Fic: Movie Night 1/2
Movie Night - Or How Tony DiNozzo Lost His Fear of Children
Crossover - NCIS/ Mag7 ATF~LB AU
Note: Betaed by Sue M and Nancy. For those of you unfamiliar with the Magnificent Seven fandom and its may AUs, don’t worry about it, the fic stands alone and explanations are not really needed; but if you have questions feel free to ask.
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Slowing his car, Tony peered at the mailbox at the end of the driveway. This was the third place he’d checked out.
“Finally!” he muttered to himself on reading the names, ‘Larabee, Wilmington, Tanner, Dunne’. He didn’t know who the other three were, but Larabee was the name he was looking for.
Being forced, and there was no other word for it, by the director to attend an inter-agency convention in, of all places, Denver was, in Tony’s opinion, cruel and unusual punishment. Worse still, he had to go with Gibbs, and Gibbs had been invited to stay with someone he’d once served with. It was a convention, not a conference; a get together, have fun, network, look at some new tech - yadda, yadda, yadda. 'Why wasn’t McGee going?' The only upside would have been the likelihood of some after-convention-hours action in the hotel - but no, he and Gibbs were staying in the middle of nowhere with - no doubt - some grizzled ex-marine. To top it all, they had arranged to fly out on Saturday morning, a full two days before the convention, but then Gibbs got recalled to court.
So here he was driving up the very long driveway of Mr Larabee, who apparently lived with three people called Wilmington, Tanner and Dunne.
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“Don’t worry Hank, we’re on our way,” Chris put the phone down.
Inside the ranch house, Buck stood. “What’s up?” he asked, knowing from the tone of his voice that Larabee was worried.
“Hank’s bull has managed to fall into some kind of pit.”
“Pit?”
Larabee shrugged. “From the sound of it, it may have been a root cellar or storm shelter, left behind when whatever was above it was demolished. Back in my grandparents' day, the family that owned Hank’s place had at least three different houses on the property. He needs help to get the damn thing out, before the storm hits.”
Heavy thunderstorms were predicted before dawn.
“What about the boys?” Buck asked
“Either we take them with us or let DiNozzo watch them when he gets here.”
Buck Wilmington wasn’t sure about that, they didn’t know DiNozzo. They’d never even met him.
“According to Gibbs, DiNozzo’s his best agent. Believe me, coming from the Gunny, that’s like an endorsement from God,” Chris assured.
“We’ll see.”
Just then the doorbell rang.
“No time like the present.”
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A whipcord slim, blond man close to DiNozzo's own age and height, and about as far from a grizzled old Marine as it was possible to get, opened the door.
“Agent Larabee?” Tony asked, not really believing this was his host.
“Yeah, and it’s Chris. Come on in.” Larabee held the door open for him.
“That’s Buck.” Larabee pointed to the other man in the room.
“Hi,” Buck Wilmington greeted.
DiNozzo noted that Buck was of a similar age. His hair was as dark as Larabee’s was fair, but he was a good few inches taller than both of them.
“Sorry to do this to you, but we have a situation.”
While Larabee explained the reason for their imminent departure, Wilmington disappeared. By the time he came back Tony had by some means - he wasn’t sure how - agreed to babysit their two sons.
Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled.
“I thought the storms weren’t due until around dawn?” Buck asked as he came back to pick up his ‘Drizsa-Bone’ coat from the hooks by the door after telling the boys what was happening.
“As if the weather service ever get things right,” Larabee commented as he picked up his own coat. “We have to go, have fun,” he called to Tony when they left.
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Tony stood there staring at the closed door, not quite sure what had just happened. Suddenly he got that feeling, that feeling he was being watched. Spinning around he found a small boy in pyjamas.
“Er, hello?” Tony began, looking at the boy. ‘Vin, Larabee said his name was Vin’. “Vin?”
“Hi.”
The boy was giving nothing away. He was a little on the skinny side, but then Larabee was practically two dimensional. His hair was light, but not as blond as his father. The glare was somewhat Gibbs like, which was disconcerting.
“Guess it’s just the two of us for a while, huh?”
“Three,” Vin corrected.
‘Oh crap, yeah, he said ‘boys’, well three means there’s only one more of them’.
“VIN!”
