Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/549976.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      NCIS
  Relationship:
      Tony_DiNozzo/OMC, implied_possible_future_Tony/Palmer
  Character:
      Tony_DiNozzo, Jimmy_Palmer, OMC
  Additional Tags:
      exerimenting_sexuality, Bi-curious, film_buffs, Boarding_School,
      Orientation, Friendship, gay_wedding, Movie_Night
  Series:
      Part 14 of Wake_Up_Call
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-30 Words: 2294
****** Two Roads Diverged In A Silent Wood ******
by KuriNCIS_(KuriKoer)
Summary
     Young people experimenting and discovering, as people do. “It's an
     old plot.. Boys play together, one of them ends up gay, one of them
     ends up straight.”
An age-old tale, in boarding school, in college, the shy guy, or the drunk guy,
experimenting, touching each other furtively behind the bleachers, in the empty
locker room, under blankets; telling each other it's just gratification, it's
just until they get a girlfriend, it's just a way to get off and nothing more.
Tony heard it happens in the Navy too, long time at sea or on base with no one
but your fellow sweaty men and your own hand, and somebody else's hand starts
to look good. The story goes that some guys walk out of that meeting straight
as day, and then some were gay all along. Thing is, Tony always thought he'd be
the straight one.
He was a kid, he was just a kid, and the other boy was also just a kid, Marvin
something, and Tony was more of a nerd then than he was willing to admit, a
movie buff in social circles that didn't appreciate them; the other kid was
also not the most popular boy around. Lips wide and soft like a girl's, and
after the MASH reruns started airing, in that old beat up television in the
common room, some of the boys started calling him Hot Lips, with a mocking,
derisive tone, and it stuck. Marvin Hot Lips, with glasses and a movie quote
supply that didn't rival Tony's, but was encouraging; they sat on the couch and
Marvin made the first step, or at least that's how Tony remembers it, wanted to
remember it that way...
Yeah, it would only make sense if Marvin grew up to be gay, Tony thought, and
he'd grow up to be the great romancer of hot women, like his string of brief
step-moms were. And it almost worked, didn't it? It very nearly worked. He
almost convinced himself. He hadn't touched a boy since that fumbling, blushing
attempt, not until...
Right. So he knew it wasn't accidental. He knew it wasn't just seeing how it
was, or trying something forbidden for the sake of it, or just succumbing to
Marvin's dubious charms and the insistence of an early puberty. It was
something more. Maybe it was Marvin who turned out straight.
Either way, Tony figures he's getting too old to be a frightened boy on a sofa
in a dark room with a movie playing too loud and somebody else's too warm, too
obvious hard-on under his hand. It's time to face his terrifying secret head
on... and realize the world won't fall down on him for it.
---
Sitting on a sofa, watching movies; "I can't believe you never saw this one
before!"
Palmer throws another cheeto into his mouth and miraculously doesn't miss. He
shrugs in that endearing way of his and Tony wants to scream, because what
person who lived in western society for over thirty years managed to somehow
not see this movie? How?!
"Just," Tony sighs in desperation, "watch it. And be quiet," he warns.
"I wasn't the one talking," Palmer points out.
"Shush, Jimmy."
He doesn't call him gremlin at home that much. Only when there are other people
around, mostly, at least, and then he tries to think up other names but none
come. He wants to think up something biting about bats in a cave, but all that
comes up is Batman, and ultra-cool is really not the image he was going for.
Although he has to admit Palmer's a lot cooler since he came into his own at
work. And started dating ridiculously hot women, Tony thinks, way out of the
league he considered Palmer worthy of, so he had to readjust league
qualifications. Or maybe his own standards were dropping. Spending too much
time with McGeek. Guys who play computer games and never owned a Playboy until
they were twenty-five. What was up with that.
And Palmer. Yeah, that was something. But Tony surmised, a long time ago, that
they weren't all in high school anymore, and the dork in the funny glasses
could turn out to be a really nice guy. Who brought a bucket of popcorn, and
put two straws up his nose and made walrus jokes, so maybe they still are in
high school, a little, but it's still fun sitting in the dark with his hand in
a bucket of salted, buttered, exploded corn, watching a movie and laughing.
