Hi everyone! Here's the next chapter (wow, an update that didn't take three weeks! I hope you're all suitably impressed!) There's some McAbby in this chapter that I didn't actually mean to put in it just kind of... appeared. Oh well.
Anyway, let me know what you think! xxx
Tony shifted slightly as he opened his eyes, grimacing at the strong smell of alcohol that was lingering under his nose. He gazed at Kate in utter confusion for a couple of seconds, before the events of the previous night flooded back to his memory. Tony sighed heavily, easing one arm out from underneath Kate, who was still sprawled on top of him, and rubbed his head. Waking up, hangover free, from a night in a bar was something he'd never experienced before – an experience he suspected, with a twinge of sympathy, that Kate would not be sharing. Kate sighed a little in her sleep, and it suddenly struck Tony that Kate Todd was snuggling with him. He was lying on the sofa, with a crick in his neck and a sore back, and Kate was lying on his chest… snuggling. The fingers on her left hand were clasped around his shirt, like a child clinging to a security blanket in their sleep, and her feet were tucked between his lower legs. Her hipbones were digging him in the stomach and Tony could feel her ribcage expanding and deflating against his own as she took the deep, slow breaths of one who is entirely dead to the world. Her nose was pressed into the pulse of his neck, and her hair was tickling his chin, but Tony daren't move in case he disturbed her. The only thing scarier than having Kate snuggle with him would be Kate waking up and realizing she was snuggling with him. If that were to happen, Tony thought, he may as well just kill himself right now and save Kate the effort of moving.
"Uuunnnggghh." Kate half-raised her head with a groan, before immediately dropping it back onto Tony's neck with a thud. She raised one arm and rested it over the back of her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oooww," she whimpered, her voice croaky and hoarse.
"Morning to you too," Tony said, flashing Kate a smile.
Kate gave a half-hearted 'shh' at his words, and Tony made a face at her.
"You want to know the DiNozzo cure for a hangover?" he offered, propping himself up on his elbows. "You take two slices of bread, four slices of bacon, three eggs, some cheese and two sausages --"
"Don't," Kate pleaded, grimacing into Tony's chest and swallowing thickly.
"Then you make it into a sandwich and add ketchup, mayo and barbecue sauce --"
Kate rolled onto her side and threw up violently, splashing Tony with vomit. She dropped her hand down and rested it lightly on her heaving stomach, gasping for air.
"That's nice, Kate," Tony muttered, peering at his shirt with a wince. "That's real nice." He wrinkled his nose, trying not to breathe in.
"Sorry," Kate mumbled, closing her eyes again.
Tony gently lifted Kate up, ignoring her slight whimper of pain, and slid out from underneath her. He pulled his shirt and trousers off, walking into the bathroom in his underwear. He re-emerged in his robe, to find Kate sprawled over the couch with a cushion over her head. Despite the fact that she had just thrown up on him (which, admittedly, was his own fault) he felt bad for Kate. Hangovers weren't fun. In Washington, in a rare display of concern, Gibbs had asked them – well, ordered them, Gibbs never asked anyone to do anything – to look after each other. Tony was pretty sure that allowing his partner to get so drunk she passed out on top of him and then had to deal with the world's worst hangover the next day (a day which was, incidentally, supposed to spent playing golf with Stefan) meant he had spectacularly failed any attempt at 'looking after'. Oh well – he'd just have to start now, and put in extra effort to make up for it.
He went to the windows, closing the curtains that had been left open last night. The room immediately darkened, making it hard for Tony to see, but Kate gave a small, grateful sigh. He crept into Kate's bedroom, glancing around at the cupboards and drawers. Uncertainly, he headed for the closet and peered inside. He found a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and took them to Kate.
"Kate," Tony whispered, crouching down beside the sofa and offering her the clothes. "Get changed."
Kate peeked out from under the pillow, frowning, and Tony pushed the clothes at her. He was startled by the dark smudges under her eyes, before he realized they were not, in fact, after-effects if too much alcohol but rather the result of not taking off her make-up the night before. Kate hauled herself off the sofa with a wince and, touching her hand to her head, took the clothes off Tony and dragged herself into the bathroom. Tony went into the kitchen, re-emerging a couple of minutes later with a plate of toast and an orange broken up into segments. Kate was on the sofa again, her eyes closed.
"Are you awake, Kate?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," Kate groaned, fluttering her eyes open.
"How do you feel?"
"Horrible," she whimpered in reply.
"Do you want some breakfast?" Tony asked.
Kate grimaced, shaking her head and looking nauseous. "I'd rather have some painkillers," she said, and Tony grinned, holding up a bottle of aspirin and shaking it gently. "God, I love you," Kate said, holding out her hand. Tony put the food down on the coffee table and shook a couple of pills into Kate's palm, handing her a glass of water. Kate swallowed the tablets, shooting Tony a grateful look.
"This is for you," Tony said, pushing the toast and orange towards Kate.
Kate shook her head, holding up a hand.
"No thanks," she replied. "Swallowing that aspirin made me want to throw up, so…"
"Trust me, Kate. It'll make you feel better. It's the best hangover cure there is."
"No," Kate moaned, burying her head in her arms. "I don't feel good."
"Yeah, well, if you don't eat it I'll call Gibbs."
Kate looked up, horrified. She did not want Gibbs to see her hungover. Especially when she was supposed to be working. Kate doubted that Gibbs would give much consideration to the pain in her head when he was yelling at her, and she certainly didn't expect any sympathy from him. Reluctantly, fixing Tony with the best death-glare she could manage under the circumstances, Kate allowed him to push the plate into her hands.
"Why --" Kate began to protest the fact that Tony was pushing food down her throat, but he cut her off before she'd even got the sentence out of her mouth.
"Because it'll make you feel better," he interrupted. "Will you be okay if I have a shower?"
