NCIS: Operation Brownie, Gibbs/girl!Tony, PG-13
Title: Operation Brownie
Series: Antoinette
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3000
Category: Romance, Humor
Genre: Slash, Genderbend
Pairing: Gibbs/girl!Tony
Summary: There's something definitely hinky about the new Assistant Director of NCIS.
Spoilers: General S6.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Genderbending, Death... but not really :/
*
McGregor ignored the wailing sirens and focused on keeping his eye on Tommy’s back as they shoved their way past evacuating seamen down the belly of the ship. Even though they had successfully smuggled all nuclear warheads off of the Lincoln without Cuevas knowing, the son of a bitch was apparently going for the suicide bomber route.
They reached the engine room.
“Get down!” yelled Tommy. McGregor dove immediately, the bullet sparking on the metal above his head. “You’ve lost, Cuevas! No nukes, and we got this ship locked down. Why don’t you just come with us, huh? We’ll cut you a deal.”
In response, Cuevas shot at them again. They saw the small belt of explosives strapped around his torso. McGregor exchanged a look with Tommy and started to move silently along the wall towards the terrorist.
“Now, come on, Cuevas? You know you don’t want to shoot us.”
A bullet flew past McGregor’s nose. Shit. “You stay there! Both of you!” Cuevas yelled. He sounded-
“Nervous, Cuevas?” Tommy yelled back. Then, to a softer voice at McGregor: “Now why is he nervous?”
McGregor’s mind raced. “He shouldn’t-he’s a suicide bomber. Unless he-“
“Doesn’t have the detonator,” Tommy finished. They had all assumed that Cuevas carried the detonator on him, or would be set to go off when his pulse stopped. But if that’s not the case, then that means-
“His mother,” Tommy hissed. “His mother has the detonator. That’s the reason for the runaround, the false leads-they’re not Abu Sayyaf.”
“The money,” McGregor said, realization dawning. “They wanted the money.”
Tommy looked at him, and it was the most serious face McGregor had ever seen on the usually happy-go-lucky agent. “You need to get to Tibbs.”
-Thom E. Gemcity, “Lincoln’s Fire, A Deep Six Novel”
*
Antoinette Keane examined the line of his-her skirt in the full-length mirror that ran along one wall of her brand new penthouse suite. Very nice, if she did say so herself. Nanette Lepore suited her. Professional yet feminine with a light flirty touch.
Toni wiggled her ass, considering. Yep, good choice on the lace cheeky panty instead of the thong. She doesn’t know how other women do it; it only took three hours of constantly stopping herself from digging her underwear out of her ass crack to decide thongs were definitely not for her. Pity, too. Thongs were hot.
She bent forward, giving her cleavage a critical eye. Oh yeah, awesome. Toni had to resist popping another button on her top. It would push her look just slightly over to the other side of slutty, and she didn’t want that.
Toni needed them to respect her.
She straightened and picked up her Burberry jacket, the colorful print making her smile. It was so nice that girls could wear more colors than guys.
She grabbed the Tupperware full of brownies on her way out.
*
“What’s this?” McGee asked, putting down his backpack.
“I believe it is called a ‘brownie,’” Ziva said.
McGee gave her a flat look. “I knew that. I meant, what is it doing here?” He noticed that while Ziva didn’t have one, there was one on Gibbs’ desk: a brownie with pink and green sprinkles arranged on a yellow napkin. One of those fancy lacey ones. “Did you bake this, Ziva? I didn’t think you were the baking type.”
Ziva leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes blinking in that way she did when she was trying to be cute and scary. It was actually a lot more scary than cute. “Do I look like I bake, McGee?”
“Um, actually-“
“No, I do not bake,” she said, enunciating the word like a normal person would ‘torture.’ “But it appears the Director does.”
Now McGee was confused. “Director Vance bakes?”
“Sorry, the Assistant Director.”
“This is AD Keane’s brownie?” McGee grinned down at his brownie. It looked like today was going to be one of the better ones, and not just because of the unexpected surprise pastry. Ziva hadn’t teased him like this outside Tony nights for months. “That was sweet of her.” He got a thought. “Hey, did you get one?”
