Fic - Working guy - NCIS
Author: Ceindreadh
Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.
Genre: AU, Het
Pairing/Characters: Tony/OFC
Rating: 15’s
Summary: What might Tony be doing if he wasn’t working for NCIS
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1,600
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for Session 4: round 12 of the LFWS on Livejournal. Prompt was “Pick a team member and write about what they would be doing if they didn't work at NCIS”
------------------------
“Well hello there!”
The greeting broke through Ellen Baker’s concentration as she tried to type up a letter. Cursing inwardly, she saved the document, before plastering a fake smile on her face so she could deal with the intruder.
It was one of the downsides of her job, being the ‘first line of defense’ as her boss, Mr. Oliver called it. Not that there was a lot to defend against at Oliver’s photography studio. Oh there were kids showing up on a regular basis, thinking that being voted homecoming king or queen made them a shoo-in to be America’s next top model. Granted, Oliver was more than happy to take their money and produce a decent set of shots to get their portfolio started. But the trouble was, too many of these kids thought that he should be paying *them* and not the other way round. Worst of all was the way they’d show up without appointments, and then she was the one expected to slot them into the schedule.
Still, that *was* part of her job, thought Ellen as she looked up, hoping that maybe this guy was just looking for directions or something and would let her get quickly back to work.
Ellen’s smile turned from fake to real as she saw the man standing in front of her. This was definitely not just another fresh faced kid, straight off the bus from his hometown. Thirty something, green eyes, spiky hair, jeans that looked as if they’d been painted on. It was all Ellen could do not to offer him a free photo-shoot on the spot. Clothing optional of course. “Hello,” was all she could manage to squeak out.
“Hello,” said the man again. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Oh I’m sure I can,” said Ellen, “We at Oliver’s pride ourselves on being able to help *anyone* who walks through our door.” She almost melted at the smile she got in return. “Are you looking for a few shots for a portfolio, Mr...”
“Bricker,” said the man, “Gus Bricker. But please, call me Gus.”
------------------------------
Half an hour later, Gus Bricker had got a tour of the studio, an introduction to some of the plainer members of staff, and Ellen’s phone number.
Tony DiNozzo, Private Investigator on the other hand had managed to find out exactly what the wife of his client was doing in her spare time. As soon as he was out of sight of the studio, he ducked down a nearby alley way, and took a zigzag course back to where he’d parked his car. Not that he thought he was being followed, but after so many years in the business, it was second nature to him not to take a direct route anywhere.
Patting the hood as he walked around to the driver’s side Tony said to himself, “One day you’ll be a red Ferrari.” He slid in behind the wheel, wincing as the waistband of the jeans cut into him. “Okay, no more ‘Gus Bricker’ until I lose a few pounds,” he said out loud as he flattened down the spikes in his hair.
------------------------------
Half an hour later, Tony sauntered into his office. ‘His’ office…five years out on his own, and it still gave him a bit of a kick to see ‘DiNozzo Investigations’ etched in the glass on the door. It hadn’t been an easy journey of course. Oh he’d had plenty of experience with all his time as a cop, but it was one thing running an investigation with the whole weight and resources of a top notch police department behind you. Working as a civilian was a whole different ball of wax. He hadn’t just jumped straight in though. After parting company with Philly P.D., he’d done as so many of his fellow L.E.O.’s had done before him and taken a ‘consultants’ position with a local Detective firm. But the rules and procedures were almost as stringent in the private sector as they had been in the police department, and as soon as Tony had gained what he - and the state of Pennsylvania - deemed to be sufficient experience, he’d jumped ship and set up on his own.
Not that he was quite on his own anymore though. Tony leaned against the wall and grinned at the woman behind the desk, “So Miss Moneypenny,” he said in his best Connery impression. “What have *you* been up to all day?”
“Trying to make sense of your notes on the Brennan Case, and *don’t* call me Moneypenny,” replied Molly.
