with his Mighty Mouse stapler. A picnic could be just the thing.

“Absolutely, McGee.” She flipped the lid on her basket, “Heirloom Longaberger,” she told Tony in an aside who raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. “Yummy sandwiches, whole grain wheat bread, veggies, baked potato chips, pasta salad, Gloria‘s recipe, chocolate chip- no, Tony- chocolate chip cookies, a blanket big enough for all of us, annnnd-” she dragged out, smirking softly at Gibbs, “Gloria‘s French press coffee!”

He could feel the smile working its way to his lips, but he scowled for just an extra minute. He hated to disappoint the family that had cropped up without his knowledge or cultivation. Abby uncapped the thermos and he inhaled deeply as he stood.

“Aw, hell. Somebody go get Ducky. One hour, that‘s it.”

He caught Abby as she flung herself at him, the basket pressing uncomfortably into his kidney. “Yes! Thank you, Gibbs!”

She tucked her hand into his and they all fell in line behind her, trailing outside like ducks in a row. “But don‘t worry about Ducky, he and Palmer are already spreading the blanket for the us.” She offset the remark with a smile over her shoulder aimed at him, and he let his thumb brush over hers delicately.

It was a very good day for a picnic.
~*~*~

And one for driftingatdusk (who's Made To Be Broken series is NOT to be missed)

“It's me. It's always me. I‘m too much. I don‘t need these stupid boots. ”

She threw the rubber boots across the lab and listened to the dull thud the soles made against the concrete and the discordant clang of the buckles.

Stared down at her toe-sock-clad feet and sighed. “No wonder.” For the first time, she said the word like the rest of the world meant it. “Freak.”

~*~*~

It was a hot case, and Gibbs didn’t think remarking on her feet was relevant at the moment. Sometimes she did that, but usually stacked them in the office. She didn’t throw them haphazardly in the lab.

Her eyes strayed to them in the middle of an explanation, and he grew impatient. He had slapped all three of his agents much more than usual and it hadn’t really helped.

“You can put the dumb boots back on later, Abby. I need results now.” Their killer was getting farther away by the minute, he could feel it.

She recited the address, gave the cliff notes of her science, and if he noticed she shied away from his thankful cheek-kiss, he assumed it was because her feet were cold, and her boots on the other side of the room.

~*~*~

It was a bad week, a longer month and vicious all around. Abby had been threatened. Again. Tony had been stabbed in the shoulder, Ziva had her face slammed against a door, and McGee had broken his wrist. Gibbs had taken a bullet in the vest.

None of it explained her wardrobe. Or the music: levels decent, lyrics discernable. Tony was starting to give him the disapproving glares the others wouldn’t. He had a point. Abby was his. He needed to fix it before it got worse.

She gave a disinterested glance at his offering of Caf-Pow. Sipped at it half-heartedly. “Don‘t have anything for you, Gibbs-man.”

He cast around for a moment, then opened his arms. “Got something for you.”

She crossed to him in dark jeans and low heels, a simple long-sleeved shirt in a soft blue. Her hair was a low, short ponytail.

She looked pretty and feminine and like she had stepped out of a catalogue for edgy professionals.

Every piece of it freaked him out more than her pigtails and black lipstick ever had on her first day.

He closed his arms around her. “New look.”

She gave him a careful once-over and stepped back a little. Nodded, tried to pull on a ponytail that wasn’t there.

“Well,” he started to drop his hands and they brushed against the hollow of her spine. What should have been the hollow of her spine.

His soothing tone fell to a flat, terse demand, and his hands stiffened instinctively. “Is that--”

“It‘s just for protection!”

“We protect you!” he roared. “Is that what all this is about?” He took in her clothes with a gesture and watched her flush.

“What‘s wrong with it, Gibbs? I‘m an adult, I should dress like one.”

The cold feeling in his stomach told him that he should have stopped this when it started, that it had gone on too long. He needed someone to hit. “Who the hell told you that?”

“No one, I just-”

“And when did you start listening to assholes?”

“He‘s not a asshole-”

“But he‘s no one?”

“Stop interrogating me!”

He took a deep breath and one step closer, watched her fold in on herself. “Who?”

She sniffed softly and looked away. “It doesn’t matter, Gibbs.”

“Matters to me.”

“You‘re still getting results.”

He admonished her with a look and traced a careful sign against her cheek. “You‘re scaring the children, Abs. Tony is freaked out, acting like a mother hen. McGee‘s tried to tell me three times himself.”

“Running people over with your personality isn‘t-”

“-something even you can do if they aren‘t weak, stupid bastards anyway.”

