halloween_tibbs | 2015 Halloween Fic :)

Just Remember to S.I.N.G.
Summary: Tony and Gibbs are in the bullpen on Halloween night when the lights go out and all hell breaks loose.
Rating: Teen
On AO3: HERE
Or read it under the cut!

It was a dark and stormy night.

But that didn’t matter, because Tony was stuck in the Big Orange Room. On Halloween. Without candy.

He looked over at Gibbs’ desk, and took a moment to appreciate that at least there was some eye candy.

Gibbs’ sixth sense must have kicked in, because he looked up at Tony a second later, and Tony ducked his head down.

“Almost done, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, and Tony slapped another file into the “completed” pile on his desk and grunted in frustration.

“Taking a page from my book?” Gibbs asked again, as he looked around the almost-empty squad room.

“Pardon?” Tony asked, quickly meeting Gibbs' eyes once more.

“You grunted,” Gibbs observed in amusement, and Tony watched as the corner of the man’s lip twitched upwards slightly.

“Must be rubbing off on me, Boss,” Tony noted absent-mindedly, as he signed off on another report and shoved the file into the “completed” pile. Then he froze and turned bright red in the space of one second.

He was the king of double entendres, but he’d kept his smart mouth far away from Gibbs out of pure necessity and a keen sense of self-preservation. He darted his eyes across towards Gibbs’ desk again, making sure not to move his head in case his boss noticed the sudden movement, but Gibbs was still looking at him. And his expression had changed, morphing into something akin to open curiosity.

“Sorry, bo-” Tony began, but his words cut off as the lights suddenly flickered out and the Big Orange Room was plunged into darkness. He dimly registered the ding of the elevator doors opening as he rose from his desk, and then he froze once again. In the dim light coming through the rain-swept windows, he could barely make out three machete-wielding figures with hockey masks over their faces as they stepped out and into the room.

His instinct to scream like a girl, or at least as loudly as a girl, was squashed only by the hand that suddenly clamped down over his mouth from behind, and he began to fight as he found himself being dragged backwards by an unknown assailant. He was off his feet, off balance, but he was a trained special agent ex-cop who had watched Miss Congeniality more times than he would ever admit.

Getting at the guy’s in-step was out, but the solar-plexus, nose, and groin were all fair game. He elbowed back at the assailant’s stomach, and then sent his other elbow back over his shoulder and into the guy’s face. He knew it was a guy – there was no way a girl would be able to man-handle his bulky frame so easily – and that made the last step that much sweeter. His assailant let out several gritted expletives as Tony’s arm moved back down from over his shoulder and swung a decently well-aimed – all things considered – backwards elbow-punch straight into the guy’s junk.

He briefly wondered where Gibbs was in all this, and if he was okay, as the assailant loosened his grip with a muffled grunt and Tony got the upper hand. He flipped over, using his weight to push the other person to the floor, and straddled him and had him cuffed in all of three seconds. Curses rang out beneath him as the lights flicked back on again, and Tony looked on in horror as he saw that he was wedged behind the divider next to Tim’s desk and straddling his boss, who he had just beaten up in the way of every man’s worst nightmare.

A soft, despondent moan of “Jethro” left his lips as howls of laughter rang out from behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder and watched as the three figures came around next to Bishop’s desk and stood there, posed with hands on hips and looking as proud of themselves as one can while wearing an inanimate mask. The laughter died quickly, however, when they caught sight of the two men on the floor, one barely moving and Tony still looking on in horror at everything.

The tallest two figures slipped off their masks slowly, and Tony’s eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he threatened under his breath, and he turned back to Gibbs and quickly freed his hands from the cuffs before standing up and stalking over to the trio.

“What the hell?!” He demanded, furious for a hundred different reasons. “What kind of a stupid Halloween prank is that, killing the lights and pretending to be murderers in the NCIS building. You want to get fired?” He could feel his blood boiling in his veins, and his stomach churned as he watched the third person slowly pull her mask off. Bishop didn’t meet his eyes, and he was glad for it because he didn’t think he could face her right now.

In fact, he didn’t think he could face any of them. Didn’t want to. Didn’t give one single shit apart from the fact that Gibbs had been trying to protect him from the trio, pulling him away and trying to hide the two of them, and Tony had probably done some permanent damage to his face, torso, and genitals as thanks for all that.

He turned away and walked back over to Gibbs, who had managed to push himself up to sitting and was nursing a bloody nose. Tony pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket in his suit jacket and offered it to Gibbs.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” he whispered, as he helped the man to his feet and led him towards the first aid room without a backward glance. Gibbs hobbled along as best he could next to him, as Tony supported him as best he could. A minute later, they pushed through the door to the small room and Tony eased Gibbs down into a chair.

“Just grab me a coldpack, Tony,” Gibbs murmured from behind the piece of cloth around his mouth and nose. “My nose got the worst of it. My pride will recover.”

“You were trying to protect me,” Tony mused softly as he turned away to rifle through the big red First Aid kit that was sitting on a shelf. “I don’t know how I can thank you.” He turned back to Gibbs, ice pack in hand. “And I am so sorry about hurting your, er, pride, Boss.”

He felt himself blushing again, remembering the hard hit he’d delivered to Gibbs’ nether regions.

He watched in surprise as Gibbs raised an eyebrow above the coldpack, the action undoubtedly alluding to something but Tony had no idea what. And so he found himself standing there, not really knowing what more to do and wondering how to get away from the topic of Gibbs’ genitals.

Finally, Gibbs spoke up.

“You’re gonna drive me home.” And it was definitely a statement, not a request.

“Yes, boss,” Tony answered immediately, pleased to have something to do and some direction to move in other than south. “I’ll grab my keys.”

“And you’re gonna stay, so grab your Go Bag,” Gibbs continued, and there was that raised eyebrow again and that look of curiosity in Gibbs eyes that, for some reason, made Tony’s stomach flip-flop.

“S-s-sure,” he stuttered, as he made to exit the room. But then he remembered the three amigos who were undoubtedly still out there, wanting to apologize, and he knew that one stern look from Gibbs would put them off until tomorrow or the next day, or whenever Gibbs’ nose and pride felt better. It would definitely be better if Gibbs was with him.

He contemplated the fact that staying longer in a room with Gibbs, which involved them man giving him oddly intriguing looks and discussion of said man’s privates, was less scary than the alternative of leaving and having to deal with his moronic co-workers.

“So are you leaving?” Gibbs suddenly spoke out, catching Tony in his musings by the door, “or are you gonna stay here and kiss it all better or what?”

Tony’s eyes shifted to meet Gibbs’ clear blue ones.

And he stepped away from the door.