The Best Damned Take-Out Ever
Tony scratched the back of his head casually, drawing on his innate Italian charm to pull off his nonchalance. He was sweating and shaking. Not in the cute nervous schoolboy way either. In fact, to the untrained eye, he would appear to have malaria. Abby knew better and she smiled wider as she brushed past him to her computer. He flashed her a weak smile. She glanced at the computer screen for a moment, heard the inevitable thwack and yelp of complaint, and looked up to greet Gibbs in her normal, bubbly manner.
"Ow." DiNozzo squinted angrily at his boss. "I didn't even do anything that time!"
Gibbs continued to sort through papers without even glancing at him. "You will though." The younger man rubbed his head and sighed. His eyes followed Gibbs as he walked past him, lost in thoughts about his piercing eyes, his gruff voice, his strong hands… "Dinnozo! Are you listening?"
"Yes boss…. What?"
Gibbs glared menacingly, "Then why aren't you moving?"
McGee grabbed Tony's arm and pulled him towards the elevator door. "On it boss."
The inside of the elevator felt strangely claustrophobic to Tony, he nudged his comrade. "What are we doing probie?"
McGee squinted at the flashing red lights indicating the rate of their ascent for a short time before answering. "Running background checks on everyone the deceased has been in contact with for the last five years."
"Sounds like fun."
"Oodles."
Tony glanced at him, flashing a toothy grin. "Bet you'd rather be home playing Elf Lord huh?"
McGee cleared his throat loudly, keeping his eyes strained on the floor numbers. He smiled suddenly as though struck by an epiphany. "So… Gibbs is really crackin' down on you lately."
"What are you talking about Frodo?" DiNozzo chuckled as he turned the image of McGee as a hobbit over in his head.
"I dunno. He just seems to be hitting you a lot more than he used to."
Tony bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous tick developing in his eye at the turn in conversation.
McGee clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels smugly. "Maybe it's a sign of affection."
At this point Tony slammed his hand into the emergency button and the elevator came to a screeching halt between floors. He grabbed the trembling probie by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall behind him. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Jesus, what's your problem!"
There came a loud screech from the elevator doors behind them as they were slowly being pried open. Fingers appeared, then the barrel of a gun, then Gibbs' extremely annoyed face. Tony and McGee looked out across an office full of armed and ready coworkers twitching in irritation when they realized they were in no danger but rather had leapt into action for no reason at all.
Dinozzo smiled and awkward smile and sidestepped out of the elevator, dragging McGee along behind him. He nodded at Gibbs and flinched, expecting his skull to crack with the force of the blow he was surely to be dealt. Nothing. Jethro lowered his gun and let the doors slam closed. He turned and began to walk away, leaving the two field agents trembling in his wake. The snub bothered Tony. He should have been nursing a bruised skull, not a bruised ego.
"How the hell did he get up here so quickly?" McGee collapsed into his chair.
An angry voice resounded across the room. "I took the stairs. Why aren't you working?"
The younger man snapped to attention and turned to his computer. DiNozzo stared after his boss thoughtfully, tapping a pencil against his desk until Ziva flashed him a terrifying glare. When she turned back to her work and Tony felt it was safe to breathe again, he thought of the years he'd spent working for Special Agent Jethro Gibbs. Then he thought of all the women he'd slept with and his stomach seemed to turn over on itself. He felt hollow and a little nauseated. He heard Tim clear his throat rather loudly and turned to see his friend staring at him with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips.
"Some help maybe?"
Oh yea, the investigation…
What could he say? Angry wife, jealous girlfriend, a hooker who'd been cheated out of some money, a gay best friend with just a teeny bit of an obsession. And bam: dead marine. Tony rubbed his eyes when he felt himself begin to doze off, saving his face from a swan dive into a cold carton of chow mein. He thought of his apartment, his bed, sleep…
Ziva dropped a stack of papers on his desk and loudly as she possibly could and he nearly threw the Chinese food at her.
"Do you ever work? Or is this just some place you come to catch some Cs?"
Tony leaned his chin on his desk and squinted up at her. "You mean Zs."
She looked disgusted, "What?"
McGee chimed in, sounding about as chipper as a funeral director, "The phrase is 'catch some Zs' not Cs… Cs makes no sense."
"And Zs do?" Ziva arched an eyebrow, unconvinced as well as tired and frustrated and, considering that she was a crazy woman with a gun and a motive, McGee merely shrugged and turned back to his work. She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. "The friend did it."
Tony rolled off his chair and stretched out on the floor. "What makes you say that? It could have been any of them."
She shrugged. "Just a feeling."
"Not to mention he's had a history of mental illness and violence," McGee flipped through papers, "and has had several restraining orders filed against him."
"DiNozzo, we're leaving. Now."
Gibbs flashed past them to his desk and grabbed his gun and cap.
Tony squinted at his watch. "But boss it's 3am, isn't it a little late to be questioning suspects?"
Gibbs just flashed him a look and continued on past them towards the elevator.
DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee all jumped to their feet and followed. At the threshold of the elevator, Gibbs turned on them. "Not you two. I need you here to continue with the paperwork. Is there a problem Officer Daveed?"
Ziva's eye was twitching and her mouth was open in a look of outrage. But she quickly composed herself and smiled grimly. "Not at all." She spun around coldly and marched back to her desk. McGee dawdled a moment in his normal, uneasy way and then followed.
The elevator ride was the longest DiNozzo had ever experienced. He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and tapped his fingers against his legs. Gibbs stood stalk still and stone faced, staring straight ahead and boring a hole into the elevator doors with his eyes.
Tony followed his boss to his car and slid into the passenger seat uncomfortably, bracing himself for the horror that was a car ride with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. But Gibbs didn't start the car. He just sat, staring straight ahead, leaning his arm against the window.
Tony took off his seat belt and his cap and looked at the man sitting beside him. He swallowed hard. "Boss? What's up?"
The older man looked at him, his icy blue eyes flashing dangerously. He raised a hand and Dinozzo closed his eyes, awaiting the slap on the head which never came. Instead he felt himself pulled forward violently and opened his eyes just in time to see Gibbs' face mere inches away from his. The next few things that happened made no logical sense, but Tony forgot about logic for a while because at that moment he felt Gibbs' lips crushed against his and his world went black for a while. He tasted good. Kind of cold, wet, salty and strangely familiar…
"DiNozzo!"
Tony woke up with chow mein all over his face and the worst headache he'd ever had in his life. Gibbs and Ziva glared down at him.
"Get up, we're going to go speak to the wife before she leaves for work."
The sun streamed in maliciously from the large windows and took immense pleasure in blinding Tony, who was furiously wiping the noodles off his reddening face. Gibbs and Ziva were already in the elevator when McGee walked past Dinozzo's desk.
"Sounded like you were having a good dream." He said, smiling. "Come on let's go."
Tony cleared his throat as he stared down, avoiding his friend's gaze. "Gimme a minute ok?"
McGee's smile broadened. "A really good dream."
When Tim had walked away, Dinozzo let his head drop to the table and groaned. He would never be able to eat Chinese food again.