[A/N #1 TLDR version: Got busy with an externship, got hospitalized for a cat bite, I missed u all v v much
A/N #2 for realsies: Would Tony and his wife be allowed to work together on a team? Probs not. Would Gibbs be crazy enough to voluntarily work with both of them? Even more probs not. But it makes my lil heart happy so here you go :)]
Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x wife!agent!reader
There are two things in your career that satisfy you to no end: 1) Getting justice for the victims whose case files come across your desk and 2) Working with your husband every day. The latter presents complications, of course- the occasional conflict of interest, quibbles over theories following you home from the office, an added level of anxiety during contentious takedowns- but it also allows you the distinct privilege of spoiling and, arguably more importantly, embarrassing the hell out of one Anthony DiNozzo, Junior, on a daily basis.
Your head lifts on its own volition, guided by your nose tuning in to the sweet smell of hazelnut creamer and woodsy cologne permeating the air of the NCIS bullpen. Your partner, both in and out of the field, has evidently returned from a midday coffee run looking as delicious as the pastries you’ve spotted by the to-go cups on his desk. Checking to make sure your boss is still nestled securely in the Director’s office, you cross over into Tony’s space just as he lays his suit jacket across the back of his chair. Slipping your hands into the back pockets of his tight-fitting slacks, you can’t help but serenade him with the ten-second clip of brain rot that plagued your social media for a ridiculous number of weeks. “Can I get to the yams?” you whisper-sing through a giggle, pinching his favorite cheeks of yours, maintaining your grip even as you attempt to dodge the hand nearing the back of your head. “Sweet ya-am- ow!” Darting out of his reach, you drop into Tony’s seat with a pout, arms crossed petulantly. “You have hereby been demoted from Very Special Agent to just Special Agent for that.”
“You-” Tony sneaks a glance at McGee and Ziva who are trying- and failing- to hide their smiles before crouching to meet you at eye level and lowering his voice to carry on, “You are the reason we had to sit through that inappropriate conduct seminar for three hours last week.” He maintains an even tone, but you can see his lips twitching with amusement.
“I’m sorry everyone in this office is jealous I can touch your butt and they can’t,” you huff with an eye roll.
“Literally no one is jealous of you for that,” McGee calls from his desk across the aisle.
“Well, you guys are missing out,” you respond with an exaggerated sigh.
Shaking his head, Tony fixes you with as stern a look as he can muster. “Save it for later, Bee,” you intone in an imitation of your husband’s voice, “I know.”
“You would think,” he begins, offering you a hand to help you up and walking you back over to your desk by Ziva’s, “that you’d have moved past the infatuation stage at this point in our relationship.”
“And you would think you’d have stopped calling me ‘Probie’ by now, Anthony.”
“I have! ‘Bee’ is different than ‘Probie’. It’s a nickname and it’s cute.”
“Says who?” you challenge, eyes narrowed.
“If you say ‘Senior Field Agent,’ I swear to God, Tony, you’re sleeping on the-”
“DiNozzos!” Gibbs’ gruff voice puts an immediate stop to your squabble as he descends the steps two at a time. “Ziva, McGee, all of you, front and center. Whaddya got? Besides too much time on your hands.”
“Coffee and a suspect,” you supply with a smile, turning on the plasma display as Tony presents Gibbs with a cardboard cup. “For once, Agent DiNozzo’s go-to theory seems to hold water.” Raising an eyebrow at your husband, you playfully mock, “It was the wife.”
Tim picks up the next leg of your shared insight. “Credit card history has the Lieutenant Commander’s wife meeting with our hit man at a hotel in Anacostia two weeks before the murder, Boss.”
“We also traced these calls from the burner found on our victim’s body,” Ziva indicates for Tim to highlight the outgoing calls on the phone logs before continuing, “…to his sister in law, Anna.”
The redhead’s photo pops up on the TV, and your husband lets out a low whistle that has your hand instantly connecting with the back of his head. “You are my light, my sunshine, and the very air I breathe, my dear,” he speaks through a grimace, trying to gauge your reaction through his peripheral vision.
“Go pick our hitman up,” Gibbs instructs, cutting off your bickering before it can begin by dangling the sedan’s keys on his index finger in front of you.
You snatch them up, sharing a catlike grin with Ziva. “My pleasure, Boss. I might be needing his services soon, anyway.”
“Uh uh,” your boss calls as the two of you start collecting your things. “Take Tony.”
Your husband flashes you a sheepish smile while you grumble at him over the lip of your coffee cup. “Let’s go, Dick-Nozzo.”
“It’s your last name, too,” he points out astutely, holding out his hand for the keys.
As the elevator begins its descent, Tony slips two fingers under your chin and turns your face towards him, concern muting the typical sparkle in his olive green eyes. “Are you really upset with me, babe?”
You count the seconds ticking away in your head, relishing in the way he squirms under your stern gaze, before relenting at second fourteen. “No, you big dummy,” you say with a nudge to his side. “She’s hot.”
Tony lifts your hand to his mouth and presses his lips against your wedding band before asserting, “You’re hotter.”
Curling your free hand around his tie, you tug him closer and land a sound kiss on his lips. The elevator dings to indicate you’ve reached the parking garage, and you reluctantly release your husband from your grip with a satisfied smile and a murmured, “I’ve taught you so well.”
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