Kate nodded, not having the energy to make a sarcastic comment about being able to look after herself for the grand total of five minutes. She curled up in a ball, resting her head on the cushion she had previously been hiding under. She wanted to go back to sleep but she couldn't, partly because she felt ill, and partly because she needed to talk to Tony about the night before and she was pretty certain it was going to be one of the most embarrassing conversations of her life.
Tony appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel tied round his waist, and Kate looked up at him. She felt like she was about to put her head on the chopping block. But, it had to be done and the sooner she got it over with… well, it wouldn't be better when she'd got it over with, but she would at least be able to stop worrying about how Tony might react.
"Um, Tony?" she said, fiddling with a strand of her hair. "I need to talk to you."
Tony nodded.
"I'll get dressed," he said, taking a deep breath.
He went into his bedroom, dropping his towel and finding some clean clothes in the closet. He didn't want to have this conversation with Kate - she hadn't said what she wanted to talk about but he could guess that it had something to do with the night before. At the time, he had been more concerned with being a gentleman and looking after Kate than he had been about the consequences of what was happening, but now the reality had struck him hard. He had no urge to relive the whole sorry tale, complete with stuttering, awkward apologies from Kate and uncomfortable looks. It was going to be embarrassing for him, it was going to be embarrassing for Kate, and all in all, it was a conversation he'd rather not have.
With a sigh, he trailed into the living room and sat on the sofa next to Kate. She looked about as scared as he felt, and he realized that as humiliating as this whole experience was for him, it must be a hundred times worse for her.
"How's the hangover?" Tony asked, shifting uncomfortably as Kate looked at him.
"Bad," Kate replied, talking to her knees to avoid eye contact with Tony. "But, erm, I need to talk to you."
"Yeah," Tony nodded, "I, uh… go on."
"Last night…" Kate began, furrowing her brow as she tried to concentrate on her situation and not the throbbing in her head. Having highly important and embarrassing conversations with a hangover was definitely not something she wanted to try again. "Uh… What did I do?"
"What do you mean?"
Kate took a deep breath. "I mean… I woke up on top of you this morning," she pointed out.
"Yeah." Tony squirmed.
"But I don't… I don't remember how I got there. What happened?"
Tony blinked. That was… unexpected, to say the least.
"You can't remember?" he repeated, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, it meant that, as far as Kate was concerned, it had never happened. She had never thrown herself at him and said things that, if they had come out of his mouth and not hers, would have earned him a sexual harassment lawsuit and several weeks' worth of comments on his inappropriate thoughts, outrageous behavior, and general disgusting-ness. On the other hand, now she was asking him to tell her what happened, which would just prolong the agony of the whole thing. Plus it would involve specifics which could have otherwise been avoided with phrases like 'when I… you know' and 'that thing I said'.
"No," Kate said, looking almost as scared as if it were Gibbs she was confessing too and not Tony. "I can't remember anything. I know I drank something blue with an umbrella in it, but then… Do you remember? Were you drunk too?"
"No," Tony said, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "No, I, uh… Not drunk. No."
"Can you tell me what happened?" Kate asked. "Please?"
"Erm, alright then. But don't be mad."
Kate shook her head slowly, lifting a hand to her mouth and nibbling her fingernails.
"Well, you were drunk," Tony said. "Obviously. And uh, there was this old man who didn't want to let you go with me, in case I was a psycho trying to take advantage of you and then…" he looked at Kate's face, as she nervously awaited the story of what happened. "And then…" Kate blinked at him, clearly terrified of what she was going to hear. What could he say? 'And you told him you loved me, demanded that I carry you home, and then you tried to have sex with me before passing out on top of me'? That would be uncomfortable, to say the least. "And then I brought you back here and you fell asleep on the sofa next to me," Tony lied.
He looked at the floor, hoping he'd done the right thing. While he was the expert at explaining how he couldn't have possibly done whatever it was he was in trouble for because he was far, far away doing something totally different at the time, most of which (all of which, normally) was complete fabrication, he didn't like lying to someone's face. Even if it was the easier option for everyone, and it was really more lying by omission than anything else.
"And, uh, did you?" Kate asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Did I what?"
"You know… take advantage of me?"
"No," Tony said, watching the relief flood Kate's face. "No, I can honestly say I did not take advantage of you."
"Thank you," Kate said sincerely, leaning forward and kissing Tony on the cheek.
"No problem, Kate," Tony sighed, slipping his arm over Kate's shoulders and resting his chin on her head. "No problem at all."
---
Tony flicked through the pages of the Playboy magazine he'd found in the magazine rack, glancing guiltily over his shoulder as he did so. Any affection Kate had shown for him when he revealed that he had been the perfect gentleman had disappeared an hour or so ago, when Kate had gone back to bed, swearing under her breath and muttering abuse about his hangover 'cure' which, apparently, wasn't working. She'd also made it clear that she blamed Tony's selfishness for her hangover – according to her, if Tony had concentrated on someone else's alcohol consumption instead of just his own, she wouldn't feel so bad. On previous occasions, Kate had made it perfectly clear how she felt about Playboy magazines, and Tony was anxious not to get caught 'reading' one. Especially when Kate was in such a bad mood.
After Kate had slumped over the sofa, almost in tears, and pleaded for some more painkillers, Tony had refused (she'd feel worse, he reasoned, if they wound up in hospital to get her stomach pumped out) but the sight of Kate in so much pain had drummed up a bit of sympathy and he'd rung Stefan to cancel their little golf rendezvous. And then, being far too sensible (or cowardly, depending on how you looked at it) to face Gibbs himself and tell him, he had emailed McGee with the change of plan. He hadn't said why – tattling on Kate was not part of his agenda, not least because if he told on her, he was pretty sure she wouldn't 'be the bigger person', she'd just think of something Tony had done and tell on him as well – but Tony was sure Gibbs would want to find out why exactly Tony had decided that hanging around the apartment was a better use of his time than doing his job. Which was why he was looking at the Playboy magazine – he was waiting for Gibbs' call, and he was trying to calm himself down.
