AN: Sorry this one took a while to come out of my head. I've been preoccupied with my nephews, they're two and one years old...

Anyway, you finally get to learn a little bit about Evan and see the beginning of his and Tony's relationship. About damn time, yeah?

Chapter 4

Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr. was not, by any means, a cowardly man. In fact, most people called him impulsive, rash, daring, spirited. Hell, his partner in Peoria had even called him pugnacious once. He really needed to remember to look that up in the dictionary one day.

But a coward? Never.

"Tony, you chicken shit."

His head hit Abby's desk with a thump and he let out a low, miserable moan. "I was hoping for a little more sympathy."

Abby looked at him innocently. "I'm sorry you're a chicken shit?"

He glared up at her. "I'm in fear for my life here, Abs!"

"Stop being so melodramatic." She rolled her eyes and leaned against her desk. "Gibbs isn't going to kill you if you ask Evan out on a date. You always take his teasing way too seriously. So, stop making excuses and text the guy."

"Abby," he spoke slowly as if explaining to a small child, "the man was a Marine sniper. He killed for a living. I doubt an overprotective sniper's got too many reserves about shooting me for tainting his beloved nephew!"

Abby grabbed his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks, and stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "Tony," she said in a deadly serious voice, "he could be your soul mate."

He gave her as perplexed a look as he could, while his face resembled a cross between a chipmunk and a fish. "Abby, I've only met him three times in two months. And, two of those times I couldn't understand a thing he said."

"I've told you, Tony. I know these things."

She, thankfully, let go of his face and Tony hesitantly stretched his jaw in an attempt to get blood back in his cheeks. "Besides, he probably thinks I'm more of a spazz than Probie."

"You're being uncharacteristically insecure."

Tony shrugged and avoided Abby's interrogative gaze. He lasted all of a minute before breaking. "I'm charming, Abby. Or at least I'm supposed to be, right? But, I can't—with him, I just—okay, first time I met him, I tried my Italian drawl. I mean, I'm Italian, I'm supposed to have an Italian drawl. But instead, I squeaked. I squeaked, Abby! Second time, he calls me a pervert and instead of coming up with something witty, I stutter! And then I had no idea what his AC machine was!"

"AAC."

He waved his hands about emphatically. "You see?"

Abby shook her head and stared at him in awe. "Wow."

"What?"

"You've got it bad," she laughed.

In the end, Abby got tired of waiting for him and took matters into her own hands.

The next day, she had apparently convinced Evan to come down for an official NCIS tour, without telling Gibbs. So he couldn't hog his nephew, she had explained to Tony later. Of course once she spotted Tony, who'd been coming back from lunch, Abby coincidentally remembered that she had work to finish before Evan had even been shown the first floor.

Tony wondered if all women were naturally manipulative or if it was just an Abby trait.

"And this is where Ducky works. ...Are you sure you wanna see this, because most people tend to avoid the morgue. It's fine if you want to skip it, you know?" Evan shook his head with an exasperated look. Maybe because Tony had asked the same question twice before as they'd walked to the morgue. Tony looked around the cold, sterile area for Ducky, hoping that a familiar face would make the dead bodies less traumatizing. "Palmer! Where's Ducky?"

The young M.E. assistant started, half turning over a medical tray and dropping the clipboard full of paperwork he'd been filling out. "Uh, he—out. He's out. Lunch break, uh, Agent DiNozzo." Palmer attempted to right his glasses, while glancing up at them and hurriedly stabilizing the tray of sharp instruments.

Evan took one look at Palmer, before turning to Tony and asking if he was touched in the head.

Tony saw Palmer looking at him curiously for a translation. "Yes, this is the assistant that you've heard so much about from Ducky."

Not what I asked, Evan signed with a furrowed brow.

"I agree, those glasses do make him look distinguished. Palmer! Get over here and introduce yourself, stop being rude."

Palmer made his way across the morgue, looking positively delighted, and eagerly shook Evan's hand. "Hello. I am Doctor Mallard's assistant, Jimmy Palmer," he said with an obnoxiously loud voice and over-enunciated words.

"He's mute, Palmer, not deaf."

Palmer's face turned into a tomato. Evan smiled politely with his lips and glared at Tony with his eyes. "So, you must be the nephew that everyone's been talking about?"

Evan nodded and Tony answered, "Yeah, this is Evan Jameson. Gibbs' nephew."

