[Fire & Ice Series] The Real Folk Blues
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kissmeprobieTitle: The Real Folk Blues
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Warning(s): AU, McGee/Tony PRESLASH
Word Count: 922 words
Summary: McGee's first tangle with the criminal called "Silver Tongue." [Fire & Ice Series]
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
A/N: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ncis_shared challenge: "Gen., Anthony DiNozzo: As a criminal"
The house where their perp was said to be found looked like it had come straight out of The Amityville Horror. Tim checked his gun rather nervously before following Gibbs inside.
“Nervous, McGee?” the Marine asked as he stepped through the door frame.
“A little. I don’t like creaking houses.”
Especially on dark, stormy evenings, he thought. There was such a thing as truth in fiction.
“Keep your flashlight on, and listen, McGee. No one’s going to be sneaking up on you without you knowing it.”
McGee shivered a little. It was at times like these that he became convinced that Gibbs put too much faith in his abilities.
He drew his gun and flashlight, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The rotten wood creaked ominously under his feet; a sharp, cold autumnal wind blew in through the east side of the house (which was missing its entire side).
“‘Just listen, McGee,’” he muttered sarcastically. “‘Then no one can sneak up on you!’ Yeah, right.... Crap, I am so screwed....”
A scuttling sound made him start, and he whirled around to shine light in the offending corner. Two small black rats studied him for a moment before squeaking and disappearing down an exposed pipe.
Tim groaned, and went back to his original task. He simply wasn’t cut out to be a field agent; Gibbs had done his best, and Kate helped whenever she could, but almost all his practical training was taking place on the fly, making his education spotty at best.
“I should have stayed at Norfolk,” he said quietly, too enveloped in a damp veil of self-pity to pay much attention to his surroundings.
---------------------------
Much to his disgruntlement, Gibbs had found nothing on the first floor. He was further irritated by rumble of thunder that reminded him of the weather report’s prediction of a lightening storm later that night. He raised a hand to his earpiece: “McGee, we’re going to wrap this up for tonight. You’d better get down here.” He paused, expecting a reply. But there was none forthcoming. “McGee, did you hear me?”
“Boss...uh...I’ve got a bit of a...problem....”
Shit.
“Don’t move, McGee,” Gibbs ordered through clenched teeth, and ran to the stairs.
Another ominous rumble rolled through the air, and a lightening bolt ripped through the sky, illuminating the staircase as he climbed it. This only put him more on edge, with his finger spasming on the gun’s trigger.
As he neared the top, he stopped hurrying, pausing right before emerging on the second floor. There was no reason for him to hurry and then be shot for his trouble.
He almost missed the soft laugh in another rumble of thunder.
“Geez, Gibbs...you know I’m not going to shoot anyone unless you make me....”
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs breathed, and moved again.
The scene that greeted was one that he would have expected from DiNozzo; McGee had been forced to his knees, his arms twisted up behind him and held in place by one of DiNozzo’s feet, which were illuminated by McGee’s fallen flashlight. Tony had a gun in his right hand that was aimed at the young agent’s head, while a second weapon was trained on Gibbs.
“More theatrics, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked darkly.
“C’mon, Gibbs, I slept with David for three years. Can’t do that without picking up something, right?”
“She still wants to cut your head off, by the way.”
A flash of lightning illuminated DiNozzo’s grin. “I knew it. Ziva still loves me.”
“Boss,” McGee said through gritted teeth. “A little help --”
“Don’t move, McGee. He’ll blow your head off if you twitch the wrong way,” Gibbs warned.
“He’s right, Probie!” Tony said cheerfully. “Just hang on for five more minutes, and this’ll all be over by then -- one way or the other.”
“Going to fight me, Tony?” Gibbs asked, tightening the grip on his trigger. He knew how powerful Tony’s legs were; there was very little chance that McGee would be able to successfully dislodge him, much less escape death in the process. It all depended on how quickly Gibbs could pull the trigger.
“Aw, Gibbs! There’s no way I could beat you in a fair fight! There’s just no point in me trying.” In the golden light of the flashlight, Gibbs saw Tony kick McGee into unconsciousness, and he was able to let out a swear word as a second man’s fist crashed down on the back of his neck.
---------------------------
Tony went ahead and killed Tadeo; the man had done his part in knocking out Gibbs, and Tony didn’t need another loose end. He then took a moment to study his hostage’s face.
So this was his replacement. What Gibbs had been thinking, taking a kid like this with him out on this trip, Tony didn’t know.
“Who are you, anyway?” Tony asked aloud. He flipped the Probie onto his back and searched through his pockets until he located the ID card that marked McGee as an NCIS agent. “Cute name,” he quipped, letting the wallet slip from his fingers onto the ground. There was no point in trying to clean up; Gibbs would have a positive identification on him.
Speaking of which....
Tony approached Gibbs unconscious body cautiously; he had been tricked in the past. But there was no response when he searched Gibbs and no twitch when he located the jump drive.
“Sorry, Boss,” he said to the unconscious body. “Just business.”