To anybody who asked Tony, Molly was the brains behind the whole operation. She was the one who answered the phones, made the appointments and did the primary interviews to see whether a case was viable or not. She was the one who reigned in Tony’s tendency to fall for a sob story or a pretty face. She was the one who made sure he did enough paying jobs to pay the rent and turn a small profit. But most of all, as far as Tony was concerned; she was the one who made it worth his while waking up every morning.
“What’s wrong with my notes?” asked Tony. “I thought they were most detailed and informative.”
“Describing the exact style of the bikini worn by the woman you were hired to follow is not the type of detail a client requires.”
“What can I say,” said Tony, shrugging, “I like to be thorough! Anyway, good news. We can tell Mr. Mackenzie that his wife is *not* sneaking off every Tuesday to have an affair.”
“And the bad news?” asked Molly.
“She’s building herself a nice little portfolio that would make the Playboy editors blush.”
“What?”
Tony nodded, “I had a very informative conversation with the receptionist at Oliver’s studio. She says they do a lot of contract work for some internet based porn mags. Missy Mackenzie is apparently one of their more regular contributors.”
“Ouch,” said Molly, “And damn as well, news like that makes me think we should have gotten more of an upfront payment. Why is it that people think it’s okay to stiff the investigator just because they don’t like what he found out.”
“Perils of the job,” said Tony, “Anyway, we got paid for the Patterson case last week, didn’t we?”
“We did, and it went on the utility bills for last month. Tony, I know you’re a terrific investigator, and I love that you’ll reduce your rates for people when they’re strapped for cash. But we’re supposed to be a business not a charity.” She held up her hand to stop Tony’s protests, “I know you’ve funneled cash into the business from your New York account when we’ve been stuck, but you can’t keep doing that indefinitely. We have to be self-financing. You need to start getting tougher with the clients…*all* of them.”
“Magnum never had to get tough with his clients,” said Tony, frowning.
“Magnum lived rent free in an island paradise; he saved on overheads by working out of the King Kamehameha Club. And maybe if he’d been a bit tougher on clients, he wouldn’t have always had Rick and T.C. hounding him to pay what he owed *them*!”
“Why did I have to hire a woman who’s watched Magnum almost as many times as I have?” asked Tony.
“Because I was head and shoulders above any other candidate?”
“Actually there weren’t any other candidates, you showed up to hire me before I got a chance to advertise and I never got around to closing your case.” Tony saw Molly’s face fall and cursed inwardly. Moving forward, he crouched down in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. “I will *never* stop looking for your father, you know that.”
“I know that,” said Molly, softly. “But I also know that it’s been over ten years since anybody in my family has heard from him, three years since you started looking for him. Maybe…maybe he just doesn’t want to be found. It’s just…”
“What is it?”
“It’s just I would have liked to find him…to let him know he’s going to be a grandfather…” Molly held her breath, waiting for Tony’s reaction.
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, then Tony’s eyes widened, “Grandfather, you mean…”
Molly nodded. “I went to the doctor while you were out; she said I’m about two months along. I would have said something before but I just wanted to make sure and...” Before she could say anything more, Tony swept her up into a hug and kissed her.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you right now?” asked Tony when their lips parted. “This is the best news I’ve had all day!”
“But I know we said we’d think about kids in a few years, when the business was on a more solid footing and we could afford a temp to cover for me.”
“Guess Junior had other ideas,” said Tony, a wide smile on his face. “Hey, if it’s a boy, will that make him Tony Junior Junior?”
“Tony, be serious!” said Molly. She tried to pull away, but Tony wouldn’t let her.
“Molly my love,” said Tony. “Tomorrow you and I will sit down and go through the books and see where we can be more efficient and cost effective and all those other words you and my accountant keep throwing at me. But this afternoon and tonight, we’re playing hooky and celebrating.”
“You’re happy about this?”
“Right now, Molly,” said Tony, as sincere as he’d ever been in his life. “Right now, I don’t think there’s any way my life could be happier”
-------------------------------
The End
Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.