Fingers brushing against his own. Warm with popcorn and abrasive with salt and
a little oily with butter, and Tony has no idea why but his breath catches and
he stares ahead into the movie as if he doesn't notice. Palmer pulls his hand
out in a hurry.
Tony dares to glance aside. Palmer's licking the popcorn's tasty residue from
his fingers. Tony hopes his mouth didn't just fall open.
And Palmer turns his head, and sees him staring, and he doesn't stop. He just
licks another finger, long and wet. Tony expects a smirk. Or a blush, could go
either way, but Palmer just sucks on his fingers for the longest time, popping
them out of his mouth with a wet sound, and then he smiles that sudden, bright
smile of his, that one he gives when something dawns on him suddenly but it
doesn't dawn with all the light it should; like when he knows he should step
back from a conversation but doesn't quite get why. Tony's seen that look a
thousand times. The guy has no idea what he's doing. Palmer moves his hand away
from his lips, and Tony breathes again.
"Good popcorn," Palmer remarks.
"Yes," Tony agrees, mouth dry, eyes still so wide he can feel the muscles
around them stretched.
"Really unhealthy," Palmer adds. "Too much butter and salt."
Tony can handle that. "It's movie night," he chides. "Don't sound like Ducky on
movie night."
Palmer smiles and turns back to the screen. "Sorry," he says. And Tony gets the
strangest feeling. And he's thinking of Marvin for some reason, and of the
flickering blue light of a television in a dark dorm room that smelled like
socks and teenage dreams.
---
It's a weird coincidence that just over a month later he sees Marvin again, for
the first time in twenty-something years at least. He has no idea what he
expected to find, really.
"You're a lawyer now?"
Marvin - Schuster, apparently - gained some weight during the past years, but
then, who hasn't; has a much better hairdo than Tony remembers; wears an
expensive grey suit that Tony envies a little. He still has those soft,
reddened lips, a bit large for his face, but now he sets them off with a well-
groomed moustache and a stylish, anti-trendy goatee. Tony can appreciate the
look, in a detached sort of way. He's still shocked to see Marvin, in his
building, in his interrogation room, standing next to a sailor that his Gibbs
is questioning.
"My client's papers, and his laptop," Marvin says smoothly, and to Tony he
says, "Drinks and catching up, later?"
Gibbs gives him an evil eye. "Conflict of interests, DiNozzo?"
"No boss, no," Tony says quickly, maybe a little too quickly, "haven't seen him
in years. Nothing at all like...."
He almost brings up Ms. Hart but then he backtracks before even the hint of the
foreshadowing of the idea can pass his lips. He takes a deep breath.
"No conflict, boss," he says. The sharp smile that Gibbs delivers shines on him
for a moment before directing its unpleasant, nerve-wracking spotlight at the
unfortunate sailor. He's not the killer, but he probably has some clue as to
who is, and Tony knows Marvin will face a lot of Gibbs' wrath in the next
couple of hours.
But the drinks are nice.
"Your boss is something else," Marvin comments, taking a deep gulp of his
drink, and then a deep breath to accompany it.
"Yeah, but you know. It's a murder case," Tony feels like he cushions
something, explains Gibbs where he requires no explanation.
"Not my client's fault," Marvin says. "But enough about the case. That is a
conflict of interests. We're just catching up."
"Yeah," Tony says, sipping his own beer. He feels almost surreal.
"So what are you doing these days?", Marvin asks.
"Solving murder cases," Tony blurts, and it sounds like a joke but it isn't. He
takes another sip to hide his nervousness. In theory, it's just another
childhood friend who drifted back into his life; it happens all the time.
There's drinks and a brief report on how life turned out, and some stuttered
but friendly conversation, and then they go back to their lives and Tony goes
back to his. He's not sure why he's so awkward now, why the uneasiness. Except
he does know why. Such a little thing, he convinces himself, Marvin probably
doesn't even remember it. It wasn't that big a deal.
"Yeah, yeah," Marvin laughs. Tony notices a ring on his finger, a simple band
of gold.
"You married?", he asks, nodding at Marvin's hand.
