Work Text:
"The measure of a soldier is what he protects when there are no orders left to follow."
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FOB - Forward Operating Base
HUB - Homeland Unified Bureau
MTAC - Multiple Threat Assessment Center
SecDef - Secretary of Defense
SecNav - Secretary of the Navy
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At least the coffee at the HUB was that good shit.
That was the one awesome thing in this whole fucked up situation. It was probably some big shot politician's imported stash found in the rubble of the capitol building and 'appropriated' to their underground ready room. It was certainly needed to power all of the big brains herded into the large space.
Tony stood at the small coffee station, taking a minute to disassociate as a fresh batch percolated. The faded yellow concrete wall was cool even through his knit sweater. They kept the place pretty cold with all the computers stacked in towers around the scattered desks, white boards and flickering monitors. The murmur of voices, the shuffling of paper and clacking of keys all seemed to coalesce into a single wave of sound, surging and ebbing over him as shitty satellite images flashed none stop on screens at the corner of his eyes.
He blinked against the dryness, swallowing against the fuzziness in his mouth. looked like he needed to add a bottle water to go along with his nth cup of coffee. Clutching his "No.1 Special Agent" mug in his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck before rolling his hunched and aching shoulders. He looked out at the large space beyond through hooded eyes. The massive underground room sprawling out from his little corner was immense and had been echoing and empty the first time Tony had stumbled into it. It had looked like a giant parking garage at first but had lacked the painted lines and easy access doors.
He'd learned since then that they were encased in five feet of concrete with heavy as fuck, retina locked metal security doors and that it had probably been some top secret muster point or bunker that had been 'need to know' before now. And Tony, as a low level NCIS grunt, had not needed to know, apparently.
In the span of a day the space had been filled with tables, computers and display screens constantly showing moving military and civilian assets through crappy real time satellite footage. Now, four hellish days later, it was a hive of activity, armed guards vetting the people coming in and out, soldiers and civilians alike huddled around tables and over tablets as they tried to manage the absolute apocalypse going on over head.
He huffed a slow breath, carefully testing his lungs for aches as the machine beeped; filled his cup and doctored it with a generous amount of milk and sugar before taking a tentative sip as, unlike Gibbs, he didn’t drink his coffee scalding like lava. He liked his taste buds and didn't want them scorched off, thank you very much. He also couldn't bring himself to down his coffee black, unlike others in the HUB who seemed to need to mainline the stuff via I.V.
Meandering back to his desk, he slumped into his chair and blinked at the scattered reports, maps, tablets and computer monitors that had been crammed unto his little fortress of plastic folding tables. Taking another, deeper sip; he set the mug aside before pulling up the latest report from the D.C. FOB. Scanning the blurry reconnaissance photos, he absently wondered where was the state of the art, hi-def imaging from that one Will Smith movie… State of the Union… no… that wasn't it… oh yeah… Enemy of the State. That was it.
Jeez, he must be really tired if he couldn’t keep his movies straight.
Hell, he'd even take the weird time travel bullshit from Denzel Washington's Déjà Vu if it could give him the definition he needed to do his job. God, he was starting to lose the plot. He needed sleep. He'd been going on fourteen hour days… they all had. It had been All Hands On Deck since the powers that be had plucked him from the apocalypse going on above ground and planted him down here in the middle of the strategic think tank. He hadn't seen the light of day since then except through video feed and he was starting to feel a bit frayed around the edges.
He looked around, beyond his little table fortress at the HUB beyond. There were a few others hunched over the scattered tables, staring blearily at computer screens; but most of the others milling around all day had been sent off to get what sleep they could manage. It was just after four am. Shift change was coming soon and he had a date with a single army bunk and a scratchy green blanket with his name on it. This last cup of coffee was just to keep him functional enough to sign off on his reports and hand over to his relief.
"DiNozzo." a gruff voice greeted him from beyond his fortress.
"Fletch." Tony returned the man's nod of greeting. "How was top side?"
The middle aged man's face said it all and Tonys heart clenched.
