NCIS Great Grid Challenge Fic

Mountain (100 words)

Sunrise (100 words)

Desert (100 words)

Drink (100 words)

Storm (100 words)

Beginnings (100 words)

Sea (521 words)

Heat (654 words)

Gun ( 670 words)

Dry (717 words)

Jealousy (725 words)

Fall (828 words) (Sequel to Gun)

Mountain

Gibbs was definitely a bear without his coffee, and he was a snarling bear with a thorn in his paw, or rather a pin in his ankle, after he was shot by a suspect fleeing the scene.

“What is that?” McGee asked, squeezing passed the covered cart Tony had wedged in the elevator. “The mountain for Mohammed,” Tony replied.

Tony pushed his cart to Gibb’s desk and whisked the cover away. “Only the best espresso maker available at 0500 for you, Boss. Indulge a little.” He tossed the apron to Ziva. “The Barista Girl I hired didn’t clear with security.”

Sunrise

Tony used to think sunsets were romantic devices used to get the champagne flowing early so he could still make his second date of the evening at the late show. On the other hand, sunrises were less popular devices to get the woman out of bed, sobered up with coffee and sent home before his partner/landlord/girlfriend met her.

Now sunsets were a pain in the ass if the glare on a dirty windshield blocked the view on a stakeout and sunrises meant a Gibb’s shaped dent in the mattress Tony burrowed into for extra warmth, refusing to acknowledge the time.

Desert

Gibbs hated the desert. Not hard to figure out why, he he hated being away from the water and his boat. He hated feeling like he would shrivel up and blow away.

He hated the beach almost as much because--

“You look a little dusty, Boss.” DiNozzo had his shirt off and had sand stuck to his skin from the volleyball game.

Sand. He just hated sand everywhere he wasn’t.

Instead of the proffered bottle of water, Gibbs wanted to lick the beads of sweat from Tony’s collarbone and hear him babble curses like a brook flowing over clean rocks.

Drink

Gibbs had never struck Tony as a two beer queer.

That was partially right, anyway. Gibbs didn’t drink beer.

And he wasn’t the typical trip and race you to the ground trick that laughed and half-heartedly protested and swore it had never happened before.

Tony was the one it had never happened to before.

He’d never had a man he respected eye fuck him over a glass of scotch in a dimly lit restaurant while sitting between their other colleagues and then walk away before Tony could liberate his arm from the pretty waitress slipping her number in his coat.

Storm

Sex with Tony was like riding out a rough storm on the sea. He got knocked around by elbows and knees because Tony was unpredictable and strong but he could get a rhythm with the waves and rocking back and forth hard, letting yourself be sucked under, there was nothing like it. Everything was wet and slippery when the wind really started to blow and Gibbs got high, trying to stay on top and watch the eye circle around until dead calm. And then hang on tight.

Sleeping with Tony wasn’t smart, but neither was building a boat in his basement.

Beginnings

Tony lumbered down the stairs into Gibbs’ basement and Gibbs looked up from the boat. “Boss!”

Gibbs didn’t stop sanding. “What are you doing here, DiNozzo?”

Tony threw his arms out and breathed deeply. “Since Chip is safely behind bars and I’m not, it’s a new beginning and I’m savoring my freedom, I’m celebrating, I’m--”

“Horny,” Gibbs grunted.

Tony’s arms fell and he staggered dramatically toward Gibbs. “God, yes. All that time in lock-up, I didn’t dare think about it.” He shuddered. “Boss, I’m too pretty for--”

“Shut up, just--” Gibbs grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

Sea

Tony peeled off the silk shirt that was sticking to his back. He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. White Shoulders still reminded him of his grandmother. Even if he had been interested in the woman he’d met in the lounge during the karaoke contest, that scent would’ve definitely killed his libido faster than Gibbs’ jealous stare—

Tony grinned back. He dropped the shirt and unbuckled his belt. Actually, Gibbs’ stare did nothing but pour jet fuel on his libido and that rocket was ready launch anytime now.