Palmer shook his head in half-disbelief. "Wow. I mean, wow, you're actually related to the Special Agent Gibbs. You know, there was a bet going around that he's actually a cyborg that the agency created. But with you here now, well obviously I've lost that bet. Unless the agency just brought you in as alibi or something...and I should probably stop talking now, sorry."

Evan gave him a look that clearly begged Tony to change the subject, so he pointed to the cadaver on the nearest table and asked Palmer, "So, what's the story with Ducky's latest patient?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, um, Private Jones was found in a parking lot by his car with his throat slit. Poor guy," Palmer gave the body a sympathetic smile, before brightening. "At least it was quick though! Went deep enough to sever his left carotid and jugular."

Tony gave the assistant a look that went completely unnoticed, before glancing over at Evan. The silent man appeared a bit green around the gills and was tugging uncomfortably at the ever-present black band around his neck. "Okay, I think that's enough for us Autopsy Gremlin. Evan here still needs to see the rest of the building."

He ignored Palmer's stuttered farewells and guided Evan through the automatic doors, to the elevator, all the while praying Evan wouldn't vomit or pass out and give him a very awkward situation to explain to Gibbs. Evan took a few deep breaths through his nose and sent Tony a grateful look. No place left for the tour but Abby's lab. She says I am not allowed, the young man signed with a curious glance.

"There's a coffee shop across the street from the Navy Yard. It's practically a part of NCIS." Tony gave what he hoped was a casual shrug.

Evan huffed a laugh, but nodded his consent. Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It technically wouldn't be a date, but hopefully it would be enough to get Abby off his back. And if any one saw them...well, it was just some coffee between potential friends, right? Nothing that Gibbs needed to know about.

It was amazing. Tony really couldn't get his head around it. He'd never heard of such a thing, and yet it had apparently been happening right under his nose for so many years.

"They serve tea?" Tony stared at Evan's steaming mug in complete befuddlement.

Evan raised an eyebrow at Tony's repeated question.

"I mean, it's a coffee shop. But they serve tea?"

The young man sipped his drink with an unamused look.

Tony figured it was about time to change the subject. "So, you like tea then?" He wondered if maybe Abby had been terribly wrong. He wasn't entirely sure he could be with someone who didn't drink coffee. Really, the man was Leroy Jethro Gibbs' nephew and he didn't drink coffee?

I am from Britain. Tea time is not only in films, Evan signed.

"Oh, right." Tony had forgotten that part, to be honest. Without hearing an accent constantly, the fact that Evan was from another country tended to slip his mind. "So, where are you from in Britain?"

Evan thought for a moment, before signing, Scotland and England. At Tony's questioning look, he elaborated. I was born in Scotland, but lived in England until eleven. Then went to boarding school all year in Scotland. Now I work in England. Evan hesitated before adding, But I travel a lot for work.

"What do you do for work?"

Again, Evan hesitated, setting off the majority of Tony's detective instincts, before signing something Tony couldn't understand. The young man put his right index finger to the side of his head, twirled it, and ended with his index finger pointing up and middle finger against his skull.

"I have no idea what you just said."

Evan sighed silently in frustration. I do not know how to say, he signed, then waved his hand quickly as if he were erasing his words from the air. He took a pen from his pocket and grabbed a napkin. 'I'm a diplomat,' he wrote.

Tony blinked in confusion. He wanted to ask how a person who couldn't speak was able to negotiate relations between countries, but he also didn't want to offend Evan. Instead, he focused on a much more important question. "Wait. You're Gibbs' nephew, but you work in politics and don't drink coffee?" Tony asked in an incredulous tone.

Evan did nothing more than roll his eyes.

"So, have you ever met Roger Moore?"

Who? Evan signed with a curious look.

Tony did his best to keep his jaw from dropping. "Roger Moore. English actor Roger Moore, played the British spy James Bond from 1973 to 1985." He stopped, hoping to see a light of recognition in Evan's eyes, but was sorely disappointed. "He starred in seven films—Live and Let Die, The Man With the Golden Gun, The Spy Who Loved Me, Moonraker, For Your Eyes Only, Octopussy, and A View to a Kill!"

Evan continued to stare at him.

"Were you raised in a forest?"

Kind of, Evan admitted with a sheepish shrug. My school was very isolated.

"This just isn't right," Tony shook his head in disbelief. "No man should live without James Bond in his life."

Evan merely gave another hissing laugh and calmly sipped his tea, paying no mind to Tony's growing horror.