Title- Unexpected

Author- PTBvisiongrrl

Part- 1/?

Date- 11/27/10

Rating – M

Pairings/Characters- Gibbs/Tony

Spoilers- A bit AU (obviously ), but this takes place before the series starts; this is a prequel to my story Unattainable.

WARNINGS- Explicit; depicts slash. If this makes you uncomfortable, DON'T READ.

Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don't own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…although Gibbs and Tony can frisk and cuff me ANYTIME.

Author's Note:

Several Unattainable reviewers asked for more in this story's odd little universe, and since I had already come up with some of them—here goes. This is one that grabbed me and wouldn't let go until I had it down. While I haven't edited the heck out of this, I do hope it passes muster. I'm still not sure how far to continue it, but at least one more chapter is in the works.

Regan's was a decent enough place. Not a dive—and he'd been in plenty of those—but not too upscale. The first floor was a comfortable sports bar atmosphere, while the second was more a dance club without the snotty club part. It was also remarkably straight for a gay bar, but that was due more to the subdued homosexuality of the clientele than anything else. After all, any bar where cops and military men were comfortable enough to be open about their sexual preference wasn't going to be flaming.

Tony had found the place soon after moving to DC and NCIS. A friend had passed the recommendation on from an acquaintance—and not knowing any place to safely pick up a guy closer than Baltimore, Tony had taken the chance. He hadn't been here enough to be considered a regular, but it had been more than a handful of times, usually after a hard case wrapped up.

The latest one had been a very hard case, indeed. Crazy hours for the better part of a week, sleeping in the office a few nights, hours of interrogation without breaking the suspect…

Tony needed to release some stress after that, and a woman wasn't going to do it. Not after seeing the violence done to the Petty Officer in the hours of rape and torture before her death.

Not that he didn't love women. He did—all shapes, hair colors, nationalities, cup sizes…. He was a connoisseur of women, frankly. But as much as he loved women, and sex with women, sometimes he needed something less—

Stressful. Sometimes, Tony didn't want to be the suave man in charge, the aggressor, the strong one. Sometimes he didn't want to have to hold back in the middle of sex, afraid of doing physical damage to his frailer partner, and unable to really feel satisfied afterwards as a result. Sometimes, only the freedom of sex with a guy could do it for him.

This was one of those nights.

As much as he loved women, Tony had found more than one man over the years that made his heart race, made him think about what was under the clothing, how it would feel to be pinned beneath his body. It wasn't a common occurrence—as a jock, a cop, he knew better than to think it was a lifestyle compatible with the world he chose to live in. Sometimes the attraction was more than a moment, and he had considered the possibility that the assumption about his world was faulty, but the attraction had never been strong enough to test that theory. But the urge still surfaced every now and again.

Tony had gone home from the office after wrapping up the case, eaten a couple slices of cold pizza, and showered. Too exhausted to go all out—not that he didn't want to look good, but a fitted dark green t-shirt with an open, lighter green-striped button down, faded light blue jeans, and a five o'clock shadow were going to have to do. He knew the color emphasized his eyes, and the t-shirt and jeans were more comfortable than the suit he'd half-lived in this week. The black leather jacket was stylish and warm enough, grabbed on his way out less than an hour after he had arrived.

The bar was half-empty when he arrived, as it was past happy hour on a work night. Tony went straight up to the dance floor, unable to sit still longer that it would take to down his first beer and not in the mood to talk just yet. The dance floor was his usual place to find the pretty boys, and figure out who could move and who could move. He didn't need a partner, didn't mind dancing by himself—but he never stayed solo for long. If there wasn't anyone to attract his attention beyond a dance or two, it was at least a convenient way to scope out the rest of the bar.

After a song or five, and Tony was ready to settle down and be human. He made his way back to the bar downstairs, where conversation would actually be possible. Ordering a Yuengling, Tony draped his jacket over a chair a seat away from a couple watching the basketball game on the wide screen behind the bar. Half a beer and several comments over the action of the game later, Tony knew the couple's names and that they weren't actually a couple, just friends. The slightly older man, Sean, had hazel eyes and dark blond hair threaded with silver. The silver made him look older than he actually was—which was only a couple years more than Tony's own age—but held a certain possibility of attraction for Tony.