“Everyone got one, McGee,” she replied. McGee stood and looked around: brownies or brownie crumbs on every desk-oh, and there was Wayne swiping Harrison’s.
“Did you eat yours?”
“No,” Ziva said, pulling out a brownie from her drawer. “I am saving mine for lunch.”
“Good idea.” He peered at the dark chocolate square she was holding. “Hey! Yours is bigger than mine,” he pointed out, coming over with his own brownie. They held the two brownies up together. “And it has more sprinkles.”
Ziva smirked. “I guess the Assistant Director likes me more than you, McGee.”
“No way, she’s only been here for a week,” McGee reminded her. “She barely knows us.”
“So?” Ziva asked, raising a smug eyebrow. “It doesn’t take long for a person to decide who they like… and who they do not like.”
McGee rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it was just random.” Then their eyes slowly and inevitably slid over to Gibbs’ desk. A second later and they were huddled over Gibbs’ brownie. “I don’t believe it.”
“It does appear to be quite a big piece.”
“His is twice the size of mine!”
Ziva gave his pants a quick, arch glance. “If you say so, McGee.”
“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” McGee fought down a blush and peered at Gibbs’ brownie some more. “She even gave him a corner cut!”
“A what cut?”
“A corner cut,” McGee said, using his hands to outline a square. “You know how the baking pan has four corners right?” He ignored Ziva’s sarcastic look. “Well, everyone knows that the brownies cut from those corners are the best. Because the baking pan’s sides make the corresponding sides of the brownie chewier than the rest.”
“Ah,” Ziva said, “so you are saying this brownie, Gibbs’ brownie, is better than ours?”
McGee smiled, reminiscing. “I always made my mom give me the corner brownies.”
Ziva hummed contemplatively. “So this means that she must really like Gibbs.”
“Who must really like me, Ziva?”
*
“Operation Brownie is a success,” Toni quietly snickered to herself as she watched her two former teammates stammer out excuses as they scuttled to their desks. She’d always known this hallway had the best view for spying-she figured that’s why all the previous directors liked to hang out here a lot. On the other hand, she didn’t need to be a trained agent to realize how bad the situation was in NCIS. Not that her people-her people-weren’t still the best at what they did. The Major Case Response Team under Gibbs still had a 100% solve rate.
But the atmosphere when she returned was thick enough to cut with a plastic spoon.
She couldn’t recon as much as she wanted the past few days-damn bureaucrats needed meetings for their damn meetings-but she did notice that there was a distinct lack of teasing and joking in the squad room. Everyone from the Senior Field Agents to the interns were walking on eggshells, like the place was about to blow at any minute.
And Gibbs… well, Gibbs was the powder keg ready to go kaboom.
When she walked in that room last week Gibbs looked like a man just a step away from the edge, like he was just waiting for someone to give him an excuse to go on some kind of rampage. Granted he looked hot like that, kind of like Brad Pitt in the Fight Club, but then again Gibbs always looked hot. However, she couldn’t possibly let this dour, dark and dreary atmosphere continue in NCIS-why, they might as well have been working in the CIA.
She watched as Gibbs predictably took no notice of his brownie and went to answer his phone. Ah, a new case.
“Grab your gear, we got ourselves four dead marines,” he called out, and Toni liked to think that he sounded a little more like his old self, just because he’d caught out his team gossiping over his brownie. Like old times.
She smiled at Gibbs’ retreating back. “Still got your six, boss,” she murmured.
And damn if he didn’t look back and straight at her just then. Toni hid her grin and raised her hand to wiggle manicured fingers at him: toodles.
He turned around and strode straight to the elevator, face impassive. He wasn’t quite sold on Assistant Director Antoinette Keane, of course. But she’d spent almost ten years learning the ways of this particular man, and she wasn’t going to lose the fight.
Damn, she really did miss this place.
“Assistant Director?” her new assistant Erin asked from behind her. “It’s time for your meeting.”