"Those tin can fuckers are still kicking the shit out of us." Fletch scratched at his bald spot. "For every one our people take down, another of those damnable things pops up in a civilian area somewhere. It's a cluster fuck trying to fight the fuckers while trying to evacuate the civvies."
Tony stayed silent. There was nothing he could say. Even his gift of gab seemed to abandon him when reminded of the all-out planetary war going on above their heads. It was one thing to watch it on the large monitors from satellite footage, it was another to be up there in the noise and heat and fear and danger.
Part of him wanted to be up there. Helping people, protecting people. Doing his job. But another part knew that what he was doing now was important too. That he'd been all but fed-napped by Tom Morrow and sent down to the HUB for his strategic mind and out of the box thinking. That he'd been slapped with a Deputy Director of Strategic Affairs title taped on his fortress with masking tape and a sharpie and put in charge of coordinating military personnel, facilities and assets not directly involved in active war zones.
It was 'a little bit ironic' like Alanis Morrisette said; that's he'd been quitting NCIS that very day and was standing at his car in the Navy Yard, box of personal crap in hand; when the first of the Tin Cans had crash landed nearby and began fucking up everyone's day. By chance, or God's sense of humour, Tom Morrow had come to visit with Director Vance on some HomeLand business and had come across Tony in the parking lot directing frightened people towards the NCIS crisis bunker.
The sound the machine had made had echoed through the Washington sky like a death rattle and Tony would never forget the terrifying sound of it as long as he lived. He'd only been able to grab his favourite mug and his mickey mouse stapler and shove them into his jacket pocket before Morrow had grabbed him and shoved him into an SUV as the front of the NCIS building collapsed in on itself. He'd just glimpsed the silhouette of the gigantic machine stepping around the side of the crumbling facade before the SUV was skidding away.
Tony was sure that he'd screamed at the sight. Not only for the people he'd just directed into said building but for his team… well… his former team. Yes, he'd resigned. Angry and bitter and utterly fed up at the toxic family the team had become; but he hadn't wished them dead. He wanted to run back… he'd wanted to make sure that they were ok. That they had made it to the bunker and were somehow alive and safe.
But even as Tom held him close, even as he screamed their names; he knew that he couldn't go back. Whatever that thing was… whatever angel of death that was stomping the NCIS building into rubble as soldiers shot uselessly at it. That thing would kill him if he went back. Either stomp him into paste, shoot him into swiss cheese or blow him up into bloody mist. There was nothing he could do for them. He just had to hope and pray that they were safe and made it out alive.
That had been four days ago. Just four days. It felt like four hundred. He'd spent those days working, sleeping and eating somewhere in the middle, keeping his mind busy as he searched for news from the naval yard that wasn't updating casualty lists. The NCIS bunker was equipped to keep people housed and fed for days, weeks if they rationed well. There was still hope. The city was already thin on the ground with military personnel and first responders as they'd been the first to rush toward danger in the beginning, so things were slow on the search and rescue front. He just had to be patient and keep himself busy.
"You should get some shut eye while you can." Fletch huffed and rubbed a hand down his face. "I'm certainly ready to rack it and sack it. Especially with that Hero Ranger coming in tomorrow. The brass are going to want the red carpet rolled out for him and that means more work for me."
"Hero Ranger?" Tony frowned, "That wasn't on the security brief."
The other man did a neck stretch. "Yeah… some army guy took out one of those things by himself out in the woods, wounded and dragging a wounded team member. Get this… he wasn't technically a Ranger yet. All this happened during their final test."
Tony raised both eyebrows and sat back in his chair. "This is the guy with the intake valve intel, right? Stall the engine guy."
"Yup. Got it in one." Fletch nodded, shouldering his bag. "Gave him the job on the spot after he dragged his buddy and himself back to base on a busted knee. Been helping out in battles up the coast since."
"Why bring him to DC? They don't actually want to do a PR medal ceremony right now, do they?"
"Nah. They want a thorough debrief. Sec Def wants to pick his brain. The man took out one of those mother fuckers by hisself with some fucking construction equipment. Who knows what other good ideas he might have rattling around in there?"
