Work Text:
Spoilers for Enemy on the Hill
Tony reached for another slice of pizza and glanced over at the stack of DVDs on his coffee table. Abby had chosen the flicks tonight, their normal weekly movie night. And these had a theme.
Father of the Bride—the Steve Martin version—and the sequel. World’s Greatest Dad, staring Robin Williams, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, and Big Fish. Tony sighed, nudging the pile with his foot, no small amount of satisfaction running through him as the pile fell over and the DVD cases scattered. At least Abbs had gone out to get another six pack of Caf Pow and wouldn’t see what he’d done. He felt kind of like a jerk for knocking over the DVDs, but he couldn’t help his feelings and discomfort of it all.
Tony munched on his piece of pizza and sipped his Coke, trying to avoid the large envelope on the coffee table, near the “energizing fountain” Abby’d bought him last Christmas, and the stack of catalogues Tony’d swiped from his neighbors. The envelope was the reason for the movie night theme.
It was the reason for a lot.
Tony felt as if he was about to jump out of his skin. He stood, pacing, the slice of half-eaten pizza dangling in his hand for a few seconds. Tony jammed the rest of it in his mouth and walked around the room, trying to bleed off some of his energy. He had a feeling that things weren’t going to go so well tonight. He was already irritated and annoyed, was more keyed up than relaxed and that pissed him off, inwardly anyway.
In the wake of learning she was adopted, Abby had become a bit more subdued. Tony knew she’d spent some time at Gibbs’ place recently, and she and Ziva had gone out a couple times. They were all really worried about her. Tony knew she hadn’t talked with Luca yet, and she really needed to fill him in on it all, especially her feelings and how she was coping—or not coping as the case was.
Families were so damn complicated, especially for those working at NCIS and with Team Gibbs. Gibbs and Jackson were closer than they’d ever been, but Tony knew it was a hard situation for both men. McGee had finally made contact with his father—Tony had overheard him talking to Ziva about it last week. Ziva’s father issues were part of a few NCIS cases, and Jenny had been frantic to get answers about her father before she died. At least Ducky and Palmer had no father issues, at least not any Tony knew about.
And Abby…She had no hope of talking this through with either of her parents. Her father had died when she was in college, and Gloria had passed away a few years ago. Tony hadn’t even been there to be her shoulder throughout that; he’d been at sea after Jenny’d died.
Tony tried to avoid thinking about his own father issues. Senior was never going to change, no matter how much closer they got. And Tony’d been trying for a while now, actually answering his father’s calls, laughing jovially when his father started mentioning the rich people he was rubbing shoulders with. Or scamming. Tony felt himself wince at that. It was a wound that kept rubbing itself raw.
After a lot of research, he’d realized that his father wasn’t scamming these people—not precisely. Senior had crafted an elaborate cover story and drifted from business opportunity to business opportunity, never actually putting up funds, using his personality and way with people as collateral. It was valuable at times; his father had a winning way with people. Senior had hit a string of winning businesses in the last nine months, and in that envelope…well, Tony knew what it was.
A first-class ticket to Monte Carlo. Round trip. A week at a hotel. His father was paying him back without directly saying so. He knew exactly who’d given him the plane ticket, even though Tony hadn’t said anything. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, and he couldn’t see himself taking the father-son outing that Senior expected. He had no idea what to say to his father.
Tony’d organized his father’s birthday party—including several Rockettes and more than a few strippers—and had paid for it all, but he’d used work as an excuse to miss the party. The envelope had arrived several days earlier and had shaken everything up for Tony. A lot. They weren’t talkers, and he knew that his father wanted to discuss their “lifestyle” at length. Tony wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to ever, or just not now, but he didn’t want to deal with it. He just needed to find a way to weasel out of this father-son trip from hell.
“Hey, Tony,” Abby said, wrenching Tony out of his thoughts. She’d used her key to let herself inside. The cool air of the fall night rushed in with her and Tony shook his head, clearing it, the brisk chill bringing him fully back to awareness. Tony glanced at his watch, blinking several times, shocked that so much time had passed when he’d been so deep in thought.
“Hell of a long Caf Pow run, Abby. You’ve been gone almost an hour and a half.” And she’d changed. Her pleated skirt had been exchanged for flannel pajama pants with smirking skulls and crossbones on them, and she was huddled in her favorite matching hoodie. They only lived a couple of miles apart, Tony just west of Regan National Airport and Abby just south of it, so even a clothing change shouldn’t have taken more than ten or fifteen minutes, tops.
“I know! It was cold and I wanted to get my pajamas and I couldn’t find them and oh…” She gave him a devilish smirk, her eyes gleaming with merriment. “You saved me a piece! I was getting hungry, and I only had one piece and it’s cold out there, and I had to go to three places to get Caf Pow and—“
“You couldn’t bring any from home?” he interjected, pulling her close and hugging her. She was shaking and snuggled right in to his embrace, tucking her head against his throat as if she belonged there.
“All out,” she said, muffled by his shirt. Her nose brushed his Adam’s apple and he shivered too. He didn’t have the Gibbsian gut, but something told him that she’d been doing more than just a soda run and change of clothes. He just couldn’t work out what.
“Tony! You made such a mess!” Abby broke away to scoop up the DVDs, putting them in a neat pile. Then she turned, taking in his expression, which Tony figured wasn’t very welcoming.
