Title: Sleepwalker

Author: tarotgal
Fandom: NCIS in the BDSM Universe

Rating: PG to R (no sex, but the freely-discussed subject matter and a few words here and there might call for a higher rating)
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended.  I do not own NCIS or its characters. I wish I were CBS and made money from this, but I am not and I definitely don’t. And Xanthe came up with this particular spin on the existing universe.
Warnings: Please read the descriptions below! PLEASE!
Summary: Tony comes down with a cold just as the NCIS team gets a new case.

Introduction to the universe--
A wonderful fanfic writer, Xanthe, developed this BDSM universe and granted me permission to play here. You might be interested in reading The First Collar and/or Hiding in Plain Sight to understand more about this world and its NCIS characters. Either way, you should read this intro in order to understand the fic.

 

This story is set during season 1 of the show, and therefore follows the general plotlines therein, though the details might be off in order to fit the story. Tony has had a thing for his boss ever since meeting him at his job interview, but Gibbs made it perfectly clear that neither love nor sex would be part of their relationship, and Tony agreed to that when taking Gibbs' collar. At this point in the universe, Ducky, Abby, and Tony all wear collars Gibbs offered them, though Gibbs’ position as a top is a rather unique one. A collar from Gibbs means things like protection, safety, and leadership. He does not desire a physical or sexual relationship from his subs, but he does require obedience and for them to follow his rules. Naturally BDSM AU!Gibbs has rules!

Xanthe’s description--
The premise of this universe is that everyone is bisexual and BDSM relationships are the norm - there is genetic hardwiring for both bisexuality and BDSM. Most people identify as either dominant or submissive and this is their choice. They usually discover their orientation at puberty and most experiment to be sure. Some know their orientation much younger, but this is unusual. There is no
value judgment in being either one - dominants aren't superior to submissives and both can hold positions of power in society. Switches exist but are much rarer.

When couples get serious about each other, the dominant might ask if they can collar the submissive, and the couple might start eating from the same plate - a significant ritual in this universe called 'sharing a plate'. When they get married, the top receives a gift of a marriage belt, and that is why marriage is sometimes referred to colloquially as 'buckling the belt'.

Some people like bondage, others like pain play, or are into power play, and some have an appetite for more extreme thrills. These nuances are referred to as a person's 'dynamic'. It is common for a
top courting a sub to place their hand around the sub's wrist and get a feel for whether their dynamics fit. A sub who enjoys pain play, for example, wouldn't fit so well with a top whose main focus is bondage and vice versa.

Some people don't identify as dominant or submissive, and they are called 'non-dynamic'. Some people aren't bisexual, and they are called 'monosexual'. People talk about sex much more easily in this universe than in our own, are comfortable with public nudity, and have a different set of sexual standards.

Corporal punishment is used in the workplace, and is a significant part of the legal system. Tops are subject to the same judicial and workplace rules as subs and can be punished in the same way. Subs can hand out punishments too. Being a sub or top does not have any impact on your ability to do your job, or how you handle yourself in your everyday life, any more than our own sexual preferences do. If a collared sub gets into trouble then his or her top can volunteer to take the punishment on their behalf.

Things to bear in mind about this universe:
It's a fantasy. I'm not making a case for such a universe being better or worse than our own. I'm not even saying this is what a BDSM/bisexual universe would be like if such a thing existed. This is just the way I wanted to write this universe.

These stories are primarily intended to be romantic and escapist in tone. The entire universe is, and is intended to be, a fantasy, requiring a willing suspension of disbelief.

In the interests of story flow and accessibility I don't concentrate a great deal on instruction into the finer points of lifestyle BDSM or differentiate between different styles of BDSM particularly. These stories are not a how-to guide. If you want to understand more about lifestyle BDSM, please do your own research at sites like www.bondage.com.

The people in this universe have been shaped by a different kind of society, so while I keep them broadly in character, insofar as I see those characters, they are not the same as the characters we know from the shows. The universe is an AU.


This universe will not be to everyone's taste. It seems absolutely fine to me that some people won't like it - they should therefore not read these stories. I'm really just having a lot of fun with this universe and hope people read the stories in that spirit.

 

 

Part 1

 

“h’Shfff!” Tony directed the sneeze into the crook of his arm. His head pounded from the effort of half-restraining it, but minimizing the sound was worth it. If anyone—and by ‘anyone’ he meant Gibbs—found out he was a little under the weather, he would be berated and sent home at once.

 

Tony lowered himself into the chair behind his desk with great care. For some reason Tony didn’t know, Gibbs had seen fit to administer more than a handful of swats with the strap earlier that morning. And, for some reason Tony did know, he was feeling more sensitive today. Undeniably, Tony was sick. He had gone to bed with a splitting headache and had woken up with an even worse one. His throat felt raw and torturous when he spoke or swallowed or even breathed. And good luck trying to breathe through his nose; that was stuffed beyond belief. At least he could relax a little now that he was at his desk.

 

He ran his hand through his hair, rubbed it under his nose, and then let his fingertips brush against his collar. He only ever took it off in the shower, but its presence around his neck was just the sort of reassurance he craved. He could feel his muscles relaxing and shoulders sagging. With any luck he could take it easy the whole day, nurse this cold, and feel better when he woke up tomorrow.

 

“What is that?”

 

Tony looked up to see Kate staring not at him but at his Styrofoam cup with its paper tag hanging out on a string, as if she had never seen anything like it before. He tried to think of some witty line. Something about her being so old as to not recognize the invention of Styrofoam. Or maybe something from a movie involving cups or drinks. But his mind was blank and, even worse, he didn’t feel like being witty. “It’s just tea,” he told her. He pulled the dripping, soggy bag from the cup and deposited it in the trashcan.  

 

Her eyebrows rose. “You’re drinking tea? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

 

He couldn’t help but feel a little annoyance at that. Here he was, feeling ill and miserable and trying to drink his tea and there she was getting all toppy on him, as if she were his top, as if she knew what was best for him. She didn’t have any say at all about what he drank.

 

“I mean, Rule 23 alone…”

 

There was a tickle scratching at Tony’s throat. He desperately needed to clear his throat, but he didn’t want it to come across to her as some sign of submissiveness. The last thing she needed was to think she was getting to him. “This has nothing to do with the rules. I just wanted to try something new. I’m not touching Gibbs’ coffee.”

 

“You’d better not be.”

 

Tony froze for a second, and then he spun in his chair and found himself face-to-face with Gibbs’ chest. Gibbs always seemed to turn up precisely when Tony was talking about him. It was like he had some sort of radar or ESP or… like there was something in their bond that drew Gibbs close. Tony wished it were the latter, but he also knew Gibbs just had really good timing.

 

Gibbs strode across the room to his desk and picked up the Styrofoam cup, which was completely devoid of teabags. He sniffed it suspiciously and cast a glance over at Tony. After testing it with a sip, he nodded in approval and Tony felt a little, excited jolt in his belly at that. “All right,” Gibbs announced, and Tony knew that had nothing to do with the coffee. “We’ve got a murder and a sailor who just turned up in Vienna with no idea who he is. Let’s go.”

 

Tony reached for his backpack as Gibbs reached for the leashes.

 

Tony liked arriving on the scene of a crime on the end of Gibbs’ leash. Gibbs was such a powerful, imposing-looking top that that energy radiating from him immediately let everyone nearby know who was in charge. Being on Gibbs’ leash established him as part of Gibbs’ team, and anyone would have been crazy not to corporate with Gibbs or his subs. But, really, Tony just loved the feeling of being connected to Gibbs as Gibbs stood there, surveying the scene while everyone on the scene surveyed him. Tony beamed with pride at the looks on the faces of the jealous ones.

 

The body that had turned up on the side of the road was dirty, scraped, and mangled. And the naval officer—easy enough to identify because he wore a uniform—sitting not feet from it looked almost the same, with the exception of a blanket around his shoulders that the cops must have given him. The man was shivering a little and Tony’s sick body easily gave a violent shiver in sympathy. Looking beyond the cuts and scratches and streaks of dirt, Tony could tell the sailor was handsome—those blue eyes were striking but lost. If anyone could help find him, it would be NCIS.

 

The strangest thing about the sailor, however, was that Tony couldn’t sense his dynamic at all. Usually whenever Tony met someone, he could tell right away if the person was a top or a sub; Tony just got this feeling about it in his gut, and he knew Gibbs felt the same thing, so Tony kept glancing at Gibbs for clues. He didn’t give any, though. Could it be that Gibbs didn’t know either? Gibbs bent over the man and used his most commanding tone of voice. “Name and rank.”

 

For any soldier, the answer would have been instinctual, like a knee-jerk reaction. But the man looked up at Gibbs blankly and shook his head. “I can’t remember. Can’t remember anything about myself or anything before I woke up here and people were standing around me calling the police.”

 

Still nothing. No indication. No hint. The man didn’t wear a collar, but that didn’t mean much. He might have been a top but he could also have been an uncollared sub. For that matter, he could have been a switch or perhaps the collar had been removed by whoever had done something to him to make him lose his memory.

 

“I don’t think I did this. I don’t remember doing it. I… don’t remember anything.” His voice broke and vulnerability poured out of him. Even Tony picked up on it; he bet everyone could sense it.

 

“We’ll figure this out,” Gibbs promised him, using that comforting, in-control top voice that made Tony go weak, especially now when Tony wanted nothing more than for Gibbs to look after him. Tony tried not to feel jealous; this was a case, nothing more. It was Gibbs’ job that was controlling him, not entirely his dynamic, even though he did have a thing for saving people. Gibbs straightened and turned to his two agents. “DiNozzo, get some photos of him and the body before Ducky arrives. Then the two of you should start your inquiries.”

 

Naturally, it was impossible to do a thorough job while on a leash, but sometimes Tony hated the little click the clip made when Gibbs detached the leash from his collar. He loved Gibbs’ warm fingers so close to his collar and so close to his throat. Today, especially, he wished the man would reach out and touch him, as if the mere touch of his top would make his throat feel better. Instead, Gibbs just unclipped and gave him some command about what parts of the dead body to get close-ups of.

 

Tony got the photos as requested, finishing up just before Ducky arrived on the scene. “Poor Sub,” Tony whispered. He stood up, hovering over the dead body, as Ducky squatted down.

 

“A sub? How can you tell? This man isn’t collared.” There weren’t even marks around his neck.

 

“Check out his wrists. No cuffs or manacles did that, and those marks aren’t forced or made from a one-time touch, either. The skin is smooth. This guy liked his tops to help him submit.” Tony shivered a shiver that has nothing at all to do with his cold. For one brief moment, he flashed back to when he and Gibbs had been trying to track down those tapes in Dana Morley’s place. He’d never be able to forget the way Gibbs had quieted him at first and then soothed him into submission instantly with one thumb stroking Tony’s wrist.

 

“What an astute observation, Anthony. You know, I might have missed that.”

 

“Doubt it,” Tony said, smiling. Ducky never missed a thing. Feeling the persistent need to sneeze intensify, Tony made himself scarce. Ducky was an expert with dead bodies, but he had enough medical expertise to diagnose a cold. And he had been as observant around Tony as Gibbs had been after the plague had almost claimed Tony. So Tony was careful to hold back any annoying coughs, sniffles, or sneezes when he was anywhere near Ducky.

