Gibbs had felt unsettled knowing that Senior was aware of his connection with Tony. The man didn’t seem at all surprised, Gibbs realized. Maybe he wasn’t giving Senior enough credit for knowing his son.
And he’d saved Tony—Gibbs was sure of that. He couldn’t have manhandled Tony out of the car, much less gotten him into a hospital. He had a lot to thank Tony’s father for.
But Gibbs needed to be careful, to be cautious.
Still…there were some things that niggled. How did Tony’s father know—or assume—Tony was staying at Gibbs’ place. He maintained his apartment and stayed there one or two nights a week.
He watched Tony’s father, the way he stood protectively over his son, the way he turned and consulted with Ducky as Ducky came in. When their conversation was done, Ducky came over, patting Gibbs’ hand.
“You’re both going to be just fine, Jethro.”
“Know that,” Gibbs replied. Even if he didn’t, he had a reputation to maintain, especially until he’d worked out why this was niggling at him.
“Tony here tells me he’ll be staying with you both,” Ducky began, but he looked troubled. There was something on his mind.
“Said that,” Gibbs agreed. Even though he was irritated, he waited Ducky out. The other man loved to talk, and he’d open up soon enough.
It took almost five minutes—Gibbs was impressed—before Ducky spoke, his voice hushed. “McGee found the wreckage, Jethro. There was evidence of a body incinerated inside. Anthony—Tony here—was an eyewitness to both that accident and yours. He’ll be glad to fill out any paperwork necessary.”
Gibbs nodded, a little uncomfortable with this discussion. “He’s gonna be okay?” he repeated, motioning to the too-still form of his lover. They weren’t out to the team—or hadn’t been—but the team knew how much he valued his senior field agent.
“I’m good, Boss,” Tony said, his voice pained and a little strained. He lifted his head up and met Gibb’ gaze, his green eyes hazy with pain, but alert otherwise.
“We got lucky. If Dad hadn’t been there…” Tony broke off and looked away.
“But I was,” his father said in a quiet, steady, reassuring tone. ‘Don’t think about the what could have beens, Junior. You and Gibbs are in the best of hands.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Tony caught Gibbs eye and held his gaze, a small smile on his face. “Always in the best hands.”
Best Hands
Sequel to:
Sequel to http://taylorgibbs.livejournal.com/102508.html?view=1141100#t1141100
And
http://taylorgibbs.livejournal.com/103275.html?view=1186923#t1186923
Gibbs had felt unsettled knowing that Senior was aware of his connection with Tony. The man didn’t seem at all surprised, Gibbs realized. Maybe he wasn’t giving Senior enough credit for knowing his son.
And he’d saved Tony—Gibbs was sure of that. He couldn’t have manhandled Tony out of the car, much less gotten him into a hospital. He had a lot to thank Tony’s father for.
But Gibbs needed to be careful, to be cautious.
Still…there were some things that niggled. How did Tony’s father know—or assume—Tony was staying at Gibbs’ place. He maintained his apartment and stayed there one or two nights a week.
He watched Tony’s father, the way he stood protectively over his son, the way he turned and consulted with Ducky as Ducky came in. When their conversation was done, Ducky came over, patting Gibbs’ hand.
“You’re both going to be just fine, Jethro.”
“Know that,” Gibbs replied. Even if he didn’t, he had a reputation to maintain, especially until he’d worked out why this was niggling at him.
“Tony here tells me he’ll be staying with you both,” Ducky began, but he looked troubled. There was something on his mind.
“Said that,” Gibbs agreed. Even though he was irritated, he waited Ducky out. The other man loved to talk, and he’d open up soon enough.
It took almost five minutes—Gibbs was impressed—before Ducky spoke, his voice hushed. “McGee found the wreckage, Jethro. There was evidence of a body incinerated inside. Anthony—Tony here—was an eyewitness to both that accident and yours. He’ll be glad to fill out any paperwork necessary.”
Gibbs nodded, a little uncomfortable with this discussion. “He’s gonna be okay?” he repeated, motioning to the too-still form of his lover. They weren’t out to the team—or hadn’t been—but the team knew how much he valued his senior field agent.
“I’m good, Boss,” Tony said, his voice pained and a little strained. He lifted his head up and met Gibb’ gaze, his green eyes hazy with pain, but alert otherwise.
“We got lucky. If Dad hadn’t been there…” Tony broke off and looked away.
“But I was,” his father said in a quiet, steady, reassuring tone. ‘Don’t think about the what could have beens, Junior. You and Gibbs are in the best of hands.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Tony caught Gibbs eye and held his gaze, a small smile on his face. “Always in the best hands.”