Tony waltzed into work only 30 minutes late, giving his usual winning grin to Ziva as he sat down. "Good morning, Zee-vah. Where's the boss?"
Ziva glanced up from her book on basic Chinese phrases. "He is with the Director, now why are you late again? Did you get recycled?"
"What? Oh, wasted? Yeah, I was drinking, and it was oh-so-very worth it." Tony waggled his eyebrows for added effect.
Ziva nodded, unfazed by his antics. "Wasted. I knew it was a word you Americans also use when talking about trash. Ironic, no? In any case, McGee called and said the doctor cleared him for work since last night's observation went well. He should be here by 10."
"I'm surprised DiNozzo showed up any sooner." Gibbs swept past, taking both agents by surprise as usual.
"He had a good night of sex, he wanted to come in and brag about it." Ziva smirked over at Tony who rolled his eyes. But then he caught sight of Gibbs who looked suddenly uncomfortable and even nervous, glancing from Tony to Ziva.
"Boss? Are you okay?" Tony made to stand up, but the old glare back in Gibbs' eyes made him stop.
"Fine, DiNozzo. Today is paperwork day. And tell McGee to get his ass in here." Gibbs slammed his coffee down at his desk and picked up the phone. But the whole time he was on the call, Tony felt like the boss was studying him, just staring. Tony shuddered and grabbed his bag and headed to the elevator. He was haunted by a memory those heavy blue eyes gave him—something he could hardly identify, but wanted to.
When he reached Abby's lab he knocked loudly on the already open door. "Abigail, darling, care to do a favor for your favorite Italian?"
Abby grinned at him over a table of blood splattered clothes. "Second favorite, and sure!"
"What? Who out ranks me?"
"Pavarotti. He had some kickass pipes, right?" Abby bounced right over to him. "So is it evidence?" Tony shook his head that Abby even knew who the famed opera singer was, and answered her question.
"Evidence of sorts." He then produced a plastic bag with the glass from his bedside table. "I need fingerprints pulled off this glass."
"Ooo! 'Of sorts'? Something top secret? I can tell because there's not even an official evidence bag. Don't worry, Tony. Scouts honor: I will not reveal my findings to anyone but you, even under torture!" Tony laughed as she rushed to place the bag on the table.
"No, it's just a glass from my apartment. I need to know who else touched it besides me. I was sort of drunk."
Abby slowly turned, with a wild grin on her face. "Drunk...at your apartment...you're trying to find out who you slept with! Give me the condom too, I can tell you which way you swung last night."
Tony pretended to Gibbs-slap Abby. She was possibly the only person that knew he had slept with men. Perhaps his obsession with sex had gone so far that he was willing to try anything. At least that's what he liked to tell himself, although he knew that he definitely was getting more and more attached to the male gender the longer he'd sexually active. "I already know that much, I'd remember getting a girl for the first time in like...two years."
Abby raised her eyebrows. "Wow, you are seriously going gay on me. I knew it was a while..."
Tony shrugged as he started backing out. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You just keep dropping hints I'm still a ladies' man and get those fingerprints, and I'll tell you about last night later!" "Yes!" Abby's victory hiss was lost under the sounds of techno as Tony reached the elevator.
The doors opened and Gibbs and Ziva stood on the other side. "DiNozzo, you better have your gear. We've got a dead petty officer and one in a coma." Tony hastily jumped on the elevator with them, quickly turning to face forward. The quick glance of Gibbs gave him an odd, almost nauseating feeling in his stomach—perhaps a continuation of his hangover.
They returned from the crime scene hours later after interviewing the witnesses at the park. McGee met up with them at the crime scene and Tony laughed as the boy cowered under Gibbs's glare.
The night was rather calming with the soft hum of computers and the quiet clicking of the coworkers' keyboards as they all wrote their reports. Tony had managed to finish an old file he'd procrastinated which put him a little behind on the current cases work. He glanced up and took in the sight of McGee packing up his stuff, while Ziva spoke harshly on the phone, most likely in Hebrew. Gibbs still stared at his computer screen, as if willing Petty Officer Audet to suddenly have a criminal record which could give motive. Unfortunately, or fortunately for his grieving family, Audet came up clean. Petty Officer Jung was less likely the target as he was still alive—barely.
Waiting until McGee had left; Tony began to pack his bag. "DiNozzo!" You barked, Boss? DiNozzo thought, but instead responded with the always safe, "Yeah, boss?"
"Go get the tox results from Abby."
"Well, Boss she only got them 4 hours ago and I know Robinsons' team has her working overtime on the triple homicide they caught yester-"
"Well, you can just keep Abby company until they're in." Gibbs gave his traditional smirk and 'just see if I'm kidding' face.
Tony gave a nod, "On it, boss" and headed to the elevator. He privately was a little happy to get a chance to see Abs. Not only was she the coolest girl ever, but she might have results from his one night stand.
Tony didn't know what he'd do with that information, if the fingerprint matched a name. What if the guy had a record? Or what if he was military? Would Tony really want to pursue the guy simply because of really great sex? Yes, Tony conceded. There was a likelihood Tony wouldn't miss the chance for really good sex again. Maybe the guy was military or something, so he'd want to keep it quiet too. Tony had never been sure of NCIS's policy on 'homosexual conduct', but he figured it was like the military-stay in the damn closet or else.
Entering the loud forensic lab, Tony couldn't even identify Abby right away; there seemed to only be blurs of black clothing. "I already emailed you the Major's results of composition of that goo stuff, so stay outta my way, Fisher!"
"Abs?" Tony started into the room, noticing how many machines were whirling.
The goth girl turned, her black pigtails flying. "Oh, Tony. That triple case is gonna be the end of me." Her eyes widened comically, but her tone was cold. "The tox results from your case are so not close to being done. Don't even ask."
Abby was spinning quickly around the room, moving from one beeping machine to another, while continually going to check on her main computer.
"Abby, I was also wondering if you had the, um...fingerprints...for me?" Tony glanced around, as if the entire NCIS would be eavesdropping to gossip about his gay encounters.
To his chilling surprise, Abby stopped moving and turned around to face him with her trademark pout of disapproval. "I have actual work to do, for real cases. And I'm offended that you would even think to test my forensic skills! I've never given you reason to doubt me, Anthony. This hurts, it hurts like a blow from a polyester-covered blunt object to the occipital lobe."
"What are you talking about? I trust you, that's why I'm asking you to do this! Did you get the fingerprints a match then?"
Abby's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know? Not a test for me or something? This was really a glass from a one-night-stand you don't remember? Are you absolutely sure?"
Tony nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes! Who is it?"
Abby started to whine quietly in the back of her throat. She started bouncing in place. Tony couldn't even tell if she was happy or nervous, but probably both. "Oh...this is good. I mean, not really good because there are complications and the fact you don't remember. You need to stop drinking, how could you not remember this? But it was good sex, right? You're all for a good go, so it doesn't really matter who it is and whether they—oh gosh, what if he remembers? Oh wow, I can't even believe that he wouldn't but you'd think he'd be—"
"ABBY!" Tony shook her shoulders. "Who did I sleep with? You're really started to scare me."
Abby bit her lip, grinned nervously, and turned back to the computer. She brought up the NCIS ID photo of a familiar face. "Last night you had sex with one Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."
A/N: Thanks for such an enthusiastic response, I feel loved! Don't forget to review this chapter too, it gives me a fuzzy feeling inside! EDIT: Thanks to AmyH for pointing out that I initially typed the wrong entertainer, Liberace. Of course, I meant my beloved Pavarotti!
