Archive of Our Own

Contrary to what most - even his team! - believed, Gibbs did not actually enjoy calling in his team on a night they were scheduled to be off. Mostly this was due to the fact that his team's presence being required meant some unfortunate schmuck of a seaman had gone and gotten himself killed.

So when some unfortunate schmuck of a Marine-in-training got himself killed the Saturday before Halloween, Gibbs sighed and made the requisite phone calls.

McGee answered on the second ring, then confirmed that he would be there in about a half hour. Ziva had much the same response. Palmer and Ducky were already in the Navy Yard for another case, and Abby had come in a few moments ago, having forgotten something of dire importance.

Which just left DiNozzo. The first time Gibbs had called, it had rang seemingly endlessly before going to voicemail. The second time, it went directly to voice. The third time, DiNozzo finally picked up, but his voice sounded strange and there was a lot of noise in the background. "Hey, boss."

"DiNozzo? Where the hell are you?"

"Uh, at a movie. Did another sailor die?"

Gibbs resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise. "Yes. You need to come in."

"Okay, I'll just swing by my place and--"

"No, your civvies will be fine. McGee and Ziva are already on their way. Just get here." Gibbs hung up without checking to see if Tony had heard him loud and clear.

Given his team, he was sure Tony had.

&&&

Ziva and McGee were already at work when Tony arrived at the scene.

Well. More like snuck in. He wore his rarely-used trench coat ("I look like a pedo when I wear that thing," he had said. McGee had disagreed and said he looked like a flasher, really. Tony had retorted that flashers got put into the sex offender database all the same.) and sulked, a hood drawn over his head from another jacket layered beneath. It was like he was trying to not be noticed.

How perfectly bizarre, McGee thought.

"Hey, boss," Tony muttered when he was near Gibbs. The latter looked up and apparently saw why Tony had his face covered.

"What the hell, DiNozzo. You can't be at a crime scene like that."

"Well, I would have gone home to change if I could have. Hell, I have a spare set in the office!" Tony's words were heated, but his face was in shadow.

"Find a pair of coveralls, then. And wash that off, you'll scare the witnesses."

McGee's eyebrows furrowed. He exchanged a look with Ziva. Neither of them understood what was happening, apparently.

"Actually, Jethro, we didn't bring any coveralls this time. We, ah, didn't think there would be any need." Ducky gave Tony's appearance a once-over and comprehended the situation immediately. "I take it your ensemble is appropriately elaborate for the event then, Antony?"

Tony nodded, mouth a grim line. "I swear, only us and the FBI get called in at midnight."

Ducky nodded sympathetically. "Yes, it does seem that way." He turned to Palmer and grinned. "Mr. Palmer, did I ever tell you about the time I had to take on the role of Lady Macbeth for a class play? My mother did my makeup and reworked an old dress into my costume. She was very talented with such things."

Palmer laughed with good humor. "The pre-med fraternity did a date auction to raise funds for a Global Brigades trip, with the added twist that we all had to be dressed in drag for the date itself. Some of us came away prettier - or handsomer - than others, and more than a couple of grudges were formed that night."

The two continue to chat amicably while McGee's brain whirred.

Ducky spoke of dressing up as a woman.

Palmer spoke of dressing like a woman.

Gibbs had been astonished.

Tony was not trying to draw attention to himself.

The gears turned, the pieces swirled and tumbled and rearranged themselves in his mind until they clicked.

"Holy shit," he murmured. Ziva immediately perked up. "Tony's dressed as a woman."

Ziva clapped her hands over her mouth and made a noise that could only be described as a squeak.

&&&

Naturally, Tim and Ziva were prepared to use this to their full advantage.

"So I'll sneak around behind him while you distract him...?"

McGee nodded, head bowed low so as to conspire with Siva. "Then you pull off the coat and I'll snap photos." He beamed at her. "This will be epic."

She moved into position. Tony, meanwhile, scanned the crime scene, stepping gingerly around crime scene markers. Each step made a thwock kind of noise.

"Hey Tony, what are you looking at?"

Tony pointed at number 56. "These shell casings look different. See how they almost look like...like shotgun pellets?"

"Yeah, actually."

"I'm thinking they were using an older gun, or maybe a prop gun loaded with live rounds instead of blanks."

Ziva was about ten feet away. McGee angled himself so that Tony's back was to her. "Should I search for antique gun purchases in the last couple months?"

"Maybe. Something here just isn't adding up."

Ziva pounced with a cry and, in a few deft strokes, pulled off the coat entirely. McGee braced himself for a truly hilarious image when he froze, jaw dropping. Beside him, Ziva was still as well, not even a cackle from her.

