Two Wolves - 11/19

[xanthefic]

It feels like such a long wait for the fighters to return. Even though Gibbs was certain he’d win, Tony is worried all the same. Anything could have happened to him out there, and Gibbs’s certainty is no guarantee that he’ll come back safely.

At some point Ellis turns off his radio. Maybe he’s gone off duty and another guard has started his shift out there. Tony doesn’t want to look into the hallway for fear of starting a new altercation, and after the way the last one ended that’s a risk he doesn’t want to take.

So he just sits there, with his back against the wall and his arms around his knees, hugging himself, and waiting.

It seems like hours. It probably is hours. Finally, he hears a noise in the hallway, and the sounds of the fighters returning to their stalls, one by one.

He squeezes his arms more tightly around his knees, waiting for Gibbs, hoping for Gibbs, worried beyond belief that Gibbs might not return. He has no idea what he’ll do if that happens.

At long last, the door opens, and he looks up, heart in his mouth, to see Gibbs standing there.

He looks like shit. He’s got butterfly stitches in a cut over his eye, there’s a laceration on his jaw, and there are several dark red bruises on his ribs. Worse than that is the look of utter defeat in his eyes. He clearly won, or he wouldn’t be here, so why does he look so defeated?

Tony gets up, slowly. Gibbs just stands there, unmoving, gazing at Tony. Behind him, the door is slammed shut and locked.

“Boss…are you okay?” There’s no reply. Tony moves towards him. “Boss, you’re freaking me out. Are you hurt?”

Tony remembers the dark bruising on Rajul’s body; if Gibbs is bleeding internally then there won’t be any medical treatment for him. They’ll just dispose of him the way they disposed of Rajul.

Tony stands in front of Gibbs, mapping every new bruise on his skin, his gaze raking over every single injury to assess its severity and find out what’s wrong. Still Gibbs makes no reply; he looks all locked up in himself, as if he can’t speak.

“Jethro?” Tony reaches gentle fingers to touch the side of Gibbs’s face. He can smell the soap from the post-fight shower Gibbs just took, and he’s relieved he doesn’t have to smell some other guy’s scent on him. Gibbs clears his throat and seems to come to. He looks tired and old.

“I failed you, Tony,” he says wearily. “I got this all wrong. I’ve been fighting the wrong damn fight all this time.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gibbs looks battered and worn. His skin is pale, making the bruises stand out in stark contrast. Tony traces his fingers from one bruise to another. “Was the fight harder than usual?”

“Yeah. I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“Worrying. About you.”

Tony nods, understanding. “You think I make you weak.” That’s what Ellis as good as said earlier, and maybe it’s true.

“No!” Gibbs jerks away from his gently questing fingers. “I mean…it was harder to get into the right headspace to fight. I kept wondering what Ellis was doing to you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Gibbs looks straight at him, those sharp blue eyes missing nothing, as usual. “You look like someone walked across your grave.”

“Ellis didn’t touch me.”

“He doesn’t need to touch you to hurt you.” Gibbs shrugs. “I know that.”

“How?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Tony has a suspicion that it probably does, but now isn’t the right time to push. He changes the subject. “Did Matt win his fight?” he asks, remembering how desperately afraid Greg was that his lover would lose.

Gibbs frowns, looking confused, as if he doesn’t even remember who Matt is. Then the memory seems to kick in, and he nods. “Yeah, he did.”

“That’s good. Greg was worried because…” A thought occurs to him. “Did Greg win too?” he asks, thinking it’d be ironic if Matt won and Greg didn’t after all the worrying Greg was doing.

“Yeah. They both won. Scott had a good night tonight.” There’s something about the way Gibbs says it that makes Tony shiver.

Gibbs goes over to the basin and runs some water into it. He scoops out a handful and drinks it. Then he straightens, squares his shoulders, and turns to look at Tony again. Tony can see the bad news in his eyes before he even says a word.

“Scott knows we lied to him about who you are. Walid told him, as punishment for me winning my fight tonight. Scott’s going to put you in the pit next week. Walid says you’ll be fighting McIntyre.”

He says it all in a flat monotone, delivering the bad news in typical Gibbs style, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Tony rocks back on his heels. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Gibbs looks furious. “O-fucking-kay?” He turns and slams his fist against the wall, the first display of emotion Tony has seen from him since his return. “You have no idea what it’s like out there, Tony. Facing me in the pit is nothing like how it’ll be against McIntyre.”

Tony shrugs. “What do you want me to say, Gibbs? It’s not in my control. If it happens, it happens, unless I can find a way to steal a cell phone in the meantime…”

“Christ, you and the goddamn cell phone! Won’t you ever give up about that?”

“No! And I don’t know why you’ve given up, either!”

“I haven’t! It’s just a lousy plan!”

“Then come up with a better one!”

They stare at each other for a long moment, an atmosphere of tense fury in the air, both of them irritated by the other’s failure to understand. Then suddenly, in the middle of it all, Ellis’s radio starts blaring out again.

“No! Fuck it! NO!” Gibbs howls, putting his head back and screaming in frustrated rage. “Not now. Not fucking now!” He storms over to the door and bangs on it over and over again with his fists. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Tony can see a vein bulging in Gibbs’s temple, and he’s not surprised the man has finally reached breaking point. He’s just surprised it took this long.

“You shut up, asshole!” Ellis roars back from the hallway. Then the sound is turned up, blaring out so loudly it’s impossible to ignore. Gibbs begins beating on the door with his fists in a frenzied rage. Tony gets it; the frustration, the helpless impotence of their situation, and the fact that none of it is in Gibbs’s control...it’s all boiled over into this display of raw fury.

“Hey…you’re looking at this the wrong way,” Tony tells him quietly.

Gibbs just stands there, pounding his fists pointlessly against the door.

“It’s boring as hell in here – but good old Ellis is providing us with some entertainment. Listen…” Tony holds up a hand. “This is good stuff. Sam Cooke – ‘Wonderful World’. I love this song, Gibbs.”

Every single muscle in Gibbs’s body is screaming out his tension, and Tony isn’t sure he’s even listening.