 

He ended up ducking behind the van and burying his nose in the crook of his arm. “ihhFshhh! ehFshh!” Tony knew very well that he couldn’t stay there indefinitely, but he lingered a minute longer as the tickle in his nose built up to another overpowering sneeze. “huhCHIFffff!” He rubbed his nose into his sleeve and hoped the dark material hid the wet patch well enough.

 

Given that this was the Tysons Corner area on the tail end of morning rush hour, there was no shortage of people milling about. Tracking down someone who saw something would be worse than a needle in a haystack. Feeling a shiver and cough coming on, Tony stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and took off toward a likely group of people milling about.

 

He kept an eye on Gibbs the whole time, however. It was difficult to ignore his top when he was so nearby, and being even within sight of Gibbs gave him the strength he needed to do his job, even while he felt ill.

 

*

Part 2

 

“Tchhh!” Gibbs did not need to look up to know who it was. He could have picked Tony’s sneeze out of a sea of sneezes, if there were such a thing. He did look up, however, because he was worried about what that sneeze meant. Occasionally, strong scents or flowers got to Tony, not that he liked to admit that, but there was nothing of the sort nearby. Gibbs did, however, see Tony scrubbing at his nose with the cuff of his suit jacket sleeve. Was the man coming down with something? It was hard to tell from just one sneeze.

 

Gibbs resolved to keep a closer eye on Tony today. He had almost lost the man to the plague not long ago; he’d be damned if he lost Tony to a sniffle now.

 

Gibbs headed down to Abby’s lab. When he arrived, she was chatting to her computer monitor. Abby frequently spoke to her pieces of equipment, so much so that Gibbs had joked with her about getting collars for some of them. But this time, she was talking into what might have been a video camera, perched on top of the computer, and a window open on the screen contained the headshot of a young man. He couldn’t hear anything the man was saying back to her, because she had on headphones, but he could tell from the look and mannerisms that the man was a sub. Which was good for her, because chatting online with a top without his permission would definitely have earned her a lecture and maybe even a rare swat on her behind, and that was just for starters.

 

One of the alerts built into Abby’s machines went off, and she cut the chat short with a perky wave. She went to check the reading on the computer, and then she whirled around and gave a start to see Gibbs standing there, arms crossed over his chest. “Gibbs!” she exclaimed, catching her breath. “Where...? How did you know?”

 

He nodded toward the machine. “You got something for me Abs?”

 

“Actually, yes, I do.” She clicked around with her mouse and brought up two of the many photos Tony had taken at the crime scene earlier. The photo on the left was of the dead body, battered but wearing a green sweatshirt and jeans. The photo on the right was of their uniformed sailor with amnesia. “What you’ve got here is one civilian and one enlisted sailor.”

 

Trying not to show his frustration, Gibbs sighed softly. “Yeah, I knew that much.”

 

She grinned at him and clicked her mouse over the photo of the dead body. Up popped a new window with a spread of fingerprints and a military identification card. “Senior Chief Petty Officer Bruce Bradley.” She made a face. “Sort of an unfortunate name, don’t you think? Why would parents do that? Though I suppose it’s better than Brad Bradley. Can you imagine the teasing? I guess not a lot of names would go well with a last name that sounds like a first name, though.”

 

“Abby…” His tone was firm. He never, ever lost patience with her so quickly, but he was already wishing he could be back upstairs where he could watch Tony.

 

“The dead man’s the officer, Gibbs. And our John Doe’s prints didn’t turn up anywhere. There wasn’t a single match in any service record.” This was surprising to say the least. “Somehow, for some reason, he’s wearing a uniform that doesn’t belong to him. And, I might add, the uniform fits as though it were made for him.”

 

“Had yourself a look, did you?” he asked, wondering if he had to worry about her as well now.

 

“Couldn’t help but notice,” she admitted; it was impossible for Abby to lie to Gibbs. “But don’t worry. I’ll be good. Besides, I might already have someone interested in me.”

 

Twice in as many minutes, Abby had said something that surprised him. “That man you were chatting to just now?”

 

Her cheeks flushed slightly with excitement and embarrassment. “I know I should have told you, Gibbs, but we just got to talking. His name’s Tim and he works over at—”

 

“Don’t waste your time, Abby.”

 

She stopped rambling and cocked her head at him. “You don’t think we have the same dynamics?”

 

“Actually, I think you share something that’s very much the same. He’s a sub, too.”

 

“No!”

 

“Yup.”

 

“But you’ve never even met him!”

 

“Don’t need to.” He gestured to the screen, intending to completely change the subject and knowing that his sub would have no choice but to obey the change. “Run John Doe’s prints through the other databases—”

 

“Already doing it,” she said. “I’ll let you know if we get a hit, but so far it’s been zilch.”

 

*

Part 3

 

“hehTChuhhh! ehhhkTchuhhh!” Tony pulled another tissue out of the box in the drawer of his desk, gripped his nose through it, and blew. He didn’t want to, really, but it was either that or have his nose feeling all drippy and stuffy while he continued to make phone calls, and he couldn’t have that. Naturally, as he wiped his nose and tossed the tissue, he opened his eyes to see Kate staring at him. He shrugged and sniffed. “Sorry.”

 

Then, out of nowhere, came a soft slap to the back of his head. After an entire morning of being careful to avoid Gibbs, Gibbs turned up precisely when Tony hadn’t wanted him to. When Gibbs had collared him, the man had made it perfectly clear: omitting or hiding the truth was just as bad as lying. Cringing, Tony watched Gibbs walk past him then turn to face him. “Stand up, Tony. I need to speak with you.”

 

Tony swallowed his guilt and the sting against the back of his throat made him wince. His head pounded, and he knew he would feel dizzy if he jumped to his feet. Not to mention that he stood a much better chance of hiding his symptoms if he stayed seated. That was his one and only hope of avoiding punishment and staying at work. He positioned his hands on his keyboard.  “Um, I can hear you just fine from here, Boss. And I have some more work to—”

 

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs had a no-nonsense tone most of the time. But this time, he sounded so overwhelmingly commanding that it made Tony shiver. “That wasn’t a suggestion. I gave you your spanking not five hours ago. Did I do so bad a job with it that you need another already?”

 

Immediately, Tony shook his head. Gibbs was good with a paddle or strap and Tony could still feel every bit of it against the fleshy portions of his backside. He didn’t want Gibbs to give him another spanking already. And he certainly didn’t want Gibbs doubting himself.

 

“Then come here. Now.”

 

Tony was reluctant but obeyed. He got up, fought his way past the dizziness, and stepped forward. Gibbs stared at him with a cold firmness. Then Gibbs’ hand flew up. Tony winced and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the blow to the back of his head he knew was forthcoming.

 

But he felt nothing of the kind. He opened one eye as he felt Gibbs’ hand touch, instead, his cheek. The hand was so strong. Strong and warm. So wonderful. Tony couldn’t help but tilt his head slightly into the touch, like a kitten affectionately encouraging the hand that was petting it. And if Tony could have purred, he would have. The hand cupped him masterfully, then stroked a few times before sliding upwards toward Tony’s forehead. It remained there for only a few moments before, “Did you realize you were running a bad temp, DiNozzo?”

 

Tony knew better than to deny it, not when the evidence of his fever was so literally in Gibbs’ hand. “Yeah, but I didn’t think it was important to mention. I’ll be all right,” Tony told him.

 

“Yes, you will,” Gibbs agreed, his tone softer now but somehow even more commanding. It was the sort of agreement that came with a price, and Tony waited as that word hung in the air for almost a full minute.

 

“If I go lie down,” Tony said at last.

 

Gibbs smiled his little half-smile and patted Tony’s cheek. “Knew you were brighter than you looked, DiNozzo.”

 

Tony rubbed at his nose and considered his options. With a case going on, he wasn’t going to get much rest curled up under his desk with his head on his backpack like a pillow. And he drew the line at borrowing a table down in Autopsy. He might feel like death warmed over but his pulse was strong and he wasn’t about to welcome any creepy reenactments of horror flicks set in morgues. The space on the floor of Abby’s lab seemed the most inviting. He’d slept there before, after all. And he really could use a good nap. “I’ll go-hehh!” Out of nowhere, Tony’s breath caught. Embarrassed, he turned his head and tried to scrub the tickle out of his nose with his fist.

 

“You gonna sneeze, DiNozzo?”

 

Tony nodded. He might manage to prolong it for a minute or two, but it was coming, all right. And it would be embarrassing—to say the least—to sneeze in his boss’ face.

 

But Gibbs dug a hanky out of his pocket and handed it over. “There,” he said, as if that solved everything. “Give that a go if you need to.”

 

Tony was used to tissues. His father had had handkerchiefs, but it was one of many things Tony hadn’t picked up from his father. He knew what to do with one, obviously, but it was kind of different, being Gibbs’ and all. Did Gibbs just want him to rub his nose on it or pinch his nose through it? Or maybe sneeze into it and hand it back? What was the protocol for this sort of thing? Did Gibbs have a rule about it Tony wasn’t aware of?

 

“Th-thanks,” Tony managed. He tried to hand it back. “But I… I ahhhh…”

 

Gibbs took hold of Tony’s hand and guided it up. “Think I want my whole team catching what you’ve got?”

 

Trying his hardest to answer, Tony could only shake his head. His mouth dropped open and he succumbed to the overwhelming urge, his body tensing and spasming with it. “hah-CHIHH!” He sniffled and tried to clean himself up without making a mess of the cloth. “S-sorry, Boss. Sniff! I’ll just go downstairs now and lie down—”

 

“Hold it.” Gibbs reached over, spun Tony in place, and marched him toward the elevator. “I want you to go get a proper rest. None of this napping bullshit, you got it?”

 

Tony wavered. He understood—it was impossible to misunderstand Gibbs—but he didn’t want to go home. What if there was a break in the case? What if Gibbs needed him? “Yeah, but I don’t want to go home.”

 

“I don’t want you going home either,” Gibbs replied, and Tony was a little taken aback. Was it possible, after all, to misunderstand Gibbs? Was Gibbs really saying what it seemed like he was saying? “I want you to go over to my place. Not Abby’s lab, not your apartment, and not the couch. Go to my house, let yourself in, and get straight into the bed in my guest bedroom.”

 

“Sniff! So you’re ordering me into your bed. Kind of kinky, isn’t that, Boss? Sniff-sniff. Don’t I even get dinner and a movie first?” Tony asked as Gibbs pried a key off his keyring and pressed a key into Tony’s palm. Then Gibbs immediately reached up and lightly swatted Tony on the back of the head. “Okay, okay, I’m go-going.” Feeling another tickle, Tony turned away again, losing his nose in the folds of Gibbs’ handkerchief. “eh-eh-Chihfffff!” He felt Gibbs’ hand on the back of his head again, but this time it was rubbing and petting affectionately. And the touch relaxed Tony at once.

 

“You okay to drive? I can get someone to drive you.”

 

If Gibbs had offered to drive him, Tony would have taken him up on that. But he knew Gibbs wouldn’t leave when there was a case to work; he was surprised Gibbs was letting him leave. The more he thought about it, however, the more he really wanted to lie down somewhere warm. And if Gibbs were making him go, he might as well go while he could. “Nah, I’ll be all right.” Gibbs didn’t live that far and, outside of rush hour, it would be a quick trip.

 

“Right into bed,” Gibbs said. “If I come home and find you otherwise…”

 

Tony got the message. “Loud and clear, Boss.” He turned back toward the elevator and pressed the button to call it.

 

“Hey, DiNozzo!”