Tony just hummed in agreement as Fletch waved goodbye and trotted off to his bunk. He was right about one thing. Tony needed sleep if tomorrow was going to be a big day.
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He got in a good six hours of sleep, scratchy blanket and all; and spent some time showering and shaving. Work at the HUB was usually business casual as they'd ended raiding some clothing stores to dress everyone who'd essentially left their entire lives behind. Tony was lucky to be high enough on the totem pole that a couple of ensigns had been sent to grab some things from his apartment. He'd had to leave most if it behind - his movie collection, his mother's piano and more but he had his documents, a photo album and a good bit of his clothes.
Soon after, he'd found out that his apartment building had been taken out by stealth bombers trying to herd one of those things away from a more vulnerable target and had to tuck that grief right along with the rest of his pain and keep working. There were more important things in the world than that. Like keeping people alive and those things at bay. Like not letting the world come to an end.
There would be time enough to grieve after. Or he'd probably be dead. So… moot point.
He borrowed a standing steamer from the quarter master and pulled out his Tom Ford. They had a special guest in bound today and even though Tony doubted the brass would stop by the HUB, it didn't hurt to be prepared. Work smarter, not harder… no wait… it was Always Be Prepared. Boy Scouts. Yeah.
He got a wolf whistle as he made his way to his fortress and shot the offender a grin before taking his place at the head of the long strategy table. "Alright, Ladies, Lads and all around Rads. We're in for a big day today so I want everyone to be on top of their game. We have brass flying into the FOB so I want extra eyes on their entry route and landing. Group heads, I need you for ten minutes and Parkinson… I need that update on our aircraft carriers in the Gulf of Mexico right after."
"You got it, boss." a chipped voice called out.
Tony bit back the knee jerk reaction at the title. It was getting a bit easier to hear himself being addressed as such but it always poked at a soft place right under his ribs. He didn't know if Gibbs was alive. If any of them were alive. He clenched his fist and shoved the thought away. There was no place for that here. No time for that now. He cleared his throat and looked around the table as team leads gathered closer around one end of the long table.
"Ok, people." Tony nodded in greeting. "Let's kick this pig."
The day is almost done when a deep voice broke him out of his concentration.
"They say you're the boss around here…"
Tony looked up from his monitor. "Until I'm either dead or they find someone better."
"Starship Troopers. Nice"
Tony perked up from his exhausted haze with a grin. "You a fan?
The bigger man shrugged. "Every infantry man's seen that movie."
Tony looked the soldier standing at parade rest up and down. The man was an absolute unit. Tall, wide shoulders, thighs that looked like they could crack watermelons and arms that looked like they could hold his weight up against a wall while he fucked him. Thankfully, he could keep a straight face with the rest of them and didn't come across as too hungry but Jesus, did the man tick all of his boxes. God Damn.
He motioned to the masking taped and sharpie name plate. " Acting Deputy Director DiNozzo, at your service."
The soldier nodded. "They call me 81, sir"
Tony raised a curious brow. "That come on your paperwork, Ranger?
"Paperwork got burned up back at the Ranger base, sir. But back then they called me Staff Sargeant."
The utter cheek on this one. Tony liked. He gave the man a full smile as he stood and came around the table.
"You're the one who figured out how to stop those things in their tracks." His eyes narrowed at their clasped hands, going solemn. "We've saved a lot of people with that intel. Things would have been much worse without it. Thank you for that, soldier."
"Was just doing my duty, sir." the lines around the man's eyes crinkled as he have a small smile.
"Yes, well... I'm sure you've heard a lot of that today already so I won't go on about it." Tony acknowledged. He sat on the edge of his desk. "So what can I do for you, Ranger 81."
"I was told to report to the HUB for debrief."
"But I thought you were debriefing today with Sec Def and the remaining joint chiefs?" Tony was confused.
"I have been." the bigger man said with a barely contained sigh. "…for the past eight hours."
"Yeowch." the Italian man made a face. "Then they shipped you straight to us? Tough break."
The soldier looked around. "So what does the HUB stand for anyway?"
