Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,

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NCIS fic: Trespass (Gibbs/DiNozzo, PG-13)

Title: Trespass
Author: skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: around 1600
Summary: Tony courts a slow and painful death by snooping through Gibbs' bedroom.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : Uh, I made up Gibbs' military unit, so if I got it wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it. Fixed, thanks to lurksnomore - I bow to your awesome canon knowledge! Beta'd by ennui_blue_lite, who is stuck with me FOREVER. ♥

Sometimes Tony wondered if he had a death wish. It was really the only way he could explain snooping around his boss's bedroom. Granted, Gibbs was at the office thinking Tony was too weak to even leave the guestroom bed - and okay, also granted, maybe he really was too weak to be leaving the guestroom bed, but come on. An opportunity like this couldn't be ignored. And Gibbs knew all about Tony's propensity to snoop, so leaving him alone in his house was practically an engraved invitation to poke around, right? That was Tony's story and he was sticking to it.

So far he hadn't really found anything interesting. He was determined to find out all of Gibbs' secrets, though - nobody could have as boring a personal life as Gibbs appeared to. It wasn't physically possible.

Tony was kind of hoping to find a hidden button that opened an underground lair where Gibbs kept all of the accoutrements of his secret double life as a super-hero, but he'd settle for finding Gibbs' porn stash. Not to be confused with the porn 'stache, which, thank God, had died a well-deserved death a few weeks after Gibbs' return from Mexico.

Sadly, a search of the dresser drawers had revealed only clothes. Clothes! Who kept only clothes in their bureau? There were stacks upon stacks of plain Hanes briefs (of course his boss wore tighty-whities, there was just no other underwear that he could remotely imagine Gibbs in, and seriously, he'd tried), plain socks, undershirts, and sweats, plus some old t-shirts worn to satiny softness. Tony would love to rub his fingertips over those shirts when he could feel Gibbs' warm skin and firm flesh underneath, not that he would ever get such an opportunity. But anyway, not a secret button or lever to be found anywhere.

Tony's favorite hiding spot as a teenager, the space between the mattress and box spring, revealed nothing interesting, and nothing was under the bed either, not even dust bunnies, which sort of impressed and frightened Tony in equal measure. The man was seriously anal about cleanliness. No wonder he went ballistic when Tony left his towel on the bathroom floor. And what did it say about Tony that his cock had gone from zero to sixty in two seconds flat when Gibbs started in on him about it? Probably better not to examine that too closely.

The closet held nothing but perfectly pressed and carefully hung (heh heh, "hung") khaki slacks, polo shirts, and a couple of off-the-rack suits Gibbs wore for court appearances. It was a sign of how truly far gone Tony was that he actively lusted after Gibbs even when he was wearing one of those abominations.

He wondered idly if Gibbs sent out his laundry to be done or if he did it himself, standing in his living room wearing only his practical undies, efficiently wielding an iron and a spray bottle of starch as he pressed his clothes. And Jesus, even that image was enough to get Tony's engine revving. Tony had always known that when it came to the boss, he was kind of pathetic, but this was a new low, even for him.

He smacked his forehead against the closet door a few times just to emphasize how truly wretched his existence had become, and then immediately regretted it as his poor abused head reminded him that it had taken a few hard knocks recently. He waited a few seconds for the worst of the blinding headache to subside, then surveyed the room.

A-ha! The nightstand. Surely the logical place to stow anything of a salacious nature.

The top drawer held a bottle of generic-brand aspirin, a pair of reading glasses, and a battered paperback copy of The Young Horatio Hornblower Omnibus. No lubricant of any kind, not even hand lotion. What guy over the age of 11 didn't keep lube in the top nightstand drawer? But then, knowing Gibbs, he probably had, like, a superhuman dick that didn't get chafed even if he jerked off dry. Mmmm, Gibbs jerking off. No, damn it, hold that thought. Right now must focus.

Wait - what if Gibbs didn't jerk off at all? Maybe he was really a cyborg from the future without basic needs like food, air, or orgasms. Hmm, in the future they must have found a way to harness caffeine for power since Gibbs was clearly fueled by coffee. Well, it was probably better for the environment than fossil fuels.

