Today did not go at all like I wanted it to.  I had this plan.  It was simple, straightforward. I should know better.  I really should. Nothing ever goes exactly according to plan.

Tony was gone all weekend.  So this morning was going to be the first time I got to see him in almost two days.  Figured, I'd bark out something…didn't really matter what, I just had to act pissed enough to keep anyone from asking questions.  Once I got Tony to follow me to somewhere sufficiently secluded and private, I planned to steal a kiss or three.  Simple.  Piece of cake, right?  Wrong.

I get off the elevator, and there is Ziva David with orders to report to me in her hand.  Jesus Christ on a crutch.  I thought I'd seen her for the last time when I helped her get Ari Haswari's body on a plane bound for Israel.  

Would a little advance warning have been too much to ask?  Evidently, Jen is really upping the ante.  I knew she had someone in mind, I just didn't think it was Ziva.  

While I have no doubt Ziva is talented, smart and capable of being a good agent, she's got no training as a detective.  My team investigates crimes; we don't plan assassinations or overthrow governments.  What the hell am I supposed to do with a spy?  Shit.  

Train her, Jen says.  Yeah, okay.  And since she's Jen's little protégé, that should be a walk in the park, right?  Snort.  Riiiight.  Jen was a damn good field agent, but she never really understood what it took to make her one.  There is a lot more to it than just learning my rules.  Hell, Tony still doesn't know half of them, and he's a better agent than Jen ever was.

I have no illusions where Jen thinks David's loyalty should be.  But I know Jen doesn't know Ziva killed Ari.  Ziva owes Jen less than she owes me at the moment.  That is the only reason I didn't kick harder to get rid of her.  If I need to, I can have her gone with just a phone call.  She knows it.  I know it.  Only one who doesn't is Jen.  Thinking it should stay that way for a bit.  No reason to show all my cards just yet.

Of course, now that I've got Ziva, I have to deal with her.  I don't get to steal a kiss, or do anything more than trade a look or two with Tony.  And that makes me even more irritable.  'Cranky' Abby would say.  Unfortunately, being pissed makes me thoughtless with people I care about.  I really need to work on that.

I knew Tony knew a lot about the Civil War.  Two months after he started working for me we'd caught a case near Antietam.  The body was found on the battlefield grounds by one of the park guides.  Tony had flirted with her shamelessly.  I found it annoying, but since he was so effective putting her at ease enough to give us far more information than we'd have gotten otherwise, I didn't call him on it.  

They'd discussed the battlefield at length.  And I admit I was impressed by how much he knew.  Dates, generals, maneuvers; Tony knew it as well as she did if not better.  

"Big Civil War fan, DiNozzo?"  I asked him later in the car, keeping my tone just shy of being outright insulting.  I wanted him to know I was not happy with the time he'd wasted talking to her.

"I hate the Civil War."  Tony stated firmly, green eyes turned away from me, looking out the window at passing scenery.  

"Sure seem to know a lot about it."  I opted for casual that time, curious but unwilling to ask outright.

"More than I'd like to."  

Tony didn't say any more.  That in itself was unusual enough at the time for me make a note of it.  Even that early in our working relationship, I knew he was something of a storyteller, so I expected him to brag or expound on how he'd come to know so much.  The silence piqued my curiosity even more, but I got sidetracked by the case and never got around to asking.

His knowledge of the Civil War came in handy again eighteen months later.  We were recruited to help the FBI track down some artifacts stolen from the Naval Military History Museum in Annapolis.  I still don't know how Tony knew a replica rifle from the real thing, but that knowledge made his cover as an avid collector of Civil War Era weaponry very authentic.  

The case was solved in record time.  Almost as though Tony couldn't be done with it fast enough.  There is a commendation in his file for it from the director, but he never talks about that one.  Ever.  

This case, with a fresh body in a sealed coffin from the Civil War, brought those incidents to mind.  I still don't know why I told Tony about the case the way I did.  Thinking about it, I suspect I did it because I was pissed at him for being away this weekend.  Pissed that the Director sprung Ziva on me.  Pissed that Tony seemed insecure again over his place on the team.  Why the hell he would think anyone could take his place is a mystery.

Even though I didn't have the specifics, I knew something about the Civil War was a sore spot for him, and I knew I could hurt him with it.  The words weren't hurtful…no, not exactly, but the tone was.  I can be sarcastic, sharp and dismissive with the best of them.  Goddamn, but I really am a bastard.  

I knew bringing it up at all was a mistake. I saw him wince, smile fading even as his expression closed off.  But by then it was too late.  

It wasn't until later I had some inkling of why it bothered him.  I should have known.  It's only his family that generates that kind of response.  

One hard look from me was all it took to put an end to McGee or Ziva even considering bringing up Tony's 'poo boy' comment.  I wasn't going to let them tease him about that.  