The long and the short of it was this: Tony was hot. As a lady. McGee hadn't realized that square jaws could work for women, but Tony's long, auburn wig softened the look. He was dressed in fishnets, so he couldn't really be decent, and the shiny leather miniskirt didn't help. If McGee looked, he could see the garter belts holding the stockings in place, disappearing under the skirt. Tony tapping his foot brought his attention to the spike heels he was wearing, the heel taller than McGee would have expected Tony to manage. The maid top - and was that a bra? - gave Tony the requisite shapeliness. Somehow, it all worked.

They couldn't stop staring.

"How..." began McGee, looking Tony over again.

Tony sighed. "Every damn time," he muttered and sauntered over to them. Both sets of eyes hovered firmly at his bust. "Eyes up here, guys." He grinned. "There's one I don't get to use too often. Here's the deal. Two questions apiece and then you two shut up about this, okay?"

They nodded, mesmerized. Tony had makeup. It made his cheeks glow and his eyes look larger. McGee swallowed hard. Beside him, he thought Ziva might have, too.

Tony coughed lightly, breaking their trance.

McGee shook himself out of it and tried to form a coherent sentence. "I guess the first question has to be why. Why are you dressed like a woman?"

Tony's face fell. "You mean it's not obvious?"

Ziva shrugged. "Well, we all want to feel pretty sometimes, but--"

"Har. Har. Laugh it up, but this isn't something I do regularly."

"Your lips say no, but your makeup says otherwise," she pointed out.

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Tech theater in college and going to an all-boys boarding school." He grinned. "I was Juliet twice."

McGee and Ziva just stared.

"Never mind. Seriously, McNerdy, you don't know?"

"No, Tony. I cannot fathom why you're in fishnets, a micro miniskirt, a maid's blouse, and an auburn wig."

"First of all, wow you need to stop watching What Not to Wear in your off hours. Second, I take it you've never done the Time Warp, either."

Recognition flashed in McGee's eyes. "Wait, this is for Rocky Horror?"

"Bingo!" Tony beamed. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Ziva just looked confused. "How does Tony dressing as a woman relate to horrible things involving rocks?"

They both turned to her, puzzled for a protracted moment. Then, simultaneously, they made the connection.

"There's this movie--" McGee started.

"A classic!" Tony (Toni?) interrupted, shifting his weight onto one hip.

"Classic movie that parodies old horror movies. It's pretty terrible--"

"Hey!"

"But it's got a large cult following. Sometimes theaters will do a midnight showing around Halloween."

Ziva still looked puzzled. "But I thought the only thing you liked about Halloween was the police betting pool?"

"It's not a Halloween-specific thing. It's just tradition."

"But that still does not explain your costume."

"One of the songs in the movie--"

"It's a musical," Tony interjected as an aside, buffing polished nails on his blouse. 

"Is about a transvestite. Part of the tradition is to show up in costume. Cross-dressing is encouraged."

"There's also audience participation." Tony shifted his weight and braced his hands on his hips. It made his blouse tighten over his bust line. "You've both asked two questions. Remember: we shall never speak of this again."

He grabbed his trench coat out of Ziva's hands and stalked off as quickly as his stiletto heels would allow, leaving Mcgee and Ziva to ogle and be impressed in equal measure.

"I am never going to understand that man," she murmured.

"I hear you on that one," McGee replied dazedly. Then he shook his head to clear it and clapped Ziva on the shoulder. "Come on, let's keep processing the scene.

She nodded, and together they tried to put the image of Tony-Toni out of their minds.

&&&

When they returned to the office, they found Tony dressed in one of the standard issue coveralls.

"Turns out I didn't have a spare outfit after all," he replied curtly to their inquisitive looks, phone handset pressed to his ear. "Borrowed a change from Ducky."

Tim hated himself for noticing that Tony had washed away all of the makeup.

Gibbs took the opportunity to do one of his flybys. "Whaddya got, McGee?"

Tim grabbed the remote and pulled up the file for the case. "The victim was Brady Donovic, 25, from Chicago. This was his second week of a three-week leave he'd been granted due to medical issues."

"What medical issues."

"The file doesn't say. However, Ducky's autopsy report shows he's been recovering from an acute attack of gout. His big toe was still inflamed."

"Anything else?"

"Vic died of multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, shoulder, and abdomen. Given the number of wounds and shells, Ducky believes there was probably more than one shooter."

Gibbs stared at the image of the navel grunt's file on the screen for a long moment.

Behind them, Tony dropped the phone handset back into the cradle. "That was Donovic's crew. They're in Annapolis and they'd like us to come in speak with the trainees tomorrow morning."

