"You're sure he's okay?" Tony spoke to Abby over the phone. He and Gibbs had been given a lift back to Gibbs' house from the forensic goth not more than an hour ago, and she'd headed over to look in on McGee.

"Yeah, he's fine," she assured him. "We're having dinner. No more nausea. He's got a little bit of a headache, but other than that, he's doing okay."

"Okay... I guess I'm just over-thinking it," Tony admitted. "I've had this weird feeling in my gut. Just wanna make sure there's nothing wrong."

"Aw, Tony, that's so sweet of you to be looking in on Timmy," she cooed. "He said how nice you were to him on the way home from the hospital. I had to double-check to make sure you hadn't hit your head, too."

"Gee, thanks, Abs," he smirked.

"I'm kidding, Tony," he could hear her smile through the phone. "I'm gonna stay here, tonight. If anything happens, he won't be alone."

That relieved the agent greatly. "That's a good idea. Let me know if anything does, okay?"

"Absolutely. Now, go make sure Gibbs is taking care of himself, too, Mister!"

"I'm makin' us something to eat, as we speak," he told her. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. G'nite, Abby."

"'Night," she said before the call disconnected.

"Checkin' in on McGee?" Gibbs asked as he entered the kitchen.

Tony glanced back at him from his spot in front of the stove, "Yeah. Just wanted to make sure he wasn't still sick," he told him.

Gibbs nodded and approached his side, "Whatcha makin'?"

"Chicken Milanese," he said as he turned the cutlets over in the pan. "When I was a kid, we used to have this a lot. Only, then, I didn't like anything but the chicken part," he smirked. "But as an adult, I've found my tastes rather enhanced... After all, it's just some fried up breaded chicken without the other stuff."

"And what's the other stuff?" Gibbs asked as Tony went to a bowl on the counter beside the stove, and tossed the ingredients a bit more.

"Uhhh...salad greens, cannellini beans, grape tomatoes...a little onion...salt, pepper...olive oil...It's actually pretty good on top of the chicken."

Gibbs glanced around the counter, noting the other bowls. Egg shells sat in an empty container, and one of the bowls had a bit of panko bread crumbs still in the bottom. Tony had literally done it all from scratch. "Where'd you get all this stuff?" he queried.

"I had Abs bring it over from my place," he replied. "I'd planned on making this tonight, anyway. Good thing I had enough for two," he grinned.

"Oh, I get to have some of this?" Gibbs raised his brows.

"Of course, you do," Tony shot him an incredulous look. "You're joking, right?"

Gibbs smirked, "A little, I suppose. Never assume." Tony smiled and turned back to the stove. "You need any help?"

"Actually, if you can grab two plates..." he requested, and Gibbs went to the cupboard to grab them. Tony felt a bit honored when he pulled out actual dishes instead of paper plates. "Just set them on the counter here," he motioned nearby the bowl of ingredients. "Thanks." Gibbs moved to get forks, and opened the fridge to find something for them to drink. "Traditionally, I'd suggest wine or beer to go with this," Tony said, knowing what he was eying. "But seeing as you've had a concussion, we should probably stick to water."

Gibbs cocked his head and grabbed two bottles from the fridge. "You wanna eat at the table?"

"We can eat on the couch, if you want," Tony said. "It's just another dinner, Boss," he smirked.

Gibbs watched him put the chicken in equal portions on the plates, then top them with the mixture from the bowl. He headed into the living room as Tony grabbed both plates and followed. "Thanks," Gibbs said as he handed him one of the plates as they sat.

"I'm happy to do it," he replied, setting his plate down and cutting into the chicken with the side of his fork.

Gibbs mimicked the action and tasted a bite of the concoction. "Not bad, DiNozzo," he remarked.

Tony let out a small laugh around his mouthful of food, "Gotta be good for something, right now, don't I?"

Gibbs swallowed down the immediate need to retort against Tony's self-demeaning comment. Instead, he cut into his food again. "Ya know, I've been thinkin' pretty hard about this," he began. "Berk would've gone up to the cabin, whether you were with him or not. There's a pretty big chance that if you hadn't, he could've gotten away with everything."

Tony shot him a look, "How do you figure?" he narrowed his eyes, then turned back to his plate.

"For starters, we wouldn't have known he was a traitor, if you hadn't told us."

"Yeah, ya would have," he retorted. "Ziva would've told you. Either way, he's dead."

"If they hadn't been distracted with stuffin' you into that hatch, he might've thought to double-check to make sure Ziva was actually dead," he replied. Tony paused in his cutting up the food. "And if he'd done that, we'd all be dead right now. Smith and Berk would be free men. Berk wouldn't even have to be running."

"Yes, he would have," Tony said in a low voice. "I would've figured him out... Then I would've killed him."

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence...

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A/N: Don't worry...whump to follow...I promise ;)