Hidden In Not So Plain Sight (NCIS, Tony)

[Wolfwings22]

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted and I’ve recently been taking part in Sicktember and I thought I would post one of my entries and may post some others later. It’s older NCIS like season 2, but that’s kinda my favorite Tony and Gibbs moments and thought I would write another fic post the SWAK episode. A lot of sick Tony and parental Gibbs in his own way. I hope you all like it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Tony does his best to hide his sickness from his boss, but Gibbs isn’t having it.

 

 

 

    The walk into the bullpen felt so much longer than ever before. Each step felt as though it was bringing Tony further and further from his destination. Heaviness weighed throughout his body, seeping into his bones and making every movement slightly uncomfortable. There was also the weird prickling along his skin and the shivers that wouldn’t leave him alone. He had done his best to choke down a dose of DayQuil before he left his apartment, though it didn’t appear to be doing him any good.

 

    Tony almost made it to his desk when he was forced to stop dead and turn his head harshly to the side, thumb and forefinger pinched around his nose. His head bobbed down five times in rapid succession until he felt as though he was done. He surfaced with a liquid sniffle and rubbed a finger under his nose as discretely as possible as he finished the rest of his trip to his desk, setting his backpack down hard and slumping into his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the pounding from an approaching headache impossible to ignore. It was going to turn into a full blown sinus headache at this rate, especially if he had to keep pretending that he okay at work. Yep, he was in for a long day.

 

    “Tony, are you okay?”

 

    Tony’s head immediately snapped up when he heard McGee’s voice. He was quick to look to the side to see Tim looking at him curiously in the way that he so often did.

 

    “I’m fine, McGoo. Did you finish those reports from last week?”

 

    “Uh…s-still working on them. I’ll finish those up now.”

 

    “Best do so before Gibbs shows up,” Tony continued as he turned to his own computer and ducked his head down until he was practically laying on the keyboard. The effort to remain upright was too much as two screens began to float in front of his vision. He blinked his eyes quickly in an effort to dislodge it, the back of his hand coming to press on his temple. He really should’ve really taken a sick day.

 

    Tony wasn’t even sure how long he had been sitting like that when a familiar voice rang through the bullpen.

 

    “We have a dead Marine!”

 

    Tony’s head snapped up at hearing his boss’s voice, blinking the tiredness from his eyes. “Grab our gear, Boss?”

 

    Gibbs rounded the corner with purpose, already on his way to the elevator.

 

    “Is that what I said,” Gibbs flashed with a stern look at his senior field agent. “This one is already with Ducky down at the morgue.”

 

    “Already,” McGee asked with a confused look to Tony.

 

    “We’re taking over this case from the FBI. Do you have any other questions or can we get on this,” Gibbs called over his shoulder as he stood in front of the elevator doors.

 

    McGee was already up and rushing after him, though Tony struggled to match the same intensity. He ran a hand over his face as he tensed his muscles as he tried to stand. He momentarily swayed, hand reaching out to grab the corner of his desk as stars danced across his vision. He gave his head a firm shake before he followed, doing his best not to shiver. He fell in behind McGee just as the elevator door opened. However while Gibbs and McGee rushed forward, it took Tony a few more moments to realize what he was doing. He quickly followed suit and tucked himself in the corner of the elevator as his nose started to tickle.

 

    Gibbs was the first to notice Tony’s lack of chattiness, though before he could ask, Tony’s head ducked down toward his chest as he stifled another fit of three. Although relatively silent, the elevator was echoey and they were in such close proximity that it was difficult not to notice. Tony longed for the other two not to say anything, discretely rubbing at his nose as stifling had done him no favors for his sinus headache.

 

    “Bless you,” McGee offered.

 

    Tony curled his lip in distain. He could strangle that man if he could. Why had he even said anything as now Gibbs was staring at him with a mixture of distain and worry. Tony had seen that look so many times before, and even though it was rarely directed at him, Tony hated seeing that look.

 

    “Thanks,” Tony chirped. “Must be dusty in here or something.”

 

    McGee opened his mouth to protest, but when Tony shot him a glare of his own, he quickly quieted and looked to the floor. Crisis averted, for now.

 

    The elevator pinged as the door slid open. Gibbs slipped out first with McGee hot on his heels. Tony took a little more effort to push off the corner of the elevator that he had been leaning on to follow the other two into the morgue. He mentally prepared himself for the change in temperature, but he was still ill prepared when the doors opened and he was met with much cooler temperatures. His teeth started to chatter while sweat ran down his back. It was an odd combination, and one that Tony had growing to hate as the day progressed.

 

    “What you got for me, Dusky?”

