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[glasgowsmiles.livejournal.com]

Title: When The Whip Comes Down
Chapter One: Tea And Sympathy
Author: GlasgowSmiles
Rating: currently PGish
Pairing: McNozzo (currently pre-slash)
Disclaimer: If they were mine, they'd have spent the Christmas episode under the mistletoe.
Warning(s): Nothing objectionable
Summary: The team investigates the death of an ex-Naval Lieutenant. There is pie, and Tony tries to think straight.
Notes: Well, this is my first NCIS fic... *nervous smile* Thanks so much for the lovely feedback on the prologue, and I hope you continue to enjoy.
NOTE: Wow, I thought I had already posted this, but I guess I never actually got it up. Sorry about the long wait!

McGee settled into the booth, looking around with an almost endearing awkwardness. “I don’t know, Tony…”

“What’s not to know? We’re talking about a free slice of the best pie you will ever eat.”

“We haven’t solved Cable’s murder yet.”

“We will.”

“Random killings are always harder. There were no signs of gang involvement. It doesn’t fit into the MO of any serial killer, and God willing it’s not a new one. From what your interviews turned up, everybody loved this guy. I mean, did it sound like they were hiding something?”

“No. Now just sit back and enjoy yourself? Cup of coffee, the best pie in town, cozy atmosphere…”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I do cozy…” McGee shifted.

“Relax, will you? Look. This place is perfect. There are even movie stills up on the walls.” Tony gestured to the various pictures. “‘Bride of Frankenstein’, ‘Bringing Up Baby’, ‘The Maltese Falcon’…”

“That’s great, Tony.”

“And there’s ‘Gilda’. Man, that Rita Hayworth was a fox, am I right? ‘Rope’, not one of the best remembered by old Hitch. ‘Rebel Without A Cause’, classic. And… something with cowboys. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me… Okay, I don’t know. And behind me is Ben Hur. Seven out of eight. Who’s the man?”

“You are.” McGee sighed.

The waitress came by, all false bright smiles, her fingers winding at the chain around her neck, making the little plastic ‘lipstick’ charm at the end dance. “What can I get you?”

“A cup of coffee and a slice of your freshest pie for me, and for my partner… What do you want, Probalicious?”

The waitress tittered discreetly behind her scratch pad at the nickname.

“Uh, sure. I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Coming right up.” She dropped the little plastic lipstick to bounce against the front of her dress. “Is cherry okay?”

“Cherry’s fine.” Tony smiled at her. “Probemeister?”

“I love cherry.”

Tony was watching the waitress walk away, and may have missed the first two times McGee hissed his name. “What?”

“Could you not call me ‘probie’ in front of the waitress?”

“Ah, but I didn’t call you ‘probie’. I called you Probalicious. And Probemeister. And don’t even think about impressing her, because I saw her first.”

“I don’t want to impress her, but has it occurred to you that your little nicknames, taken entirely out of context, could… well… give her the wrong impression?”

Tony blinked. “You know, I hadn’t. We could tell her you’re an alien abductee. I bet you watched every episode of The X-Files, you could probably fake it pretty well, McGeek.”

“Actually, I stopped when they jumped the shark, and-- hey! I am not pretending to be some yokel alien abductee. As far as I’m concerned, she can draw whatever conclusions she likes. You’re the one who won’t be getting anywhere with her.”

Tony sat back in the booth. “Okay, when she gets here, shut up and enjoy your coffee.”

“Sure thing, honey.” McGee smiled, his eyes almost comically wide. And innocent… and pretty…

Only, not pretty. In fact, you could pretty much name him McNotpretty. Special Agent Biggreeneyes McNotpretty.

Maybe this day could be improved by repeatedly thumping his head into the wall…

“Hey, Tony, do you know where the bathroom is here?”

“Thataway.” He pointed. Once McGee was safely out of the way, he went ahead and commenced with the head thumping.

“Tough investigation?” The waitress came by with the coffee.

“You could say that.” Tony aimed at charming. If possible, charming enough to cover up the whole head-to-wall thing.

“I’ll be right back with your pie.” She returned his smile.

The pie was on the table when McGee got back.

“You didn’t tell me it was so creepy.” He slid into the booth.

“Oh, you mean Tony Curtis watching you pee? Of course, he’s in heaven now,” Tony looked ceilingward. “Maybe he watches us all pee. All the time. Isn’t that a thought?”

McGee glared. “I think, if the afterlife exists, the dead have better things to do with their time than watching you in the bathroom.”

“Maybe they have better things to do than watching you in the bathroom. Now, personally, I’d switch Curtis out with Rita Hayworth. She could ogle my junk any time.

“Charming.” McGee rolled his eyes and picked up his fork.

“Do you think he’s hanging in the women’s room too?”

“Why don’t you go find out? Oh, wow, this pie is amazing…”

Tony grinned. “What did I tell you?”

Then there were sounds of gustatorial pleasure. Sounds of gustatorial pleasure that transformed simple, meek McNotpretty into the very not-simple and not-meek McReallysexuallyattractive.

Well crap in a hat.

“Mm, I mean I thought you were just trying to make us all jealous over how great your assignment was, but this is-- oh yeah-- the best pie since Mom’s.”

“My mother never baked pie.”