“What are you doing?” Gibbs asked, still rifling through the papers on the hotel room’s small desk. A surreptitious check confirmed all none essential material—room service menu, area maps, free stationery—had been swept into the garbage can so Gibbs could focus on finishing his presentation. And he’d been working on it since Tony picked him up that morning, during the flight, skipping the meet-and-greet dinner, so—

“Getting ready for bed.”

Gibbs shoulders squared off as he stood and Tony fought the impulse to check if McGee was behind him because what did he do?”

“You think that’s a good idea, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, eyes squinting slightly into his perturbed look.

Tony’s smile only faltered briefly. “Yeah, Boss. It’s a conference, not a stake-out. You’re supposed to get plenty of rest.” He punctuated his point with the audible pop of the button on his trousers.

Gibbs continued to glare and Tony shrugged impudently. “I said rest, not sleep.”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs snarled, without much bite—almost resignedly. He turned off the lamp and not one to miss an opportunity, Tony shucked his pants off faster than a greased pig, almost tipping over when Gibbs brushed past—then paused, lips to Tony’s ear as he struggled with his socks. “I meant, not without a shower first. You smell like--.”

“I didn’t touch her!” Tony’s hands were up defensively before he saw Gibbs’ lips twitch. And the eyes, when the eyes started to crinkle fighting off laughter, Tony knew he’d been—was about to be—had.

“—like an ashtray.”

“People smoke in bars, Boss, it’s like a law,” Tony started automatically before his brain caught up, “except in New York-- alright, back in a snap. See if you can find one of those ‘magic finger’ boxes on the bed, will ya?”

Gibbs scowled at the bed like it would molest him. “I hate those things.”

“What? Nobody hates magic fingers unless--” Tony paused, quickly calculating his escape route, “they get seasick.”

Gibbs’ eyes flashed and Tony barely cleared the bathroom, unable to close the door, before Gibbs was on him. He almost missed Gibbs’ growling, “I’ll show you seasick,” over the loud blast of shower spray.

He was spun around, vision blurring cross-eyed at the scallop shell tile border centimeters from his nose. He yelped when his boxers tore along the seam, Gibbs impatiently taking a short cut to getting him totally naked.

It was already costing him more than a quarter, he thought dimly, but when Gibbs’ wet hand was squeezing him, he’d pay anything.

He had the best magic fingers.

Heat

“I am not used to such extreme temperatures,” Ziva said once again.

Tony didn’t feel any real sympathy. He tried to warn her when Gibbs gave them the assignment. “I already gave you my scarf,” he reminded her. Her nose had been so red he just couldn’t look at it anymore. Now only her eyes and hair were visible outside the bundle huddled against the passenger door.

“I think we need to conserve body heat,” she insisted. When her mouth poked out to speak, her breath fogged the window and Tony had to lean over and rub the condensation from her side so he could keep the entrance in view.

She tried to clutch at him and her ungloved fingers were so stiff they just poked at his coat. “Yeah, okay,” he finally conceded. She’d be no use to him if she couldn’t hold a weapon.

He tugged off his gloves and handed them to her, then moved the arm rest between them and slid over. She grimaced slightly when her fingers slid into his warm gloves, the heat being almost too much. He felt a twinge of guilt as she snuggled against his side and sighed. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, tugging her closer. He wrapped his arms around her and jammed his fists into her pockets, locking her in. “I mean it. Don’t.” Gibbs would have his ass for letting her go out unprepared, even when she said could handle the cold and he knew she couldn’t.

She twisted around, dislodging his hands and he groaned. Right, they needed to stay focused. He unzipped his jacket a little and shoved his hands under his armpits. His breath hitched and he squeezed himself tighter when her foot started nudging under his pant leg. “Uh, Ziva--” He felt his sock being nudged down and he chuckled knowingly, despite the cold air against skin. “I knew you wanted me, but I have to tell yo—WHOA!”

Tony tried to slap her away, but his arms were pinned in his coat and she clung like a chimp, giggling madly as she struggled to keep her icy toes against his skin.

“Put your shoes on,” he sputtered before the chill burning his leg turned him into a total block of ice. “No wonder you’re cold!”