 

    The medical examiner lifted his head from where he had been working on the autopsy of a man. “Ah, Jethro, so good of you to join us.” He peered past Gibbs to McGee and Tony. “And you’ve brought your team as well. Gather round and let me tell this man’s story.”

 

    McGee curiously stepped closer while Tony took a step to the side. The last thing he wanted to see was an autopsy right now when his stomach had been iffy all morning. He had choked down half a coffee before he realized that was a terrible idea, and the smells combined with whatever Ducky was saying was a surefire combination to cause something disastrous to happen. He hoped no one would call him on it as he was usually cracking jokes right about now. Now here he was, hands tucked into his pockets to conserve warmth while he pleaded with himself that his nose wouldn’t start dripping again like it had done on his way to work.

 

    Tony tried to pay attention to what Ducky was saying, he really did, but he zoned out when Ducky started rambling on about metabolic rates and what was found in the Marine’s stomach as he also had his liver out and weighed, Tony began to feel a little lightheaded. He tried to keep back as much as he could, hardly aware that he started swaying on the spot. Maybe now was the time to excuse himself.

 

    He was just about to when his sinuses had other ideas. Sharply, he turned on his heel and walked back towards the door. He couldn’t tell if anyone noticed, just hoped not as he bobbed forward into his thumb and forefinger. This was a fit of seven, to which was much more harder to stifle completely silently. When he surfaced he had to sniffle a few times to clear himself out, worried that the congestion would begin to show in his voice he spoke.

 

    Tony waisted no time in heading back to the rest of his team, trying to put on a face so no one questioned in. If only he could be that lucky.

 

    “Bless you, Anthony,” Ducky offered with a pleasant smile when Tony rejoined them.

 

    Tony struggled not to drop his gaze, head dipping in a slight nod of acknowledgement. He could feel Gibbs’s gaze boring into him, as if lasers were being burned into his skin. He could practically feel the judgmental look that his boss was giving him, no matter the intention behind it.

 

    “Continue, Duck,” Gibbs stated after a few moments of silence.

 

    “Right, well, as you can see from the state of this man’s liver, he is in an advanced state of cirrhosis. My best guess would be due to alcohol consumption, though to have a liver this effected at his age would mean that this young man would’ve had to have a serious alcohol dependency at such a young age due to the state of his liver,” Ducky explained.

 

    “How long does it take this much damage to be done?”

 

    “Well, Jethro, on average it takes about ten years of serious alcoholism to cause this much damage.”

 

    “And was this his cause of death?”

    

    Ducky shook his head. “Oh, heavens no. I believe the blunt force trauma to his abdomen did that. Whatever the object, his attacker was able to do enough damage to rupture his spleen. While that may not be a death sentence on his own, he wasn’t found until approximately six hours later. His death would’ve been drawn out and painful.”

 

    Gibbs hummed to himself as he hovered above the Marine laying on Ducky’s table. His fingers curled into the edge of the table, face giving away nothing, though Tony had known him long enough to know when he was contemplating something. Alcoholism wasn’t something that they discussed often when it came to service members, however all of them knew the statistics. Tony was grateful that McGee didn’t feel the need to point it out.

 

    “What object could’ve caused that wound, Duck.”

    

    Ducky sighed as he leaned over the young Marine. “It would’ve been rounded and heavy, but not enough to fully pierce the skin. We will have to consult with Miss Abby to determine what object could’ve done this.”

 

    “As for the his bloodwork, I’ve sent that to her as well to make sure there’s nothing else we should know about it. As for—“

 

    Tony let out a sudden gasp as he turned away and was forced to duck into the crook of his arm, pure instinct taking over as he hadn’t been anticipating needing to sneeze again so soon. A ragged pant rattled in his chest as he bowed forward. “Hishs! Hishs! Hishs! Hishsh! Hish! Hishsh! Hishs! Hiscsh! Hishs!”

 

    Tony surfaced with a heavy snuffle, almost blushing at the wetness. He was forced to rub his nose dry with the back of his hand, well aware that all eyes were on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had that impressive of a fit, though he also had spent the entire morning suppressing them, so he couldn’t exactly blame his body for misbehaving now.

 

    “My goodness, bless you,” Ducky exclaimed before the other two could speak.

 

    Tony attempted to clear his throat, which only led to him doubling over into a fit of coughs. This time he had to lean against one of the other examination tables to keep himself upright, brow knit in concentration. Whatever conversation was about to ensue was one that he could never prepare to have.

    

    “McGee, check in on Abby and see where she is on the bloodwork. DiNozzo, over here.”

 

    McGee shot Tony a sympathetic glance as he breezed right by him, too new on the team to question whatever was going on. Tony didn’t blame him, there was no arguing with Gibbs when he held that tone. He could bullshit around, but even Tony knew there wasn’t much that could be done when Gibbs made up his mind.

