Title: Two CSI and two NCIS agents walk into a bar...
Author: Nicol Leoraine
A/N: This fic was originally written for a picture prompt for NCIS LFWS Round 5, but then I wrote another fic and decided to try my luck with that.
When Tony and Gibbs take the flight to Vegas, their minds are on the case. It's a hard one and they need to cooperate with the local CSI's. The fact they are second best in the States is just a bonus. Three days later, the case is over, two suspects are in jail, one is dead. It's the last night the NCIS agents are to spend in Vegas, and that's how they end up in a bar with Nick Stokes and Gil Grissom.
"I had my own private stalker." Nick says when the talk turns to crazy psychos and personal scars.
"I was locked up in a trailer with several billions of false dollars, being shot at by a crazy bunch of people and my own partner, who thought it was a smart move to fire a gun in a metal box." Tony counters.
"Well, I was buried alive, almost eaten by fire ants and then almost buried again when they found out I was sitting on a bomb."
"Oh. Damn. Does that beat being infected with plague?" Tony looks up, genuine confusion on his face.
Meanwhile, Grissom and Gibbs sit behind the bar, sipping on a beer and listening.
"Plague? Really?" Grissom asks Gibbs.
Gibbs only shrugs. "It's not like being buried alive is so modern either."
Grissom frowns, and then nods.
"Hey, were you ever accused of murder?" Tony asks suddenly, dart in hand, preparing to hit the target. Nick grimaces.
"Once, yeah. Kristy was a ...sweet girl. But it was totally a set up…! What about you?" He asks, suspicious.
"Oh, just about two times," Tony mutters and throws, the dart hitting the bull's eye. Grinning, he turns to a startled Nick."I think I won!"
"No way! How can you be accused two times and still keep your job?"
"Does a set-up ring any bells to you? Oh, and the second time it was just by accident, but I had an alibi, so it was cool. Anyway, Gibbs is pretty tolerant," at that both Gibbs and Grissom raise their eyebrows and exchange a look. "...when he knows you're innocent." Tony adds with a grin and Gibbs rolls his eyes, while Grissom takes a sip of the beer to hide his own grin. Nick just listens.
"Still, isn't it making him angry that you get into so much trouble?"
"Nah, didn't you meet Gibbs?" Tony snorts. "The man gets into more trouble than I. He was shot, blown up several times, lost his memory, then almost drowned. I think the worst was his mustache era though." Tony grimaces, and then yelps as a hand hits its mark. He massages the back of his head, and then looks up at Gibbs with repentant eyes.
Waiting until Gibbs returns to his seat behind the bar, Tony then shuffles closer to Nick and whispers:
"That's another thing, the head slaps."
"Don't they hurt?" Nick asks, throwing a half-glare Gibbs way.
"Nah, they're not so bad once you get used to them. Truth is, most of the time I deserve them. Though, I'm getting a little concerned that I might get a bald spot from all the contact," Tony runs his hand over his hair, looking troubled. Nick steps behind him to take a look, and then shrugs.
"Looks normal. I would be more concerned about brain cells than hair follicles though."
"I have a hard head," Tony grins widely.
"Whatever. It might be better than all the riddles and quotations. Or the bugs," Nick rolls his eyes.
"Huh?" Tony looks confused.
"You know, if you want to get something out of Gris, like what he thinks about you doing this or that, or why the hell did he not tell me there were more people behind my burial," Nick grits his teeth, pausing. He clearly needs to count to ten, or one hundred cause by the time he continues, Tony is on his next beer. "Can't get a straight answer out of the man. I ask if I'm a good CSI, and he asks what does a cow drink." Gritting his teeth at the memory, Nick grabs the darts from Tony and throws them one by one straight in the middle. Never mind the startled guy who got in the way and ended up with one dart swishing inches before his eyes.
"What about the bugs?" Tony asks, smirking. He isn't a light drinker, but the case was hard and long, and they barely got the chance to eat or sleep, so all the alcohol is going to his head, creating a nice wall of haziness. Maybe he should buy Nick a beer with a little vodka inside, so the guy would relax.
"Have you been in his office? It's living on its own there," Nick rolls his eyes.
"Must be cool," Tony says with a smile. He spent most of the time in the lab with Greg, who was enjoying the online conference with Abby, or out in the city, looking through the casinos. Not that he would complain about that. While Tony's lost in thought, Nick is still talking about Grissom and his penchant for quoting.
"Maybe you guys should come to DC. I bet Grissom would just love to have a chat with Ducky. They could hold a quoting contest and we could all bet on who will win." Tony gives a wide grin and Nick replies with one of his own. "Sounds like a plan, bro," he says and pats Tony on the shoulder. "What do you say about a round of pool?"
On the other side of the bar, two men exchange understanding glances.
"I think they had one too many beers," Grissom says.
"It was a hard case," Gibbs shrugs. "They need to unwind."
"Well, your agent will be on his way to DC tomorrow, but I need mine at work without a hangover," Grissom complains with a sigh.
"I can always teach you the right way to headslap," Gibbs offers and takes a sip. Grissom thinks about it for a long while, and then shakes his head sadly. "Thanks, Jethro, but I will have to decline. We have a rather strong union here; I doubt they would appreciate it."
Gibbs only shrugs. "Suit yourself."
The next ten minutes are spent in silence, watching the bickering over the pool table, where Tony spends more time leering over the waitress than actually playing, and Nick is getting bored.
"I would go for a fast ride," Gibbs mutters and Grissom perks up.
"Do you by any chance want to try out our rollercoaster?"
Gibbs looks at Grissom like he's crazy, but when he sees the glint in the man's eyes, he thinks: "What the hell. Must be better than watching DiNozzo get laid or beat up." Finishing his beer, he throws one last glance toward the pool table. Seeing that Stokes looks more or less clear headed and capable of dragging Tony's ass back to the hotel, he throws some cash on the table and turns to Grissom.
"Lead on MacDuff." After all, they are in Vegas. What better place to let the children play?