That's what he'd say if Kate caught him, anyway. Really, he just liked Playboy.
The laptop let out a shrill beep, and Tony jumped, dropping the magazine into his lap. He grabbed it, pushing it under the nearest cushion so Gibbs wouldn't see it, and leant forward. He took a deep breath, grateful to be in Paris, and hit the enter key.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs hollered, as soon as the screen flashed up. "McGee told me you cancelled today's golf game with Stefan. Did you?"
"Yes, Boss," Tony admitted, ducking instinctively. "But you see --"
"What the hell were you thinking, DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked.
"Kate's sick!" Tony protested, gesturing towards Kate's closed bedroom door. "She can't play golf. And I didn't want to leave her – Stefan will think it's strange if I leave my ill girlfriend all alone and play golf with him instead!"
Silently congratulating himself on his quick save, Tony leant back on the sofa. Unfortunately, Gibbs wasn't so easily appeased.
"Let me talk to her," he demanded.
"Uh, who, Gibbs?" Tony asked.
"Kate!"
"Erm…" Damn. Gibbs wasn't stupid, he'd know a hangover if he saw one. There was no way Tony could take the laptop into Kate's room so she and Gibbs could have a nice chat – not to mention the fact that Kate probably wouldn't appreciate having her peaky, hungover self displayed to everyone in MTAC. "I think she's asleep, Boss," Tony lied. Well, she might be, mightn't she? How was he to know? The door was closed. "I'll go and check."
Gibbs didn't look best pleased, but then again, he never did, so Tony wasn't too discouraged. Tony slipped into Kate's room, closing the door behind him so Gibbs wouldn't see, and squinted in the darkness.
"Kate," he whispered. "Kate."
Kate grumbled, pulling the duvet cover over her head and kicking her foot towards Tony. "Go'way," she mumbled.
"No. Gibbs wants to talk to you, what do I say?"
"Say I'm not well," Kate replied, her voice muffled by the duvet.
"I did, but he wants to talk to you. There's a lot of things that make Gibbs pissed, Kate, but I'm pretty sure hangovers are way up there when we're supposed to be working."
Kate mumbled something uncomplimentary, though Tony couldn't tell if she was referring to him or Gibbs. Probably both. Either way, it was obvious that she wasn't going to be much help. Returning to the living room and Gibbs, Tony sat on the sofa and tried to think of a way to keep both him and Kate out of trouble while keeping Gibbs… not happy, exactly, but reducing the chances that he'd fire them both before the day was out.
"What's wrong with her anyway?" Gibbs asked, his voice devoid of sympathy.
"Uh, she's got, uh," Tony cast his mind around desperately for some kind of illness that would be convincing. Unfortunately, his mind had gone blank and all he could think of was anthrax, and that was not a sensible answer. "Well, I think… she's got, erm…"
"Spit it out, DiNozzo, what's wrong with her?"
"Morning sickness," Tony said triumphantly, saying the first thing he thought of that wouldn't start a war.
On screen, Gibbs choked on the mouthful of coffee he had just taken and, too late, Tony realized that 'morning sickness' was probably higher on the danger list than a hangover. On the plus side, at least Gibbs couldn't hold Tony responsible for morning sickness. He and Kate had only been in Paris a week – even if they'd had the inclination, they didn't have the time to get Kate pregnant. On the negative side, their pre-top-secret-mission medicals had come back clear, devoid of any nasty diseases and certainly devoid of any mini-Kate's. Kate hadn't been pregnant when she left NCIS, which would lead Gibbs to only one conclusion. And it didn't bode well for Tony. He swallowed anxiously as Gibbs' face turned purple and he got that expression on his face – the one he reserved especially for Tony when he was really, really mad.
"I swear to God, DiNozzo, I am personally going to castrate you with a carving knife," he growled.
"No! Kate doesn't have… morning sickness… she just has… sickness. In the morning." Tony nodded frantically.
"What?"
"A bug!" Tony exclaimed, wondering why he didn't think of it before. "She's got a sickness bug."
Gibbs' face was slowly returning back to its normal colour. He still looked irritated, but he didn't look like he was going to tear Tony to shreds first chance he got, which was a big relief. Tony took a deep breath. This must be how people felt after near-death experiences.
A few elaborations later, and Gibbs was convinced that Kate had felt ill during the night and had been throwing up since five am. He grumbled about the fact that a whole day's work – or at least golf-playing – was being wasted, but even he had to agree that Kate couldn't be expected to turn up at the country club and prance around with a golf club all day when she was sick, and he conceded that it was in the best interests of the case that Tony played the concerned boyfriend and stayed with her. He agreed to pass on the message to the director, but not without the threat that Kate 'had damn well be better by tomorrow' – an order, Tony thought, that was a little harsh, seeing as it wasn't exactly under Kate's conscious control how quickly she got better. Of course, it was only a hangover and not really a sickness bug, so she'd be better in a few hours anyway, but that wasn't the point.
Gibbs ended the video conference – without, Tony noted, saying goodbye – and the room was left in silence, apart from the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the humming of the laptop. It was strange, Tony thought, how quickly you could get used to sharing your space with someone else. He lived by himself at home, and on the evenings when he got home from work too late or too tired or too jaded from the day's discoveries to entertain female visitors, the apartment was silent. Not in a creepy, horror-movie, something's-about-to-leap-out-at-you kind of way, just in a peaceful, empty way that he didn't even notice. But now that he was used to the noise of another person living in the same apartment as you, the silence was so obvious. Not that Kate ran around all day stamping her feet and beating on a drum, but she did make noise. Tony would hear her breathing when they were watching TV, or her footsteps on the kitchen tiles while he ate breakfast, or running water in the bathroom while he got dressed in his room. Even though he knew she was only in the other room, nursing her hangover and probably trying to sleep, it felt like she wasn't there, and it felt wrong somehow.