 

Tony turned to see Gibbs standing where he’d left him, head cocked. “The bed in the spare room, not my bedroom. If I see even a hint that you were in my bed…”

 

Tony promised to behave in Gibbs’ house, then retreated into the elevator where he thought of nothing else but crawling into Gibbs’ bed and welcoming his top home by lying there, spread eagle amongst a sea of candles and rose petals. Then, as always, he reminded himself he was not supposed to think like this about Gibbs, so he pushed the thought back, and set his mind on the task of getting home in one piece.

 

One miserable, sneezy piece.  “ehh-Kishhooo!” The second the sneeze was over, Tony’s eyes flew back open so he wouldn’t miss a bit of the road. Luckily, there was very little traffic and the sneeze hadn’t made the car veer off suddenly or anything. He had jerked the wheel and swerved slightly, that was all. Alone in the car, sneezing freely was a lot easier than trying to stifle his sneezes or grab tissues each time he felt a sneeze coming on, but it did make him sniffle quite badly.

 

It was a relief to finally pull into Gibbs’ driveway and head inside the house. But there was also a strange feeling in this. He was uncomfortable being at home during the day when he should have been at work, when everyone else was at work. It was strange thinking about the team working without him. Sure, he knew Gibbs, Kate, Abby, and Ducky were more than capable of solving this thing, but he still felt like he should be there. It was like recovering from the plague all over again. Forced time away from what he was good at and away from his top weren’t his thing at all.

 

“ehhh... damn… ehhh-IHShhoo! KTchoo! Snnnfffffffff!” Then again, maybe a few hours of sleep wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He jiggled the key in the lock and closed it behind him, but left it unlocked so Gibbs could get in. Gibbs’ house barely looked lived in it was so neat and boringly beige. And, yet, it still had Gibbs written all over it.

 

He knew he wasn’t allowed into Gibbs’ bed, and even Tony wouldn’t be that stupid as to defy direct, explicit orders and do something so disrespectful toward his top. This was a huge step in trust and the last thing Tony wanted was to let Gibbs down. But Tony couldn’t resist taking a quick peek at the bedroom anyway. It was white with soft browns, with hard angles and metal fixtures. The bed was made military-style and there wasn’t a thing on top of the dressers or nightstand, apart from a mirror and a lamp, respectively. But there were soft woods and gentle curves to things as well. Tony craved both sides of his top so badly that he almost allowed himself to step inside and try out the bed. He could almost smell Gibbs’ scent on the pillow. He wanted to lie on his stomach and look around, imagining he’d just been spanked and fucked in his top’s bed. To Hell with Tony pretending he didn’t care about romance or having a real top. He was in love with Gibbs, always had been.

 

But Gibbs had been clear when Tony had accepted his collar. There was no room for romance in their relationship, and there was certainly no room for love or sex. So Tony pulled himself away from the bedroom and closed the door.

 

Tony wasn’t about to crawl, fully-clothed, into Gibbs’ spare bed, so he shed items as he walked down the hall. He was shivering by the time he reached the guest bedroom in a white tank, jockeys, and his collar. One dive under the covers warmed him right up, though. Gibbs’ sheets were crisp and tightly tucked. There was barely room for a DiNozzo under them, but somehow Tony squeezed beneath. The weight of several layers of sheets, blankets, and comforters was comforting. The only thing missing was Gibbs and it didn’t take long for Tony’s imagination to fill in that blank.

 

*

Part 4

 

“ihhh-Hishhh!” So, he wasn’t doing any better then. After tripping over one of Tony’s shoes, Gibbs followed the trail of clothing down the hall. He had every intention of yanking Tony clear out of bed and making the man pick up after himself. He’d managed to make a mess across the whole place already and all he was supposed to be doing was sleeping. Sick or not, Tony had better shape up or he would have to find himself a new place to sleep.

 

Gibbs stopped in the doorway to the bedroom. Tony was in bed, just as he was supposed to be, but he wasn’t asleep. Tony lay in the center of the bed, clutching both a handkerchief and a roll of toilet paper. He looked blearily up when Gibbs arrived, even managing a weak smile, before his head snapped forward and his body jerked. “ehh-Chahhh!” He rubbed his nose into the handkerchief then ripped a whole handful of toilet paper off the roll to blow his nose into. He sounded… well, disgusting wasn’t really the word for it. “Hi, Boss,” Tony said, when he could speak. “You… looking to join me?” Tony shifted over in the bed, shivering as he hit colder spots that hadn’t yet been warmed by his body, probably. “There’s plenty of room.”

 

In the span of a few seconds, Gibbs had gone from annoyed to sympathetic to disgusted and back to annoyed again. “There will be even more room when you get up to clean this mess. Which you’re going to do immediately if you want to stay here.”

 

Tony moved almost involuntarily to comply, but he gave a small moan as he got to his feet. He grabbed for the bed, finding fistfuls of blankets, and leaning to steady himself. It took an extra few seconds to be sure he was all right. Then he sunk down to his knees and crawled over to a discarded, black sock.

 

When Gibbs was sure Tony wasn’t going to pass out from the task, he headed to the kitchen. He didn’t have all that much at hand and, as he couldn’t remember ever being sick, he wasn’t entirely sure what Tony would need. But you couldn’t go wrong with a glass of orange juice.

 

Gibbs settled on the couch with a stack of folders that was so tall it threatened topple over the second he set it down on the coffee table beside the orange juice. Still moving about on his knees, Tony rounded the couch. He had his clothes gathered in his arms and clutched to his chest. For a moment, Gibbs thought Tony was pausing in hopes of receiving praise for cleaning up. But then Tony’s jaw dropped and his face fell. “heh-Shuhhh! Heh-Shoo! Ehh-heh-ehgTChoo!”

 

Gibbs leaned over, offering another clean handkerchief. “Put your clothes down then come here and get warm.” Tony neatly put the bunch of clothes onto the recliner and then scrambled up onto the couch and into the thick blanket Gibbs held out for him. Gibbs could feel Tony shiver and he hugged his arms tightly around the wrapped man until the shivering stopped. “You all right, DiNozzo?”

 

Tony nodded. He sat contentedly beside Gibbs, his body pressed up against Gibbs’ in constant contact. Gibbs has learned long ago that Tony craved his touch, so he didn’t mind this sick and sniffly and needy version of Tony needing a little extra comfort.  “Am now, Boss.” Tony coughed and helped himself to the top folder of the stack. “What are we looking for?”

 

“Our dead naval officer worked in a medical research laboratory. These are the projects he worked on over the past six months.”

 

“So we’re sniff looking for anything that might have got him killed? Sniff! Sniff!”

 

“Yup. And blow your nose, DiNozzo.” The sniffing was either kinda cute or incredibly annoying, and Gibbs wasn’t sure which, but he did want to make it known he didn’t mind Tony blowing his nose whenever needed. The man seemed uncertain about the handkerchief or hesitant to make too much noise.

 

Tony did he was told. Then he kept the hanky pressed to his nose as he began leafing through the papers in the folder he set in his lap. Apart from occasional sniffles and coughs and the turning of pages, the two men sat in silence as they read. Every so often, Tony shivered a little and Gibbs instinctively reached out and gave Tony’s back a few rubs through the blanket.

 

“A lot of these files just say CLASSIFIED,” Tony pointed out.

 

“I had a word with his commanding officer. We’re getting the clearance, but they’re taking their sweet time.”

 

“Figures.” Tony coughed and dropped the latest useless file on the table. “Is this juice for me?”

 

“If you want it.” Gibbs found himself holding his breath as Tony accepted the drink. Tony took a sip, grimaced briefly, and then smiled the fakest smile Gibbs had ever seen him wear. Something in Gibbs’ chest plummeted to his gut. “No good?”

 

Tony shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s just that my throat is raw and the juice kind of stings.”

 

“’Kind of,’ DiNozzo?”

 

Tony shrugged and put the glass back down. “I’m not that thirsty anyway.” Gibbs reached over and rubbed Tony’s back again. Tony smiled and snuggled a little closer. Gibbs allowed it. It didn’t really matter that they both knew Tony was lying through his teeth to save his top’s pride. Punishment was at Gibbs’ discretion, after all.

 

“After we finish up here, I’ll check in with Kate. She’s looking after John Doe at a hotel room tonight.”

 

“You think he’s safe there, Boss?”

 

Gibbs almost raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She used to protect the President of the United States. I think she can handle one guy.”

 

Tony put on one of his characteristic sly grins. “I meant, do you think he’s safe in a hotel room alone with Kate?”

 

Tony laughed, but Gibbs didn’t think it was funny. He expected perfect trust from his subs, and he knew each of them as well as they knew themselves. He knew their talents and their faults. And he knew Kate wouldn’t try a thing with someone whose case they were working. He knew she would be cautious, clever, and professional.

 

Clearing his throat, Tony paused before taking another file. “It must be hard for John Doe. Sniff! I can’t even imagine what it’s like to not know if you’re a sub or a top. To be so blank… it must be confusing and lonely.”

 

“You don’t remember what it was like before you realized you were a sub?”

 

“I’ve always known,” Tony said. “Haven’t you always known you were a top?”

 

“Always,” Gibbs said. Tony’s answer didn’t surprise Gibbs at all. Tony had such a strong sense of his own dynamic, and Gibbs had certainly always known his own dynamic. Ever since he had been young, he had known what was in him and what he liked. Some of the details—the careful dance of the power play, the way he only liked his hands on his sub when they were making love, the way he pleased his sub so thoroughly that his sub never needed anything more—all came later. But he had always known he would be the top, asking for and accepting submission from the one he chose to love. He was a born top, and it showed in every aspect of his character, from the way he enjoyed sex to the way he dressed and carried himself in public. It was always a part of him. Tony was right: their John Doe must feel lost without it. Not knowing your name was one thing, but not knowing who you were inside? That must be torturous. “I hope…” Gibbs’ sentence trailed off as a strong snore shook Tony beside him. He had been lost in his thoughts so long he hadn’t noticed the extra weight of Tony leaning into him, and he hadn’t noticed how quiet Tony had gotten. And now Tony was fast asleep on the couch beside him.

 

Gibbs wasn’t really surprised by this, either. Tony had looked exhausted, and some of these project reports were impossible to decipher. Even the non-classified ones were filled with medical terms Gibbs could only guess at. This was a job better suited for anyone on the team apart from the two of them. “Hey, Tony. Get up and I’ll help you to the guest room.”

 

Tony didn’t stir. “Tony?” He nudged Tony, who was snuggled up against Gibbs’ side and part of his chest. “C’mon, DiNozzo. Wake up.” Nothing. Still no response at all. He nudged and then shook Tony.

 

Finally, Tony moved a little and mumbled, “Boss… sick… wanna sleep here… please…”

 

Gibbs sighed. He would have preferred to tuck Tony into the beds upstairs, in a room where the man would be able to get the comfortable, sound sleep he needed to get better. But if Tony was comfortable enough and wanted to sleep here, Gibbs could allow that. “All right,” Gibbs whispered, hoping it didn’t look like he was giving in to his sub. If it did, Tony was practically asleep again and probably hadn’t noticed. With care, Gibbs freed himself and eased Tony down on the couch in the warm spot where he’d been sitting. He slid several cushions under Tony’s head and draped a few more blankets over the sleeping man.