 

    Tony’s shoulders slumped as he padded over while Ducky peeled off his gloves and apron before making his way over to the sink to vigorously wash his hands.

 

    “Boss, I can explain,” Tony began feebly, growing quiet as Gibbs lifted his hand to stop him.

 

    “Do you have a fever?”

 

    “Do I what, Boss?”

 

    Before Tony could even react to what was happening, Gibbs reached out and pressed the back of his hand on Tony’s forehead. Tony stood rigidly still, hardly breathing for fear that he would cough in Gibbs’s face. The only thing that he was used to Gibbs doing with his head was a headslap, and although this was much preferred, it still sent a hint of unease through his system.

 

    Gibbs dropped his hand and frowned. “You’re certainly warm. What the hell were you thinking coming in while sick?”

 

    Tony fumbled for words, mouth opening and yet no sound came out. He was never left speechless, ever, yet any excuse he came up with in his mind, his boss would break down without hesitation. All he could do was shrug and wait for the verbal berating that he was about to receive after trying to pull one over on Gibbs, especially after his bout with Y-pestis. That was a conversation that had been discussed before, but it seemed Tony was even more stubborn than expected when it came to any illness.

 

    “Alright, Anthony, jump up on this bed for me,” Ducky broke in as he stood next to an unoccupied table with his medical bag used for his living patients right beside him. That may not have been his trade of choice, but Ducky was still a doctor and Gibbs trusted what he said explicitly with any patient—living or dead.

 

    Tony didn’t see any point in arguing. He drug his feet as he came in front of the table and jumped up, ignoring the soreness of his muscles. If anyone asked, he would say that he worked out that morning as having body aches due to fever was way worse.

 

    “How long have you had that soreness,” Ducky asked as he rested a hand on Tony’s knee and gave it a small squeeze.

 

    Tony winced at the touch. “Just this morning. It kinda snuck up on me.”

 

    Ducky hummed to himself and lifted his hands to hover them around Tony’s throat. “My hands may be a little cold, dear boy. I apologize in advance.” Gingerly, Ducky felt on either side of Tony’s throat, feeling for swollen areas. His thumb jabbed lightly at Tony’s Adam’s apple, with Tony wrenching to the side to cough painfully so not to accidentally cough on Ducky. The more Tony coughed, the more Ducky frowned at what he heard. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

 

    “It’s not pneumonia, is it,” Gibbs asked, an edge to his voice.

 

    Ducky hummed to himself and pulled out a stethoscope from his medical bag. He attached the nodes into his ear while he pressed the edge against his palm to warm it. When he rested it on Tony’s exposed chest after Tony unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, Tony couldn’t help but shiver. He breathed normally until Ducky moved to his back, the cool stethoscope moving lightly over his well muscled back. He did his best to breathe in deeply, but it often led to a cough, which is what happened to Tony. Ducky took a step back as Tony continued to cough, harsh hacks that left his eyes watering and throat raw. He could practically feel the worried looks both Ducky and Gibbs were exchanging, and wanted nothing more than to excuse himself and go home just so that he didn’t have to see those concerned looks directed at him again.

 

    “Not pneumonia, yet, though I am willing to bet you have a mild case of bronchitis. Those lungs of yours can’t handle nearly as much as everyone else’s, I’m afraid,” Ducky pointed out carefully.

 

    Tony glared in the medical examiner’s direction. “It’s just a cold! I can still do my job.”

 

    “No one is saying you can’t,” Ducky interrupted before Gibbs could. “However, you don’t need to. Must I remind you what can happen if illnesses like this go untreated for too long with your medical history?”

 

    “No,” Tony muttered against his chest.

 

    “Then act like it.” Tony grunted as he felt Gibbs’s hand collide with the back of his head. It was lighter than normal, though he still made a show of ducking forward and grimacing in distain. “I need my Senior Field Agent to be on top of things or I’m going to have to replace you with McGee.”

 

    Tony lifted his eyes, widening as he looked at his boss. “You wouldn’t.”

 

    “Don’t try me, DiNozzo.”

 

    Tony clamped his mouth shut and looked down, sniffling as he rubbed the cuff of his shirt sleeve against his nose. It wasn’t until he heard Ducky clear his throat that he saw the medical examiner holding a box of tissues out to him. Humiliation rolled off of Tony in waves as he took it hesitantly, already pulling a handful out before he could set the box on his lap. He didn’t even attempt to blow, only rubbed his nose dry as that was all that he was comfortable with. He could still hardly take in a breath through his nose, pressure building not only through his sinuses, but behind his eyes as well.