Sharing an apartment with a girl – even if it was against his will (at least at first) and for work and not romantic reasons – made Tony feel like an adult. He knew that was ridiculous – he was an adult, and he should have started feeling like one several years ago – but it did. Even if the 'girl' was Kate, and would tear his head off if she ever heard him refer to their current living arrangements as anything like 'sharing a house with a girl'. If he was honest, he expected to have been shot by now. They were already a week into their three months, and Tony had to admit, he was surprising himself. In the weeks approaching the mission, he had eased the stress by thinking of ways in which he could annoy Kate. Things like putting pepper in her coffee and dead mice in her bed had filled his thoughts for hours on end. Sometimes, he'd sit at his desk in the bullpen while Kate phoned Petty Officers or typed up reports, and he'd burst out laughing at the thought of her face when he played yet another trick on her. Kate had glared at him and muttered comments about how he should be in an asylum, but he hadn't even replied with a sarcastic comment or thrown things at her. Well, most of the time. Sometimes, the temptation was too strong, but in general, the thought of what he was going to do to her when she had to put up with him was revenge enough. By now, Tony had intended to have Kate tearing out her hair in frustration. He had wound her up all day before they left DC, irritating her as much as was humanly possible right up until they went, a tearful Abby in tow, down to Ducky to say goodbye. They hadn't spoken after that – Kate went off into her own little world, and Tony didn't have the heart to flick things into her hair when she was so preoccupied. The plane journey was far too serious for him to contemplate being annoying, and since they'd been in Paris… well, he just didn't feel like winding Kate up. Sure, there had been the occasional bickering, and he had teased her, even thrown mud at her. But, although the thought of some his well-planned practical jokes crossed his mind, he felt no inclination to put them into practice. He didn't even sit through an internal debate and then decide to behave maturely and sensibly – the temptation simply wasn't there. Either there was something about Paris that made him want to get along with Kate or – and the very thought made Tony shudder – he was actually growing up.
Frightened that he may indeed be reaching new and unwelcome levels of maturity (something he had diligently avoided since the age of sixteen) Tony spent the next couple of hours enjoying a variety of childish pursuits. He fetched a biro pen from the pad by the phone and started scribbling some lewd additions to the adverts in the fashion magazines that were on the coffee table. When he was done, however, he realized that he had only graffitied the ones that he knew Kate had read, and would only briefly thumb through if she was bored. He contemplated scribbling over the brand new Vogue that was sitting in front of him, delightfully glossy and un-thumbed, but he couldn't do it. He wouldn't like it if Kate did that to one of his magazines – though granted, there wasn't much more you could do to the pages in his magazines – and it didn't seem fair to do it to her for no reason. Damn this newfound empathy!
Giving up on the magazine trick, which had always given him endless hours of pleasure before and was guaranteed to make Kate call him 'adolescent' or 'childish', Tony headed into the kitchen and opened the cupboards. One of his favourite things to do when he was a little boy – when his father was at yet another business meeting and there was no step-mother or maid around to shriek in horror when he made a mess – was take all the mouth-watering things out of the cupboards and put them in a mixing bowl. Eyeing the cupboards eagerly, Tony found himself a bowl and started adding ingredients. Popcorn, peanut butter, frosted cornflakes, crumbled biscuits, mashed-up clown cakes, M&Ms, melted chocolate, marshmallows, whipped cream, butterscotch sauce, gummy bears, ice cream, chocolate chips, icing sugar… Everything that had made his mouth water when he was a little boy went into the bowl, and within ten minutes Tony was wolfing down his sugary concoction. The very fact that it was so revolting made it delicious, and the fact that Tony knew – as he had when he was a boy – that it was completely against the rules, messy and utterly disgusting, and if he got caught he'd be in trouble, gave the whole thing an illicit thrill that made him grin a sticky, chocolatey grin. The familiar excitement faded away quickly though, as Tony glanced at the cupboards and noticed that, although they may be full to the brim with all the sticky goodness one could want, they were almost totally devoid of fresh groceries. Scrawling on a post-it a reminder to go shopping and sticking it on the fridge where he or Kate would see it next time they went into the kitchen was definitely, as far as Tony was concerned, mature behavior. Promising himself that the note was simply a way to remain out of trouble – he could ignore it as long as he liked, and leave Kate to deal with the groceries – half-convinced Tony that he wasn't a lost cause yet, and there was still hope for his inner child.
Sprawling out on the sofa – with his shoes on, just to prove he could get mud on the furniture if he wanted to and Kate couldn't stop him – Tony grabbed the remote control and flicked up cartoons. He'd brought in his bowl of chocolate and a bowl of potato chips, and was perfectly content to lie perfectly still and watch cartoons, only moving his right arm enough to pick a chip, scoop up chocolate, and put it in his mouth.
Around lunchtime, Kate's bedroom door opened and Kate emerged, looking a little worse for wear but not half as bad as she had done when she woke up.
"Hey," she greeted, leaning against the bathroom door with a towel over her arm. Her voice was still kind of husky, she sounded more like Abby than herself, but it was a vast improvement on earlier on.
"Hey," Tony replied, not moving his eyes from the television screen. "Feeling better?"
"Yes thanks. I might take another aspirin, though."
"I put them back in the medicine cabinet above the sink," Tony said, licking sludgy mixture off his fingers. Kate looked a little confused at all the chocolate goo, but didn't mention it.
"Is there hot water?" she asked. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Yeah."