 

This was the part of the evening when Gibbs should have left Tony alone to sleep. But Gibbs couldn’t bring himself to stand up yet, let alone go to his bedroom. Tony was good at hiding himself—so good that once in a while, he even managed to hide something from Gibbs. But he damn well hadn’t been able to hide this cold of his. Tony was feeling awful, miserable, suffering. And that was when Gibbs’ toppy protectiveness had taken hold. That was what made it tough for Gibbs to leave Tony’s side now.

 

Gibbs settled down on the floor next to the couch, where he could reach the project files and reach Tony’s head. It felt so good to stroke Tony’s hair. He knew Tony was asleep and didn’t know he was doing it, and maybe that was one of the reasons he did it. Somehow he knew Tony could feel it, even in sleep, like the way a dog or cat will settle if you pet them while they’re dreaming. But, mostly, he did it for himself. This made him feel better by far than he had felt in ages. He just hoped Tony wouldn’t wake up and see him.

 

Slowly, he made his way through the stack, reading the same undecipherable words over and over, and putting aside the projects that couldn’t go into detail. One folder contained only one page with the project title: Sleepwalk and the word Classified stamped on the otherwise blank page. Gibbs felt frustrated, but giving Tony’s head a gentle pet took the edge off the emotion significantly. File after file, hour after hour, and Gibbs began to feel sleepy. Before he knew it, Gibbs had fallen to sleep in his spot on the floor, with Tony asleep at his side.

 

It wasn’t a particularly comfortable or restful sleep, and he snapped awake at three in the morning. He berated himself for it as he hauled himself up to bed to sleep properly. Except, he didn’t sleep well there either, knowing Tony was nearby, sick and miserable.

 

So when Gibbs woke in the morning finally, there was stiffness in his shoulders and a crick in his neck from the position he’d been in so long. A hot shower took care of most of his complaint, but he showered, shaved, and groomed in record time so that he could get to Tony as soon as possible.

 

The younger man was right where Gibbs had left him, and the sight actually brought a smile to his face. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone sleep over, even if it was just the couch. And the last time Tony had slept here had been before Tony’s collaring. That seemed like ages ago. So many cases. So many days. So many spankings.

 

Tony’s spanking. Gibbs leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and sighed. Tony got a spanking every morning, without fail. He had never skipped a day, apart from the days when Tony had been in the infirmary. Tony had been too ill to get into any mischief then, and Gibbs had been there often enough to touch Tony and let him know in no uncertain terms that he did not have his top’s permission to die. That order and Gibbs’ touch had been enough to ground Tony then. Gibbs wondered how much the man could take now. He prided himself in knowing his subs’ limits, but sick-Tony was harder to read.

 

Therefore, the best thing to do might be to head to work before Tony woke up, avoiding any interaction altogether. But what was easy for Gibbs and what was right for Tony might be two separate things. And Gibbs would never neglect his sub’s needs for his own convenience. Still, the idea of letting Tony sleep was tempting, and he considered it while he went to fix a quick breakfast.

 

*

Part 5

 

“eh-Choo!” Tony woke, his nose all sniffly and runny. But he wasn’t sore and tired the way he’d been the day before. And he wasn’t cold. He was comfy and warm amidst blankets and pillows… that weren’t his. Tony sat up, snuffling and coughing. “Gibbs?” He heard noise in the kitchen and then footsteps coming closer.

 

“Right here, DiNozzo.” He gave one of those small smiles that had nothing to do with amusement. “Morning.”

 

“G’bordig,” Tony echoed, sounding altogether too stuffy. He looked around for toilet paper to blow his nose into, and his eyes rested on Gibbs instead. Gibbs was awake and dressed, ready for work. The man even had his shoes on. “What tibe is it?”

 

“Almost eight-thirty.”

 

That sent Tony into a panic. In a cold sweat, cursing himself. Gibbs didn’t tolerate anyone showing up late, and no excuse would be sufficient. Tony hadn’t even thought to set the alarm in his cell phone before falling asleep the night before, which meant extra slaps for sure. He threw off the covers, shivering and a bit embarrassed by his state of undress. Then he started to get up.

 

“Relax,” Gibbs said, taking Tony by the shoulder and forcing him back down. “You’re sick. You’re staying home.”

 

Tony narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t a kid staying home sick from school. He was feeling better, apart from the obvious problems related to his nose. And there was a dead sailor and a man with amnesia. This case needed to be straightened out, and Tony was good at his job—damn good, in fact. “You deed helb workig the case.”

 

Gibbs didn’t deny this. In fact, he gave a nod. “This is true. But I also need you to rest so you can get over this cold and not get worse. We need to visit Bradley’s workplace, and I don’t think they’ll want someone sick visiting a medical research laboratory.”

 

There were probably plenty of other things that needed to be done. Granted no one would understand him with his stuffy nose if he interrogated a suspect. And running around all day tracking down leads would certainly wear him down. But there must be something he could handle. “Boss…”

 

“Stay here and rest, Tony.”

 

It wasn’t often that Gibbs used his first name or insisted Tony stop working. Resigning himself to his fate, Tony settled back down on the couch. “I guess I could rest, catch ub od by TV-watchig, call over sobe frieds for a huge barty. Ehh-heh-ehTChhh! hehKTchhh! Sniff! SNIFF!  Cad I tebdt you to stay with be?” He knew any attempt was futile; Gibbs wasn’t remotely tempted and there was far too much work to be done. But Tony liked to see that smile on Gibbs’ face anyway at the absurdity.

 

“Get some rest.”

 

“Good point,” Tony said. “I wouldn’t get much sleep if you stayed. But it would make me feel better.” Tony knew at once that he was pushing his luck. He also knew it was pointless to apologize. Gibbs didn’t like apologies. Not only were they a sign of weakness but it meant you did something wrong, which you weren’t supposed to do to begin with if Gibbs was your top. Luckily, a couple more sneezes distracted Gibbs from the comment. “heh-TChhhh! ehhTishhh! Hih-hih-HIHShhh! Uhh… excuse be. Sniff!”

 

There was a ding from the kitchen. “That’ll be the toast. Quick breakfast. Do you want a piece? Or… something else?”

 

“Toast,” Tony nodded. “Good, yeah.”

 

“Can I get you anything else?”

 

Tony nodded. “I could use a box of tissues or two. Add baybe sub tea? Add… cold bedicide?” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Blease? Sniff! Blease, blease?”

 

Gibbs sighed. “As soon as she gets back with John Doe, I’ll try to have Kate run out for supplies and drop them by here if there’s time.”

 

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted Kate to see him like this; he would have preferred Gibbs to bring the items, or Abby or Ducky for that matter. But he did really need tissues. He would take what he could get.

 

Gibbs disappeared into the other room for a moment, and Tony used the privacy to scrub the back of his hand at his nose repeatedly. Boy, it tickled. Annoyingly.  Gibbs returned with a plate of toast and a glass of water for Tony. “Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. But make sure to eat.” Gibbs set the plate down on the coffee table in place of one stack of folders.

 

Tony sat up, startled. “Boss? You wered’t thidkig of goig yet, were you? You did’t forget by sbadkig, did you?” Gibbs never forgot. He’d said long ago that it was Tony’s responsibility to remind him if he forgot, but he never forgot. Or, at least, he never had before. Did he think Tony couldn’t take a spanking this morning? Did he think him that weak, that sick, that pathetic?

 

Gibbs paused for only one second, one brief, telling second. Then he shook his head. “Of course I didn’t forget. I was waiting for you to wake up first. If you’re ready, we can do it right now.”

 

Nodding, Tony scooted over so Gibbs could sit down. Then he slipped his boxers down and off. He didn’t need to take off his undershirt, but he did anyway. It wasn’t as though it was keeping him warm and he liked being completely naked in front of Gibbs; it was part of his dynamic though he only did it occasionally. It was Gibbs’ right as a top, though Gibbs never commanded it, but Tony’s nudity added to his submission, making it easier to offer himself up completely.

 

Tony presented himself and lay across Gibbs’ lap. He felt Gibbs’ arm wrap around him, holding him tightly, securely. Tony couldn’t help bracing for the inevitable. The first slap was always the hardest, because there was no telling precisely when it would come. When it came, sharp and stinging against his backside, Tony gave a start. But Tony stayed in place and somewhere between the second and third hits, Tony relaxed. It wasn’t normal for him to submit so quickly, but the slaps got to him. Warmth spread throughout him from the bottom up, making him melt into Gibbs. There was pain, of course, there always was. But it was good and uncontrollable. It was Gibbs’ strap, Gibbs’ hand, Gibbs’ arm, Gibbs’ lap, Gibbs’ touch. He gave in to the unpredictable rocking and striking from his top, trusting Gibbs to know how much and when to stop.

 

But then he had to sneeze. It pulled him out of his warm, safe euphoria. It pulled him away from his retreat into his sub-space. This was more than annoying. He barely felt his arm as it moved so his hand could be over his nose and mouth. He felt the sneeze take over his whole body from the top down. He braced himself, tensing up, trying to fight it. “hehh-UhtChooo!”

 

He was about to whimper in frustration when he felt a warm, dry cloth pressed to his nose. And the trust he had just extended to Gibbs continued. He relaxed, snuffled wetly, and sneezed again. “ehtChihhhh!” He felt Gibbs’ arm tighten around him, holding him close and safe and not caring one bit that he was weak and sneezy and pathetic.

 

“Bless you,” Gibbs said, rubbing Tony’s nose. And then, suddenly, he gave Tony one more, hard smack with his strap. “You’re going to rest today, right?”

 

Tony nodded submissively and felt Gibbs move him, roll him, tuck him, hug him. Tony looked up at Gibbs blearily. Had that actually been a hug? Tony’s head dropped back onto a pillow and he felt his body hum, at peace with itself. “Right Boss,” he whispered.

 

*

Part 6

 

“h’Tichhhh!”

 

Gibbs hated to leave Tony like this, but he knew he had to. And, deep down, he knew Tony would be all right. Tony would slip back off to sleep and wake to find his rear sore. That would keep him in line, keep him from destroying the house all day, if the man even had the energy for that sort of thing.

 

Gibbs managed to switch into work mode the second he walked out of the elevator, or so he thought at first. Kate had just gotten there with John Doe and Ducky had finished the autopsy the evening before. Before he headed to autopsy, he got out a notepad and scribbled down: tissues, tea, cold medicine. Then he stuffed the notepad into his pocket.

 

“What have you got here, Ducky?”

 

“Oh, ah, something quite substantial, actually.” Ducky managed to avoid rambling or veering too far off topic, which Gibbs appreciated. Ducky explained that the gunshot had in fact finished the sailor off, but the mix of chemicals in his body would have taken a fatal toll on the system eventually. “I have never seen some of these combinations before, Jethro.”

 

“Would it be safe to assume it had something to do with one of the projects he was working on at the medical lab?”

 

“You know what they say about assuming… but that would certainly explain it, yes.” Ducky circled around the body and pointed to the man’s forearms. “Note the lack of track marks.” He gestured toward the round shoulder. “But there are minuscule puncture wounds here consistent with injections.”

 

“Consistent with the medical lab theory.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Thank you, Ducky.” Jethro wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders for a quick, appreciative hug.

 

As he got into the elevator, he pulled out the notepad. Instead of making notes about the case, he added some words to the list he had been making: nasal spray, hot-cold packs, bottled water.

 

He walked over to their John Doe, who was sitting by Kate’s desk in Tony’s chair, reading the newspaper. “Any luck remembering anything?” Gibbs asked.

 

The man shook his head.

 

“Would you take off your shirt?”

