A Laughing Matter – Chapter 2

“God dammit! Tony!” Tim slammed his drawer shut, then bent to pick up the four springy snakes that had shot out at him. Scowling, he dropped them in his trash can. “This isn’t high school,” he seethed. “Why can’t he just grow up?”

Ziva glanced up from her report with the look of smug superiority. “Because like many men, he will always be a little boy. Maybe you should smack his legs and send him to bed.”

“I don’t think that would work, but sometimes I’d really like to try punching him.”

The two agents descended on Tony’s desk. “We could put those stupid snakes in one of his drawers,” Ziva suggested.

“No point,” Tim said, “he’ll be expecting something like that.” His eyes fell on the senior agent’s keyboard and lit up in unholy glee. “I know it’s been done to death,” he said, “but what I wouldn’t give to see Tony glued to his keyboard!”

Ziva shook her head. “He will know,” she said. “He always knows. We need something new.” She grinned. With a swift look around to make sure that neither Tony nor Gibbs were approaching, Ziva dropped to her knees and opened the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. Inside, was Tony’s go-bag. Ziva lifted it out and undid the zip. Inside were a couple of clean shirts, changes of underwear, a small towel, and a bag of toiletries. Tim reached over her shoulder and grabbed the toiletry bag.

“What have we here?” He murmured. “Razor, shaving foam, soap– oh, nice, moisturizing! And he calls me gay!”

“We could replace it with that stuff from the evidence garage,” Ziva suggested. “With the bits in for cleaning your hands of oil.”

“We could,” Tim said, “but then he’d know for sure we were in his bag. But if I just take this…” he lifted out a small bottle of Advil and shook it. The tablets rattled.

“The next time Tony gets a hangover,” Ziva said slyly, “yes?”

Tim nodded. “Exactly.”

Quickly and carefully they packed everything away again and left the bag exactly as they had found it back in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet. When Tony and Gibbs rounded the corner talking about something that looked serious, Tim and Ziva were both hard at work.

***

A week later, the team found itself sent out of state to investigate the disappearance of two lieutenants suspected of having ties to a small but well-armed militia group in the wilds of Tennessee. McGee and Ziva were left investigating the officers’ postings. There was some evidence that at least one of the men had tried to access classified information, but the only way to be certain what he’d looked at was to find and interrogate him. Gibbs and Tony trekked around wooded mountains for four days while Tony complained incessantly about the weather and the mosquitoes. On day five, they found the lieutenants, the militia’s secret camp and, with backup from the ATF they managed to recover their men intact. Mostly.

Returning to Washington and running the interrogation took another day and, by the time their reports were written and they were free to go home for the next three days, Tony was feeling decidedly shaky and had picked up a dry cough somewhere in the last 48 hours.

“Go see Ducky,” Gibbs ordered, taking his gun out of the lockbox in his desk drawer and holstering it. He shrugged on his jacket. “I mean it.”

Tony sighed. “Yes, boss.” But when he went down to Autopsy, it was dark, both Jimmy and Ducky gone for the night. “Emergency room or clinic…” Tony ran a hand through his hair. He desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes. The last thing he wanted was to spend the next few hours sitting in an overcrowded waiting room, but he needed to get his cough checked out, and somehow the old Advil bottle of heat suppressants he kept in his go-bag had gone missing, so he needed to get another prescription for those as well.

“Clinic it is.” Tony made his way to his car, feeling a well-worn pang of regret for the beautiful Mustang that had been destroyed as he got into the sensible but oh-so-boring sedan and made his way to the Unity Clinic.

Several hours later, Tony stepped out of his bedroom, freshly showered and clad in old, comfortable sweatpants and a faded USMC t-shirt worn soft with washing. Gibbs was sat on the sofa, beer in hand, and takeout cartons were spread over the coffee table. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

“Antibiotics and a short course of steroids with the nebuliser,” Tony said, coming to sit beside him. “Also in a day or so, I’m going to need some time off.”

“Heat?”

Tony nodded. “Not looking forward to it, not with a cough. It’s going to be shitty.”

“What happened to your suppressants? I saw you checking your levels.”