“Oh. Um. So, what kind did they have last time?”

“Coconut.” Tony whispered it, almost reverently. “It was sublime.”

McGee sighed. “If I could eat this every day, I would.”

“If we solve this case, I foresee a lifetime supply of pie for all of us. Not that Thom E. Gemcity couldn’t afford all the pie his little heart desired.”

“I meant… you know, health-wise, not as a question of obtaining the pie. Metabolisms and… you know, diet versus exercise, um…”

“You could always get more exercise.”

“Gee, thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, McMetabolism. Oh, and, by the way? You got a little,” He reached across the table, his thumb swiping the dab of pie filling away from the corner of McGee’s mouth. “Mm. Pie-licious.”

McGee cleared his throat nervously. “Right. Well. Thanks. So, um, the, ah, the one out of eight, the cowboy picture? Is from ‘Red River’.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“I read the provenance.” He said, like it should have been incredibly obvious.

“Oh. You cheated.”

McGee pulled a face. Tony leaned back, chuckling, which if anything increased the McScowl, and that was when Mark came to their table.

“Everything all right, gentlemen?”

“Just great.” Tony beamed. “Excellent pie. You know, I might come back tomorrow.”

“Is there… anything you can tell me, about Scotty?”

“Forensic evidence is turning up some leads.” He nodded. “Nothing I can really go into, but don’t worry, we’re looking into every angle. We’ll find out what happened to your friend.”

“I know they’ve been putting out a lot of blue lights downtown recently…”

“We’ll talk to the police department about any ongoing murder investigations they have. So far nothing on record matches, but rest assured, we are doing everything.”

“I know you are, Agent DiNozzo. Thank you. All of us,” He nodded towards The Regulars. “Are glad you’re investigating this.”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” One of the old men ambled over from The Regulars’ side of the restaurant. “Some of us were in the Navy, too, Agent DiNozzo. Your organization’s got an all right reputation.”

He ambled on back to The Regulars.

“And it’s nice to meet you.” Mark extended his hand to McGee. “Mark Russo.”

“Timothy McGee. Agent. I, uh, we work together.”

“Ah. Well, like I said, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” McGee nodded.

“Russo owns the restaurant.” Tony explained. “His aunt was Auntie Dot. Or something like that. I call the geezer Old Gus.”

“You make him sound like a prospector.”

“It’s a good name. And over there, there’s Rick, Adam, Doug, Jack, Steve, Wilfred, and… I wanna say Alfredo, but I think his name is Mike.”

“You’re a strange man, Tony.”

“There’s also three guys named Dave, but only two of them are here. And a guy named Phil who’s, like, ninety-five and lives in Vermont, who’s coming in for the funeral because every year Scotty visited him to watch the Army-Navy game, which was especially important after Phil’s buddy and his wife both passed. I learned a lot about these guys the other day.”

“I can see that.”

 

~~~~~~~~

"Give me some good news, Abby."

"Gibbs, don't I always bring you good news?" She bounced on the balls of her feet, beaming.

Tony leaned against the wall and mentally strapped in for the geek speak that would precede anything he could use. There were prints and partial prints, most of which weren't on file, most of which were probably from maneuvering through crowds, friendly pats on the back. There were fibers on his clothes, which hadn't yielded anything particularly useful yet.

"Abby, you said good news?" Gibbs growled.

"Oh, right, so the murder weapon you're looking for is probably a steel-toed boot, but here's the thing; our Mister Cable was--"

"Kicked to death?" McGee's face was twisted up in horror as he ducked into the lab. Definitely not cute, but... there was something painfully endearing about someone in their line of work who still reacted that strongly.

Of course, being kicked to death was a pretty horrible concept, even if you did investigate murder every day.

"Most likely." Abby explained. "I mean, in the sense that the killing blow was probably dealt by a foot, to his head, after he was down. Although it's possible that this happened after death, it's hard to tell. What we can tell you is, the lieutenant took a punch to the jaw, bruising on the knuckles indicate he got in a few licks of his own. Then he got kneecapped-- um, it could have been a board, a pipe, a bat, a golf club... there's no particulate matter from the blunt instrument, just a busted knee. Ducky says defensive wounds to the forearms were probably incurred after Cable went down, but then he took a couple kicks to the skull, and..."

"All right."

"Anyway, Ducky will probably give you a call when he's done with the body. He might be able to tell you more about it then."

"I'll head down and ask him." Gibbs nodded. "DiNozzo!"

"Yes, Boss?"

"I want you to go back to the scene. Look for anything that you could use to kneecap somebody. Take McGee. McGee!"

"On it, Boss."

"See if you can pull any prints off of... anything."

~~~~~~~~

tbc...

Comments

[kayla25.livejournal.com]

I really like your story, great writing, hope there comes soon a new chapter. just one thing that doesn't fit - Tony Curtis isn't dead ;)

[kat-scratches.livejournal.com]

Likin' this lots so far! :) Although I'm really glad I didn't have a mouthful of coffee when I read 'crap in a hat', as that could've been disastrous!

[redvelvetribbon.livejournal.com]

Oh I love this story. Ummm listening and watching McGee eat all that yummy pie is going to be Tonys down fall...not to meantion Mcgees going to need some exercise to work it all off. wink wink...