He pulled her in close again, helped her rest her head against his chest while he divested her, gently but thoroughly, of the gun.

“I always overwhelm them, Gibbs.”

“Not the people that matter.” He’d been doing well, so predictably, those were the wrong words.

“Even you don’t like it, Gibbs.”

“Putting words in my mouth, Abby? They aren‘t the right ones.” He was trying to be calm, but the thought of her dismissing him in the group of men who chased her to… to regulation heels and blue clothing gets his back up.

“Don‘t have to when you spit them out yourself.”

“I never-”

“Dumb shoes, damn music, silly skirts, Gibbs.”

“Abby I never-”

“You like the look? Hence the redhead in the convertible, of course, and Tony… He loves the goth girls. Can‘t get enough of the tiny, little blonde cheerleaders, so… Oh wait, scratch that. And McGee. With his… his cookie-baking, lady bugged Gina-Marie's!” She gave him a scathing once over.

“Men like to look at me, Gibbs. But they never. Ever. Wanna keep me.”

Gibbs had officially had enough. His hand was firm around her arm and he stared steadily into her eyes. “I know exactly how old you are, Abby. Dumb shoes always make me look at your legs. Damn music means I can‘t hear you laughing. Silly skirts try to make me stare at… Well, I try not to. But I have damn well kept you the best way I know how for nine years.”

She colors, then stares at him wonderingly. “Rule twelve-”

“-is there for a reason.” That he damns viciously when he looks at her face. He weighs the fallout against her further unhappiness and the fact that Ziva and Tony have probably-

“I keep you this way so I can‘t hurt you, Abs.” It’s the gentlest way he can explain it to her. That there are at least thirty reasons he keeps handy for occasions like this.

She nods thoughtfully. “So other people will in your place.”

It is a gut-wrenching low blow, but he takes it with barely a flinch. He doesn’t like the implications, and he needs just a few hours to wrap his head around what he’s considering.

“Come over after work.”

“I have-”

“-to cancel with a substitution and be at my house after work.” He tugs at the end of her single ponytail. “Wear this up. I miss them.” His mind slightly more at ease, especially after she accepted his kiss to the her cheek, maybe closer to her ear than before, he returned to the bullpen.

Tony watched him closely, eyebrow arched silently.

He nodded once at his senior field agent, and the half-smile on Gibbs’ face relaxes DiNozzo’s posture.

Abby was his girl, after all. He could handle it.

It's a good excuse to be a bad influence on you and you and you!

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 20:32:09 GMT

Okay... This is the drabble grab bag!! Keep checking back while I update. I'm going to put the name of the request-ee, pairing, prompt, and rating!

At least, that's how its working out so far. :)

onlyonechoice (you dirty trollop) asked for, and recieved:

t's invariably wrong, he thinks. Abby is sweet and light, and gives him the soft edges his life so often lacks. So why is it, while he pushes into her from behind, one ponytail wrapped around his fist, her cunt clamping tight around his cock and her choking cries echoing as he slaps at her ever-redder ass, he feels better than ever? She bucks and rears, and he pulls out with a raw shout, spilling into the hollow her spine and lower back make. It is nasty and vicious, there are hand marks and bruises all over her body, but she is purring like a well-loved kitten, and he realizes with a last nip to her flaring hipbone, pulling her close, that he could get used to this.-

Jeanne has been gone for eighteen days, and he can't feel anything. It's bizarre, and he hates it. Abby nudges him but it's only in the gym, his knuckles raw against the bag, his shoulders burning and his breath harsh in his own ears that it's almost there. He almost feels.

So when Gibbs finds him on night eighteen, in the dark, he steers his senior agent towards the mats and they go hard, hand-to-hand. Tony holds nothing back from Gibbs, and doesn't have to worry about hurting him with his thrusts or jabs or kicks. They fight the entire length of the gym, and finally, because the only thing Tony has on Gibbs is his ability to pop back up, over and over and over again, no matter how many times he's smacked down, Gibbs is cornered. Maybe he lets it happen. Tony doesn't care. He's finally got Gibbs into a corner, and all he's doing is deflecting the blows Tony is throwing wildly, desperately. It's his final two inches of height on Gibbs that he uses, and stares brokenly into blue eyes.

"I hate you." Because it's Gibbs who brought him here, held him here over the years and it's Gibbs who will take this emptiness and give him something real to hold on to. So when Tony, with nothing to lose, crashes his mouth over Gibbs, he expects one last blow. When his boss's hands tighten into his hair, and his teeth sink hard into his lip, the pain finally breaks through and fills the emptiness, and he surrenders.-

She hands the sketch to the bald man, ink running down his forearms in beautiful designs, Japanese in style, and pulls off her shirt. This is a ritual, and he has seen her in every mood.