Suddenly another boy came flying into the room. He skidded to a stop when he saw Tony, but after running on the hardwood floor and with only socks on his feet, he wasn’t able to stop in time and collided with the tall agent. The boy bounced off his legs to land on his bottom on said hardwood floor. Tony looked down at him, and he looked up at Tony.
“H’lo,” the boy greeted.
Tony gave him a nervous smile. “You okay kid?” he managed to ask.
“Yeah.” The boy clambered to his feet.
Vin he could deal with, he was what? Eight maybe? This one was small, three, not more than four - his worst nightmare. He had dark hair and the biggest eyes Tony thought he’d ever seen. He was also grinning at him.
“Hi,” Tony finally managed.
“Who are you?” the small, dark one asked.
“He’s Agent DiNozzo. He’s the one babysitting us, ‘till Dad and Buck get back,” Vin supplied, still glaring at Tony.
“I’m JD,” JD announced. “Buck is my Da,” he added.
“Yeah I figured that.”
“What ya packin’ Agent Deenose?” JD asked, looking Tony up and down intently.
“What? Packing?” Tony looked over at Vin, but the older boy just kept ‘Gibbs glaring’ at him, which was getting seriously unnerving. “Um, well I’m here for about a week, so I got some clothes and …” Tony looked down at his case.
“No,” Vin interrupted, "packin’...your gun.”
“My gun!?” Tony spluttered. “What gun?”
“Mr, you’s a Fed’ral agent and that makes you a L.E.O., so you can take your gun on a plane,” JD told him, fixing him with a knowing stare. “Sooooo, what ya packin’?”
No sure how to respond, Tony just told them the truth. “Um, a Sig.”
“Which one?” Vin wanted to know.
“228.”
Both boys nodded knowingly. It really was surreal to be talking about his gun with two pyjama clad ankle biters. ‘Forget Gibbs, we should get them into interrogation, every suspect would be singing in seconds!’
“That’s a good gun,” Vin commented.
“Err yeah, so what about your father? What does he *pack*?” Tony responded, not sure where this increasingly bizarre conversation was going.
“Smith and Wesson M&P Pro. He liked his old Sig 226 - from when he was in the Navy - but he says a man has to move with the times; ‘specially in the ATF,” Vin announced matter-of-factly.
“Da’s got a Glock 20,” JD chimed in. “He likes to keep it old school.”
“Right, well, good to know.” ‘God help their fathers if Abby ever meets these two, she’ll never give them up!'
“We got a rule in this house, all guns have to be locked up.” Vin’s announcement cut into his musing.
Tony hadn’t really thought about it, but of course it made sense in a house with small children.
“I don’t have a lock for mine,” he admitted.
“Don’t worry, we got some.”
Vin then led the way to the kitchen. When they arrived, and before Tony could stop him, the older boy dragged a chair across the floor and climbed up on to it, so he could reach the cupboard over the counter.
“Are you supposed to be up there?” Tony asked.
“If they really don’t want us to touch stuff they puts it way up high or in their footlockers,” JD explained. “Da keeps his guns in his footlocker, ‘cept his Winchester 73. That’s in the long gun cab’nit.”
Vin climbed back down clutching a red cable lock.
“Dad keeps a few of these, just in case someone forgets their lock, cable locks fit everything.” He held it out.
Tony took it, complete with its key in the lock, and looked it over.
“Yous have to clear the breach and take the mag’zine out…” JD began to explain.
“Yeah, thanks kid, I know what to do.”
He reached under his jacket and pulled out his gun. As he did, both boys moved to stand a good four feet behind him.
“I’m not gonna shoot you,” Tony assured, looking over his shoulder
“We know,” Vin told him. “We have to be behind anyone who has a gun.”
“And far 'nuff back that they can’t touch us ifs they turn around,” JD finished.
“Oh, right, well okay.” He fitted the lock and then put the gun on the kitchen counter, before he turned around. “So where do we put it?”
Vin frowned then turned to JD and whispered in his ear. JD responded the same way. Finally both boys looked back at their NCIS minder.
“On the top shelf in the den,” Vin told him.
A few minutes later, and with this task accomplished, Tony turned back to his young charges.
“So just how old are you guys?” he asked.
“I’m five, Vin’s seven,” JD told him. “Did you ever get shot?”
Part Two