Little red button

Though he preferred to do Bond imitations, Tony couldn’t resist a Q-line when faced with such a perfect opportunity. Never mind that it was life or death – he needed to vent, just a little, because his heart was racing, nearly as loud as the beeping noise.

“’Now’,” he said, “’If you take the top off, you will find a little red button. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.’”

Gibbs reached out and slapped him across the back of his head, growling, “DiNozzo!”

“Focus, yes, boss, on it.”

Gibbs had managed to get his knife in below the cap and he slowly peeled it off. Tony admired the fact that his boss’ hand didn’t shake in the slightest. For his own part, it wasn’t so much focusing that was needed, as it was a need to not disturb Gibbs. They just both happened to be stuck in the room, so he couldn’t leave. Not that he would leave if he could, but…

Gibbs slowly removed the cap. Below was a red button.

Tony let out a nervous snort, ignoring how the beeping noise was even louder now. “What are the odds?”

“Do I have to slap you again?”

Tony shut up. Except shutting up meant hearing the ka-thump of his own heartbeat even louder, as though it was echoing through his head. He knew he was a second from death – a tiny little shake of Gibbs’ hand and the bomb would go off and they’d both paint the walls with their blood and intestines.

Not that Gibbs’ hand would shake, would it?

He tried to stay positive; at least it’d be over fast.

Would Ducky be able to identify their remains? Or would it take Abby’s DNA techy stuff? There wouldn’t be much left of them, that was for sure.


Suddenly, the room was drowned in silence and Tony realized with a start that while his thoughts had raced, Gibbs had finished the job on the bomb. Tony got the sudden – but not unexpected, nor new – urge to kiss him.

“Good job, boss.” Tony hoped Gibbs didn’t note the squeakiness of his voice.

Gibbs merely looked at him, raised eyebrow suggesting that it was all in a day’s work. Which it was, obviously.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Go get the damn door open. I’m not waiting for the police to come break us out of here.”

Tony got to his feet, careful not to touch any part of the bomb. It might not beep anymore, but he was pretty sure it was still dangerous. Being this close to that amount of C4 was bound to be a bad idea.

He thought back to Bond and Q. “Ejector seat. If only.”

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Author’s notes: This was written in response to this prompt.

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