'How did that --.'

'Put it there while you were in the shower,' Gibbs told him. 'For when I was ready to open it.'

For the first time that Tony could ever remember, Gibbs appeared nervous, the envelope visibly trembling in his hands. He stared at it, almost as if he was waiting for it to grow fangs and bite him and, without warning, the misery was rolling off him in waves, the haunted look spiking his lashes with tears he held rigorously in check.

Marines don't cry.

'I've done this too many times,' he whispered, his voice tightly controlled. 'Y'd think I'd be used to it by now.'

'But if you were it'd mean you'd stopped caring,' Tony told him quietly, 'and I don't think that's ever gonna happen, Boss.'

Gibbs offered a weak smile in response. 'I hope you're right, because if I ever got to that point...'

There was so much pain in his voice that Tony could not help but respond to it, reaching out to grasp the shoulder nearest him, giving what little comfort he could. He thanked God that he had persuaded Gibbs to stay the night because something told him the Marine was going to need more than just a word of sympathy to get through this and he couldn't help wondering what had existed between Gibbs and Pacci for Gibbs to react in this way. Then he decided he didn't care, that it wasn't his business. If Chris had been what Gibbs needed, at the time that he needed it that was okay in his book.

'Want me to open it?' he asked, lightly tapping the envelope. Gibbs shook his head.

'I got it. Just...give me a moment here...'

'Whatever you need,' Tony promised, giving the shoulder a squeeze. It felt an age before the callused fingers carefully broke the seal and tore open the flap. He could feel each movement; feel the tense muscles quivering under his hand as Gibbs pulled out the contents: five white envelopes and a small stack of photographs. Gibbs dropped the latter onto the table and flicked through the letters.

'Attorney...' he identified, '...bank...his uncle...You –'

'Me?' Tony could not keep the surprise from his voice as he accepted the letter.

'You were friends,' Gibbs stated, as if that was explanation enough, which Tony knew it probably was.

As anticipated, the final letter was addressed simply to 'Gibbs'. He looked at it for a moment, turned it over, and then tossed it on the table. Resting his elbows on his knees, he lowered his face to his hands, a shuddering sigh breaking on his lips. Sensing that he needed time alone, Tony trailed his hand lightly across the bowed back in one swift, platonic caress, before rising to his feet. Their coffee had grown cold: he would take his time, wash the cups and brew a fresh pot, leave Gibbs to deal with this in whatever way worked best for him.

And he had his own letter to read.

His hand still rested on Gibbs' shoulder; he was about to let go but as he started to relax his grip, Gibbs hand lifted and covered Tony's, holding it in place.

'Promise me,' he whispered raggedly.

Every nerve in Tony's body went to red alert. He was used to Gibbs touching him in a casual sort of boss/buddy way – the head smacks, the finger jabbing in his chest to emphasise a point, the playful swats of congratulation when they tied up an investigation – but this was different. The way Gibbs was touching him now was so – intense, so – intimate. He leaned down, dropping his voice to a whisper.

'Promise you what, Boss?'

'That you won't – make the same mistake.' He drew a shuddering breath. 'That you won't let yourself – end up like Chris.'

'I won't –'

'Promise. Me. Tony.' A demand, no longer a request. His grip tightened, making Tony stifle a groan of protest as he felt the bones in his hand grind together under the force.

'This...' Gibbs could barely form the words now. 'Losing Chris like this... It hurts. But if I ever lost you...'

Words failed them both as blue eyes lifted to meet green in mute appeal and Tony felt the shock of it go right through him, like an electric charge. In that instant he was prepared to throw all his own control aside, take Gibbs into his arms and hold him, and hold him: keep on holding him until the pain went away. Yet somehow, sanity prevailed. As much as he wanted to do it, and as much as he knew Gibbs needed him to do it, he was also aware of how far reaching the consequences would be. Gibbs might need the comfort at that moment but it would not be long before he realised the weakness for what it was and when that happened he would be – mortified.

Because Marines don't cry.

