Prompt: "Say My Name" – Destiny's Child Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me or brings me any profit. This includes the show "NCIS" and its characters. Author's Notes: Yeah. Me again. This is kind of AU from the show. 'Cause I twisted, I guess – some of the plots to be the way I want them to be. If you don't like them… sorry. If you do… comments are always welcome/ appreciated/ loved/ like chocolate.
Three Degrees Below
Anthony DiNozzo did not like to admit when he was wrong. Okay, he could admit it to himself- but just not to other people. He was wrong –big time wrong, frostbite versus no frostbite wrong- this time. He glanced through the glass front of the NCIS building and, just as quickly, back out again. He had told McGeek that negative three degrees wasn't cold, not at all. I guess I could tell him I meant Celsius, not Fahrenheit… He glanced at his watch on more time.
What a perfect day to have his car break down. Freeze down, is more like it. So he had to call a taxi to get to work. Late. And then he had to call a taxi to get home. And then he had to brag about the anti-freeze that runs through the blood of all DiNozzos, giving them Superman-like powers which allows them to stand outside in sub-zero temperatures. For an extended amount of time. I'm such an idiot.
He glanced back inside at the rest of his team sitting on a cozy couch. Abby was clutching a stopwatch covered in red skulls in one hand, omnipresent Caf-Pow in the other; McGee typing furiously on a small laptop, probably calculating the time it would take for the taxi to arrive, given the icy roads and the speed of the average taxi driver, or some other math mumbo jumbo; and Ducky with a cap full of loose change and a few crumpled bills.
At least no one else was crazy enough, (or had enough pride) to be standing out here with him. A shadow moved, and Tony jumped. It moved once more, and shrank in size until the owner was just a few feet to the side of him. It's owner called out, "Couldn't you get someone to drive you home, either, could you Tony?"
"I could say the same to you, Director."
The smile on her was gone in an instant. She glowered at the ground and -was she- no, she wasn't. "Could you, for like once in your life, not call me that?" It came out bitter and resentful, but Tony wasn't known for his tactfulness.
"Sorry, Director Sheppard. I can't believe you just said 'like'." He whistled the Twilight Zone theme for a few bars, then stopped when he realized that she was. Crying. Hard.
Two taxis pulled up simultaneously and stalled their engines. Director- cold- taxi- NCIS- crying… "Jenny." It was so soft, he wasn't sure she'd heard him at first, but when her arm twitched slightly so he continued. "I guess your car's in the shop, too, huh? How 'bout you an' me…" he paused to open the car door for her "…go get something to drink." It wasn't a question, as they were already going down the street when he stopped talking and started listening.