Okay, getting off-track again. He shook his head to clear it but only succeeded in making himself dizzy. Maybe he'd been a bit more affected by that bump on the noggin than he thought.

Still, he was this close to done, so he might as well see it through. Closing the top drawer, he opened the middle drawer. He found a picture of a younger, happier Gibbs with one arm around Shannon and the other hand resting gently on Kelly's head as she looked up at him in adoration. Under the photo was a bundle of letters, addressed to Jethro Gibbs, U.S.M.C., 1st Battalion 1st Marines, Camp Arifjan, Kuwait, tied together with a piece of twine.

He carefully replaced the photo on top of the letter and closed the drawer. He knew better than to intrude on those memories. Maybe he liked to poke his nose in other people's business, but even he wasn't quite that insensitive. Or quite that suicidal.

Okay, only one drawer left - the only place in the whole damn room that he hadn't searched yet. Surely this was where Gibbs kept his... well, his whatever he didn't want other people to know about.

He reached his hand toward the drawer, firmly grasped the knob, and -

"Find anything interesting, DiNozzo?" came a sardonic voice from behind him.

Shit! So close, and yet... so, so dead. He hopped to his feet and turned around, nearly falling over as a sudden wave of vertigo swept through him.

Thinking fast, he milked it for all it was worth, swaying dramatically and grabbing his head before moaning weakly. He peeked up through his lashes at Gibbs, who was looking unimpressed. Damn.

He straightened up and said in as self-righteous tone as he could manage, given the circumstances, "Boss, you really shouldn't sneak up on injured people like that. You could've given me a heart attack."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You banged your skull, DiNozzo, and last time I checked, concussions don't lead to heart attacks. If you're well enough to snoop through my things, you're well enough to take the consequences."

Tony gulped. "Con- consequences?" That sounded promising. Unless... "Wait, you're not going to smack my head, are you? Because that would really hurt and I don't think Ducky would - "

Suddenly Gibbs was completely within his bubble of personal space. "Not gonna smack your head, DiNozzo. Got any other ideas for an appropriate... punishment?"

Tony shivered, and this close to Gibbs, there was no way he had missed that reaction. And even if he had, he certainly wasn't going to miss the way Tony's erection was now poking him in the thigh, courtesy of too-loose pajama pants that did nothing to confine his traitorous dick.

Gibbs gave him one of those lopsided half-grins and damn, how had he never noticed how evil that expression was? "Well?" Gibbs demanded.

Wait, what? Was he supposed to be saying something? Oh, right, punishment. "Yes, boss. I mean, no, boss. I mean, I'm sure whatever you come up with" - oh bad, bad word choice - "will be fine."

"Glad to hear it," Gibbs practically purred. Tony swayed forward involuntarily, mesmerized by Gibbs' blue, blue eyes.

Then Gibbs was stepping back, and there was a toothbrush in his hand - wait, where had that come from? - and he was holding it out in front of Tony's face. "You can clean the head. With this."

Tony was vaguely aware that his mouth was opening and closing, but no sound was coming out. The toothbrush in front of his face wiggled warningly, and with a deep sigh, Tony took it.

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs glanced at his watch. "Gotta get back to the office now. I'll expect you to be done cleaning by the time I get back."

"Yes, boss." Man, this just sucked worse and worse. And not even the good kind of sucking.

"Oh, and DiNozzo - "

Shit, what now? "Yes, boss?" he asked unenthusiastically.

Gibbs stepped toward him again, his voice low and menacing. "Don't even think of looking in that bottom drawer. Because if you do, I'm going to be forced to use much more... up close and personal methods of punishment." Tony yelped as he felt a sharp smack to his ass, and then Gibbs was casually walking away.

For the second time in five minutes, Tony was rendered speechless. It must've been some kind of a record. Then his natural brilliance reasserted itself and he grinned at nothing in particular, already beginning a mental list of ways he could get himself into trouble before Gibbs got home that evening. Starting with that bottom drawer.

Tags: fic: ncis, pairing: gibbs/dinozzo
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