Marines don't break down and blub in the arms of their subordinates.

Marines suck it up and get on with life.

But Gibbs did need something, some reassurance, and so Tony allowed his own letter to fall to the floor and instead lay his other hand over Gibbs' where Gibbs hand still lay over his, and said gently but firmly: 'I'll make you that promise, Boss – but it works both ways.'

A pause. Confusion. 'What do you mean?'

Tony swallowed hard. 'I don't want to lose you either.'

'You won't –'

'You take as many risks as I do – maybe more. You put your life on the line every day, just like Chris did.' Lifting Gibbs' hand he held it between his own as he hunkered down. 'I know I'll lose you eventually. For a long time now I've been resigned to the fact there's a fifty-fifty chance one day I'll have to bring your body home...' His own throat was growing tight now and he could feel the heat of tears sliding over his cheek. 'All I ask is that you don't make that day come too soon, because - I don't think I could go on without you either.'

For a long time Gibbs stared at him, saying nothing, and Tony watched the parade of emotions, the shock, the fear, the hurt... the joy. Everything he felt for the man in front of him, he now saw reflected back to him in those cerulean depths. And he knew the moment that Gibbs saw it too.

'Tony...'

'Shhh...' he soothed. He freed a hand and pressed his fingers against the dry lips. 'How 'bout I make you some fresh coffee. That one must be cold by now.'

The desire to pull Gibbs' hand to his lips was overwhelming but he fought it back down. Enough had been said, maybe too much revealed. For whatever was building between them to work, for it to last – if it was meant to last – Gibbs would need to overcome the harsh constraints of his military conditioning and come to Tony.

Even so, Tony had to force himself to stand and gather the wasted cups of coffee.

In the kitchen he set a fresh pot to brew, and then leaned against the counter to wait. Was it all happening too quickly? Part of him felt it was. The pull between them, that had started back at the office, was going from strength to strength. How close had he come just now to kissing Gibbs? And wouldn't that have been a wakeup call for them both! It was no good; he had to get a grip on reality again, before one of them did something they would both regret. Their friendship was too important to him to ruin it all on a whim.

Even though his bare feet made no sound on the carpet, Tony was aware of every movement as Gibbs rose from the sofa and came into the kitchen. He knew exactly the moment when the older man paused behind him, could feel the warmth of the body inches away from his own, hear the rasp of breath so close to his ear that he could feel it ghosting through his hair. With no idea what Gibbs wanted of him, he was forced to wait him out, hoping that he was not about to announce his departure.

There had to be something he could do...

'Hey, Boss...' He forced a casual tone into his voice. 'You want something to go with the coffee?'Reaching into the cupboard, he took down a small green and white tin. 'I got a fresh batch of amoretti from Georgio's.'

Unexpectedly, a snort of laughter greeted the offer. 'You trying to fatten me up, DiNozzo?'

Unfortunately, the gentle teasing lured Tony into a false sense of security and he quipped back lightly: 'Well you know what they say about the way to a man's heart...'

The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them knowing immediately, from the way the smile dropped from Gibbs' face, that it had been the wrong thing to say. Turning away quickly he began to transfer the tiny almond treats to a dish, using the simple task to occupy his hands while he tried to gather his racing thoughts. Of all the stupid things he could have said! He had worked so hard these last few months to keep the true nature and depth of his feelings hidden and now, in one careless moment, he had thrown it all away.

Movement behind him again. He could picture Gibbs raising a hand and he braced himself for the blow...

...only to feel Gibbs' fingers fall to rest lightly on the back of his head, the roughened ball of a thumb brushing gently over his skin, and he waited, knowing his whole future lay in those strong hands. When he felt the first tentative huff of laughter across his cheek all bets were off. Someone said 'Gibbs...' and he realised it was him.

'You're shaking.'

'I am?' As soon as Gibbs said it, it became true, a fine tremor running through his body, as if someone had attached electrodes to his ears and sent a mild charge through him.

