The first time Gibbs met Tony DiNozzo he was wearing a nametag that said 'Todd' and a smile that seemed out of place.
The first time Gibbs met Tony DiNozzo he was wearing a nametag that said 'Todd' and a smile that seemed out of place. The rest of the valets Gibbs caught sight of were all business, but Tony just whistled at his silver convertible while Gibbs' tossed him the keys.
"Nice ride, boss," he said.
He had a look in his eyes like he wanted to just get in it and drive, and maybe not stop, and only the job kept Gibbs from taking back the keys.
"Don't scratch it," he told, him before turning and jogging up the steps.
"Don't worry, she's in good hands!" he shouted after him.
-----
The next time Gibbs met Tony DiNozzo, he was his waiter that same night, wearing a nametag that said 'Alfonso'.
"Oh, hey," Alfonso said. "You're the convertible guy."
"I thought you were the valet," Gibbs said, as he took a flute off his tray.
"Alfonso got the flu," he told him. "Nasty little bug. Poor guy threw up all over his own shoes. We're set with valets, so I offered to fill in."
Gibbs' eyes scanned the ball and nodded absently. "Just so long as you're not the lounge singer, too."
DiNozzo flashed him that grin again. "Not tonight, no."
-----
Gibbs really didn't want to be here. He was never a fan of these kinds of pretentious get-togethers, and the only thing saving the night was the thought of taking down the scum he'd flown all the way here to catch.
The party held most of the richest people in America, and rich people from everywhere else too. It was also the meeting place for a defected naval weapons specialist and the arms dealer planning to buy twenty state of the art missiles.
So he was willing putting up with the sparkling ball gowns and the masks for now. "You should ask someone to dance," Abby told him over the comms, and Gibbs turned away so no one would see him respond into the microphone beneath his collar.
"This is not the time to get cute," he said.
"Speaking of cute," Abby said. "Where's that gorgeous Jack of all trades? If I have to sit here and watch this video footage all night, I should at least have some eye candy."
"Jack of all trades?" Gibbs repeated.
"Yeah, that valet waiter guy," she said.
Gibbs frowned as he realized something he probably should have been thinking of already--that while he was so intent looking for anyone acting suspicious, he had completely ignored what was glaringly obvious.
But something about the guy had set him at ease just when he probably should have been at his most guarded.
"You know what, Abs, you're right," Gibbs said, pushing through the crowd. "We really should find him."
There was no sign of the man, but Gibbs found the waiter's vest abandoned in the kitchen, with the 'Alfonso' nametag still pinned to the side.
-----
Gibbs wandered back out into the fray, adjusting his tiepin, and the miniature camera it held. "Any sign of our defector yet?"
"It's a little hard to tell with everyone wearing masks," Abby said. "I'm freezing images of anyone that matches his general description and running it against Lieutenant Harlen's photo, but this is going to take time, Gibbs. Our facial recognition program is horribly out of date."
"Just move it along as fast as you can. Something's going on here, I don't like it," Gibbs said.
"Well, yeah," she said. "One of our own guys is selling cutting age missiles to an arms dealer. It's very very bad."
"Not what I mean," Gibbs said wryly. "Something else."
"Well, at least you look dashing in that black mask," Abby told him.
-----
"We've got him, Gibbs!" Abby yelled into the earpiece. Gibbs winced a little at the volume and adjusted it, before shaking his head. "He's the guy in the tiger mask. You passed him a couple of tables back."
Gibbs looked behind him and spotted him easily enough. He was going out one of the side doors with another man, who was wearing an eye mask that looked to be modeled after a black panther.
"Got him," Gibbs said, and slipped through the crowd to follow them out.
"You got the money?" Harlan was asking.
Gibbs un-holstered his gun and crept up to the corner, leaning slightly over to get a view down the hall. The arms dealer crossed his arms.
"What is this, amateur night? Of course I've got the fucking money, but you're not seeing a cent until I see the schematics."