Not letting them say anything to him wasn't just about keeping them from being mean or petty.  I know Tony can take their teasing.  McGee isn't usually the type to be cruel and Ziva isn't secure enough in her position on the team that she'll go too far just yet.  Besides, Tony usually gives as good as he gets.  

No, my shutting them up wasn't just about keeping them in line.  It was more about how in the four years he's worked for me, this is the first time I can remember him volunteering anything about his family.  Everything I know about his family I got from his file, his supervisors or the digging I did on my own, not from him.  If they started in on him about it, even just lightheartedly, he'd never say anything else.  And I didn't want him to shut down about his family.  

I don't believe in all that therapy crap, but I can see where for a guy like Tony talking about things is really the first step.  And maybe if he keeps talking, little by little he'll tell me about the stuff I already know.  Snow balls chance in hell there, but I'm not so cynical as to have no hope at all or think even I might never catch a lucky break.

I sigh silently and shake my head.  I think I owe him an apology.  Just not quite sure how to offer it, or even how much to confess to when I do.  

I wasn't any worse than usual today.  Which is small consolation.  I'm brusque and mean on a good day.  But usually I'm saying or doing things to get him to focus, not to deliberately hurt him.  Thinking about it, I realize there is one hell of a fine line there.  Just because I can see the difference, doesn't mean Tony can.     

What really bothers me about the whole thing is that Tony will probably forgive me whether I say I'm sorry or not.  Hell, he probably doesn't even think I did anything wrong.  The only time he's ever found fault with me that I know of was how I handled Ari.  If he ever has before, he's never said anything.  Jesus, what did I do to deserve that much faith and loyalty?  

I wish Tony had gotten home before me.  Then I wouldn't be thinking about this shit.  Could just shove it all in that mental closet full of crap I don't think about and forget it.  

I check the clock.  He said something about going running after work.  That usually takes him about an hour; longer if he's upset about something because he'll tack on a few extra miles.  I'm guessing it will be longer.

I need to make something for dinner.  Or order in. Something.  If I can't say I'm sorry, I can at least show him.  Words, I'm not good at.  But action, I can handle.

First things first, I check the freezer.  His favorite ice cream?  Check.  Wasn't like I had any real doubts.  We were a couple for a week when I started making sure I had plenty of ice cream in my freezer.

Opening the fridge, I'm suddenly aware that I don't pay as much attention to what is in it as I do with the freezer.  There is nothing in it that gives me any ideas for dinner.  Okay.  Plan B.  Order in.  

Pizza.  Not my favorite, but definitely one of Tony's.  So an order of extra cheese, sausage and pepperoni.  

I reach for the phone, and then hesitate.  I don't know how long it will be before Tony arrives.  Pizza will only take about half an hour or so to get here.  Shrugging, I make the order.  Tony will eat it hot or cold.  He doesn't seem to really care.  

That done, I head into the living room.  I eyeball the stack of DVD's he's got piled near the TV.  Over the past few months, Tony has exchanged a few here or there so I never know for sure just what I'll find in the stack.  I run my fingers down the sides as I read the titles.  Most are geared toward my taste, which means the majority are action films.  There are a few older black and white ones that showed up after I confessed to liking Casablanca.  

Tony wouldn't own them if he didn't like them, but tonight I want to pick a movie with him in mind.  I raise my eyebrows when I spot 'The Court Jester'.  I hate musicals.  But I vaguely remember that one.  Danny Kaye was a pretty good actor…for a guy who did a lot of singing and dancing.  So what the hell? We'll watch that.  I set it on the coffee table for later.

I hear the door open and wait for Tony's greeting.  "Hi, honey, I'm home."

Still makes me smile.  "I'm in the living room."

"Hey."  He grins when he sees me.  He gives me a quick kiss.

Hunh.  Not letting him get away with that.  No quick peck.  Hell no.  I want, no I need more than that.  

I cup his face so he can't pull back.  Then I take my time and ravish that sweet mouth.  God, I'd forgotten how good he tastes.  Forgot how hot and wet his tongue is.  

I only pull away when I can't ignore the need to breathe any longer.  I'm dizzy and panting.  It's gratifying to hear him gasping a bit for breath too.  I rest my forehead against his.  

With my eyes closed I can smell the tantalizing fragrance of him.  It's missing some of the usual components.  No aftershave or styling products; just his soap, shampoo and something that is uniquely Tony.  I love that scent.  

"I'm making a wild guess here, but I think you missed me."  

Beneath the cocky confidence and good humor in that statement I can hear an undertone requesting reassurance that he's right.  For once, I don't hesitate to offer what he needs.  "Yes, I did."  I open my eyes and kiss him again gently, chastely this time.  "Very much."

