Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing related to NCIS.

Food of the Gods

By: Vanessa Sgroi

"Ooohh, now that's the ticket," Tony DiNozzo's green eyes widened and filled with unadulterated lust. "Two giant all beef patties smothered in cheddar, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, pickles, onions, grilled mushrooms, and hot sauce. Food of the Gods!"

Ziva David, who was at that moment passing in front of his desk, paused and looked at him askance. "I do not know how you eat that."

"Easy. I just pick it up in both hands and bite into it." One side of Tony's mouth ticked up in a grin.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I was referring to your food in general. You consume it like you have tameworm."

"Tape."

She frowned and pointed. "You have tape right there on your desk. What does that have to do with your food consumption?"

"Tapeworm, Ziva. Not tameworm."

"Oh. Well, still, you eat like your stomach is a bottomless hole."

"Pit."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Tony leaned forward and inhaled, savoring the jumble of contrasting aromas. He could practically taste the ambrosial flavors dancing across his tongue. The agent picked up the enormous burger, gripping it firmly as he anticipated that all-important first bite. "I just know how to appreciate good food, that's all. You should try it sometime."

"DiNozzo," Leroy Jethro Gibbs' voice cracked like a whip across the bullpen as he jogged down the stairs that led to MTAC. "You're with me. We've got a lead on our suspect in the Spindler case."

"But, Boss…" A sharp look from his superior cut off any further protest. "Coming, Boss." Tony stood, grabbed his badge and gun from his desk drawer and his jacket from the back of the chair simultaneously. With a final forlorn look at his lunch, he spun around to follow Gibbs, catching sight of Ziva biting somewhat delicately into her turkey wrap. His stomach growled—loudly—as she wiggled her fingers in a little mocking wave.

(((NCIS)))

When Tony returned to his desk three hours later, disgusted that the lead had turned out to be a bust and slightly nauseous from Gibbs' insane driving, the cheeseburger sat where he'd left it—now a cold, congealed mess. With a sigh, he picked it up and dropped it in his garbage can.

Glancing around the bullpen, he called out, "Anyone have a menu from Fong Wu's?"

Charlie Bates, an agent whose desk was at the opposite end of the room, held one up. Tony hurried over, gratefully grabbed it, and returned to his desk. After a quick perusal of the menu, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Yes, I'd—what? Yeah, I'll hold." He tapped his fingers on his desk, listening to his stomach rumbling rather angrily. When the telephone on the head agent's desk rang, Tony tensed, watching anxiously as Gibbs answered. The call lasted a scant few seconds.

"Gear up! We've got a DB at the Anacostia Museum."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, swore, and hung up his phone, all the while wishing he'd had more for breakfast than a bowl of cereal.

(((NCIS)))

It was late when he, Ziva, and McGee returned to NCIS headquarters. On the way back, Tony had pulled the truck over outside of Twinkle—a local bar—where an enterprising hot dog vendor was just starting to set up to accommodate patrons starving after a night of partying.

While Ziva and Tim secured the evidence they'd collected down in Abby's lab for her to analyze in the morning, he now sat down at his desk with a tired groan and began peeling the foil away from the chili cheese dog he'd purchased. Tony was just picking it up to take a bite when Gibbs marched around the corner.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony bit back an epithet and sat the hot dog back down on his desk. "What's up, Bossman?"

"Go home."

"Really?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding? We're done for the night. But I want you here bright and early tomorrow."

"Got it."

Tony happily began to gather his things. A beer and bed calling his name in a seductive voice.

The last thing he did was grab the hot dog, intending to devour it on the way to his car. It was an inch away from his seeking mouth when the elevator door started to close unexpectedly while he was crossing into the car. It rammed into his elbow, numbing the arm holding the hot dog, and sending it loaded with chili, cheese, onions, mustard, and ketchup down his entire length, the mess coming to rest on his shoes.

With a few colorful curses, DiNozzo gathered up the remains and returned to his desk, dumping it all in the trash can. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jethro staring at him. "Don't ask, Boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't going to." He looked down at the paper he'd been reviewing, hiding a grin.

Tony cleaned up the best he could before heading back to the elevator. Once inside, his stomach let out a long, loud grumble of dissatisfaction. Disgruntled, DiNozzo looked down and muttered, "Oh, shut up. You'll have to settle for a beer when we get home."

Fin