FIC: Sunday Dinners (NCIS, Gen, PG-13, 7/8)

[mrwubbles]

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7. "When I said come over for dinner, it didn't put rearranging the furniture on the menu."

Not surprisingly, the door was unlocked.

Tony walked in, whistling as he set down the bags. The beer in one bag clinked together, the other bag thunked as still-thawing steaks were set down on the table.

Everything was still in the drying rack so he emptied it and left the dishes stacked on the tiny dining table. His cell beeped. He checked it, grunted, and fired back a response with a few thumb presses.

The fridge was empty of course. They were in Dayton for a good part of the week. They made it back before the rest of the country was flying out. He arranged the beer in the fridge, lined them up against the wall to make room. It was wishful thinking though, he knew, to believe there might be a need to fill the shelf later.

Another beep. Tony checked his phone again, tsked and vetoed it in one hundred characters or less. If he'd answered in all caps, it wasn't because he was yelling. Stupid shift key had locked.

Tony stood back, arms folded across his chest and surveyed the table. He shook his head and moved everything to the coffee table in the living area instead. Then he shoved the television back, hoping relocating it wouldn’t render the rabbit ears useless.

"DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing?"

Tony grinned before looking up at Gibbs filling the doorway. "Hey, Boss. Done with the boat for today?"

"When I said come over for dinner, it didn't put rearranging the furniture on the menu."

"Well, figured we need the space."

Gibbs darkened. "Space for what?"

The knock at the door made them both look up.

Tony brightened. "That would be McGee." He clapped his hands together to shake off the dust—geez, you would think ex-Marines would be tidier—and maneuvered around Gibbs to open the door just as McGee raised his fist to knock a second time.

"He never locks it," Tony reminded him.

McGee laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I forgot." McGee froze when he sighted Gibbs past Tony's shoulder.

"B-boss!"

"McGee," Gibbs acknowledged in an even voice, but still managed to squeeze "What the hell?" between the lines. Tony grimaced. He grabbed the bag from McGee's white-knuckled grip and poked his nose in. He lifted his eyes.

"Leftover sweet potato casserole." McGee kept darting his gaze towards Gibbs as he followed Tony into the living room.

"Marshmallows?" Tony asked hopefully. At McGee's eye roll, Tony checked the bag again. Score!

"After five texts reminding me, you think I'd forget?"

Tony popped a white, sugary pillow into his mouth. It melted into a gooey mess on his tongue.

"DiNozzo…"

Wow, that one had all the grumble of Marlon Brando except he wasn't giving Tony an offer he can't refuse here. It was more like the warning before the king of all headslaps.

Tony turned on his heels in a single, smooth move that would make a Marine (or an ex-Marine) proud. He held up his hands. Hopefully the universal 'I surrender' gesture translated well into Gibbs-speak.

"Now, Boss—"

Another knock at the door.

Gibbs' gaze narrowed and cast over Tony's shoulder. He said nothing though and McChicken hid in the living room with the casserole. He better not eat all the marshmallows.

"It's open!" Tony sing-songed, not turning around because wasn't there something about keeping eye contact so they don't eat/claw/shred/dismantle/headslap/possess you?

The thud of boots announced Abby before her voice bubbled over.

"Am I late?" Abby bounced in (it was the only way to describe the frenetic hop, stride, spin, skip thing she does after her morning double dose of Caf-Pow) and stopped between them. "Ooh, testosterone showdown?"

"What did you bring?" Tony demanded, eyes still front, trying to remember which National Geographic special warned him against blinking, too.

The recycled tote bag she slung over a bent elbow was shoved under his nose. Tony relaxed. Everything smelled familiar; all June Cleaver homemaker smells and nothing with seaweed, soybeans or tofu. One time, with Kate, the two went on some vegan health kick and the bullpen smelled like rotting grass for weeks.

"Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and Sister Rosita's poppers," Abby announced. "She had leftovers too. Tons! Ducky's bringing the turkey and Jimmy is bringing some of his mom's stuffing." She wrinkled her nose.

"Is it still stuffing if it's outside the turkey?"

Tony glanced over to Gibbs, whose dark and scary expression looked less scary but still dark. Deeming it safe to look away though, Tony focused on Abby. More specifically, her green and pink skull-dotted tote.

"Why don't you ask Probie in there?" Tony mumbled. He shoved an arm deep into her bag and fished out the first thing within reach. He chomped on what looked like a golden, puffy, crispy nugget the size of his thumb.

"He's setting up the DVD player. Where's Ziva—" Tony coughed, wheezed when the crunchy crust and the salty tang of cheese erupted between his teeth and scorched down his throat.

"Abby, you didn't say they were jalapeño poppers!"

Abby pounded his hunched back, which wasn't helpful, but he appreciated the sentiment. Well, he would when he stopped coughing.

"Ziva's helping Ducky because I told her potato latkes are not really traditional for Thanksgiving—oops." Abby's mouth snapped shut.

Through tearing eyes—way to go, Sister Rosita—Tony peered up. Gibbs was gone and judging the from the absence of panicked sounds in the living room, Gibbs hadn’t beat a strategic retreat to there. Tony eyed the basement door.

Damn it, he should have brought a chain and padlock. Then again, Gibbs could probably snap through it with a pinky.

"I didn't mean…" Abby murmured.

Tugging gently on a pigtail, Tony straightened. He arched his back, waited for his stomach to stop playing volcano and nudged Abby towards the living room. "Help McGee set up, will you?"

Abby was biting her lower lip as she let herself be steered towards the living room. "Tony…"

"It'll be fine, Abby."