Toni turned on her heel and smiled sunnily at the younger woman. Showtime. “Be right there Erin, thanks for reminding me.”
*
“Hey Abbs, get anything off the clown suits yet?” McGee asked as soon as he walked in the lab, “Gibbs is breathing down my neck.”
“And mine,” Ziva reminded him.
“Well I was able to lift off a partial print off one of the noses that didn’t belong to our dead marines,” Abby said from her perch in front of the computer, waving at the bright red oversized balls on the lab table. “But I won’t have the results for at least another hour or so.” She looked at them worriedly. She’d been doing more of that lately and McGee didn’t like it. It seemed so… hinky. “Why the rush? Is Gibbs on the warpath again? Or should I say ‘as usual?’”
McGee and Ziva exchanged a look. “Actually,” McGee said, “he’s been acting more like his old self today.”
Abby got up, wide eyed. “Wait. Like, ‘old’ like three months ago ‘old’ when he punched Fornell in the face or ‘old’ like-“
“Like last August ‘old,’” Ziva finished, taking the hug Abby gave her without complaint.
“That’s awesome news!” Abby exclaimed, pulling back. “But but… why the sudden change? Better coffee today?”
“I don’t think so,” McGee said. “We think it’s because of the brownies.”
“Brownies?” Abby asked, “you mean AD Antoinette’s brownies?”
“’AD Antoinette?’”
Abby blinked. “What? It is such a pretty name.” She shook herself. “But you’re distracting me. Why do you think it’s because of the brownies?”
“We’ll tell you,” Ziva said, “after you match these names with your partial.” She handed Abby the list.
Abby narrowed her eyes but a second later her fingers were flying over her keyboard. “I can listen while I work, you know,” she said pointedly.
McGee shared a smile with Ziva. It sure felt good to be able to do that again during work. “Ziva has this theory that the Assistant Director’s brownies are indicative of how much she liked the recipient. I think it’s completely random.”
Abby paused in her typing and turned to Ziva. “McGee got a little one, didn’t he.”
Ziva shrugged. “Two, maybe three inches.” She gave McGee a smug look. “Mine was at least three and a quarter. Lots of sprinkles.”
“Three and a half.” Abby smirked at both of them before continuing to type. “And I got a side cut. So what did Gibbs get?”
“Four inches,” Ziva said. Abby pressed one last key before swiveling her chair around to face them, eyes wide. “And it was a corner brownie.”
“Wow, I don’t know anyone who got a corner brownie,” Abby said, jumping up and pacing excitedly. “Ducky and I got identical brownies. Palmer got a lopsided one. Do you know what this means?”
“Nothing,” McGee answered firmly. “It means absolutely nothing because she gave out those brownies at random!”
“How do you know, McGee?” Abby asked, getting right up to his face. “Did you ask her?”
“N-no…”
“Then you can’t assume!” Abby declared, resuming to pace. Behind her the prints continued flashing on the computer monitors, looking for a match. “Did anyone else get a corner brownie? There has to be at least three more of them. Depending on who else got the corner brownies, we can find out if she gave them out by random or not.”
“I didn’t see anyone else with a corner brownie,” Ziva said, obviously playing along. McGee glared at her. “Not even any of the other Supervisory Agents.”
Abby suddenly gripped McGee’s arms. “Oh, my God. Do you know what this means?”
“No Abby, what does it mean?”
“Gibbs!” Abby announced. “Uh, you’re looking… really good today.” Abby waffled when all Gibbs did was raise an eyebrow, but McGee could see that the curve of her smile was real. “It means, uh-“ her computer suddenly beeped and she turned to it, clearly relieved “-it means I have something for you.”
“Well, great,” Gibbs said, then handed Abby her Caf-Pow.
Abby took the oversized cup and stared hard at the older man’s face intently. “Hi, Gibbs,” she said finally, smiling softly.
McGee almost goggled when after a moment Gibbs actually smiled back, almost just like how he used to.
“Hey, Abbs,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “so whatcha got for me?”
“Well, I know who your clown fetishist is.”
