The Senior Rule by Rose Malmaison

Word Count: 5,000

Chapters: 2
Category: Slash
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Main Characters: Anthony DiNozzo, Jethro Gibbs, DiNozzo Sr., Abby, McGee, Ducky, Palmer
Rating: PG-13

Written for: the 2019 NCIS Advent Challenge
Themes: Family or Unexpected guests/ Holiday lights/ Mistletoe/ Holiday beverages/ Snow/ Holiday dinner or party.

Summary: Senior barges into Gibbs' home on Christmas Eve, as he and Tony are preparing for a party, but Tony, who has been injured, isn't feeling the love. Jethro and the team to the rescue.

Dedicated to: Jacie for all her hard work with challenges and for being a great beta!

Also on AO3

Tags: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas party, snowing, party, things do not go as planned, established relationship, injury, DiNozzo Senior, Gibbs vs. Senior, Gibbs' house, team as family, Ducky, Abby, McGee, Palmer, minor surgery at home, hurt!Tony, protective!Gibbs, bad!Senior, implied/referenced child abuse and rape, hurt/comfort

Note: This was written for the 2019 NCIS Advent Challenge but, as I wasn't able to write during December, I took advantage of the 'amnesty' day - and submitted this on January 1, 2020. You'll see I covered several of the daily prompts all in this short fic, holiday lights, snow, holiday party, etc. I hope you enjoy it!

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CHAPTER 1 - Let There Be Light

Rule #1225 aka The Senior Rule: Do not allow Anthony DiNozzo Sr. into our house, for any reason.

Stringing Christmas lights along the front porch roof was usually Jethro's job, but a fresh snowfall had dumped a foot of powdery snow across the DC area. Shoveling the drive and front path took precedence over decorating. As soon as he had cleared away the snow, Jethro went inside to check on the progress of the large stuffed turkey he was roasting for their Christmas Eve dinner party.

So, while Jethro was in the kitchen putting last-minute touches to the holiday dinner, Tony decided to go outside and put up the lights, all on his own. He wanted to do it as a surprise for Jethro, so he called out he had some gifts to wrap and would be upstairs, and instead grabbed his coat and gloves, and snuck out the front. He untangled the string of multi-colored lights, and tested them prior to climbing the ladder. A dozen clips for attaching the string of lights to the edge of the roof nestled safely in his pocket.

It had started snowing again – just small, delicate flakes that wouldn't amount to anything, according to the weatherman – but everyone confirmed they were coming over to celebrate Christmas Eve at Tony and Jethro's home in Alexandria. This was their first party since they'd come out as a couple – just to their friends – and Tony could tell that Jethro was looking forward to playing host.

They were supplying a stuffed roast turkey along with a selection of wine and other holiday beverages, and the guests were bringing side dishes, desserts and drinks of their choice. Abby and Jimmy had come over that morning and spent an hour putting up decorations in the living and dining rooms. They'd nudged each other and giggled over a couple of well-placed mistletoe sprigs. So, all that was left to do was hang the outside lights. How hard could it be?

Well, it would be easy for someone fit and in good health. Unfortunately, as Tony discovered once he was standing on the ladder ten feet above the ground, that he was not in good enough shape to do this. Every time he reached out to secure the lights to the roof, he felt a twinge in his right side. He did his best to ignore it. He had to get this done.

Tony wanted to prove to Jethro that he was ready to return to work in the new year. He needed to do this. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it when his partner took care of him, but the incessant fussing had become increasingly annoying. Although he'd tried to be patient, Tony had snapped at Jethro that morning when he'd tried to assist him with dressing. Okay, so maybe bending over and tying his shoes was still problematic, but that's why they made loafers.

He was determined to prove he could function just fine without someone shadowing his every move. Jethro watched him like a hawk, as if he expected him to fall flat on his face when doing something simple like reaching for the TV remote. But once Tony had climbed the ladder, with its rungs made slippery with a coating of snow, he got the uneasy feeling that maybe this was not his brightest idea. He considered climbing down, but refused to give in. Damn it, he was going to get these lights strung if it was the last thing he did. He'd better hurry and finish the job because if Jethro discovered him out here he'd blow a gasket.

