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Is There Anything Tony DiNozzo Can’t Do?

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Tony DiNozzo was a playboy, that was an indisputable fact. Everybody who had ever met the agent knew of his sexual escapades, he boasted about his conquests as they came. He could barely keep anything private, be it; sexual maneuvers, stunningly attractive women or drunken adventures. Frankly, all his colleagues drowned out his talking as white noise, not too unlike what they do with Ducky when he goes off on a tangent about wartime stamps or Mother’s mishaps.


Tonight was shaping out to be a memorable night, something he’d definitely be sharing with the squad over coffee and breakfast burritos the next morning. He wasn’t one to be out so late on a Sunday, but one drink had turned into two and so on. At 10 PM, just as he was about to call it a night, he met a guy. He went by the name of Chris - not that Tony would remember that detail in the morning - but Chris was a hunk. Tony had never admitted he liked a little meat in his diet, his encounters with men were exaggerated and stretched beyond the truth by 0900.


Tony was completely mesmerized by Chris, his piercing green eyes and chocolate brown mess of hair coupled with peach fuzz gave him a rugged yet sophisticated look. It was only natural that he put on the charm, to which Chris laughed. The James Bond act dropped, and Tony turned into a shy blubbering mess. The two had several drinks and a few rounds of shots before things turned frisky. In a heated rush, the two took things to the bathroom. Dirty sex was something Tony was used to. Although, he was usually the one holding the reigns, this time, however, he was totally at Chris’ mercy. Several violently passionate kisses slammed up against the wall later, Chris was ripping off Tony’s jeans. Bent over the toilet in a locked cubicle, Tony lost his anal virginity. The encounter could only be explained as painful and rough, but he enjoyed it - towards the end anyway.


Chris put Tony into a taxi at 0300 and gave the driver 50 dollars to take Tony to wherever he needed to go. Tony had stumbled into his building, staggered to the elevator and tumbled through his door to collapse onto his bed.


His alarm went off at 0700. One eye shot open, the other glued together with crust, it scanned the room. Was he home? When did that happen? He groaned loudly as he pushed himself up from the bed. Filled with instantaneous regret, he dragged his heavy bones to the bathroom to get ready for work.


He ran the shower and stripped off, that’s when he noticed the dried stains in his boxers. It was unmistakably dried cum. The stain cued a memory from the night before, along with it a pang of pain that shot through his rectum. He remembered being fucked in a club toilet, he’d smile proudly if only his ass didn’t hurt so badly. In the shower, he scrubbed his ass extra thoroughly to get rid of the slightly gooey muck left behind.


Luckily, he had left with enough time to stop and get a cup of coffee before turning up for work. He sure needed it, with a hangover to rival all others there was absolutely no way that he’d survive the morning without a latte with an extra shot - the morning called for something strong, ordinarily Tony hated coffee.

Despite it being the dead of winter, Tony rocked up to the office donning his Ray-Ban shades. Behind them were bloodshot eyes and dark grey bags. Of course, Gibbs would tell him to ditch the glasses but at least it gave his eyes some much-needed rest for the time being.


Gibbs watched at Tony waddled from the elevator to his desk. He coked a brow and scoffed, “You okay DiNozzo?” His Senior Feild Agent couldn’t be any more transparent. It was obvious that Tony was recovering from a wild night, in more ways than one.


“Yeah, Boss? ‘M fine.” His voice hoarse from hours of shouting above the music blasting in the club. When Gibb’s mobile began to ring, the piercing sound shot through his head triggering a sharp throb.


“You’d better be,” He paused, “Body at Fort Dupont.” Loudly groaning, Tony would have given anything for a quiet day at his desk, but of course, murder doesn’t wait for just anybody. “Got a problem DiNozzo?”


“No Boss. I’ll go gass up the truck.” He shot up from his chair, grabbed his rucksack, and his holster and secondary gun from the bottom drawer of his desk. Gibbs threw Tony over the keys and chuckled smugly. He was going to enjoy torturing the younger man to all ends today.

Tony had kept this story a secret. Mostly because he was incredibly embarrassed by his actions and knew that even spinning a story in his favor would bring back the memory of the brilliant but humiliating evening.






He hadn’t felt himself for days, close to a week by now. He’d thought his nausea was just his stomach protesting to some bad rice he’d eaten without refrigerating. It had to be at least three days old, but he had been hungry after an all-nighter at the office. Of course, he didn’t worry about going to a doctor or even seeing Ducky because he often got himself into similar situations and they always passed within a week.


