Not knowing what kind of cookie was DiNozzo's favorite, Abby bought one of each of the four available types. She noted Gibbs' purchases with a raised eyebrow and a grin. "That's a lot of sandwiches, Gibbs."
She got a grunt in reply.
Abby considered poking at him further, but she didn't want him to toss the food before Tony got fed. Gibbs had clearly bought enough food for all three of them, and if he was feeding DiNozzo, chances were the detective hadn't eaten in a significant period of time.
Instead, she tried a generic, "So how are things going?"
Waiting a beat until they had cleared the short line of people and resumed the relative anonymity of a public hallway, he muttered, "DiNozzo's about ready to drop. Don't have much to go on. New lead, maybe." He didn't sound enthusiastic.
But it was adorable that he'd first thought of Tony before the case.
Judging from Gibbs' rolled eyes, he had followed her thoughts by the expression on her face. Not that she cared. She had nothing to hide from Gibbs.
She linked arms with him again, pleased just to be near to him. He was so rarely in the office these days, and she worried for him in the field, running around and doing crazy things without proper backup.
Though maybe that could change. She cast a speculative look at him. Could he loosen up enough to work with someone like DiNozzo on a more permanent basis?
For that matter, could DiNozzo adapt himself enough to survive Gibbs? Maybe even do more than survive?
"It's weird," she said aloud. It might be good for Gibbs to hear this musing.
He waited patiently for her to continue, his considerable full attention focused solely on her.
It was one of her favorite states of being, so she drew it out a few more seconds with silence. Others might find his scrutiny invasive or unnerving, but she basked in it.
"Listening to the other Baltimore Homicide cops talk about Tony, it's weird. Mostly they talk about pranks, or jokes – make him sound like the office funnyman. Like someone you wouldn't take seriously on the job. But then someone mentioned they wished DiNozzo wasn't working with you, because they needed a hand on a case." It had been a short comment, but significant in the amount of silent agreement it garnered. He was young to have that kind of respect in a place like this.
"Your opinion of him changed kinda fast, Abs."
"Gibbs, he damaged your face! I could hardly like him right away. And plus, it's not like the agents they put on your team last long, you know? Other than Burley, they're all gone within a few months, if not weeks. There's no point learning to like anybody new you bring down to the lab when I know they're going to leave so soon."
"Not like DiNozzo even works for us, Abby. No reason to think he'll stick around. So what changed?"
Her eyes narrowed as she considered taking Gibbs's statements as a challenge. "That video changed a lot," she said quietly. It definitely gave her new nightmare fodder for the next twenty billion years or so. But at least the nightmares might have happy resolutions if these two could manage to stick together. "Doing that background check helped, too. No one paints quite the same picture of the guy, but most of those cops made him sound really impressive, Gibbs. Like someone you could really count on. And having you ask me to replace his phone. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't already respect him yourself."
Gibbs just watched her, waiting for more.
How did he always know there was more?
"Those are the main factors, Gibbs. Seriously."
"And there was no single turning point, Abby? Seriously?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "He came looking for you in my lab. I already had most of my research on him done, so I decided to give him a second chance."
"And he managed to charm you?"
"No. I tried to hug him. And I had to teach him how to hug me back. It was really sad, Gibbs."
"So you think we should add him to the team because he's sad?"
Frowning, she let go of his arm to jab him in the shoulder with her finger. "No! And you know it. He's got more experience than anyone they've added to your team. And he has to be good, or you'd have gotten rid of him by now."
Gibbs kept walking, trying to ignore her.
She stopped in the middle of the hall, unwilling to be ignored.
"He saved you, Gibbs. He works beside you. He found that not missing kid. He's still on his feet, even after all that's happened. You've known him for less than a week, and you let him run an interrogation. He let your grumpy butt stay at his place. You let him stay at your place."
Her voice rose, a plaintive but demanding note entering her tone as he continued to walk away. "You really don't think this one is any different from the rest?"
He stopped his forward motion, but did not turn around.
She took that as agreement.
This one certainly was different from the rest.
She refused to budge, cookie-holding hands on hips.
Finally, Gibbs turned around and walked back with an expression near to anger on his face. "What do you want me to do, Abby?"
She took the question seriously. He might actually listen to her.
A thousand thoughts flitted through her head, but she settled on one.
"I want you to woo him."
Gibbs opened his mouth and nothing came out. It was the first time she had ever seen that happen. Too bad he hadn't just taken a sip of his coffee; this might have been her one and only chance for a Gibbs spit-take.
He pushed her over to the side of the hall, away from the curious glances they were drawing.
She helped by elaborating without being asked. "I think you're going to have to win him over. He's not going to beg to be on your team, Gibbs. I doubt he's even considered the possibility. He might not want to make that move. You're not the friendliest bear in the woods, you know?"
Indignant, Gibbs replied, "Shouldn't he have to impress me?"
"Yes. But he already has, without trying." She shook her head. "You need him, Gibbs. We need him. You've never taken to a cop or agent so fast. And you can't work by yourself forever. You need to make him understand that he'd be better off with us."
"Why the hell do I have to do that?"
"Gibbs! I'm hardly going to repeat myself. Now you're just being difficult." She pushed away and continued back to Tony, secure in the knowledge that Gibbs wasn't truly angry with her, just annoyed that she was pointing out facts he'd rather not acknowledge.
He needed the tough love right now. If he didn't hop on the poach-DiNozzo train soon, they might lose him.
Both of them, she worried.
She might lose both of them.
The door burst open and Abby came running in as though she hadn't seen him for months.
