Unwanted, Liked, Loved

By Gunnery Sergeant

Companion story to "Master, Boss, Jethro"

Thanks to Finlaure for the betareading!

---

My name is Leroy Jethro Gibbs and as of today I'm the only man in the US allowed to own a slave—and I'm not talking of the kinky, consensual slavery I once read about. I'm talking the real, ugly thing where I have the right to do everything I want to my slave, including killing him.

Now, before you get strange ideas in your head, I want to make clear this is only the second—and probably last—time I will ever refer to Tony as a "slave". I've never considered or treated him as one. The only times I raised my hands to him was to head-slap him, the same thing I do to all my agents when they need a wake-up call.

It wasn't because of my decision that Tony came into my possession. I never approved the White House practice to keep pleasure slaves, and being gifted with one was all but a happy occasion for me. I hate any form of exploitation and I find slavery abhorrent. Yet, it was something I had to swallow down, because there was no way I could refuse the gift the President or some of his advisors had decided to give me.

I remember that day of seven years ago as if it was yesterday.

I was sitting at my desk reviewing a cold case, when Dennis, the mail guy, gave me a thick envelope with the White House emblem on it. I opened it absent-mindedly and briefly scanned it, thinking it was an invitation to some reception, something the President or his staff thought necessary to hand out because I had just prevented the high jacking of the Air Force One. I was already mentally composing a "Thank-you-but-sorry-I can't-come" reply, when I realized the letter I was reading wasn't a dinner invitation.

It said that the President, in his desire to show his appreciation for my actions on Air Force One, had decided to gift me with a Personal Companion, a person who from now on would be devoted to me and would make sure I was happy, cared for and satisfied in all my needs. Included in the envelope there was the official deed of property of my Personal Companion, which I didn't read beyond the first two lines, and a financial statement saying that I'd receive a monthly sum to cover the expenses of supporting my 'reward'.

I guess I lost it then. I grabbed the documents, took the stairs by three and stormed into Tom Morrow's office.

The Director looked up at me from the report he was reading, and the fact he wasn't surprised to see me, told me he probably already knew about it.

"Tell me it's not true, Tom," I told him, showing him the letter.

He took it, smoothed it and scanned it quickly. Then he handed it back to me. "I'm afraid it's true, Jethro."

I almost groaned as he sat down heavily on a chair in front of the desk. "What in the hell possessed the President to give me such…such…"

"Personal gift?" Tom supplied diplomatically.

"If you can call it that…"

"You prevented him being kidnapped by a terrorist. He wanted to reward you."

"That's my job. I don't need a reward and certainly not one of this kind. Tell me, do I look like someone who would welcome such a gift?" I asked, hoping fervently for a negative answer.

"Of course not, Jethro. But I guess the Presidential staff made some searches and discovered…well, you're not currently married…They probably thought you'd welcome some company that wouldn't drag you into yet another divorce suit…"

I bristled as my hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Great," I growled. "They don't see me as a man who can't keep it in his pants, but as one who isn't able to keep a willing woman in his bed, so needs to be given one who won't be able to leave him."

Tom sighed, "Calm down, Jethro. I'm sure they just wanted to give you something special, and that this choice doesn't imply any personal judgment."

I shook my head, "They used no judgment at all! I don't want to be saddled with a pleasure slave! They're all a bunch of idiots if they thought I'd welcome this 'gift'! Getting Agent Todd was a far greater reward as far as I'm concerned. How is it possible we're governed by such kind of brainless people?"

Tom shook his head. "I see your point, Jethro—and I agree with you. However, I'm afraid you'll have to accept this situation because you can't refuse a Presidential gift."

"No?" I replied, belligerent, rising to my feet. I felt the need to just do that, to pick up the phone and bite the head off of whoever had decided I needed a Personal Companion.

"No." Tom repeated, rising from his desk and giving me a look that said 'That's an order, Agent Gibbs.'

We walked to the door, but before I could open it, Tom put a hand on my forearm and said, "Jethro, if you don't need the person for… personal tasks...you can put them to work in some way. I know Personal Companions are chosen for their intelligence, not just their looks. Who knows, maybe yours will be smart enough to be useful to you here, at NCIS."

I looked at him, surprised but also pleased by the offer. I was short of hands since Vivian Blackadder had left and Stan Burley would soon leave for his Agent Afloat stint. Kate was just a newbie at the investigative job and well, if this Personal Companion of mine turned to smart enough to do some paperwork, that would be very helpful. So I nodded to Tom and opened the door.

There, in the antechamber, I found the Director's Assistant, Claire, and a guy I had had never seen before wearing a visitor pass.

He was tall, well dressed, with brown short hair and green eyes and was looking at me as a child stares at Santa Claus.

My gut churned with dread under that gaze and I barked, "Who are you?"

"Anthony DiNozzo," he answered promptly. "I come from the White House. I was just assigned to Special Agent Gibbs…Is that you, Sir?"

