Title: Dry Spell
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be on FanFiction so much if I owned them. I'd be...enjoying them...^^
Spoilers: The Truth is Out There
Summary: He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.
A/N: Heh, something Tony said in this episode suddenly made me think of a TIVA type moment. ^^ Even though he's talking to Kate.
He's surprised to find he's not actually bothered by having to work through the weekend. He thinks maybe it should bother him. It used to, he knows that. He used to hate having to break dates and cancel plans, losing any slight chance he had with his latest flavor of the week. Frowning, he realizes that he actually hasn't had all that many dates recently. He wonders briefly at that.
He sits at his desk and seriously thinks, tries to remember the last time he had a date he really looked forward to. It's harder than he expects it to be. Maybe it's because of how much has happened recently, but somehow he doesn't think it's actually that. Eyebrows drawing together, he turns and glances at the calendar he has hanging next to his desk.
He doesn't even notice the enticing pose of the pin-up style model proclaimed in bold letters to be "Ms. November;" he's more focused on counting the weeks that have passed, trying to remember some sort of milestone to trigger some definitive timeline. He's not sure, but he thinks he hasn't had a real date since...he was re-stationed in D.C. again.
'Dry spell, Tony?' he can hear Kate whisper in his ear and he's struck by the realization that he hasn't thought of her in a long time either. Not that that's a bad thing, really, but he'd gotten used to imagining her nearby and observing. Not as some sort of denial or anything, but because he misses her, misses their relationship. Hadn't thought of her in a while, though.
He wonders why this has happened, any of it. He doesn't think Jenny's death has anything to do with it, but it might. You never know. Thinking of Jenny, though, makes him think of a poolside in L.A. and he smiles. The elevator chimes just then and he glances up, pulling himself upright in his chair just in case it's Gibbs.
He smiles again as she walks out, her hair straightened for once and falling in soft strands over her shoulders. She's casual as she strides over to her desk, purposeful. She glances over at him briefly and flashes as grin in his direction as she puts away her gear and settles into her chair. He feels a strange sort of jump in his gut as her gaze once more flicks in his direction and finally stays trained on his face. As she watches him, confusion and amusement shining in her eyes, he grins back at her and turns his attention to his monitor.
He thinks he knows why he doesn't mind working all weekend, after all.