It was grey and cloudy on Tony’s birthday, and Gibbs found himself impatiently watching the clock until finally at just after 2 p.m. he gave up all pretence of trying to work. “Got an appointment,” he barked, getting up and grabbing his coat. “I’ll be gone the rest of the afternoon. When you’ve finished your paperwork hit the gym for some hand to hand practice " Ziva, I want you to teach McGee some of those moves you keep trying to use on me.” He had to restrain a smile as McGee visibly paled and Ziva grinned wolfishly at the thought of the afternoon sparring session. “I’m reachable by phone, but don’t call me unless it’s a real emergency.”
Even with the lack of sun it was still warm enough for Gibbs to choose to make the half-hour walk to the museum. Part of it was his innate thriftiness rebelling against spending the money for a cab, but he also hoped that the walk would take some of the edge off the nervous anticipation he was feeling at the thought of the afternoon. While he had hinted to Tony last year " and meant it " that he would be there for him on his birthday if he wanted, he’d never expected Tony to take him up on it. Now that he had, Gibbs was a bit antsy. What if he screwed this up? Sighing softly, Gibbs forced those thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on watching for Tony and Abby. He almost missed them, as his gaze drifted over them without really seeing them. It was Tony, resplendent in a dark grey designer suit, magenta shirt and complementing tie, that first registered in his brain, and it took him a moment to realise that the stylish woman on his SFA’s arm was his goth labrat. Dressed in a very classy-looking brown suit with white collar, cuffs and buttons and a wide-brimmed brown and white “Southern belle” hat, Abby was almost unrecognisable.
“Gibbs!” she squealed, giving him a huge hug. “Tony said he had a surprise for me, but I didn’t think it would be you.” She turned to Tony and slapped him on the arm. “That’s for not telling me, bucko. It’s your birthday " I should be surprising you, not the other way around.”
Gibbs smiled at Abby’s antics before switching his attention to Tony. “Didn’t tell me there was a dress code, DiNozzo,” he said with a pointed look at Abby.
“You like the outfit, Gibbs?” Abby asked, turning slowly so he could get the full effect. “It’s the same one Patrick Swayze wore in To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar.”
Tony laughed at Gibbs’ confused expression. “It’s a movie, Gibbs. Universal Pictures and Ambling Entertainment, 1995. Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo play three drag queens travelling from New York to Hollywood to take part in this national drag queen contest. I gotta admit, Patrick Swayze looked fantastic as a girl, well, a guy dressing up like a girl, in it. It came out about a year after Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, which was an Australian flick along the same lines with Hugo Weaving " the guy from Matrix and Lord of the Rings " Terrence Stamp and Guy Pearce. He was in…” Tony’s voice trailed off as he stared at Gibbs, who was looking even more confused, but was still listening intently to him. “Um, Boss? Usually you cut me off way before now.”
Abby giggled as Gibbs glared at Tony. “Consider it a birthday present, DiNozzo. Now are we going to do some touring, or are we gonna stand here talking about guys dressed up like girls all day?”
“On it, Boss!” Tony said smiling widely and taking Abby’s arm. She offered her other arm to Gibbs, and the three of them headed into the museum.
Later that night at Tony’s place, as he watched Tony and Abby fight over the last egg roll while carrying on a spirited argument about the science " or lack thereof " in the movie they were watching, Gibbs couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. This felt good, felt right, in a way that nothing had since he’d lost Kelly and Shannon.
“Boss?” Tony’s voice broke into his reverie. “Everything okay?” He looked concerned, and Gibbs realised that he must have spaced out for a few moments.
“Everything’s good, Tony,” he said, raising his bottle of beer in a toast to the birthday boy. “Everything’s good.”
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