“Clothing restricts circulation,” she panted in his ear. Somehow she managed to get a knee between his legs and he curled into himself instinctively, remembering last time. When her knee came up higher and she leaned away a little for room so she could tuck her foot in, he finally worked a hand free and drew his gun.

She was not putting her foot there!

***

Tony stood under Gibbs’ shower until all the hot water was gone and he still hadn’t thawed out. When he turned off the taps, Gibbs handed him a towel and inspected him for any remaining blue tinge under the scalded skin. Tony really hoped he didn’t have pasty cracked lips anymore because that wasn’t really sexy when trying to seduce your way into someone’s cozy bed and Gibbs looked so warm and inviting in his worn t-shirt and gym pants, even sweating a little in the steamy confines of the bathroom.

“You know,” Tony tried not to let his teeth clack together as he spoke, “they say shared body heat is the best way to treat hypothermia.”

Gibbs smacked him lightly on the back of the head to remind he didn’t really have hypothermia. He took the towel and ruffled Tony’s hair dry.

“I’m just saying--”

Gibbs let the towel fall around Tony’s shoulder, hanging onto the ends briefly before he stepped back. “The only time someone suggests they want to share body heat is when they don’t have any.” He handed Tony the glass of scotch sitting by the sink. “That’ll heat you up. Then you can come to bed.”

Gun

He saw Gibbs watching the rearview mirror as they turned onto his street. "She there?"

"Yeah." Gibbs parked in front of Tony's apartment. He still hated the idea of McGee and Ziva in his apartment to set up the op, he was sure he’d be looking for bugs for a year, but Gibbs’ house wouldn't work because Gibbs was supposed to be a married officer cheating with a man.

The wedding band on Gibbs finger gleamed under the streetlight and Tony wondered if he was getting a rash wearing one again.

Tony turned to Gibbs as the light blue Honda slowly passed. He figured she was still watching in her mirror as she cruised his block so he leaned in and kissed Gibbs again. It was just a light peck this time; he wasn't risking another scene like at the bar. After Gibbs cruised Tony for the benefit of their suspect, Gibbs had sucked his tonsils out in the parking lot. They were shadowed, like the other victims who admitted to semi-private groping after discreet pick-ups inside, and Tony was grateful because it took all of his willpower not to grind against Gibbs and beg. He'd wanted to do that for a long time.

But Gibbs had a gun.

Which he'd felt digging into his ribs when Gibbs had him flattened against the car. The bruised spot still ached as he stretched over the space between their seats now. He had one hand on the drink holder between them and the other balanced carefully on Gibbs hard thigh. Not too high up.

At the touch Gibbs’ hand flew up on the back of his neck, but he didn't push Tony away. Their lips were millimeters apart and Tony could feel Gibbs' words vibrate between them. "What are you doing?"

Tony grinned slyly. "Making sure she knows you want me."

Gibbs’ other hand came up under his jacket and surprised, Tony self-consciously sucked in a breath to make sure the burrito lunch wasn't bulging anywhere. "DiNozzo," Gibbs warned low. Given their position, Tony let himself pretend the tone was for McGee and Ziva's benefit because Gibbs' fingers dug possessively into his skin until he jumped.

His love handles were ticklish and Tony's hand slipped off Gibbs thigh, landing between his legs. He froze, precariously balanced on his fist jammed against Gibbs' groin. Gibbs' head fell back against the seat in shock, his teeth bared.

"Uh, Boss, she's parked one block East, heading your way," McGee cut in over the radio.

“Got her,” Ziva replied from her post across the street.

"Move it," Gibbs rasped. He pushed at Tony’s shoulder. "I want you inside before she picks you off on the sidewalk."

"I'm not the one she's after," Tony reminded him, trying to smoothly regain his balance.

“She cut through the lawn to your left,” Ziva cut in. “Hold your position!”

“Shit.” Still facing Gibbs, Tony could see out the back window. Their suspect hurried up the walk at them, glancing over her shoulder as if someone was chasing her. She’s good, he thought. No real officer would ignore a woman looking for help, and three were dead because of it.