Recently, I've started to classify his smiles.  The one he gives me is one I don't see often.  It's soft, warm, almost shy and reserved almost exclusively for me.  I wish I could make him smile like that more.  

"Missed you too."  Tony pulls me into a hug as warm as his smile.  

I love having him wrapped around me, the feel of the hard planes of his chest against mine, the sense of completeness that it always engenders.  I lean into him, relaxing when he rests his head on my shoulder and sighs.  It is still a novel experience to be comforted this way rather than the comforter.  

I nuzzle his neck, placing a kiss on the soft spot just beneath his ear.  I'd mark him there if I thought I could get away with it.  It's not a place that he can hide easily.  I've developed a real appreciation for his collection of turtlenecks.  They give me liberty to still mark him as mine if not always where I'd like to.

This close to him, I can hear a faint wheeze in his breathing.  "How far did you run?"  I ask quietly.

"Just eight miles."

I resist the urge to snort.  'Just'.  That explains the wheeze.  Whenever he pushes himself too hard it shows up.  It's proof he's still not one hundred percent after his exposure to the plague.  He was wheezing a bit earlier today when we ran down our suspect.  That is probably the only reason I got to the guy before Tony did.  

Dr. Pitt said it might take up to a year before the wheeze went away; if it ever did.  It wasn't enough to restrict Tony's field duties, or warrant some sort of inhaler like a severe asthmatic might need.  Pitt said it was a good thing Tony didn't have any allergies.  Those would likely exacerbate the problem.

Eight miles is three miles more than Tony usually does. Tells me something about his state of mind.  I pull back to make eye contact.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah.  Everything is fine."  

I know he's telling the truth when his eyes are clear and hold mine easily. I nod, accepting that even though I want to push him for more.  I want to know more about his childhood, to hear specifics from him, to know the details that made him tack on three extra miles.  I want to find a way to help him deal with it that doesn't involve him doing things that seem as some sort of self-inflicted punishment.  

It might work as a therapy of sorts.  Same as the boat does for me.  But I wish he'd find another way to exorcise his demons.

His stomach rumbles and Tony gives me an apologetic, rueful look.  "Sorry, Boss.'

I roll my eyes.  "Dinner should be here in about," I'm interrupted by a knock at the door, "now."  

Tony grins.  "Good timing."  He bounds over to the door.  

It was supposed to be my treat, but I let him pay for it.  Short of wrestling him to the floor, I couldn't beat him to the door anyway.  I'll treat him another time.  

He comes back, holding the pizza box, grinning.  "You got my favorite."

"Of course."  It still amazes me how little it takes to make him happy.  "You want something to drink?"

"Water's fine."  

"Put in the movie," I point to the coffee table before I head for the kitchen.  "I'll be right back."  I grab a beer for me and a bottle of water for him.  

Tony gives me a quizzical look when I come back.  "What?"

"The Court Jester?"

"You brought it over." Jesus, I hope I don't sound as defensive to him as I do to myself.

"Yeah."  Tony arches an eyebrow.  "But I sort of figured I'd be watching it alone some night while you worked on the boat."  He frowns.  "Are you not going to watch-"

"I'm watching the movie."  I really am a bastard; one more thing to add to the reason why the name fits so well.  

I offer him the bottle of water.  "You said it was a classic.  Thinking it's something I should see then."

"It is."  Tony laughs softly, green eyes bright with pleasure.  "1956. Danny Kaye, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone, Angela Lansbury.  Man, she had a great figure then."

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from commenting.  Tony has always had an appreciation for the female form, and beauty in general.  And something about actresses from a bygone era really appeal to him.  He thinks Gene Tierney was a goddess.  Who am I to argue, even if I do think it's weird she spelled her name like a guy.

We settle in on the couch as Tony cues up the DVD and starts the movie.  I resign myself to at least pretending to enjoy it.  I'm surprised as hell to find myself laughing right along with Tony.  Hell, I even joy the stupid songs and find myself trying to say the tongue twisting rhyme for the 'brew that is true'.  

Tony, naturally, has no trouble reciting the whole thing while I find myself nearly stuttering like Danny Kaye.  Tony laughs so hard at my efforts he's practically crying.  I'm enjoying the sight of him flushed and happy too much to really be angry about it.

God, he is so beautiful.  And suddenly I don't care about the movie any more.  I force him back into the couch, straddling his hips, sitting in his lap as I cup his face and ravage his mouth.   I swallow his moans, enjoying the way he responds to me, humor morphing seamlessly into passion.

His hands are busy pulling at my shirt.  I reluctantly release my hold on him long enough to let him tug my shirt off over my head.  I'm glad he's wearing a button down.  I undo each button, placing a soft kiss on each bit of tantalizing flesh revealed.  I love the breathy little sounds he's making in response to my touch.

