A/N: Hello, all, I greet you all at 11:12 PM, from my bed, because I am super determined to get you this chapter before tomorrow. So, there. Just so you know, this chapter is incredibly fluffy. Trust me. If this bothers you, please read no further than the group laughing. If you have seen Under Covers (which, if you are a true NCIS/Tiva fan, you have...), you should know what comes after that. Smiles. As for Buck's accent, I'm not sure if I've stated this before, but, read his words phonetically. I sounded them out to myself first, before I wrote them down. If you have to say his lines outloud to get them, go right ahead. :) Trust me, it's funnier that way. Before I let you read, because I know that's what you're all really here to do, laughs, I just want to thank all of the wonderful people who have reviewed thus far, and anyone who has put Just A Day at the Office on their Story Alerts list. It means sooo much to me. Okay, go read. Love, Kat.
"He gives me an…odd….feeling, David," I complain as I grab my purse from the car. "I cannot describe it, but there is something off about him." After digging in my purse for a moment, I hand the key off to Tony, who just looks at me analytically. "What?"
"Well, what did he do specifically that made you feel weird?" he mumbles, fighting with the lock. "Was it a look he gave you, or something he said…? The way he stood?"
I shake my head. "That's just it, David, I haven't the slightest why he creeps me out, but he does." Watching him fumble with the doorknob, I reach forward and turn it in the opposite direction. The door swings open and we are greeted by a breathtaking foyer.
Green walls bordered with off-white crown molding, hand-painted portraits hung amongst mirrors, a small chandelier suspended from the ceiling…For moment, one could forget that they were on a farm at all.
After regaining my breath, I murmur, "Toto, I do not think we are in Kansas anymore…" The only response from Tony is a bright grin and applause. "Why must you do that?"
"That was a spot-on movie reference, Ana!" Suddenly he is wrapping his arms around me from behind and whispering in my ear, "And I like when you call me Toto." He nips at my neck, right below the ear, before retreating to the car to retrieve our luggage. A brilliant flush rises from my chest all the way up into my cheeks, and I hope for my sake, Tony has missed it.
I can feel a presence behind me, and turn around expecting to see Tony holding out my luggage. Instead, I find Buck standing in the doorway, staring at me lecherously. "Is there something I can do for you?" My words seem to snap Buck out of his trance, but he says nothing. Thankfully, Tony returns, both my luggage and his in tow.
After looking between me and the farmer several times, he finally sets down my suitcases and smiles. "Buck, we're going to buy the house. I just called the realtor and she said she'd be out tonight with the papers … There is nothing that can possibly happen to make us re-nig on this promise, so would it be okay if we spent the night here?"
"Whah, sho! Yer waylc'm t'jes stay raht her `n relax. Y'like the house, that's fayentastic!"
I eye Buck warily. There is something not right about his accent. "Where is your family from, again, Buck?" I ask, melting into Tony's side. We are so close that it is as though we could be one body.
"We're from raht `round her, Ana! Been her fer `bout two hundo' years, ya'all." The accent is completely off, then.
But I simply say, "Oh." If he played any role in the abduction of the three seamen, there would be time for breaking his accent later. If not, he is just odd.
Tony and I want to be alone. It is obvious. We are putting the fronts across our eyes, the lusty 'We have a house, I love you, let's make love' fronts, and there is no mistaking the fact that Buck is oblivious to all of it.
"So, Buck, where do you live?" Tony bites out, and I can tell he wants nothing more than to retreat inside, away from the wheat pollen and cows, and forget about the farm entirely.
"Aw, wayell, down th'road a-ways. F'yer gonna be runnin' th'John Deere, ya'll might wanna gimme a call and ah'll come own down `n help ya out."
Tony's jaw tenses. "What makes you think I can't run a tractor, Buck?" He grins, but it does not reach his eyes.
"Ya'll seem a bit … green. Not meanin' t'offend, sir, but yer jus' not a farm boy."