He walked out of the house and into the downpour of rain, whistling.
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Warning(s): AU, McGee/Tony PRESLASH
Word Count: 922 words
Summary: McGee's first tangle with the criminal called "Silver Tongue." [Fire & Ice Series]
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
A/N: For the
ncis_shared challenge: "Gen., Anthony DiNozzo: As a criminal"The house where their perp was said to be found looked like it had come straight out of The Amityville Horror. Tim checked his gun rather nervously before following Gibbs inside.
“Nervous, McGee?” the Marine asked as he stepped through the door frame.
“A little. I don’t like creaking houses.”
Especially on dark, stormy evenings, he thought. There was such a thing as truth in fiction.
“Keep your flashlight on, and listen, McGee. No one’s going to be sneaking up on you without you knowing it.”
McGee shivered a little. It was at times like these that he became convinced that Gibbs put too much faith in his abilities.
He drew his gun and flashlight, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The rotten wood creaked ominously under his feet; a sharp, cold autumnal wind blew in through the east side of the house (which was missing its entire side).
“‘Just listen, McGee,’” he muttered sarcastically. “‘Then no one can sneak up on you!’ Yeah, right.... Crap, I am so screwed....”
A scuttling sound made him start, and he whirled around to shine light in the offending corner. Two small black rats studied him for a moment before squeaking and disappearing down an exposed pipe.
Tim groaned, and went back to his original task. He simply wasn’t cut out to be a field agent; Gibbs had done his best, and Kate helped whenever she could, but almost all his practical training was taking place on the fly, making his education spotty at best.
“I should have stayed at Norfolk,” he said quietly, too enveloped in a damp veil of self-pity to pay much attention to his surroundings.
Much to his disgruntlement, Gibbs had found nothing on the first floor. He was further irritated by rumble of thunder that reminded him of the weather report’s prediction of a lightening storm later that night. He raised a hand to his earpiece: “McGee, we’re going to wrap this up for tonight. You’d better get down here.” He paused, expecting a reply. But there was none forthcoming. “McGee, did you hear me?”
“Boss...uh...I’ve got a bit of a...problem....”
Shit.
“Don’t move, McGee,” Gibbs ordered through clenched teeth, and ran to the stairs.
Another ominous rumble rolled through the air, and a lightening bolt ripped through the sky, illuminating the staircase as he climbed it. This only put him more on edge, with his finger spasming on the gun’s trigger.
As he neared the top, he stopped hurrying, pausing right before emerging on the second floor. There was no reason for him to hurry and then be shot for his trouble.
He almost missed the soft laugh in another rumble of thunder.
“Geez, Gibbs...you know I’m not going to shoot anyone unless you make me....”
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs breathed, and moved again.
The scene that greeted was one that he would have expected from DiNozzo; McGee had been forced to his knees, his arms twisted up behind him and held in place by one of DiNozzo’s feet, which were illuminated by McGee’s fallen flashlight. Tony had a gun in his right hand that was aimed at the young agent’s head, while a second weapon was trained on Gibbs.
“More theatrics, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked darkly.
“C’mon, Gibbs, I slept with David for three years. Can’t do that without picking up something, right?”
“She still wants to cut your head off, by the way.”
A flash of lightning illuminated DiNozzo’s grin. “I knew it. Ziva still loves me.”
“Boss,” McGee said through gritted teeth. “A little help --”
“Don’t move, McGee. He’ll blow your head off if you twitch the wrong way,” Gibbs warned.
“He’s right, Probie!” Tony said cheerfully. “Just hang on for five more minutes, and this’ll all be over by then -- one way or the other.”
“Going to fight me, Tony?” Gibbs asked, tightening the grip on his trigger. He knew how powerful Tony’s legs were; there was very little chance that McGee would be able to successfully dislodge him, much less escape death in the process. It all depended on how quickly Gibbs could pull the trigger.
“Aw, Gibbs! There’s no way I could beat you in a fair fight! There’s just no point in me trying.” In the golden light of the flashlight, Gibbs saw Tony kick McGee into unconsciousness, and he was able to let out a swear word as a second man’s fist crashed down on the back of his neck.
Tony went ahead and killed Tadeo; the man had done his part in knocking out Gibbs, and Tony didn’t need another loose end. He then took a moment to study his hostage’s face.
So this was his replacement. What Gibbs had been thinking, taking a kid like this with him out on this trip, Tony didn’t know.
“Who are you, anyway?” Tony asked aloud. He flipped the Probie onto his back and searched through his pockets until he located the ID card that marked McGee as an NCIS agent. “Cute name,” he quipped, letting the wallet slip from his fingers onto the ground. There was no point in trying to clean up; Gibbs would have a positive identification on him.
Speaking of which....
Tony approached Gibbs unconscious body cautiously; he had been tricked in the past. But there was no response when he searched Gibbs and no twitch when he located the jump drive.
“Sorry, Boss,” he said to the unconscious body. “Just business.”
He walked out of the house and into the downpour of rain, whistling.
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