A/N: short, but sweet.
Gibbs sat, just staring at Senior for a while.
He truly disliked the man. He was never around when Tony needed him. And this time, they only had to drag him to D.C. from Japan.
He'd tried, for Tony's sake, to convince him to take more of an interest in his son. But, not much had changed.
"I'm only doing this for Junior." He said it almost rebelliously.
"About time you did something for him," Gibbs said, trying to restrain his anger.
"Oh? And what have you done for him Special Agent Gibbs? Sounds like he barely escaped being murdered by this Latham character." Senior rolled his eyes in his head. "I told him…he never should have become a cop, and then this job…"
"Your son, is a very brave and good man, with more smarts than you'll ever have. You should be proud of who he is. He is helping to protect the country, including…" Gibbs wanted to say something pretty bad, but stopped at, "people…like you."
"And who's protecting him, Gibbs? After this is over, I'm talking some sense into him. He should be doing something else with his life…"
"He belongs with his family," Gibbs said softly now.
Senior was so angry, he looked at Gibbs with fury in his eyes, but decided to abandon the conversation before he ended up walking out.
"Let's just talk about what you need me to tell Prince Al, so I can be done with you."
"You just give him the basics on what we've told you, and have him call Director Vance. We'll handle the rest."
Tony rounded the corner on his way back to the bullpen and walked straight into Trent Kort.
Kort stepped right into his personal space.
"Heard you screamed quite a bit," he said with contained malice, "when Stratton was cutting you up like a ham."
Tony grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him back into the wall, feeling the itch to choke the life out of him.
"How long did you know I was there?" he ground out while Kort sputtered.
"Long enough...I anticipate …your mind is rather like a scrambled egg, DiNozzo." He smiled, pure evil. "I… should just tell Latham, that you're alive. He…would be doing me a favor killing you."
Tony drew his fist back, about to punch Kort in his one good eye.
Someone caught it.
"Easy, Tony," Gibbs said smoothly, pulling Tony off Kort. "Let's keep our eye," he said looking over at Kort, "on the ball."
Tony looked at Gibbs, and suddenly burst out in a fit of laughter, while Kort glared at them both…as best he could, and slunk away down the hall.
"What was that about?" Gibbs asked him.
Tony shook his head, "Nothing…he…ah may have known I was there on the ship for a while…"
Gibbs went silent, blue eyes slightly widened. Then he took a shaky breath, staring off in the direction Kort went. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.
"I should've let you punch out that eye," he said spat out bitterly. "Slimy, bastard…"
Tony saw his father angrily striding towards the elevator from the other side of the bullpen. McGee and Ziva looked at each other, perplexed as Senior uncharacteristically avoided their glances as he went past.
He knew Senior was upset. But there was little he could do about that now. Catching Latham was imperative, and if it meant less comps in Monte Carlo for his father, oh well. He was never there for Tony when he was a kid, so Tony felt his father owed him at least this.
He wondered what had transpired between Gibbs and his father. Whatever it was certainly put Senior over the edge. He hadn't seen that expression on him since the first time he told Senior he wanted to be a cop.
"I'm afraid to ask-"
"It's fine, Tony. He already made the call. Ibn Alwaan is on board. Do you wanna' go catch him before he leaves?"
Tony looked at Gibbs and sighed.
"No. I think I've had enough drama for one day."