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The next two weeks were mostly used for readapting. Ziva had to overcome her jetlag; McGee had to free his computer from all the techno-junk Keating had installed and had to relearn to speak in plain English; Tony spent a great time rearranging his desk exactly as he wanted it, stocking the drawers with snacks and a few men magazines he would need to keep on reading now and then, to keep his Latin Lover covered up. Gibbs' task was the easiest: he just needed to return to enjoying going at work now that he had his trusted team back, and he did it quickly.
Ziva and Tim took the news Gibbs and Tony were a couple well. Both of them were surprised, of course, and even more so when they heard it wasn't a new thing, but something that had gone on for years. Being two investigators, they were upset about not having had a single clue despite the many hours spent with the two men, but they were mollified when they thought of how good Tony was undercover and of how unreadable Gibbs could be.
"Remind me to never play poker with you," McGee commented, before offering his congratulations and his sincere assurance he had the slightest problem with them being an item.
Ziva, instead approached Tony and Gibbs and murmured, "I've always known Tony is a Perfect Match, it was in the dossier I made for…my brother. This fact made me curious about you, and I've spent a lot of time observing you."
"I thought you were checking me out…" Tony retorted grinning broadly as Ziva threw him a glare.
"I've observed you," she stressed, "and never saw anything to indicate Gibbs was your match. Congratulations for finding each other after such a long separation, and my compliments for keeping your secret…so secret. And thank you for sharing it with us; I swear I'll never betray your confidence."
"Thank you Ziva," Gibbs and Tony replied in unison, touched by her words.
As for Vance, Gibbs was aware the director was keeping them under control, and he didn't put past Leon to use the cameras in the squad room to check how he and Tony interacted with each other. He wasn't concerned about it. He and his lover where strictly professional on the job, and he didn't treat Tony any different from McGee or Ziva, which included getting in other man personal's space quite often. He did it with everyone, so why he shouldn't do it with Tony?
Life seemed to settle back to normal, with cases, chases, interrogations, arrests, if not for a small niggling doubt Gibbs had confined in a corner of his mind. A doubt that resurfaced the day Tony found the late agent's FBI old pass stuck in a drawer of the desk.
That evening, as he was watching – or tried to watch- a movie at Tony's place, Gibbs' mind was overflowed with questions he had no answers for.
How could have I been so wrong about Langer? How couldn't I have seen it? How can I have misjudged him so much?
True, Langer had changed from the man Gibbs had known in the past, but back then he had been a good man, and a devoted patriot. How could have he become a traitor to his country? His bank account hadn't shown any strange activities; he hadn't been living above of his financial possibilities. Had he had just started his "activities" as blackmailer and seller of secrets with Vargo and Roberts and stopped when everything went wrong and Vargo had a change of heart?
Popcorn hit him on the cheek, and he looked down, meeting Tony's eyes as his lover lay there with his head cushioned by Gibbs' thighs.
"You're thinking so hard I can hear you from here. Something wrong?"
"I don't know," he answered, sincere.
Tony switched off the TV and sat up, turning to face him. "What is it, Jethro?"
"It's about Langer," he admitted. "I can't wrap my mind around the fact he was a traitor and I didn't see it, to the point I recommended him to Jenny and I had him hired by NCIS."
"That's why you took Dwayne Wilson's file down to Ducky? To get his opinion because you don't trust yours anymore after Langer?"
"How do you know?"
"Because Ducky told me. He found it weird, and wanted to know if I thought the same. I did." Tony moved and sat on the low coffee table, in front of Gibbs, their knees bumping, so close they were. "Have you really stopped trusting your gut, Jethro?"
"I don't know…" he muttered, leaning back against the couch and looking at the ceiling. "I don't know what to think anymore."
"Then I'll tell you what I think. I think I've never met anyone able to read people better than you—and that includes me, empathy and all. I think that if your gut is telling you something, you should listen to it, no matter where it leads you. That's what I think." A pause, then, "What does your gut say?"
"That Langer was a good guy. That he couldn't have changed so much."
"So I don't think he did it," Gibbs said, looking at Tony. "He was a victim, like Steve Vargo."