*
Gibbs closed the folder he was working on and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Toni knew it was the same old pair. Stubborn bastard, he’d needed new reading glasses since last year.
“Working late tonight, Agent Gibbs?” Toni asked, walking into the meager light from his desk lamp. It was past 2100 and the place was dark and deserted.
“Apparently same as you, Assistant Director,” Gibbs replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Toni liked the way his eyes flickered over her face, her neckline, the line of her leg.
She perched on the edge of his desk, and how the man managed to look intimidating looking up at a person Toni will never know. It wasn’t her style anyway; she liked playing the airhead. It was easier to surprise people when they didn’t expect anything. “Good work today, with the clowns.”
She’d always wanted to say something like that, praise him for a job well done, make sure he knew he was appreciated, whether he wanted it or not. After all, he sure as hell didn’t need it. But it was never Tony DiNozzo’s place.
Gibbs looked at her oddly. She knew her voice was too sincere, the words just slightly too heartfelt coming from someone who’s only been his superior for a week. She was being reckless, giving away this much. But hey, clearly she was living this life on the edge. It’s not like he’d guess, anyway.
It was impossible. Unfortunately.
“Thank you.” The words were remarkably genuine. Toni had to force her lips to remain pleasantly curved; she wanted to grin like an idiot-the standard reaction to a Gibbs ‘thank you.’
She picked up the brownie she put on his desk early this morning. She figured it would be a bit hard from being out in the open air all day, but still good. She opened her mouth to take a bite when the square was suddenly plucked from her hand. Gibbs was standing in front of her wearing his jacket.
“Now that isn’t nice,” Gibbs said softly, eyes on hers. “I don’t think this brownie is for you, Assistant Director Keane.” The light was soft on his face and he had that small smirk he always got when he was flirting. Goddamn but the man looked good.
Toni widened her eyes deliberately and softened her mouth to a pout, an expression that she knew looked really sexy on her face. Two can play this game, after all. “I didn’t think you wanted it, Agent Gibbs.”
In response, Gibbs took a careful bite from the pastry, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
Hot damn but the man was good at this. Toni wanted to clap and hold up a scorecard: ten for ten.
Instead she let her smile curl a bit more. “You seem like you were in a good mood today,” she murmured, watching him chew and swallow. “Should I be baking brownies every day?”
He put the brownie down on his desk and ran his tongue along the seam of his lips. Toni never knew it was actually possible for a man to still be sexy with a pink sprinkle stuck at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, it wasn’t the brownie,” he said, and stepped closer. With her still sitting on his desk, Toni knew he must be getting a hell of a view down her blouse.
“Really.”
“I ran into a dead end on a case today.”
Well, well, well, now it seems they were finally getting somewhere.
“You don’t have any open cases, Agent Gibbs,” Toni remarked with a slight frown, playing along. “And why would a dead end on a case be a good thing?” Let’s see what you have up your sleeve, Jethro.
“Agent DiNozzo’s disappearance.”
Toni kept her eyes steady. “If I correct you and say his ‘death,’ will you punch me like you did Agent Fornell?” Cue pout.
Gibbs grinned. “Oh, you’re good,” he said with a soft laugh. “But I'm better. I’ve been working on DiNozzo’s disappearance for the last nine months with nothing but the weakest leads, but they were leads. Then this week all of it dried up,” blue eyes sharp on her, “all of it. It was as if someone flipped a switch somewhere.”
“And you think I have something to do with your… flipped switch?”
Gibbs put his mouth right by her ear. “I know so.”
Whew. Well, this was getting a bit too hot, even for her. Time to end this. Toni stood up, and was again impressed by how smoothly Gibbs stepped back and out of her personal space.
But she didn’t let him go far.
Toni slid one hand behind his head-enjoying the feel of his skin and hair-and the other to the corner of his mouth, picking up the stuck sprinkle with the pad of her forefinger. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the pink speck. Deliberately she brought her finger to her mouth and flicked her tongue out, tasting sugar.
And without a word Toni picked up her jacket and handbag and walked away, feeling Gibbs’ eyes on her back all the way down the darkened hall.
