Just a little crack-ish fic about our favorite team. Co-written with blueberry3702, my lovely sister.

Disclaimer: I think it's pretty obvious we don't own NCIS. We just play with them and give them back once we're done, though possibly not in the same condition we took them.


A very special agent Tony DiNozzo stood in the elevator, dreading the moment when the metal doors would open.

He took off the hat he was wearing and absentmindedly touched his hair. It didn't even feel right.

The doors slid open with a ding, revealing the room he usually loved seeing. But today he wanted nothing more than to just press the button that would take him back downstairs and to his car. He wanted to go home and call in sick. Run away and not call in sick. Whatever would work out best. Anything but going to the bullpen where he would be out for everyone to laugh at.

Sighing deeply, he stepped out, pulling the hat back on. He walked towards his desk, dreading every step that took him closer to it.

Why had this happened to him? To him of all people? He silently cursed his bad luck.

Yesterday had been a perfectly normal day; nothing overly exiting had happened and when he had stepped out of the building to head home, everything had still been perfectly fine.

But this morning? Where had all the normalcy gone? Now he shivered at the mere thought of ever taking a shower again.

He reached his desk and sat down, putting down his backpack. He turned on his computer and tried to ignore the looks of confusion on his teammates' faces.

"Care to explain, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow. Tony could clearly hear the amusement in his voice. On any normal day he wouldn't mind it at all, but to know it was directed at him made him feel just a little furious about the whole ordeal.

"Not really," he grumbled under his breath. "Can't a man wear a hat?" he demanded almost inaudibly, clearly not talking to anyone in particular.

Gibbs answered nonetheless. "Not indoors, that's against regulations."

Tony muttered something incoherent.

"Take it off," Gibbs ordered, his tone leaving no room for questions or protests. But Tony, being Tony after all, acted as if he hadn't even heard him.

Gibbs smirked and got out from behind his desk, strolling over to Tony's. Before the younger man could react, the hat was pulled off. He tried to grab it back, but Gibbs held it out of his reach, his eyes widening considerably at the sight before him.

"Did you decide to change your style?" Ziva asked from behind her desk, answering Tony's murderous glare with an innocent smile.

Tony glared a little more before speaking. "Yeah, Zee-vah," he said sarcastically, "I saw this oh-so-attractive color at the store and just had to try it out on myself!"

She chuckled, clearly not bothered by his impolite manners.

McGee looked up from his computer, interested as to what had caused Tony to have such a bad mood. When he caught sight of his hair he just stared. His gaze seemed to be glued to the dark blue strands sticking out in every direction. There was a bright blue shine to them.

"See anything interesting, Probie?" Tony snapped angrily at the Junior Agent.

McGee kept staring, a faint smile playing on his lips as he took in Tony's bewildered state. "Not such a chick-magnet anymore, are you Tony?" he asked, earning another glare from his coworker.

"Shut it, McUnhelpful."

Ziva chuckled. "What is the big deal, Tony?" she asked, her eyes playful. "You could always shave it off."

"Or dye it," McGee suggested helpfully.

"Or forget about it." Gibbs looked a bit more amused than Tony was comfortable with.

"So you're suggesting I should walk around either bald or blue like some alien?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Gibbs answered. Tony stared at him incredulously.

Tony huffed at his boss' amusement. How the heck could everyone find this that funny? "I'll never use that shampoo again," he promised, his voice sounding like he was making a death threat to someone. The shampoo makers, perhaps?

"Trying out a new hairstyle, Agent DiNozzo?" a new voice suddenly asked. Amused. Like all of them.

Great, Tony thought. That's just what I need. Jenny.

He turned around to see the Director leaning against the railing at the edge of the platform in the middle of the stairs. He faked a smile. "Yes, Director. How do you like it?"

Jenny smirked. "It's blue," she said matter-of-factly.

"Does it suit me?" he asked, now grinning at the redhead.

"I preferred your natural hair color."

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, well, so did I, but with the economy being how it is, we take what we can get."

Jenny snorted and descended the stairs to the bullpen. "What happened?" she asked. Tony searched for a note of compassion in her voice, but found none, only amusement.

"That damn new shampoo I tried," Tony complained, "I'll never again buy shampoo that's on sale."

"Try to wash it out," Jen suggested, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Tony grumbled. "I did. About ten times. It just doesn't come off."

And so Tony stayed with blue hair for the rest of the day, planning on paying a visit to the salon on his way home. He wasn't willing to rely solely on his shower to get the blue out, nor would he risk a dye from the store.


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