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Title: Male Attic-Bonding
Word Count: 1000
Pairing/Featured Characters: Gibbs/Tony pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Warnings and/or Spoilers: Slight, slight spoiler for Missing. Blink, and you'll miss it.
Author's Notes: Written for the "Storm Photo" challenge over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ncis1000words. Thanks goes to my friend Kelly, who beta'd for me.
Summary: “Acknowledging that it's a cliché doesn't make it any less stupid or more original, DiNozzo.”
“This sucks.”
“Well yeah, DiNozzo, but whining about it isn't going to make it any better.”
Tony sighed. “Makes me feel better.”
“And you're giving me a headache, so whine to yourself in your own goddamn head.”
Tony resisted the urge to grumble. He didn't think Gibbs wouldn't slap him upside the head just because he bumped it a little. He had tripped on a raised floorboard in the attic of the house they were searching, causing him to flail his arms comically before losing his balance, thunking his head sharply against an ancient armoire. The commotion from the aforementioned thunking was what had lured Gibbs up into the dank attic in the first place.
While Tony had clutched his head pitifully and muttered dark threats at a stubbornly silent armoire, Gibbs had climbed the ladder into the attic. After surmising that they were alone, he had knelt down to see if Tony was okay (or possibly rip his head off). However, before Gibbs could even open his mouth, the sound of scuffling reached their ears, and Tony turned his head just in time to see a slender hand, presumably belonging to the woman whom they were hunting, shoot up and yank the trap door closed. Gibbs had apparently seen the attic hatch close too, for he was letting out a string of inventive curses befitting a Marine of his stature. Tony wasn't even sure that some of the things Gibbs had said were humanly (or inhumanly, for that matter) possible.
And so they were stuck in the attic.
With no cell phone signal.
And windows that didn't open.
Did Tony ever mention how much he hated windows that didn't open?
Tony stopped himself before he could sigh again. He really didn't feel like being on the receiving end of one of Gibbs' patented “shut up or I'll shoot you in the knee-cap” glares. Instead, he opted for talking, which, now that he thought about it, really wasn't any better than sighing.
“You know,” Tony said casually, sitting on a dusty trunk, “this situation would have been perfect if you had been a woman.”
Gibbs glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about, DiNozzo?”
“Think about it boss!” Tony's eyes lit up. “It's the perfect cliché that girls get all schmoopy over. Two people, locked in a room with no foreseeable way out, with nothing to do but-”
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked.
“But you know,” Tony prattled on, “given that this is such a cliché-”
“Acknowledging that it's a cliché doesn't make it any less stupid or more original, DiNozzo.” Gibbs growled.
Tony opened his mouth to retort, but a resounding thunder clap interrupted him, making him jump a little. Sheets of rain began pelting the windows and roof, and Gibbs glared outside grumpily, brow furrowed.
“That only adds to the ambiance.” Tony grinned.
“Shut up, DiNozzo.”
“It's kind of funny, boss.”
“It's fucking embarrassing, is what it is.”
“Well yeah,” Tony winced, “but it's not like it's our fault.”
“No. It's more like your fault.”
Tony grew indignant. “Hey, it's totally not my fault that these floorboards haven't been replaced since the mid-nineteenth century.”
“A good agent is always aware of his surroundings. And that includes faulty floorboards.”
That rained on Tony's parade (no pun intended). He cringed, and slumped a little on his trunk. Of course Gibbs would say that. It's what Gibbs did; he unashamedly pointed out your faults. Apparently, Tony's fault was that he was a crappy agent. He drew in on himself, and he deliberately schooled his features to bored impassivity. A smart cuff to the side of his head stopped his little pity party.
“Hey! I'm injured here!”
“You hit the other side of your head, quit whining.”
“Ducky would-”
“Ducky isn't here. I'm here.”
Silence settled between them, and Tony kept his eyes firmly glued to the floor. When Gibbs made no move to speak, Tony started shifting restlessly, jerking his left leg in a spastic jig. A warm hand settled on the leg, stilling it, and Tony was startled to see that Gibbs was sitting next to him on the trunk. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs cut him off.
“I meant what I said. Earlier.”
Tony's brow furrowed. “What did you say?” The only thing that Tony could remember from earlier was Gibbs barking at him to stop juggling McGee's office supplies.
“That you're irreplaceable.”
Tony blinked. “Boss, that was three years ago.”