It was a Tuesday, a pretty mundane Tuesday. Tony was falling asleep at his desk despite the constant pressure from Gibbs to complete some paperwork and reports that he was falling behind on. Perhaps it was the glaring monitor or the fluorescent lighting that was making him so drowsy, but he couldn’t fight back the fatigue.


Gibbs’ phone rang around the bullpen, even that deafening tone wasn’t enough to shake DiNozzo from his nap. When Gibbs hung up the phone, he looked up from his desk, he could see Ziva and McGee eyeing each other from across the room anxiously as they awaited Gibbs’ orders. It soon became obvious that Tony wasn’t going to wake up, so Gibbs took the first step and towered over DiNozzo’s desk.


Ziva coughed loudly, hoping to wake Tony up before Gibbs’ patience ran out, as it was already running incredibly thin. McGee and Ziva were moderately hesitant and sympathetic towards Tony, knowing that whatever was wrong wasn’t his fault. Gibbs didn’t see it in the same way.


“DiNozzo!” Gibbs yelled, clapping his hands together loudly. Tony shot up, startled.


“I wasn’t sleeping! Just resting my eyes...” He replied defensively.


“Well, you can quit ‘resting your eyes’, we’ve got a dead marine.”


“You know, Boss...I was kinda hoping to sit this one out. I’m not feeling so hot.” Not only was he losing the battle against the Sandman, his stomach was tossing and turning. He was used to the recent development of heartburn, but it seemed his food poisoning had finally caught up with him.


“Good thing we’re going outside then isn’t it DiNozzo? The fresh air will do you some good.” He didn’t know why expected some humility from his Boss, Gibbs’ was a marine, after all, he had no Lilly-livered bone in his body.


“Gotcha Boss.” He desperately wanted to feel better, he really did. He suspected that Gibbs didn’t believe he was sincere about his troubles, that he was ‘just being DiNozzo’, making up excuses to skip work. Without any further protest, he followed McGee and Ziva out to the truck.


As if he wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts already, who should hop into the driver’s seat of the van? None other than Ziva David. Wildcard Israeli, fearless assassin and ruthless driver. It was almost as if the laws of the road were designed to prevent people like her from putting the key in the ignition of a car. Every bump, sharp swerve and jolting break sent his stomach into a frenzy.


“Pull over!” Tony cried. Ziva sensed the urgency in her co-worker’s voice and hastily drove the van off the road. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Tony flung open the door and collapsed out. It was just in time too. He threw up the contents of his stomach into the grass at his feet.


“Tony? Are you alright?” McGee cringed as the retching continued.


“You are being overdramatic. My driving is actually very good.” Ziva could argue that her driving was better than Gibbs’ but that was about it. She was notorious for running red lights and stop signs, as well as breaching the speed limit in pedestrian-heavy areas of town. All things considered, her driving may be more suited to a Fast and Furious drag race than Washinton DC.


“You almost killed me.” Tony breathed, he felt a lot better than before. If anything, he was grateful to have been in the van. After throwing up he felt the best he’d been all week. McGee passed Tony a bottle of water from his rucksack and opened a packet of wet wipes.


“Thanks, probie.” Tony swirled the water around in his mouth before spitting it on the floor. He used the wipe to clean the sweat from his forehead and to clean any vomit from around his mouth, “anybody have a breath mint?”


“Here.” McGee pulled out some TicTacs from his treasure trove, Tony had always teased him for being so well equipped, but today he was incredibly glad his probie was always so resourceful.



The team finally pulled up beside the M.E. van and Gibbs’ car. All three waiting for the agent’s arrival. Gibbs, in particular, didn’t seem too impressed. Along with their gear, Tony grabbed his camera from the back and all the evidence markers.


“Did you three get lost? Was McGee driving?” Gibbs remarked with a gruff and unappreciative tone.


“This one over here made us pull over because he has a weak stomach.” Ziva had ratted Tony out, with no hesitation or consideration. He glared at her whilst she smiled cockily. It had been Ziva who implicated her driving as the cause of Tony’s upset stomach, he hadn’t even said anything. Yet he was still at the hot end of the prod.