"I think we'll be fine." Tony looks down at me, smiling warmly, but his eyes are clearly screaming, He has overstayed his welcome. "My dad and his girlfriend are coming out soon to help us move in the rest of our stuff."
"Oh yeah? That's realllllllll nahce o'them." He is plainly dense. "Mah dad `n grandpappy'll wanna meet them."
I jump in before Tony bites his head off, "Yes, Leroy and Babby would love to meet you, too. They are looking forward to meeting our neighbours." Tony chokes on what must be his own saliva. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" I lay a hard rap between his shoulder blades and he quickly stops.
"Yep," Tony says, his voice raspy. "Yeah, I'm fine. Smooth." He grins at Buck, and I can only assume it is another movie reference. After regaining his composure, he draws me in front of him, flat to his body, and stares at Buck over my shoulder. "If you don't mind, Buck, we were thinking of going inside and getting ourselves a bit more settled." I flush, but smile, so that Buck knows I am not embarrassed. Even though I am dying inside.
"We have to set up the nursery!" I quickly explain, beaming.
"Aw, yer gonna have a l'il young'n? How nahce fer ya'll." Buck glances at my abdomen before dropping his voice to ask, "How far along r'ya?"
"About two months." If he had any brains, he would know that I was lying, and that there were no way I would still be so trim if I were two months pregnant, especially since I am so slim. But, he does not catch my fib, and I can easily add, "We were told to expect the baby next May." I decide to be as realistic as possible, and gaze up at Tony, simply beaming. He returns my gaze, although a strip of panic floats in his blue eyes. His breathing has grown slightly shallow.
I do not call him on it, because many fathers are this way when their wives are expecting. "David?" I murmur.
"I was just thinking about how lucky we are, Ana. We've got our own little present. Like a housewarming gift." He places a gentle kiss on my temple and looks at Buck. "I mean, look at me. A beautiful house, a beautiful wife, and I get a beautiful baby next Spring. My life is really looking up." After a beat, he quickly adds, "I'm going to have a great night."
I am beginning to think that Tony is looking out for me, trying to get Buck to leave so that I can feel comfortable again. But his efforts go unseen by the farmer, and Tony finally has to blurt,
"Dude. My wife and I want to be alone." I like the way he says 'my wife and I'. "Alone-alone. To celebrate our new family and new home. Alone. Just her and I." Still, Tony is just grinned at. He laughs a bit, and I look up to see that he is completely shocked that his words can be misunderstood. "Buck … Our celebration may get a bit graphic. Explicit. And we want to be alone. We don't want to be rude, because you've been so much help—really! You have been!—but Ana and I really need to ask you to … like … leave."
"Oh! Thayet kinda 'alone.' Ah'm sorreh!" Buck apologises, realization washing over his face. "Wayell, since y'got all'r'yer clothes `n stuhf," Buck cheerfully bubbles, "ah guess ah should letch'ya'll go. Y'said yer ladeh is comin' out here later?" Tony and I nod. "Jus' gimme a holler when she gets hur, then. Thanks, ya'll!"
As he makes his way down the drive to his car, Tony and I exchange glances. There is not a doubt in my mind that the Senior Field Agent now sees why I have a problem with Buck.
Our afternoon has been uneventful thus far. Gibbs and Abby pulled into our driveway at around noon. It is one now, and although they brought a delicious lunch and a trunk-full of food, I know that it will only become more monotonous with time. And we have four months of it.
Gibbs' pointed question breaks me out of my stupor. "So, what made you dislike the guy, Ana?"
Shaking my head, I can only reply, "I don't know." After a few moments of silence, during which I ponder all of the points of Buck that grated on my nerves, I supply him with, "His accent is completely wrong, and he watches us like a pigeon."
Tony nudges my side and smirks, "Pigeons are scary and all, Ana, but I think you meant, 'hawk.'" I glower at him, the threat of my punching him heavy in my eyes, but he makes an attempt at erasing his words by pressing his lips into the crown of my head and murmuring, "But it's so cute when you get those idioms wrong, m'dear."