All that was needed was a couple more clips and he'd be done, and if he reached a bit further… "Ow!" Tony gasped at a tearing pain in his side, and dropped the end of the string of lights. The clips tumbled from his hand and fell, disappearing into the deep snow beneath the ladder. "Damn," he exclaimed in frustration. "Okay, take deep breaths," he muttered to himself. Remain calm, you have more clips in your pocket. Suck it up and finish the job. Tony DiNozzo is not a quitter. The pain receded and became a dull throb so, once again, he pulled a clip out of his pocket and reached for the dangling lights.

"Hey, what're you doing up there?" a booming voice asked from down below.

Startled, Tony twisted to see who was speaking, and he wobbled, his foot slipped, his arms flailed as he fell off the ladder, right into a deep bank of white, fluffy snow. He landed on his back, and although he was dazed from the impact, he was pretty sure he hadn't broken anything. At least he hadn't fallen on something hard like the cement walkway.

As Tony lay there trying to catch his breath, aware that his side was not only painful, but now felt warm and wet, the man who had spoken to him appeared in his line of sight. The guy was bundled up against the inclement weather, wearing a heavy coat, a hat pulled down low and a scarf muffling the lower part of his face.

"Who are…?"

"Junior? Why are you fooling around down there?"

Tony blinked as snowflakes landed on his eyelashes. "Dad?"

"Here, get up out of that snow," Senior said, grabbing Tony's arm and hauling him into a seated position. Tony cried out in pain and his father snapped, "For God's sake, Junior, stop making a fuss. C'mon, get up so I can get inside. It's damned cold out here."

When his dad pulled at his arm again, Tony said loudly, "Don't!" The minute Senior released him, Tony fell back in the snow with a groan.

"What's wrong with you?" Senior stepped back and frowned at Tony.

"Nothing. I'm… making… snow angels," Tony said through gritted teeth. Jethro, where are you?

Right on cue, the front door opened and Jethro hurried to his side. "Tony!"

"I'm okay… just… winded. I'm fine," he said defensively, even though the concern in Jethro's eyes made him feel a little bit guilty. Okay, more than a little.

"I tried to help him up," Senior said defensively, "but he was purposely making himself heavy. He always did that as a child."

Jethro ignored Senior and said directly to Tony, "Let's get you in the house." He slipped one strong arm behind Tony's back and slowly got him to his feet.

Tony wrapped his left arm around Jethro's shoulders and held his right arm tight against his body. It helped stave off the pain, a little. By the time Jethro had assisted him up the front steps and inside, Tony was breathing hard and feeling dizzy. Carefully, Jethro lowered Tony onto the living room couch – the brand new one they had picked out together that was wide enough to sleep upon. Once he was sure Tony was okay sitting, Jethro inspected Tony's eyes as he felt his head for any lumps. Apparently there weren't any, but that didn't stop Mother Hen Gibbs from helping Tony remove his coat so he could check out his limbs and make sure he hadn't broken any bones.

Finally, in order to distract Jethro before he saw the fresh blood that had to be seeping through his sweater by now, Tony jerked his chin towards where Senior stood in the entryway. "You invited him in?"

Jethro narrowed his eyes and growled, "You think I'd do that?"

Tony shook his head. "No. Course not." They'd made an agreement that neither of them would ever invite Senior to their home. Rule #1225, or 'The Senior Rule,' they called it.

Besides, Senior had no idea that his son was gay, or that he'd been sleeping with his boss for the past two years, or that he'd been living with him for a year now. He didn't need to know any of this; it was none of his business.

Jethro straightened and asked Senior, "So why're you here?"

Senior puffed his chest out, affronted at Jethro's tone. "I can't visit my own son on Christmas Eve?"

Both Jethro and Tony replied, "No!" at the same time, which was funny enough that Tony snorted. Tony's father had been around briefly at Thanksgiving, once, and that had been as awkward as hell. He had arrived unexpectedly a couple of times, sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted, always with some ulterior motive. The worst experience was when Tony's teammates had actually invited Senior to their NCIS Christmas party, as a surprise, despite the fact Tony had made it clear to one and all he was not on the best of terms with his father. Their intentions may have been good, but Tony shuddered inwardly at the memories.