“This song reminds me of one of the best scenes ever, in the history of movies. Did you ever see the movie ‘Witness’, Gibbs?”

Gibbs stops pounding and stands with his forehead pressed against the closed door, his body shaking, sweat pouring off him.

“There’s this great scene in the barn, where Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis dance to this song, and the sexual tension between them is electric! They come from two different worlds, and there are so many reasons why they can’t be together, but you just want them to kiss.”

“Don't know much about a science book, don't know much about the French I took, but I do know that I love you, and I know that if you loved me too, what a wonderful world this would be…” Tony sings along to the song blaring out from the radio.

Gibbs turns to look at him, an incredulous expression on his face. “A movie? You’re talking about a movie at a time like this?”

“It was a great movie, Gibbs!” Tony grins. “One of the classics. And this is a great song. It always reminds me of that scene.” He hesitates and then decides to go for it. What is there left to lose anyway? “I had such a crush on Harrison Ford back then.”

“Harrison Ford?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow. “You mean Kelly McGillis.”

“Her too.” Tony grins. “Beautiful woman. But Harrison Ford was more my type.”

Gibbs frowns. “There something you’re not telling me, DiNozzo?”

Tony laughs out loud. “Oh, plenty, trust me, Gibbs, but I think maybe you’ve always known about this, on some level. Harrison Ford is one of the greats. He has that cool, macho thing going on, like Steve McQueen. I always loved his movies.”

“You’re trying to tell me you’re gay? You?” Gibbs looks incredulous.

“Bi,” Tony corrects. “I love the pretty girls too. Not the pretty boys though…I like my guys older – tough and hard-assed – like Harrison Ford. And like you.”

He holds his breath, watching as Gibbs processes that. There’s no reply. Gibbs is just looking at him, his chest heaving up and down.

“If you’ve been beating yourself up about what happened in the pit last week, then don’t.” Tony shrugs. “I’m a long way from being a shy little virgin with guys, Gibbs. I’ve done that before. Lots of times.”

Gibbs still makes no reply, but there’s a dark, brooding look on his face.

“Not that I’m saying that was good sex, because it wasn’t. It was crap sex. The crappiest sex I’ve ever had, and I never thought I’d say that about sex with you.” Tony grins. “’Cause in my head, sex with you was always going to be wild and intense and blow my mind – but in a good way. I never figured it’d happen in a pit full of sawdust, at gunpoint, with people watching, and some weird ‘fuck or die’ scenario going on.”

Tony knows he’s babbling because he’s so nervous and because Gibbs isn’t saying a word. Maybe now wasn’t the best moment to come out to him, but they’re running out of time, and he doesn’t want to waste what little they’ve got left.

Gibbs is still standing there, just staring at him, that same dark look on his face. Maybe it’s time to try a different tactic.

“So…do you want to dance?” Tony asks, holding out his hand.

That at least elicits a response, even if it’s one of incredulity. “Dance? In here? Are you insane?” Gibbs looks like he’d rather go back out into the pit and fight again.

“Sure. Why not? Ellis has gone to all that trouble to provide the entertainment, I’m going to hell in the pit next week, and you’re all beat up on the outside and fucked up on the inside. Seriously, Gibbs, in the circumstances, all things considered – what else is there to do but dance?”

Tony doesn’t miss the tiny hint of a smile that quirks on the outer corners of Gibbs’s mouth.

“You’re an idiot, DiNozzo.”

“I know. ‘I don’t claim to be an A student, but I’m trying to be…’” Tony sings. “‘For maybe by being an A student baby, I can win your love for me.’”

He moves closer, still holding out his hand, watching Gibbs closely. Gibbs looks as if he’s torn between his two wolves, various different expressions warring on his face, and Tony knows it’s down to him to make sure the right wolf wins.

Tony moves his hand and snaps his fingers, dancing in time to the tune. “C’mon, Gibbs – dance with me…”

He grabs Gibbs’s hand and pulls him into the centre of the stall, swinging him gently, to and fro. At first Gibbs is stiff and resistant, and Tony waits for the explosion of anger…but it doesn’t come. Instead, something inside Gibbs seems to break, and he suddenly throws back his head, gives a loud, howling laugh, and starts moving in time to the music.

It’s just a moment, one brief moment in time. It doesn’t last long, and yet somehow it also seems to go on forever. Tony can almost feel Gibbs’s light wolf rising to the surface, fur ruffled, teeth bared, but alive and kicking all the same, still there after months of being shut out, pushed down, and denied.

Gibbs is laughing, his feet are moving, and he looks almost happy. They both know that nothing awaits them but a whole world of hurt, but they have now, right now, and they’re going to seize the moment.

The song comes to an end. Their feet slow down and then stop, and they both stand there, looking at each other, still holding hands. The atmosphere in the tiny room is suddenly electric, and Tony can feel all the individual hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Screw Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis – their sexual tension has nothing on him and Gibbs right now.

“Hey! We’ve gone from ‘Witness’ to ‘Dances with Wolves’,” Tony says to diffuse the tension. “Get it? That would be you – the wolf – and me doing the dancing. Now that was another great movie…Kevin Costner…never felt the same about him as I did about Harrison, but…”

Tony trails off. Gibbs isn’t listening. He’s just looking at him, an expression of hungry intensity on his face, his eyes fixed wolfishly on Tony’s lips. Tony has that feeling you get when the rollercoaster reaches the top and pauses, hanging on a precipice, and you want to get off the ride so badly…but at the same time you also want to experience the terrifying thrill of plunging over the edge.

Then it’s too late, and he’s in free-fall as Gibbs moves in close, grabs his shoulders, and kisses him hard on the mouth. Gibbs is a force of nature, wild and unrestrained as he wraps a fist in Tony’s hair to keep him still, pulls him in, and works his lips open.

Tony wraps his arms around Gibbs’s body and returns the kiss, opening up his mouth to Gibbs’s tongue, his own questing just as furiously in Gibbs’s mouth.

