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eliyesTitle: RSVP
Rating: Gee, Boss --
Author's note: This was mostly an exercise in trying to describe Tony in motion. Bikkies if you guess who he's talking to. ;3
When Tony's phone rang, he looked at the screen, grinned, and answered with a low, "sexy" hello.
"What?" he asked a second later, still smiling. Then his jaw fell open and he spun his chair in a circle.
"That's great! Congratulations! It's Greg, right?" Pause.
"Well, I could have misremembered. So, is this just an engagement thing or --" He stopped to listen intently, lips forming a "w" that never came out.
"Really." He laughed again. "Is there a reason for this short timetable?" Pause. "Well, for example, did you get Greg pregnant?"
He listened, and laughed, and listened some more, twirling a pen around his thumb.
"Point. So, when's the big day?" He leaned forward to get at his computer, and the calender therein. "Lemme check... Nope, nothing planned. I'm all yours --" He typed. "-- unless work interferes. Speaking of, do you have a rain date? Uh-huh."
He smiled into space. "Well, I can reschedule a visit to the dentist if it comes to that."
He sat back in his chair. "So, please tell me you're keeping your name." Pause.
"His last name is Livington, right? So your name would rhyme."
The feminine 'oh my God' from Tony's phone was audible all the way to McGee's desk.
"Plus," Tony pointed out, "yours is such a great way to bring up British comedy." After a second he laughed again.
"No, I guess not. So, do you kids have a registry or anything?" He listened, then nodded. "Yeah, you are. Could do donations -- or, hey, what are you wearing?" He rolled to his feet and turned towards the file cabinets behind his desk.
"To your wedding, obviously," he scoffed. "I was thinking I could buy you shoes." He pulled a folder out of the top drawer and flopped it onto his desk, then sat down again, leaning back and stretching out his legs, one heel on his desk, ankles crossed.
"I am sure we've had this conversation before," he sighed. "Never underestimate the importance of good shoes."
He began gesturing with his free hand. "Because not only do they need to look good, you're gonna be standing in them through the whole ceremony." Pause.
"C'mon, they can be your 'something new'," he coaxed, obviously sensing victory in his grasp. "What are you wearing? Dress or suit?"
He sat and started clicking away on his mouse.
"Really?" he demanded suddenly, wrinkling his nose. "Nothing, no, it sounds pretty, but -- ivory?"
His printer beeped and he sat back. "I just think, with your skin tone and hair colour -- unless you've changed your --?"
He rubbed the back of his head. "Is it vintage? Is your heart set on it?"
He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful and swiveling his chair slowly from side to side.
"Pale frosted pink," he said decisively, "or blue-white. Strapless, beaded top and then beaded skirt hem, ribbon-tied in the back for a corset-look." Pause.
"Uh-huh," he said, making a terrible face at McGee, who he'd caught looking at him. He began balling up a piece of paper, sticking the phone against his shoulder.
"Indoor or outdoor?" He threw the paper and hit McGee's arm. Making a fistpump of victory, he said, "then open-toed would be okay."
"I am serious." He retrieved the freshly-printed page from the tray and put it in the folder, then quickly raised it to deflect McGee's retaliatory fire. "We'll do lunch and shoe shop. I mean it." Pause.
"'Ey, 'ey, this is my gift to you," he said with an exaggerated Italian accent.
"So, can I bring a date?" He stood and nailed McGee's empty coffee mug with the paper ball, then mouthed, 'don't mess with the master' in response to his teammate's irritated look.
"Hmm, good point. On the one hand, I'd have to navigate the tricky dating waters of how serious a wedding date is, but on the other, you'd have to deal with me, single, loose among your girlfriends, relatives, and in-laws."
A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought you'd see it my way."
Then: "Ha! No. You have to send that invitation yourself," he said firmly. "Since when are you chicken?" Pause.
"Yeah. Okay. Bye."
He clapped his phone shut and gave McGee a weird look, mostly because McGee was giving him one.
"What?"
"Tell me you've got something on MacAllistair," Gibbs said, striding into the bullpen, coffee in hand.
Tony immediately snapped open his folder and started rattling off information.
Just another day at the office.
.
