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It wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time since the wedding.
But Gibbs taking that bullet to save his life made this particular hospital vigil a hell of a lot harder than any of the previous ones.
Watching Gibbs go down was always hard. Though they were both prone to on the job injuries Tony’s own just didn’t scare him the same way. The worst he’d been through in the grand scheme of things was an especially sever beating that resulted in three broken ribs, a bruised kidney, a split lip, two broken fingers and a concussion.
Gibbs usually fared almost as well, broken bones and minor bullet wounds, the occasional near drowning. This time had been different. The bullet had nicked an artery and had Tony not gotten pressure on it immediately Gibbs would have bled out in the damn road.
Tony was so fucking scared he didn’t even begrudge Ziva the satisfaction of killing the son of a bitch.
It had been nine hours and three surgeries but the doctors didn’t seem certain that it’d be enough.
The night nurse seemed to be contemplating kicking him out so Tony stood, “Mind staying with my husband a second while I hit the head? I don’t want him alone just now.”
She glanced at his ring and Tony’s right hand instinctively went to its twin in his pocket before she nodded. He gave himself a few extra seconds in the men’s room before returning and taking Gibbs’ hand in his own.
When she slipped back out of the room he began speaking for the first time all night, low and soft.
“When you went down today… That almost fucking killed me Jethro. It should have been me. And no I don’t mean I want to die, or my heroics are more important than yours. But let’s face facts here sweet cheeks, while neither of us is a spring chicken anymore I am younger and though you’d deny it healthier. Oh yeah and I could have just ducked. That being said I love that you love me that much but you have to understand something for me…
“If you fucking die for me I will have you revived, divorce your ass and let you die again. You don’t get to be the martyred hero here. You will fucking live for me. You will help me spoil the cutest little boy and kitten on the face of this earth until both are just damn well rotten to the core. Then when we’re both drooling old men being looked after by bored twenty something nurses we are going to just go to sleep one night and not wake up.
“You don’t get to let some little gangsta wannabe kill you. You promised me forever and that is what I damn well expect you to give me.”
He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t really get one, save the slow and steady improvement in Gibbs’ heart rate and blood pressure.