Genre: AU, Het
Pairing/Characters: Tony/OFC
Rating: 15’s
Summary: What might Tony be doing if he wasn’t working for NCIS
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1,600
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Written for Session 4: round 12 of the LFWS on Livejournal. Prompt was “Pick a team member and write about what they would be doing if they didn't work at NCIS”
------------------------
“Well hello there!”
The greeting broke through Ellen Baker’s concentration as she tried to type up a letter. Cursing inwardly, she saved the document, before plastering a fake smile on her face so she could deal with the intruder.
It was one of the downsides of her job, being the ‘first line of defense’ as her boss, Mr. Oliver called it. Not that there was a lot to defend against at Oliver’s photography studio. Oh there were kids showing up on a regular basis, thinking that being voted homecoming king or queen made them a shoo-in to be America’s next top model. Granted, Oliver was more than happy to take their money and produce a decent set of shots to get their portfolio started. But the trouble was, too many of these kids thought that he should be paying *them* and not the other way round. Worst of all was the way they’d show up without appointments, and then she was the one expected to slot them into the schedule.
Still, that *was* part of her job, thought Ellen as she looked up, hoping that maybe this guy was just looking for directions or something and would let her get quickly back to work.
Ellen’s smile turned from fake to real as she saw the man standing in front of her. This was definitely not just another fresh faced kid, straight off the bus from his hometown. Thirty something, green eyes, spiky hair, jeans that looked as if they’d been painted on. It was all Ellen could do not to offer him a free photo-shoot on the spot. Clothing optional of course. “Hello,” was all she could manage to squeak out.
“Hello,” said the man again. “I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Oh I’m sure I can,” said Ellen, “We at Oliver’s pride ourselves on being able to help *anyone* who walks through our door.” She almost melted at the smile she got in return. “Are you looking for a few shots for a portfolio, Mr...”
“Bricker,” said the man, “Gus Bricker. But please, call me Gus.”
------------------------------
Half an hour later, Gus Bricker had got a tour of the studio, an introduction to some of the plainer members of staff, and Ellen’s phone number.
Tony DiNozzo, Private Investigator on the other hand had managed to find out exactly what the wife of his client was doing in her spare time. As soon as he was out of sight of the studio, he ducked down a nearby alley way, and took a zigzag course back to where he’d parked his car. Not that he thought he was being followed, but after so many years in the business, it was second nature to him not to take a direct route anywhere.
Patting the hood as he walked around to the driver’s side Tony said to himself, “One day you’ll be a red Ferrari.” He slid in behind the wheel, wincing as the waistband of the jeans cut into him. “Okay, no more ‘Gus Bricker’ until I lose a few pounds,” he said out loud as he flattened down the spikes in his hair.
------------------------------
Half an hour later, Tony sauntered into his office. ‘His’ office…five years out on his own, and it still gave him a bit of a kick to see ‘DiNozzo Investigations’ etched in the glass on the door. It hadn’t been an easy journey of course. Oh he’d had plenty of experience with all his time as a cop, but it was one thing running an investigation with the whole weight and resources of a top notch police department behind you. Working as a civilian was a whole different ball of wax. He hadn’t just jumped straight in though. After parting company with Philly P.D., he’d done as so many of his fellow L.E.O.’s had done before him and taken a ‘consultants’ position with a local Detective firm. But the rules and procedures were almost as stringent in the private sector as they had been in the police department, and as soon as Tony had gained what he - and the state of Pennsylvania - deemed to be sufficient experience, he’d jumped ship and set up on his own.
Not that he was quite on his own anymore though. Tony leaned against the wall and grinned at the woman behind the desk, “So Miss Moneypenny,” he said in his best Connery impression. “What have *you* been up to all day?”
“Trying to make sense of your notes on the Brennan Case, and *don’t* call me Moneypenny,” replied Molly.
