AN: And here's chapter seven, finally! There's a little bit more to this chap of the NC-17 nature up on my lj, which you can get to by going to my profile and clicking the homepage link, since ff. net has me absolutely confounded with links D:

And as a side note: I don't know if I've mentioned this yet in this story, but I adore feedback. Please let me know what you think I'm doing right or wrong, or just drop a note to say hi :) And thank you for the lovely reviews and favs I've gotten so far. You'll never catch me saying that I wont update unless I get x reviews or whatever, because I write because I love to write, but I also want to make others happy, too, so let me know!

Two weeks in and the nightmare are only getting worse. Gibbs is at a loss as to what to do, but he tries not to let it show, especially not at work, in front of the rest of the team. Tony won't answer whether or not the phone calls have stopped, is actually avoiding answering most questions like that at all, and Gibbs counts it as a miracle that they got him to open up just that one night. Gibbs had known it was going to be bad, that Tony wouldn't exactly be the epitome of ideal psych patient, ready to open up and spill his every thought and feeling to McGee and Gibbs from that moment on, but he had thought it would be just a little bit easier, that it would be a step in the right direction.

That would have been too logical, of course, too easy. Everything with Tony is always one step forward, two back, so why should this be any different? The frustration must be showing through a little bit, though, no matter how much he tries to hide it, because McGee actually corners him one day on his way back from the restroom, crowds Gibbs into the elevator and hits the first floor. Gibbs follows him half way across the Navy Yard before Tim gets up to courage to open his mouth and say what's on his mind.

He's actually been expecting something like this all morning, although a stroll outside wasn't exactly what he had thought would happen. He figured maybe an email, in true nerd fashion, or maybe McGee would wrangle him into lunch. Tony's out of the office for a couple days, having been delegated to travel and stakeout a suspect with Ziva, and they haven't heard anything from either of them yet. Since it's worrying Gibbs, he knows it must be worrying McGee, but he gets the feeling that's not what this whole stroll in the park – or parking lot, as the case really is – is about.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" McGee asks finally as they're passing the same black Hummer for the third time, and Gibbs stops dead in his tracks.

"No," Gibbs answers after a shocked moment processing just what the hell Tim might be talking about. "No, McGee. I'm not."

McGee shakes his head hard before he looks around to make sure no one's watching, eyes narrowed and face set in a half grimace. "Yeah, Boss. You are."

Gibbs moves to reply, but Tim doesn't let him. "Tony's hard to deal with. I know he's hard to deal with. Jesus, do I ever know it. And I know it can't be easy doing… doing ithis/i, whatever this is, with him, and with me. Especially not with me. I mean, I'm the Probie, right? I'm younger than all of you guys, way less experience, less field time. I know it still frustrates you how green I act sometimes, do stupid stuff-"

"Stupid? McGee, you're-"

McGee's glare hardens as he cuts Gibbs off. "Let me finish. Seriously. Boss. Please," the please is obviously an after thought, but Gibbs shuts up all the same and lets him talk it out. "I know I still do stupid stuff, and the stuff that I do get right is all techno junk that you'd rather have figured out the hard way. And I know that it can't be easy to start something with that, and to start something with Tony, who is about as fucked in the head as anyone I know, even if he doesn't show it at work."

McGee is still looking around every few minutes, but no one is really there – it's a holiday weekend, and if they weren't working a case they'd be home themselves – and he's gotten close enough that Gibbs is actually pushed up uncomfortably against the same Hummer they've been passing, trying to maintain an appropriate distance for the work place, even though a little part of his mind is telling him to get a little closer and find some way to shut McGee up. It's a part of his brain that hasn't really yelled at him in a very long time – he can't even remember how many years – and he blames that mostly on his ex-wives, but he figures today isn't the day he really wants to lose his job, so he stays back and let's McGee say his piece before Gibbs says his own.

"But this, Boss. This – I," McGee's winding down, is losing momentum and train of thought, his argument falling off kilter, and Gibbs is thankful.

"Tony needs you," McGee finishes meekly. "And I can't do this alone."

"Yeah?" Gibbs says, and tries to hide the smile that's threatening to ruin the very somber, emotional mood McGee has filled the space between them with.

"Yeah," McGee whispers back.

"And that's the only reason you want me to stay?"