Gibbs pushes him against the wall, devouring him with his kiss. Tony slides his hands down and cups Gibbs’s buttocks, kneading them rhythmically. He can feel the hardness of Gibbs’s erection against his thigh, and his own cock rising up to meet it.

There is nothing else but Gibbs’s lips on his, and Gibbs’s hard, fighter’s body pressed against him. This is nothing like it was back in the pit. This is real desire, both of them wanting the other, and each of them lost in the moment, blocking everything else out.

Tony pushes Gibbs back, but only so he can throw himself onto the mattress and pull Gibbs down on top of him. Neither of them can bear to be out of physical contact for even a second, needing the skin-on-skin contact like they need to breathe.

Tony rolls over on top of Gibbs, and Gibbs winces, reminding Tony of his sore ribs.

“Sorry…just looking for this.” Tony fumbles around in the blankets and finds the oil he stole from Frank. “You want to catch or pitch?” he asks, between kisses. He draws back to find Gibbs staring up at him. “Gibbs? Jethro?”

Gibbs just pulls him back down and devours him with another hungry kiss, his hands exploring Tony’s ass, his cock rock hard between their bellies. Then, mid-kiss, he rolls Tony over, so now Tony is on his back, and somehow Gibbs has maneuvered himself between his legs, opening them with his hands. He presses a finger against Tony’s hole, circling it without pushing in.

“Okay…got it. I’ll catch,” Tony says with a grin.

Gibbs moves his hand to Tony’s cock, and Tony mewls with pleasure at the sudden firm touch. He looks up to find Gibbs grinning down on him, a feral expression on his face. Gibbs then proceeds to give to Tony the kind of exquisite hand job that Tony has been giving to him these past few days, returning the favour with interest. He takes Tony right to the brink of orgasm and then moves his hand away, leaving Tony whimpering in disappointment.

“Not yet.” Gibbs takes the bottle of oil from Tony’s hand and pours some on his fingers. Then he pushes Tony’s legs open again and slides a finger into his hole.

“Okay…that’s good for me,” Tony pants, opening up wider to let another finger in. He’s so aroused that he’s impatient, pulling Gibbs down on top of him, trying to get him to hurry it along.

Gibbs stops and pulls back. “No…this time we do it properly,” he says firmly, and he slides his fingers back inside Tony’s body and opens him up, stretching him until he’s wide and ready.

Tony wants him inside him so much he can hardly stand any more delay, and eventually he knocks Gibbs’s hand away, grabs his hips, and then guides his hard cock towards his waiting hole.

It’s tight, and his hole feels stretched impossibly wide around Gibbs’s big cock as it goes in, but it doesn’t hurt the way it did back in the pit last week. It feels so good he instantly wants more, and he pulls Gibbs into him so he’s fully immersed in his body and holds him there, never wanting to let him go.

Gibbs puts his hands on either side of Tony’s head and gently kisses his mouth again, kiss after kiss after kiss, soft, loving, warm, gentle and so intense. Tony knows what Gibbs is like when he’s focused, but he’s never been the object of that focus before, and it’s thrilling and scary at the same time.

Gibbs kisses his eyelids, his cheeks, and his forehead and then dives back into his mouth again, opening his lips with a sweet thrust of his tongue. Tony can feel Gibbs’s hard cock fully lodged inside his body, joining them together. His own cock is pressed between their bellies, pulsing urgently.

Gibbs takes his time. He kisses Tony repeatedly, not moving, his cock rigid inside Tony’s hole. Then he slowly moves his hips back and glides back in again. It’s smooth and controlled, and he never takes his eyes off Tony’s face as he moves inside him. He pauses on every inward thrust to kiss Tony again and then draws back. In and kiss…back…in and kiss…back. Tony reaches down and grasps his own cock, sliding his hand along it and rubbing hard in time to Gibbs’s thrusts. He lifts his head eagerly to meet Gibbs’s kisses, his body quivering with pleasure as Gibbs speeds up, his cock snagging Tony’s prostate with each deep thrust, making white sparks flash behind his eyes.

Tony comes, the moment lost in a sweeping haze of pleasure. Gibbs thrusts a couple more times and comes too, blinking almost in surprise as he shudders out an orgasm. He hangs there for a moment, looking down on Tony, and then he sighs and collapses on top of him, claiming another kiss. Tony wraps his arms around him, and they stay there for a long time, Gibbs lying on top of him, kissing his mouth gently. No tongues this time, just light, butterfly caresses of lips on lips.

Gibbs is shivering, and Tony isn’t sure if that’s from the sweat drying on him or the overwhelming emotion of the moment. It felt so intense and passionate, and he’s all too aware of how long Gibbs has been locked up in here, refusing to take comfort in sex or human companionship. He holds Gibbs tight against his own body, warming him until the shivering subsides.

Eventually, Gibbs withdraws and slides over onto the mattress beside him. Tony turns, tugging the blankets over them both, and they lie there in the dark, just gazing at each other. Tony’s hand is on Gibbs’s hip, and Gibbs’s leg is slung over Tony’s legs, skin pressed against skin. Their situation is just as hopeless now as it was when Gibbs returned from the fight, and yet somehow everything has changed and anything is possible.

Gibbs smiles tiredly and moves a hand to gently stroke Tony’s hair.

“How long…?” Gibbs’s voice is hoarse, and he coughs to clear his throat, but Tony knows what he’s asking.

“Ten years. Why else do you think I stayed and put up with such a bad-tempered bastard of a boss?”

Gibbs gives him a lazy grin and taps his hand half-heartedly on Tony’s head. As head-slaps go, it’s a pale imitation of the ones he’s used to, and yet it’s the first one Gibbs has given him in over five months and for that reason alone it makes Tony break into a wide, insane smile of happiness.

Gibbs wraps an arm around him and pulls him close and a little while later Tony falls asleep, his head resting on Gibbs’s shoulder.

It must be hours later when he wakes up and finds Gibbs still gazing at him in the dark. He wonders if Gibbs has slept at all, or if he’s just been lying there, looking at him all this time, watching over him as he sleeps.

“Whassup?” Tony whispers.

