~~~~~I've always liked the idea of Tony speaking Italian, but haven't found too many things that majorly incorporate it; it's always just a few lines. Just not enough material out there. So I wrote my own. Let's get one thing straight: INTERNET. TRANSLATOR. I know it won't be perfect, I know that. So don't tell me what's wrong with my "Italian". If it's somehow all correct, then let me know, because that's kind of amazing. If it really bothers you, send me a proper translation and I'll fix it. I would honestly adore you if you took the time to that. I hate that I'm probably butchering the language. This'll probably just be a one-shot, I tend to let stories meant to be longer drift (sorry to anyone who is invested in that story I have up on here, I do intend to eventually add to it, but don't count on it). If it catches my fancy, I'll add a lil somethin somethin, but it'll have a solid conclusion, so if I never add on, you'll still be able to sleep at night. If I do add, it will probably only be more one-shots that are unrelated to the first, all Tony-centric, spilling more of his secrets. Also, I am taking extreme liberties with Mr. DiNozzo, Sr., mostly because I'm not technically far enough into the show to have actually seen him. Also, Kate, not Ziva, and McGoo is there.
I don't own NCIS or any of its characters
Tony DiNozzo had been filling out paperwork at his desk for hours, and he was bored. The day had been remarkably unremarkable, and Tony was itching to do something. Breaking from the seemingly endless forms, he leaned back in his chair, eyeing his two co-workers. Kate was immersed her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. Tim was looking at his screen, but his eyes were glazed over and his fingers were still. Tony snatched up a few pieces of scratch paper and surreptitiously crumbled them into balls.
Eyes peeled for any sign of Gibbs approaching, he prepared his assault. "Hey, Probie," he hissed, and Tim jerked to awareness, spinning in his chair to face Tony. Just as he tossed the first of his paper attack, Tony's phone rang, and his aim was skewed. The paper glanced off of Kate's head, and she turned to fix him with a glare while he answered his phone with an innocent look on his face.
"Special Agent DiNozzo," he said.
"Hey Tony, it's Stan. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Your dad is here," said Stan, a man who worked visitor check in. Tony made a point to at least make himself a friendly acquaintance of most people that were generally overlooked in the building; they were usually nice people, and would often let him know when something unusual was going on.
Such as right now.
"Shit. Thanks, Stan. I'll see you later for that beer, God knows I'll need it after this," Tony groaned into the receiver. His stomach hit the floor and he felt his face drain of colour, but he his his true level of dread from his friend. Tim and Kate were watching Tony with open interest, intrigued by whatever it was that disturbed his usually unflappable and happy demeanor.
The elevator dinged open as Tony put the phone back into its cradle, and he closed his eyes, hoping against hope that if he couldn't see it, it wasn't happening. Tony mumbled a prayer that went unanswered, and as the smell of an overwhelming cologne filled his nostrils, he opened his eyes and took in his first view of his father in many years.
Anthony DiNozzo, Sr., had let himself go in recent years. His gut strained against the buttons of his expensive suit jacket, and thinning hair was slicked back on his scalp. His thin eyes scanned over Tony, and Senior let out a grunt, though of satisfaction or disgruntlement, it was impossible to tell. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off, his voice cool and detached.
"Well, this is a surprise. How can I help you?"
"That is no way to greet your only parent, boy. Show respect to your elders," Senior's voice rumbled, his english affected by a thick Italian accent. At his words, Tony felt any control he had flee, and all the anger at his father Tony had bottled up over the years suddenly begged for release. Tony rose from his chair and loomed over his father, a shock of perverse pleasure running through him at having become much taller than his stocky father since last seeing him at the tender age of 12, their only interactions since having been over the phone.
Suddenly aware of his small audience of Kate and McGee, he turned to the only option through which his exchange with his father would be kept remotely private, even if he was past the point of caring enough to control his volume.