"Anything else we're missing?"

"Breakfast," Tony muttered.

Gibbs ignored him. "Keep digging," he said finally. With a great swig of his coffee, he headed for the elevator, likely to see Abby.

Tony turned to Tim. "I'll cover for you if you'd like to sneak a nap in the cot room."

Tim shook his head. "I'm okay. Same to you, you know."

"Uh-huh," Tony muttered, and pulled up a naval database. Tim sighed and tried to concentrate on his work.

&&&

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes, chair squeaking as he leaned back in it. "This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered, jabbing his pen at his notes.

"If you mean why Marines keep getting killed off, you should have stopped asking that question years ago," Ziva quipped, eyes flicking to Tony for a brief moment.

"No, though a very good question." He stood and stretched, coveralls stretching with him. "When I was a cop, there were shifts of people. Day guys didn't get called in unless there was an emergency, and a bad one at that. Or if we got tossed a redball."

"One of the perks of being a smaller agency, I guess. More cases." McGee grinned. "Shouldn't you be used to this by now? You've been here almost ten years."

Tony froze and counted under his breath. "Holy shit," he breathed. "You're right, McMath."

McGee didn't even react. "Will you get a plaque or something?"

"Dunno. I think that's up to Vance." Tony sat back down at his desk but oscillated in his chair, one knee bending as his chair moved back and forth in an arc. "Ten years. Wow."

"In Mossad, you would have received a feast in your honor," Ziva commented, arms folded on her desk and expression far away. "Few operatives make it to their tenth year, and there are rarely occasions to celebrate. Your partners and colleagues would have made toasts to you, praising your bravery and skill. Even my father would have said a few words, mostly a blessing that you live until you were old and gray."

Tony and McGree traded a look. "That sounds really nice," McGee said softly.

"Yeah," Tony echoed, stilling his chair. "Very nice."

&&&

Ezekiel "Zeke" Aronguaren was a burly-looking guy with a build that could only be described as barrel-chested. Though soft-spoken, he was expressive. Right now, it was obvious to Tony and Ziva both that his grief for his comrade was real and a complete surprise.

As Zeke broke down while Gibbs asked quiet questions, Ziva turned to Tony. "You make a very beautiful woman."

Tony's eyebrow rose. "Thank you?"

Ziva smirked. "You're welcome." She gave him a slow once over. Tony resisted the urge to fidget. "With really nice legs." She added, beaming, and walked out of the observation room.

When the door shut, Tony blew out a breath and felt himself blush hotly. "Damn," he breathed, and pulled at the collar of his coverall.

&&&

"What did Abby say again, Boss?"

Gibbs's mouth thinned to a line. "Three different shell casings, all for weapons not in our database or tied to any other crimes. Chances are they're unregistered if not flat out black market weaponry."

"And how did the interviews go?"

"Every one of them seemed genuinely sad that he'd been killed." Gibbs paused to take a drink of his coffee. "All of them had alibis, too."

"I think we're running out of leads, boss. His credit cards weren't stolen, so I can't track a thief. No one he knew if had received or made any strange, large deposits, and his bank statements confirm that. The guns can't be tracked and there's no real evidence of anything. By all accounts, he was a nice guy who grew up in a rough neighborhood and joined the Navy to make something of himself."

Tony dropped the phone back in its cradle. "McGee is right. But not about the leads being dead. Before the vic left, he'd been recruited pretty insistently by both of the drug kings in the area. Personally." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Apparently Donovic was smart, quiet, and closed-mouthed. His name had come up more than once."

"What did they want him for?" Gibbs frowned slightly.

"Muscle, probably. You saw him - tall, broad, and quiet? Sounds like a good hitman to me."

"So how'd he get out?"

"Apparently his grandmother was far scarier than either the Horwaths or the Farzai gangs." Tony shook his head. "When I worked in Peoria, these guys were chump change. Now they're big time."

"The times, they are a-changin'," Gibbs quipped. "See if we can reach out to the Chicago Police Department. Maybe they know why he would have gotten whacked in Maryland, and not Illinois."

&&&

"You ever feel like you're in a Law & Order episode?"

Tony huffed a laugh. "More like Cop Rock."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"No, you idiot."

There was a lull.

"Where did you stash your costume?"

"In my locker in the gym. Why? You thinking about borrowing it?" Tony waggled his eyebrows.

McGee sputtered. "No, I was just--"

"'Cause I saw you checking it out."

"It wasn't the costume I was checking out!" McGee blurted, clapping his hands over his mouth and staring wide-eyed at Tony.

The car was silent for a few moments.

"Geez. Ziva and then you. Maybe I should come to work in drag more often."

