21 DAYS by rose malmaison

Written for ncis_ficathon for sinfulslasher. This 5-chapter story is an AU Gibbs/DiNozzo, slash, angst, humor, romance, a bit of mystery. No spoilers. Warnings for sexual situations, language.

Prompts: I combined two prompts - Gibbs has to crash at Tony's place. Must be gen at the beginning, can turn into first time. And: AU fic - everyone having different jobs so they meet under different circumstances.

Beta by: combat crazy

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21 DAYS

"This Old House" by Loretta Lynn
If this old house could talk
What a story it would tell.
We built this home together
And with love we drove each nail.
Take me in your arms and hold me
'Cause we've been apart too long.
Why if this old house could talk
All it would say is welcome home.

CHAPTER 1

If this old house could talk
What a story it would tell.

21 DAYS

Senior NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Jr. stood just inside the front door of his Craftsman-style house with his cell phone to his ear. It was cold out so he kept the glass storm door closed while he looked up and down the street. "No, the Handi-Man is not here," he said into his cell phone. "Which is why I'm calling. Again." He rolled his eyes and said with extreme patience, "It's Anthony DiNozzo Jr. That's a big D as in dimwit. Little I as in idiot. Big N as in nimrod. Little O as in Obtuse. Double Z as in ZZ top and another O."

Tony listened for a bit and said in a slightly exasperated voice, "Yeah, that's right, DiNozzo, just like the famous actor. My address is 520 East Laurel, Alexandria. What do you mean I'm not in your computer? I already sent you the initial fee and. . . Two weeks ago. . . Well, look again!"

Holding the phone away from his ear, Tony took a deep calming breath and counted to ten. When he felt that he could talk without blowing his top he said, "You said you were sending out a Handi-Man two weeks ago and. . .What? No, I'm really not that Tony DiNozzo. No ma'am. No…I'm the special agent in charge of a major case response team at NCIS. No, I am not making this up just to get better service. You're talking about my dad. That's why I have Junior tacked onto the end of my name. Yes, he's the famous movie star. Yes, he's every bit as charming in person as he is on the big screen. You've been following him since he was in Beach Blanket Bimbo? Wow, I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing what a loyal fan you've been all these years. You know…what was your name again? Myrna, that's a lovely name. I'll bet someone misfiled my order, Myrna, and you're just the person to find it."

Tony glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. He had to leave for work soon. As it was, his agents would be there before him and he hated it when he wasn't first in and last out.

Tony went to close the bright orange front door – and sending himself a mental note that painting it a neutral color was going to be the first job the handyman was going to do as soon as he arrived – but the hairs rose on the back of his neck. He had the feeling he was being watched. A glance along the street told Tony that there was nothing out of place, just a few neighbors getting their kids off to school or heading out to work. Still, he had this feeling and he'd learned long ago to trust his instincts.

Suddenly a good-looking man with gray hair appeared on the sidewalk out front. Where the hell had he come from? Surely he would have noticed if a car had parked in the vicinity. It was his job to be observant, after all. The guy wasn't doing anything much, just standing there, looking over the house, but Tony's gut told him that something was up.

As Tony waited for Myrna to locate his missing order for a handyman, he watched the man walk a few feet one way and then back, all the time eyeing the house. It looked like the guy was casing the joint, except he was being so blatant about his interest in it that Tony dismissed that theory as being unlikely.

Tony checked out the man out front with interest. His gray hair suggested someone in his sixties, but the way he held himself told a different story. Maybe early fifties, Tony thought. Six-two, with the straight-backed stance of a drill sergeant. He was wearing faded jeans, and an old brown leather jacket over a dark blue polo – all of which, to Tony's observant eye, probably came from Sears.

The clothes looked good on the man's trim figure, and from the safety of his house, half-hidden behind the door, Tony didn't mind indulging in a little window shopping. He had admired many a man over the years, but had rarely touched. This man, with his flat stomach and take-charge air, made Tony think seriously about getting back into the action once again. Not with just anyone, but with this man, if he was on the right side of the fence.

Good looks aside, it was the man's eyes that caught Tony's attention; even from this distance Tony could see that they were bright blue and clear. He had a sudden, overwhelming desire to go out and talk to the guy before he disappeared.

The man tipped his head back to inspect the roof, and that was when Tony gave himself a mental head-slap. "Idiot." Into the phone, he said, "No, not you, Myrna. Talking to myself. It's okay, we're good. The Handi-Man is here." He snapped his phone shut and, not wanting to miss a chance to talk to the gray-haired man, he threw open the door, stepped out onto the front porch and called out, "Hey! Handi-Man!"