“I shouldn't have to say it often, dammit!” Gibbs spat, frustrated. His glare softened. “You say it too often, and it starts losing its meaning.”
Tony didn't know what to say about that, so he ducked his head again. The thunderstorm raged outside, and Tony was briefly grateful that they were locked in the attic, and not in the leaky barn out back. A particularly deafening thunderclap rocked the house, and Tony jumped.
“Easy, DiNozzo. I don't want to have to explain the smell of piss to the others when they find us.”
Tony glared at Gibbs. “I'm not gonna piss myself, boss.” Tony shifted and scratched at his head. “Thunder spooks me, that's all.”
Gibbs stared at him, and Tony stared back. Something in Tony's gaze must have said something he couldn't, because Gibbs merely nodded. Tony decided that he wasn't going to deal with it at the moment. He didn't feel like sharing his secrets with Gibbs, even if he had somewhat bonded with the older man. Kind of.
Tony resumed shifting. The storm outside didn't help the silence inside, so Tony was forced to strike up another conversation.
“This reminds me of this one movie-”
“DiNozzo-”
“No, really boss, it's a great movie, it's got-”
“I don't want to hear about another one of your stupid movies.”
“But boss-”
Another slap to the back of the head was his reward. Tony rubbed the sore spot, gearing to retort, but stopped short when he saw a small smile on Gibbs' face. Tony's eyes lit up, and he grinned broadly.
And he was only mildly surprised to find that he didn't mind Gibbs' hand still resting on his thigh.
Word Count: 1000
Pairing/Featured Characters: Gibbs/Tony pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Warnings and/or Spoilers: Slight, slight spoiler for Missing. Blink, and you'll miss it.
Author's Notes: Written for the "Storm Photo" challenge over at
ncis1000words. Thanks goes to my friend Kelly, who beta'd for me.Summary: “Acknowledging that it's a cliché doesn't make it any less stupid or more original, DiNozzo.”
“This sucks.”
“Well yeah, DiNozzo, but whining about it isn't going to make it any better.”
Tony sighed. “Makes me feel better.”
“And you're giving me a headache, so whine to yourself in your own goddamn head.”
Tony resisted the urge to grumble. He didn't think Gibbs wouldn't slap him upside the head just because he bumped it a little. He had tripped on a raised floorboard in the attic of the house they were searching, causing him to flail his arms comically before losing his balance, thunking his head sharply against an ancient armoire. The commotion from the aforementioned thunking was what had lured Gibbs up into the dank attic in the first place.
While Tony had clutched his head pitifully and muttered dark threats at a stubbornly silent armoire, Gibbs had climbed the ladder into the attic. After surmising that they were alone, he had knelt down to see if Tony was okay (or possibly rip his head off). However, before Gibbs could even open his mouth, the sound of scuffling reached their ears, and Tony turned his head just in time to see a slender hand, presumably belonging to the woman whom they were hunting, shoot up and yank the trap door closed. Gibbs had apparently seen the attic hatch close too, for he was letting out a string of inventive curses befitting a Marine of his stature. Tony wasn't even sure that some of the things Gibbs had said were humanly (or inhumanly, for that matter) possible.
And so they were stuck in the attic.
With no cell phone signal.
And windows that didn't open.
Did Tony ever mention how much he hated windows that didn't open?
Tony stopped himself before he could sigh again. He really didn't feel like being on the receiving end of one of Gibbs' patented “shut up or I'll shoot you in the knee-cap” glares. Instead, he opted for talking, which, now that he thought about it, really wasn't any better than sighing.
“You know,” Tony said casually, sitting on a dusty trunk, “this situation would have been perfect if you had been a woman.”
Gibbs glared at him. “What the hell are you talking about, DiNozzo?”
“Think about it boss!” Tony's eyes lit up. “It's the perfect cliché that girls get all schmoopy over. Two people, locked in a room with no foreseeable way out, with nothing to do but-”
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked.
“But you know,” Tony prattled on, “given that this is such a cliché-”
“Acknowledging that it's a cliché doesn't make it any less stupid or more original, DiNozzo.” Gibbs growled.
Tony opened his mouth to retort, but a resounding thunder clap interrupted him, making him jump a little. Sheets of rain began pelting the windows and roof, and Gibbs glared outside grumpily, brow furrowed.
“That only adds to the ambiance.” Tony grinned.
“Shut up, DiNozzo.”
“It's kind of funny, boss.”