Gibbs said nothing but hummed in the affirmative as he brought his other hand into play and soon strength and heat enfolded the column of Tony's neck, palms pressed to his skin, thumbs carefully working the tension from his shoulder muscles.

Tony tilted his head forward, rolling it from side to side. Gibbs hands swept outwards, across his shoulders and down his arms: paused and stroked back up again. Tony drew a deep, cleansing breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out, allowing all his fears and uncertainties to be expelled with it. Whatever Gibbs had in mind was fine with him, as long as the delicate link between them was allowed to continue.

Without warning the warmth against his back increased as Gibbs stepped closer, leaning against him. His right hand slid down and clasped Tony's, meshing their fingers; his left continued the lazy caress across Tony's neck and back. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft that Tony thought he was imagining it.

'You do know – don't you? – that you don't need to resort to bribery.'

'I – ah – I don't?'

'Nah...' Gibbs raised his right hand, bringing Tony's with it, not stopping until both rested over Tony's heart. 'You... have owned my heart... since the day we met.'

The words were sentimental and sappy, and completely out of character coming from the Gibbs he worked with every day, but they tore a sound from Tony's throat that was as much despair as it was joy. The simple honesty of the words left no doubt that Gibbs meant every one of them, yet the calm, almost matter-of-fact way in which he made his confession told Tony that these feelings were nothing new. This was no spur of the moment admission prompted by grief and loss. Gibbs had been thinking about this for a long time and had accepted it – so why wait until now to tell him?

Overwhelmed by everything that was happening, Tony allowed his body to go lax, his head falling back against Gibbs' shoulder. Instantly, he felt the body behind him flex and tense, accepting his weight without question or protest, and Gibbs' free arm wrapped around his chest to hold him fast.

'Jethro...' The name slipped easily from his lips, as if he had said it aloud a thousand times before. It was daring, almost a challenge, but to call him anything else at that moment would have been unacceptable.

'Right here.' The brush of lips across the back of his neck was answered with a whimper of need. When those same lips moved on, pressing firmly into the angle of neck and shoulder, Tony felt reality begin to spiral away from him, leaving him suspended over a void, anchored only by the solid presence of Gibbs behind him. It was at the same time too much and yet not enough.

'Let me go,' he ordered breathlessly, tugging insistently on Gibbs' hand.

Gibbs barely paused, nuzzling him again. 'What?'

'Please...' He tugged again on the arm around his waist.

'Don't...'

'I need... I can't...'

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the restraint was gone and Tony stumbled forward able, only at the very last momnt, to throw out his hands to cushion the impact against the counter.

Silence, broken only by harsh breathing, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. And then Gibbs muttering: 'I'm sorry.' There was no laughter in his voice now, no joy, no teasing, just a hollow and forlorn sound, all his earlier confidence stripped away. 'I thought...'

Tony didn't need to be told what he thought. Gibbs looked lost, abandoned. It was almost as if he had turned in on himself, trying to make himself appear somehow smaller and insignificant. Everything about him – the droop of his head, his posture, his expression – screamed of rejection, and at once Tony understood the mistake he had made.

Stupid! Stupidstupidstupid!

Just as Gibbs shifted his weight, preparing to move away, Tony reached out and gently cupped a hand to the suddenly pale face, guiding Gibbs' gaze back to him. 'Hey... It's okay.'

'Lemme go, DiNozzo.'

'Why?'

'Because – '

Tony took a step closer, placing himself between Gibbs and the door, blocking his escape. His fingers pushed lightly through the silvery hair that had fallen over Gibbs' forehead: Gibbs made no move to stop him. 'Because?'

'I don't plan on making an even bigger fool of myself than I have already.'

It was so like Gibbs to throw himself headlong into a massive guilt trip, even though he had nothing to be guilty about, that Tony could not help but smile. 'If anyone here is a fool, it's me,' he stated evenly. Quickly he pressed a finger to Gibbs' lips to silence the spontaneous protest. 'I'm sorry if I made you think I had a problem with what you were doing. I didn't. I couldn't.'