Kate blinked, nodding. Tony still hadn't dragged his gaze away from the TV, and he was eating God only knows what. Still, Kate thought to herself, she'd seen stranger things. She went into the bathroom, dragging the laundry basket across the door in place of a lock (Tony still hadn't fixed the latch, and despite his current interest in 'Hey Arnold' dubbed over in French, Kate was pretty sure the lure of a naked woman would be too much for him). Making a mental note to fix the lock herself that day, she went over to the sink and brushed her teeth, gazing at herself in the mirror. Alcohol, she decided, was evil. Evil. Not only did it wipe almost an entire evening from her memory, give her a headache and made her mouth taste funny – not to mention make her throw up – but it made her look like she'd just crawled out of a cave, too.
Although she'd rinsed her mouth earlier on, the taste of alcohol mixed with vomit still lingered in her mouth, and Kate brushed her teeth for a good five minutes before she could finally taste minty toothpaste instead of stale vodka. Her dentist would be so proud. Running her tongue over her freshly gleaming teeth, grateful that her mouth no longer felt (and tasted) like it was lined with some kind of furry mould, Kate opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the bottle of aspirin. She didn't feel sick anymore – in fact, she was getting kind of hungry – and her headache had faded to a dull but constant throbbing behind her eyes. She swallowed the aspirin quickly, grimacing as it went down her throat, and turned on the shower.
The warm water washed away all the grime and dirt, and the fruity mixture of shampoo, conditioner and body wash overpowered the lingering smell of alcohol until Kate didn't feel like a walking, talking liquor bottle anymore and actually felt human again. Thanks to the aspirin, her headache had diminished to a mostly-ignorable level and she felt better than she had all morning.
Returning to the living room with her damp hair curling around her face and tickling her cheeks, Kate was surprised to see Tony exactly where he'd been when she went into the bathroom. She knew for a fact that she'd been in there almost an hour, but the only change in the living room was the cartoon on TV.
"Um, are you alright, DiNozzo?" Kate asked.
"Yeah."
"Ok-ay…" Kate stared for a minute as Tony's eyes widened at the sight of a bully stomping across an animated school playground, and shook her head. She made her way to the sofa, and hovered by the arm, above Tony's head.
"Thanks for covering for me with Gibbs earlier," she said, pushing hair out of her face.
"Welcome," Tony said.
"Okay. Well. I'm going to make some lunch, do you want some?"
"No thanks. This is good."
"Yeah… What is that?" Kate asked, peering in disgust at the gooey mixture Tony was eating.
"Chocolate. Gummy bears. Peanut butter. Bunch of stuff, it's good. Wanna try?"
Kate wrinkled her nose. Her hangover may well have more or less gone away, but she still couldn't stomach whatever it was Tony was eating.
"No," she said firmly. "Thanks."
"Suit yourself," Tony shrugged, shoveling more into his own mouth.
"You know," Kate said, walking towards the kitchen to make her own – more nutritious – lunch, "One day, all your teeth are just going to fall out. And don't expect me to come and hold your hand at the dentist while you're getting your cavities filled. You can suffer all by yourself."
"Fine," Tony called back, as Kate made a sandwich in the kitchen. "Maybe I'll just call Gibbs right now and tell him the real reason you were ill."
"And admit to him that not only did you take me out, fail to stop me getting absolutely plastered and therefore hungover, but that you lied to him about it? Good luck with that, DiNozzo. I'd say it's been nice knowing you, but..."
"I don't know why everyone thinks you're so nice," Tony said, joining Kate in the kitchen. "You're mean."
"That's for you," Kate said, handing him one of the sandwiches she'd just made and flashing him a sweet smile.
Tony nodded his thanks, sitting down at the table and cramming the sandwich into his mouth. He garbled something incoherent at Kate, nodding appreciatively.
"Excuse me?" Kate said.
Tony swallowed his mouthful of food. "I said this is good," he said, taking another large bite. "How do you feel?"
"Well," Kate smiled, sipping her glass of water and shrugging. "I'm never going to drink again, but I think I'll live."
Tony sighed mournfully. "Dammit," he said, "There was me thinking you were going to kick the bucket and I'd finally get some peace."
Kate grinned, taking a bite of her own sandwich and trying not to laugh at Tony's faux-miserable expression.
"Hey, Kate," Tony said, after a few minutes of silent eating. "Do you think I'm too mature?"
Kate spat out the mouthful of water she had just taken, spraying Tony with spit and water. He stared at her, his mouth open, and gazed down at his shirt, which was now well and truly drenched. Kate clamped her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Tony looked so funny, sitting there in his shirt, with a totally outraged expression on his face.
"I'm sorry," she giggled, trying to look contrite, but slightly ruining the effect with the laughter. "I didn't mean to."
Tony, looking like he was about to cry, pulled his shirt off and threw it towards the washing machine with a sigh. It landed on the floor halfway across the kitchen, and he pouted.
"I hope you're happy," he said to Kate, indignation all over his face. "If I managed to avoid your cootie germs when you threw up on me earlier, now I'm well and truly infected."
Kate shook her head, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, and tried not to laugh.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, struggling to breath. "But... trust me, Tony, being too mature is the last problem you have. I mean, come on, you're worried I gave you cooties. What are you, nine? If you do have 'girl germs', it certainly wasn't me that gave them to you."
Tony grinned. "It's true," he said. "I do have a certain amount of sexual prowess. Something about me must be irresistible. Maybe it's my charm. Or my Italian heritage. Or perhaps just my fantastic good looks…"
"DiNozzo, if you don't want me to throw up on you again, I strongly recommend that you shut up," Kate suggested.
After lunch, mainly due to Tony's shirt lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, Kate announced she was going to do the laundry. Which was fine by Tony, until she told him he was going to help her. He didn't want to do laundry. He wasn't good at it, he never did it right, and on the time-wasting scale, he considered it to be on a par with making your bed – why bother, when you would only get back in it later that night? Unfortunately for him, his protests didn't work with Kate and he soon found himself helping her iron freshly washed clothes.