"Officially? Homeland Unified Bureau."
"And unofficially?"
Tony looked across the operations floor where uniforms from every branch of the military worked beside civilians, analysts. "It's where everyone comes when nobody else has any answers."
He hopped off the desk and clapped his hands, checking his watch then nodding. "This calls for some dinner, me thinks."
"Sir?"
He tilted his head at the solder playfully. "A little nosh. A little conversation. Much better than the next two hours in an interrogation room, don't you think?"
"Well, a girl likes to be wined and dined before getting right down to it, sir."
Tony barked a surprised laugh at the man's almost playful expression. It was the first time he'd laughed in a week.
"Come on then… we have MREs and MREs… you can take your pick. You can't say I don't treat my dates to the best. Oorah."
"That's the marines, sir. Rangers say Hooah."
Tony scrunched up his nose. "Well, I'm former NCIS so consider me a Navy boy."
"I'd rather not, sir…" 81 smirked back. "Us jarheads hate squiddies… and I'm just starting to like you."
That had Tony laughing once more.
The next couple hours were spent in the storeroom that had been converted to a crude officer's mess. Tony was right when he said there were MREs and MREs to choose from but the officer's mess at least came with some canned goods and a trusty microwave. They talked about the machines and what 81 had observed during the first incursion. Tony made notes and asked thoughtful questions that had the other man thinking for long moments before answering.
They shared a can of peaches in syrup as they filled a note pad page with notes, touching almost shoulder to knee as Tony filled the page with his neat script. Then it was back to the fortress to type up the report together. It was midnight before they were both satisfied, having watched and analyzed hours of battle footage and read field reports.
81 had way more front line knowledge than Tony's meager minutes before the machine and he was willing to share first hand insight about the machines movements, tactics and level of artificial intelligence. It was humbling to hear the soldier's experience and Tony found himself staring at the man as he shared the vivid memory of facing off against the giant killer robot.
"Something on my face?" 81 quirked a brow.
Tony gave him a small smile. "You're kind of amazing."
81 ducked his head, going solemn. "I wasn't trying to be a hero."
"Most heroes aren't." Tony said softly. "Doesn't mean they they're not still heroes."
"I … I just needed to get over the line." that gravelly voice was soft, Tony had to strain to hear it.
Tony exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Survivor's guilt can be a cast iron bitch."
Grey eyes snapped up to meet his. There was no need to explain that Tony had read his file. Had learned about his KIA brother.
"I'm still waiting to learn if anyone made it out of the NCIS building." Tony's eyes went distant as he clenched and released his fists. "Maybe they're in the bunker waiting for rescue. Maybe their dead and I'm the only one left. I have no idea and all I can do is wait in this place and distract myself with work so I don't hear them calling for me… asking me why I won't come save them."
He swallowed heavily and pressed his fingertips against the sting of his eyes. A warm hand touched his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Nothing else was said about either matter and they both got back to work.
"When are you flying out?"
81 rolled his broad shoulders. "Taking the helo at 0600 tomorrow."
"You have a rack assigned?"
"They're putting me in the barracks upstairs."
"My quarters have way more privacy."
"Really?"
"And lube."
"Hooah, Sir."
"Yeah… let's leave the Sir right here, ok soldier?"
"As you wish, Tony."
"Busting out the Princess Bride, are we? I'm pretty much a sure thing."
"Still gotta bring a bit of romance. Can't have you thinking I'm a greedy date."
"Much appreciated."
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81 fucked like a man on a mission, their clothes stripped off and abandoned with military efficiency. He was big, muscles cording under his skin as he man handled Tony to the bed. The coils squeaked and the scratchy blanket was pulled aside as hands and mouths explored each other. 81 was scarred, both from wounds long healed and scars still scabbed over and healing. His knee was a mess, still bruised and colourful along with half his torso.
Tony didn't lecture or even frown. It wasn't his place to tell soldiers to hold themselves back. To pull away from the fight. He fought that same urge within himself every day, wanting to grab a gun and protect those he'd once sworn an oath to seek and uphold justice for. It was those same soldiers who were, even now, fighting the machines that sought to bring mankind to extinction. The man in his arms was one of those brave… those few. Too few left. So many dead.