'So why..?'

'I needed - to see your face.'

'My face?' There was a note of incredulity in Gibbs' voice. 'Why?'

Tony shrugged and stepped back against the counter to give Gibbs the space he needed. 'C'mon, Jethro,' he sighed. 'We both know what a romantic sap I am and we both know I've been - suckered into the wrong kinds of situations more times than I care to think about.' He winced, ducking his head to hide his sudden embarrassment. 'Amanda Reed was a case in point. I knew there was more to her than she let on, but I was so caught up in it all I didn't stop to consider the consequences. I – couldn't risk getting it wrong this time. Not with you.'

'You thought you might?'

'Oh yeah. Couldn't take that chance, not with something this important. Truth is, I'd rather keep the little bit of you I've got than throw it all away by making the wrong move.'

'And –what you saw on my face would tell you that...' Gibbs observed.

'You can't lie to me any more than I can lie to you, Boss. I knew I'd see the truth in your eyes.'

Gibbs stared at him, a long, hard, assessing look that dug deep down, drilling right into Tony's emotional core. Only when he saw the tiny flicker of a smile on the other man's lips did Tony start to relax.

'How long have you been in love with me?' Gibbs asked softly.

It was the last thing Tony expected and the directness of the question was shocking. He felt the heat rise up his neck and settle in his cheeks. 'I-in l-love? Who- Who said..?'

'Tony...'

'No!' He pushed himself away from the counter and tried to step around Gibbs, but the older man stopped him by the simple expediency of planting a hand firmly in the middle of his chest.

'You can't know!' He closed his eyes, a pained expression spreading across his face. 'You're not meant to understand this. Dammit! You're not meant to accept the way I feel just like that.'

'So how am I meant to react?'

'Well I don't know! Get angry, I guess. Punch my lights out. Fire me...'

Gibbs' eyes narrowed and he took a step closer, moving right into Tony's personal space. 'Is that really what you expect me to do?' he asked.

Tony said nothing – how could he? How could he explain to Gibbs that experience had taught him to be over cautious when it came to his relationships with other men? That his father had cut him off without a penny because of his preferences. That all his adult life he had lived by a personal code every bit as stringent as the military's 'Don't ask, don't tell'.

'Peoria?' Gibbs asked.

Tony's head shot up. This was getting too weird. 'How..?'

'Philladelphia?'

Tony felt his face flame.

'Baltimore?'

Defeated, Tony dipped his head in assent.

'Which one?'

'All of them,' he whispered, unable to meet Gibbs' gaze. Admission, he knew, would be the final nail in the coffin of his career. What team leader would want an agent on his team who'd been thrown out of three police forces because he was gay?

'All?' Gibbs voice sounded – strained. Disappointed. Hurt. 'That's why you kept moving around?'

'I know what it makes me sound like, Boss, but that wasn't how it was...'

'Not here to judge you, Tony. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not that much of a hypocrite.' The hand still resting on Tony's chest slipped up to cup his cheek. 'Monsters, remember?' he said, and suddenly a lot of things previously unsaid were falling into place.

'But – 'don't ask, don't tell'...?'

'Is easy to deal with if you have good people around you. I'm guessing you didn't have anyone willing to back you up?'

'Hardly.' The disgust he felt was thick in Tony's voice. Nobody to back him up, nobody to talk to when things started to go wrong, just a lot of people ready and willing to show him just how they dealt with queers and perverts in the police force.

'Until you came to NCIS and met Chris Pacci.'

'He saved my life – literally. When I realised how I was starting to feel about you I didn't know what to do. Was a bottle of brandy away from chucking myself in the Potomac when he appeared at my front door, armed with a large pizza and a copy of 'Brief Encounter' – don't ask!' he added with a short-lived laugh. 'Anyway, Chris was the one who suggested I – reinvent myself as a player. Love 'em and leave 'em, he said; perpetuate the frat-boy image. I never thought it would work, but...' He spread his hands and risked a small smile.