That caught Blue Eyes' attention. Tony opened his mouth to call him over but when he took in a lungful of the chilly morning air, he started to cough. "Damn it," he croaked. He tried to catch his breath but the coughing fit only got worse. Tony bent over double, hacking away. Although his eyes were watering so much his vision was seriously impaired, and he was coughing so hard he was choking, he was aware of rapidly approaching footsteps. He clutched blindly at the door handle, trying to get inside, but his vision was graying out and his knees were starting to give way.

Tony was close to panicking, and thinking, 'Shit, now I'll never get a chance to talk to him,'when a strong supportive arm wrapped around his back.

A strong authoritative voice ordered, "Inside."

Pushing aside the alarm at having a stranger half-carrying him into his own house, Tony gestured towards the kitchen and managed to gasp, "Inhaler."

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It took a few minutes for Tony to recover, and when he was able to breathe easily and his brain came back online, he found that he was seated on one of his kitchen chairs, his inhaler clutched in one hand. The gray-haired man was crouching in front of him, watching him closely with concerned eyes. Wow, he was even better looking close up, and his eyes were this piercing blue, was all Tony could think. He swallowed and gave a small cough and said hoarsely, "Thanks." It sounded inadequate to his ears but Blue Eyes didn't seem to mind.

"You okay now?"

Tony nodded, hoping Blue Eyes would stay right where he was for a while. "Fine. Give me…a minute."

"This happen often?"

Tony shook his head. After a minute, he got out, "Had a cold. Last week. Happens sometimes." The man was still watching him as if he expected Tony to keel over and die at any moment. "It's nothing," Tony said with a practiced smile but another cough spoiled the effect.

Blue Eyes looked at him with a grim expression. "Sure looked like something to me." After a while the man seemed to accept that this was not the day that Tony was going to die, because he slowly stood up and jerked a thumb in the direction of the coffee pot. "Fresh?"

Tony nodded, not daring to speak. He took a couple of breaths without coughing, thinking that he could have easily passed out and maybe even died on his front porch if this man hadn't come to his rescue. "Thanks, by the way. For rescuing me."

Blue Eyes nodded. His eyes went to the coffee pot again, as if drawn to it against his will.

It was obvious that the man didn't want to leave his side, so Tony pulled himself together and said, "Help yourself. It's strong. Need to fortify myself for work."

The man poured himself a mug of the steaming black coffee and took a big gulp. He grunted in approval. "Mmm."

"Wow, you must have a cast-iron stomach. Dr. Jenny – she's the ME at NCIS, where I work – she says my coffee should be labeled with a skull and crossbones and…uh…" Tony's voice faded as he watched the man walk slowly around the kitchen running his hands over the woodwork of the old cabinets, which had been painted by a previous owner in an unfortunate avocado color. "That's one of the jobs that needs doing. Half the hinges are coming off and some of the doors are broken. My fiancée…uh, I mean my ex-fiancéewanted to do a gut job on the kitchen but I sort of like its homey feeling and want to keep the old wood. I can't see it in black granite and stainless steel, can you?"

"This is the wrong hardware," the man said with apparent disgust, glaring at the bright gold knobs. His eyes surveyed every corner of the room, from floor to ceiling, and at one point he even got down on his hands and knees to look under the sink. He rose slowly, and Tony noticed he was favoring his left knee. The handyman said, "Plumbing needs work. Someone messed around with the original copper pipes. You've got plastic crap with bad connections. Leaking."

He pointed to the offensive pipes but Tony wasn't so interested in the plumbing as he was by the way the man's jeans stretched tautly across his thighs and ass when he bent over. Wow, he really wanted to get his hands on that. No time to pursue him now though. Besides, Blue Eyes stood up and Tony had to put on his interested-in-plumbing face. It wasn't easy.

Tony got down to business because time was a-wasting. "The original owners built the house themselves and lived in it from the 30s until they retired to Pennsylvania to the 80s. The people who bought the house from them removed a lot of the original features with absolutely no regard for the history of the house. They changed over doors and lamps, ripped out walls and woodwork, and painted everything in sight pumpkin and avocado, as you can see. They even put in wall-to-wall shag rug upstairs." Tony shuddered. "The Shag People sold it to a guy who saw the value and decided to flip it for a quick buck, but he ran out of cash a few weeks into the project, so I got a really good deal on it."

The handyman sent him a funny look, so Tony admitted, "I'm interested in the house's history and I did a bit of digging."

Blue Eyes seemed to be weighing him up. "You going to sell the house?"