Gibbs levers himself up on his elbow and rests a hand on Tony’s chest. “I was the same as you…when I first got here. It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten.”

Tony runs his fingers over the short grey stubble covering Gibbs’s head. He likes the feel of it, but he likes the way Gibbs bows his head and lets him do it even more. It’s like the wolf is almost tame.

“We stole the supplies truck, Tony,” Gibbs says quietly. He sits up, and Tony sits up too, gathering the blanket around them. “There was this Marine – Gunnery Sergeant Benjamin Harris.” He glances sideways at Tony, a tiny smile on his lips. “He was about your age. Brave. Smart. Talked a lot. Liked movies.”

“I like the sound of him.” Tony grins.

“He could be a pain in the ass, but you got used to him after a while.” Gibbs quirks a grin back at him. “I knew he was someone I could rely on, so I told him my plan. I’d got talking to Pete, and I knew about the cell phone and the smart card. One day, Ben and me pulled supply truck duty on purpose, and we managed to steal that truck right out from under their noses. Had it all planned – went like clockwork. I got the fighters organized so some of them created a diversion in the gym. The guards ran off to handle it, leaving only one of them guarding us. Ben stole the smart card and got the doors open, and I knocked the guard out and stole his gun. Then Ben got into the truck beside me, and we drove straight out of there.”

Gibbs leans forward and wraps his arms around his knees, and Tony watches him, waiting.

“It was dark out there, and we didn’t have a damn clue where we were, but we were out. I drove us across the open land at about 100 miles an hour, looking for a road somewhere. We were free. I could smell the freedom, Tony. We were so damn close.” Gibbs drops his head and looks down at the floor. “Ben got the cell phone out of the box, and I asked him to dial your number.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah. Knew you’d get McGee to figure out where we were and send help.”

“So what happened? I never got the call.”

“No, you didn’t get the call.” Gibbs is silent for a while, staring into space. “There was no service on the damn cell phone. I’m not sure where the hell we are, but it must be wilderness, out in the middle of nowhere. I kept on driving, but it’s private land, and there were no roads – not that I found anyway. It just goes on and on…miles of dirt track. Never even saw a road.”

He turns to look at Tony. “They found us. They shot out the truck’s tyres and surrounded us. Had us at gunpoint, so we surrendered. They brought us back to the stable, herded all the fighters out into the main room, and….”

“They killed Ben,” Tony says quietly.

“Yeah. I was winning too many fights by that stage for them to kill me, but Ben was expendable. They made him kneel down, and put a bullet in the back of his head. Then…” His hands form into tight fists, his body tensing. “Then they got Brian – the kid who couldn’t fight – the one they were always bullying. He wasn’t even involved in the escape, but they knew I liked him, so they made him kneel down in front of me...”

He pauses for a long time. Then he looks at Tony again, his face expressionless. “They lined up three of the other fighters on one side. Said I had to kill Brian, or they’d kill all the others. Three lives against one – my choice. I pull the trigger and kill Brian, or they kill the other three men.”

“Don’t tell me – that was Ellis’s idea,” Tony says quietly.

“Yeah. Like I said, he doesn’t need to lay a finger on you to make it hurt.”

“So you did it. You killed Brian.”

Gibbs nods. “Object lesson. I didn’t try to escape again.”

Now it all makes sense. Tony puts a hand on Gibbs’s shoulder and squeezes. No wonder Gibbs shut everyone out after that. It was too dangerous for him to get close to any of them and make them a possible target. Gibbs shut down not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

“See, way I am isn’t because I love the fighting so much – although you’re right – a part of me does love it,” Gibbs says, with the weary, brutal honesty of a man who knows his own weaknesses all too well. Gibbs glances at him sideways. “The way I am is because I’m just trying to keep everyone safe, only way I know how, Tony.”

~*~

Gibbs sits there, looking at Tony in the dimly lit stall. He feels like a tin can that Tony has been opening up, bit by bit, ever since he arrived here, and now the contents are spilling out all over the place, and he has no idea how to put them back. He doesn’t even want to try.

In opening up those parts of himself that he shut down, it’s like he’s lost control of the process. Now it’s all coming out, not just going back five months, but going back ten years. He’s spent an entire decade trying to deny what he felt for Tony, to keep it out and push it away, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that anymore. He can’t keep shovelling his feelings down and locking them up.

Tony is watching him, but then Tony has been watching him for the past ten years, waiting for him to make a move. Why the hell did it take him so long?

“What did Ellis do to you today?” Gibbs asks quietly.

There’s a haunted look in Tony’s eyes. Gibbs recognizes it because he’s seen it in Sam’s eyes, and Matt’s, and Greg’s, and reflected back at him in the mirrors in the showers all too often. It’s what this place does to you.

“Tony?” He squeezes Tony’s leg.

“That guy I told you about – the one Sam beat up in the pit last week…”

“After they shot Steve?” Gibbs can still remember the look in Hurrell’s eyes when he returned to the truck. He’d found a dark wolf of his own and fed it that night.

“Yeah. I got talking to him. He was pretty sick…dying. He said his name is Rajul. I asked Ellis to get him medical treatment.”

“That was never going to happen.” Gibbs wraps his arms around his legs, feeling very old and very tired. He’s been here too long.

“I know. I suppose I just had trouble getting my head around the fact that it is that brutal here, no matter how many times you told me. Anyway…Ellis shot him. Then he had me clean up the stall and the body. Took me a while.” Tony gazes at him almost defiantly in the dimly lit stall.

“That’s not all that happened.” Gibbs has been in enough interrogations to know when he’s not hearing the whole truth.

Tony sighs. “No. Ellis wanted to give me a taste of what it was like in the pit. I had to jerk off…he gave me thirty seconds, or he shot Rajul.”

“That sounds like Ellis.” Gibbs can feel his jaw tightening. He looks at Tony searchingly and sees shame there, but no guilt. “You did it, didn’t you? You managed it?”

“Yes. Just about did it in time – by thinking of you.” Tony gives him a ghost of a smile. “But he shot Rajul anyway. The bastard just turned around and shot him, in cold blood. Gibbs, how do you do it in the pit? How the hell can anyone do it?”