They were nice enough guys, but Tony was looking to get laid tonight, not just hang out. The two didn't seem to be on the prowl, so he excused himself at the end of the half, making his way to the head.

That was his mistake. He should never have left the bar, because when he got back to his stool, the formerly empty seat between him and Sean held an occupant. An occupant that, even from behind, was familiar.

It had never occurred to Tony that the familiar man might be here, or any place like this, ever. Because if Tony had thought about it before, in one of those moments, it would have been in the shower while jacking off. It certainly shouldn't have been accompanied with the suddenly sobering thought that Tony might not want anyone at NCIS to know about his bisexuality. No one did yet, but after what had happened in Peoria, he always felt that unexpected panic when someone he worked with might find out about it.

Of course, this wasn't an unexpected meeting at a compromising moment, an overheard phone conversation, or a surprise visit to the office by an obviously less-than-straight "friend." No, this was somehow even more uncomfortable.

Gibbs was gay? The thought blew Tony's mind. Maybe Gibbs didn't have three ex-wives just because he was an emotional eunuch and functional mute. That thought sent a shiver down Tony's spine, leaving warmth pooling in parts that shouldn't be warm for his ex-Marine boss.

In this sudden moment of panic, Tony considered just leaving, or heading back to the dance floor until Gibbs left, but only briefly. That was his favorite leather jacket, hanging off the barstool, one that he had had since college. It was real Italian leather, bought in Italy during a summer abroad, and looked damn good on him. He wasn't going to leave it, even to head upstairs.

And Gibbs wasn't here to out him. Gibbs didn't even know about him. If Gibbs was here, maybe Gibbs was looking for the same thing Tony was. That had true possibilities. Except, of course, for that pesky Rule #12. Remembering that rule was like a cold bucket of water. It also made it much easier to nonchalantly walk back to his stool and sit down again.

Gibbs didn't even look over at him, just simply said, "Hey, Tony."

Tony, not DiNozzo. And Gibbs obviously knew whom he was sitting next to when he chose the seat.

"Gibbs," Tony answered, picking up his beer and swallowing the rest down. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Could say the same about you," Gibbs said as he sipped an amber-colored tumbler. "Even drunk I'd remember if I had seen you here before."

The implication of the words sunk in. Gibbs was admitting to being here before—often enough to say with certainty that Tony hadn't been.

"I've been here a couple times," Tony drank. "Thought I'd hang out a bit and see what turns up. You?"

Gibbs smiled one of his slight, half-smirk smiles of true amusement. "Maybe I want to unwind after a bad case."

Holy shit. But maybe Gibbs's version of unwinding had less sex involved than Tony's own. "I thought unwinding for you involved a sanding block and a half-built boat," Tony tried for humor, unsure how else to respond.

"More than one way to unwind," Gibbs noted dryly, sipping his drink and leaving Tony confounded again.

Electing to order another beer instead of answering, Tony put a twenty on the bar. "One for him, too."

"Trying to get me drunk?" Gibbs gave the shy sorta smile again, testing Tony's composure.

Turning to face Gibbs, Tony decided to man up and take the chance. What was the worst that could happen? He could always jokingly play it off, if Gibbs rejected his advance. He highly doubted that he was misreading the situation that badly, anyway, that he would be that far off his mark; this wasn't his first time to the prom, after all. Dropping his voice down into the husky range, Tony raised an eyebrow. "Do I really have to, to get what I want?"

Raising an eyebrow back, Gibbs answered, "Depends on what you want, Tony."

Dammit, the man held his cards close to the chest. "I wanna forget every last damn thing I saw this past week. And I don't want to be alone tonight."

That earned him a full-on smile and throaty chuckle. Gibbs threw back the remainder of his drink, waved off the bartender, and then rose from his chair. Wrapping his hand around the back of Tony's neck, Gibbs gave it a squeeze before leaning over to speak into Tony's ear. "You don't have to get me drunk for that." A gruff kiss was brushed against Tony's cheek, stunning Tony into silence, before Gibbs made his way out of the bar, holding the door open as he waited for Tony to catch up.