"DiNozzo, you're doing it wrong!" Kate scolded, as Tony put the iron down on top of the shirt she had handed him and turned away to clear a space on the counter. She grabbed the iron and set it down, rubbing the burn mark on Tony's shirt and throwing it at him. "You're such a moron," she said. "How can you be a grown man and not know how to iron your own clothes?"
"Sorry," Tony sighed. Usually he believed in the theory 'if I do it wrong I won't have to do it again' but Kate had quickly dispelled that idea. If he did it badly, she'd informed him, he'd have to carry on until he got it right. Fortunately, this was the last shirt before the evil iron would be put away and he'd only have to fold clothes – which may be totally boring, but at least, as Kate pointed out to him, he wouldn't be able to do any damage. Nice to know she had faith in him.
The laptop, which Tony had rescued when he got a new shirt after lunch, in the hopes that Kate wouldn't notice him playing games, beeped.
"Is that Gibbs?" Kate asked, wondering if she should disappear for a while so Tony could take the video conference and Gibbs wouldn't pick up that she had made a miraculous recovery.
"Nope," Tony said, peering at the screen with a slight frown. "It's Abby."
"Abby?" Kate repeated. Although anyone at NCIS could get hold of them if they needed to, Kate was a little surprised that Abby had been allowed to waltz into MTAC and start a video conference. "They let Abby into MTAC?"
"No," Tony said, reading the screen. "That's her personal computer, I bet she's at home."
Kate leant over and tapped enter, and Abby appeared on screen. She was sitting on her sofa, wrapped up in a black blanket. Her pigtails were still in place, but her make up wasn't, which made her look slightly surreal, like she was only half complete.
"Hey guys!" she grinned, her smile stretching from ear to ear.
"Abby!" Tony exclaimed, raising his hand in a high-five like gesture before lowering it, looking embarrassed that he'd just tried to high-five a computer screen. Kate laughed.
"Loser," she teased.
"Aw, it's okay, Tony!" Abby said, holding her own hand up. "Air five! What are you guys up to?"
"Oh, you know, saving the western civilization from crazy terrorists, one day at a time," Tony grinned.
"Laundry," Kate replied, rolling her eyes at Tony.
"Ooh, how domestic," Abby smiled.
"Are you okay?" Kate asked, cutting in as Tony opened his mouth, no doubt to make some inappropriate comment.
"I miss you," Abby admitted, her smile fading away a little. "It's not the same without you – the bullpen's too quiet. Gibbs hasn't got anyone to yell at."
"He's got McGee," Tony shrugged. "It'll do him good – it's character building."
"Do you want to talk to him?" Abby asked.
"Uh, McGee?" Kate said, frowning. "Is he at yours?"
Abby nodded, beckoning to someone off screen, and McGee appeared by her side.
"Hi," he said, waving at them.
"Erm, hi McGee," Kate said, her eyes wide at the thought of McGee spending the night at Abby's.
"Probie!" Tony barked, sounding more like Gibbs than Kate had ever heard him and making her jump out of her skin. "Put some damn clothes on! Nobody here wants to look at you in your skivvies!"
"Hey!" Abby protested, as McGee got to his feet. She yanked him back down, glaring at Tony. "You speak for yourself! You stay right here, McGee. I like you in your skivvies."
Kate and Tony shared a look, eyes wide, and Abby laughed happily.
"So what's it like in Paris?" she asked, settling against McGee and drawing the blanket tighter around herself. "Tell me everything. I haven't been since I was twenty-one."
"It's gorgeous," Kate gushed, and Tony let her speak, shooting a death glare at McGee when he rested his hand on Abby's thigh. He sat back and listened while Kate regaled Abby with tales of everything they'd done and what they still had to do, until Tony felt like turning into a true Gibbs clone and saying 'we're here to work, you know!' He restrained himself though – it really would be too much, he felt, and Kate would win the argument anyway.
When Kate and Abby paused for breath, McGee took the opportunity to point out that they had to go to NCIS. Abby looked crestfallen, as did Kate, but they said their goodbyes and closed down the computer.
"Are you alright?" Tony asked, when the screen was blank again.
Kate nodded, blinking quickly and glancing at the ceiling in a vain attempt to stop herself crying. She hated crying, especially in front of other people. Most particularly Tony. It was alright, she supposed, if she actually had something to cry about – that was understandable. She'd cried over cases before – after a particularly gruesome murder or if the case involved kids, she'd go home and ring her boyfriend or her brother, once or twice even Tony, and cry down the phone to them about the horrors she'd seen until she felt better. Then she'd come into work the next day, resilient as ever, and get on with things. But this was different.
"Are you going to cry?" Tony asked, nervously.
"No," Kate whispered, shaking her head and closing her eyes. "No."
Tony hovered for a second, watching while Kate fought with herself, then bit his lip.
"You can if you want," he offered, in case it was his presence that was stopping her letting out her emotion. "I'll go away."
Kate shook her head again, digging her fingers into her palms. "I don't want you to go away," she said, a little hitch in her voice as she tried not to let it tremble.
"Are you upset because you want to go home?" Tony asked, fidgeting.
Kate nodded and Tony took a step forwards. Shyly and somewhat awkwardly, he put his arms around Kate's shoulders and pulled her against his chest. For a second or so, Kate was stiff, but then she relaxed against him and rested her forehead on his chest. The awkwardness melted away and Tony gently stroked Kate's hair, while she took a couple of deep breaths and regained her composure.
"Okay?" Tony asked, as Kate pulled away from him.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Thanks."
"Any time," Tony said, stroking Kate's fringe away from her forehead. "And I mean that, Kate, okay?"