“Because you have to.” Gibbs shrugs. “You found that out, Tony. If you don’t someone dies; might be you, might be the other guy, but it’ll be one of you. So you have to do it.”

He doesn’t want to think about the pit and what he’s done there, and he really doesn’t want to think about what will happen out there next Fight Night, but he knows they’re both thinking about that anyway.

“What are we going to do?” Tony asks.

“I’ll think of something.” He turns his head to look at Tony, a little grin on his face. “Do not try and steal a damn cell phone.”

Tony laughs. “I won’t. But I’d rather die than be a puppet in this freak show, so if that’s what it comes to, that’s what I’ll do, Gibbs.”

“I hear you, Tony. Just give me some time to think before you do anything stupid.”

He feels like he’s waking up after a long sleep; not just a five month sleep, but twenty years, going all the way back to losing Shannon and Kelly. He thought he felt alive out there in the pit, but Tony just showed him a different definition of feeling alive, and he likes this one a hell of a lot better.

He gazes at Tony’s tousled hair and familiar features. He’s been looking at them a long time and trying not to see them for what they meant to him. Now he knows, but right at the point when it’s too late. They probably only have this one week left together and then it all gets blown to hell.

He moves the blankets aside, lies down, and places his head on Tony’s chest. Then he pulls the blanket up over them both and wraps his arms around Tony’s body. He holds him tight and listens to the steady beat of his heart under his ear.

Now he has him, he never wants to let him go.

~*~

Tony rests his fingers on Gibbs’s shorn head; the silver stubble is smooth under his fingertips. “Why do they shave your head?”

“Hair gives an opponent something to grab and bring you down. It’s a weakness you can’t afford in the pit. Frank shaves all the fighters the day before a fight.”

“I didn’t recognize you when I first saw you.”

“Didn’t recognize you, either.”

“No, but for different reasons.” Gibbs glances up at him. “You were too far gone, Gibbs. I wasn’t even sure you were in there.”

“You sure now?” Gibbs’s eyes are gleaming wolfishly in the dark stall.

“Getting there,” Tony says quietly.

“What’s missing?”

“Apart from your hair?” Tony grins, and Gibbs reaches up and slaps his head lazily again. It feels good to have some genuine intimacy with the man, an intimacy that isn’t about sex. God knows, he never exactly expected Gibbs to be playful, but drawing out the white wolf is proving to be a revelation. “Did you ever read the Narnia books, Gibbs?” Tony asks.

Gibbs has always been used to the way his mind skips around, so Tony isn’t surprised that he takes this particular change of subject in his stride.

“Yeah. Used to read them to Ke…” He stops short. “Used to read ‘em,” he amends, but they both know what he was going to say. Tony runs his thumb soothingly over the silver stubble on his head.

“My mom used to read them to me when I was a kid. There was this one bit that always got to me. It was when they had Aslan tied up on the table of stone. Mom used to laugh at me because they had him tied up, the rope cutting into his paws, and they were taunting him and mocking him and about to slaughter him…but the one thing that really upset me was that they shaved off his mane. He didn’t seem like Aslan without his mane. It showed how much they’d changed him, brought him down to their piss poor level, and made him weak.” He pauses for a moment, still stroking Gibbs’s shorn hair. “Nobody likes seeing their heroes that way.”

“I don’t have any magic from before the dawn of time, Tony,” Gibbs says tiredly.

“Sure you do. You’re Gibbs.” Tony grins down at him. He’s never yet lost faith in Gibbs, and he doesn’t intend to start now. He figures the white wolf inside Gibbs just needs more feeding to get up to full strength and when it does, Walid and the other bastards running this sick freak show had better watch out.

Gibbs glances up at him, a puzzled, almost bemused expression on his face. Maybe he’d forgotten just how much faith Tony has always had in him. Tony is glad he reminded him because Gibbs suddenly moves up, takes Tony’s head between his hands, and kisses him on the mouth. It’s long, deep, and slow, and so incredibly focused and intense that it makes Tony shiver.

After all these years of nothing, now it seems that Gibbs can’t keep his hands off him. Then again, that’s not surprising; Gibbs never does anything by halves. While he was keeping Tony out he was doing it with all his might, and now he’s letting him in, he’s giving that his all too. That’s classic Gibbs.

How long it’ll last is another matter, but not one Tony wants to think about right now. He is under no illusions about this. Gibbs is lonely and desperate; Tony isn’t expecting him to still want to be this close when that isn’t the case anymore…if that ever happens.

Gibbs finishes kissing him and looks down on him, his hands still cupping Tony’s face. Tony gazes back up at him, completely in thrall to the intensity of that dark-eyed gaze. It’s almost as if Gibbs’s white wolf is visibly drawing strength from him, drinking it in thirstily, and it’s so compelling Tony can’t look away. Then the moment passes, and Gibbs drops a more casual kiss on his mouth and releases him.

Gibbs moves over to lie down next to him, one arm slung possessively over Tony’s naked body, keeping him close. Tony moves in even closer; if they don’t have long, he wants to make the most of it.

They’re holding each other so tight that Tony can feel every rib and hard muscle in Gibbs’s body. Tony rests his chin on Gibbs’s shoulder, Gibbs rests his hand on Tony’s ass, and they fall asleep that way.

When the klaxon wakes them the next day, Tony knows immediately it’ll be different now. For a start, Gibbs leans across and presses a brief kiss to his hair before getting to his feet. Up until now, whatever intimacy they’ve shared at night has been forgotten during the day.

What’s also different is the way he’s treated by the people running this place. Nobody gave a damn about his training regime last week, but now, the minute he steps foot in the gym Frank comes over to him.

“Scott tells me you’re going up against McIntyre in the pit next week,” he says, looking Tony up and down with an assessing gaze. “You won’t win.”

“So people seem to think,” Tony replies stonily.

Frank gives a little bark of a laugh. “Even Leroy will struggle against Mac, and you’re no Leroy.”