Abby nodded absently. "Make sure he's okay with this, Tony." Her dark eyes skewered him. It was unnerving, how sure she seemed. "If he wants us to go. We'll go."

Tony shook his head. "He doesn't want us to go."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Tony grinned. "Why don't you go help McGee and give him one of those poppers while you're at it?"

"All right, but he doesn't usually like the mild ones."

Tony goggled after her. He smacked his lips together—it was like licking the pepper spray canister—before he headed for the basement door.

* * * * *

It was no surprise Gibbs was by his workbench, bent over whatever it was that would eventually become a boat. He ignored Tony standing on the third to the last step in favor of scraping away at a plank of wood with the tool in his hands. Golden curls dropped to the floor silently, pretty much matching Gibbs' mood.

"You know, Ziva thought Black Friday meant she had to dress all in black," Tony began. "It didn't make sense to her what that have to do with the pilgrims invading America, unless we were grieving with the Native Americans." Course, that was a whole other issue entirely that Tony hoped someone (other than him) would explain to her.

Another scrape left a pile of woody springs by Gibbs' boot.

"We all flew back in late last night. McGee missed family dinner but there are always enough leftovers." Tony leaned against the wall, staying on the step. He wondered what it must have felt like: to be missed, even at a table full of other people clamoring for attention.

Tony slipped his hands in his pockets.

"Palmer had his dinner yesterday but he needed to be back here because we have weekend duty so he couldn't stay."

The sandpaper came out this time. Tony noted it was the number six one as it dragged across the surface.

"And Abby…well…the nuns have their soup kitchen. It gets busy on Thursday and Friday. Doesn't leave much time to sit down."

There was a brief pause, brief before the sanding continued with renewed vigor. Tony counted it as a victory.

"Ducky's mother is in the nursing home," Tony continued in a lower voice. "Looks like Victoria will be spending Christmas there, too."

Gibbs' head raise minutely at that, enough so Tony could catch the shadows in his eyes.

The stairs creaked as Tony shifted from foot to foot.

"Look, I know Thursday is not really your thing," Tony began. He watched the paper go up and down. It was hypnotic. He shook himself out of his reverie. "Me neither. It's just a day where they show marathons and parades. It's not a big deal for you. You have your boat, I have…well…we were usually working that day."

Gibbs acknowledged that with a grunt.

Tony shrugged. At least, Gibbs didn't throw one of those boat making tools at him. Maybe he would reach instead for the power sander Tony had given him for his birthday a few years ago. He wasn't sure why he kept it around anyway.

"Every year on the day after, we do steak, beer and that was fine." Tony's shoulders rose again. "I didn't need the whole Waltons, Jimmy Stewart black-and-white shtick. I don't think I missed anything."

For some reason, Gibbs stopped entirely and was looking at him.

Not questioning his good luck, Tony dared another step down. "But hey, I figured maybe we could all do something this year since Ducky, Abby, Ziva…you know."

It was a little freaky how Gibbs was just staring at him, like he was expecting Tony to say something that would solve the case. Only there wasn't a case to be solved. Just potatoes, pie and turkey upstairs.

Tony schooled a grin at Gibbs. "Hey, just say the word or grunt and they're out of here. I brought over steaks and they could be grilling in the fireplace before you could say Semper Fi." He canted his head, thinking before adding, "But I'm keeping the marshmallows."

It surprised the hell out of him when Gibbs turned his head a bit and scoffed, which was the Marine equivalent of a full belly laugh. He dropped the sandpaper on the workbench and clapped his hands together to shake off the dust.

"So was that a yes to steak or yes to turkey?" Tony's smile widened at Gibbs' eyebrow. "I'll let Abby know." He fumbled out his collapsible blade—a gift from Gibbs that was neither for birthday or Christmas but Tony made sure never to lose it all the same.

"You want dark meat or light?" Tony called out as he climbed the stairs. "Better call dibs now. We rock, paper, scissor’d for it yesterday and I got carving duty."

"Tony."

Tony's foot hung over a step. He checked over his shoulder. Gibbs stood at the foot of the stairs.

"Just say the word," Tony said, sobering. He swallowed, wondering what he would tell Abby. It didn't matter to him. It didn't. But Abby would be disappointed.

Gibbs' mouth curled up at the corners. He nodded towards Tony's blade.

"You can't carve a bird with that." Gibbs' steady tread. "I have a carving knife in the kitchen somewhere."

The blade snapped back into the handle with a satisfying click as they both left the basement in search of a proper knife.



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Comments

[lukon-idein.livejournal.com]

Oooh, I adored this one!! I can totally relate to Gibbs being thrown by the invasion of an unexpected social event, and he never likes to have his hand forced, but it was a great way to smack him in the head with the idea that these people are his family. I could totally see Tony doing that!

[alidiabin]

Awww. I loved that Tony instigated this meal. And though I'm not American I can see the sweetness of it. Aww.

[sinfulslasher]

This is my fave, hands down.

I love sneaky Tony being sneaky, but willing to call it all off again if Gibbs didn't want the team there after all. Love the fact that there's a traditional non-Thanksgiving get together of steak and beer for Tony and Gibbs. Hell, love the closeness between Tony and Gibbs, how Tony deals with the whole situation. *hearts*

And, of course, Gibbs giving his blessing in the end. In his very own way. (Offering his carving knife is serious business! *g*)

[megamom2.livejournal.com]

These are all well done, but this is really special! So much history and emotion packed into your telling!

[mrwubbles.livejournal.com]

I only wished the show would have them all sit down for dinner too! Thank you for reading and reviewing!