“It's fucking embarrassing, is what it is.”
“Well yeah,” Tony winced, “but it's not like it's our fault.”
“No. It's more like your fault.”
Tony grew indignant. “Hey, it's totally not my fault that these floorboards haven't been replaced since the mid-nineteenth century.”
“A good agent is always aware of his surroundings. And that includes faulty floorboards.”
That rained on Tony's parade (no pun intended). He cringed, and slumped a little on his trunk. Of course Gibbs would say that. It's what Gibbs did; he unashamedly pointed out your faults. Apparently, Tony's fault was that he was a crappy agent. He drew in on himself, and he deliberately schooled his features to bored impassivity. A smart cuff to the side of his head stopped his little pity party.
“Hey! I'm injured here!”
“You hit the other side of your head, quit whining.”
“Ducky would-”
“Ducky isn't here. I'm here.”
Silence settled between them, and Tony kept his eyes firmly glued to the floor. When Gibbs made no move to speak, Tony started shifting restlessly, jerking his left leg in a spastic jig. A warm hand settled on the leg, stilling it, and Tony was startled to see that Gibbs was sitting next to him on the trunk. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs cut him off.
“I meant what I said. Earlier.”
Tony's brow furrowed. “What did you say?” The only thing that Tony could remember from earlier was Gibbs barking at him to stop juggling McGee's office supplies.
“That you're irreplaceable.”
Tony blinked. “Boss, that was three years ago.”
“I shouldn't have to say it often, dammit!” Gibbs spat, frustrated. His glare softened. “You say it too often, and it starts losing its meaning.”
Tony didn't know what to say about that, so he ducked his head again. The thunderstorm raged outside, and Tony was briefly grateful that they were locked in the attic, and not in the leaky barn out back. A particularly deafening thunderclap rocked the house, and Tony jumped.
“Easy, DiNozzo. I don't want to have to explain the smell of piss to the others when they find us.”
Tony glared at Gibbs. “I'm not gonna piss myself, boss.” Tony shifted and scratched at his head. “Thunder spooks me, that's all.”
Gibbs stared at him, and Tony stared back. Something in Tony's gaze must have said something he couldn't, because Gibbs merely nodded. Tony decided that he wasn't going to deal with it at the moment. He didn't feel like sharing his secrets with Gibbs, even if he had somewhat bonded with the older man. Kind of.
Tony resumed shifting. The storm outside didn't help the silence inside, so Tony was forced to strike up another conversation.
“This reminds me of this one movie-”
“DiNozzo-”
“No, really boss, it's a great movie, it's got-”
“I don't want to hear about another one of your stupid movies.”
“But boss-”
Another slap to the back of the head was his reward. Tony rubbed the sore spot, gearing to retort, but stopped short when he saw a small smile on Gibbs' face. Tony's eyes lit up, and he grinned broadly.
And he was only mildly surprised to find that he didn't mind Gibbs' hand still resting on his thigh.
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It actually gave me temporary headache relief. :)
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Your icon makes me giggle..
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And thanks! - yours made me giggle as well. :D
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Also? How CUTE were they both. Neither being 'girly', but being affectionate all the same. Awesome.
(Also, really, really fast turn around on that prompt. You rule. :)
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And what can I say - that prompt inspired me. :D
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So sweet! :-D
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lol
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Thanks!
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LOL re: the office supply juggling - it really could've been taken straight out of an NCIS episode, absolutely!
I hope the boys will be trapped in that attic a while longer so that Gibbs can kiss Tony's owwie all better and cuddle his boy while he sleeps off the headache... *hint, hint*
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I'll probably write a sequel of sorts to it in the near future... *cough*
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I especially loved this:
“I meant what I said. Earlier.”
....
Tony blinked. “Boss, that was three years ago.”
LOL! Gibbs would casually bring something up three years later and just assume Tony knew what he meant. Awesome.
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And I'm glad you liked! :D
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:-)
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I wish they would put it on the show. It'd be SO funny.
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Very them- Tony talking and fidgeting to fill the silence, while Gibbs is perfectly happy with that silence. I'm glad they bonded a little :).
Laura.
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Thank you for the feedback! :D
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Very nice and in character, for both of them. Oh, boys.
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Oh, Gibbs. Somehow you manage to be both the best boss and the worst boss, at the same time. It's quite a gift. *g*
(I really liked this story a lot.)
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Gibbs has a lot of gifts... *g*
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