"Padre, otterrete rispetto di lei, che è nessuno. Ho pensato che mi ha fatto capire chiaramente di Baltimora che non è stato per mostrare il volto al mio posto di lavoro," Father, you will get as much respect as you deserve, which is none. I thought I made it clear in Baltimore that you were not to show your face in my place of work, Tony half yelled, the seldom-used Italian flowing from his lips.
Senior curled back his lips, and narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Ho il diritto di vedere mio figlio quando e dove voglio. Farebbe bene a ricordare il vostro posto prima di dover mettere di nuovo in esso," I have the right to see my son wherever and whenever I like. It would do you well to remember your place before I have to put you back in it, he snarled. Abruptly, the anger fled from his face and an oily smile flowed across mouth. "Non sono venuto qui per combattere, solo a vedere il mio unico figlio, la mia ultima famiglia," I did not come here to fight, merely to see my only child, my last remaining family. he implored, false genuity seeping from his eyes.
The entire bullpen was now watching Tony and his father, breathlessly waiting for what was to come next even if they couldn't understand the words being spoken. Anything that pissed the always-nice agent off had to be good. They watched, enraptured, as Tony's face grew red at the words of Senior, his mouth gaping for a second before Italian exploded from his lips, his roar echoing throughout the floor.
"SI OSA CHIAMARE LA VOSTRA FAMIGLIA? MI HAI LASCIATO QUANDO ERO UN BAMBINO! UN FOTTUTO BAMBINO! NON VI È ALCUN DIRITTO, BASTARDI! NESSUN DIRITTO! SCENDERE ORA, PRIMA CHE IO FOTTUTAMENTE ARRESTO!" YOU DARE CALL ME YOUR FAMILY? YOU LEFT ME WHEN I WAS A CHILD! A FUCKING CHILD! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT, YOU BASTARD! NO RIGHT! GET OUT NOW, BEFORE I FUCKING ARREST YOU! Tony advanced forward on his father as he spoke, spittle threatening to escape from his lips, his hands gesturing wildly towards the exit.
Senior stood stock still, anger pouring off of him in waves, before screaming back an answer that almost matched his son's words in volume. "MIO FIGLIO NON MI PARLA! LA MIA ULTIMA FAMIGLIA È MORTO, SEI MORTO PER ME! IO NON HO UN FIGLIO CHIAMATO ANTHONY, MA NON LO È PIÙ! NON RISPONDO SE SI CHIAMA! UN ORFANO, CHE GENTAGLIA!" NO SON OF MINE SPEAKS TO ME LIKE THAT! MY LAST FAMILY IS DEAD, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME! I HAVE NO SON NAMED ANTHONY, NOT ANYMORE! I WILL NOT ANSWER IF YOU CALL! CONSIDER YOURSELF AN ORPHAN, YOU SCUM! With that, Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. spun on his heel, short legs eating the distance to the elevator, ignoring his former son as Tony yelled insults at his back.
Tony watched his father retreat back to the elevator, still spewing insults in Italian at him. As the elevator doors closed on what Tony hoped would be his last glimpse of his father, he returned to go back to his desk, only to see the everyone standing stock still, eyes on him. Tony growled out "Cosa stai guardando? Tornare al lavoro!" What are you looking at? Get back to work!, shooing at them with his hands and not thinking clearly enough to speak English. They got his gist, and motion abruptly returned the bullpen, no one wanting to incur the wrath of the still-livid Italian.
Tony thumped into his seat, mumbling curses in Italian under his breath, glowering at the paperwork that still awaited him. Kate, unable to stop herself, sidled up to his desk.
"Tony, Italian? I guess maybe you do know something other than movies after all," she jibed. Tony finally felt his fury diminish abruptly at Kate's clumsy attempt to distract him, and chuckled. He looked up, a happy twinkle slowly returning to his eyes.
"Who, me? Oh, no, you must be mistaken, I don't know any Italian, besides, naturally, the curses," he joked. Kate laughed and went back to her desk, reassured by his joke that he'd be okay. Tony let a smile flicker across his face, and started doing his paperwork. If GIbbs had a problem with it not being in English, well, he'd have to take it up with Tony. And maybe then he'd curse out Gibbs in Italian, too.