McGee's mouth opens and shuts, but no words come out. He's floored by the question, and as much as Gibbs wants to pretend that it was asked in jest, he honestly wants to know.

McGee finally finds his voice again, and it's a little ironic that it took so long after such a long speech on his part. "No," he says finally, softly, and his eyes stray towards the gravel for a brief second before meeting Gibbs' own.

"No," he says again, voice stronger, huskier. "No, of course it's not. Damn it, Boss. That wasn't what I meant. You know it wasn't. This isn't – Listen. I want this. All of this. With Tony iand/i with you. But I don't want -- I didn't know if you --"

He's struggling to find the right words, but Gibbs has a pretty good idea what he's thinking. He has a pretty good idea because he's been thinking it himself the past couple weeks, was almost sure of it just a few minutes ago, and it scared the shit out of him to think about it, that intentions might be getting jumbled and really, who was in this for who ?

"You don't want this to be a thing between you and Tony, and between me and Tony. Maybe a little bit afraid that I don't want you, too?" Gibbs asks, and there's an uncomfortable clenching in the pit of his stomach as McGee looks at him with an expression that says Gibbs took the words he couldn't say right out of his mouth.

"Yeah," McGee breathes out. "I know that you and Tony have been a team longer than all of us, and that he's, that – I know that I'm nothing like him. I mean why would you want – just, why?"

Gibbs shrugs. He could go into a long tirade about team and family, and about how McGee is just as important to him as Tony, and that he doesn't want to watch McGee break down any more than he wants to see it happen to Tony. He could tell McGee that maybe it confused him a little bit at first, too, but that Gibbs sure as hell cares about the both of them more than he has about anyone in a long damn time, and it shouldn't really matter why.

He's given it many an hour's thought himself, and it really all comes down to this all just works so naturally that it's silly to think he wouldn't want Tim just as much as he wants Tony. He could even tell him that Gibbs was having the same worrysome thoughts, but all that would be a few too many words for comfort, especially in the middle of the Navy Yard.

He settles for cuffing Tim lightly on the back of his head and shrugging. "I just do, McGee," he says, and realizes how ironic it is that McGee is the one admitting to being afraid of becoming the third wheel in a relationship he was one of the founding members of.

McGee doesn't look entirely convinced, and Gibbs sighs. "Come over tonight after work. I'll grab dinner on my way. Got some stuff to talk to you about – about Tony," Gibbs pushes softly.

"Boss, I wasn't –"

"Yeah, I know you weren't fishing for an invite, McGee. Bring something to wear tomorrow so no one gets suspicious," he says, and pushes McGee back a little so Gibbs can squeeze by; it may be a holiday, but it's only 10 in the morning, and someone is bound to miss them.

Maybe tonight he can convince McGee that he's not playing odd man out, and he also really does want to talk about Tony. More specifically, Tony's dad and this long lost step brother that disappears just as Tony is getting reacquainted and comfortable with him. He's been doing some research – some hard, paper trail research, none of this googling and database hacking that McGee does, but he's hitting his own dead ends, and it's time to let Tim work his magic.

The building is quiet enough on a day that everyone else has off, doubly so with Tony and Ziva gone. Gibbs will never let them know it, but their bickering and pranks, as annoying as they can get, are at least decent white noise if he can get in the proper mood and zone them out just right. And after a hard case, the way his whole team moves together, leans on one another, picks each other up with joking and prodding is something that he's come to depend on himself.

Gibbs finds himself keeping a keen ear open for the buzz of his cell phone in his pocket, waiting for a call from Tony (or he supposes he'd even settle for Ziva) that he knows won't come. It's too dangerous to check in, would probably ruin their whole op, but McGee is checking his email with an unprecedented frequency, even for him, and Gibbs knows he's doing the same illogical thing. When either of them came to start needing constant verification that Tony is still there Gibbs doesn't know, but it's a little unsettling that the two of them – him and McGee – are essentially waiting around the office on their day off for contact that shouldn't come.

The problem lays, of course, therein. Because if they ido/i get that call, or that email, then something is definitely wrong. Versus just something maybe being wrong, which is why Gibbs has always tried to be on the other end of this situation, not being big on patience, as well as he employs the tactic in certain situations. But to be expected to sit and wait while half his team is hundreds of miles away is just cruel, even if it's necessary.