"Not if you wear outfits like the one you had on earlier."

"Seriously, are you screening your words before they come out of your mouth?" Tony leveled an incredulous stare at McGee, who could feel the back of his neck heat. "Look, I inherited my mother's legs and my father's...well. Point is, you are crossing the line from amusing to flat out creepy, and I don't even have a Facebook." His eyes flicked over to McGee, the red hue of the brake lights of the car in front of them giving him eerie shadows. "Let it go, Tim."

"But--"

"Drop. It." They took a left turn in silence. "Now. We have a dead would-be Marine who might have been killed in a gang killing."

"Might have?" McGee queried. "The evidence looks pretty solid to me."

"It is if they were making his death a message. But if they were, they'd have dumped the body in Chicago, not done it in Maryland."

"And if it's not a message?"

"Then why even kill the guy? It doesn't make any sense."

"Go with your gut--"

"It's not that," Tony interrupted, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. "I've worked in the midst of drug zones before. It doesn't go down like this. We're missing something." Tony continued to drum his fingers on the sheering wheel, mind running over the details of the case in his mind over and over. McGee tried (and failed) to not be put on edge by this; Tony was the best driver of the four of them. Not that he'd ever tell the guy.

"We'll figure it out," he offered reassuringly. "We always do."

"Yeah," Tony said after a moment. "We do, don't we?"

&&&

"You're telling me his death was an accident?"

Tony, McGee, and Ziva traded looks. "Yes," Tony said, stepping forward slightly. "That's what the evidence--"

"And confession," Ziva added.

"And confession seem to indicate."

Vance gave each of them a cool stare. "And what exactly should I tell Donovic's family?"

"The truth," McGee said firmly. "Donovic was mistaken for Adrian Hull, who had had a hit taken out on him by his wife. It was unfortunate, but it's how things went down."

"How did we even figure this out? As I recall, your investigation had taken a turn for drug dealers and gang wars." Vance moved his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

Gibbs spoke up then. "Abby ran the bullets through every database except Interpol. She called in a favor, just to check. We got hits from all over Eastern Europe, mostly Russian mob presence. From there, it was just following a paper trail."

Vance nodded. "Why did the wife put out a hit on him?"

"He was stepping out on her," Tony replied flatly. "She was well-to-do in Russia thanks to mob ties her family had. She called in a favor of her own to get her husband killed, that way she could inherit the life insurance policy she'd taken out on him when they'd gotten married. The gunman was supposed to wait for Adrian, but he jumped the gun and then fled the scene when he saw Donovic's USMC tattoo."

"Donovic was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hull took advantage of the mistake to flee the country." Ziva looked disgusted. "Border patrol--"

"Mounties," corrected Tony.

"Border patrol arrested Hull and sent him back over here. But I doubt we'll ever find the gunman himself."

"It's a damn shame," Gibbs said, summing up all of their feelings.

Vance nodded curtly. "Fine. I'll tell them the whole sorry story. You're dismissed. Hang back Gibbs."

The other dutifully filed back down to the bullpen. "Another case solved," Tony murmured.

"Another good person gone," Ziva retorted, voice fierce and quiet.

"At least this one got justice," McGee pointed out, voice placating. Their corner of the bullpen was lit by desk lamps alone. The over head lights were off, and the office was essentially empty.

"There's always that." Tony flipped his computer off and shrugged on his jacket. At some point in the last week, they'd forgotten about Tony's costume, but suddenly the image of it rushed back to McGee's mind.

"Good night," Ziva called behind her, disappearing into the stairwell. That left McGee and Tony alone.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Hopefully not investigating the death of yet another Marine. Why? What are you offering?" Tony looked at him askance.

"There's a showing of Rocky Horror in New York tomorrow night and I was wondering if, well, maybe..."

"You just want to ogle me in my costume again."

"No, that's not--"

Tony held up a hand. "Relax, I'm teasing. Have you ever gone before?" He smacked his forehead with his palm. "What am I saying, of course you haven't."

"So...we're going?"

Tony beamed. "Yes! I always love seeing people pop their Rocky Horror cherry."

"That is an awful mental image."

"Better than Human Centipede."

"Point." McGee fidgeted. "When should I pick you up?"

"First of all, I'm picking you up."

McGee leveled a flat stare at Tony, who ignored it completely.

"I'll be by around five. It's a, what, four hour drive to New York City? Yeah, that should be fine. We'll drive up together, have dinner in the city, and then head over to the theater. Oh, this'll be fun."

"You are way too excited about this."

"Or maybe you're not excited enough." Tony rose and grabbed his bag. "See you tomorrow night, Probie." In a few strides, he was gone.