 

The man blinked back at him blankly. Gibbs wasn’t used to not having his commands instantly obeyed, and this hesitation was an interesting turn of events. Maybe the man was a top after all, instinctively not used to sharing his body. But then the man stripped off his shirt and wore such a helpless expression Gibbs couldn’t help but feel protective of him again. Maybe the man was a sub. Gibbs looked closely at the man’s shoulder. The marks on the dead body had been easier to see, but he could see a few pin prick-sized marks as he looked hard. “Thank you.” Gibbs said. “I want you to stay put today. I have more reason to believe you might be in danger.”

 

He signaled to Kate to take a walk with him. Once out of earshot of the man, Gibbs pulled the notepad out. “Looks like our man there was injected by the same sorts of needles as the dead sailor was.” It went without saying that if the latter was shot, the former might be at risk of the same. “Tony needs…” He jotted down movie rental on the notepad and tore off the sheet. “Tony needs some things, and I thought—“ He stopped short, realizing that he didn’t actually want to send Kate on this errand. He wanted to be the one to look after Tony. He wanted to be the one to bring Tony things. He wanted to be the one to see Tony smile at the appearance of medicine and treats. “I would go grab the stuff now and drop it off. Make sure you keep a close watch on John Doe. I won’t be gone an hour.” Kate nodded.

 

Having surprised himself, he wondered what Kate was thinking of the arrangement. Then he reminded himself that it was not her place to question him, no matter what she thought of it.

 

*

Part 7

 

“hehh-IHChhh!” Tony rolled over on the couch, punching at the cushions, trying to get comfortable. He felt miserable from his cold, that was for certain. But, more than that, he felt miserable not being at work during the day with the rest of his team. Instead he was lying on a couch, letting his brain go to work, and that was never a good thing. There were too many things to think about and absolutely nothing he could do to keep him distracted.

 

The memory of Gibbs’ touch was still fresh with him. He thought about Gibbs and the way the man had been with him yesterday, last night, and this morning. He thought about the case and their John Doe, who was a mystery Tony just couldn’t figure out. And he thought about the cold medicine he desperately wanted and didn’t have.

 

“ehhhh-Tishhhh!” Tony glanced at the clock. Gibbs had made a promise to send things over with Kate as soon as they were both in the office. But Tony didn’t want her to walk in and see him like this, all curled up on the sofa, sniffling and pathetic. No… he wanted her to find him upstairs in bed… in Gibbs’ bed. In Gibbs’ bed with rose petals strewn about. And mood music on. And the lights dimmed. And candles lit. And Tony stretched out on the sheets in nothing but his collar.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Tony had walked upstairs and opened the door to Gibbs’ bedroom. It was a lovely thought, but he knew it could be only that: a thought. Gibbs would kill him dead to find him like that.

 

Only it wasn’t Gibbs who was going to find him, it was Kate. Gibbs had said he would send Kate and if Gibbs never found out, it wouldn’t hurt Tony any. What was important was that Kate see this. He wanted her to think he thought Gibbs was returning home for a quick but loving fuck.

 

Off came the clothes. He shivered a little, but his excitement took over, adrenaline pumping through him. Tony was going to do this. He found some candles and matches in the emergency preparedness kit in the basement. He didn’t have any roses but he did find a radio station that played romantic music. Soon the mood was set in Gibbs’ bedroom. With flutters in his stomach, he climbed onto the bed, his hard-on overpowering his cold-induced misery.

 

He heard a car door slam outside and Tony’s heart began to pound. It felt so unreal to be on Gibbs’ bed, but there was no turning back now. He stretched out on his side, elbow bent to prop his body up. He heard the door open and Tony cleared his throat. “Ub here!” he called out, wishing he didn’t sound so terribly stuffy.

 

He heard footsteps on the stairs and grinned. Oh, the look on Kate’s face when she saw him in Gibbs’ bed would be priceless. She’d be shocked and jealous and probably utterly speechless.

 

The footsteps came closer and in through the open doorway to the bedroom stepped Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

 

Tony swallowed. He didn’t know what to say or do. There was absolutely no way to explain this or even apologize. He would be murdered and that would be the end of Anthony DiNozzo. He felt his nose tickle and had never before been so happy to need to sneeze.

 

*

Part 8

 

“eh-Ihhhhh… ihhh-Chishhh!” Tony paused, hand cupped over his nose and mouth. Then he curled up on himself again. “ihhKTchhhh! ehShihh!”

 

Gibbs reached into one of the plastic grocery bags he had brought and Tony flinched involuntarily, not sure what to expect. That was a bad sign. A top had every right to be unpredictable, but that shouldn’t make a sub so nervous. Tony should have known Gibbs would never really hurt him. Gibbs knew Tony’s limits. Gibbs pulled a tissue box out of the bag.

 

“Gibbs,” Tony said, his hand still over the lower half of his face, his voice thick with congestion. “About dis…”

 

“I don’t want to hear it, DiNozzo.” He tossed the tissue box to him. “Blow your nose and meet me downstairs.”

 

Gibbs headed downstairs and set the bags on the coffee table. He sat down on the couch and was glad to see Tony not a minute later. Tony had done more than just blow his nose, because he had an armful of clothes. He hadn’t dressed, though, expecting and knowing what was to come. “Where do you want me?” Tony asked, looking toward the corner of the room and then toward the couch, as if he might be able to predict what position Gibbs wanted him to assume.

 

“Over here on the couch.” Tony walked over obediently and bent over the arm of the couch, presenting his ass to take the punishment. “Seated on the couch.” Gibbs motioned for Tony to sit down.

 

He observed how Tony wanted to sit close, but not too close. Tony’s face was flushed still but he looked his boss in the eye. “I’m a screw up. You knew that from the start.”

 

“Yes I did.” That hadn’t stopped him from taking Tony as his sub. In fact, it had pretty much been the reason. “But this is my fault.”

 

Tony blinked at him in disbelief. Gibbs decided against telling Tony about one particular rule.

 

“I never should have let you sleep on the couch, not when you’re sick. It’s not fair to you. More importantly, I went easy on you this morning.”

 

“I knew it!” Gibbs shot him a look, but Tony didn’t let him off easily. “But I couldn’t say anything about it, could I? You would have said you knew what’s best for me and…” His words died off and that ‘I’m about to sneeze’ look appeared on his face. Gibbs reached over and put his hand on Tony’s back. The man pitched forward. “hehShuhhhh!”

 

Gibbs dug another tissue box out of the bags on the coffee table, ripped it open, and gave it to Tony. “Yeah, I know what’s best for you. Which is why I’m not going to punish you.”

 

“Boss?”

 

Tony had just been acting out to get attention. Granted he hadn’t been feeling well enough for that back when he’d had the plague, but he had been back to work pretty quickly as soon as possible. Maybe this was just what a sick DiNozzo did. Maybe a sick DiNozzo was super needy. Gibbs didn’t know, but he knew Tony needed something, and it wasn’t a strap to the ass. “You’ve got my attention, DiNozzo. And that comes with a few other things right now.” He pulled items out of the grocery bags, overwhelming Tony with cold medicine, cough drops, tea, nasal spray and a dozen other things. “I’ve also got more of those files, if you think you feel up to working.”

 

Tony was eager to help. Gibbs wrapped him up in a blanket and then tucked him into the bed in the guest bedroom. He sat down on the bed as well, helping Tony get settled and feel comfortable.

 

“hehShihhh! Hihh-Hishhh!” Tony leaned back, sinking into the pillows with one of the files. “Once the medicine kicks in, I should feel better. But… ” Tony broke off, yawning. “Boss…”

 

“Get some sleep if you need to, DiNozzo.”

 

Tony shook his head and blinked rapidly. “I-ehhh… I want to help. Ihhh-Hitchhh! Want to help the victims.”

 

“Victims?” Gibbs set down the folder he was looking through. “The only victim we’ve got is a dead officer, and we don’t even know for sure about that.”

 

“John Doe? You think he might be guilty?”

 

“I really don’t know yet.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “What, no famous Gibbs’ gut feeling?”

 

Gibbs shook his head. “It’s strange. I get no vibe at all from the guy. I can’t trust anything I feel about him, which means I can’t trust him.”

 

With a light chuckle, Tony said, “My mother always told me to never trust a top.”

 

Something clicked with Gibbs at that. “What?”

 

“I’ve tuh-told you that before. Hehh… heh-Eghtchh! Snfff! My mom said tops can’t be trusted. And I believed her, until I met you, of course.”

 

Gibbs shuffled through the folders until he found the one he was looking for. Then he leaned over and pressed a strong kiss to the top of Tony’s warm forehead. “I’ve got to go.”

 

*

Part 9

 

“ehhh-Itchhh!” Tony hurried through blowing his nose in order to exclaim, “Wait! Go? Why?”

 

Gibbs got up, taking the folder with him. “I’ll be back soon. You can trust me on that.”

 

Tony didn’t like the feeling of being abandoned when he felt so damn sick. But he trusted Gibbs to return.  He listened to Gibbs’ footsteps retreating down the hallway, and he suddenly felt sicker. It was strange, but he had felt so much better just to have Gibbs there, even through the part where he was sure Gibbs was going to strangle him.

 

Suddenly, the footsteps grew louder and Gibbs reappeared. “Get some rest.”

 

Tony smiled back at his top, not feeling quite so bad any more. He listened to those footsteps again, hearing them head down the stairs this time. A few minutes later, the door opened and then closed. And Tony, feeling terribly sleepy from the cold medicine, closed his eyes. There were still files on the bed. There was still work to be done. But he figured having a bit of a rest wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

 

The tickles in his nose refused to rest, though. His hand groped for the tissue box, unsuccessful in finding it before the first sneeze. “HIHTchhhh!” He pressed his hand to his nose and looked around. There was a handkerchief on the nightstand; that would do until he could find the tissues, even if he preferred… “hah-IHShhh! eh… ehguh… Ehgshihhhhh!” He drew a thick, shaky breath and readjusted the hanky, wiping a dry portion at his sore nostrils. These handkerchiefs were starting to grow on him.

He could barely use his nose for all the runs and stuffiness, but the scene on the handkerchief was still something of Gibbs’. And if Gibbs couldn’t be there with him, it was a nice reminder that the man was looking out for him still. “uh…” He tightened the grip on his nose through the cloth as his mouth dropped open again. “uhh-HITChhh! KITchhhh! Snrffffff!” He wanted to blow his nose but didn’t dare do that with a handkerchief. “Quih-sniff-quit ticklig!” he tried to tell his nose, but he was losing energy by the second. “Ih-shughhh!”

 

It took him some time to shake the feeling of constantly needing to sneeze. He finally found the tissue box, buried under a pile of folders and half-covered by a blanket. And once he blew his nose a dozen times, it felt better. Worse, really, for the torture his nose was going through. And the back of his throat hurt from sneezing as well. He knew what would help that, though.

 

 He pulled himself out of bed and went downstairs. He popped a cough drop in his mouth as he watched a mug of water rotate in the microwave. When he took it out, it wasn’t as hot as he wanted, so he put it back in for another minute and blew his nose in the meantime. The microwave dinged and Tony dunked the teabag in. He added sugar, and then he put in a little more sugar.  He cupped the mug in both his hands for a moment, savoring the warmth as the steam rose upward and caressed his chin and face.

 

But it made his nose run dreadfully and he headed back to the napkin holder by the microwave for another. Realizing Gibbs probably wouldn’t much care for a sea of balled-up napkins littering the counter, Tony swept his hand over them to pick them up. But, in the process, he knocked over the mug.