Kate nodded gratefully. "If we finish this," she said, gesturing to the stacks of laundry, "Then we can go out?"
"Sure thing," Tony nodded, as Kate turned away and began folding. "So long as by 'out' you don't mean another bar, because that didn't go so well last night."
Kate laughed, and turned around to reply. All speech failed her, though, at the sight of Tony standing by the kitchen counter with a red satin bra on over his shirt. His arms were hooked through the straps, which had fallen to mid-bicep, and he was twisting around at all sorts of impossible angles while he tried to do it up at the back.
"DiNozzo!" Kate exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "What the hell are you doing?"
Tony saw her staring at him and turned almost as red as the bra, looking sheepish. "Sorry," he muttered, taking it off. "Sorry."
"Give me that," Kate ordered, snatching it from Tony's hands and throwing it on the pile of clothes. "What's the matter with you?"
"Sorry," Tony repeated, shifting from foot to foot. "It's just… I can get them off, I was just trying to see if I can get them on."
"Well go and buy your own, you little cross-dresser, you'll stretch mine with your great big man back! And you had better not have looked at the size."
Tony grinned. "I don't need to look at the size," he said. "I can tell what size you are just by looking. I've removed many a bra in my time, Miss Todd, and all that experience teaches a man a thing or two."
"You've got some kind of horrible little fetishy obsession!" Kate exclaimed, snatching up her pile of clothes and taking them into her bedroom.
"I haven't got a 'fetishy obsession'," Tony said, following her into her room and sitting on the bed. "I'm simply an expert. A connoisseur, if you will."
"Of what?" Kate asked, hanging the clothes in the closet and fixing Tony with a disbelieving look. "Women's underwear?"
"Yep."
"That's not a connoisseur, that's a pervert."
Tony grinned, going over to the drawer Kate had just put her bra in and opening it. He peered in, sneaking a hand in, but Kate glared at him.
"Get out of there, DiNozzo," Kate ordered. "Why don't you do something constructive, like fix the lock on the bathroom door?"
"No thanks," Tony said, shaking his head and poking through Kate's underwear. "Ooh, nice thong, Katie. Is it part of a set?"
"DiNozzo!" Kate snapped, slamming the closet door and narrowing her eyes at him. "Get out of my bedroom! Now. Out!"
Tony scampered out of the room, closely followed by Kate.
"From now on, that room is out of bounds, is that clear?" she said. Tony nodded. "Good. If I catch you in there without my permission, I swear, I'll throw you out the window. Got it?"
"Yes Ma'am," Tony whimpered.
"Good. And Tony?"
"Yes?"
"Give me back my thong."
"I didn't take it!" Tony protested. He squirmed under Kate's gaze, weighing up what would be worse – admitting he took it or waiting for her to find it later.
"DiNozzo, give it back!"
"I haven't got it!"
"Give it to me now, or I'll make you wear it."
"It won't fit --"
"Good."
Tony whimpered slightly, cringing away from Kate as he reached into his pocket and handed her the lacy black fabric.
"I'm sorry," he pleaded, as Kate glared at him. She didn't say anything, but her gaze was enough to convince Tony that if he ever did that again then he would suffer serious bodily harm. He winced as she stalked off into her bedroom, returning seconds later.
"Are we still going out?" he asked, eager to get out into the street where there would be witnesses should Kate decide to murder him.
"Yes," Kate replied, fetching her coat and picking up her handbag. "Move it."
---
"So," Tony said, as they strolled along the river. "How's things with you?"
"Uh, good, thank you, you weirdo," Kate replied. Honestly. Men came out with the strangest things. Fair enough, if they hadn't seen each other or spoken for a while, but seriously. Who asked how things were with you when you had been living in the same apartment for a week?
"Charming," Tony muttered. "I don't know how your boyfriend puts up with you."
Kate rolled her eyes. "I don't have a boyfriend, DiNozzo, and stop fishing."
Dammit. Tony scuffed his foot on the floor. Kate was quick. Not that he was fishing, he was just curious. And if he came straight out and asked, Kate would throw him in the river. If it was Abby, he could just ask. If he 'just asked' Kate, she would think he was hitting on her. And he had to admit, he couldn't blame her. 'Do you have a boyfriend?' was one of the most pathetic chat-up lines ever, if it could even be called one.
"So, how come?" Tony asked, a couple of minutes later.
"How come what?"
"How come you don't have a boyfriend?"
"That's hardly any of your business, is it, DiNozzo?" Kate pointed out.
Tony sighed. "I'm not trying to be nosy," he said. "I'm just interested. Not, uh, interested in being your boyfriend, I mean, just – not that I'd mind being your boyfriend, there's nothing wrong with it, I – uh, I'm not hitting on you, obviously – not obviously, I mean, you're very hit upon-able, but I wouldn't – not because of you, because it's inappropriate – erm…"
Kate laughed. "Did you eat Jimmy Palmer?" she asked, but Tony didn't reply. He thought it was best to keep his mouth shut, after the mess he'd made of his last sentence. "I know what you meant, Tony, don't worry."
Tony breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't horribly offended her. Plus, Kate had called him 'Tony' and not 'DiNozzo' which was a pretty good indicator that she wasn't pissed off at him.
"So what happened to Bill? I thought you two were getting on like a house on fire."
"His name's Phil, and we broke up before I left DC."
"Why?" Tony asked. "What did he do to you?" He put on an exaggerated tough-boy accent. "Do I need to send the boys round to his place for a little chat?"
"DiNozzo," Kate sighed. "Stop pretending to be in the Mafia, it's not big and it's not clever. It just gets on people's nerves, and one day it'll get you arrested. Or killed. And Phil didn't do anything to me, we just broke up, so you don't need to 'send the boys round' to smash his face in. He's a nice guy, alright?"
"Can't be that nice if you broke up," Tony pointed out.