He's been delegated to helping out McGee, which is a little irritating in itself – not the McGee part, just the delegation part – by Vance after the last escapade he personally led ended up with some very unhappy local law enforcement, otherwise he would be the one out there with his senior field agent. McGee has everything under wraps on his end, though, naturally, because he's McGee and probably had his part done before Tony and Ziva even left, which leaves the both of them to sit around and stare at blank screens for two days.

Gibbs shuffles some papers around on his desk and pulls out a manila folder that he has very purposely not labeled. It had actually taken the calling in of quite a few favors to get the information in said file, and he can honestly say he wasn't exactly pleased to have to call them in from the FBI of all places. He shoves it to the side where he can't miss it when he leaves for the night and pulls out his cell phone to check for missed calls. There are none, of course, but he does catch the time and mutters a curse under his breath.

"McGee," Gibbs barks, and McGee jumps in his seat, eyes pulling away from the computer screen, wide with panic while his heartbeat slows from the shock.

Gibbs figures it would be inappropriate to laugh, so he settles for a half smile instead. "C'mon, Tim. Pack up for the night. You can do whatever it is on your laptop later."

He knows that McGee has a very nice desktop at home on which he does all of his nerdery – programming and whatever other geeky and possibly illegal things he knows how to do – and Gibbs assumes that McGee will get the hint that he's still supposed to report to Gibbs' house later that night. McGee swallows before he nods, slowly.

"Sure thing, Boss. Let me just shut down and I'll head out."

Gibbs doesn't bother to wait for him. He wants to get home and get showered before McGee shows up, and he's still got to pick up food on the way. He's thinking tonight is a pizza sort of night, as boring and redundant as that is, but since there's really no one around at 7:30 on a holiday, he figures he'll ask Tim, throw him off his game a little just for fun.

"Pepperoni alright with you?" he asks casually as he stands up, and Tim's eyes are almost as wide as when Gibbs startled him a moment ago as he tries to process just what was asked of him.

"Uh," he stutters before regaining composure and trying to brush off that he was flustered at all. "Sounds great, Boss. Whatever you want."

Gibbs hums his response, smirking a little, and taps McGee's desk as he passes. "See you, Tim," he says, and McGee just nods good-bye; Gibbs figures McGee is probably watching him all the way to the elevator as he shuts down, but Gibbs doesn't look back until he's pressed the down button, and even then it's just to let his eyes wander casually around the empty office. He sees McGee packing up his stuff as the elevator dings and he steps on, and then the doors close and he's left to his own devices.

It'll be nice to spend a night alone with McGee, he figures, and it'll probably help to get his mind off of Tony once he says his piece and gives McGee what he's got. It's probably stuff that McGee could have found on his own, but it's the pared down, bare essentials version. Gibbs had to sort through a lot of dirty paper work to find what is in the folder that's under his arm – years and years of suspected tax fraud, near misses, government watch notices. It's a wonder that Tony ever managed a security clearance with the black marks on his father's files.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum is Tony's step brother. A supposedly expunged DUI when Jake Rodriguez was a minor is the worst Gibbs can find on the guy. Otherwise, exemplary sailor who served his time well with the Navy, stayed out of his step father's bad business and away from the influences of his mother. Quick promotions and a couple of medals, served his time in Iraq, working recon for something that Gibbs deemed having nothing to do with his death. His assignment with Tony seems totally arbitrary, but Gibbs isn't one for coincidences, and he figures he'll task McGee with trying to figure that part out.

By the time 8:30 rolls around he's stepping out of the shower and toweling off his hair, another towel around his waist. Gibbs can hear movement downstairs and assumes that McGee either knocked and came in after a lack of answer, or just knows Gibbs well enough by now to not bother knocking at all. He just started the week's laundry last night, so most of his clean clothes are stuck in the dryer, and he wanders downstairs to grab something comfortable and catches McGee leaning awkwardly against his kitchen table with nothing to do on his way past.

McGee glances up to catch Gibbs in the doorway, and Gibbs is pleased that he's not acting nervous about Gibbs walking around half naked at least. He notices the casual way McGee's gaze drifts up before it catches Gibbs own, but doesn't mention it, just waves with the hand not holding the towel up to the second cabinet from the fridge. "Plates are up there, pizza's on the counter, drinks in the fridge. You can nuke yours if you want," he nods towards the microwave. "If you wanna bring stuff into the living room, my movie collection's not quite as… varied as DiNozzo's, but there's probably something on TV."