 

Apart from the fact that the tea he had wanted was gone before he had even had a sip, was the fact that the mug shattered into a half dozen pieces. He swore and bent down to clean it up. But his head pounded and bending over made him dizzy and he didn’t have the faintest clue where Gibbs kept a broom and dustpan.

 

It was all Tony could do to avoid the puddle of hot tea and get to the phone. It took him three tries to get Gibbs’ number punched in correctly, and even then he was nervous about what Gibbs might say. Gibbs’ cell phone rang and rang and just when Tony thought it would go to voice mail, Gibbs answered. “Hello?” There was a slight pause and Tony could hear a turn signal being clicked on. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said meekly. “I… I’b sorry. I dow I’b dot subbosed to say that, but I ab. Dabb the whole sigd of weakdess thig; I’b sick add weak. I broke that forest greed cub. I was tryig to have tea. I was cold add by throat is killig be add I was cleadig ub because I had to blow by nose a lot, dot that it helbs. Sniff! It wod’t quit ruddig. This cold is awful—”

 

“Tony…”

 

“But I reached for the dapkids add I docked the bug right over add broke it. I did’t bead to. I cad’t do adythig right today. I hobe it was’t your favorite. I cad get you a dew ode if you wadt—”

 

“Tony…”

 

“Or, well, I bight be able to fix it. Do you have ady cerabic glue? I bet you have all kinds of stuff dowdstairs for the boat. Wood glue or sobethig. Baybe that would work od—”

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs’ voice had an edge to it that made it feel to Tony like a light slap to the back of his head.

 

Tony stopped speaking and took a step back, leaning against the refrigerator. He felt another tickle in his nose and cupped a few of the balled up napkins to it.

 

*

Part 10

 

“huhh… oh.. ‘Scuse… have to… ehhh-Hugtchhhhh!”

 

“Bless you.” Gibbs heard the sound of paper rustling and then a few wet sniffs. He lowered the phone for a moment as he swerved around a small, black car that was only meandering along at 52 on a stretch of road clearly labeled 45; stupid Northern Virginia drivers. He wasn’t going much faster in the other lane, but being in the left-most lane made him feel like he was going faster. The SUV in front of him kept hitting their breaks to slow down by increments and he sighed before turning his attention back to his cell phone.

 

Tony was coughing, sniffling, and clearing his throat. “Leave the mug where it is,” Gibbs ordered. “I don’t give a damn about it, but I do want you back up in bed. Make another cup of tea, break all the mugs I own if you gotta. Just get back to bed. Do you understand me?”

 

“Yes, Boss,” Tony replied, in-between more sniffles.

 

The turnoff for the medical laboratory came up on him fast. He turned the car and found himself outside a metal gate. “I need to go, DiNozzo.”

 

“Right, s…” Tony was apparently about to apologize again, but cut himself off this time.

 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Gibbs offered.

 

“I’ll be asleep later.”

 

Gibbs gave a little half-smile. “After that.”

 

One of the guards tapped a knuckle against the car window. “ID, Sir?”

 

“Bye.” Gibbs cut their conversation short. Then he pulled out his badge and hit the button to lower the window. “And hello. Here to see Admiral Richards.”

 

The man stepped over to the guard house with Gibbs’ badge. He returned a few moments later with a nod. “Go on in, Sir. Park in any of the white spaces.”

 

Gibbs went in all right. He walked down the halls of the research laboratory with purpose. If he had been on a submarine, the proper phrase would be “make a hole” but there was no need for Gibbs to call out that way. People saw him—his stance, his eyes, his demeanor—they knew what sort of a man he was, what sort of a top, and they moved out of his path. He would have liked Tony with him—not only did having a collared sub with him make him look more impressive, but because Tony really was a damn good field agent. At least when his screw-ups weren’t getting in the way.

 

Gibbs walked past labs, rooms, dozens of people, and the admiral’s shocked, stammering secretary. He burst into the admiral’s office. “I need information.” He slammed his palms down on the desk.

 

Admiral Richards looked up and gave a deep sigh. “Agent Gibbs, you haven’t been cleared yet. As I explained to you—”

 

“And as I explained, I can’t investigate your officer’s death unless I have all the details. I can’t wait for clearance, but I don’t need it for everything. All I need is to know about Operation Sleepwalk.” He threw an almost empty file folder down on the desk.

 

The admiral wouldn’t look up at him. He stared at the folder and Gibbs imagined he knew just what he was thinking.

 

“In fact, you don’t have to give me most of the information, because I think I already have it. The idea is to pump people full of a special cocktail of chemicals and it then appears to the world as if they have amnesia. Quite handy for soldiers undergoing interrogations, I’d wager. And the effects aren’t permanent, are they? So how long does it last? A few hours? A few days? Long enough to throw people off the scent and let them dismiss you?”

 

Admiral Richards, knowing it was useless, opened up the folder. He stared at the piece of paper reading: Sleepwalker. Followed by: CLASSIFIED. He sighed and looked up at Gibbs. “It lasts roughly twenty-eight hours—a bit more or a bit less depending on the exact administration of the standard dose. But our tests showed that the drug is fatal to one out of every three people.” He looked up at Gibbs, his eyes wide, scared. “Fatal, Gibbs. There was no way around it. We couldn’t proceed forward in our testing, and certainly its usage would never have been approved.  The project was shelved.“

 

*

Part 11

 

“hehshuhhh!” Tony sneezed freely, not caring in the least about tissues or handkerchiefs or any other crap that went with it. Let his nose tickle. Let it run. Let it sneeze nonstop. He wasn’t getting out from under these nice, warm covers. He wasn’t budging. He wasn’t even pulling out a hand. He wasn’t… “hehhh-IHKTchhh!” A pause. A dribble. Another sneeze. “heh-EKShhh! Ihshhh!” Or two. “Tishhhhhh!” Or three. “eh-hehhhhhhh…” Tony turned his head into the pillow, rubbing, smushing, smashing his nose against the pillow. His jaw quivered. His nostrils flared. His breath caught. “Itchh!”

 

Groaning, Tony rolled over in the opposite direction, getting away from the damp spot. He sniffled again and again and again. Finally, he brought out his hand and scrubbed a finger under his damp nose. “Quit it,” he mumbled, knowing his nose wasn’t going to take instructions. Maybe if Gibbs were here he might be able to persuade it.

 

Tony heard clanking downstairs and gave a start. Then he remembered the mug and Gibbs’ promise to be back. And he realized he didn’t have to sneeze again. Hearing footsteps headed toward him, Tony tried to prop himself up in bed.

 

“Down, boy.” Gibbs tossed Tony the bottle of Nyquil. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Awful.” It took Tony a few moments of pushing and turning before he removed the safety cap. Then Tony took an overly-large gulp of the intense, buzz-inducing green stuff. “By dose is all ruddy add by throat is burdig. Add I’b so tired. So tired of beig tired.”

 

“Good.” Gibbs walked over and felt his forehead. “Still a bit too warm but complaining means you’re getting better.”

 

“You dow what would get be better faster?” He said as alluringly as he possibly could with a stuffed-up nose and scratchy throat. He imagined Gibbs really getting into bed with him, holding him tight, comforting him, and then fucking this cold right out of his body. Gibbs didn’t have anything to worry about. Gibbs never got sick.

 

Gibbs stood there, smiling at Tony, and Tony knew—he just knew—that Gibbs was reading his mind. He didn’t know how Gibbs could do it, but he was. Gibbs knew everything. He knew when Tony was talking about him or when Tony was slacking off or joking around. He knew when Abby had a breakthrough. And he knew when a suspect was guilty. But now he knew how badly Tony wanted him—and not just in a joking way, but in a desperate, passionate, perfectly insane way that ended in a belt and sharing a plate and…

 

“A movie, right?” Gibbs sighed deeply. “All right. If a movie would make you feel better, I’ll bring the television from downstairs up here. But you have to promise to get some sleep not stay up all night watching some marathon.”

 

Gibbs left the room and Tony sunk back into the pillows, feeling sicker than ever, his heart galloping. He put his hand to his forehead. Was it that hot? He really couldn’t tell. What was happening to him? What was going through his mind? Nervous, he took another liberal gulp of Nyquil and waited for the buzz to wash over him completely.

 

He was vaguely aware of Gibbs setting the television up and turning it on. And he thought he felt the bed sag as Gibbs sat down near him. But after an especially long blink, he found he was alone in the dark room, apart from the television. And his nose was tickling madly again.

 

*

Part 12

 

“ItChhh! Hitchh! IhShhh! Itchttt!”

 

Gibbs stumbled down the hallway in the middle of the night, half asleep. The sounds of Tony’s sneezes and coughs had woken him and no matter how he told himself the man would be all right, he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep before checking just to be sure.

 

The door to the guest bedroom was wide open, and it was Gibbs’ house after all, so he invited himself in. Tony lay in bed, eyes open but clearly not seeing anything. “Are you all right?” Gibbs whispered. When Tony didn’t respond, Gibbs tried again. “DiNozzo? Tony?” Still no response. When Gibbs went closer, he saw Tony’s skin was glistening. He reached down and felt the man’s forehead, jerking his hand back in shock when he felt how wet and hot it was. Gibbs didn’t think, he just pulled off the covers holding Tony down in bed. Tony had on a white tee and boxers, but his body shivered at the sudden cold and Gibbs pulled a sheet and blanket back up for him.

 

Gibbs didn’t know what to do. He could try slapping Tony to see if that got any response but likely it wouldn’t have the response he wanted. And the very last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Tony in any way. He might discipline his subs, but that was only when they deserved it. Taking a hand to Tony now would be cruel and unnecessary.

 

Tony’s eyes closed and his whole body convulsed with an especially wet “heh-SHEHH!”  Gibbs pulled back in time, but picked up one of the handkerchief from the stack on the dresser to wipe Tony’s nose with. It was a weird feeling, this, and one he hadn’t felt since his daughter had been alive. Gibbs desperately wanted to help but he felt useless. Moreover, he felt extremely worried.

 

“Tony?” he tried one last time. “Answer me: can I get you anything?”

 

But that was one order Tony wasn’t in a position to obey. He closed his eyes but a distressed look came over him. He thrashed about against his covers and shivered again. Gibbs wasn’t sure if he should restrain Tony or remove the blanket entirely. He wasn’t sure about anything, actually. In fact, Gibbs could think of only one thing to do about this. Gibbs walked straight down the hall and grabbed the phone off the dresser. He hit one of the speed dial numbers and waited. It rang. And rang. And Gibbs was prepared to wait through as many rings as it took, but luckily there was a sleepy “Hello?” sooner rather than later.

 

Words caught in Gibbs’ throat, as if they couldn’t get past his emotions. And while he didn’t mind the fact that his subs might see him in a vulnerable moment, this was neither the place nor the time. Tony was back there looking awful and completely out of it and Gibbs had no idea what to do. “Duck,” he squeezed out.

 

There was an infinitesimal pause. Then, “What’s wrong, Jethro? Is it Anthony?”

 

Those words brought more relief than Gibbs could have dreamed. There was a hard, clenched something in the center of his chest and at least he didn’t have to try to figure out where to start getting around it. “It’s bad. I don’t know what’s wrong. He’s unresponsive.”