I stiffened, almost not believing what I had just heard. As if wasn't enough they had given me a Personal Companion I didn't want or need, they had…

I turned around to face Tom and hissed, "They gave me a man?!"

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, and I've got to admit he looked just as much at a loss as me.

"Evidently someone screwed up, Jethro. And in any case, since you aren't interested in him, a man is probably better than woman. He can do jobs that, let's say it, a chauvinist like you would deem unsuitable for women."

I didn't comment, but I thought he was probably right. Since we would be forced to live together, it was probably better to have a guy around the house than a woman, as long as he didn't try to touch me, in that case I would deck him and teach him quickly to keep his hands to himself.

And speaking of hands, I ordered DiNozzo to show me his. You can get a lot of information by looking at a person's hands. Mine aren't nice, but they are useful, rough, used to work hard.

DiNozzo's instead were soft, smooth, with no calluses, perfectly manicured.

"Soft hands, Tom," I commented with a snort. "I bet he never did a manual job – a real manual job – in his whole life." I then smirked and looking straight into his eyes, I drawled, "That will change soon."

I let go of his hands and walked toward one of the conference rooms. I was almost there when I realized I was alone. I stopped and sighed. DiNozzo would have to learn to anticipate and quickly, otherwise I would end up strangling him…

I twisted my torso to look at him from over my shoulder and growled, "What are you doing, DiNozzo? Waiting for a written invitation? Come with me."

"Yes, Master!" he answered promptly, picking up a bag at his feet and running to catch up with me.

Once alone in the conference room I gestured to him to sit at the table as I paced trying to gather my thoughts.

Fact was that even if I was very, very pissed off, I wasn't mad at DiNozzo, because the poor guy had no responsibility in this. He had had no say in what had been decided for him.

It was in that moment that I stopped thinking about what all this mess meant for me and concentrated on him, fully taking in whom he was and the responsibility I had been given when he was gifted to me.

I'm a very protective man. I always have been, but that had increased after my wife and daughter were killed. I'm also a man that takes responsibility for the people that, in a way or the other, are under my care: family, friends, and co-workers, the men who had served with me and under me in the Corps. DiNozzo was now my responsibility, and thus I felt it was my duty to take care of him too.

I could only guess what he might feel. He had been gifted to a man he had never met, without knowing what kind of person I would be, but fully aware I could do everything I wanted to him. He knew that I could order him to strip down and bend over and take him every time I wanted, in every way I wanted. That I could beat him, hurt him, and even kill him.

I felt sick, nauseous, and my heart filled with compassion for the man looking at me with anxious eyes.

Yet, even so, I couldn't let him see that. My trust doesn't come easily and I had no idea of what kind of man DiNozzo was. So I didn't sugar coat my words. Yeah, I was very blunt, but I'm blunt with everyone, just in case you hadn't already guessed it.

"Let's not mince words, DiNozzo," I began. "I didn't want you and I've no use for your talents. First of all, I'm against any form of exploitation. Second, I've no interest in males and I can't understand why you were given to me. I thought they made some researches before choosing the appropriate…gift. Not that the situation would be any different if you were a woman."

He stayed silent, and I went on.

"Now that that is clear, and since you're as stuck with me as I'm with you, you're gonna to work for me, here, at NCIS. One of my agents is gonna move to another post soon, the other is a recent recruit and I'll need help with the paperwork. You think you can do it? Typing reports, doing research in the archives, running computer searches?"

He nodded firmly. "Yes Master, I'm confident I can do it."

"Don't call me master," I bristled. It was degrading, for both of us.

"Sir, then."

"No. I work for a living and was never an officer. Call me Gibbs—or Boss."

He smiled, perhaps liking the idea not to have to use a word that implied the fact he was my possession.

"Okay, Gibbs. Boss."

I stared at his bright, hopeful eyes for a few seconds more, then straightened and moved to the door. "Come on, time to meet you co-workers."

-----

Co-workers…yeah, that's what DiNozzo, all my other agents and myself have been since that very first day.

Without any need to tell it aloud, my team and the other NCIS agents understood that DiNozzo's status would never, ever be mentioned or commented upon and that I would break the legs of anyone who dared to make innuendos about what we might do at home.

DiNozzo started as a simple paper pusher, but since he demonstrated a great aptitude for the job, I soon had Tom require he was sent to attend a course at the FLETC facility in Maryland. He passed all the courses with flying colors.

When he returned, he was given the official rank of Acting Agent. He could never be a Special Agent because of his social status, but it was equally good. After all, as I explained, it was mostly semantic. For the rest of the team, he was just like us, an agent we trusted to have our backs when we were in the field and nobody gave a damn if his stipend was credited on my account or if he needed me to approve and take responsibility for his every action on the job. After all, as supervisory agent and team leader, I had the responsibility of all my agents' actions, so yes; DiNozzo's situation wasn't that different from, Pacci's, Kate's or McGee's.

------

Liked it? Let me know! And remember reviews make update faster!