McGee moves to follow Gibbs' suggestion almost before it's out of the older man's mouth, and Gibbs chuckles to himself on the way down to find clothes.

"You want beer?" McGee calls from the kitchen, and Gibbs can hear the fridge opening.

"That works," he calls back, tugging on a pair of jeans and a button down that's still wrinkled from the dryer, only buttons it half way, because really, what's the point?

He comes back up to find McGee sprawled out on the couch, two plates on the table in front of him along with a beer and a coke, and McGee pulls his knees up so his feet are planted on the couch and there's enough room for Gibbs. Gibbs grabs a plate and the remote and sits down, flips on the TV and finds a suitable bad sitcom with an ill timed laugh track, turns the volume down almost as low as it will go.

"Hard day at the office, honey?" Gibbs jokes, and McGee snorts into the soda he's sat up to drink.

Gibbs takes it from him before McGee can choke proper and drop coke all over Gibbs' couch. He sets it back down and watches as McGee fails to hide the goofy smile that crosses his face. At least the tension is broken, he figures, and pulls over the folder that is sitting on the edge of the table. He hands it to Tim before he takes a bite of his pizza, and McGee opens it up to flip through the papers that are an inch thick.

He's a fast reader, so by the time Gibbs is done with his second slice he can see the disgust in McGee's face, and Gibbs guesses it's not from reading the info on Rodriguez. "Jesus," McGee murmurs just barely loud enough for Gibbs to catch. "Tony had to grow up with this shit?"

Gibbs shrugs. "Suppose so. Your turn now, Tim. Find out why Tony's dad would want Jake dead, and why he'd want to pin it on Tony."

Tim nods and Gibbs knows that's all the conversation they need to have about this tonight. There's nothing either of them can really do right now, and even if Gibbs let McGee pull out his laptop and start rooting his way through files neither of them should be able to see, there's a good chance McGee could do it a whole lot faster either from his own place without Gibbs breathing down his neck, or from work. He also knows that McGee's mind is going to be a jumble of plans to actually get that information for the rest of the night unless Gibbs can take his mind off it, but he lets McGee finish eating before they change the subject at all.

Around half past ten Gibbs figures it's probably safe to give Tony a call, figures it'll be a good way to get McGee's mind off of computers, if not off of Tony's dad, and he nudges Tim's foot to get his attention .

"Phone," Gibbs says, and nods at the cordless that's on the end table by McGee's head.

McGee hands it to him and waits for Gibbs to dial, probably already having figured out who Gibbs intends to call. He hits the button for speaker phone as McGee hits mute on the remote and ringing echoes through the room until there's a click and Tony's voice comes on the line.

"DiNozzo," it's curt and distracted, and Gibbs wonders if it's because Ziva is in the background keeping Tony busy with something stupid, or if it's because Ziva's gone to bed and Tony doesn't really want to do the same, tired as he may be.

"Status report, Tony," Gibbs says, and McGee grins as Tony laughs a little at the command.

"No problems here, Boss. Trailed our mark and got some visual confirmation of a meeting between him and some very bad dudes. Going back tomorrow to see what else we can dig up."

"And David?" Gibbs asks.

"Two hotel rooms this time. Agency's really stepping itself up, I must say. Ziva hit the hay about half an hour ago. Early morning, after all," Tony answers casually, but Gibbs can hear the strain in his voice; he's tired, but nobody likes hotel rooms in strange towns, especially not if you're used to a bed partner – sometimes two.

"You alright, Tony?" Gibbs says, and Tony's laugh is bitter.

"'Course, Boss man. Right as rain."

"I'm serious, DiNozzo," Gibbs growls, not liking the fake chipper attitude.

"So'm I, Gibbs. Honest. I mean, I'd rather be at home with you and Tim, right? But it's just a couple days. I'm a big boy. I'll survive," Tony promises, and at least it sounds a little more sincere.

Next to Gibbs Tim sighs. Tony catches it over the phone and chuckles. "That you, McGee? Isn't it past time for all good little Probies to be in bed?"

"Yeah, I miss you, too, Tony," McGee shoots back. "You'll call if you need us, right?"

"I already told you I'm fine, McMom."

"iTony/i."