 

“Jethro…” Ducky wore Gibbs’ collar. In fact, he had been Gibbs’ sub so for more than a dozen years. Yet the switch in him let him tap into his inner top when needed. He knew better than to try to take Gibbs on. There was no way anyone could out-top Gibbs’ toppiness. But Ducky still adopted the perfect tone: one that was extremely calm yet commanding. “Just tell me his current symptoms and what he’s taking.”

 

“That green stuff—Nyquil. From the look of it, he drank more than he was supposed to. And he’s burning up, Ducky. He barely had a temperature earlier but now he seems so hot to the touch.”

 

There was some rustling in the background, which Gibbs assumed was the sound of Ducky putting on something he could wear outside. “All right. Listen to me. I want you to get a cold compress and try to keep him cool. His fever is most likely trying to run its course. And even if he took a little too much medicine, it won’t kill him.”

 

“Hurry, Ducky.”

 

Ducky hurried.

 

By the time Gibbs had wrapped a dish towel around the cold pack from his freezer, Ducky’s Morgan Roadster had pulled into the driveway. Gibbs heard the man enter and called over his shoulder, “Guest bedroom!” knowing that Ducky knew where that was. He adjusted the cold pack on Tony’s forehead. And he thought about picking Tony’s hand up, squeezing it. The move felt right, but he wasn’t sure how it would look to Ducky or to Tony if Tony actually knew what was going on. Ducky came in before Gibbs could decide what to do.

 

Ducky came in and squeezed Jethro’s shoulder. “I can see why you were worried.” He waited for Gibbs’ nod before he checked Tony over. They were, as Abby called them, “sublings", and there was absolutely no reason for Gibbs to feel threatened by Ducky. Ducky was collared, same as Tony. But Ducky still wanted express permission to touch Tony, and Gibbs was glad to give it. He felt overly protective of Tony just now, but he let Ducky look at the man’s eyes, insert a thermometer into his ear, check his face and neck for swollen lymph nodes. “It isn’t typical to have a fever with a cold, but the plague compromised Tony’s immune system—”

 

“Weakened him?” Gibbs stiffened, not liking the sound of it one bit. He didn’t like Tony being weak.

 

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.  But he’ll be all right. I can give him a mild sedative to relax him and help his body rest. I’m rather surprised the Nyquil didn’t knock the poor boy out completely, but perhaps other factors are keeping him on edge.” Ducky slipped his hand into Gibbs’. “But I would suggest the best course of action would be to wait it out and only act if things appear to be getting worse for him.”

 

“I don’t like waiting, Duck.”

 

Ducky squeezed his hand. “That isn’t news to me, my dear boy. But at least you won’t be waiting alone.”

 

It took a few moments—almost a full minute, in fact—but Gibbs squeezed back.

 

“Good. Now, go make us some coffee and find a few chairs. I’ll stay right here with Anthony.”

 

Gibbs hesitated, not used to taking orders from anyone, least of all one of his subs. Ducky was the only one from whom he would have even considered it, let alone obeyed. There was a sort of serenity to be found in the familiar task of making coffee, it seemed. He ran the bean grinder, letting out his anger through that. And he poured the grounds into the coffee maker, releasing his worry as well as he made coffee for two not just one. He watched the coffee drip into the pot, trying to embrace the peace that came with waiting. The hearty aroma, the warmth, the rich taste... coffee made everything better.

 

He headed back to Ducky with chairs and two mugs. The men sat down beside each other along one side of the bed. They sat in silence, watching Tony, sipping the coffee. After a while, Tony closed his eyes and his breathing went deep and slow, albeit with mighty snores from his stuffed-up nose. He felt a little cooler as well, though Gibbs thought that might just be from the cold compresses they were cycling through.

 

“Jethro,” Ducky said after a while. “May I have a word?”

 

“Of course.” Jethro wasn’t particularly fond of the tone in Ducky’s voice, but if he needed to talk, Gibbs could listen.

 

“I know you’re worried about Anthony, and I don’t blame you. But it is difficult to see you like this.”

 

Difficult to see *him* like this? “Like what exactly?”

 

“If there is one word I would never use to describe you, it would be: uncertain. Jethro, you always know who you are and what to do. It’s what your subs look for in you: your confidence, your ability to make decisions, your strength. But right now, you aren’t projecting anything of the sort.”

 

Gibbs looked at Ducky, fear fluttering in his chest. “Duck…”

 

“It’s all right, my dear boy. It is more than understandable. As one Antoine de St. Exupery wrote, ‘Only the unknown frightens men.’ And given the fact that you never fall ill, you cannot empathize. You see his suffering but cannot fight this for him.”

 

“He’s strong enough to fight it on his own,” Gibbs said.

 

“I’m sure he is,” Ducky agreed. “But he’ll feel much better if you start showing him you believe that.”

 

Gibbs was silent after that. He sipped his coffee. But it wasn’t long before their mugs were drained and tiredness crept up on them again. Gibbs, who felt awful about waking the man and dragging him over just to sit there with him, let the doctor fall asleep against Gibbs’ side. Ducky rested his head against Gibbs’ shoulder and head. And Gibbs, finding no one watching him, reached out and took Tony’s hand, finding it as much a comfort to himself as to Tony—probably more, actually, as Tony was fast asleep.

 

Gibbs wasn’t sure how long he had sat there like that, with one collared sub sleeping in front of him and another sleeping against him. But at some point, this whole thing seemed a bit pointless. Tony didn’t need him. He sensed that. He knew that. So he gave Tony his hand back and then nudged Ducky awake as kindly as possible.

 

“Hmm?” Ducky woke slowly, disoriented and stiff from sleeping upright.

 

“I think DiNozzo will be all right now, Duck.”

 

Ducky yawned and nodded. He leaned forward and checked Tony’s temperature again. “Quite right.” It was clear from his less-than-precise movements that he wasn’t completely awake yet. And his eyes had closed for a few long moments while the thermometer took its readings.

 

Gibbs put a hand on Ducky’s back. “I don’t want you driving home at this time of night; you’re too drowsy.” Gibbs gestured toward the bed. “And the guest bed is taken, obviously.” He nodded toward his bedroom. “I don’t want to bed you tonight. I’m just offering my bed.”

 

“Naturally.” He yawned again. “And that’s an offer I would be happy to accept just now.” Ducky followed him down the hallway, walking to heel even without the leash. Ducky stripped down to his underthings—with his top’s help. They climbed into bed together, touching a bit but mostly drifting off to sleep at once.

 

*

Part 13

 

“hetchh!” Tony rubbed at his nose. “That was an exception, Boss. Sniff! I really am feeling better.” He had been trying to convince Gibbs all morning that he felt well enough to go in to work. He had rolled out of bed and immediately made it. He had cleaned up the guest room and dressed. He had even started breakfast, a bit confused to find the coffee machine had been left on all night with old coffee grounds left in it. He had proposed the idea to Gibbs and kept up the persuasion before, during, and after his spanking, yet Gibbs still seemed on the fence about it.

 

 Tony could only think of one other way to persuade a top and Gibbs had never fallen for one of Tony’s lines before. “I’ll make it worth your while if you let me go.” Gibbs sighed and Tony suspected he had gone a bit too far with that one.

 

Before Tony could say anything else, however, Gibbs spoke up, “All right. If you say you’re feeling better, I’ll trust you on that. I could use your help on the case. But at the first sign of trouble I’m sending you right back here. Got it, DiNozzo?”

 

“I understand.” Tony was no stranger to agreeing to Gibbs’ rules and conditions. And this was one he thought he could comply with. Besides, he had had enough of trying to be brave in the face of illness.

 

“Get dressed. I’ll give you the details so you can catch up on the drive over.”

 

Tony turned the heat on in the car as Gibbs filled him in, pretending that he wasn’t cold. It was strange being back in his suit again—the same one he’d had on days ago. It sported a few wrinkles from its time on the floor, but it was mostly fine. He just hoped Kate wouldn’t tease him about it.

 

When he got to work, there was no teasing. There was a smile from Kate accompanied by a “Welcome back.” And then there was a THWUMP as Abby came at him with a tight hug. “You’re back!”

 

“Abby,” he said, patting her back. “I’ve only been gone a day and a half.”

 

“Seems like longer,” she said into his chest. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah.” But as soon as he said it, he felt another tickle in his nose. He loved Abby’s hugs but he didn’t want her to catch this bug from him. So he pushed her away and reached for a tissue from the box he had taken along. He folded it over his nose and mouth. “Tiish!” He turned his back to her, putting a hand on his desk and bending at the waist. “h’Tshhhh! Heptishhh!”

 

“Bless you!” she said perkily, pulling two, four, six tissues from the box and handing them to him.

 

Tony blew his nose lightly, not wanting to disgust her. Then he took a seat at his desk and looked over at their amnesiac. Gibbs had told him about Project Sleepwalker in the car and Tony had been all prepared to feel sorry for the man at first sight. It certainly wasn’t the guy’s fault if someone had pumped him full of drugs to make him forget his identity. But, looking at him now, Tony didn’t get the victim vibe from him. Maybe Gibbs was right; maybe the only victim in this was the dead sailor. Or maybe they were both to blame. Tony leaned back in his desk chair, careful not to lean too far back to lose his balance and draw attention to the fact that he was staring. He watched John Doe talking to Kate, gesturing, moving. He saw the man sitting there, elbows on thighs, legs spread, in a cocky, casual pose. He saw the man’s relaxed shoulders and head tilted up slightly as if he knew better than everyone around him. If that didn’t say “top” Tony didn’t know what did. So why was he getting a sense of the guy now, finally?

 

Kate chose that moment to yawn and stand up. “I could really use a coffee,” she stated. “Anyone want anything?”

 

Abby, who had been nearly to the elevator, spun on the spot. “Caf-Pow!”

 

Kate smiled. “You got it. Gibbs, you want coffee?”

 

He tilted his head in a nod. Tony wondered why she even needed to ask Gibbs; the man and coffee were practically synonymous.

 

Tony cleared his throat. “Hey, Kate. Could you bring me—”

 

“A brain? A clue?”

 

“Ha-ha.” He scrubbed his hand at his nose to no avail. “h’Itch! Het-ITchh!” He cleared his throat. “Actually, a cup of hot water with a lemon wedge?”

 

She paused a moment, looking Tony over, as if wondering if that were the real Tony with a request like that. He smiled meekly at her, and she gave him a nod. Then she looked over at John Doe. “Want to come along?”

 

He glanced around the room and then nodded. He got up, standing tall, and walked with her. Once again, Tony had the strange feeling that the guy was a top. He wasn’t exactly sure how he knew, he just did, the way he knew the guy had blond hair and blue eyes.

 

“Wait! Hold the elevator!” Abby called, shuffling after the two on tall, black, platform shoes. “I’m headed to my lab.”

 

Tony waited until the elevator doors closed before he stood up. “Think I’ve…” His nose tickled again, and he scrubbed the back of his hand against his nose. “Think I’ve got something, Boss.”

 

Gibbs looked over from his desk, giving one of his little half-smiles. “Yeah, Tony. It’s called a cold. I happened to have noticed.”

 

Tony thought it was a pretty bad joke, but he didn’t care so long as Gibbs kept smiling. “About the case, Boss. About our John Doe, actually. I think he might be a top.”

 

“Ya think, DiNozzo?”

 

“What, you knew?” Tony tried not to look as disappointed as he felt. Gibbs hadn’t mentioned anything about that on their drive to the office.