"Yes, he can." Kate replied. "It just didn't work out – he's still a nice guy." She didn't want poor Phil to be woken up in the middle of the night by an angry mob of Tony's friends, just because he was feeling a little over-protective. Sure, she had plenty of ex-boyfriends who did deserve that kind of treatment, but Phil wasn't one of them.
"Whatever."
"Look," Kate said, stopping and touching Tony's arm. "Did you ever meet someone who was really hot but you just didn't like them that much?"
"No," Tony admitted, and Kate rolled her eyes. "Alright," she said, "Did you meet someone who was a really nice person, but you just weren't attracted to them?"
"Sure," Tony nodded. "Is that why you and Will broke up?" he asked. "You're too ugly?"
"Phil. And thanks, DiNozzo, that's really nice."
"I was kidding, relax," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Obviously he was the ugly one and you were the mean one."
"You," Kate said, pointing a gloved finger sternly at Tony, "Are one step away from being pushed into the water."
Tony grinned, and Kate laughed at him, leaning on the railing and looking at the water below them. She would never really push Tony in it – well, not unless he did something that truly warranted being shoved into an icy, dirty river – but she had to admit, it would be funny if he did fall in. She could just imagine his plaintive howling when his clothes got ruined. She heard a soft whirring sound behind her and turned to find Tony holding a digital camera.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" Kate demanded.
"Yeah," Tony shrugged. "So?"
"So delete it," Kate ordered, grabbing for the camera.
"No." Tony held the camera up and took another shot, snapping away as fast as he could as Kate tried to snatch the camera off him and then gave up and just hid her face in her hands and turned away.
"Stop it!" Kate protested, peeking out at Tony through the gaps in her fingers. "If you want to take a picture then go on, but don't just keep at it all the time!"
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Tony asked, taking another picture.
"Yes! Tony!"
"What a shame," Tony grinned. Kate ducked out of his shot, glaring at him, and Tony laughed. Winding Kate up was fun. All his earlier worries about being an adult had disappeared – Kate was calling him all sorts of names, but it was just adding to his delight and spurring him on. Relishing the chance to piss Kate off without doing anything that would get him into trouble with Gibbs – he could hardly complain about taking photographs, after all – Tony grabbed Kate and hauled her close to him, holding the camera up and taking a picture of them both. When he finally gave up and put the camera away, Kate's cheeks were pink and she looked mildly frustrated, but she wasn't fuming.
"You're so annoying," she said, batting his arm lightly.
They carried on walking, making their way along the river. A duck waddled across the path in front of them, hopping down into the water with a slight splash and ducking it's head under, before swimming away in a stream of ripples, quacking loudly.
"Aww," Kate laughed. "Cute."
"Why's that cute? All it did was stick it's ass in the air. I could do that," Tony said. "You wouldn't think I was cute."
"You aren't a duck."
Raising an eyebrow, Tony bent forward so his head was at knee height, and flapped his arms. "Quack," he yelled. "Quack quack." He got up and grinned at Kate, winking at her as she glanced around, red in the face. "Embarrassed now, aren't you?" he teased.
"Yes!" Kate hissed, glancing around. An old couple on a bench were staring at Tony, utter confusion on their faces, and Kate grabbed his arm. "Sorry," she said to the elderly pair, smiling and trying to drag Tony away. "I'm sorry about him." The old lady peered through her large, round glasses at Tony, and frowned. She said something to her husband, sounding concerned, and Kate dug her nails into Tony's arm. "Idiot," she said, under her breath. "Go and apologize to those old people for being such a freak and ruining their walk."
"No," Tony muttered, enjoying himself far too much to really care what a couple of golden oldies thought about him.
"Fine," Kate said. "I'll do it. How do you say 'day release' in French?"
"Okay," Tony said, giving in. He certainly wasn't going to tell Kate how to say it in French, but chances were good that the dear old couple could speak English, and Kate would have no trouble convincing them that he belonged in the nearest nuthouse after the little display they'd just witnessed. "Let's just go, alright?"
Kate glanced over her shoulder and found the couple still staring at them, so she agreed and hurried away with Tony. Several minutes later, they reached the main street. The were a lot more people here, and Kate hoped Tony wouldn't do anything stupid like he had done earlier. She guessed he wouldn't – it was one thing to look stupid in front of a couple of people on an abandoned stretch of river. It was entirely different to make an idiot of yourself in a packed out tourist location. Kate led the way down the street, watching the river, and looked over at the rows of little cafés and restaurants that were scattered around. It was cold out, and the sky was grey, but the tables outside the cafés were all full, mainly with couples gazing at the river or the Eiffel Tower, or kissing across the table.
"Have you noticed how everyone in this place seems to be somehow romantically involved with whoever so happens to be nearest to them?" Kate asked Tony. "I swear I saw that woman kissing some other guy when we passed her back there."
Tony looked around – it was true. Most people he could see were couples. He looked at Kate, leaning with her back against the railings and staring at him, clearly expecting him to agree with her and make his own little contribution.
"Maybe it's the wine," he joked.
Kate wrinkled her nose at Tony and shook her head. "No it isn't," she said. "There's wine everywhere. It's Paris. It addles people's brains. Everybody knows that Paris is a city for lovers. There's all this hype about it being this amazingly romantic city, so when people get here they feel obligated to somehow reinforce that image."
"Well, you know what they say," Tony said, stepping closer to Kate so he was invading her personal space and she had to lean back to avoid him.
"About what?" Kate asked warily, eyeing Tony suspiciously and bringing her hands up to his chest to create a barrier between them. Whatever crazy idea he'd got into his head now, she wasn't sure she liked it.
"When in Rome…"
"We're not in --" Kate didn't get to finish her sentence, because Tony had one hand on her back to stop her toppling into the river and his mouth was pressed against hers.