He blinked back tears and let himself fall into the pleasure of their bodies intertwined. Time was precious and future not guaranteed. All they had was the now and the mouth claiming his with a possession that seemed to stretch longer than the few hours they'd known each other. It was hot… so fucking hot. Skin against skin, slick with lube and blissful friction, hands at his hips, mouth at his throat. Hot cock against his, so hard and throbbing.
He gasped a curse when slick fingers skimmed his ass, reaching back to brush against his hole. One calloused finger breached him, then two… gentle, probing, gong deeper until he was panting and pushing back; the burn of pain turning into pleasure. Four fingers had him mewling and squirming, his breath coming in slow, ragged draws. That thick cock burned along his nerves, every inch that went deeper seeming to carve itself into his soul. He let out a long, low moan when it finally bottomed out, eyes rolling back in his head as the larger man's hips began to move.
He vaguely registered falling into guttural Italian, legs around the other man's hips, heels in his ass, hands gripping huge biceps as they bulged. Trapped against the rumpled sheets, the weight of a man over him like an anchor. Keeping him grounded. Keeping him steady. Keeping him from shaking apart and floating away.
The cot squeaked as 81 went to his knees and back on his haunches, bringing Tony with him, gravity sinking him to the root. He clenched, a full body shudder wracking his body as he hugged the larger man around the neck; unable to do anything but hold of and just let himself feel. Fuck, those arms were totally strong enough to lift him, fucking him thoroughly on the thick cock buried deep inside him. They fell into a rhythm so easily, so comfortably, like dancers who'd known each other for years. It felt so good. So right.
Orgasm over him like a bandit, taking his sense and sanity for long, overwhelming moments until reality crept back in, restarting his heart and his firing up his synapses. The world made sense once more and his body was once again his. They kissed and touched in the after math, occasional shakes and shudders when sensitive areas were touched, kissed, licked. They enjoyed each other, savouring every moment, every shared breath, soft caress. They deserved soft and sweet. Even if for one night.
The world outside was harsh and cold and full of red light and the terrifying scream of robotic death.
He set his alarm for 0500 so 81 would have time to shower and dress before reporting to the barracks for his gear. The cot wasn't big enough so Tony fell asleep on the larger man's broad chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. The morning found him alone, a hastily scribbled note on the night stand. He chuckled at the words and slipped into a book to keep it safe before getting up to get a start on his day.
Two days later he was called into MTAC and came face to face with Director Morrow.
"I have news. They've finally breached the bunker at NCIS."
Tony exhaled harshly, slumping in his chair. "Survivors, sir?"
Tom winced. "Less than a fifty. Most weren't able to make it before the building went down. Luckily, they had enough supplies and oxygen to keep them alive until rescue came. They're being sent to Charlie Base while the critically injured are being helo'd to George Washington University Hospital."
Tony clenched his fists under the table. "And the MCRT? Ducky? Abby?"
Tom paused. "Ducky got both Abby and Jimmy into the bunker. David and McGee were still in the stairs case going down when it collapsed. Vance was still in the bullpen. Their bodies have been recovered and are being processed to the facilities at Arlington. We don't have time or space to bury so they will be cremated and kept interned."
"And Gibbs?" Getting info from his boss was an exercise in pulling teeth. Fuck.
He stilled when the other man's face broke into a grin. "That old gunny never fails to surprise even me and I've known the man for decades."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Turned out Gibbs had gone out for coffee and wasn't even in the building. So what does he do? Joins the 205th in their fight against the Tin Cans before jumping from crew to crew, rescuing people who were trapped and scared and directing them towards safety. Same thing you were doing when I found you. Wouldn't be one bit surprised if he gets reinstated if the brass manage to get hold of him."
