[NCIS] Tony DiNozzo, yellow
Title: Five Levels of Good Karma
Fandom: Navy: NCIS
Characters: tiny pre-Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David, Tim McGee, Cynthia, Fornell, Gibbs
Prompt: Yellow
Word Count: 1168
Rating: G
Summary: Five people Tony makes happy.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to persikay because really, that kind of intelligence is kinda awesome and I keep spamming people. Sorry.
1.
And, okay, in hindsight it might not have been such a great idea, because she’d told him she loved him, when really, she doesn’t even know him, but she was so sad and Tony just wanted to make her smile again so he’d sent her flowers.
And apparently, yellow roses mean friendship and joy, but not love, not what Ziva really wants and even as she accepts the stupid flowers with a fake smile on her face, Tony can see right through her and she’s just one more person he’s disappointed in the last year and he already feels like crap.
Then Ziva’s smile warms, lights up her whole face, and she fingers the red tips of the petals lovingly and Tony quickly spins around and starts attacking his computer, a quick search of red-tipped yellow roses, and hey, they actually mean friendship turning into love and that’s actually a pretty accurate description of them.
Seems like he didn’t screw up this time.
2.
There’s a really high chance that Tony screwed this one up, that it was a huge mistake and McGee’s never gonna talk to him again, and it’s enough for a band of tightness to curl and push against his chest, but he’d wanted to do something for the younger man and this was all he could think of.
It’s not like it was really snooping, I mean, they were in a manila folder on McGee’s desk; all Tony had done was take out the sheets and photocopied them quickly, flirting with the secretaries as he did, and then he’d replaced the originals and hid the duplicates in his backpack, pressed against his gun on one side and his jacket on the other, already slightly crumpled.
And then, when he got home, he’d re-typed all of the poems in a carefully chosen font, throat thick from the emotion in McGee’s writing, and then he’d gone to an old friend and he’d bound them up in a pretty cover, a neat booklet, and he’d sent it to McGee, return address on the back so he wouldn’t freak and because Tony isn’t a coward and, well.
And then Tony had come into work and waited, and he’s still waiting, having arrived, oh, two hours earlier than usual, and McGee comes in and offers Tony a small smile, touched and affectionate, and offers Tony a cup of coffee, hazelnut creamer and half the jar of sugar, just like he likes it.
3.
Tony’s never been good with children, they’ve always seemed to hate him on sight, and that’s why he protested long and loud when Gibbs and Fornell roped him into helping out with Emily’s birthday party, but Fornell had called in that favor Tony owed him from when Gibbs had been away, and Gibbs had glared at Tony until he’d acquiesced.
And now he has to go, and that’s why he’s standing in a department store, in the little girl’s section, almost blinded by the pinks and the purples and oh god, the pastel colours. He looks at rows and rows and rows of dolls and bears and other toys he can’t identify and tries frantically to remember at exactly what age his younger cousins had grown out of their toys.
Then, smart man, he shrugs and calls, awkwardly struggling through a conversation with the ex-Mrs Gibbs, who also happens to be the ex-Mrs Fornell, and those two should really hate each other more- or be better friends, whatever, and he finally gets through to Emily who, thank god, remembers him and doesn’t hate him, and when he asks her what she wants and she hesitates, he lets warmth ease into his voice and she tells him, excited and cheerful as only children can be.
And then he grabs a sales clerk, flirts with her a little, and she finds the sparkly toy and she rings it up for him and when he arrives at Gibbs’ in a couple of hours (and why the hell is the party there, anyway?) Emily is going to be very happy and maybe Gibbs won’t headslap him today.
4.
It takes Tony a long time to decide what to get Cynthia, because really, she’s put up with a lot from them, from Gibbs, really, but he’ll never apologise, and so the duty falls on Tony. He doesn’t mind, not really, and he’s quite fond of Cynthia, and besides, she smells like citrus and summer and she’s almost as beautiful as Kate had been, so. He buys her a present.
Nothing too expensive, nothing that can’t be looked at as more than an expression of appreciation, but something big enough that she knows without a doubt that she isn’t taken for granted. He tosses up several ideas in his mind, shifting through lists of possible presents, sorting them out, finding flaws in each one, and then he hits jackpot.
He wraps it up cheerfully, whistling so loudly that Ziva shoots him an annoyed look from her desk and lobs the contents of her trash can at him, one at a time. He finishes hurriedly, the entire thing ending up a mess of sticky-tape and roughly cut paper, and he really should’ve just put the tickets in an envelope, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.
And the smile that lights up her face, god, so beautiful, after she’s struggled with the paper for about five minutes, trying not to tear the thin cardboard inside, makes Tony grin back at her.
He got her tickets to the Gizelle, he explains awkwardly, because he’d seen the look on her face when Jenny had descended down the stairs on her way out, beautiful and elegant like a fairytale princess, and he hopes that she likes the tickets because she’d look more breath-taking than even the Director managed. And then he smiles, little boy lost, and adds, Thank you.
5.
After a long day, Tony finds it difficult to let go, sometimes. Some days he goes out clubbing, dressed in tight, dark clothes, and he loses himself in the anonymity of dark clubs, in warm bodies and women he’ll never remember the names of. But on days like today, he has no energy, no will, to go out and all he wants is to curl up at home with a good movie, with good food, and with a mug of hot chocolate.
And, okay, yeah, it’s not the most adult of things, but he has his container of food from Little China, where Mr Lee calls him by his name and gives him a free egg roll, and he has the original Batman movie which doesn’t need his concentration, and he has a mug of hot chocolate that fits perfectly into the curve of his hand, warmth bleeding through comfortingly.
He’ll never admit that he keeps those little marshmallows for days like this.
He curls further into his chair, spills sweet and sour sauce onto his hand and licks it up, and smiles blissfully.