To anybody who asked Tony, Molly was the brains behind the whole operation. She was the one who answered the phones, made the appointments and did the primary interviews to see whether a case was viable or not. She was the one who reigned in Tony’s tendency to fall for a sob story or a pretty face. She was the one who made sure he did enough paying jobs to pay the rent and turn a small profit. But most of all, as far as Tony was concerned; she was the one who made it worth his while waking up every morning.
“What’s wrong with my notes?” asked Tony. “I thought they were most detailed and informative.”
“Describing the exact style of the bikini worn by the woman you were hired to follow is not the type of detail a client requires.”
“What can I say,” said Tony, shrugging, “I like to be thorough! Anyway, good news. We can tell Mr. Mackenzie that his wife is *not* sneaking off every Tuesday to have an affair.”
“And the bad news?” asked Molly.
“She’s building herself a nice little portfolio that would make the Playboy editors blush.”
“What?”
Tony nodded, “I had a very informative conversation with the receptionist at Oliver’s studio. She says they do a lot of contract work for some internet based porn mags. Missy Mackenzie is apparently one of their more regular contributors.”
“Ouch,” said Molly, “And damn as well, news like that makes me think we should have gotten more of an upfront payment. Why is it that people think it’s okay to stiff the investigator just because they don’t like what he found out.”
“Perils of the job,” said Tony, “Anyway, we got paid for the Patterson case last week, didn’t we?”
“We did, and it went on the utility bills for last month. Tony, I know you’re a terrific investigator, and I love that you’ll reduce your rates for people when they’re strapped for cash. But we’re supposed to be a business not a charity.” She held up her hand to stop Tony’s protests, “I know you’ve funneled cash into the business from your New York account when we’ve been stuck, but you can’t keep doing that indefinitely. We have to be self-financing. You need to start getting tougher with the clients…*all* of them.”
“Magnum never had to get tough with his clients,” said Tony, frowning.
“Magnum lived rent free in an island paradise; he saved on overheads by working out of the King Kamehameha Club. And maybe if he’d been a bit tougher on clients, he wouldn’t have always had Rick and T.C. hounding him to pay what he owed *them*!”
“Why did I have to hire a woman who’s watched Magnum almost as many times as I have?” asked Tony.
“Because I was head and shoulders above any other candidate?”
“Actually there weren’t any other candidates, you showed up to hire me before I got a chance to advertise and I never got around to closing your case.” Tony saw Molly’s face fall and cursed inwardly. Moving forward, he crouched down in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. “I will *never* stop looking for your father, you know that.”
“I know that,” said Molly, softly. “But I also know that it’s been over ten years since anybody in my family has heard from him, three years since you started looking for him. Maybe…maybe he just doesn’t want to be found. It’s just…”
“What is it?”
“It’s just I would have liked to find him…to let him know he’s going to be a grandfather…” Molly held her breath, waiting for Tony’s reaction.
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, then Tony’s eyes widened, “Grandfather, you mean…”
Molly nodded. “I went to the doctor while you were out; she said I’m about two months along. I would have said something before but I just wanted to make sure and...” Before she could say anything more, Tony swept her up into a hug and kissed her.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you right now?” asked Tony when their lips parted. “This is the best news I’ve had all day!”
“But I know we said we’d think about kids in a few years, when the business was on a more solid footing and we could afford a temp to cover for me.”
“Guess Junior had other ideas,” said Tony, a wide smile on his face. “Hey, if it’s a boy, will that make him Tony Junior Junior?”
“Tony, be serious!” said Molly. She tried to pull away, but Tony wouldn’t let her.
“Molly my love,” said Tony. “Tomorrow you and I will sit down and go through the books and see where we can be more efficient and cost effective and all those other words you and my accountant keep throwing at me. But this afternoon and tonight, we’re playing hooky and celebrating.”
“You’re happy about this?”
“Right now, Molly,” said Tony, as sincere as he’d ever been in his life. “Right now, I don’t think there’s any way my life could be happier”
-------------------------------
The End