"Hey Jack." This is not a good one.

"Abby." He looks at the paper she's thrust into his hand, studies the lines, the curving flow that ends in wicked points. "You're not Jewish."

"She was more than a killer."

"I'm sorry."

"It's how she would have wanted..." She bites back the words, and stuffs them into the grief inside herself. Ziva would understand. "Mark me."-
</div>

ncis_love asked for and received (though maybe not what she was thinking)

He looks across the bedroom at Tony, and Abby on her knees between them, ass stuck sweetly into the air moving rhythmically back and forth.

He wipes the sweat out of his eyes, his arms almost feeling weak. Tony meets his eyes with a wicked grin at the same time Abs gives him a naughty smile over her shoulder.

She keeps painting the baseboard, and Tony the walls. Gibbs rolls his shoulders with a groan and gets back to painting the ceiling. Habitat wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when Abby suggested a dirty, sweaty weekend away. He watches her ass for a moment longer, and decides that there’s always next weekend.-

Tick tick tick… One.

She kisses his left cheek, then his right, teasingly. They nuzzle their cheeks close together, bodies pressed close but hands at their sides, still.

Tick tick tick… Two.

He whispers that this is ridiculous. She answers that he needs more silly in his life. He’s been too serious lately.

His hands skim the air over her arms, not quite touching, while he tells her that he really loved Jeanne. She says she knows.

Tick tick tick… Three.

He brushes her bangs back and kisses her tenderly, sweetly, and takes what she offers: a gentle reprieve, soft reassurance.

Tick tick tick… Four.

When he stops searching for a taste he won’t find in her mouth, he feels less desperate.

Tick tick tick… Five.

She gives him the control he craves, lets him pin her wrists gently to the door behind her while he explores her mouth and body. He wants, so much, to give, so she takes.

Tick, tick, tick… Six.

She keeps it light. Escapism, high school style, tracing his face with soft fingertips and soothing his burning eyes and twisting soul.

Tick, tick, tick… Seven.

The door opens to Abby’s cheering, if slightly drunk, friends. He lands a last soft kiss on her lips as they step out of the linen closet. She’s given him more than seven minutes. She’s given him his heart back.-

imacartwright asked for
While Gibbs tended to hate occasions where dress clothes were required, he made it a point to never complain when he was asked to stand in at Veteran affairs.

Real veterans, that was. Not politicians. But for the real men who served, who fought, who died, who wished they could… For them he would wear the blue.

He smirked, just a tiny bit, looking out at the twilight beyond his bedroom window, not remembering his uniform being that tight.

His cover was already off, gloves neatly hanging off the edge of the dresser, and his white belt was wound tightly next to them.

He started to pop the buttons at his high stiff collar, and worked his way down, half-distracted thinking about the day, the old comrades he had seen, banded together by the blue that was in his veins, in his heart.

He hadn’t even heard the door open, but he did eventually hear the floor creaking just behind him. He turned to see Abby’s mouth half-open in greeting.

Gibbs was a practical man, he saw Abby every day, and he saw her in less than this. But it felt different, he realized, his hand poised on a button halfway down his chest.

She hadn’t spoken yet, her eyes had snagged on his fingers, and when she met his gaze, hers was almost feral; hot and wanting in a way that actually shocked him.

Abby was a flirt, with all of them, even Ziva. He always let her remarks slide, appreciating them, maybe storing them up for rainy days. Abby had a way of making anyone feel better.

But the way she was looking at him was unmistakable. All woman, all open, no holds barred, aching want.

His eyebrow twitched up, a fraction, and he let his fingers slowly move a button through its slitted home. He willed the tremor away, hoping he was right, that she wanted this.

Him.

Her pupils encroached dangerously on the jade of her eyes and she unconsciously licked her lips, her breath catching when he mimicked her, unthinking. She reached a hand out and he took one neat step back, holding her still with his eyes while he unhurriedly unbuttoned his entire tunic, his standard white crewneck underneath.

He felt like he had been rewarded when she swallowed, hard, as he trailed his hand flat down his chest, to pop the tab on his trousers.

As he drew down the zipper, though, the broken moan, from simply staring, looking at him, strained his erection against his standard white cotton boxers.

“Abby…” Her name drew her to him like a leash, and he couldn’t stop the smirk when she answered him fervently.

“Yes. Sir.”

Indecent proposal.