Tony laughed. "No way. I've wanted to live here since the first moment I saw it. I thought my wife-to-be would love it, too, but…well, let's just say her attitude made me realize we'd never see eye to eye on anything important." Tony wasn't sure why he was telling this stranger something so personal, but as soon as he spoke, he felt a burden lift. Wendy was now part of his past, a past he'd rather forget. "She hated this house from the moment she stepped in the front door. She couldn't see the potential. Not me; I knew right away it was special. I've been living here since she walked out, a month ago. The problem is, with my workload, I haven't had the time to make any changes. I did rip out the shag rug upstairs though."

The handyman nodded approvingly. "Bet that felt good."

Tony knew he was being unusually trusting, but there was something about this man that made him instinctively have faith in him. Anyone with eyeballs in their head could see he was handsome and sexy as hell, but there was a steady aura about him that gave Tony a warm and fuzzy feeling. Whoever he was, he obviously appreciated the old house and its history. Tony could tell from the look in his eyes, the way they sort of lit up and got soft at the same time when he touched the woodwork. Tony continued, "I just want it back in its original condition – the built-ins, the stained glass window at the front that's missing, the lighting fixtures – all restored. Think you could do that?"

The handyman thought for a bit and then said, "Yeah."

Tony could see that the handyman wanted to say something else, but he appeared to be having trouble getting it out. "Is there a problem?"

"I've only got 21 days," he said.

21 days until he had to go to another job? 21 days before his carpenter's license expired? Or was a clock ticking until he had to return home to his wife? Tony would have liked more of an explanation but he could see he wasn't going to get any, from the stubborn look around handyman's mouth, so he said, "How about you start the job right away and when we get closer to the end of your window of opportunity, we check on the renovation's progress? I have to head out to work soon – in fact I'm already so late my team probably thinks I've gone to Mexico and not coming back – so how about I show you what has to be done and you can just jump right in? You write a comprehensive list and estimate the materials and labor, and make sure you let me know about any permits we need to get. We can go over it all tomorrow morning, how's that sound?"

The man stared at him for so long that Tony was about to tell him to forget it, but the guy seemed to come to a decision. "You got any tools?"

That took him aback; what handyman didn't come with his own tools? Tony had only looked around the basement briefly but he had seen a big workbench and assorted hand tools among the decades' worth of broken furniture and who knows what else that was shoved in every corner. "Uh, yeah, down in the basement. They look like they're mostly hand tools, so if you want power tools, you'll need to provide them yourself. Um…what's your name, by the way? The lady at Handi-Man never said who they were sending."

Once again, the gray-haired man paused before speaking. "Jethro. I like to work with my hands."

"Uh-huh." I'll bet you like to work with your hands and I'd like to have them work me over but good. Tony told himself to stop thinking dirty thoughts and said, "Nice to meet you, Jethro. You can call me Tony." He handed Jethro his business card and was amused when the handyman held the card as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. When Tony suggested, "Let's go upstairs," Jethro stuck it in his back pocket.

Tony explained as he climbed the stairs, "There's some horrible floral wallpaper in the bedrooms that has to come off. I think we can blame the Shag People for the major decorating faux pas." He showed Jethro two bedrooms that were empty. As Tony had said, he'd ripped out the shag rugs, exposing slightly damaged bare oak floors, but the wallpaper remained.

"Now, on to my bedroom. You ready for this, Jethro?" Tony asked. With a flourish, he opened the door to the front bedroom where he'd been sleeping. His single bed and nightstand looked lost among the walls wallpapered in a floral pattern the color of dried blood.

Jethro looked around and muttered, "Holy crap."

"Yeah. My words exactly. I've been sleeping here for the past few weeks, so you can see why I'm desperate to get it in shape. At night, the flowers come alive and try to eat me," Tony said seriously.

Jethro looked at Tony and actually smiled a little. "Lucky I came along then."

Tony smiled back, meeting Jethro's gaze, thinking that he was indeed lucky.

The upstairs bathroom was stuck in a time warp, with the original black and white tiles, some of which were cracked, and there was a big tub with no shower. They talked about what Tony wanted, which was to keep as much of the character as possible but to bring it up to date. "I must have a shower that doesn't run out of hot water after five minutes," Tony said firmly.

They went back downstairs with Tony telling Jethro, "The kitchen needs serious help, as you know. I'd like to keep the original cabinets but whoever painted them this gross green color needs to be shot. I want the shag carpeting in the dining room and living room to go. See what the floors underneath look like; get them refinished. The ceiling fan in the dining room must be someone's idea of a joke. I'd like a 1930s-style chandelier. Classic and understated." In the living room, Tony pointed at the fireplace whose wood was painted an orange-tinged beige. "That marble is just plain wrong," he said, grimacing at black-streaked white marble façade around the fireplace. Luckily, the built-in bookcases on either side were intact and, along with the paneling, were still the original walnut stain.