"Thank you, David," I mutter before continuing, "I have a feeling that we will be forced to put on a show of sorts for him. We were nearly forced to make love in front of the man." Before a reaction can be made, I blurt, "And he looked like he wanted it. He just did not understand us when we asked him to go away!"
"Well," Abby chirps, "You both are pretty hot, so I can see why he'd want to watch." Her eyes go wide. "Not that I want to watch or anything; I just meant that it makes sense. Because it does, in a really sick way. Obviously only a really sick person would ever want to—" Gibbs holds up a hand.
"Babs, we get it." Taking a sip of bourbon from his tumbler. His gruff exterior had melted almost immediately as he had stepped out of Abby's car. Now, the normally strict man was replaced with a loving, jovial Gibbs that Tony said he had not seen since Kate had joined the team.
Gibbs turns his attention to me and murmurs, "Ana."
"Yes, Leroy?" I take a sip of my wine. Abby had brought the entire cupboard from our office, the stash from the Christmas Parties that she had kept in her lab. I feel Tony's arm grow heavier on my shoulders and settle into the back of the chair.
"Do you like the house?" I know this is code for, What've you found, Davíd?
"Oh, it is exquisite." Absolutely nothing.
"I agree. Anything you have to fix?" He sips at his wine again. Any evidence at all?
"Just the window in the front room, and then some burned carpet upstairs in storage. David and I think we will call to replace the window tomorrow, and, since the storage room is such a pretty yellow, we will use it for the nursery."
There is nothing that is supposed to mean, other than what my words are.
Abby bounces in her seat. "Tommy's coming tomorrow to help you move in! So guess what!" Tony and I glance at each other over my shoulder, and gesture for her to tell us. "Leroy and I are going down to the antique store in Cheshire!"
Oh no, I groan inwardly. On the outside, however, I smile. "That sounds like fun!"
"I love antiquing. It's so much fun! So I'm dragging Leroy with me." She takes a swig of beer. "And, Tony's Uncle Roy and his son, Adam, are coming to visit as well!" Gibbs makes a grunt of distaste and Abby apologises immediately. "Sorry, Leroy, I know it was supposed to be a surprise. But I just couldn't help it! You should know better than to trust me with this stuff. Although, there was that one time … with the thing … and my hands … and the stuff. And the girl, and the keys, and all of that in my room. But you know how difficult it was for me to keep that a secret! And when … when my ex was like," she drops her voice dramatically, "'No, you can't tell Leroy that you've been seeing me.' I told you in sign language! Yeah, that's right, sign language!"
None of us respond for several beats, until Tony snorts into my collar, prefacing long peals of laughter from all of us. Little do we know that we would soon have much more to laugh about.
Tony and I are just stumbling up the stairs at eleven. Gibbs and Babby are in their room; luckily, theirs is not being watched, and they have separate beds. Knowing that there are cameras in the curtains and the dresser is bugged, we must put on a good show, now that Buck has undoubtedly reported back to his conniving family that we are going to proceed in making love tonight.
I am the first into the room, and quickly discard my sweater. "David," I purr, turning around. "David, do you know what I want?"
"I assume you, once more, don't care about what's on TV …" Tony's eyes go wide as I approach the bed, lying down. Although I am fully clothed still, I can tell he is mentally taking off each article of clothing that I am wearing. And for some reason, I am perfectly okay with that.
He stands at the foot of the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He takes far too long, I think darkly and leap up to my knees, inches from him, shove his hands away, and finish undoing the buttons for him.
Tony pulls his white undershirt over his head and tosses it on the ottoman by the bureau. He grins and places his hands on my hips, stepping closer to the bed. The smile has lit up his face for only a moment before I have closed the distance between us, my lips on his, basically devouring his face. I fight to keep my nose from crinkling as I slow my kisses, wrapping my arms around his neck, placing a hand on the back of his head, and gently pull him closer.
He climbs onto the bed and we shift backward, me landing in a pile of pillows and Tony straddling me.