“Don’t under-estimate Tony,” Gibbs cuts in from where he’s busy taping his fingers nearby. “He’s killed a trained Mossad Kidon, and he once took out an armed man while beat up and tied to a chair.”

“Thanks, Boss.” Praise from Gibbs is rare, so Tony laps that up.

“Besides, I taught him everything he knows,” Gibbs adds, patting Tony’s face lightly as he passes him by on his way to the boxing ring.

“He’s got a broken hand, he’s carrying too much fat and not enough muscle, and he has virtually zero experience in the pit. He won’t win,” Frank says again, shaking his head.

“Again with the weight jibes. I’m not fat, am I, Boss?” Tony asks mournfully, although in truth, standing beside Gibbs who has been in training for months, he can see the difference.

“Nah. Just cuddly.” Gibbs winks at him.

Tony looks at Frank, and Frank looks back at him, and Tony can see his own incredulous expression mirrored on Frank’s face. Did Gibbs just *wink* at him? Gibbs, who hasn’t cracked a smile for weeks, and who spends every day in the gym pounding a punching bag into submission with a grim expression on his face? Maybe that white wolf is closer to the surface than he thought.

“C’mon, Tony. Get that bubble butt in here,” Gibbs says with an impatient jerk of his head towards the ring. “I’ll go through some moves with you.”

Somehow, Tony doesn’t think these moves will be as much fun as the moves Gibbs showed him last night, but he strides over there and gets into the ring anyway. Frank follows.

Gibbs isn’t messing about. This is nothing like the tutorials Tony got back at NCIS, and he thought those were bad enough. But when he lands on his back with Gibbs straddling his chest for the fourth time in as many minutes he puts up his hands in surrender.

“Damn it – go easy, Boss.”

“McIntyre won’t,” Gibbs snaps.

Tony is about to growl a retort when McGuire calls him out to visit the doctor.

For once, Tanner doesn’t appear to be coked off his head. In fact, he seems irritable and depressed. He undoes the bandage around Tony’s fingers to check on them with jerky movements of his hands, making Tony wince.

“Fingers take about five or six weeks to heal. These are nowhere near healed. I’ll re-bandage them but it’s kinda pointless because Mac will probably just break them again the minute you step into the pit.” Tanner gives a shrug.

He puts a fresh bandage on Tony’s fingers, glances at his notes, and then back at Tony. “Look, let’s be honest, after Fight Night you won’t be in this stable, so there’s no point to all this, but Scott wants you to at least put up a fight to entertain the crowd, so I’m going to give you the maximum dose.”

He pulls a syringe from a box and fills it with liquid from a vial.

“Maximum dose?” Tony asks, gazing at the syringe anxiously.

“Yeah – we’ll get you nice and pumped up for the pit. I wouldn’t normally start a new fighter on a dose this high, but we don’t have time to finesse you, and it’s not as if Scott plans on keeping you anyway. This is just for the fun of it.”

“Fun for who?” Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow.

Tanner gives a nasty grin. “Well, not for you, Tony, that’s for sure.”

“Are there any side effects?”

“Plenty.” Tanner shrugs. “Look, we’re not asking your permission here, Tony. This isn’t some nice, safe clinical trial. Scott wants you doped up to the eyeballs, so that’s what’s gonna happen.”

“I don’t respond well to drugs,” Tony says nervously. “Even painkillers make me go loopy, so I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Aw – really?” Tanner says, in a tone of false sympathy. “Sorry, Tony, I think you’re mistaking me for someone who gives a damn.”

He nods his head at McGuire, and Tony finds his arm grabbed. He’s pulled off his chair and forced over the steel table. He can’t do anything. He can’t get away or refuse the drugs. He can only stand there, helpless, as Tanner jabs the needle into his ass and injects all that junk into his bloodstream. He hates that he has no control over what is being done to him, and he gets a taste of the frustrated anger Gibbs must feel about being forced to take this medication week after week.

His skin feels red and itchy even before he’s left the infirmary. McGuire escorts him back to the gym where Gibbs takes one look at him then grabs his shoulder and hauls him back into the ring and tells him to get fighting.

Tony doesn’t need any encouragement. He can feel the blood thumping in his veins, making him hungry for something, although he’s not sure what. He goes after Gibbs, fists flailing, but Gibbs is too fast and too good for him as usual.

Gibbs is talking to him, but he can’t hear anything except the sound of his own blood rushing through his body. He feels a huge surge of energy, and he bounces, feints, and swings as he pursues Gibbs around the ring, fists flailing.

Suddenly the floor disappears from under him, and he finds himself lying on his back looking up at Gibbs, and – damn it – his cock is ramrod hard.

“Shit.” He turns his face away, feeling his face redden. He’s used to being naked in front of the other fighters, but he’s never been hard before, and it’s embarrassing. His mind is full of images of shoving Gibbs up against a wall and burying himself balls deep in his ass; of holding Ellis down while he punches him, over and over again; of grabbing a fistful of Scott’s hair and crashing his head into the wall; of getting hold of that bastard Walid and….

“Tony!” Gibbs slaps him hard across the face. “Focus,” Gibbs growls in his ear.

“Can’t…oh shit…shit, Gibbs. How the hell do you survive this? I’m…I want to…” He gazes up at Gibbs helplessly.

“I know.” Gibbs pats his face gently where he slapped him. “I know, DiNozzo. You want to fight, and you want to fuck, and that’s all you want to do right now.”

Tony feels another surge of rage. He wants to shove Gibbs off, to push him down, to pummel him into the ground and then to fuck him through the floor. He heaves upwards and succeeds in dislodging Gibbs from his chest, but Gibbs just flips him over onto his front and sits on his back, holding him down with a vice-like grip on his shoulders.

“You have two choices, DiNozzo,” Gibbs hisses in his ear. “You control it, or you give in to it. What’s it to be?”

“Fuck you!”

Tony feels Gibbs grabbing a handful of his hair, and then his face is shoved down onto the floor.

“Find something to be angry about. Channel the anger. But never let the anger control you or it’ll destroy you,” Gibbs hisses in his ear. “Now, what are you angry about, Tony?”