Fandom: Navy: NCIS
Characters: tiny pre-Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David, Tim McGee, Cynthia, Fornell, Gibbs
Prompt: Yellow
Word Count: 1168
Rating: G
Summary: Five people Tony makes happy.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to persikay because really, that kind of intelligence is kinda awesome and I keep spamming people. Sorry.
1.
And, okay, in hindsight it might not have been such a great idea, because she’d told him she loved him, when really, she doesn’t even know him, but she was so sad and Tony just wanted to make her smile again so he’d sent her flowers.
And apparently, yellow roses mean friendship and joy, but not love, not what Ziva really wants and even as she accepts the stupid flowers with a fake smile on her face, Tony can see right through her and she’s just one more person he’s disappointed in the last year and he already feels like crap.
Then Ziva’s smile warms, lights up her whole face, and she fingers the red tips of the petals lovingly and Tony quickly spins around and starts attacking his computer, a quick search of red-tipped yellow roses, and hey, they actually mean friendship turning into love and that’s actually a pretty accurate description of them.
Seems like he didn’t screw up this time.
2.
There’s a really high chance that Tony screwed this one up, that it was a huge mistake and McGee’s never gonna talk to him again, and it’s enough for a band of tightness to curl and push against his chest, but he’d wanted to do something for the younger man and this was all he could think of.
It’s not like it was really snooping, I mean, they were in a manila folder on McGee’s desk; all Tony had done was take out the sheets and photocopied them quickly, flirting with the secretaries as he did, and then he’d replaced the originals and hid the duplicates in his backpack, pressed against his gun on one side and his jacket on the other, already slightly crumpled.
And then, when he got home, he’d re-typed all of the poems in a carefully chosen font, throat thick from the emotion in McGee’s writing, and then he’d gone to an old friend and he’d bound them up in a pretty cover, a neat booklet, and he’d sent it to McGee, return address on the back so he wouldn’t freak and because Tony isn’t a coward and, well.
And then Tony had come into work and waited, and he’s still waiting, having arrived, oh, two hours earlier than usual, and McGee comes in and offers Tony a small smile, touched and affectionate, and offers Tony a cup of coffee, hazelnut creamer and half the jar of sugar, just like he likes it.
3.
Tony’s never been good with children, they’ve always seemed to hate him on sight, and that’s why he protested long and loud when Gibbs and Fornell roped him into helping out with Emily’s birthday party, but Fornell had called in that favor Tony owed him from when Gibbs had been away, and Gibbs had glared at Tony until he’d acquiesced.
And now he has to go, and that’s why he’s standing in a department store, in the little girl’s section, almost blinded by the pinks and the purples and oh god, the pastel colours. He looks at rows and rows and rows of dolls and bears and other toys he can’t identify and tries frantically to remember at exactly what age his younger cousins had grown out of their toys.
Then, smart man, he shrugs and calls, awkwardly struggling through a conversation with the ex-Mrs Gibbs, who also happens to be the ex-Mrs Fornell, and those two should really hate each other more- or be better friends, whatever, and he finally gets through to Emily who, thank god, remembers him and doesn’t hate him, and when he asks her what she wants and she hesitates, he lets warmth ease into his voice and she tells him, excited and cheerful as only children can be.
And then he grabs a sales clerk, flirts with her a little, and she finds the sparkly toy and she rings it up for him and when he arrives at Gibbs’ in a couple of hours (and why the hell is the party there, anyway?) Emily is going to be very happy and maybe Gibbs won’t headslap him today.
4.
It takes Tony a long time to decide what to get Cynthia, because really, she’s put up with a lot from them, from Gibbs, really, but he’ll never apologise, and so the duty falls on Tony. He doesn’t mind, not really, and he’s quite fond of Cynthia, and besides, she smells like citrus and summer and she’s almost as beautiful as Kate had been, so. He buys her a present.
Nothing too expensive, nothing that can’t be looked at as more than an expression of appreciation, but something big enough that she knows without a doubt that she isn’t taken for granted. He tosses up several ideas in his mind, shifting through lists of possible presents, sorting them out, finding flaws in each one, and then he hits jackpot.
He wraps it up cheerfully, whistling so loudly that Ziva shoots him an annoyed look from her desk and lobs the contents of her trash can at him, one at a time. He finishes hurriedly, the entire thing ending up a mess of sticky-tape and roughly cut paper, and he really should’ve just put the tickets in an envelope, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.
And the smile that lights up her face, god, so beautiful, after she’s struggled with the paper for about five minutes, trying not to tear the thin cardboard inside, makes Tony grin back at her.
He got her tickets to the Gizelle, he explains awkwardly, because he’d seen the look on her face when Jenny had descended down the stairs on her way out, beautiful and elegant like a fairytale princess, and he hopes that she likes the tickets because she’d look more breath-taking than even the Director managed. And then he smiles, little boy lost, and adds, Thank you.
5.
After a long day, Tony finds it difficult to let go, sometimes. Some days he goes out clubbing, dressed in tight, dark clothes, and he loses himself in the anonymity of dark clubs, in warm bodies and women he’ll never remember the names of. But on days like today, he has no energy, no will, to go out and all he wants is to curl up at home with a good movie, with good food, and with a mug of hot chocolate.
And, okay, yeah, it’s not the most adult of things, but he has his container of food from Little China, where Mr Lee calls him by his name and gives him a free egg roll, and he has the original Batman movie which doesn’t need his concentration, and he has a mug of hot chocolate that fits perfectly into the curve of his hand, warmth bleeding through comfortingly.
He’ll never admit that he keeps those little marshmallows for days like this.
He curls further into his chair, spills sweet and sour sauce onto his hand and licks it up, and smiles blissfully.