 

Gibbs nodded and rose out of his desk chair, walking over to Tony and dropping his volume so the whole place didn’t hear. “John Doe started acting a bit strange yesterday. I couldn’t help but notice and Kate couldn’t either. She’s got the measure of him, I think—control freak, power trip, brutal top. I told her to not let on she knew.”

 

If he were faking amnesia still, it sounded like the man had something to hide. In which case he probably wasn’t a victim. In fact, he was probably the murderer. And this might not be the first time the man had done this. “I… think I’ve got an idea. Do we still have that photo of John Doe we’ve been sending around to the local authorities?”

 

“Yup. Run with it, DiNozzo. Let me know if you get anything.”

 

*When*, Tony corrected him, mentally. He really thought he had something here. Tony rubbed his nose again. It had worked last time, but this time the tickle wouldn’t back down. “hTch! iTchhh!” He smothered the sneezes into one of Gibbs’ handkerchiefs, now kind of used to the sound and the soft touch against his red nose. Holding the hanky up to catch any future sneezes, Tony went through the files on the server. It didn’t take long to locate the photo. Assuming John Doe had done this before, and anyone so caught up with power that he wore an officer’s uniform even though he wasn’t enlisted, he might have done this sort of thing before. The question shouldn’t be “do you know who this man is?” but, instead “has this man with amnesia been involved in one your cold cases?”

 

*

Part 14

 

“hetChih!”            

 

Gibbs raised his head. Tony had done a fair bit more sneezing than Gibbs was comfortable with. Any more and he was going to have to tell Tony to go back home. And that was a shame, because Tony seemed to be onto something. And if Tony thought it warranted investigation, it was worth investigating.

 

Gibbs glanced over at their John Doe. Pretty soon, he would slip up and the NCIS team wouldn’t be able to pretend not to notice. If Tony didn’t find something soon…

 

“Found something, Boss.”

 

Gibbs almost jumped, startled, to see Tony right in front of him. He was used to sneaking up on Tony, not the other way around. But he smiled casually at the bright yellow folder Tony was presenting him. Careful to keep the folder angled so there was no possible way a word could be glimpsed from across the room where John Doe sat, Gibbs took a peek. It was precisely what he needed. Closing the folder, he looked up at DiNozzo. “Good work.”

 

It was rare for Gibbs to praise him, though he knew Tony thrived on it. So Tony beamed at this, his expression blissful even as Gibbs got up, strode across the room, and grabbed John Doe’s arm. “We need to talk.” Gibbs walked him right over to Interrogation Room 1 for a friendly little chat.

 

“What’s this about?” John Doe asked, sinking into the hard-backed chair, leaning back from the cold, metal table. “Did you find something out about me?”

 

Gibbs didn’t answer because he didn’t have to. He was leading this interrogation, not the other way around. And as long as it didn’t seem like an interrogation, everything would go according to plan. So instead of speaking, he walked a slow circle around the man, arms crossed over his chest. Every so often he looked at John Doe, utter loathing in his gaze. Finally he set the yellow folder down on the table but remained standing, slightly bent over, palms flat upon the table, brilliant blue eyes focused on the man.  Gibbs broke the silence with, “Tops like you make me sick.”

 

Startled, John Doe replied, “What? How do you know I’m a top? Did you find out who I am? Do you know?” Gibbs could tell he was trying to sound excited and relieved, but it came through much more as anxious and worried.

 

Gibbs wouldn’t give the man any sort of reassurance by answering immediately. With two fingers, he tapped the folder where it lay. And he maintained eye contact with John Doe as if this were some perverse, elaborate staring contest where the first to look away lost. Even if it were, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not one willing to lose. “Let me tell you a few things I know,” said Gibbs. “First, that uniform you were found in was yours, even though you’re not enlisted. Second, Officer Bradley was pumped full of chemicals that you, yourself also had in your blood. Third, there’s a man I know named Anthony DiNozzo.”

 

This last statement seemed to take the man by surprise, which made Gibbs smile as he continued, “He’s a sub and a damn good agent. But yesterday he said to me, ‘You can’t trust a top.’ And that got me thinking. What if a sub trusted his top too much? What if he trusted the wrong top? And that would be you.”

 

Even the bossiest of tops would feel cornered by a Gibbs like this. But John Doe swallowed and that bob of his Adams apple told Gibbs he was on the right track. Gibbs continued, “Say a sub was taken with such a top—someone who promised him the world, a collar, a plate, a happy ending, whatever—in exchange for a small, easy-to-get-to piece of information or two. And a uniform. Maybe the top would claim it was some sort of game—something kinky for the bedroom, part of his dynamic. Or maybe he needed it to get at more secrets or to throw NCIS agents off the scent.”

 

The man swallowed again and Gibbs’ stomach jumped. He has this guy’s number all right. It had been so easy—how had he not seen this before? How had he not sensed it from the beginning?

 

When John Doe responded, he tried to sound calm. But it was more like a wounded animal, lashing out defensively, with his last hope. “That’s not me. And even if I did something, how could I know? I can’t remember a thing. I don’t know who that dead guy was or if he even knew me.”

 

“It all comes back to trust,” Gibbs continued. “And DiNozzo said it: you can’t trust a top. But it seems like you’re the kind of top who wouldn’t be able to trust a sub, either. And yours was having doubts. I bet he was smart and figured you out. He probably refused to take the injection.”

 

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” The man’s tone was now a cold monotone.

 

“You would have had to force him, though I bet he liked force. As long as his top didn’t get too carried away to take it a little too far.” From beneath the file Gibbs pulled out Ducky’s report. “According to Dr. Mallard, the injuries on the victim were inflicted before he died. Many are defensive wounds, indicating he was fighting someone off. But it was the injection he was given that ultimately killed him.” Gibbs leaned forward a little more. “I wonder if you knew that was a possibility. But my guess is that you’re the kind of top who would knowingly risk his sub’s well-being to get what he wants.” Gibbs was disgusted at the thought. It went against everything he was, everything he cherished about being a top. Hell, taking advantage of someone like that went against human nature. “Either way, it’s abuse and murder.” Gibbs drew back, folding his arms over his chest. “I’ve met a lot of people—tops and subs alike. And it really does come down to trust. If you can’t trust tops and can’t trust subs… maybe you can’t trust yourself.”

 

Gibbs saw the man stiffen and he knew—he absolutely knew—that he had him now.

 

“You used Senior Chief Petty Officer Bruce Bradley to get close to whatever secrets you wanted. You used him for your little games of power. And when he was no longer of use, you got rid of him. But to ensure you would get away with it, you used something he had stolen from the labs—Project Sleepwalker. With it, even you wouldn’t remember committing any crimes and NCIS wouldn’t be able to figure out who you were. Bradley’s murder would become a cold case and you would get away free and clear once you regained your memory and your freedom.” Gibbs saw a whole range of emotions in the man’s eyes, starting with anger and finally ending with fear.

 

The man swallowed again and leaned back in his chair, subconsciously trying to get further away from Gibbs. “Seems all you’ve got is a theory.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be in there if I didn’t have proof.” Gibbs reached for the folder and pulled out a series of headshots Tony had printed out for him. Like looking into a time machine, it was John Doe over the course of the past ten years in a half dozen photographs. And while he might have shorter hair in one or a beard in another, it was definitely him and the fingerprints were undeniable matches. “Here’s you from an unsolved case down in Miami last year involving a murdered police officer. Here’s you found by the body of a dead Air Force pilot. Here’s a much younger you—seven years ago—connected to a dead bank security guard. In every single case, you were found at the scene of the crime with amnesia and everyone bought it. Except last time…” Gibbs tapped a finger by a photo. “The LAPD got suspicious and took the murder of one of their own personally. Can’t say I blame them. They interrogated you, and you almost cracked. You let a few things slip, and you were forced to run before they worked it out. You weren’t going to take any chances this time.”

 

“It’s all just… a coincidence. Someone’s playing a sick joke on me, following me around, killing people, hitting me over the head perhaps. I have amnesia.”

 

“No you don’t, Raymond Jones. What you have is the right to remain silent…”

 

 

*

Part 15

 

“hehh-IHKTchh!” Tony caught the sneeze in the handkerchief, but that only partially muffled the sound filling the otherwise quite observation room.

 

“You just had to sneeze *now?*” Kate asked, Tony’s sneezing having driven away all the drama and tension their boss had just spent the last few minutes building to.

 

“S-sorry, Kate. I can’t help… ihhhh… ih-Tshh! Heh-Sheshhh!”

 

“God, Tony. Don’t you ever stop?”

 

Tony snuffled into the thick hanky, shaking his head. “This cold’s as tenacious as I am.”

 

“That’s the truth,” Kate muttered, but she smiled as she said it.

 

Through the other side of the one-way mirror, Kate and Tony stood watching their boss reason the man into a confession.

 

The man gave a start at the sound of his name. Raymond Jones—formerly John Doe--- looked anxious as his eyes darted to the door then toward Gibbs.  “My rights?” the man asked. “What do you mean you’re charging me?” He leaned forward. “I don’t remember doing anything, Agent Gibbs.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t. See, the difference between you and me is that I trust my team and they trust me. And because they do, they work hard for me. They’re brave and smart and loyal. And that’s something a top like you will never understand. Control isn’t about using other people, it’s about knowing when to let them go and trust them to come through for you in the end.”

 

Tony got the chills at that, sure it had nothing to do with a fever. He rubbed the hanky at his nose preemptively, wanting to hear as much of the interrogation as possible, even though right now it was just Gibbs staring down a man who supposedly had no clue what Gibbs was talking about.

 

Gibbs gestured toward the spread of photographs. “Though maybe it’s better you don’t learn that lesson yet. We’ve got a huge stack of unsolved cases here with your name on them now. You’ve got a lot to pay for.”

 

Worry was no longer on Raymond’s face. Instead, he looked cocky. And he laughed. “All right, so you found me out. But there’s something you need to learn about: reading people their rights at the *beginning* of questioning. I did it, sure. I did all of it. But you didn’t tell me I had the right to remain silent before you started questioning me.”

 

Gibbs lunged forward, slamming his hands down at the table. “That’s because I haven’t asked you a single question yet.”

 

Tony chuckled. If this guy knew anything, he would have known better than to go up against Gibbs in an interrogation. The man was amazing.

 

But the chuckling hurt Tony’s throat, and he coughed and snuffled into the handkerchief. There was so much coughing he worried maybe he would be heard in the other room. So he ducked out and stumbled down the hallway. This was really no good, this doubling over with coughs, this inability to catch his breath.

 

He felt a hand on his back and, knowing immediately that it wasn’t Kate’s, leaned back into the touch he craved just a little more. Gradually, the coughs let up, and he blew his nose to relieve some additional congestion. “I think… I should go home,” Tony said at last, looking over his shoulder at Gibbs. He’d come a long way from trying to hide his sniffles.  Gibbs trusted him to be honest about how he felt now, and he wouldn’t let Gibbs down. “Any—“ He stopped to cough again and clear his throat before trying again. “Any hope of you coming with me? Heh-Ihtchhh! Sniff! Sniff! I’ll make it worth your while, Bossman.”

 

Tony saw Gibbs’ blue eyes sparkle and something caught in his chest. He didn’t want to hear the answer, knowing it would be a ‘no’. It just wasn’t what Gibbs was about. Gibbs wanted good work and obedience and trust. That was enough for him. Gibbs claimed he never wanted sex or love from his collared subs. But Tony still put on his wide, charming smile, hoping one day Gibbs would wake up and realize he wanted Tony, realize he had been sleepwalking this whole time.