"And Lee killed both of them."
"Yes, she did."
Tony was silent for a while, before saying, "We have only her word about what happened in Building Three. There were no cameras; no real evidence to confirm the events went as she said."
"I need to talk to Vance," Gibbs added, sitting straighter, as his mind began to outline a course of action. "We need to check if we are still leaking information—and we need to keep an eye on Lee. But this must stay between you and me. I saw her today; she was tense. She asked me if we ever discovered why Langer did it. We cannot risk her smelling we are closing on her."
Tony nodded. "Sure Boss," he said smartly, touching his brow with two fingers. Then he reached out and squeezed Gibbs' good knee. "Don't worry, Jethro. We'll catch her."
And catch her they did- with a plan known only by them, Vance and, in part, Abby. Ziva, McGee, Ducky and Palmer were kept in the dark, not because they weren't to be trusted to keep a secret, but because it was necessary they would react as normal as possible, in order not to alarm Lee. She had to take the bait and swallow it—which she did, just as planned.
But even the best laid plans can go wrong or produce unexpected, unwanted results, and Michelle Lee's death at his own hand and under her own encouragement, wasn't something Gibbs had predicted or wanted. Nor he had expected to be the one having to say to a little girl her "Michy" would never return home.
That night, when Gibbs returned home after Ducky took care of his finger, replacing the temporary bandage with a split and elastic bandages, he felt as if he had aged ten years in just few hours. Lee hadn't deserved to end like this, even if Vance thought it could have been for the best, given her crimes. But at least Amanda would carry with her the memory of a sister that died as a hero, and never have to bear the burden of knowing Michelle turned into a murderer and a traitor to save her. It was a burden that unfortunate girl didn't need to carry. Yet, Gibbs couldn't help think it shouldn't have gone this way.
He wearily climbed upstairs, and saw the light coming from the open bedroom door; Tony was still awake, despite the very late hour.
When Gibbs entered in the bedroom, Tony stood up from the bed and walked to him, saying nothing as he wrapped his arms around the older man and offered him the comfort his lover needed but that they both knew he wouldn't ask for—at least not with words.
Gibbs leant into Tony's embrace, letting his lover support most of his weight. They stood like that, in silence, for several minutes and then the older man pulled back. Tony posed both of his hands on his shoulders and said softly, "It's not your fault, Jethro. Bankston was terribly clever; he thought about everything and we fell for it until it was too late. We couldn't predict he would take Lee hostage."
"I know…" Gibbs replied, wearily.
"Now come, let me help you," his lover said, as he efficiently stripped him of his blood stained clothes, until Gibbs was clad only in his underwear. "Do you need to hit the head?"
"No, I did it at the Navy Yard."
"Good , hop into bed then."
"Not yet. Help me remove this…remove yours. Don't want anything between us tonight." Gibbs said roughly, as he raised the hem of his t-shirt.
A moment later, naked, they slipped beneath the covers, and he used his left arm to pull Tony closer. He had just meant to bask in his lover's warmth and have it relax him enough to fall asleep, but the feel Tony's skin brushing against his own, caused an unexpected bout of lust to zip along his nerves.
He moaned softly and his lover, attuned as he was with him, encouraged him by rubbing against him. Gibbs moaned again, rocking his hips to press his now hard cock against the other man's buttocks.
Tony turned around, and pressed his own erection against Gibbs' hip.
"We shouldn't do this…not tonight…" Gibbs whispered. "Doesn't seem right…"
"You are wrong…This is the most right thing in the world," Tony replied, speaking with his lips very close to Gibbs'. It's an affirmation of life over death." He pushed away the covers and reached out with his hand, picking the lube from the nightstand drawer, "One of the oldest, most primal reasons to have sex. We did it after Kate's death too… remember it?"
Gibbs nodded, remembering how desperate Tony had been that night. He had wanted Gibbs to erase from his lips the taste of Kate's blood- that had sprayed all over his face when Ari Haswari had shot her- with his lips, his tongue…his seed.
"Now relax," Tony murmured, "and let me do all the work. You just enjoy, okay?"