“Well, the marine isn’t going anywhere, Tony, get your camera ready.” Tony exhaled with relief, Gibbs hadn’t made any more of the situation. He enthusiastically began to take pictures of the surrounding area to help create the crime scene sketches back at the office.


“I’d estimate he’s been here for at least a week, with this state of decomposition. As you can see Jethro, the poor man has been victim to scavengers.” Ducky picked and prodded at the victim’s navy uniform to find a wallet with some ID.


“Who is he?” Gibbs asked. McGee squatted next to the remains pulling out his fingerprint scanner. With his gloved hand, he placed the presumed marine’s right index finger on the pin-pad.


“Prints aren’t registered on the AFIS database.” As it would seem, the body couldn’t be identified using his prints which made the death all that more suspicious. A civilian wearing navy lieutenant garb? The picture became ever so warped.


“DiNozzo!” Gibbs called for his agent’s attention, “get some shots of the body.”


“Can, do Boss...” Tony paused, on sight of the body, “are those maggots?” Tony gagged as the grubs crawled all over the marine’s body. His own skin started to crawl as he envisioned the insects chowing down on his body. It was like they were everywhere, tickling the hairs on his neck.


“What’s wrong dear boy? They’re just larvae.” Ducky laughed heartily as Tony turned positively green.


“It’s just so, gross, you know.” Tony swallowed the bile as it rose in his throat, he suppressed the need, having to act professionally. He got a little closer to the body to take a clearer shot, that’s when the smell hit him. “Uh, Boss...” Tony went pale.


“Take it over there DiNozzo. Don’t you compromise my crime scene.” Tony darted off and into the woods. Holding the camera in one hand and clenching his stomach with the other, he allowed himself to let go of what was snaking up his plumbing. There wasn’t anything left in his system, but his body still fought with him.


“The boy’s fine Jethro.” Gibbs had his eyes fixated on Tony, never before had he seen the Senior field agent hurl at the sight of a body, even at his most grievous moments.


“Have a look at him when you get the chance Duck, kid’s stubborn as an ass.” Tony, hated the doctors, he even hated the dentist. If Gibbs wasn’t there to watch his six, then the boy would have keeled over years ago.


“And I wonder where he’s learned such behavior.” the M.E. deducted cheerfully.


Gibbs grinned knowingly, “Do we have a cause of death?”.


“It’s hard to say, with this level of decomposition, anything is possible. I’ll have to take the body back to autopsy and run a tox screen and blood analysis.” At the scene, it was impossible to distinguish the perimortem from the post-mortem injuries, especially since the body had been so heavily gnawed on by wildlife.


“Alright, you and Palmer take the body and we’ll finish up here.” Ducky and Palmer hoisted the body into a body bag and onto the gurney. They pulled the victim away from the scene and into the M.E. van.


“Are you okay Tony?” Ziva approached Tony delicately, the usually cold Isreali couldn’t help but show a side of sympathy for Tony’s suffering, as well as partially feeling guilty - having never before given much consideration to the recklessness of her driving.


“Peachy.” Tony was no longer hunched over, instead, he sat slumped at the foot of a tree. His NCIS cap covering his face, feeling embarrassed and exhausted.


“Tony, you should really visit your practitioner. It is obvious that you are not at full health and haven’t been so for quite some time.” Tony rolled his eyes, it seemed Ziva cared more for his health than he did. Despite the relentless chorus of ‘I'm fine’, Ziva wasn't letting things go.


“I’m fine Ziva” he repeated effortlessly, “if I thought it was worth going to a doctor, I would.” She sighed with frustration at his reply.


“We both know that is a lie,” Tony got up from the ground and dusted away the broken pieces of leaf that had gotten stuck to his bottom. These were Gucci pants after all.


“That's rich coming from the Mossad assassin who canceled four dentist appointments last month.” He shot back.


She stammered over a response, “What? I do not like the dentist!” That being her only weakness, “Perhaps it is wise to ask Gibbs for the rest of the day off?” Tony scoffed, Gibbs would never send him home, even if he'd been shot, the grey-haired man would drag him by the collar back to the office.


“I’ll be fine when I get back, maybe a nap on Abby’s futon will do the trick.” Despite collapsing into bed last night at 10, he couldn't shake this fatigue that had plagued him for two weeks now.


“If you pass out in the cow pen, I shall be the first to say; ‘I told you so', ” Ziva warned, her index finger poking him in the chest.