Rating: Gee, Boss --
Author's note: This was mostly an exercise in trying to describe Tony in motion. Bikkies if you guess who he's talking to. ;3
When Tony's phone rang, he looked at the screen, grinned, and answered with a low, "sexy" hello.
"What?" he asked a second later, still smiling. Then his jaw fell open and he spun his chair in a circle.
"That's great! Congratulations! It's Greg, right?" Pause.
"Well, I could have misremembered. So, is this just an engagement thing or --" He stopped to listen intently, lips forming a "w" that never came out.
"Really." He laughed again. "Is there a reason for this short timetable?" Pause. "Well, for example, did you get Greg pregnant?"
He listened, and laughed, and listened some more, twirling a pen around his thumb.
"Point. So, when's the big day?" He leaned forward to get at his computer, and the calender therein. "Lemme check... Nope, nothing planned. I'm all yours --" He typed. "-- unless work interferes. Speaking of, do you have a rain date? Uh-huh."
He smiled into space. "Well, I can reschedule a visit to the dentist if it comes to that."
He sat back in his chair. "So, please tell me you're keeping your name." Pause.
"His last name is Livington, right? So your name would rhyme."
The feminine 'oh my God' from Tony's phone was audible all the way to McGee's desk.
"Plus," Tony pointed out, "yours is such a great way to bring up British comedy." After a second he laughed again.
"No, I guess not. So, do you kids have a registry or anything?" He listened, then nodded. "Yeah, you are. Could do donations -- or, hey, what are you wearing?" He rolled to his feet and turned towards the file cabinets behind his desk.
"To your wedding, obviously," he scoffed. "I was thinking I could buy you shoes." He pulled a folder out of the top drawer and flopped it onto his desk, then sat down again, leaning back and stretching out his legs, one heel on his desk, ankles crossed.
"I am sure we've had this conversation before," he sighed. "Never underestimate the importance of good shoes."
He began gesturing with his free hand. "Because not only do they need to look good, you're gonna be standing in them through the whole ceremony." Pause.
"C'mon, they can be your 'something new'," he coaxed, obviously sensing victory in his grasp. "What are you wearing? Dress or suit?"
He sat and started clicking away on his mouse.
"Really?" he demanded suddenly, wrinkling his nose. "Nothing, no, it sounds pretty, but -- ivory?"
His printer beeped and he sat back. "I just think, with your skin tone and hair colour -- unless you've changed your --?"
He rubbed the back of his head. "Is it vintage? Is your heart set on it?"
He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful and swiveling his chair slowly from side to side.
"Pale frosted pink," he said decisively, "or blue-white. Strapless, beaded top and then beaded skirt hem, ribbon-tied in the back for a corset-look." Pause.
"Uh-huh," he said, making a terrible face at McGee, who he'd caught looking at him. He began balling up a piece of paper, sticking the phone against his shoulder.
"Indoor or outdoor?" He threw the paper and hit McGee's arm. Making a fistpump of victory, he said, "then open-toed would be okay."
"I am serious." He retrieved the freshly-printed page from the tray and put it in the folder, then quickly raised it to deflect McGee's retaliatory fire. "We'll do lunch and shoe shop. I mean it." Pause.
"'Ey, 'ey, this is my gift to you," he said with an exaggerated Italian accent.
"So, can I bring a date?" He stood and nailed McGee's empty coffee mug with the paper ball, then mouthed, 'don't mess with the master' in response to his teammate's irritated look.
"Hmm, good point. On the one hand, I'd have to navigate the tricky dating waters of how serious a wedding date is, but on the other, you'd have to deal with me, single, loose among your girlfriends, relatives, and in-laws."
A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought you'd see it my way."
Then: "Ha! No. You have to send that invitation yourself," he said firmly. "Since when are you chicken?" Pause.
"Yeah. Okay. Bye."
He clapped his phone shut and gave McGee a weird look, mostly because McGee was giving him one.
"What?"
"Tell me you've got something on MacAllistair," Gibbs said, striding into the bullpen, coffee in hand.
Tony immediately snapped open his folder and started rattling off information.
Just another day at the office.
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-24 09:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-24 09:41 am (UTC)