9. Incorrigible

.

"Why Allison?"

"Because I can call you Ally and Ally sounds a lot like Abby."

"Yeah, but why Allison? Why not... uh...," she thought for a long moment, "I see your point."

His tone was dry as dust, but he couldn't keep the smile out of it, "I feel very vindicated."

"Why Thomas?"

"Tommy."

"Could have used Timmy."

Tony gave a full-body shudder, "Too weird."

"Yeah, I couldn't see you as a Timmy."

"You don't know how comforting it is to hear you say that."

"So why a photographer?"

He shrugged, "I can fake it well. Got lots of experience with high grade cameras, though some people might question the artistic validity and or tastefulness of using dead people for models. I did set up some references at a couple major Seattle magazines, we even had them print some stuff the forged document guys rigged up in their next issue. Including some very interesting pictures of you Agent Coolidge personally photoshopped. We're supposed to be kind of a big deal in the city and now, if anyone wants to check, we totally are."

"You're having way too much fun."

He grinned like a schoolboy, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of the mischief he could get up to, "I love going undercover. Especially with you, darling Ally."

"So we're never allowed to drop the name game? Never, even alone in the car or the house or the shower?"

"Never ever. Best way not to slip is to start believing your own bullshit." Uncharacteristically, he totally ignored the part where she implied they'd be in the shower together.

"That is a very bleak kind of prospect, Tommy." She was feeling daunted again. Verklempt.

"I didn't know you felt that way about our marriage. I am very hurt."

She punched him lightly, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh sure, sure." He sniffled theatrically.

"Tony-!"

"Tommy."

"That's what I said!" She started giggling in the back of her throat and soon it was pushing against her lips and then it was exploding out of her mouth and she had to double over. "You are frustratingly hard to stay mad at, you know that?"

"I consider it a superpower."

"I consider it annoying."

"That's what makes it fun."

"Uh huh. So I'm a model."

"Yeah, it seemed to go with the whole photographer deal. Sort of a complementary duo. And I didn't want to give you anything anywhere near your real mad skills, but I still had to pick something you were absolutely believable for and that you could convincingly fake if you had to." He paused, sneaking cheeky looks at her for all his voice sounded like the soul of sincerity, "I gave it a lot of thought."

"I'm sure you did."

"Well," he was all charm grin and unrepentant Tonyness, "I had to be thorough. Consider all the angles."

"And what angles!" she finished for him, grinning back with a matching glint in her eye.

"Exactly."

"It's too bad I couldn't bring my chastity belt. Would have been an interesting photo shoot."

The car swerved just slightly. Tony shot her a look, gripping the wheel hard, "Don't do that."

"I didn't do anything, Tommy." The picture of innocence, she twirled the end of her short ponytail around her finger and smiled coyly over at him as she elongated his faux name on the m.

Ignoring her display, he cleared his throat, "Got something cool for you in the package."

"Our Q package?" It had taken just over an entire day on the road, not including sleep, but they'd made their date with the courier and they now had a complete undercover arsenal in their trunk and brand new identities in their pockets. Tony's smart look was now a permanent feature and he'd done something to his hair that made it look surprisingly different. Which she thought was pretty impressive for hair that was only about a centimetre and a half long.

He nodded in the affirmative, "And there are indeed gadgets, 007. Mostly for me, but one for you."

"What? What?" She bounced a few times. It didn't feel the same without her pigtails, but it was still very fun. She'd been hoping there might be something interesting. She almost figured there had to be, what with the all special stuff in the trunk and the Seattle moving van full of other, non-special stuff following them to lend credence to the idea that they were from the city.

"Airbrush make-up. You can totally cover your tattoos, you can even give yourself new ones. No one will be the wiser." He glanced over to see how she was taking it, "I figure the neckweb is a little conspicuous."

"Tommy, that is both super cool and already weirding me out. Blond, tan, tattoo-free- there won't be any Abby left."

He petted the crown of her head sympathetically, letting his hand rest on the nape of her neck for a moment as he told her seriously, "Darling, the Abby is within."

She nodded sagely and bowed to his wise wisdomness. "You're so smart."

"I am, aren't I. You guys don't appreciate me."

Abby made an offended noise, "What did I just say!"

"Well, you're always the exception."

"I'm exceptional."

He had to laugh at that. "Yes, you certainly are."

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"They're married?" McGee hadn't been previously aware that his voice went that high. Apparently Ziva hadn't either, because the look she shot him was equal parts impressed and maliciously entertained.

"Always the best cover for a couple," Gibbs opined, seemingly oblivious to McGee's high C. "People are more inclined to trust you, less suspicious of where you came from, what you're up to. Whole bit. Used to use it all the time."

Ziva crossed her legs and looked vaguely mischievous, "But this is Tony."

"And Abby," McGee added.

"Yeah?" Gibbs glared them down for a second, daring them to raise further objections, then he whisked out of the room towards the elevator with an evil little smile on his face. Probably low on coffee. Or the blood of evildoers. Could go either way.

Ziva appeared at McGee's side, her eyebrows low and her mouth twisted to half its usual size. "You think they will pull it off, this marriage cover?"

"They're sure the last two people in the world you'd expect to get married. Especially to each other." He pecked at his keyboard idly, trying not to freak out any more than he already had. This was turning into a deeply stressful week. "I'd say the evidence and probability was against it."

She leaned on his desk, invading his personal space as usual, "You do not think they will get along by themselves?"

"Oh they'll get along, they always get along. I don't think I've ever seen them actually argue about something besides zombie movies. They're disturbingly alike once you get past the... uh, obvious."

"So?"

"So, who are the two most incorrigible flirts you know?"

Ziva smiled, but she shook her head, "Not undercover, McGee. Tony was a very good husband to me until it turned out our only audience was the FBI."

"But you guys didn't..." he made a gesture with no intrinsic meaning.

"Nah." She walked away, swishing her hips.

He watched her progress and decided he was never going to think about that again. He almost felt better, then he remembered that Abby was not only completely and utterly, radio-silence alone with Tony, she was pretending to be married to him. And she got so excited about getting into character sometimes. And this was Tony. And he was going to need a drink.

But it wasn't like he was jealous.

"I am worried for them also." Ziva offered from her desk, not looking up from her monitor. She had copious interrogation notes to go over. Their guest hadn't been as cooperative as he'd promised to be.

McGee sat back in his chair, "What are we going to do about it?"

"Catch the bad guys," she said, almost off-handedly.

He smiled, "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?"