“Abby,” He began, sighing. He ran his hand through the back of his hair and then petted it back into place before drumming his fingers on his thigh. It usually wasn’t hard to talk with Abby—they were best friends and sometimes sex partners—uncomplicated, the way they both liked it. Without suitcases of emotional baggage.
“Yeah?” she asked, her voice quiet right now. She knew he needed the silences when he got like this. When he didn’t just chatter, but actually wanted—needed—to talk. Abby and Gibbs were the only ones he could do this with. The only ones who would—in their own way—give him the time and space he needed to work out these messy things. The only ones who would never dare to judge him afterward.
“The movies.” He motioned to them, shaking his head. “Can’t we do an old-fashioned aliens take over Earth thing, like Independence Day? I could do some Will Smith. Or even Armageddon, where the world is united against something not evil. Liv Tyler was in that one, you know and—“
“Tony!” Abby silenced him with a finger over his lips. She sighed, snuggling in closer, his arms coming around her automatically. This was comfortable; she was his best friend and one of the only two people he thought would understand. And there was no way he ever wanted to hold Gibbs on his lap like this. The image of Gibbs allowing Tony to do it made Tony start chuckling and he didn’t stop until Abby dug a knuckle in to the hollow above his collarbone.
“Hey! What was that for!”
“Stop diverting. Next thing you’ll be trying to get me into bed to avoid talking.”
Tony waggled his eyebrows. “Want some candy, little girl?”
“No! Stop!” Abby’s voice had taken on a sharp, brittle tone and Tony stiffened. She slid off his lap and stood above him, looking down at him. Tony couldn’t quite read her expression, but his stomach started twisting slowly. Whatever was going on, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
Tony watched her, waiting her out, something he learned from Gibbs. When Abby didn’t say anything, Tony reached for the last piece of pizza—hers—and offered it to her. Abby looked down at the pizza, a little-girl expression on her face suddenly.
“I ordered some Chinese,” she admitted quietly, looking as serious as Tony had ever seen her.
“Why?” Tony asked, standing and looking at his front door, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “We ate.”
“Not all of us,” Abby said, tugging lightly on one pigtail. “Just…wait, Tony.” She sounded defeated suddenly, and he could only watch as she walked to his door and opened it. His stomach started twisting harder; at least it knew what—or who—was in his hallway waiting patiently.
“Dad!” Tony said, wincing inwardly as he heard the false cheeriness of his voice. Sure enough, Senior was there, standing tall and proud next to a hard-top suitcase that looked expensive. Sure enough, Dad’s fortunes were on the rise. Again.
“Junior.” At least his father’s voice was serious and more than a little wary. He gestured to the open door and then met Tony’s eyes. “Mind if I come in?”
“Sure,” Tony said, shrugging. What else could he say? “Abby?” Tony asked, letting his shock and a little of the tension he was feeling leech into his voice. “Did your Caf Pow run take you past the airport, or did he just magically appear in your car, like—“
“Junior,” his father repeated, coming inside and gently placing his suitcase and a garment bag Tony hadn’t seen in the entryway. He quickly shucked overcoat and hat, smoothing a hand through his hair, and meeting Tony’s eyes in the hall mirror. His father was dressed casually—for him anyway—in a dress shirt, V-necked sweater, dress pants, and shoes. “Abby wanted to help,” his father said, continuing to stand with his back to Tony, speaking to the reflection of Tony behind him.
“Help with what? I don’t need any help.” Tony tried to keep his voice even and his posture relaxed, but he could feel his shoulder muscles bunching, his stomach clenching, bile threatening to race up the back of his throat.
“There’s always something between us,” his father said, motioning to the mirror. He pivoted with more grace than an older man should have had, crossing the room suddenly and standing in front of Tony.
Tony found himself drawing up a little taller, realizing that he was trying to project an intimidating presence. Was that what working with Gibbs had taught him? He sighed, shaking out his limbs. It probably seemed strange to his father, but Tony didn’t much care. He rolled his shoulders, hand up to pat the back of his head again.
His father gave him a small, sad smile. “That used to drive your mother crazy, Junior.”
“What?” Tony asked, his stomach doing one backflip after another. They never talked about Mom.
“You inherited that from me,” his father replied, watching him. There was no forced joviality, no masks or veneers hiding his father from him. This was real—as real as it had been when his father brought out the fishing picture. Something had changed in his father—for the first time in many years, Tony saw the real man behind the mask.
He swallowed hard, looking over at Abby. She’d drifted toward the kitchen and was watching them with a hand up to her mouth. She was too far away from Tony to really read her expression, but he was sure he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. It was just like Abby to try to help heal other families in the wake of having her foundations shaken up. A rush of love for her came over him, and he gave her a nod of thanks.
“I…did?” Tony faltered a little, shaken to the core at the expression on his father’s face. He’d never seen his father quite so…naked. That was the only word for it. And though it scared the hell out of Tony, he reached out, pulling his father into a tight, heartfelt, and real hug.
He was vaguely aware of Abby slipping into the kitchen. She wouldn’t leave him alone with this, but she’d be nearby if he needed to lean on her. She was a hell of a friend, and he owed her a lot. He stepped back, looking at his father, and flashed Abby the “I love you” sign, something she and Gibbs had taught him years ago.
“Tell me about it,” Tony said, his voice soft and quiet.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glimpse of Abby’s smile, and with that comfort, Tony sank onto his couch, patting the cushion beside him. This would be hard, but he wasn’t dealing with it alone. And with someone like Abby by his side, he could build a relationship with his father again.