*
Series: Antoinette
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~3000
Category: Romance, Humor
Genre: Slash, Genderbend
Pairing: Gibbs/girl!Tony
Summary: There's something definitely hinky about the new Assistant Director of NCIS.
Spoilers: General S6.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Genderbending, Death... but not really :/
*
McGregor ignored the wailing sirens and focused on keeping his eye on Tommy’s back as they shoved their way past evacuating seamen down the belly of the ship. Even though they had successfully smuggled all nuclear warheads off of the Lincoln without Cuevas knowing, the son of a bitch was apparently going for the suicide bomber route.
They reached the engine room.
“Get down!” yelled Tommy. McGregor dove immediately, the bullet sparking on the metal above his head. “You’ve lost, Cuevas! No nukes, and we got this ship locked down. Why don’t you just come with us, huh? We’ll cut you a deal.”
In response, Cuevas shot at them again. They saw the small belt of explosives strapped around his torso. McGregor exchanged a look with Tommy and started to move silently along the wall towards the terrorist.
“Now, come on, Cuevas? You know you don’t want to shoot us.”
A bullet flew past McGregor’s nose. Shit. “You stay there! Both of you!” Cuevas yelled. He sounded-
“Nervous, Cuevas?” Tommy yelled back. Then, to a softer voice at McGregor: “Now why is he nervous?”
McGregor’s mind raced. “He shouldn’t-he’s a suicide bomber. Unless he-“
“Doesn’t have the detonator,” Tommy finished. They had all assumed that Cuevas carried the detonator on him, or would be set to go off when his pulse stopped. But if that’s not the case, then that means-
“His mother,” Tommy hissed. “His mother has the detonator. That’s the reason for the runaround, the false leads-they’re not Abu Sayyaf.”
“The money,” McGregor said, realization dawning. “They wanted the money.”
Tommy looked at him, and it was the most serious face McGregor had ever seen on the usually happy-go-lucky agent. “You need to get to Tibbs.”
-Thom E. Gemcity, “Lincoln’s Fire, A Deep Six Novel”
*
Antoinette Keane examined the line of his-her skirt in the full-length mirror that ran along one wall of her brand new penthouse suite. Very nice, if she did say so herself. Nanette Lepore suited her. Professional yet feminine with a light flirty touch.
Toni wiggled her ass, considering. Yep, good choice on the lace cheeky panty instead of the thong. She doesn’t know how other women do it; it only took three hours of constantly stopping herself from digging her underwear out of her ass crack to decide thongs were definitely not for her. Pity, too. Thongs were hot.
She bent forward, giving her cleavage a critical eye. Oh yeah, awesome. Toni had to resist popping another button on her top. It would push her look just slightly over to the other side of slutty, and she didn’t want that.
Toni needed them to respect her.
She straightened and picked up her Burberry jacket, the colorful print making her smile. It was so nice that girls could wear more colors than guys.
She grabbed the Tupperware full of brownies on her way out.
*
“What’s this?” McGee asked, putting down his backpack.
“I believe it is called a ‘brownie,’” Ziva said.
McGee gave her a flat look. “I knew that. I meant, what is it doing here?” He noticed that while Ziva didn’t have one, there was one on Gibbs’ desk: a brownie with pink and green sprinkles arranged on a yellow napkin. One of those fancy lacey ones. “Did you bake this, Ziva? I didn’t think you were the baking type.”
Ziva leaned forward on her elbows, her eyes blinking in that way she did when she was trying to be cute and scary. It was actually a lot more scary than cute. “Do I look like I bake, McGee?”
“Um, actually-“
“No, I do not bake,” she said, enunciating the word like a normal person would ‘torture.’ “But it appears the Director does.”
Now McGee was confused. “Director Vance bakes?”
“Sorry, the Assistant Director.”
“This is AD Keane’s brownie?” McGee grinned down at his brownie. It looked like today was going to be one of the better ones, and not just because of the unexpected surprise pastry. Ziva hadn’t teased him like this outside Tony nights for months. “That was sweet of her.” He got a thought. “Hey, did you get one?”