“It's bullpen...” Tony laughed mockingly.




“Do you two need a moment?” Gibbs interjected. Both agents jumped with shock, “now, we've got a murder to solve.”


“Yes, sir.” Ziva doubled back to the van.


“You okay DiNozzo?” Gibbs stopped Tony from following Ziva's lead, with one hand pushing him back, “What's going on?” He prodded once more.


“Just food poisoning Boss, nothing to it.” He answered with a forced smile, truth be told, he felt another bout of nausea brewing, his stomach flipping, and his mouth watering. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping it would subside.


“Yeah, well, when we get back you go see Ducky.” He ordered sternly.


“Got it, Boss.” There it was again, this time before he could even cover his mouth. Luckily enough he had time to swing his body around, barely avoiding Gibbs' boots. All hell would have broken loose had his reaction been a second slower.


“It's alright DiNozzo.” Gibbs patted Tony on the back as he continued to vomit. Gibbs' brute strength felt more like abuse rather than compassion as each ‘pat’ landed more like a slap, “I'll have McGee” Gibbs handed Tony his handkerchief.


“Thanks, Boss.” Tony felt like death, but dying at the hands of Ziva was not a solution to his problems.


“We good to go? The last thing we want is the van smelling of a hocked up breakfast burrito.” Tony knew, in that likely event, he would be cleaning up after himself - on all fours with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge.


“I'm good.” He reassured himself. In all truthfulness he wasn't, his body began to shake, and he was building up a cold sweat. He unzipped his jacket and fanned himself with his notepad, whilst the two walked back to the van.


“McGee, you're driving.”


“But why? I am clearly the better driver.” Ziva objected.


“We need DiNozzo back in one piece. You'll thank me later.” Ziva and McGee couldn't agree on anything more. Gibbs’ executive decision would save them both arriving back at base dirtier than when they left had the crime scene.


McGee drove back to base, traveling at an average of twenty miles per hour, despite Ziva’s constant nagging that; 'If we are going to get there before midnight, you should drive faster!’ Of course, McGee didn't listen. McGee was used to the abuse, he knew he drove like an old lady but that's how he usually drove - slow and cautiously. Tony couldn't have been more grateful.


Back in the squad room, everybody offloaded their belongings and began to reacquaint themselves with the warmth.


“DiNozzo, give McGee the pictures and go down to Abby, see if she needs help with cataloging evidence.” Tony was relieved, Gibbs had heard his prayers and sent him to Abby to ‘help out', which was his way of giving Tony permission to take a long nap downstairs, “go and see Ducky on your way down.” Drat! Tony internally screamed. Being poked and prodded by the medical examiner wasn't half as bad as his relentless stories.


“It's just food poisoning, Boss. Should be gone in a couple of days.” He pleaded.


“That was an order DiNozzo.” Tony bowed his head in anguish. Looks like he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Without any more fuss, he trudged over to the elevator and pressed the corresponding button.


It wasn't exactly like he could lie to Gibbs and bravely face an early grave; the man knew everything. Dodging the M.E. would only cause more trouble than it's worth, “Hey Ducky.” He greeted the older man with a sigh.


“Tony, dear boy. Come in, come in.” Tony approached apprehensively, the smell of rotting corpse still lingered around the room. As if it wasn't quite enough the first time around, the smell made him positively sick to his stomach, “Ah yes, the smell. It's been quite some time since we've had a body as ripe. Shouldn't be a moment before the extractor kicks in.”


“Gibbs sent me to see you, he thinks you're able to help.” Tony had no doubt in the M.E.’s healing capabilities, yet he had faith that his nausea would subside and sure enough be gone in the morning; making this visit unnecessary.


“I take it that this is in relation to your little vomiting spell this morning?” Ducky pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box on his desk and fit them on his hands with a snap as the rim clasped his skin. The sound made Tony wince, becoming wary of what may be to come.


“I've already explained, it's something I've eaten. So, I don't know why he's still on my case.” He replied erratically, “I'm fine.” He tried, reassuring the M.E.


“He cares for you Tony; a great deal more than you may think. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a quick look at you.” Ducky patted to a clean slate for Tony to take a seat. He cringed in disgust, considering what that cold bed had just been used for. “It is perfectly clean, no need to worry.” Even still, Tony couldn't help but feel sorry for his Gucci suit.