“Yeah, they weren’t in my bag,” Tony admitted, coughing a little. He took the beer from Gibbs and had a sip, then passed it back. “If this were catching, you’d have it already,” he rasped. “After all that tromping through the woods. God! If I never see another tree again I’ll be happy.”

Gibbs frowned. “I thought you had ’em in that Advil bottle. Must’ve seen you make sure it’s in there a hundred times over the last few years.”

Tony shrugged. “What can I say? I haven’t taken it out except to refill it or take a pill, but it wasn’t there. Maybe…” He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Yeah, no.”

“Maybe someone went in your bag and took it,” Gibbs scowled. “Ah, crap! I’ll kick their damn asses, and yours too. What the hell were you thinking leaving your go-bag where they could get at it? Now you’re going to be out for three days at least, and that means I’ll have to be, too.”

Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. “You know, I’m not hungry. I just want to get some sleep before my bastard of a boss drags me into work at ass-o’clock. See yourself out.” He went back into his bedroom and firmly closed the door behind him. His twin bed, usually on the small side even for him, felt empty with Gibbs just the other side of the door.

***

Tony had been at his desk for an hour by the time the last of his team made it into the bullpen. Gibbs, who had been ignoring them, slammed his empty coffee cup into the trashcan and got to his feet. “David, McGee, with me.”

Ziva, who hadn’t even taken her coat off, stared at him in surprise. “Do we have a case?”

“Boss…” Tony pushed back from his desk, but Gibbs shook his head.

“Not you, DiNozzo. I want that paperwork done before you go.” Gibbs glared at the other two. “Well? Move!”

Tony sighed, which set off a coughing fit that doubled him over. By the time he’d wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, his team had vanished into the elevator. He pushed the worry over what exactly Gibbs was going to tell the team to the back of his mind and turned back to the stack of paperwork that needed to be finished before he could give in and go home.

Ten minutes later, the elevator doors opened, spilling his team out into the bullpen. Ziva scowled at him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and temper. McGee was looking equal parts embarrassed, ashamed and concerned. Gibbs looked even more pissed than when he’d hauled them off. Tony looked up when the pair stopped in front of his desk. “Probie? Probette?”

McGee shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I’m sorry we took your steroid tablets, Tony.”

Ziva pouted. “I do not see why you had to hide them in the first place! If you had not-“

“Ziva!” Gibbs barked.

She scowled. “Fine! I apologise for taking your pills even though you should have left them in the prescription bottle!” She stomped back to her desk and took off her coat, temper showing in every movement.

“McGee?” Tony asked as Tim stayed put in front of him.

“I didn’t know your lungs were still bad!” he burst out. “You should have said something?”

Tony leaned back in his chair, incredulous. “What do you think ‘permanent scarring’ means, McOblivious? Or ‘permanently reduced lung function’? Did you think it was like pneumonia, give it six months and it’ll be fine? I had the fucking plague! Yes, I can outrun you because I’ve spent a lot of time making sure I stay fit, but spending a week in the damp and cold in the middle of nowhere is always going to do a number on my lungs.”

McGee flushed an unattractive mottled red. “I still don’t see why you put your pills in an Advil bottle.”

“You went through my bag, found my wash bag, went through that and threw out what you thought was Advil. And you don’t know why I’d hide a prescribed course of steroids? Because I can imagine exactly what the two of you would say if you found steroids in my bag.” Tony stared at McGee until he turned and went to his desk without saying anything more. Suppressing a cough, Tony turned back to his computer. He spent the rest of the morning working through all his paperwork for the case, plus his SFA paperwork for the team, as quickly as possible, racing to beat the cough building in his chest and the heat building in his gut. At lunchtime, he hid in Ducky’s office and sat through a nebuliser treatment that left a foul taste in his mouth for the rest of the afternoon as he signed off on the reports from McGee and returned Ziva’s to do again.

“English, not Hebrew, Probette,” Tony rasped. “And you’ll have to send them directly to Gibbs.”

“Why? There is still work to do!” Ziva complained as Tony switched off his PC and gathered his things to leave for the night. “You cannot go!”