"Tim. I'm fine. I promise. But yes, if I wake up in the middle of the night freaking out because of the monsters under the bed, or the skeletons in my closet then I will give you a call," Tony says after a moment's pause.

"Seriously, Tony," Gibbs pushes. "I don't care if it's two A.M. and you just want to talk. Call."

"I will, Boss. I promise. We can even turn on the TV and watch bad softcore Showtime porn together. It'll be like a slumber party," he jokes, but Gibbs is just happy with the promise and hopes it's as sincere as he thinks it is, hidden behind jest though it is.

"You're in a different time zone, Tony," McGee points out, and the disappointment in Tony's voice is almost audible when he responds.

"Oh. Damn."

"Well," Tony suggests. "How about I just watch it and tell you what's happening? I'm a fantastic commentator."

Gibbs can't help it and actually laughs at Tony's enthusiasm, letting his head fall back against the couch and thankful it's only Tim and Tony there to witness. "Sounds like a plan, DiNozzo," he says. "Now go to sleep."

Six hundred miles away Tony is grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Gibbs is sure. "Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a good idea. I'll check in for real tomorrow when Ziva's awake with real work news. You two kids better get some shut eye, too," Tony says suggestively.

McGee chuckles. "'Night, Tony. You know we miss you, right?"

"I know I'm your Senior Field Agent, Probie, but I've been gone for a lot longer than two days before."

"Yeah," McGee says, and Gibbs catches the wince and the change in his tone, as subtle as it is. "I know."

"Whatever. Miss you, too, McGirly, Boss. This gossip fest has pretty much put me to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

When Gibbs finally hangs up the phone he sets it down by McGee's half eaten pizza and stands up, offering a hand to McGee in the process. "C'mon, Tim. Tony's got the right idea, and he'll call if he needs to, so stop worrying."

McGee takes the hand, hauls himself to his feet. "I know. I know. Really. It's just," he starts, but Gibbs cuts him off.

He's got McGee by the wrist and he pulls him into a firm kiss. It's been half a week since Gibbs has gotten to touch either of his boys, and he's not really in the mood to waste the opportunity thinking when it could be much better spent doing. It hurts a little to know that Tony is alone in a hotel room in another state, but Gibbs has a phone next to his bed, and he'll make sure his cell is on full volume before they go to sleep.

He pushes McGee towards the stairs and McGee goes with a half muffled protest at being cut off, but he tugs his shirt off and over his head all the same as they make their way up the stairs. He's working on his pants by the time they're at the bedroom, and Gibbs watches McGee finish stripping as he pulls the cell from his pocket and sets it on the nightstand. He sets to work removing his own shirt and jeans, which takes far less time than McGee's own clothing, seeing as McGee had never actually changed after work. Gibbs did at least notice a duffle bag by the door and assumes there's probably an ironed shirt hanging up in McGee's car so he can look halfway presentable in the morning.

Gibbs shoves McGee back and onto the bed, lets him move up so he's resting against the pillows, Gibbs between his thighs, biting at his neck, moving his lips to McGee's to push his tongue past and he can feel the vibrations of McGee's moan in his mouth as he reaches between them to stroke down Tim's side. Gibbs settles in next to him, keeps kissing, petting, pushing, stroking. If Tony were here they'd probably do more, draw this out longer, but he's not and it doesn't feel quite right to go too far tonight, not after the phone call, and not when they're both expecting another one in a few hours, right about the time Tony usually wakes himself up.

------

Gibbs is thinking that they're going to end up falling asleep sticky and uncovered, and that waking up is going to be a highly unpleasant affair when McGee finally moves off the bed to head into the bathroom. He comes back out a few minutes later with a warm, wet towel and tosses it at Gibbs who catches it gratefully. When Tim lies back down they're both relatively clean and Gibbs has shoved the blanket down so they can pull it back up easier. McGee reaches out to set his own phone on the nightstand, sets the alarm and makes sure the volume is up before flopping back against Gibbs to fall asleep in record time.

Gibbs fully expects to wake up to Shakira blaring from his phone at two in the morning, but instead he wakes to his alarm clock buzzing 7 A.M. talk radio and a text sent half an hour ago from Tony. Slept fine. Tell the Probie he's going to give himself an aneurysm if he keeps up the worrying. Talk later Xoxo Tony