“You sitting on my goddamn back!” Tony says immediately.

“Good. What else?”

“Being here! Being locked up. I hate being locked up. I want to…” A surge of helpless fury floods through his body, and he pushes up against Gibbs, only to find his face being slammed effortlessly back onto the floor.

“I told you – control the anger or it will destroy you.”

Tony doesn’t care if it does. He just wants to give into it, to fight, and fuck, and lose himself in the rage that’s coursing through his veins.

“What else?” Gibbs demands, forcing him to think.

“Vance and his refusal to damn well listen; Jenny and her stupid fucking vendetta against the frog and how she screwed me over because of it; the way McGee eats those Nutter Butters…crunch, crunch, crunch.”

“Good. Keep going.”

“Ziva, accusing me of jealousy all the time – what the hell is that about? What am I damn well supposed to be jealous of? The fact that she has a love life with CIRay, and I don’t after I split with EJ? Damn it – maybe I am.”

“More.”

Gibbs’s fist is still tight in his hair, keeping him immobilized, forcing him to think when all he wants to do is fight.

“You! You and the way you’d go all lone wolf on us every single time Mike Franks came to town or something personal came up. I hate the way you always cut me out of anything personal, like I’m not the loyal schmuck who stuck around all these years, who always has your six, who covers for your sorry ass, and who pulled you out of a car when you were drowning.”

He feels another surge of anger and tries to push back and shove Gibbs off him again. Gibbs thumps his head forwards one more time.

“You’re not done yet,” Gibbs growls in his ear.

“Fornell…now I am jealous of him, and the way you talk to him, and hang out with him, while loyal schmuck over here doesn’t get a look in.” He pauses for breath.

“Don’t stop now. You’re on a roll.” Tony thinks he can hear a note of amusement in Gibbs’s voice.

“My dad – for all the lies, and the spin, and for making me believe all his stupid stories. For always telling me what to do, and how to do it, and for the eternal disappointment he feels about his only son not being the chip off the old block he wanted. And for never being there. For never damn well being there when I wanted him…for every single, lonely second of my fucked up childhood…”

He’s so angry he’s practically choking with rage.

“And my mom…my mom for dying and leaving me alone with him…”

He gives an angry sob, his body shaking with rage.

“That’s it. Get it all out, DiNozzo.” Gibbs’s voice is an anchor, keeping him grounded, bringing him back to himself. “And find a way to master it, or it’ll drive you insane. Trust me. I *know*. Now what else?”

“Pizza! I am so sick of all this healthy food. I want a goddamn pizza!”

That seems to break something inside, and Tony takes a few deep breaths, blinking as rivulets of sweat fall into his eyes. Gibbs is right; he needs to focus. Slowly, gradually, he calms down and gets himself under control. And slowly, gradually, Gibbs releases his hold on him, although he stays on top of him, keeping him down. Only when Tony is breathing normally again does Gibbs let him up and haul him to his feet.

Tony feels like a wreck. He rubs an arm over his eyes to wipe away the combination of sweat and angry tears. Throughout this entire humiliating experience, his cock has remained rock hard and vivid images of sex continue to flash through his mind.

“With me…now,” Gibbs orders, and he strides out of the ring and takes Tony to the restroom next door. A guard follows – one of the guards always follows Gibbs wherever he goes – he’s their prize asset. They do at least let him use the toilet unsupervised though.

Gibbs pushes him through the restroom door, one hand on his shoulder, slams him back against the wall, and then goes down on his knees and takes Tony’s hard cock in his mouth. It’s such a blessed relief to feel that warm pressure around his cock that Tony shouts out. He grabs hold of Gibbs’s head, but Gibbs shakes him off with a look of annoyance. Then he goes back to swallowing Tony’s cock clumsily again.

It’s not exactly the best blowjob Tony has ever had, but it’s one of the most welcome. It doesn’t take much before he can feel himself coming. Gibbs draws back, getting to his feet again as Tony shoots out onto the restroom floor. Tony breathes heavily and thumps his head back against the wall with a bang. It’s taken the edge off; now he can at least think straight.

“Better?” Gibbs slaps his cheek lightly, bringing him around, and Tony gives a tight, grim nod.

“Yeah. Thanks. And, you know, sorry.” He makes a little face.

Gibbs grabs his head, pulls it forward, and rests his forehead against Tony’s. “Never apologise,” he hisses fiercely, and Tony can feel his thumb rubbing up and down his neck soothingly.

“I know. Sign of weakness,” Tony mutters feebly, managing a little grin all the same.

“Good boy.” Gibbs pulls back, plants a little kiss on his mouth, and then turns and leaves. Tony takes another deep breath and then follows.

~*~

Gibbs watches Tony like a hawk for the rest of the day. Tony’s just about holding it together, but barely. He doesn’t blame him. He knows what it’s like to have the drugs make you think and feel things that confuse and enrage you, and Tony got a massive dose without any build-up. That has to driving him nuts.

Frank wears Tony out with a tough exercise regime designed to test his limits and that seems to help; the constant activity is an outlet for the aggression and sexual frustration.

Tony looks exhausted and subdued by the time they return to their stall later that night. He’s hard again, despite several more trips to the rest room during the course of the day when Gibbs knows he jacked off.

“That stuff I said earlier.” Tony runs a shaky hand through his hair, making it stick up even more than it is already. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did, and you’re right. I’ve been a shit to you.” Gibbs shrugs. “You have always had my six, Tony, and I have always shut you out.”

“That an apology?” Tony gives him a faded smile.

“No.” Gibbs glares at him. “But you deserved better.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Anger: thought I couldn’t have you. Thought I shouldn’t want you. Fear: only been in love once before, Tony, and that nearly killed me; didn’t want to do it again.”

Tony looks startled, and Gibbs wants to smack his stupid head. “You didn’t figure it out? I thought you damn well knew! After last night…”

“I assumed you were just lonely. And, you know, horny.” Tony grins.