“Everyone got one, McGee,” she replied. McGee stood and looked around: brownies or brownie crumbs on every desk-oh, and there was Wayne swiping Harrison’s.
“Did you eat yours?”
“No,” Ziva said, pulling out a brownie from her drawer. “I am saving mine for lunch.”
“Good idea.” He peered at the dark chocolate square she was holding. “Hey! Yours is bigger than mine,” he pointed out, coming over with his own brownie. They held the two brownies up together. “And it has more sprinkles.”
Ziva smirked. “I guess the Assistant Director likes me more than you, McGee.”
“No way, she’s only been here for a week,” McGee reminded her. “She barely knows us.”
“So?” Ziva asked, raising a smug eyebrow. “It doesn’t take long for a person to decide who they like… and who they do not like.”
McGee rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it was just random.” Then their eyes slowly and inevitably slid over to Gibbs’ desk. A second later and they were huddled over Gibbs’ brownie. “I don’t believe it.”
“It does appear to be quite a big piece.”
“His is twice the size of mine!”
Ziva gave his pants a quick, arch glance. “If you say so, McGee.”
“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” McGee fought down a blush and peered at Gibbs’ brownie some more. “She even gave him a corner cut!”
“A what cut?”
“A corner cut,” McGee said, using his hands to outline a square. “You know how the baking pan has four corners right?” He ignored Ziva’s sarcastic look. “Well, everyone knows that the brownies cut from those corners are the best. Because the baking pan’s sides make the corresponding sides of the brownie chewier than the rest.”
“Ah,” Ziva said, “so you are saying this brownie, Gibbs’ brownie, is better than ours?”
McGee smiled, reminiscing. “I always made my mom give me the corner brownies.”
Ziva hummed contemplatively. “So this means that she must really like Gibbs.”
“Who must really like me, Ziva?”
*
“Operation Brownie is a success,” Toni quietly snickered to herself as she watched her two former teammates stammer out excuses as they scuttled to their desks. She’d always known this hallway had the best view for spying-she figured that’s why all the previous directors liked to hang out here a lot. On the other hand, she didn’t need to be a trained agent to realize how bad the situation was in NCIS. Not that her people-her people-weren’t still the best at what they did. The Major Case Response Team under Gibbs still had a 100% solve rate.
But the atmosphere when she returned was thick enough to cut with a plastic spoon.
She couldn’t recon as much as she wanted the past few days-damn bureaucrats needed meetings for their damn meetings-but she did notice that there was a distinct lack of teasing and joking in the squad room. Everyone from the Senior Field Agents to the interns were walking on eggshells, like the place was about to blow at any minute.
And Gibbs… well, Gibbs was the powder keg ready to go kaboom.
When she walked in that room last week Gibbs looked like a man just a step away from the edge, like he was just waiting for someone to give him an excuse to go on some kind of rampage. Granted he looked hot like that, kind of like Brad Pitt in the Fight Club, but then again Gibbs always looked hot. However, she couldn’t possibly let this dour, dark and dreary atmosphere continue in NCIS-why, they might as well have been working in the CIA.
She watched as Gibbs predictably took no notice of his brownie and went to answer his phone. Ah, a new case.
“Grab your gear, we got ourselves four dead marines,” he called out, and Toni liked to think that he sounded a little more like his old self, just because he’d caught out his team gossiping over his brownie. Like old times.
She smiled at Gibbs’ retreating back. “Still got your six, boss,” she murmured.
And damn if he didn’t look back and straight at her just then. Toni hid her grin and raised her hand to wiggle manicured fingers at him: toodles.
He turned around and strode straight to the elevator, face impassive. He wasn’t quite sold on Assistant Director Antoinette Keane, of course. But she’d spent almost ten years learning the ways of this particular man, and she wasn’t going to lose the fight.
Damn, she really did miss this place.
“Assistant Director?” her new assistant Erin asked from behind her. “It’s time for your meeting.”
Toni turned on her heel and smiled sunnily at the younger woman. Showtime. “Be right there Erin, thanks for reminding me.”