“This isn't necessary Ducky, trust me.” He tried his luck one last time.


“Humor me, if it is only food poisoning, I'll be able to give you some medication to clear up that nasty bug.” The prospect did sound promising, rather than naturally waiting for the motion to pass. He did not want a repeat of today, tomorrow.


“Alright, since you asked nicely.” He replied cheekily.


“Start off by telling me when this all started.” Tony paused, thinking really hard about when he really stopped feeling like himself, all those weeks he’d reduced his heartburn to stress and his weariness to a lack of sleep.


“The vomiting? This morning. But for a while now I've just been exhausted. Figured I was working too much, going home late... those sorts of things.” He had made recent improvements to his daily routine and now he was getting more sleep than ever before – at least 8 hours a night, sometimes more – when he could.


“Have you made any attempts at a better diet? Abby tells me you’re still living off of pizza and Chinese food.” Ducky had warned him previously about the impacts of a fast-food diet, including the diagnoses of high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and diabetes. Despite his constant warnings, Tony could never part with pizza.


“I don’t have time to eat anything proper Ducky, I’m here every night. I don’t even have food in my fridge.” He hadn’t listened to Ducky’s advise and admittedly, it had come back to nip him in the ass. Afterall, it was dodgy Chinese and poor eating habits that he predicted to have given him food poisoning.


“From the looks of things, it is entirely possible that the lethargy and the nausea are related.” Already, he could think of a number of different condition’s that somebody like Tony would easily contract.


“I passed my last physical 8 weeks ago Ducky, I’m as fit as a fiddle.” Something Tony frequently boasted about, referring to his body as a ‘machine’ every chance he had. Not that anybody cared.


“That may have been the case 8 weeks ago, dear boy, tell me; has anything happened recently? Have you been in any accidents, gotten ill or had any unprotected sexual intercourse?” What seemed like routine questions prompted quite the reaction from Tony as he blushed bashfully.


“Sex? Ducky, what’s this got to do with sex?” Red-faced and embarrassed to be talking about sex with a man of similar age to his own father. Tony wished for a distraction.


“A great deal, unprotected sex not only prevents unwanted pregnancies but STDs.” Tony’s stomach sunk, despite his promiscuous nature, he had always been careful. He always kept a condom in the purse of his wallet and even in his most drunken of hookups he made sure to wrap up. Illegitimate children with Saturday night flings and the clap were equally as terrifying.


“I’ve never had sex without a -” He paused, a drunken flashback rippled through his mind, a dirty toilet, a hot mess and no rubber. His eyes exploded, and mouth draped open wide, “Nonononono.” Tony muttered.


“Ah, what has our Anthony gotten himself into?” Ducky chuckled heartily.


“It was once! One time.” He cried out in defense, not that Ducky was judging him.


“Have you been tested recently?”


“What for?” Ducky shook his head disappointingly, ‘the youth of today’ he thought, whilst reminiscing of a mythical ‘golden era’ of sexual responsibility.


“Everything? This city is a cesspool of transmittable diseases. That is, of course, the more serious diseases like HIV and Hepatitis A are easily contractible if you are having unprotected - well, you get the picture.” Ducky concluded awkwardly.


“Damn it! Trust the DiNozzo family luck, it was the first and only time! Now you’re scaring me with the possibility of HIV!” One night, one slip. It hardly seemed fair that he'd be punished in such a way for one mistake. From the first time he lost his virginity at age 17, he'd always followed sexual etiquette.


“There is another explanation Tony, one that is perhaps far less petrifying,” Ducky went rooting through his filing cabinet, “I don’t suppose you remember the results of your gene test?” He asked, still digging through the mixture of garbage and important files. He had let things get out of hand as of late and the thought of organizing the drawers was offputting, to say the least.


“Gene test?” He raised an inquisitive brow.


“You must have taken one? I thought every male child was administered a gene test.” At least he knew they were to this current day.


“Can't say that I have Duck.” Tony knew he definitely would have remembered getting a gene test for something that appeared to be really important. Not that he would probably recall having any tests done as an infant.


“You must have had one before joining NCIS,” Ducky found Tony’s medical files, as miraculous as it was, “See, in 2001 you took a gene test as part of our mandatory background checks.”


“All those tests, who knew what they were all for.” He had never bothered to come back for his full report. Once he found out he was clear for duty he wasn't interested in the rest. He already knew that his body was fully functioning and healthy.