But either she suspected they were on to her or she was getting impatient because she didn’t wait for them to move.

“Gun!” Tony yelled, ducking as she raised her arm and aimed at their car. The back window shattered and Gibbs drew his weapon as he pushed Tony’s head down in his lap.

Breathing heavily against Gibbs’ jacket, Tony heard McGee speed up beside them and squeal to a stop. Ziva was yelling in his earpiece and he heard outside shots until Gibbs fired.

The suspect must’ve been at his passenger window. Tony’s ears were ringing as more glass shattered over his back and Gibbs’ free hand stayed heavy on his head to keep him covered.

Dry

Tony tried to lift his head from the pillow but the blood and salve on his cuts had dried and stuck to the fabric. He winced as the pillowcase tugged free and his cheek stung. As he sat up, his ribs and hips also ached from the movement, though more from Gibbs' brutal attention earlier than his beating at the hotel.

Not that Tony hadn't wanted it that way too.

Gibbs was still asleep and Tony tried not to stumble into anything as his swollen eye adjusted to the clutter on the floor. Their clothes were cast far and wide from when Gibbs had let himself into Tony's apartment and bed. He grabbed Gibbs' trousers thinking they were his sleep pants. He hung them over the chair to prevent anymore wrinkling and found Gibbs' jacket next.

The flask fell out of the pocket and Tony felt an engraving under his fingertips but it was too dark to read, even when he tried to use the streetlamp outside. Moving the flask around, he heard a little slosh inside and he was unreasonably grateful.

Gibbs hadn't been drunk when he showed up, but it was clear something else was on his mind besides Tony's almost fatal op. It could be nostalgia for the Corp, or maybe something about the Director. Tony always got a hinky feeling when he saw them together, but it didn't matter because Gibbs obviously had other options for dealing with the problem (he briefly wondered how old the hooch was inside the flask) and Tony appreciated that Gibbs came to him instead.

Gibbs started to cough and turn over and Tony put the flask back in the jacket pocket and hung the jacket on the chair. "DiNozzo." Gibbs sat up, rubbing his hands over his face as he squinted at the clock. "You need a humidifier," he grumbled. "What are you doing?"

"I'll get you a glass of water, boss." When his foot twisted in his sleep pants on the floor, Gibbs grabbed his arm to keep him from tripping.

"Lay down," he ordered, though the tight grip on Tony's arm was a contradiction.

Gibbs turned on the bedside lamp and studied Tony's face for a moment as he blinked at the light. The light snapped off again and Gibbs gave him a little push onto the bed.

Tony didn't argue. He couldn't remember why he'd gotten up in the first place. He carefully arranged his bruised body on the mattress and started to drift off again. He was used to Gibbs sneaking out, or kicking him out, in the middle of the night. He wasn't taking it personally and wouldn't lie awake and watch Gibbs leave.

The bed shifted a few minutes later and Tony jerked up, groaning. Gibbs handed him a glass of water. "Take these." Three tablets were put in his hand. After Tony swallowed them, Gibbs set the water aside and dabbed a little more ointment on the worst of the cuts.

The burn searing into his skull made Tony try to curl into himself as he flopped back on the bed. "What the--!"

"Easy," Gibbs murmured. A big hand covered Tony's forehead to hold him still and when he stopped gasping and biting his lip, Gibbs let go, his hand moving back to stroke Tony's hair.

"You're a bastard," he panted, though slowly relaxing again under the deceptively soothing touch. Normally that would've made him leery he was about to get slapped, even in bed Gibbs' habits didn't change to much, but he was too tired and feeling really good to care right now.

Gibbs just replied, "I know."

Ooh, it was even better when Gibbs started massaging his scalp. Tony was tingling all over now and if the adrenaline hadn't been fucked out of him earlier he might've gotten it up again.

"Kiss me," he mumbled anyway, his mouth feeling heavy and lopsided when he grinned and weakly pushed at Gibbs' shoulder to nudge him down. Gibbs managed an amused snort and his hand brushed the inside of Tony's thigh briefly but his mouth only touched Tony's lips.