"Tony! I got you cookies. Chocolate chip, sugar, oatmeal raisin and chocolate chocolate chunk." She swung them in their little individual baggies in front of him. "Which three do you want? Because I get the fourth one."
He took a split second to recoup. He hadn't really expected them to bring a cookie back, much less four. "I want whatever three are your second through fourth choices."
"Excellent answer!" she beamed, passing him all but the chocolate chocolate chunk.
He noted the likely chocolate addiction and filed it away for future use.
Gibbs banged through the door, stomped over, and pelted Tony in the chest with a wrapped sandwich. "Woo?" he said in an odd half-questioning, half-bitchy tone.
What the hell? Was it time to cheer in angry voices now?
DiNozzo was exhausted, which helped his crazy mind decide to put the sandwich on his desk and raised his arms in a little dance. "Wooooo!"
It was probably mean to taunt the man who just hurled food at you, but it was just so tempting, even though he had no idea what was going on. Maybe especially because he had no idea what was going on.
If he couldn't beat the crazy fed, maybe he could at least irk him while entertaining himself.
Abby apparently did know whatever the hell was going on, as her eyes lit up and she danced around DiNozzo with a sly, knowing glance at Gibbs. "Woooooooo!"
If this was fed-speak, it was even more unintelligible than expected. But amusing. He shared a grin with Abby.
Quicker than the Flash, Gibbs had Tony pinned, hands clamping down on the desk on either side of the detective's chair. "Something funny?" he murmured scarily right in DiNozzo's face.
Tony thought he had a decent chance of backing Gibbs down if he tried to. But there was a glimmer of doubt he didn't care for, and on top of that, he preferred to save his serious side – and his scarier side – for rare moments. Overuse left them less effective.
At least for him. Gibbs probably didn't have that problem.
He could cave. It might be the most expedient thing to do.
But it didn't feel like the right thing to do.
Slowly, careful to keep eye contact with the grumpy fed, he raised his arms outside of Gibbs' own outstretched arms, and jiggled them a bit in the air. "Woo Woo?" He brought out the full DiNozzo grin – not the smile meant to charm, but the mischievous, cheeky incarnation that often proved infectious.
Gibbs slapped him on the back of the head.
Hard. Really, really hard.
But damned if Tony didn't see the corners of the guy's eyes crinkle in reluctant amusement as he moved away to take a seat in a nearby wayward chair.
Abby sat on the desk again, and Gibbs tossed her a sandwich. Opening his own, the man crammed a good third into his mouth at once, then grossly commanded, "Report" with his mouth full.
Apparently table etiquette was not high on the list of Gibbs' rules.
Opening his own food to investigate its contents, Tony gave his update. "Crazy guy in holding is Wallace Tessler. He ordered a pizza, which showed up later than promised, and when the delivery kid asked where the tip was, Tessler gave him his gratuity in the form of a pipe to the face."
He took a bite. Turkey. Not so bad.
"Kid was knocked out after the first swing, but Tessler realized he'd bashed in his left cheekbone. So he did what any man would do, and took a swing at the right one to try to even them out. Spent the next few minutes trying to make them match so it would be less noticeable."
He'd rather have the cookies. He eyed them, lying seductively on his desk next to Abby's feet.
"Crazy enough to be our guy, but maybe too crazy. I'm not sure how much caution he's capable of, and our guy definitely has as steak of evil pre-planning, or at least post-carefulness. Strauss and Prika don't care if we question him. We're good to go whenever you're ready."
Having finished his food in four mouthfuls, Gibbs had returned to his coffee. "Need to call in Solas."
"Why? I don't like that guy."
"Worked with a few profilers before. Sometimes it's bogus, but sometimes it's helpful. Worth a shot."
Tony crammed sandwich in his mouth and grunted. It was easier than continuing to complain, which would get him exactly nowhere with Gibbs.
"Abby, go find the lab here and get whatever evidence they have on the previous cases from our killer."
"Gibbs, they're not just going to hand over evidence without some kind of court order."
"Oh, I think it can be managed." Tony grabbed a pen and post-it and scribbled something down. "Give this to Marguerite when you get there."
She glanced down and his scrawl. "Hack the planet? Is she an Angelina Jolie or a Jonny Lee Miller fan?"
"Matthew Lillard, of all the odd things."
Abby grinned at him. "You're using the love of Cereal Killer to help us on the serial killer case?"
He shot her a look full of intense earnestness. "Would you want it any other way?"
"Nope." She cheerfully hopped off the desk and went towards the door, post-it in hand.
Gibbs was scowling.
Again.
Tony smiled at him impertinently, well aware that the fed didn't care for being left out of anything, even movie references that he most certainly would not get.
Gibbs smiled back, which was exceedingly alarming.
"You can't get up, can you?"
So he was a little stiff. It's not like he couldn't get up.
"You haven't moved from that chair since we got here." A Gibbs smirk was even worse. What was worse than alarming? Maybe freakin' scary.
"I just don't feel like it right now. What of it?"
Chuckling as though he'd won, Gibbs rose. "Gonna go call Solas. Meet you in interrogation."
He stopped at the door, smirk still in place. "You know. When you feel like it."
Unsure if Gibbs was being a bastard, or if this was his version of playful, Tony began the arduous process of climbing to his feet.
Gibbs was so not getting a cookie.
A/N - I'd love to promise to update faster, but that horrible thing called writer's block has other ideas lately. I shall try.
To those who left reviews that I have not yet responded to, my only excuse is that I suck. Please don't think I disregard them. I really do appreciate them! Knowing you're still reading is what makes me keep coming back to the story, even when my fingers and brain want to slink away.