 

    “I want you to start using that inhaler Dr. Pitt gave you twice a day until you’ve fully recovered. Keep taking over the counter cold medicine, if you haven’t already around the clock. Fluids and rest will be your best friend for the next week. You also must go to the hospital immediately if you have trouble breathing.”

 

    “Week?! Boss, I-I can’t take off a week,” Tony protested.

 

    “You have plenty of sicktime and PTO. You’ll do as Ducky says.”

 

    Tony hung his head, fingers rubbing the thin tissues between his fingers until they started to peel apart. Gibbs couldn’t be serious about taking a whole week. He could down some DayQuil and be fine to work as he had done plenty of times before. He didn’t treat anyone else like that when they were sick. Why did it always have to be him held to a different standard?

 

    “And if you don’t start feeling better in a couple days you are to make an appointment with Dr. Pitt. He’ll want to keep an eye on those lungs,” Ducky continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

 

    “That really won’t be necessary.”

 

    “Don’t make me drag you there right now, DiNozzo.”

 

    Deep down Tony knew that his boss’s comments were only concerned about his wellbeing, but that didn’t make him feel any better. This is exactly what he had been hoping to avoid, yet here he was, center of attention at the one time he didn’t want to be, when there was a case that needed solving. He could work through it just like anyone else—he was sure of it—but there was no way that Ducky or Gibbs would allow him now.

 

    “Boss, I….” Tony instantly trailed off and grabbed a handful of tissues to press against his now twitching nostrils. “Hishs! Hish! Hish! Hish! Hishsh! Hiscsh! Hishsh! Hishsh!” Tony was forced to blow his nose after the fit, fearful if he didn’t that it would just continue. He’d much rather not be a spectacle in this way if he could help it, though it seemed like his body had other plans.

 

    “Bless you,” Gibbs murmured.

 

    Tony coughed wetly into the now damp tissues, whatever strength he had left completely ebbing free. “Thanks, Boss.”

 

    “Do I have to escort you home myself, or can I trust you can make it there on your own?”

 

    Neither sounded like a preferred option if Tony was being honest with himself, but staying wasn’t an option either. Either he could do things the easy way or the hard way according to Gibbs, and he didn’t have it in him to do the hard way.

 

    “Yes, Boss.”

 

    Gibbs eyed him carefully, in the way that he often looked at Abby. Tony had known Gibbs long enough to know that he showed concern in different ways. To the outsider it wouldn’t make sense, but Tony could pick it up easily by now. Gibbs would never quite voice his concern like everyone else, and Tony had given up expecting him to, though this look conveyed enough to let Tony know exactly what the older man was thinking.

 

    “Then go, and I better not see you back until next week at the earliest.”

 

    Tony nodded as he slid off the cold metal table and began to button up the top half of his shirt. A chill traveled down his spine as he fixed Gibbs with a knowing look. He ducked away almost immediately as he shuffled towards the door to the morgue.

 

    “I’ll be by later to drop somethings off. Try to be decent when I get there.”

 

    Tony stopped and looked over his shoulder, almost stunned at what he had just heard. His mouth went to form a sarcastic joke, but when he realized that Gibbs wasn’t kidding, he stopped. All he could managed was a small nod while he took in a heavy swallow. He willed himself not to begin coughing as he nodded once more to Gibbs and slipped out of the morgue, coughing harshly when he arrived at the elevator doors.

 

    Gibbs shook his head as he heard the coughing, turning to see Ducky eyeing him worriedly. “If you have something to say, Duck, just say it.”

 

    “He looks up to you,” Ducky replied.

 

    Gibbs nodded. “I know that.”

 

    “And he’s trying to earn your favor since he started.”

 

    “What are you trying to get at?”

 

    Ducky set down his stethoscope in his medical bag before crossing his arms over his chest. “I just mean he does all this, pushes himself, for you. Don’t lose sight of that when you look in on him.”

 

    “I won’t, Duck.”

 

    Ducky nodded slowly, hand raised to motion to the door. “You had better run along after Timothy. Hopefully he can stay out of trouble without Tony.”

 

    It was clear that Gibbs wanted to say more, and perhaps would have if Ducky didn’t immediately go back to work as normal. He pull on a new pair of surgical gloves and another gown, and so whatever Gibbs had wanted to say faded. He headed back to the doors of the morgue, leaving Ducky to his work.

 

    “Don’t mind him,” Ducky whispered to the Marine on his examination table. “He becomes a little harsher when there’s something wrong with one of his agents, especially dear Anthony. He may no admit it, but he cares deeply for that boy. I just hope he doesn’t work him too hard. Although, I suppose only time will tell.”

 

    The End

[solitaire-au]

Aww, this was so sweet and your characterisation was spot on! 💕