Category: NCIS angst, hurt/comfort, slashy fic

Rating: NC-17 overall

Characters: Gibbs/Dinozzo

Series: 1/2

Spoilers: Assume all of Season One esp. High Seas

Summary: Sulking. Tony owies. Guilt-ridden Gibbs. Manipulative Tony.

Archive: Just tell me where it’s going

Additional ‘stuff’: Inspired by the unsubtle hints in ‘High Seas’ that Tony might be the teeniest bit jealous of (the very cute) Stan Burley. Might not be medically accurate. This part owies, next part recovery.

Title: Hurley-Burley

Two days earlier…

Tony hissed, rubbed his belly, realized that just made it hurt more and dropped onto the bunk, doubled over. It was so hot in the small room he could feel his heart beating in his chest.

‘Dinozzo!’

Gibbs sudden appearance in the doorway made Tony look up and he pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind and hauled himself to his feet, sighing at the nagging pain in his groin.

‘Yeah boss?’

‘Stan’s found some footage of the flight deck ops we need to look at.’

Back home…

Gibbs unpacked his gear and clothing, separating each item of clothing into dark colors and white, two heaped piles growing as he worked at the task.

Tony had been uncharacteristically quiet on the cab ride home, but Gibbs put that down to the stressful nature of the case. Or something from Tony’s past. Or something else. With Tony he mostly guessed, sometimes worked it out or got a hint from someone else as to what was bothering the younger man. Hearing the front door slam Gibbs sighed and continued to sort his laundry.

Two hours later…

‘This is Tony. Leave a message.’

‘Tony, where the HELL are you??!! Answer the damn’ phone!!’ Gibbs snarled. After a few seconds he folded his phone closed and headed upstairs.

An hour later…

Gibbs started the car and pulled away, heading for the nearest basketball court.

On the few occasions Tony had needed space, he had taken the ball and headed for the court a few blocks away. Gibbs got in the habit of checking the top of the refrigerator, which was where Tony insisted on keeping the ball, to give him an idea where Tony was.

Gibbs pulled the car up and watched Tony playing solo, t-shirt dark almost all over, clinging to Tony’s upper body. He smiled as Tony congratulated himself on a particularly long-range basket, high-five-ing empty air.

‘Hey.’

Tony ignored Gibbs and continued to shoot hoops.

‘Tony!’

Tony threw the ball hard at the basket and it rebounded, bouncing several times before landing at Gibbs’ feet. Turning, he scowled. ‘What?’

Gibbs picked up the ball and rolled it to the far side of the court. ‘Let’s assume I’m not psychic. What is it?’

‘I’m fine.’

Gibbs crossed the court and frowned as Tony backed away from him, facial muscles twitching. ‘Tony, did something happen on the ship?’

‘Aside from *Stan* licking your boots every opportunity he got?’

Gibbs sighed inwardly. If there was such a thing as a fourth dimension of insecurity, that was the place Tony inhabited.

‘Tony…’

‘Mr. Anticipation!’ Tony snarled. ‘You never bought me a bagel!’

‘You don’t *like* bagels Tony.’ Gibbs said, remaining calm with extreme effort.

‘So?! Mr. ‘I was a Senators aide’ does. And you never, ever shake my hand! Did he live with you too?’

Gibbs fought his rising anger. Finally, the reason for Tony’s behavior was becoming clear. Calmly, he shook his head. ‘No.’

‘No?

‘No.’ Gibbs repeated, closing the distance between them. ‘Now let’s go home.’

A moment later, Tony screamed, dropped to his knees, clutching his belly and curled into a tight ball.

Gibbs grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911 as he leaned down, hand resting on Tony’s shoulder. ‘Ambulance!’

********************************

In the back of the ambulance, Gibbs kept back as the EMT worked on Tony, Tony’s voice tight with pain as he whispered his answers to the man’s questions.

‘How long has he been in pain?’

Gibbs shook his head. ‘It just came on.’ He watched as the guy pulled Tony’s sweatpants down.

‘There’s no scar. You know if he’s had his appendix out?’

Gibbs shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Is that what it is?’

The EMT shrugged. ‘Could be. Most likely.’

Gibbs called Ducky and the ME promised to meet them at the hospital, reassuring Gibbs that Tony was in good hands and would be taken care of.

*********************************

‘His white blood cell count is elevated. Scan shows his appendix is inflamed. He’ll go straight into surgery when we can clear a theatre.’

Tony lay on the gurney, face pale and damp with sweat, hands moving slowly on the white sheet. Gibbs stood over him, eyes fixed on Tony.

‘Hurts.’ Tony whispered.

‘I know. You’re gonna be fine.’ Gibbs responded automatically. What else *could* he say? Tony had been unwell for days, according to the ER doctor, and he hadn’t noticed. Guilt enveloped him in a suffocating hold and wouldn’t let go.

‘Was he better than me?’

Gibbs frowned at the whispered question. ‘Different. Not better.’

Tony’s eyes narrowed and he gasped as a wave of pain and nausea washed over him. ‘Am I gonna die?’

Ducky’s voice carried from the doorway. ‘No Anthony, you are not! Your surgeon is ready for you and you are leaving…’ He turned as a young man in a short white coat knocked. ‘Right now my boy.’

Gibbs stood rooted to the spot as Tony’s hand slid from his, the bed wheeled from the room.

Ducky walked across, sighing deeply, opening his arms as he neared Gibbs.

Hours later…

Ducky took care of calling Kate and she in turn called a couple of the other agents, commiserating that they would be on call for any incidents reported over the weekend without telling them any details other than Anthony was in the hospital and Gibbs and Ducky were staying with him until he recovered from surgery.

Giving in to Gibbs’ persistence, the surgeon allowed Gibbs to visit Tony in Post-Op, smiling behind his back at Ducky’s mouthed ‘Thank You.’

‘Hey.’

Gibbs smiled at Tony as the younger man’s eyes flickered open and he groaned softly, releasing lungfuls of anesthetic-scented breath over Gibbs who leaned down very close to Tony’s cheek, his hand brushing the white sheet covering Tony’s pale body. ‘Next time you’re sick, you tell me. Or else.’ Sliding the sheet up, Gibbs tucked the sheet gently around Tony’s shoulders.

Tony gulped at the tone of the whispered reminder and nodded slightly, feeling Gibbs gentle touch on his shoulders. His own voice was husky, sore from the tubing, dry from the gas. ‘Yes boss.’

A tall dark man in scrubs approached the bed and Gibbs sat back. ‘Mr Dinozzo? Your surgery went well. There was no sign of peritonitis and I think you’re gonna be just fine. How’s the pain?’

Tony sighed, closing his eyes tiredly. ‘Hurts.’

The surgeon smiled. ‘It will do for a while yet. We’ll keep you on the pain relief and I’ll get someone to take you back to your room. Okay?’

Gibbs looked up. ‘Thanks Doc.’

The man who looked like Gerald’s younger brother – same smile, same huge frame – nodded. ‘Anytime. You gonna be taking care of him?’

Gibbs thought of all the possible replies to the question, settling on the easiest. ‘Yes.’

The surgeon nodded. ‘Ducky said you might be. He’ll need to take it easy. Confined to barracks for a while. Ducky also said you knew what that felt like.’

Gibbs groaned inwardly. Was he allowed *no* secrets?

Frowning as his beeper sounded, the Doctor nodded, turning away, mind already elsewhere. ‘Take care.’

Continued in Part Two

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