"Hmmm." Tony tried to move his lazy tongue out of his dry mouth, but Gibbs had pulled away too soon.

"Get that humidifier," Gibbs said again before Tony fell asleep.

Jealousy

“What’d you do to make Gibbs kick your ass so bad?” Abby asked, not looking up from sample she was studying under the microscope.

Tony had been making a concerted effort not to limp, but when she didn’t even notice, he let himself sag against the counter to take some of the weight off his ankle. He peered at the screen projecting the analysis of the toxins that killed their latest case. “What have you got?” he asked, leaning closer to her so his eucalyptus breath from the lozenges would back-up his catching a cold story when she heard his scratchy voice.

As if everyone on the base hadn’t heard about Gibbs playing his ribs like a xylophone during training.

But Abby looked up sharply and tugged the turtleneck down to expose the fingerprint bruises on Tony’s throat. “Kinky,” she murmured, though he knew her eyes would be wide if he looked at her.

He moved her hand away. “It was just an exercise.” He jabbed a finger at the evidence strewn on her worktable. The victim’s stomach contents on his clothes was their biggest lead at the moment.

Her fingers curled around his as she led him to the printer. She handed him the toxicology report. “It was rat poison. It’s an anticoagulant so he bled to death internally without even knowing it. A little Vitamin K would’ve fixed him up if anyone had noticed in time.”

“Hardly worth the effort if he lives,” Tony grated out.

“Right.”

“Thanks, Abs.” Tony focused on not limping again as he shuffled to the door because he knew Abby was watching now.

“Come back in twenty minutes,” she said.

“You find something else?”

“No, you’re tea will be ready. Goldenseal. It’ll help your throat more than those crap drops.”

“It’s fine, Ab--”

“Whatever you did, just apologize,” she blurted. She hurried over and blocked the door, looking him straight in the eye and batting her lashes earnestly. “I mean it, Tony, he’s acting like he lost Kate all over again.”

Tony’s chin jutted out. “Maybe he needs to apologize. Anyone ever think of that?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, touching his arm lightly. “But he won’t.”

***

Tony was pretty sure it was just the tacos Ziva brought back for lunch that caused the heartburn when he saw the flash of red hair step out of the elevator. He wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t, as the former director crossed in front of his desk and made a beeline to Gibbs who was chewing out McGee.

“Jethro.”

Gibbs didn’t look up from the report he was rifling on McGee’s desk. “Jen.” A hard finger held his place when he did glance up. “I thought your flight left this morning.”

“What happened to your eye?”

“Training exercise. What are you still doing here?”

“I suppose I don’t want to know what the other guy looks like,” she sighed. “My flight was delayed. I thought we could have lunch while I wait--”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation. McGee—”

“Jethro, we need to talk--”

Gibbs was moving. “Said it all last night. Good-bye, Jen. McGee, find our missing witness. DiNozzo, you’re with me.”

Tony grabbed his jacket and hobbled after Gibbs. Gibbs held the elevator door open for him, probably as much of an apology as he was ever going to get from the other man, but just the fact that Gibbs wasn’t trying to rehash their argument in the ring again was good enough for him at the moment.

“Where we going, Boss?”

Gibbs thumbed the stop button and shoved Tony against the wall of the elevator. He held one hand against Tony’s chest, but otherwise kept an arms length between them as he stared hard and waited.

Tony licked his lips, offering a wan smile. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah. You were wrong.”

“Won’t happen again.”

Gibbs blew out a breath, his hand sliding over Tony’s chest to gently probe his bruised ribs. “No, it won’t.” When Tony winced at a particularly sore spot, Gibbs stepped back and started the elevator again. “I want Ducky to check you out. Then go home.”

“You need a steak for that eye,” Tony countered. “I got a couple t-bones in the freezer.”

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs said, “Better on the grill,” before stepping off. “Bring them over later.”

Fall

Tony finished his report and leaned back in his chair, arms overhead as he stretched his back.

Ziva handed him his coat and he winced when he saw the leather was scarred from the glass shattering over him. “Where’s Gibbs? I need to give--”

“You need to go home,” Ziva said, “Give him some time to cool off.”