The other man touches the ring and smiles softly. "Yeah," he says, "five years
now."
"Wow," Tony says, not really knowing what to say to that. It's an old plot, he
remembers automatically. Boys play together, at school, in college, under
blankets, in dark rooms; one of them ends up gay, one of them ends up straight.
"Ibiza wedding," Marvin says and laughs again, rolling the ring between his
fingers, "talk about a cliché. But it was beautiful."
Tony wants to bolt out of the conversation before the lawyer shows him photos
of his chubby, big-mouthed children, but then something catches his attention.
"Ibiza weddings are a cliché?", he asks. There's something there that he can't
quite figure out, something he can't put his finger on.
Marvin is still chuckling, and he shrugs. "Kinda, I mean, but Patrick really
wanted it. He actually convinced me it's traditional, you know, 'generations of
our gay ancestors went to Ibiza, and we shall follow in their footsteps'." He
laughs again and throws his head back, and Tony stares. His hand tightens
around his glass. "I actually fell for it," Marvin adds, and then his voice
turns softer and his eyes go a bit faraway, "but it was worth it. A sunset like
you wouldn't believe."
Tony can only nod, a little dumb, and raise the glass to his lips.
"Anyway, what about you? Found that special someone?", Marvin asks, in the most
friendly, normal, open way possible. Tony takes a moment to find the automatic
response in his arsenal.
"Not yet, not yet," he mumbles, attempting a charming smile. "You know, still
young, time to play the field."
"Yeah, I hear ya," Marvin nods at him and chuckles. "Flaunt it while you got
it."
"Exactly," Tony says through dry lips and wonders, really wonders, which field
Marvin assumes he's playing. Because of the two boys, one has to end up
straight, and Tony always thought it would be him. But it isn't. And he doesn't
know if Marvin is thinking of the same movies, or if he knows some other,
secret movie, where there's no need to choose. Where both of them get to be
whoever they are. Where Marvin gets to marry the man of his dreams, and Tony
gets to find someone, man or woman, and be okay either way.
He walks back to the Yard and falters a little when he exits the elevator.
Gibbs is waiting at his desk, raising a questioning eyebrow when Tony stumbles
into the squad room.
"Too much to drink, Tony?", Ziva asks in that voice of hers that carries. Tony
glares.
"No," he mutters, and sits heavily at his desk. Gibbs is still fixed on him.
"One beer, boss. Trust me."
"Oh, I trust you, DiNozzo," Gibbs says, but it sounds ominous. Tony takes a
deep breath and turns to work.
---
The credits roll. Tony reaches for the remote and shuts off the television.
They sit in silence for a moment. Palmer is still munching on the remains of
the pretzels.
"I didn't know it would end like this," Tony finally says.
Palmer shrugs easily. "Well, it was kinda sweet."
Tony frowns.
"I mean, not exactly a happy end, but you know. With hope. It ended with some
hope for them," Palmer muses stubbornly.
"I mean, I didn't know it would be a movie about two guys," Tony says slowly.
"They're on the cover," Palmer points out.
"I mean I thought it was about them being friends!", Tony says, a little louder
than he intended. Palmer flinches. Tony sighs when he realizes he nearly
yelled.
And Palmer looks at him with some sadness. "I thought it was sweet," he
insists.
"Yeah, it was," Tony relents. "I only meant..."
He shuts up. He can't find anything to say that wouldn't sound bad. He doesn't
even know what exactly he wanted to say.
Palmer pops another pretzel into his mouth and grins. It breaks some of the
tension, but Tony still feels the prickles of the last scene all over his skin.
There was a look in the protagonist's eyes that nearly made him double over,
and not in laughter. It made him want to be on the receiving end of such a
gaze. And he didn't dare move a muscle, because he thought Palmer might see him
and ask why.
"You need to relax, Tony," Palmer tells him, in all the seriousness he saved
for giving him advice at work, in those bad old days when it was just him and
Palmer, secretly united against the Gibbslessness and against his fears of
leading his team to oblivion. Tony can still rely on Palmer's advice, he knows.
So he tries to relax.
One movie at a time.
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