FIC: Sunday Dinners (NCIS, Gen, PG-13, 8/8)
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8. The coffee still tasted like mud.
Spoilers: 8X22 "Baltimore"
The coffee still tasted like mud.
Jethro took one more bite of his eggs, mopping up the yolk with the last of his toast. Chewing slowly, he looked up when he heard the bell on top of the entrance ring. He took a long draught from a chipped mug as he watched his probie enter the diner. He didn't call him over, content to observe as he had for weeks after the young agent passed FLETC training with flying colors.
Hair slicked back, grinning and winking at every waitress who paused to give him a second look, Anthony DiNozzo looked every bit as cocky as when he had sauntered into the Navy Yard three months ago. Still as cocky, Jethro amended, his eyes narrowing as he remembered the fiasco last week. While he appreciated and encouraged initiative, chasing off after a possible murderer on his own was not one of his rules. His gut was telling him though his list of twenty was about to get longer.
Jethro nodded towards the waitress-he didn't remember their names, but they remember him or at least his need for perpetual refills-and slid his cup to the side so it could be topped up.
From the way DiNozzo straightened, his hands coming out of his pockets, Jethro knew he's been sighted. DiNozzo gave the rest of the diner another glance. Jethro noted with a small smile; he could see him mentally checking off who in the diner looked like a threat. Good.
"Didn't think anyone outside the force had heard about this place. A lot of beat cops told me it’s a good place to grab a cheap lunch." DiNozzo shrugged out of his leather jacket and slid into the booth across from him. "How did you know about this place?"
Jethro lifted a shoulder. DiNozzo rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess. Your gut? You should market that. It's better than MapQuest." DiNozzo plucked out at the laminated menu tucked between the ketchup bottle and the napkin dispenser. He glanced at it, his green eyes flicking across the page with manufactured interest, then gave up the pretense. He sighed and lowered the menu.
"All right, what did I screw up?"
Jethro raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think you screwed up?"
"You've been more silent and brooding since the Abbot case. You make Charlie Chaplin look like a chatterbox." DiNozzo snapped the menu shut and set it down between them. He met Jethro's gaze squarely. "So what is it? Are we going to lose the Abbot case?"
Jethro leaned into the bench and stared at DiNozzo. "We're not going to lose the Abbot case," he said finally. "The evidence you got when you were undercover was solid."
DiNozzo beamed at the waitress who set down a glass of ice water. He took a gulp of water and ice cubes. Wet crunching garbled his words briefly as he chewed on the ice.
"So what's the problem?"
"You."
The crunching stopped. "But you just said-"
"Going after Abbot on your own was stupid, DiNozzo," Jethro growled. He shoved his plate aside to jab a finger on the table between them. "I said to wait for me."
"Abbot was getting ready to run," DiNozzo echoed what he told Gibbs before. This time though, there was no abrupt snap of his cell phone hanging up on him.
"Petty officer Abbot was three seconds from putting a bullet in your head when I finally figured out where you two were." Jethro could feel the muscle in his jaw jump. "You're damn lucky Abby's GPS is good."
"See?" DiNozzo grinned toothily at him. "No harm, no foul."
"This time." Jethro glared at him. "You don't leave your partners behind."
The smile faded. "Is that one of those Marine rules, Gibbs?" DiNozzo asked archly. "Like always have a knife?"
"This shouldn't have to be a rule," Jethro snapped. Frustration roiled in his chest. DiNozzo didn't seem as stupid back in Baltimore. Hell, he and Price…
Jethro paused. He tamped down on his irritation and narrowed his eyes. Jethro saw the shadows brewing in his eyes, the strain at the corners of his smirk. He frowned into his coffee.
"What?" DiNozzo asked warily.
"If this is going to work," Jethro said slowly, "You're going to have to trust me to watch your six."
"I do," DiNozzo insisted.
"Do you?" Leaning forward, Jethro studied DiNozzo. "It didn't look like it with Abbot. I told you to wait. You didn't. And it's not the first time. Carver? Backings?" At his probie's scowl, Jethro shook his head.
"Damn it, DiNozzo. I can't keep turning around to find out you'd have gone off on your own."
"I closed the case," DiNozzo replied, low. "I got the job done."
"Great, but the cases should be closed together," Jethro snapped. "This isn't Baltimore!"
DiNozzo froze. A red flush rose from his neck.
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"
Jethro simply stared at him.
Slumping back, DiNozzo tipped his glass back and crunched on some more ice. Loudly. After a beat, he stopped.
"Am I being fired?"
"Like I said before, I don't waste good."
"Ah yes, the rule book." Smirking faintly, DiNozzo rubbed a hand to the back of his neck. "Look, I know you're all about Semper Fi and everything hammered into you from Parris Island. I appreciate that. I just…" DiNozzo shrugged. "Maybe it's better if I just…move on."
Jethro pressed his mouth together-although whether it was for the words or the sound of the damn ice cubes DiNozzo was eating as if they were bones, he hadn’t decided.
"Peoria, Philly, Baltimore now DC. Where next? You call that moving on?" Jethro didn't know about the first two. DiNozzo never offered; Jethro never asked. He saw it in everything his probie does; DiNozzo licked his wounds from miles away.
"I was thinking of Miami," DiNozzo quipped. "Sun, surf, string bikinis…"
Jethro said nothing. He looked at DiNozzo, waiting.
The smirk flipped and the rest of DiNozzo’s body finally looked as tired as his eyes.
"What do you want, Gibbs?"
"What I want," Jethro said quietly, "is someone who'll watch my six and trust me to do the same, Tony."
Something flitted in DiNozzo's eyes at his name.
"I can do the first," DiNozzo said solemnly. He took a deep breath. "Can I get back to you on the second?"
Jethro nodded. "Fair enough."
"Might take a while." An overly bright smile flashed. "I'm a sensitive kind of guy."
Jethro didn't smile back. He gazed back, mouth unsmiling. "I can wait."
DiNozzo's smile flickered, faded but the hopeful gleam in his eyes remained. He averted his gaze and cleared his throat.
"So what's edible here?" DiNozzo said in a long suffering voice. "Anything worth me driving around forty minutes to find this place?"
"Coffee's decent," Jethro remarked as he drained his mug.
"Coming from you, that's not really a ringing endorsement." DiNozzo frowned as he flipped through the menu. He pulled a hand away and squinted at his fingers. He made a face and set down the menu.
"I'll get something from the vending machines later."
Ignoring him, Jethro pointed the menu with his empty mug. "Orange juice's like battery acid. The pancakes are good." Jethro pushed the menu closer to DiNozzo. "Get the pancakes."
DiNozzo ordered the steak and eggs.
Yeah, he'd work out just fine.
The End
Author's Note: Despite threats of harm, penfold-x whipped out her red pen and despite the hour, got this betaed, polished and done. (I now owe her a gazillion karma points though). Much love, cookies and hugs to you!
I must also tip my hat to brate7 who saw its conception and, like penfold-x, patiently (I hope), weathered all my questions, my 'tweaking' and my general fic posting panic.
I would say "Never again" but alas, you know me better.
To mella68, I am still stunned and grateful for the gorgeous cover art for the fic. It was a tough topic to find the right images for yet mella68 has composed one here with enviable ease.
A hello to wwanda whose infinite patience must be gratefully acknowledged. If you're wondering what happened to Toby, his vignette just begged to be part of a bigger fic and that, my generous dear friend, is for you.
And always, to the mods of ncis_bigbang, mucxh love and squishy hugs to you for this wonderful playground. See you next year!
Pssst: Feedback is like cookies. I like cookies. -lol-
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