Jethro ran a hand over the carved woodwork and growled, "This is an original Greene Brothers mantelpiece. Who the hell would paint it peach? And there should be blue tile underneath that fake marble."

"You know about its history?" Tony asked, reminding himself to thank Myrna for sending him a Handi-Man who understood and appreciated old houses.

Jethro rubbed his jaw and looked a bit embarrassed. "I know some. This house is a Sears Honor Bilt from 1920s. Came as a kit; all the lumber, hardware, even the paint was supplied in a package deal. Over 12,000 pieces in a kit. Most people put their own custom touches on their house. You can see that this one has a lot of custom millwork – the bookcases in here, the paneling, and the kitchen cabinets. This woodwork didn't come out of any kit. And the fireplace tiles were imported from Italy, a rich, dark blue. You'll see, once I get this fake marble crap off its face."

"You obviously know your stuff, Jethro." Tony couldn't help grinning at the fire in Jethro's eyes when he talked about the house. Tony realized that he hadn't felt this good in…well, in months, since the day he'd asked Wendy to marry him. Until now, he hadn't seen how much she'd stifled him, how wrong they'd been together. He'd been feeling a bit guilty but now he was sure he had done the right thing by breaking it off.

"Yeah, well, I learned carpentry while working on…on a house like this. Your roof, by the way…it needs attention, and the gutters should be wood, not that flimsy aluminum crap."

Tony held up his hands. "Hold on there, Jethro. I don't mind sinking some money in this house, but let's take it one step at a time."

Jethro glared at Tony and said, "This isn't just a house, Tony. This is a home. You treat her right and she'll take care of you for a long, long time."

Tony couldn't tear his gaze away from Jethro's blue eyes. He'd seemed so taciturn at first, and yet when he talked about the house, when he touched the wood…he was like a different man, animated and passionate. Tony nodded slowly. "Okay, you're right. This is my home." That felt good to say and Jethro was giving him an understanding smile, as if to say he knew Tony would eventually get it. Tony felt himself heating up from being under the man's scrutiny and suddenly he got all tongue-tied. "Um…uh…I'm going to work. I'm trusting you to get things started." God, he was acting like a teenager; he had to get out of there before he embarrassed himself any further. Tony held out his hand and Jethro shook it.

As Tony had expected, his handyman's palm was rough and dry, seasoned by calluses. Tony didn't know why the feeling of the man's hand clamped around his should make him feel so good but it did. His heart was beating hard, his mouth was dry and he couldn't stop staring at Jethro's mouth, which was a really appealing shape and, oh shit – Jethro's tongue peeped out and he licked his lips, and Tony forgot how to breathe.

Tony's dick had woken up to the attraction and wanted out, and he wondered what he could do to induce Jethro to push him down on all fours, shag rug be damned, and jerk his pants down so he could fuck Tony's brains out. He'd happily endure rug burn in exchange for one good round of sex with the handyman. Oh God, this was crazy – he was fantasizing about the handyman jumping his bones. What would Jethro think if he knew that Tony had the hots for him? He'd be out that door like a flash, and would never look back.

Jethro was peering at him with concern. "You okay there, Tony? You need your inhaler again?"

For a second, Tony had no idea what the man was talking about, but then it registered that he was flushed and he was breathing a little hard. He was even starting to sweat. "No, I'm fine," Tony said with difficulty, trying not to choke on his words. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from Jethro's and forced himself to calm his breathing.

To cover up his hardening dick, which was pushing pretty insistently at the zipper of his trousers, Tony fled into the kitchen for some water. Letting the tap run, and drinking a glass of water gave him the time he needed to get his overheated emotions under control. When he was finished, Tony put the glass in the sink and called over his shoulder, "I should be back tonight. What's your cell phone number?"

Jethro came into the kitchen and stood a little too close for Tony's comfort, rubbed the back of his head and said, "Don't have one."

Tony turned and stared at him. "You don't have…? Okay, no problem." Once he got over his surprise, Tony rummaged around in a drawer and located a spare cell phone. "I keep a couple of extra burn phones around. I'm always smashing mine up." He plugged it into the wall charger and showed Jethro how to use it. "Rule number five: never be out of touch. See you later and…I haven't been able to locate a key for the front door, so come and go as you like."

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