“No, Probette, I’m all done. It’s just you, and I’m not staying late because you’re pulling passive-aggressive bullshit. I’m going home,” Tony said, not bothering to look in her direction as he pulled on his coat and scarf. “Boss, I don’t think I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“Right,” Gibbs said, coming back to his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. “I’ll put you down as sick. Ziva! Why isn’t your report done yet? You’re staying until it’s done if it takes all night!”

Tony smirked as the elevator doors closed behind him. It was petty, but he’d take any indication that Gibbs still had his six, however small; they were increasingly fewer and further between.

***

Tony was brushing his teeth when he heard the door to his apartment open. He spat into the sink and moved silently into his bedroom, sliding along the wall to the half-open door into the living room. A quick glance showed him Gibbs in socked feet, having kicked off his shoes.

“Would it kill you to knock?” Tony snapped. It was late and he’d spent the evening coughing and alternating between shivering from his illness and sweating from his oncoming heat. He’d eaten a little, but his appetite was gone and he just wanted something cool and sweet to drink, but he was out of juice. It didn’t look like Gibbs had brought him any this time either.

“I can always go home,” Gibbs frowned. He was dressed in a nice light blue button-down shirt and black dress trousers rather than his usual polo shirt and jeans combo.

“Date didn’t end well?” Tony said cattily. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, aware of the way his softest jogging pants hung low on his hips and clung to his thighs.

“My date would’ve ended just fine if I hadn’t had to come here,” Gibbs growled. “What’s your problem, DiNozzo?”

“You didn’t have to come here at all,” Tony scowled. “I don’t need you to hold my hand, boss.” That last was said with such venom that Gibbs looked taken aback for a moment before his expression hardened and he stepped forward into Tony’s space.

“You got another alpha lined up? Because I don’t see one.” He punctuated his words with a sharp jab of his finger to Tony’s chest and Tony’s eyes slid shut involuntarily as a wave of the coffeesawdustalphamale scent penetrated his clogged sinuses. He forced himself to open his eyes and step back.

“Fuck you, Gibbs! I don’t need a goddamn alpha! But if I wanted one you can be sure I’d go out and find one!”

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. “Why are you being so pissy? Your heat’s coming on tonight, I came over to help you break it. Like I always do.”

“It’s been seven years! You helped me through heat once and quite frankly the way you act nowadays it’s pretty clear you can’t stand me eighty percent of the time!” Tony stared at him in disbelief. “Honestly, I figured you’d forgotten all about it.” He swallowed against the urge to cough. “Thanks for covering with the tantrum twins this morning, but I don’t need an alpha pity-fuck. And what would your date say?”

“The sooner your heat breaks, the sooner I get my senior field agent back,” Gibbs said. “And it’s none of her business.”

“You’re going from a date to fuck your subordinate. Most women would have something to say about it.”

“Look, I’m here. Your heat’s going to be full-on in an hour at the outside,” Gibbs said impatiently. “Let’s get it over with, then you can be back in work the day after tomorrow.”

“Wow,” Tony said, eyebrows raised. “You are unbelievable, Gibbs, you really are. It isn’t just the second ‘b’ that’s for ‘bastard’, is it?” He shivered. “Fine. Come on, then, fuck me and get it over with.” He turned and walked back into his bedroom, pushing his pants down as he stepped into the room. By the time Gibbs followed, Tony was lying on his stomach on the bed, his face turned towards the wall.

What started as perfunctory, impersonal, became almost unbearably intimate as the night wore on. Tony coughed and shivered and Gibbs, a line of heat against his back, between his legs, wrapped his arms around Tony, holding him like something precious, rolled them to lie on their side, cupped his jaw with a strong, callused hand, scented Tony’s neck, as he thrust slowly and carefully into Tony’s passage. After Tony came on Gibbs’ knot, hating himself for accepting the tenderness Gibbs was showing him, Gibbs kissed his shoulder and he had to blink hard against a sudden prickle of tears. Together, they rode out the waves of Tony’s heat throughout the night, but when Tony woke at nine the next morning, his heat had broken and Gibbs was gone.