Five Ways Anthony DiNozzo probably didn't end up working for NCIS

DISCLAIMER: Gibbs and Tony… It's such a strange relationship. Even weirder is the "ever since I met Gibbs" response to "how long have you been working for NCIS?". I mean, just what does that mean, do you think?

4. Uncooperative Witnesses do like Anthony DiNozzo, after all.

It had been a crappy week. His two year warranty was almost up, and he'd been passed around almost every department that would have him, so his current lieutenant (Cold Cases… you knew you'd pissed someone off when you were put on cold cases…) was making noises about maybe promoting him back to homicide for some other city, like Boston.

He didn't mind the idea of Boston. It was a little too close to home, and the people that lived there, for his tastes, but what really bothered him was that he seriously doubted Ally McBeal was a real person. Even if she was, she probably didn't wear her skirts that short. And probably didn't take criminal cases.

But his week had been especially bad. He despised his current partner for more reasons than his sloppy work, but had been repeatedly told that he, Tony, was the junior partner, and that meant he should shut up and do what he was told, not question every order he was given.

That was why he had stumbled home, more than a little drunk, at four in the morning after a few hours of only-okay sex, and was now dreaming of Ally McBeal being the defence attorney for one of his cases. It would be such a great episode – Ally takes her first solo homicide case, only to find herself attracted to the lead investigator. Can she separate love and the law?

He was just getting to the part where Ally was trying to control her hormones in the unisex bathroom when something hard, heavy, and very real slammed into his shoulder blade. He had snatched the gun from his bedside table, rolled, and come up kneeling on the opposite side of the bed, gun aimed and ready, before he was awake enough to acknowledge that it had felt like a foot, let alone look for it.

The owner of said foot was definitely not what he'd been expecting.

Instead of a mafia hit man (that had been scary shit, right there), a jealous boyfriend (the girl had totally been worth it), his partner (who shooting was unfortunately not an option), or even a beautifully dangerous woman hell-bent on screwing him senseless (one day…), it was some weird middle-aged guy, staring at him like the biggest lizard on the planet over a huge cup of Hot Fresh Coffee. Tony blinked several times when he didn't see a weapon, but didn't lower his own gun or demand explanation, trying to take stock of the situation.

Judging from the light filtering through his curtains, it was still early morning. He remembered locking his door with one hand as he stripped off his jacket. He'd left it on the floor, along with all the other pieces of his clothing that he'd removed on the way to the bedroom. And now he was crouching in bed, naked, with his gun pointed at some old guy who had mysteriously worked his way into Tony's apartment while drinking what smelled like very strong coffee.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," the man greeted blandly, pulling out his ID and flipping it to show his badge and identification.

Tony blinked again. "I have three questions," he said finally, keeping his gun up.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"That wasn't one of them."

"Really."

"First question," he said, struggling to resist the urge to blink. He had a gun in his hands – he couldn't be tired, right now. "How the hell did you get into my locked apartment?"

"Unlocked the door."

He had to blink. "Make it four questions – you have a key to my apartment?"

"Nope."

Tony was not a cop for nothing. He connected the obvious and made a mental note to be pissed off when he finished sobering up. Oh, god, that was it. He had a hangover. Just great. "Don't you believe in ringing? A doorbell or the phone, either way?"

"Much less efficient."

He made another note to be even more pissed off. "Finally, what does a Navy cop want with my sorry ass on a Saturday morning?"

"Ever hear of Jason Tilbury?"

Tony blinked yet again. The name was vaguely familiar, but he'd met a lot of people over the years. "Why?"

"Four years ago, you investigated the death of his brother, Leon, and their parents, Kia and Martin. Jason saw the attack, and apparently you were the only person he'd talk to about it."

After a few seconds, the memory returned, and Tony swallowed, finally lowering his gun and settling back on his heels. He absently drew the sheet up to cover himself and rubbed his forehead with the back of his gun hand. "I remember. But Jason isn't a sailor – he couldn't be more than fifteen by now. What's he got to do with NCIS?"

"His foster family was visiting Washington. Jason went off on his own, wandered into some bad streets, and we think he saw a drug bust go down, including the murder of the petty officer that was buying with bad cash," he explained, and Tony licked his lips, disappointed if nothing else. Jason had been doing pretty okay when he'd last seen him, too. Gibbs didn't acknowledge his reaction, just continued the report. "The kid held it together long enough to call the local cops, who passed it on to us. But as soon as my agent tried to get a statement, he asked for you. Repeatedly. He won't talk to any of my people," Gibbs paused, seeming to roll his entire body before adding, "or me."

Tony gazed at him silently for a moment, his hangover making it all too easy to sympathise. Uncooperative witnesses made everyone bring in another department at least once in their career. It always hurt like a bitch to have to bring in outsiders who might take over the case. But even so…

"So you broke into my apartment, woke me up by kicking me in the back and didn't even bother to say hi before briefing me, all just to get me to come into DC and get a statement?" he asked irritably. He'd do it, but that didn't mean he was any less pissed off.

"No," Gibbs said calmly. "I called your lieutenant and told him you'd be working for me today. He said I could have you as long as I need you. Then I broke into your apartment and woke you up by kicking you in the back," he said, and then turned around. "Get dressed. Your ass is mine, for now, and if I'm gonna be riding it, it had damn well better not be naked."

Tony blushed despite himself, just staring as Gibbs trudged out of the room. It took a second, but then the words registered, and he snorted. It was an interesting way to meet someone, but… hey. At least it was only for a day.

I'm sorry this took so long. I just… sorta… kept forgetting to post. But – but I'll still see you next time, right? Right?