I am making some sounds of my own when his hands find their way to my chest. The light touch he uses, fingertips ghosting over my skin, makes me shiver.  He smiles up at me shyly before moving to lave my right nipple.  I bury my hands in his silky soft hair, holding him firmly in place.  I hiss softly when he nips me, my back arching in response.  I like it when he uses his teeth.

He resists my hold just enough to move to my left nipple.  I moan when he sucks and nips hard enough to leave a mark.  I love wearing his mark.  If I own him, I want him to own me too.  

I force him back, and nuzzle his neck.  I leave a mark of my own where I know any of his shirts will cover it.  I get one of those purring sighs for my trouble.  

My pants are uncomfortably tight.  I shift trying to ease the pressure, and gasp when Tony moves his hips, brushing his groin against mine.  I can't help rocking against him, enjoying the friction.  It's not enough, but it feels too good to stop.

Tony moves and I follow him, unwilling to lose contact.  Somehow we end up flat on the couch, and I decide this is much better.  Full body contact is never a bad thing.  The feel of his skin against mine is just…lord I don't have any words for how damn good it feels.

I kiss him again.  Can feel his hands burrowing between us, and he breaks the kiss.  I know he wants this as much as I do, so I resist when he tries to create space between us.  

"Too many…clothes."  His breath is warm against my skin; his voice rough and needy.  "Need just a little….room, Jethro."

Right.  Clothes.  Definitely better with those out of the way.  I groan when he wiggles against me.  I grin when he groans too as I shimmy out of my pants making sure to rub against him as much as possible as I do it.  

"Bastard."  It isn't an insult or a curse when he says it like that.

I grin savagely at him.  "You knew that before we started this."

"Reason I agreed to it."  He grins back at me.

We are now blessedly naked.  I can't believe how warm he is.  I'd missed his heat the last two days, missed being next to him.  I missed everything; the sight, the sound, the smell of him.  God.  I want to imprint him on my soul.  Hell maybe I already have.  

I am touching and kissing every bit of him I can reach, desperate for more.  He's whispering things that sound like encouragement.  I have no idea what he's really saying, but I kind of like it when he slips into Italian.  

I hadn't really planned on us humping against each other like a couple of horny teenagers.  Had sort of expected to at least get to the bedroom, take our time and do it right.  Although, everything feels way too good to be really wrong at the moment, and I'm not sure I could stop even if I wanted to.  From the sounds Tony's making, he doesn't want to stop either.  

He's got one leg wrapped around me, rubbing against my ass in a rhythm that matches the movement of our hips.  I am not sure what the hell he's doing with his hands, but his touch alone is enough to have me whimpering and begging for more.  I hiss when he bites my shoulder and then licks away that momentary flash of pain.  He does it again, hips rocking against mine, both of us breathing hard.  

I can feel him trembling and I know he's close.  So am I.  My whole body tingles for a moment as I thrust against him, muscles clenching so tightly I can almost feel my bones flex under the strain.  I come so hard I'm seeing stars.  I'm only vaguely aware of him arching against me, and calling my name as he comes too.

I'm not really sure how long it is before I make it back to myself. First thing I'm aware of is that I'm lying on Tony, my ear over his heart.  I listen for an endless moment.  That strong, steady beat is decidedly reassuring.  Now I understand why he likes to lay on me this way sometimes.

He rubs one hand down my spine repeatedly, kind of like he's petting me.  I sigh, enjoying his touch.  None of my wives or girlfriends have ever touched me like he does.  Thinking he's got magic fingers.  I feel him place a kiss in my hair.

"You with me again?"

"Think so."

I can feel his chuckle as well as hear it.  "Don't sound too sure."

I raise my head to look at him.  "I'm here."

He smiles.  I've labeled that one his 'happy for no reason' smile.  It's nice.  

"You up for round two?"  He waggles his eyebrows at me.

I can't help but laugh.  "Only if round two involves the shower."  The cooling mess between us is going to become uncomfortable before too long.

"A shower?"  Tony adopts an overly thoughtful expression.  "I think I can live with that."  

"You think?" I snicker.  I give him a quick kiss before levering myself up.  I offer him a hand to help him.

His eyes move over me in a blatantly appreciative way, and I try not to blush.  I'm a grown man for crying out loud.  Having him look at me like that shouldn't make me blush like a school girl.

He takes my hand and rises gracefully to his feet.  Find myself wondering if he's ever taken dance lessons.  Had to have at some point.

I pull him into another hug because I already miss being close to him.  No doubt about it, I have got it bad.  He places a kiss on the pulse point of my neck and murmurs something that sounds a bit like, 'me too'.  Guess I said that bit out loud.  Should probably say it more often.

Tony pulls away and I reluctantly let go.  He offers me a hand.  I find myself taking it, and following him to the bathroom.

Things didn't go quite the way I planned. At least this once, that isn't all bad.  Nope.  Not bad at all.

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