A Green Day
Tony groaned. Waking up was not a pleasant experience.
"DiNozzo, you alive?" Gibbs sounded way too sober, not to mentioned amused.
"Haven't decided yet," Tony didn't dare open his eyes. The light coming through the skin of his eyelids was causing enough pain the way it was. "There's a gorilla jumping up and down on my head; can you do something about that?"
He felt Gibbs sit on the bed next to him. "A gorilla? Don't you mean a leprechaun?"
It hurt like hell, but Tony slit one eyelid open enough to glare at the other man. "Fine, kick me when I'm down."
Gibbs' chuckle was low and dirty. "I take it that a 'top of the mornin' to you' would not be welcome."
"Do it and die," Tony closed his eye again. He ignored the fact that he'd greeted Gibbs just that way the morning before, only Tony had used an Irish brogue and some very lewd puns about his pot of gold.
"What I can't figure out," Gibbs was apparently in the rare mood for conversation, "is why someone with a last name like DiNozzo celebrates St. Patrick's Day so hard."
"You kidding?" Tony made a sacrifice and not only opened both eyes, but also turned his head a little in order to look at Gibbs in disbelief. "Green beer, corned beef and pinching people. What's not to like? Besides, everybody's Irish on St. Paddy's Day."
"That's exactly what you said to Director Vance," Gibbs told him. "Right before you tried to pinch his ass for not wearing green."
Tony gulped. "I didn't."
"Oh, you did," Gibbs assured him. "Luckily, you remembered not to pull that trick on Ziva this year."
It was small consolation, although Tony was relieved not to come out of St. Patrick's Day with a black eye. Ziva had not taken well to being pinched because she wasn't wearing green.
D*mn Abby and her insistence that they have a team building outing to a bar to celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
"Are you mad?" Tony didn't particularly care if Vance was mad or not. Well, he cared, but not in an immediate way.
"No, I'm not mad," Gibbs leaned and kissed him, not even grimacing at Tony's morning-after breath. "Leon could use a couple of good pinches."
"Good," Tony wiggled a little, partly in relief, but also because other parts of his body were making their needs known.
"If you piss in my bed, though, I'm gonna be cranky," Gibbs warned him. "Go take care of it and come out to the kitchen. I've got something for that hangover of yours."
"But I hurt all over, couldn't you bring it here?" Tony whined.
Gibbs patted him on the hip before getting up. "Trust me, DiNozzo, you do not want me to call Ducky to come put a catheter in you. Get up and get moving; you'll feel better."
"Says you," Tony muttered, but he climbed out of bed. Once upright, he swayed a little, but steadied himself on the wall. Gibbs watched him until was able to shuffle himself into the bathroom.
Once inside the small room, Tony turned the light on, grimacing as it caused his headache to flair up. In the process of stepping to the toilet to take care of matters, Tony caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Someone had stripped him to his boxers and a flash of red caught his eye. Tony turned so he could see better and there, among the green shamrocks that adorned the fabric, was one bright red lip print.
"Abby," Tony muttered. He recognized that shade of lipstick. Besides, if it had been anyone else planting one on his ass, Gibbs would not be so calm. Tony winced, though, thinking about why Abby would have had access to it in the first place.
"Next year, we're taking it easy," Tony told the scruffy man in the mirror. "No getting plastered."
Even his reflection didn't believe him.
Tony shuffled over to the toilet and started to empty his bladder. He held himself steady with one arm on the wall, the relief as the pressure eased making him sigh. Everything was fine until he got a good look at what was coming out of his body.
"Gibbs!" In his panic, Tony forgot that he had the mother of all hangovers and shouted for his lover, heedless of his throbbing head.
Gibbs came in a dead run. "What's the matter?"
Tony was beyond words and just frantically waved a hand towards the bowl. Gibbs took a look in and dropped his head in an exaggerated gesture of relief.
"DiNozzo," when Gibbs looked up, there was a distinct twinkle in his eye. "I think you forgot that if it was green goin' in, then it's bound to be green comin' out."
In his diminished state, it took Tony a moment to figure out what Gibbs was saying. When he did, he swallowed hard. "And green beer seemed like a good idea last night."
"I'm sure it did," Gibbs let his grin break free and leaned towards Tony.
Tony staved him off with an upheld hand. "Gibbs-smacking me when I have a hangover is grounds for divorce."
Gibbs chuckled, but didn't let Tony deter him. Instead of smacking Tony on the back of the head, however, he simply placed a chaste kiss on Tony's temple. "Go back to bed when you're done here and I'll bring you something."
It didn't take long for Tony to finish his business and make his careful way back to the bed, being extra sure not to jar his abused body. As he settled back under the covers, the familiar scent of Gibbs surrounded him and, despite his misery, Tony smiled.
Green beer? Not such a good idea. His place in Gibbs' bed? Priceless. Tony might not be Irish, but he seemed to have some of their luck after all.
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