8. finlaure Gibbs or Tony is depressed over an upcoming birthday and the other one cheers them up
Gibbs had known Tony was out of sorts a few weeks before his birthday. His last close frat brother had gotten married a few months ago, and the news that another frat bother, Phil, a former roommate, had died of a heart attack just a couple weeks after turning forty.
He tolerated Tony wearing designer clothes to work, even some things that weren’t exactly professional. He gritted his teeth when Tony smeared gunk under his eyes and went out clubbing with Abby. He ignored all of the Men’s Health magazines, open to articles about tightening abs.
He didn’t even comment about the juicer, the fruits and veggies that appeared in the fridge and the green sludge in the bottom of the glasses. He had no idea how Tony stomached the juices he made, but Gibbs never said a word.
But this…this was the last straw.
In Tony’s ever-so-subtle fashion, he’d propped a menu up on the kitchen table, for a place that did tofu birthday cakes.
No. No way.
That was not happening.
Gibbs drove quickly home, stopping by his favorite bakery. A guy only turned the big four oh once, and there was no way Gibbs would ruin that with a cake made out of tofu. No, Tony was gonna get his favorite triple fudge cake, and he was gonna eat every damn bite of it.
Gibbs had the cat cut into six super-sized wedges when Tony walked in, rubbing the back of his head.
“Stop. You’re not going bald, you’re not getting fat, and Ducky told you that you’re in great shape. Sit your ass down and eat your birthday cake.”
Gibbs slapped a glass on the table and poured Tony a huge glass of milk. “Eat. Drink.”
Tony gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Jethro.”
“You’re welcome,” Gibbs said, mussing Tony’s hair. “Happy birthday. Less talk, more eat.”
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Big Four Oh
Date: 2012-07-01 04:38 am (UTC)Gibbs had known Tony was out of sorts a few weeks before his birthday. His last close frat brother had gotten married a few months ago, and the news that another frat bother, Phil, a former roommate, had died of a heart attack just a couple weeks after turning forty.
He tolerated Tony wearing designer clothes to work, even some things that weren’t exactly professional. He gritted his teeth when Tony smeared gunk under his eyes and went out clubbing with Abby. He ignored all of the Men’s Health magazines, open to articles about tightening abs.
He didn’t even comment about the juicer, the fruits and veggies that appeared in the fridge and the green sludge in the bottom of the glasses. He had no idea how Tony stomached the juices he made, but Gibbs never said a word.
But this…this was the last straw.
In Tony’s ever-so-subtle fashion, he’d propped a menu up on the kitchen table, for a place that did tofu birthday cakes.
No. No way.
That was not happening.
Gibbs drove quickly home, stopping by his favorite bakery. A guy only turned the big four oh once, and there was no way Gibbs would ruin that with a cake made out of tofu. No, Tony was gonna get his favorite triple fudge cake, and he was gonna eat every damn bite of it.
Gibbs had the cat cut into six super-sized wedges when Tony walked in, rubbing the back of his head.
“Stop. You’re not going bald, you’re not getting fat, and Ducky told you that you’re in great shape. Sit your ass down and eat your birthday cake.”
Gibbs slapped a glass on the table and poured Tony a huge glass of milk. “Eat. Drink.”
Tony gave him a grateful look. “Thanks, Jethro.”
“You’re welcome,” Gibbs said, mussing Tony’s hair. “Happy birthday. Less talk, more eat.”
“On it, Boss.”