'Here you are. Thank God.'

'Here I am, still working on the image, dodging the bullets. Still wondering why I had to fall in love with my very straight, very unavailable boss. Still hoping he'll forgive me and let me stay on his team...'

Gibbs sighed, lifting his other hand to frame Tony's face. 'Not so straight,' he murmured, 'and not so unavailable as you might think.'

'Wh-what?'

'Monsters, Tony,' Gibbs said again. 'Otherwise known as 'women scorned'. But I was lucky. I had friends willing to stand between me and any accusations.'

'Wish I had that luxury.'

'Maybe you do. Chris is gone but you still have Ducky... Abby... probably Morrow... and I know for a fact your boss would go to the wall for you.'

The breath snagged in Tony's throat at the quiet admission. 'He would?' he said. Gibbs nodded.

'Even if he's wrong and you're not in love with him, he still counts himself as your friend. Straight, gay – whatever – I got your six, Tony... just like I know you've got mine.'

'Always,' Tony vowed, leaning into the warmth of Gibbs' palm. He felt – safe. Here, with Gibbs, knowing the man would be there for him no matter what, trusting Gibbs to catch him if he fell, lifted from his shoulders the weight he had been carrying for almost twenty years.

The intensity of the exchange lasted a moment longer until, with a light pat against Tony's cheek, Gibbs removed his hands and stepped back.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Needing for Tony to be as open with him as he had been with Tony. It was no more than he deserved.

'So...' Tony said, laughter dancing in his eyes now. 'Not straight?'

Gibbs shrugged. 'Probably... fifty-fifty?'

'And... not un-available..?'

'Unattached and still breathing count?'

'So there's – a chance for – me?'

Gibbs eyes were shining with affection and... something more, and suddenly all his barriers were dropping. 'When you told Kate it was your smile got you the job, you have no idea how close you were to the truth.'

'I was?'

'Oh yeah. First time I saw you, I...' He paused, licked dry lips. 'By the time you dropped me off at that crummy hotel, my last night in Baltimore...' A shaky sigh punctuated the words as all his defences were ripped away. 'They tell me love at first sight is a myth, that it's only lust. Maybe that's true. All I know for certain is I wanted you that night – and every hour of every day since.'

'Jethro –' Tony had to force the name past his lips but Gibbs waved him to silence once more.

'We both know I'm no good with words, so hear me out, okay?' Capturing Tony's hand he smoothed it between his own. 'I've only ever been in love – really in love – twice in my life. The first time – Well, she was... taken from me. And now there's - you.'

There was no room for doubt, the declaration as honest and open as Jethro could make it, the truth there in his eyes... eyes that were full of despair and joy together. For once in his life, Tony was at a loss what to do or say next. Part of him wanted to run, as far and as fast as he could; part wanted to drag Gibbs into the bedroom and pound him into the mattress; while the rest of him was ready to drop to his knees and pledge himself to Gibbs forever. In the end he did the only thing he could: he listened to his heart.

'I think we need to go sit down,' he said, shocked at the unsteadiness in his own voice. Taking Jethro by the hand he led him to the sofa, guiding the older man to sit beside him.

'You okay?' Jethro asked.

Was he? Things had moved so fast in the last few minutes that Tony wasn't sure if he was on his head or his heels.

'I dunno. I think I'm... in shock.' He raised his eyes to Jethro's and found a look of gentle indulgence waiting there for him. 'Tell me I'm not dreaming.'

'You're not dreaming.'

'You really love me?'

'Tony!' Gibbs laughed, shaking his head. He framed Tony's face between his hands and suddenly his gaze was rock steady, boring into Tony's as if he was trying to engrave the words on his heart. 'Yes, I love you.'

'I never expected this,' Tony confessed.

Gibbs laughed. 'You think I did?' He spread his hands, his whole face lighting up with the joy of the moment. 'I just came here to have dinner.'

Tony shook his head. 'Why do I so believe that?'

~~~~~