“One was a genome test for the XM gene.” Ducky began...


“What’s that?” Tony interrupted.


“It’s the male carrier gene, it only occurs in every 10,000,000 males. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it. Our very own Mr. Palmer is a carrier.” Indifferent to the information, Tony still seemed relatively clueless.


“How do I not know about this? Shouldn’t somebody’ve told me? Like; ‘hey, just a quick word, you’re able to have babies in a natural Arnie sorta way!” He quoted the Arnold Schwarzenegger film, Junior. As a movie buff, there was very little that creeped him out, but that film reached a special level of weird. Weird by even Tony's standards.


“I suppose you were born a few years shy of the routine hospital inspections. No matter, my records do show that you do indeed carry the gene. Before you panic, these are only speculations.” Tony felt faint, he knew he should have trusted his instincts and lied about seeing the ME. This trip was supposed to make him feel better, instead, it did just the opposite. The stress of the situation began to give him stomach cramps.


“Never in the history of panicking has anybody ever calmed down from somebody telling them not to panic!” Tony replied, in hysterics.


“I will run some tests and come back to you with an answer. The chances are, you’re probably coming down with something following a change in season.” A sudden shift in pace after telling Tony that his whole life was about to change, why the older man hadn't led with this theory, was beyond him.


“You’re right. All of this hoha for nothing.” Tony laughed, now quite rightfully petrified. It would take more than a bullet to the head to forget the ordeal.


“I shall take some blood and urine samples if you are feeling up to it, I will even run the tests myself if it makes you feel better.” Tony would trust Ducky with his life, he was a master at discrete. Ducky wouldn't even rat him out to Gibbs, the perks of doctor-patient confidentiality. Although, he did foresee trouble arousing when it came down to hiding the truth from Abby since Ducky would be using her equipment.


“Not a word of this to anybody, the last thing I need is McGeek or Ziva finding out about this carrier gene crap.” He'd never live it down, to be in the same league as Palmer, a carrier of a bizarre anomaly that made him more of a woman than McGee, despite being incredibly more masculine and attractive – so he thought, modestly.


“Oh, don't worry, you have my word.” Ducky reached inside of his equipment cabinet and pulled out a fresh blood sample kit. “Have you eaten today Tony?”


“Yes and no. The breakfast burrito didn't stay long enough to be digested.” Nostalgically, he could remember the burrito on its way out this morning, it made him shiver with repulsion.


“Just tell me if your head starts to spin.” Ducky tied the tourniquet around the bicep of Tony’s arm and waited until a vein became prominent against the surface of his skin. Ducky took the cap off of the needle and drew closer, “this may scratch.” Ducky warned before puncturing into Tony's vein.


“God!” Tony screamed. He was a wuss when it came down to injections or needles, he couldn't help it. The sight of his own blood pooling at the injection site made him nauseous and brought in cold sweats quite rapidly.


“It's all done.” Ducky slowly removed the needle and pulled the capsule of blood from the vacuum. He used a clean piece of cotton wool to blot the skin. “Your arm might ache for a while as you well know.” Ducky labeled the vial of blood and placed it in a tray. Seeing the collection of blood lying on the side was disturbing, Tony winced knowing that it came from his own body.


“Anything else?” Now ever more itching to escape to Abby's lab.


“You'll need to fill this up too.” Ducky handed Tony a small lidded beaker, Tony took it without question, quite bashful about what he had to use it for. Without protest, he complied with Ducky’s tests and dipped off to the bathroom to fill his sample. Caught with a bit of a shy bladder, Tony spent far too long in the lavatory, so long it was awkward to simply walk out.


He zipped his fly and straightened out his suit, he made all attempts at nonchalant, trying to avoid the fact he was indeed handing Ducky over a tub of his own urine, “Thanks, Ducky.”


“You're very welcome,” He placed both the blood and urine sample in the fridge for safekeeping, “once Abby is finished with our samples from the John Doe, I'll get right to analyzing your contribution. I'd imagine you'll have some conclusive results by the end of the night.”


“You know where to find me if you need any more of my bodily fluids.” Tony tipped his head, bidding Ducky a farewell.



“Tony!” Abby rushed to give the agent one of her giant teddy bear hugs, “my poor baby!” She squeezed him even tighter. “Consider me your personal Doctor, I'll take good care of you until you're better.”


