Gigi Sinclair

"So," Tony said, as Gibbs held the newspaper at arm's length and squinted at the baseball schedule. Tony knew it was pure vanity that kept Gibbs from getting glasses but as a contact-lens wearer himself, Tony couldn't say too much about that.

He could leave laser eye surgery pamphlets on Gibbs's desk, though, and did every chance he got.

"No," Gibbs replied, turning a page.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I know the tone."

Tony took a mouthful of Fruit Loops from the box he'd sneaked over and left at Gibbs's place. Mornings were hard enough without having to face them with a bowl of All-Bran and some esophagus-searing coffee as your only sustenance. "I was thinking," Tony continued, swallowing, "About the video tripod."

"No," Gibbs repeated, calmly. "Damn, the Generals lost again."

"Gibbs, come on." Tony resisted the urge to push down Gibbs's newspaper and instead spoke to the grinning little girl with the kitten on the front page. "I need something to keep me warm when you're off serving your one weekend a month."

"Get an electric blanket."

"It'll spice up our sex life."

That, at least, got Gibbs to look over the top of the paper, although the expression wasn't exactly what Tony had been hoping for. More "irritated annoyance" than "intrigued agreement." "You want spice? Try waiting for me for once. Last time, I didn't even make it into the bedroom."

That was low. "Gibbs, just because I'm a little...quicker off the mark than you is no reason to get personal. Anyway, that was your fault for doing that tongue thing in the hall then taking forever in the goddamn bathroom. If you'd cut down on the coffee..."

Gibbs folded the newspaper and placed it neatly on the table, taking another swig from his latest cup. "This is personal, Tony. One man's home porn is exhibit A in another man's termination hearing."

Tony sighed, but he couldn't argue. "I guess." It was disappointing, though. He'd only ever made one home movie, with some girl he'd dated for three weeks in college and never seen again, but he'd watched it until the tape wore out. He'd kept his Beta VCR for years expressly for that purpose. "But I do miss you." The reserves were a big part of Gibbs's life, second only to the job, but Tony hated them. He didn't know what he'd do if Gibbs was ever sent overseas. End up like Laura Rowans, probably, having meaningless cybersex with another HotJugs24, or equally attractive equivalent.

"When I'm away, or when I'm in the bathroom?" Gibbs asked. Tony made a face, shovelling in another spoonful of cereal as Gibbs went for a refill. He bent down and kissed Tony's cheek as he passed, a small, unexpected gesture which made Tony feel better than he'd ever admit, even to Gibbs.

***

"Best weekend of the month," Kate said as she turned off her computer. "As long as no one decides to take out a platoon of drunken Marines before Monday morning."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. It was Gibbs's weekend with the reserves, which meant he was gone until Sunday evening. Which meant Tony could do whatever he wanted, all weekend. Which was really, really great. Really.

"What's the matter?" Kate asked. "Cindi-with-an-I tell you she had to wash her hair?"

"No, we're still on," Tony played along automatically. "It's just so hard juggling her and Karyn-with-a-Y, and then Donna the flight attendant's in town for a couple of days..."

"You do know there's no secret decoder ring if you collect them all, right?"

Tony snorted. "Of course not, Kate." He stood up, pulling on his jacket. "I'm holding out for the X-ray glasses. They'll make meetings with Fournell a lot more interesting."

Kate laughed, then obviously hated herself for it. His work done, Tony pushed the button for the elevator.

He thought about going to Gibbs's place, but that seemed a little needy, not to mention borderline obsessive. Anyway, the better TV was still at Tony's apartment, despite Tony's many subtle, and less subtle, hints about the entertainment value of watching a man sand a boat.

As he unlocked his front door, Tony nearly tripped over an envelope on the inside mat. Someone had clearly pushed it under the door, which was why it wasn't addressed. Probably his elderly would-be vigilante neighbours wanting to mount a campaign against the pot-smoking guy down the hall.

Tony tore open the envelope, took out the folded paper inside, and kept it in one hand as he rifled in the freezer for something vaguely edible. He was about to throw a box of ravioli into the microwave when he actually looked at the paper in his hand. The box fell onto his foot, but Tony was too stunned to care.

The single sheet of paper contained two colour-printed photographs, obviously taken with a digital camera. One was an explicit shot of a very familiar, very interested penis; the other was of a half-open bathroom door. The typed message with it was brief: "Keep yourself warm."

It was nothing that could be traced. Tony was sure Gibbs had erased all evidence of the pictures from whatever computer he'd downloaded them onto, and possibly destroyed the camera, too. Tony laughed, wondering when Gibbs had taken the photos. And when, exactly, he'd become so technologically adept.

It wasn't until later, when the pictures were stuck to Tony's fridge with insurance-company magnets and he was eating his microwaved ravioli, that Tony wondered if Abby had lent a little tech support, and if she had anything else to lend that might make Sunday night a little more interesting. After all, he thought, if he couldn't make a video record, he could at least make sure the memories would last.