“It’s been five months, and I never touched any of the other fighters outside the pit or let them touch me. You were the only one, Tony, despite all the damn drugs. I’d never have let anyone else get close the way I let you. You think if it was McGee in here with me, I’d have let him touch me like that?” Gibbs feels irrationally irritated by the fact Tony hasn’t figured it out. “Christ, Tony, I’ve been in love with you for just as long as you have with me!”

“Love? Leroy Jethro Gibbs actually uses the ‘l’ word?” Tony gives him a smug, shit-eating grin.

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “Shut up and get your ass over here.”

Tony comes easily into his arms, and it feels so good to have him there, where he belongs. Gibbs kisses him, loving the softness of his mouth, and the way his lips open up to let him in.

He pushes him down onto the mattress, finds the oil, and spreads it on his fingers. Tony lies there with his legs open, looking up at him, his lips swollen from kissing and his hair sticking up in points. Gibbs gets hard immediately, just looking at him.

There’s always been something so sexual about Tony. It’s something about his mouth, and the way he moves; something about how he loves to tease, and how he’s always stood too close on purpose, getting into his space to demand his attention; something about the way he’s always danced around him, taunting him to get a rise out of him and invite a head-slap; something about the gleam in those mischievous green eyes and his constant need for Gibbs to notice him.

Tony exudes a sensuality that has been driving Gibbs nuts for years. He’s always wanted to tame that teasing mouth and to sink his cock into Tony’s ass and make him scream with pleasure.

Gibbs strokes Tony’s soft, golden skin with oily fingers. He trails them over his chest, circles a nipple, and squeezes gently, loving the way Tony arches up into him, responding so eagerly to every touch.

Gibbs moves his fingers down and stretches Tony’s hole, eliciting little panting moans from him. When he’s done stretching him, Gibbs slicks oil onto his own cock and positions himself between Tony’s legs. He slides into Tony’s waiting hole, and at the same time grasps Tony’s cock in his oily hand.

“Oh shit…oil feels good…was rubbing it raw…” Tony hisses.

Gibbs grins down on him and begins to thrust with long, slow, powerful strokes, loving the feel of Tony’s warm heat milking his cock. He pauses to kiss Tony regularly as he thrusts, and Tony opens up even more, helping him sink balls deep into his body. It feels so damn good and before long they both come.

Afterwards, he drags Tony into his arms and lies there, his nose buried in Tony’s hair, inhaling the scent of him. It feels so good. He feels strong and powerful, as if nothing can defeat him, and yet he knows that isn’t the reality of their situation.

Tony turns in his arms and looks at him. “When you sucked me off in the restroom earlier, I got the feeling you hadn’t done that in a long time.”

“Yeah.” Gibbs strokes his hand along Tony’s thigh, unwilling to volunteer any more information than that.

“Look, I get it, neither of us likes talking about this kind of shit – that’s why it took ten years to get us here in the first place. But, see, the thing is, we don’t have another ten years to figure this out. We probably only have a few more days, and I’d like to fill in some of the gaps before the world comes crashing down around us.”

Gibbs shifts uncomfortably. “Liked guys when I was a teenager,” he says. “Jerked a few off. Sucked a few off. Then Shannon came along, and I never looked at another guy again. Never wanted to. Assumed it was just a phase.”

He’s quiet for a long time, until Tony nudges him. He swallows down hard. Talking about himself has never come easy to him, but Tony’s right; they don’t have much time, and he owes him this.

“After she died…” His voice comes out in a croak, and he clears his throat and tries that again. “After Shannon died, I didn’t think about it too much. I just chased after every redhead I could find in the hope it’d feel like it did with her all over again. Thought I could find her in those women, but she was long gone, and I ended up chasing shadows. Then you came along.”

Tony is quiet for once, gazing at him with rapt attention.

“And it blind-sided me.” Gibbs shrugs. “Thought I’d never feel that way about anyone again, least of all a guy. Wasn’t expecting it. Couldn’t accept it. And buried it down deep so it couldn’t fuck up both our lives.”

“Rule twelve,” Tony says quietly.

“There for a reason. Getting involved with Jenny nearly got us both killed. And besides, you never shut up about all the women you were dating. You sure as hell never gave any indication that you like Harrison Ford as much as you like Kelly McGillis.” Gibbs gives a little grin.

“Self-protection. I found out I liked guys at boarding school and then discovered girls at summer camp.” Tony gives a lascivious grin, clearly relishing that memory. Then the grin fades. “But my father always disapproved of every single thing I ever did, and I didn’t want to give him any more ammunition. So I kept it quiet – it’s easier that way. I thought it wouldn’t be a problem until I met you. Then I knew nobody else would ever do, so I was stuck following you around like a puppy for the rest of my life. But being near you was better than nothing at all, so I learned to live with it. Although sometimes I wanted to slap *you* upside the head to make you notice me.”

“Oh, I noticed you plenty, Tony,” Gibbs says in a rueful tone. “Just tried to pretend I didn’t.”

Tony starts to laugh, and Gibbs bites his shoulder gently. “What’s so funny, DiNozzo?”

“Just thinking…ten years, Gibbs! Ten long years we’ve had this between us, and we never once said a word about it. It took shutting us up together in a steel box and breaking us down with drugs to get us to admit we felt a damn thing for each other. There has to be an easier way of getting laid.”

Gibbs chuckles into Tony’s neck. “We’re both stubborn bastards.”

“So, you like pitching, but have you ever wanted to try it the other way around?” Tony asks, gazing at him curiously. “It’s good. I like it both ways.”

Gibbs tenses up. “No. Until they put me in the pit for the first time I’d never fucked any guy up the ass, and I’m sure as hell not letting any guy do that to me. I made a vow they’d have to kill me first.”

“Is that part of what motivates you to win?” Tony asks curiously.

“Yes,” Gibbs says firmly. He doesn’t like the quizzical look in Tony’s eyes. He knows Tony all too well; he’ll take that as a challenge. “Not gonna happen, Tony.”

Tony grins and wraps his arms around him, nuzzling sleepily into the crook of his neck. “Whatever you say, Jethro. Whatever you say.”

~*~
End of Part Eleven
Part Twelve
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