“What I really need is a nap, Abs.” Today had been a long race of hurdles. Taking comfort in the sanctity of sleep felt like the best idea. At least if he was asleep he didn't have to think about test results or actual work.


“Oh, of course, you take Bert. I've already set out the futon in my office.” When he thought he couldn't love Abby any more than humanly possible, she pushes the boundaries and he loves her twice as much. A large section of his heart was reserved for the forensic investigator, a much greater piece in relation to anybody else's segments.


“You're a star.” He kissed her on the temple, something he rarely did. Yet today it felt warranted as his emotions ran high which made him extremely fragile.


“You can thank me later, in the form of presents. Lots of presents.” She laughed maniacally. Tony collapsed onto the futon, it wasn't as comfortable as he remembered it to be. Perhaps it needed replacing or he was getting too old to sleep on the floor. He wasn't complaining. This beats all other alternatives, he'd tried sleeping underneath his desk on many occasions and wouldn't wish that kind of discomfort on even his worst enemy.


It wasn't long before Tony drifted off, sleeping so deeply that he became oblivious to Bert's occasional toots when he tossed under the cover. Abby watched Tony sleep as she waited for the results from Major MasSpec, even though Tony snored, he looked so peaceful. Abby let Tony sleep for a solid two hours before hurrying to abruptly wake him up knowing Gibbs was on his way down for a progress report. Tony shot up, suspecting Gibbs would be pissed seeing him sleeping on the job.


Throughout the day Tony managed to get about 6 hours worth of interrupted sleep, down in Abby's lab. This time, for the final time, being woken up by Gibbs himself whilst Abby was in the head. His ass was hog-tied to the car with the rest of the squad to apprehend a suspect. Grateful for the fact he no longer felt nauseous, he was practically back to his usual self. He scoffed at Duck's poor prognosis, claiming to be better already. Gibbs wouldn't hear the end of Tony's complaints, a tell-tale sign Tony DiNozzo was Tony DiNozzo again.


Having left to trap the suspect so abruptly, the gang returned to the office to collect their belongings, in good spirits Gibbs let his team go home, knowing that they had enough evidence to detain the murderer overnight.


“Ah, I'm glad I caught you before you left the building Tony.” Ducky stepped out of the elevator and enthusiastically hurried into the squad room. Tony was disturbed by how joyful Ducky looked.


“Everything okay Ducky?” Gibbs pondered.


“Absolutely. I just have a few things to discuss with Tony here.” Gibbs still appeared skeptical of the pair but trusted Ducky none the less.


“Go ahead. I'll see you two tomorrow morning.” Gibbs grabbed his coat and keys from the drawer and headed to the elevator with McGee and Ziva.


“Night Boss.” Tony called back just as the elevator doors shut, “so what's up?” He whispered, unsure of prying ears.


“Fantastic news of course, well I suppose you and I might have different definitions of the word fantastic.” The news was bubbling up inside him, quite simply ecstatic by his findings. Although, he wasn't exactly sure how to share the news or just what Tony's reaction may be.


“It's safe to assume that I don't have AIDs or any other STD?” Judging from Ducky's bubbly demeanor, the news could only be positive. It would be highly inappropriate should he be acting or genuinely happy about AIDs.


“Heaven's no! Let's discuss this back at autopsy.” With other agents still lurking around at this ungodly hour, Ducky stressed the need to discuss things further in the safety of autopsy, where any words said would be falling on dead ears. Tony groaned with frustration the entire journey down.


“You're killing me, Ducky, what's so important that you couldn't tell me upstairs.” Anticipation and anxiety threatening to stop his heart at any second.


“You may want to sit down.” Tony frowned, now more worried than filled with anticipation. Without thought, he sat straight down on the autopsy table, “now, I've triple checked my results, and I'll have you know that I am rarely wrong.” Ducky commented self-effacingly.


“Ducky just lay it on me. I can handle it.” Tony sat literally on-edge.


“I suppose we shall see about that.” Ducky took a deep breath, he hadn't had to deliver this speech since his youthful days as Dr. Mallard, Surgeon, “Anthony DiNozzo, you're going to have a baby.” The words went in one ear and out of the other, Tony sat motionless on the steel slate, “dare I say, congratulations?”


“A baby, huh?” Tony stuttered, utterly flabbergasted.


