"Ha ha ha ha!" Tony was wrapped in a blanket on his couch, a big bowl of cereal in his hands. Every time he laughed, he spit cereal all over. He had intended to come home and get dressed to go out, but he just hadn't felt like it. Instead, he was watching "History of the World."

"Comic Genius! I gotta tell Ziva that one…" He muttered to himself and picked up his phone from the coffee table, setting his cereal down. Thumbs quickly texted Ziva a few funny Mel Brooks quotes and he set his phone back down to wait. He had been texting her since the movie started, trying to irritate her on her date. He didn't really want to ruin her date, he just wanted revenge for her not telling him who it was. So far she had threatened to change her phone number, to Gibbs-slap him into next week when she saw him on Monday, and to kill him using his cellphone (something he sort of wanted to see her try, even though he was pretty sure she could figure out a way to do it). Finally, she had just told him to "grow up." Like that was going to happen.

He had tried texting McGee, too, but he hadn't even gotten one reply. He knew better than to text Gibbs. He amused himself by wondering what they all were doing. McGee was probably following Abby around the concert, holding her drink and scowling at any other guys who tried to talk to her. He laughed at the thought of it. Gibbs was probably drinking and working on a boat down in the basement. He couldn't picture him doing anything else on a Friday night. There was a time when he would've pictured Ziva doing something like challenging her date to a martial arts contest. She'd kick his ass and then make him take her to dinner. Or maybe a fencing match. Where she'd knock his little sword out of his hands and make him take her to dinner. But he had known her too long now, knew her too well. Now he could picture her having dinner and then going home to discuss a book with some nerdy guy.

He wrinkled his nose. If he was going to waste a Friday night fantasizing about Ziva, he certainly didn't want to be fantasizing about her playing book club with some guy in suspenders and glasses. Especially not since he knew what she looked like in a bikini. He picked up his phone to see if she had texted him back yet. She hadn't. He sent her a couple more texts to annoy her, but it wasn't as fun without a reaction. He put his phone back on the table and put in another movie since the ending credits had started to roll. Why did everyone else seem to have a life suddenly but him?

Abby pulled McGee's keys out of his pocket and fumbled with them, trying to get his front door open. They had both had quite a bit to drink, and had taken a cab back to McGee's apartment. She had wanted to go home to her own apartment, but she had never seen McGee drink that much before. She was a little nervous to leave him all alone. She got the door opened and put his arms around her neck again, trying to lead him into the house.

"Hey, this place looks just like my place!" He grinned and slapped a hand against the wall, stumbling. "When did you redecorate, Abby?"

"This is your place, Tim! Now let's get you into bed." She steered him in the direction of the bedroom, kicking closed the door behind her and throwing down his keys.

"Abby!" He tried to look at her sternly, and grabbed her face. "You are drunk, you don't know what you're saying. I am not going to sleep with you while you're in- in- inebri…" The room seemed to be spinning and he ran for the bathroom. She could hear the sound of him retching through the door and rolled her eyes in disgust.

"That's good, Timmy, because it wasn't an offer!" She yelled in to him. She went into the kitchen, getting herself a drink before coming back to the bedroom to strip down to her undies and t-shirt. She peeked into the bathroom to make sure McGee was still alive. One arm was on the toilet seat, and his head was on his arm. He was fast asleep, drooling. She shook her head and made an "ick" sound before turning around and climbing into his bed. She'd check on him later to make sure he didn't fall into the toilet and drown.

Gibbs sat at his kitchen table, sipping his coffee and reading his newspaper. Lisa worked on Saturday mornings, and she had already dressed and left. He was definitely going to the lumber store today. He also needed to wash his car. Maybe get an oil change while he was out. But first, he put his paper down and picked his phone up and did something he'd promised to start doing every Saturday.

"Hey, dad? Hey… how's it going?"