“She’s right,” McGee chimed in from his desk. “You went too far Tony.”

Tony wasn’t going to admit maybe he was right, Gibbs hadn’t said two words to him since they’d returned to the office. That wasn’t unusual, but he hadn’t gotten one slap on the head either. He was being punished for doing his job too well. Tony slammed his desk drawer shut and glared at McGee.

“Don’t worry about how I do my job, Probie. Next time do your job, so the perp doesn’t get another chance to blow my head off.”

“Tony--” McGee stood abruptly as Gibbs came off the elevator. He nodded at Ziva and she grabbed Tony’s arm.

“You still here?” Gibbs asked.

“Just going home, Boss.” McGee shuffled around his desk and Gibbs blocked the aisle.

“You get all your gear out of DiNozzo’s apartment?”

“Yeah, Boss.”

Gibbs nodded and rounded his desk. He squinted over the lamp at Ziva. “You too.”

She nodded. “Come on, Tony. I’ll give you a ride.”

“DiNozzo, stay put.”

“Uh, I can wait, Tony,” McGee offered. “I'll check on Abby’s progress while I wa--”

“I said go home, McGee.”

“But his car is still imp--”

“I’ll drop him off when we’re finished. That alright with you?” Gibbs asked.

McGee nodded, casting a nervous glance Tony’s way as he followed Ziva.

Tony waited for the elevator to open and he waved to them as the doors closed. Ziva smiled and shook her head.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk and Tony handed him his report. “You want me see what Abby’s got?”

Gibbs shook his head and flicked off the light.

***

Tony sat quietly, staring out the window as they drove to his apartment. Gibbs still wasn’t talking to him and his clipped barking into his cell phone at the Director and Ducky didn’t leave Tony much of a window to try and lighten the mood. The nervous banter bubbling inside him was ricocheting in his head with the remaining soft ting in his ears from the gunfire earlier.

Gibbs pulled up in front of his building and Tony quickly thanked him for the ride before jumping out. “See you tomorrow, Boss.” He slammed the door shut and was heading inside when he realized Gibbs was behind him.

“It’s already tomorrow, DiNozzo.”

Tony’s keys slipped from his fingers and fell on the landing. “So you want to, uh, talk now?”

Gibbs picked up the keys and handed them to him. “You got coffee?”

Tony tightened his fist around the keys when he felt Gibbs’ fingers brush his. “McGee and Ziva are probably list--”

“I ordered them to clear out,” Gibbs reminded him. His tone defied any hint that they had disobeyed, no matter how great their curiosity.

“Right.” Because they weren’t Tony. Tony opened the door and ushered Gibbs in. “Mi coffee es su coffee.”

He took his coat off and tossed it on the back of the sofa before jerking his head at Gibbs to do the same and follow him to the kitchen. Before he could fill the pot with water, Gibbs took it from him and set it on the counter. “Never mind, DiNozzo, I’ve had your coffee.”

Tony felt his pulse skip and he felt oddly vulnerable because Gibbs would see the slightest twitch standing that close. Gibbs was as close as he had been in the parking lot. Right before they were kissing—

Again—Gibbs was kissing him again but he wasn’t being crushed like before. Gibbs had been acting, bruising and marking Tony’s skin. Claiming and possessing him for the benefit of their audience. But now he wasn’t touching or demanding, just asking instead of taking.

Tony felt Gibbs lean in further, enclosing Tony with his arms on either side of the counter, but they weren’t touching anywhere else besides there mouths. Tony swayed in the middle of the circle. The counter was solid behind him, but he didn’t want to step back to where they were just a few hours ago. The other option was forward and falling headfirst into whatever mess they made of their friendship and careers right there on the kitchen floor.

Gibbs pulled back and growled, “I’m too old for this shit,” before kissing him again quick and hard.

“Then the bed would be better?” Tony asked, hands still balled into fists at his side.

“Yeah, DiNozzo, that’d be good.” Gibbs headed to the bedroom and Tony waited until he was out of the room before pumping his fists in the air for McGee and Ziva, just in case, before he jogged after him.

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