Tony felt like he was floating as he made his way back to his work station. Ducky was alive… Abby. Jimmy. Gibbs. There were survivors. Not many. So many were died. So many had died. So many would still die. They were still at war. Would be at war until every last one of those tin cans were either scrap or slag. Shit… if only they could do like in Terminator 2 or Alien 3 and chuck them all into molten metal. Fuck, even an active volcano would be handy in a pinch.
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SIX MONTHS LATER
The network of tunnels under the capital had become an underground city. The Tin Cans, or the Vanguard as they'd come to be officially called, had all been destroyed and the earth was healing. Above ground, people went on with their lives, rebuilding… healing… living. Life went on and the human race bounced back as it always did. But as life went on above ground, those in power built another world below.
The war machines were eventually classified as Vanguard because the big brains determined them to be just the pre-cursor to a much bigger… much more invasive force. They had either scared them away with their defense and eradication of the tin cans or they were just waiting until humanity let their guard down before delivering a decisive strike.
Tony's masking tape and sharpie desk title turned into an engraved one and the unofficial 'Acting' prefix had also been dropped off. The HUB had grown into a bigger foot print, it's hastily tossed together departments developing into tight knit teams that supported their still recovering military. The world had basically been gutted by the machines, global security, global economy, global population. All of it had suffered within the first days… the first weeks. Some of it could be built back. Some would never recover. But at least they'd build something new out of the rubble.
The sun was bright outside the door way to the large hanger, its warmth welcome on Tony's skin as he basked in it. Time in the HUB was making him start to feel like Gollum and he appreciated any time he got to leave the underground and venture above ground.
"DiNozzo… or should I call you Deputy Director?"
Tony grinned and turned at that all too familiar voice. "Only if I get to call you Gunny."
"Eh… no thank you." Gibbs quirked a grin and held out his hand. "It's good to see you, Tony."
Tony pulled on the hand and yanked the older man in for a hug.
"Good to see you too, Gibbs. I heard you've got those baby marines hopping down at Fort Galloway. Good to see you have your 'Second B for Bastard' still going strong. You'll have them whipped into shape and fighting strong in no time."
"It's good that this old man is still be able to serve." Gibbs removed his camouflage cap and rubbed the back of his shaved head. "... Still be useful."
"Hey… age means wisdom and we need that more than ever now. They are lucky to have you." Tony agreed softly. "It's going to be all hands on deck for a long time to come."
"The others?" Gibbs' eyes were bright blue and still piercing.
"Abby's out with Habitat for Humanity while Jimmy is a doc at George Washington. Ducky's taken up a spot at the teaching hospital so he's stepped into an education position. He really likes it there and they all love his stories."
"Good. Good." the silver haired man nodded sagely, a smile in his eyes. "Glad to see that they are happy."
"They'd be happier if you called. Come on, Jethro… I know you know how to send an email."
Tony laughed at the man's grimace. "Snail mail is back up as well. Send them a goddamned letter."
That had the older man laughing and they parted ways soon after as Tony was due for a meeting in MTAC with Tom and the newly appointed SecNav. The rest of the day was hectic as usual and by the time he'd made his way back to his new quarters, he was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar form slumped against his door, a dusty duffel at his side.
"Hey, stranger." Tony jangled his keys and smiled widely at his visitor. "You gotta place to stay?"
81 gave him a wide, leonine smile. "You offering?"
"Got a bigger bed. And some more lube." Tony wiggled his eyebrows. "You're welcome to both."
The Ranger scrambled to his feet and grabbed his duffel. "I wanna be on you."
Tony barked a laugh that had him bent double. "Did you just quote Ron fucking Burgandy to me?"
Still chuckling, he opened the door and ushered the man in. As he closed the door and locked it he found himself pressed against it, hungry lips on his own. He moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, shuddering as a thick thigh pressed between his legs. The end of the kiss lift him panting and breathless.
"Jesus. Impatient are we?"
“You should be kissed — and often — and by someone who knows how.”
"Oooo. Rhett Butler. Gone with the Wind. Classic."
"As I said… gotta bring the romance. You already brought the lube."
The soldier grinned and kissed him again. Tony moaned with pleasure as the thigh pressed closer.
"Hmmm. Much appreciated."