"I went out of my way to visit you but strangers were at your condo. They said you'd sold it to them," Senior said, sounding peevish. "Where are you living now?"

Tony didn't respond. He'd sold his condo months ago, and had given a PO box as his forwarding address. He should have guessed that the old man would turn up at Gibbs' house, looking for him. The problem was, the last thing Tony wanted was for Senior to find out about him and Jethro.

Ever since Tony had revealed to Jethro why he didn't trust his father, and his reasons for not wanting him around, Jethro had sworn he'd never let the man anywhere near Tony, not ever again. Only now, Senior was standing in their home, shaking snow off his hat and it looked like he was about to take off his outerwear and make himself at home.

"Hold it right there," Jethro warned. "What d'you want?" he asked baldly.

Apparently even outright hostility wasn't enough to shake Senior's façade. He put on his benevolent face and smiled warmly. "I came to see Junior, to wish him a Merry Christmas. I brought a gift," he said, holding up a mid-sized gift-wrapped box, as if that made everything all right.

"No," Jethro said, putting his foot down.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. Get out of my house," Jethro said impatiently.

"Really! I can't believe the way you're treating me! And what gives you the right to prevent me from seeing my son? Why, Junior and I…"

Jethro stalked right up to Senior, who quickly backed up a few steps in the face of Jethro's ire. Jethro got right in his face and warned, "If you ever call him 'Junior' again, I am going to use my combat knife to slice you from stem to stern, and then I'll drag your sorry carcass by the entrails out to the hills and leave it for the coyotes to finish off."

Even from across the room, Tony could see his father grow pale.

Senior spluttered, "Well, I never…"

"Do you understand?" Jethro demanded, in his best Marine voice.

Senior raised his hands and backed away, but he craned his neck so he could look around the angry man and see his son. "Anthony, how can you just sit there and let this man threaten me? This is highly irregular, and I told you years ago you need to get a new job, away from this tyrant and…"

Tony got to his feet and said sharply, "Dad, put a cork in it. Please leave right now. And Jethro, get over here. I need…" Suddenly Tony felt hot and a little lightheaded. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and swayed a little. "I need…"

Jethro was at Tony's side, supporting him. "I got you."

Senior pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and held them out. Sounding desperate, he said, "I need you to sign these papers, son, right away. There was a mess-up at the bank, a slight misunderstanding, and they need to be signed and sealed before the year's end or else the account–"

Despite his vow not to talk to his father, Tony asked, "What're you talking about? My mother's account?"

"Well, there was a mistake, son, and in her delusion, near the end, apparently she made you a joint owner. The discrepancy just came to light and, of course, the lawyers and bank managers asked me to obtain–"

Tony knew the account he was talking about. It was a considerable amount of money that had been held in trust for him, for when he turned thirty-five. Considering he'd hit that age earlier that year, he was surprised his father had taken this long to appear on his doorstep. "You've got to be joking. That's my money, Paddington money, Dad. Look, I'll deal with the bank but not now."

"I need this, Junior, and after everything I've done for you–"

Tony choked back a laugh. "Everything…? I can't deal with this… Jethro?"

Jethro asked, "What d'you need?"

"Just get me out of here," Tony begged. The edges of his vision were getting dark and he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself by passing out. He could just picture his father standing over his prostrate body, saying something like, 'He fainted. See, he's too weak to be in charge of his own finances.'

With Jethro to lean upon, Tony made it several steps towards the kitchen before his legs started to buckle underneath him. As he fell, he heard a commotion going on at the front door, and, as if from far away, Abby crying out, "Senior! I didn't know you were going to be here! I missed you! How've you…"

Then someone was at his other side, a strong hand on his elbow helping to steady him. "Let me help," said Tim.

"Get him into the bedroom at the back," Jethro said tersely.

"Hang in there, Tony. We've got you," Tim said – the last words Tony heard before everything went black.

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