Tony moved his chest, kissing along the contours of his pectoral muscles. He spent a moment sucking on each nipple, before tracing a line of kisses along Gibbs' right arm, till he reached the fingers, which were all sucked into his month, but the injured one. This one instead was just kissed.
Then Tony moved to Gibbs' left arm, giving it the same attentions he had given to the right, just sucking a bit harder on the fingers, and twirling his tongue around them in a way that made the older man's cock twitch.
Tony let go of his hand, then slid up to kiss his mouth. Gibbs responded hungrily, pushing his tongue into his lover's mouth, as he rubbed against the younger man. He wanted Tony to speed up things, yet at the same time he enjoyed the lazy pace.
Tony licked and bit his way slowly down Gibbs' chest, past his stomach, to his navel. He moved on the side, to pay attention to the older man's hips and then to his thighs, completely ignoring his cock.
Gibbs groaned, disappointed, but not too loud. He was enjoying the care his lover was reserving to his body, and he liked how focused Tony looked as he continued to move down his body, kissing and licking his legs as he hand down with his arms and chest.
Then Tony moved up again for another kiss, swallowing Gibbs' moan with his lips when, all of sudden, a slick hand wrapped around the older man's so far neglected cock.
When had his lover poured lube in his hand? Gibbs didn't wonder about it for long. The only thing that mattered was the touch of those skilled fingers on his flesh. He began to move his hips in rhythm with the stroking, but the hand was removed, causing him to emit a low growl.
"I'm not...just getting myself ready after I got you ready..." Tony answered as he poured more gel on his fingers. His eyelashes fluttered, and Gibbs realized the younger man was preparing himself. The idea of his lover stretching himself open was very erotic.
Tony straddled Gibbs' hips, and reached back, taking hold of the older man's slick cock.
"Wait...No condom?" Gibbs asked. That was a first for them.
"No. You said it before, remember? You wanted nothing between us...and the same goes for me. That okay?" Tony answered, looking down at him.
"Very," he replied with a smile.
Tony slid backwards, and then there was pressure as the younger man slowly sat down on him, taking his cock inside. The friction was different without the condom and Gibbs had to restrain himself from bucking upwards and bury himself to the hilt.
Biting his lower lip, he waited until Tony took him fully inside, his palms rubbing his taut thigh muscles. The younger man then leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of Gibbs as he whispered, "You feel so good, Jethro."
Tony moved over him, sliding back and forth over his hips, riding him and Gibbs let him do most of the work, occasionally rolling his hips under him.
The older man reached out with his left hand and wrapped it around the erection that bumped his belly every time Tony sat down. He was getting close, and he wanted Tony to come first. He pumped hard for a few times and then, when he felt he was about to explode, he whispered, "Come for me, Tony."
Tony moaned and did just that, warm liquid spilling over Gibbs' fingers. He bucked up one last time and came, with a loud groan of pleasure, relief and yes, affirmation. He was alive, Tony was alive...and in that moment nothing else mattered.
Tony slid over his hips once more, and sagged, resting over Gibbs for a few moments. Then he pulled off and, taking the covers he had pushed away before, pulled them over their bodies and dropped down onto the bed next to the older man. "That was great, Boss! Thank you," he exclaimed with a smile, his breathing still a bit hurried.
"Thank me? Thank you!" Gibbs replied, he too smiling.
"Thank us, then..." Tony amended, rolling into his usual sleeping position. He kissed Gibbs' shoulder, before laying his head over it. "Good night, Jethro. Sleep well."
"You too, Tony." He answered, kissing the top of his hair.
Silence settled over them, broken only by the sound of their breaths. Gibbs let his mind drift as sleep slowly crept over him. He thought of the events of the past months, of how much Tony and him had supported each other, offering comfort to one another when things seemed to tough, and rejoicing together when something good happened to one of them. He also thought of the many times they had made love, and of how attuned they were to each other, not just Tony to him. They were always so in sync with each other's needs, to their likings, to their wishes, in a way that went far beyond the physical, but involved all of themselves: body, heart, mind…soul.
In bed, at work, in their life.
A perfect fit.
A Perfect Match.
Well, that's it for this story. I hope you enjoyed it!