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 14:40:11 GMT

Sorry, no fic, just futzing about my day and week.

I got an Eee PC, and it's SOOOOOOOO tiny!! The keys are mega small and the screen is barely nine inches.

I love it.

I'm typing on a standard keyboard now, and my fingers feel like they're stretching hugely. Also, Facebook (eater of souls) has sucked me in again with the "Five Things" application.

Five people I want to see naked:

Tony DiNozzo
Robert Downey Jr.
Vanessa Ferlito
Billy Idol
You.

Yeah you.

So. Since I just insulted your honor, or you body image, or titillated you, I owe you, or you owe me.

A'right Sparky, here's the deal:

Leave me a pairing, or prompt, and I will write you a drabble. Give me a color, a feel, a phrase, and I'll make it happen by Sunday. Bring it on. Get my juices flowing again.

45 Seconds

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 04:27:07 GMT

Title: 45 Seconds
Rating: PG
Summary: Gibbs will keep her in that tower, safely locked away behind Rule Twelve, and Redhead Seven.

Welcome Home

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 04:13:09 GMT

Title : Welcome Home
Rating: NC-17
Category: Romance, smut, friendship
Pairing: Tony/Abby
Summary:

A Tony-shaped thing always leaves a trail. Like his personality is too big to disappear from a space, so he fills it up, and when he leaves, there are Tony-shaped fingerprints over everything to remind you here was there.

St. Jude: Patron saint of cops and lost causes

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 03:38:35 GMT

Title: St. Jude
Rating: Pg-13-ish for some swears?
Author's notes: I do truly encourage checking out the prayer Ziva says, it's a beautiful Hebrew benediction for the wounded or ill. For the record, not Catholic, but know just about a thousand of them. That said, mea culpa for any errors.
Summary:

She could tell herself that as much as she wanted. That the science made her safe, that the knowledge lessened the blow. But every time he wound up in the hospital, it broke something inside her she knew she wouldn’t get back.

Dancing

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 03:29:29 GMT

Title: Dancing
Rating: PG-13-ish, swears again. Abby can't help it.
Summary:

She smiled over her shoulder, started a Miles Davis playlist, and the jazz unwound smoothly under the power of the storm, reminding her of things she loved. After that, she was out of pity though.

Alchemy of Hope

piwrit_queen — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 01:13:05 GMT

Alchemy of Hope
Title: Alchemy of Hope
Rating: R-ish?
Author's notes: Omg, I have some this time. Every scent in this piece can be deeeee-rectly attributed to The Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. If you don't think their stuff is incredible, I don't think we can be friends. ;)
Summary:

Gibbs was a careful lover. He knew that his strength and hands could be rough; had inflicted pain much more often than giving pleasure, which was why he was so soft with women. He enjoyed being able to be gentle with them. It made him more than what he feared was left of himself sometimes.

But the way she smelled, with smoky undertones… something he couldn’t… He wanted to sink his teeth in the delicate skin adorned with ink, feel her sweat-slicked body slip through his rough hands, arching, trembling, leaving thumbprint bruises like tats she’d choose on the indents of her hipbones.

Wanted to see her wicked red lips, usually turned in flirtatious smiles, open, gasping for ragged breath. Heavily ringed fingers twisting in dark sheets, helpless beneath him.

Unofficial Channels (nc-17)

piwrit_queen — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 19:03:49 GMT

Unofficial Channels
Title: Unofficial Channels
Pairing: Abby/Gibbs
Rating: FRAO, liek Woah. I do not wanna be responsible for scalding your eyeballz, so if you are not legal, please don't set your mom on me.
Author's Notes: This is ALL chirugal 's fault. Encouragement should be, ya know, monitored. This came from my fruitless hoping about "Toxic".

It went like this:
Possessive!Gibbs, Poaching!Fornell. Gibbs is sick of Fornell borrowing his people without permission, so he files an informal complaint.

This is also my very first NCIS porn. So, you could probably tell from the keyboard vomit, huh? Also, the song I've listed? Gives a nice little dirty edge to this.

Kinks: Voyerism, or exhibitionism, depending on which side of the room you're on. I mentioned Fornell, right? Fornell in my Gabby porn. Does that make it Fibby? Christ.
Summary:

“Fornell‘s having a little trouble understanding what my people means.”

Welcome, welcome!

piwrit_queen — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 01:30:11 GMT

Here there be fic!

Ii will be using this as YayQueenRudi's fic journal. So look here for Broken Mirrors, and any works in progress.

Shortly, there'll be some Tibbs, too. OMG I know, right?

Gimme a few days and check the memories for fic!