“Indeed. The high levels of HCG in your urine and the hormones in your blood all seem to confirm the fact.” Any doctor would come to the same conclusion, it was almost undeniable, Tony was pregnant.


“And that's the only possible outcome? Maybe there was something wrong with the sample?” He reached. It was only a couple of hours ago that he found out he was a carrier of this freak gene and now he was sitting here, being told he was pregnant. Before today he didn't even know that it was possible, let alone even consider the probability that he'd been knocked up.


“These tests are usually accurate within the 99% percentile. I had given that some thought already, but the elevated levels are far beyond anything dismissable as an anomaly.” Ducky sensed the disbelief in the room, and also picked up on Tony's abrasive reaction, from his understanding, the news was far from anything Tony wanted to hear.


“I don't like kids Ducky, I don't want any kids. I can barely commit to a pair of shoes!” Children were not written anywhere on the DiNozzo life plan, he hated children and the feeling was often mutual.


“You will have the same options as anybody else.” Ducky understood that changing family values meant fewer people wanted children and that children were an economic burden. He was quite liberal for a man of his age. Yet, it would break his heart if he didn't get to see a miniature Tony running a mess before leaving for the next world. Although he had assumed it'd be with Kate before she died, and now he had hopes for Ziva and Tony to get together.


“No, no. I can't do that...” Tony exclaimed, yet he sounded far from sure with himself. His morals told him that it would be wrong to even consider a termination, but he wasn't actually happy about his situation.


“Should you decide to, I will inform you that it will require an invasive surgical procedure.” As if the thought of termination wasn't troubling him enough, his only option out is through surgery. It seems his conscience was steering him in the right direction.


“I'll need some time to think...”


“And what of the father?” It was almost like Tony had forgotten that It took two to make a baby, with no way to contact the guy he slept with, he figured he'd pretty much do this on his own. Not that he didn't want some random bar hook-up fathering his children, he would try and get a hold of - Tony paused, trying to recall a name; Kevin, Jake...Chris!


“All I have is the first name.” Tony awoke the morning following conception with a phone number sloppily drawn onto his right hand, that had smudged away during the night. Had the number been clearer, Tony would have attempted to call back.


“A first name, is that all?” Ducky laughed, “you sure know how to pick ‘em.” For the first time today, Tony smiled sincerely.


“What now Ducky? Do I see a doctor, do I inform the Director?” Tony began to imagine the ultimate hassle this was going to be, trying to keep secrets and entrusting others to keep his things hidden on his behalf, was unnerving. Not that he wanted to tell anybody about this if it was entirely possible to hide he would.


“I may have a contact to call upon, a doctor friend who owes me a favor. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to help. The first thing I would suggest is giving her a call and scheduling an appointment for an ultrasound.” Whilst he was quite sure his results were conclusive, it wouldn’t hurt having a second professional opinion and solidifying the diagnosis with an ultrasound, giving a proper picture of the problem.


“Appreciated Duck.” His tone sullen.


“I assume that you want to keep this between the two of us for the time being?” Given how shocked Tony was and how proud he was as a man, he guessed it would take Tony some time to get to grips with being pregnant. The last thing he needed was to be outed to the squad when he wasn't ready.


“It won't be for long. I don't want anybody to know until I've made up my mind.” Whilst an abortion seemed too distressing, he could always opt for adoption. Should Abby or his father find out, the two would no doubt pressure him into making a decision, perhaps one he didn't want to make.


“It's best sooner rather than later.” Should he wish to terminate the pregnancy, the sooner he chose to, the more humane it would be. Not only that but before long it would be hard to conceal. Waiting until people guessed his business would make for a lot of angry friends.


“I'll have to tell Gibbs...” Tony sighed loudly. As if he didn't have enough problems to worry about, telling Gibbs topped the list. It would be impossible for Gibbs to look at him the same or treat him as he does now. Tony would hate being tip-toed around or put on desk duty. Gibbs’ overprotective nature would make coming to work unbearable.


“I wouldn't be surprised if you wouldn't have to.” The man knew everything, even if what he knew were intuitive leaps. Gibbs was already skeptical and Ducky's behavior in the squad room probably already confirmed any speculations he had. "Jethro is the last of your worries, dear boy. I'll be there for you, should you need me. Now go home and rest, you've had quite the day." That he had, that he had. Tony couldn't think of anything other than getting home and taking a hot shower to wash away the stench of the day.