Harlan handed over a flash disk and the dealer lifted his briefcase and placed it on the end table, opening it up to reveal a laptop. Schematics for the new Navy weapons appeared on the screen and the dealer nodded. "Okay. We've got a deal. Tell me the location of the weapons and I'll send my boys to pick it up, soon as I get confirmation," he paused to lift a duffel bag, "you get this."
"They're in the old beer factory on Ellis street," Harlan said.
"You get that, Abs?" Gibbs whispered into his microphone.
"Got it," she said. "Our guys are on their way."
Gibbs nodded and swung into the hall, gun up. "Hands where I can see them," he said.
"I knew it," the arms dealer said, more in resignation than anything else, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him.
Harlan wasn't as calm about the newest development, and he took off running fast.
"Fucking wonderful," the arms dealer shouted, "did you think that through at all?"
When he took off running too, Gibbs was already moving and he tackled him to the ground. The panther mask pushed off and as Gibbs lost his upper hand and found himself pinned to the floor, he decided he really shouldn't be so surprised to see it was his valet/waiter.
Todd/Alfonso grinned at him brightly, just the way he had over the top of his car, and when he'd offered him a glass of champagne. "I really don't have the time to explain this one," he told him congenially, before he scrambled back to his feet and took off running after Harlan.
Gibbs cursed and started after them both.
-----
When Gibbs went barreling out the back doors, he came to an abrupt halt. Police cars were blocking the way out of the alley and the Jack of all trades had Harlan pinned to the ground, and was busy cuffing his hands behind his back.
Gibbs ignored Abby's excited commentary and walked over to stop beside them. "So, are you actually a cop, or is this just for the next five minutes?"
The guy looked up with that damn smile again. "I guess we'll see," he said, as he pulled Harlan up to his feet. "Detective Tony DiNozzo, at your service, for five minutes, at least."
"Not that I don't appreciate your effort," Gibbs said, slipping his hands into his pockets, "but this guy's Navy, and he belongs to me."
"You NCIS?" he asked.
Gibbs nodded, hiding his surprise. Most people couldn't even figure out what it stood for, let alone guess it out of thin air.
He shrugged good-naturedly and shoved Harlan at him. "He's all yours," he said.
Gibbs frowned, suddenly suspicious. He'd been in his share of turf wars with cops and the FBI alike, and no one ever gave in easy, if only on principle alone. The cop seemed to know what he was thinking, and he flashed his smuggest grin yet. "We already have Cain in custody, and he's the guy we were really after."
"The arms dealer," Gibbs said.
He nodded. "Yeah. We've been trying to bring him down for months. I found him inside and borrowed his jacket and mask to meet with your guy--they'll both be going away for a long time, and that's enough to keep me happy."
"I guess its win-win then," Gibbs said, as two of his field agents wandered over and took Harlan off his hands. He watched them go for a minute, not really impressed with them.
They had no spark.
Gibbs needed people with spark.
-----
Gibbs had already sent Harlan back on a plane to Virginia, would have been with him but he'd asked Morrow for a favor. Morrow owed him more than one, so he'd be heading back in a week instead.
Hopefully not alone.
DiNozzo was at his desk in the bullpen when he entered the precinct. He had his feet up on the desk and his jacket over the back of his chair, his stripped dress shirt partially obscured by the shoulder holster and his gun.
"If you're here to try and steal Cain too," DiNozzo said, without looking up from the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated in his hands, "you can go ahead and turn right back around."
Gibbs came to a stop at his desk and gave a wry grin. "What if I said I was here to try and steal you?" he asked.
DiNozzo looked up, startled, and dropped his feet down off the desk. "Come again?"
"I want you to come and work for me," Gibbs said.
Tony crossed his arms on his desk, looking serious for the first time since they met. "At NCIS," he said slowly, just to clarify.
"Yes," Gibbs said. "As one of my field agents."
Tony seemed to have recovered from his earlier surprise, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes threatening a smile again. "And why would you want that?"
Gibbs leaned forward, closer than he usually let himself get, and said easily, "Maybe I just like your smile."