*
“Hey Abbs, get anything off the clown suits yet?” McGee asked as soon as he walked in the lab, “Gibbs is breathing down my neck.”
“And mine,” Ziva reminded him.
“Well I was able to lift off a partial print off one of the noses that didn’t belong to our dead marines,” Abby said from her perch in front of the computer, waving at the bright red oversized balls on the lab table. “But I won’t have the results for at least another hour or so.” She looked at them worriedly. She’d been doing more of that lately and McGee didn’t like it. It seemed so… hinky. “Why the rush? Is Gibbs on the warpath again? Or should I say ‘as usual?’”
McGee and Ziva exchanged a look. “Actually,” McGee said, “he’s been acting more like his old self today.”
Abby got up, wide eyed. “Wait. Like, ‘old’ like three months ago ‘old’ when he punched Fornell in the face or ‘old’ like-“
“Like last August ‘old,’” Ziva finished, taking the hug Abby gave her without complaint.
“That’s awesome news!” Abby exclaimed, pulling back. “But but… why the sudden change? Better coffee today?”
“I don’t think so,” McGee said. “We think it’s because of the brownies.”
“Brownies?” Abby asked, “you mean AD Antoinette’s brownies?”
“’AD Antoinette?’”
Abby blinked. “What? It is such a pretty name.” She shook herself. “But you’re distracting me. Why do you think it’s because of the brownies?”
“We’ll tell you,” Ziva said, “after you match these names with your partial.” She handed Abby the list.
Abby narrowed her eyes but a second later her fingers were flying over her keyboard. “I can listen while I work, you know,” she said pointedly.
McGee shared a smile with Ziva. It sure felt good to be able to do that again during work. “Ziva has this theory that the Assistant Director’s brownies are indicative of how much she liked the recipient. I think it’s completely random.”
Abby paused in her typing and turned to Ziva. “McGee got a little one, didn’t he.”
Ziva shrugged. “Two, maybe three inches.” She gave McGee a smug look. “Mine was at least three and a quarter. Lots of sprinkles.”
“Three and a half.” Abby smirked at both of them before continuing to type. “And I got a side cut. So what did Gibbs get?”
“Four inches,” Ziva said. Abby pressed one last key before swiveling her chair around to face them, eyes wide. “And it was a corner brownie.”
“Wow, I don’t know anyone who got a corner brownie,” Abby said, jumping up and pacing excitedly. “Ducky and I got identical brownies. Palmer got a lopsided one. Do you know what this means?”
“Nothing,” McGee answered firmly. “It means absolutely nothing because she gave out those brownies at random!”
“How do you know, McGee?” Abby asked, getting right up to his face. “Did you ask her?”
“N-no…”
“Then you can’t assume!” Abby declared, resuming to pace. Behind her the prints continued flashing on the computer monitors, looking for a match. “Did anyone else get a corner brownie? There has to be at least three more of them. Depending on who else got the corner brownies, we can find out if she gave them out by random or not.”
“I didn’t see anyone else with a corner brownie,” Ziva said, obviously playing along. McGee glared at her. “Not even any of the other Supervisory Agents.”
Abby suddenly gripped McGee’s arms. “Oh, my God. Do you know what this means?”
“No Abby, what does it mean?”
“Gibbs!” Abby announced. “Uh, you’re looking… really good today.” Abby waffled when all Gibbs did was raise an eyebrow, but McGee could see that the curve of her smile was real. “It means, uh-“ her computer suddenly beeped and she turned to it, clearly relieved “-it means I have something for you.”
“Well, great,” Gibbs said, then handed Abby her Caf-Pow.
Abby took the oversized cup and stared hard at the older man’s face intently. “Hi, Gibbs,” she said finally, smiling softly.
McGee almost goggled when after a moment Gibbs actually smiled back, almost just like how he used to.
“Hey, Abbs,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders, “so whatcha got for me?”
“Well, I know who your clown fetishist is.”