McGee twiddled his thumbs and watched his computer shut down. Surveying their empty bullpen, he rotated his chair back and forth, then stood suddenly and headed for the elevator, chair spinning forlornly behind him.

He pressed the call button, then stepped inside the car. As the doors closed with a ding!, he shifted his weight and grinned.

Epilogue / Reprise

Tony's short (well, short for him) voice mail message had said, "Hey McGee, come dressed casually. Rocky Horror Virgins like you should not dress up their first time. Also, you won't need to bring supplies - the theater's going to provide them for us. I'll swing by around five-thirty. Make sure you call ahead to the restaurant. Oh, and don't wear stripes. You will be made fun of."

The were going to carry out a meal because, as Tony had put it, "I'm going to have to deal with your awkward gawking all night, McCreepy. I don't need to deal with that while I'm eating dinner as well." So their favorite around-the-corner place and a park pavilion it was.

McGee heard a honk outside his place. Grabbing his jacket and keys, he locked the door behind him and clattered down the stairs. Then he rapped twice on the window and got in, slamming the door shut.

"Easy, McDestructive. It's a car, not a Tonka truck." Tony was covered in his trench coat again, though his makeup and wig were back in place. McGee did his best to not stare.

"I ordered our usuals from the place." He paused and snuck a sidelong look at Tony. "I, uh, I guess I'll go in and get it?"

"Smart man," Tony replied, amused, and peeled out into the street.

Later, as they perched on a picnic table, feet on the seats and seated on the aluminum tabletop, McGee pointed out that with Tony looking like a lady, they were liable to be mistaken for a pair on a date.

Tony's expression shifted into something could only be described as sultry. "You should take that for the compliment it is, McGee."

McGee felt himself blush hotly, and he took a large bite of his meal to cover it up. Judging by Tony's expression, he had not succeeded half so well as we would have liked.

The drive to the theater was largely uneventful.

"So it's just us?"

Tony nodded.

"You didn't invite Ziva?"

"No, I did, but she said," he cleared his throat and did a remarkably uncanny impersonation, "I do not understand you Americans and your culture. I will stick to my books tonight."

McGee snickered. "Gibbs and Ducky are obvious. What about Palmer or Abby?"

"Palmer mentioned he was busy, so I didn't ask him. As for Abby, well. She goes to an annual Halloween night showing in McLean with her all-nun bowling team. I wish I was making that up."

"Then it's just you and me."

"That's right, McObvious. Now help me find a place to park."

When they'd parked and circled the car, McGee got his first view of Tony's costume under the fluorescent lights of the lot. He was wearing the stilettos, fishnets, and miniskirt again, but this time he'd layered a very structured corset over a muslin shirt with flowing sleeves. It made him look very busty, and with the long hair and makeup, well. McGee couldn't help but stare and suffer a new onslaught of confusing feelings.

"Eyes up here, McStaring. Yes, those are my legs, but my face is much higher up."

McGee felt himself color and tugged at his collar. All of which Tony saw.

He grinned. "I'd ask how I looked, but given that you're hot under the collar - literally - I'm not gonna bother." Each step made a clip clip clip sound against the pavement. And while Tony had always had a slight height advantage, in the heels he was distinctly taller.

Of course, he was also sashaying his hips more, so perhaps the trade-off was worthwhile. McGee cursed his stupid hormones - he was not a teenager anymore, damn it! - and walked a bit faster to keep up with Tony's elongated gait.

The line was shuffling inside already when they reached it. They bought tickets and headed for the theater quickly, Tony anxious to get good seats. All around them were people in costume. Some had recreated the outfits from the film while others (like Tony) had gone for a look that was clearly inspired by the film but not directly lifted from it. McGee even spotted a few other virgins like himself.

"There!" Tony cried. Grabbing McGee by the arm, he pulled both of them to a pair of seats slightly left of center. "Perfect," he said, settling into his chair. He primly crossed his legs as a woman might, derailing whatever train of thought McGee had had going.

As the lights lowered, he couldn't help but give Tony one last once-over. His ridiculous, confusing feelings wouldn't let him not ogle his, well, date for the night.

However, Tony saw this. Rolling his eyes, he asked flatly, "Really?"

McGee looked at him helplessly. "I can't help it! You, with the shoes and the legs and the eyes and the eliciting really weird feelings that I don't really want to explore and--"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Tim." Tony leaned over and placed his hands on both sides of McGee's face, pulling him in for a single, fairly thorough kiss. When they pulled apart, a few cheers rang out in the crowd behind them.

McGee was dazed and Tony had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Now shut up and watch the movie."

Starry-eyed, McGee did just that.