TITLE: The Tattoo in Question
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG-13
POSTED: 2004 SUMMARY: World...capsizing...Tony...confused....
NOTES: Silly, never going anywhere, Celli's fault, but Kerlin didn't help.
DISCLAIMER: Read

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Tony was a gentleman when it counted. He could be sweet and charming, a real prince, when it would get him points with the boss (the one signing his paycheck or the big guy), when it would get him laid (because, after all, wasn't that what "gentle" behavior had been thought up for?), or when it was the right thing to do (mothers, of any age, were top of the list in this category).

The thing was, he had figured McGee for one of those guys who just was a gentleman.

"Do I want to what?"

"Do you want to see the tattoo on the inside of Abby's thigh?"

"Um..." Tony squinted at the other man, got nothing back but an innocent expression that McGee shouldn't have been able to pull off following that question. He could feel the smile forming -- the tight-lipped smile that plainly said, "yeah, uh-huh, and if you'll just stay riiight there, I'll be heading that way, thanks" -- and fought it back by frowning, real hard.

"Y'know, McGee, that's the sort of offer that really should come from the lady in possession of said tattoo." The last word finally sank in. "Singular?"

McGee started to speak, but Tony held up a hand and waved it in a way that, please god, didn't look as frantic as it felt.

"No, no-no, don't answer. Wouldn't want you to perjure yourself."

McGee's knowing look grated, enormously. They were at work, in an office. A government office. Where'd the "sirs" go? More importantly, where'd that little smirk come from? And what was the man jabbering about now, while Tony was trying to keep the universe from capsizing thanks to this sudden change in direction?

"...and you've brought it up so often that I brought you a picture," McGee said, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. "See?"

"You--" Tony snatched the paper away and glanced down at it. A cat? She had a cat with a...oh. "This is," he cleared his throat, then carefully looked up at McGee and away from the sketch, "this is accurate?"

"Well, it's as close as I could make it. I didn't exactly pay MIT all that money for art courses, but drafting isn't too far afield." McGee reached out and turned the sketch in Tony's loose grip just enough so he could raise an appraising eyebrow. "Not bad, in my biased opinion."

"Right." The floor still wanted to tip out from under him, so Tony dropped down onto the nearest desk. "Uh, thanks."

"Not a problem," McGee said with a disturbingly smug smile. Then he looked over Tony's shoulder and his "official" expression slid into place. "Hello, Agent Todd. Good to see you again."

"Hey, McGee." Kate stepped into Tony's line of sight (frozen, he was frozen, and he was never going to blink again) and he jumped when she poked him in the side with her notebook. "Move it, Dinozzo."

"What?"

She smirked. "You ass, my desk. They're not things that should be touching."

"Oh." Tony looked over his shoulder, noticed the tailored jacket on the chair behind him, and popped to his feet. "Sorry, just--" He had an explanation, he had an answer, he had...a picture of a cat licking something that should never be licked by any member of the animal kingdom except those of the homo sapien variety.

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