Perhaps, just maybe, I can get away with…I do not have time to execute my plan; he has stolen my idea. I feel his tongue softly stroke my bottom lip, gentle and tender as his mouth delicately cups mine. I feel my back arch, involuntarily raising my hips into his. A heat deep within me burns, slightly taking my breath away. Tony moans, a growl resonating from his throat.
From that point, my actions are based on instinct, not on conscious thought. My leg wraps behind him, and we flip over so that I am lying on top of him. Smirking, I pull away, fighting off a giggle as he groans in protest. "We needed this to be realistic, right?" I whisper in Tony's ear, just loudly enough to hear it. He chuckles, his chest hitting mine.
Tony's presses his lips along my jaw, nipping below my ear, trailing to my collarbone, where he struggles with my camisole. Wordlessly, he removes the satin, letting it slither to the floor.
My hands fly to his belt, slowly lifting the leather and pulling it through the buckle, tantalizing him, making him wait. As I work the button and zipper undone, I recapture his lips with mine, letting my tongue linger on his for a second too long, before I break away once more to rid him of his jeans.
Two strong hands lift me up off of his body and place me face up on the bed beside him. Turning over, Tony briefly stops to undo my jeans and slip them down my legs and off, carelessly allowing them to fall wherever they will.
In one fluid motion, we somehow make our way beneath the covers, and all I can feel is five-hundred-thread-count sheets, soft against my skin; his hands tangled in my curls and my fingers splayed against his back. This is what we have been missing the entire time—once we admit our chemistry, everything works smoother.
Both of us are half on the brink of losing ourselves and half consciously aware that this is a mission, and a show, and fake.
And for a moment, all I am aware of is the physical, what is right there in front of me: Tony above me, nipping at my neck, gripping my back, playing with my hair, grinding against my body; Tony, so raw, so vulnerable, so incandescently passionate that I almost cannot help but provide him with what he deserves; Tony, so handsome, so determined to succeed, even if the entire event would end before he could prove himself; Tony, so…perfect.
"David," I manage to sigh, before both of us relax into each other.
It was worth it.
"You two need to figure out whether you're going to be loud, or what, because one minute we could hear you down the hall, and the next it was dead silent," Abby gripes the next morning, handing me an orange. We both woke up early to make 'our men' a hearty breakfast for moving day.
"Well, I apologise that we failed to entertain you, Babby." I chuckle as I zest the orange into the pancake batter. "Besides which, it is our house, and we just wanted to break it in a bit."
"Oh, thank heavens, you have the same ritual as I do." I stare at her in confusion. "What, you've never had 'Moving Day Sex' before?" Wide eyed, I shake my head. "Oh, Ana, you're missing out."
"What is 'Moving Day Sex'?" As I stir, I add vanilla and blueberries, gently folding them in. "And where is it done?"
Abby crosses the kitchen and stands sits on the island, her blue sweater—as uncharacteristic of Abby as it is—flaring out against the granite countertop. "I guess it can be done everywhere…but my favorite was when I moved into my new apartment, and—"
"Please tell me you're going to talk about how great the wall color was, Babs," Gibbs interrupts, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Otherwise, our private life shouldn't be publicized." He places a quick kiss on Abby's cheek and steals the newspaper from behind her. The headlines have not changed. "Our Seamen are still missing. Why'm I not surprised?" After a sip of coffee, he hums in appreciation. "Outstanding coffee, Ana."
Although it is his character to be loving and full of compliments, I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I know it is excellent coffee, because I make excellent coffee. At least someone finally can acknowledge that. I do not, however, respond to his comment, and spoon pancakes onto the hot griddle in front of me instead.
Soon, the scent of blueberry pancakes has fully permeated the house, every nook and cranny, and I can only hope that Tony has gotten out of bed. After our show last night, even I was exhausted, but I had been determined to fit in my morning run and make my new family breakfast, even if it meant getting up at four.
Anything for the ones I love…