*
Gibbs closed the folder he was working on and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Toni knew it was the same old pair. Stubborn bastard, he’d needed new reading glasses since last year.
“Working late tonight, Agent Gibbs?” Toni asked, walking into the meager light from his desk lamp. It was past 2100 and the place was dark and deserted.
“Apparently same as you, Assistant Director,” Gibbs replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Toni liked the way his eyes flickered over her face, her neckline, the line of her leg.
She perched on the edge of his desk, and how the man managed to look intimidating looking up at a person Toni will never know. It wasn’t her style anyway; she liked playing the airhead. It was easier to surprise people when they didn’t expect anything. “Good work today, with the clowns.”
She’d always wanted to say something like that, praise him for a job well done, make sure he knew he was appreciated, whether he wanted it or not. After all, he sure as hell didn’t need it. But it was never Tony DiNozzo’s place.
Gibbs looked at her oddly. She knew her voice was too sincere, the words just slightly too heartfelt coming from someone who’s only been his superior for a week. She was being reckless, giving away this much. But hey, clearly she was living this life on the edge. It’s not like he’d guess, anyway.
It was impossible. Unfortunately.
“Thank you.” The words were remarkably genuine. Toni had to force her lips to remain pleasantly curved; she wanted to grin like an idiot-the standard reaction to a Gibbs ‘thank you.’
She picked up the brownie she put on his desk early this morning. She figured it would be a bit hard from being out in the open air all day, but still good. She opened her mouth to take a bite when the square was suddenly plucked from her hand. Gibbs was standing in front of her wearing his jacket.
“Now that isn’t nice,” Gibbs said softly, eyes on hers. “I don’t think this brownie is for you, Assistant Director Keane.” The light was soft on his face and he had that small smirk he always got when he was flirting. Goddamn but the man looked good.
Toni widened her eyes deliberately and softened her mouth to a pout, an expression that she knew looked really sexy on her face. Two can play this game, after all. “I didn’t think you wanted it, Agent Gibbs.”
In response, Gibbs took a careful bite from the pastry, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
Hot damn but the man was good at this. Toni wanted to clap and hold up a scorecard: ten for ten.
Instead she let her smile curl a bit more. “You seem like you were in a good mood today,” she murmured, watching him chew and swallow. “Should I be baking brownies every day?”
He put the brownie down on his desk and ran his tongue along the seam of his lips. Toni never knew it was actually possible for a man to still be sexy with a pink sprinkle stuck at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, it wasn’t the brownie,” he said, and stepped closer. With her still sitting on his desk, Toni knew he must be getting a hell of a view down her blouse.
“Really.”
“I ran into a dead end on a case today.”
Well, well, well, now it seems they were finally getting somewhere.
“You don’t have any open cases, Agent Gibbs,” Toni remarked with a slight frown, playing along. “And why would a dead end on a case be a good thing?” Let’s see what you have up your sleeve, Jethro.
“Agent DiNozzo’s disappearance.”
Toni kept her eyes steady. “If I correct you and say his ‘death,’ will you punch me like you did Agent Fornell?” Cue pout.
Gibbs grinned. “Oh, you’re good,” he said with a soft laugh. “But I'm better. I’ve been working on DiNozzo’s disappearance for the last nine months with nothing but the weakest leads, but they were leads. Then this week all of it dried up,” blue eyes sharp on her, “all of it. It was as if someone flipped a switch somewhere.”
“And you think I have something to do with your… flipped switch?”
Gibbs put his mouth right by her ear. “I know so.”
Whew. Well, this was getting a bit too hot, even for her. Time to end this. Toni stood up, and was again impressed by how smoothly Gibbs stepped back and out of her personal space.
But she didn’t let him go far.
Toni slid one hand behind his head-enjoying the feel of his skin and hair-and the other to the corner of his mouth, picking up the stuck sprinkle with the pad of her forefinger. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the pink speck. Deliberately she brought her finger to her mouth and flicked her tongue out, tasting sugar.
And without a word Toni picked up her jacket and handbag and walked away, feeling Gibbs’ eyes on her back all the way down the darkened hall.
*