A/N: This is a small story that I wrote in less than an hour after watching the last episode of NCIS in which we got to meet Tony's dad. Spoiler warning for 7x12, Flesh and Blood past this point. You have been warned.

And for those who would are wondering, the next update of The Finding Symphony should be up before the week is through. :)

One last thing before I go: Who besides me absolutely LOVED this episode? How Gibbs' defended Tony and how in the end Gibbs was proud of what Tony did and how Tony went to Gibbs' house for some grub? I litterly melted when Gibbs told DiNozzo Sr. that Tony was the best agent he had ever worked with! And to hear Sr. call Tony Junior...hmm. And Gibbs smacking Tony repeatedly with the hat? LOL. Okay. I'm done. Read and review! :)

Tony's pretty sure that it's something learned. In that sense, Tony agrees with some experts when they say it's genetic.

The first time Tony ever saw his father drink was the day after his mother was dead.

Every time before that day, Tony would watch on in silent hero worship as his father sipped his ice water as he discussed important business matters with his grandfather, Michael DiNozzo IV. Michael always drank Crown Royal with a bit of Coca-Cola and his father always sipped ice water.

Then his mother died and the next day Tony was told by his father, who was already drunk, how to pour three fingers of McAllen with one ice cube. Even then, Tony hated the lesson.

Soon after that lesson, Tony shipped off to his first of a series of boarding schools. The first semester at the Catholic school, Tony had spent more than half of each day in the headmaster's office or nursing a sore behind.

At the time, Tony had thought he was a bad kid and had hated himself for it, blaming himself for his mother's death and his father's behavior, especially the part where his father sent him away, but at the time, he hadn't known how to fix it.

Years later, when Tony was slightly drunk and sitting all alone watching a old western movie marathon on TV, he had realized that most of his behavior was due to the fact that he had been a kid who had just lost both his parents-his mother to death and his father to the drink.

Because even when he would see his father, Tony no longer recognized the man who sipped the malt.

Gone was the man who drank ice water to, Tony was sure, never return.

Next time Tony came into contact with alcohol was his first year at military school.

He had been kicked out of every boarding school on the east coast-fighting, back talking and respecting everything that breathed, and his father, in a rare somber moment, sent him to the best military school in the area- Rhode Island Military Academy.

Here, Tony wasn't hit with a paddle when he decided to act out. Most of the boys that Tony didn't get along with were older and in most cases, a lot heavier and bigger. At twelve, Tony had been scrawny for his age, often mistaken for someone a year or two younger, and it was in Military School that a young Tony became ashamed of his nickname, Junior.

The older boys said the name mockingly, degrading his worth and value with that one word.

One night, a few weeks after Tony's first day, Tony had stumbled upon a party.

Only this wasn't like any party Tony had ever been to.

The older boys who usually picked on him, were laughing and shoving him around playfully as they handed Tony drink after drink.

Somewhere around the fourth drink Tony realized something was horribly wrong but it was already too late.

Tony was slurring his words and had that puking feeling and before he knew it, the older boys were laughing at him as he blew chunks in the nearest head.

The next day Tony reported to the school nurse and as he laid in agony on the small cot in her bed, Tony vowed never to touch the rancid stuff again.

The vow lasted for five years.

By now Tony had just turned seventeen and he was one of the tallest kids at the school.

He was broad in the shoulders and was filling out nicely, thanks to weight-training for football and basketball, and no one called him Junior anymore.

At sixteen, Tony hadn't talked to his dad in about two years and hadn't seen his father in person in about three.

His junior year, his football team won the state championship for all private and parochial schools and had even beaten the public school state champion in double overtime.

Tony who had almost been thrown out of the game for getting into a "small fight", was still given the MVP award for the season and was invited to one of the senior parties.

Tony had arrived at the party a little late, having done his allotted mile and push-ups for fighting, and looking back, Tony knew he had been a bit naïve at the time.

Three hours later Tony was drunk off his butt and since it was the weekend, spent all night partying, proud of himself that he was the only junior at the party.

And when the school officers discovered the party at about four in the morning, Tony was the only one who ran all his laps laughing as he puked mid-stride like the rest of his "buddies."

Because even though no one called him Junior anymore, Tony had ended up just like his father.

Tony's senior year had been a close repeat of his junior year, the only difference being was Tony not allowed to play the first five games of basketball for running his mouth off at his morning drill instructor.

By now Tony partied enough to know all the cures for hangovers and who exactly had connections to buy beer when needed.

It was also during this year that Tony saw his father again. DiNozzo Sr. had come to school right before they were let out for Christmas break to inform his son that he was going to be out of the country for Christmas, again, and that he had set up school visits with all the best business schools on the east coast.

At the time, Tony hadn't had the heart, nor the desire, to tell him that he wasn't going to an ivy league school, he already had an offer from Ohio State, and that he wasn't going into business.

But it wouldn't have mattered either way because Anthony DiNozzo Sr. had been in a rush and he never really remembered his son anyway.

College was fun and for the most part easy. He worked hard in the spring, summer and fall, only to party his life away during the winter.

After leaving military school, Tony still had an aversion to anyone who ordered him around but as he grew, Tony learned that in most cases, his tongue was a much more useful tool than his fist had ever been.

And he wielded it with power on and off the field.

Tony hadn't gone to a decent party in a few months, to consumed with weight training and getting his body ready to be noticed by NFL teams, so in turn he hadn't tasted alcohol in the same amount of time.

That all changed the last game of his senior year when one wrong move, one badly taken hit, and ended all of Tony's work.

Looking back, Tony was shocked he hadn't died from the mere amount of alcohol he had consumed. Days would go by and if it hadn't been for his frat buddies, Tony would have probably died of starvation or at least failed all his classes.

He had taken incompletes in his classes, having spent much of the time in the hospital or the sports medicine clinic working hard to regain the full use of his knee, and had spent all winter break in a daze, realizing that no matter how hard he worked he would never again play football-competitively anyway.

It had been during his month long pity party that Tony had realized that maybe, he could somehow redeem his wasted life.

And naturally, since Tony loved to prove everyone wrong, his teachers from boarding and military school would probably faint from disbelief, he had decided to become a cop.

Tony was stupid if he didn't see the pattern. Patterns were something that they trained you to look out for.

And Tony followed the pattern.

As a kid, Tony hated alcohol. It had made his father into a man that would send his son off or at the least, forget him enough to leave him in alone in a hotel room by himself.

As a teenager and a young adult, Tony hadn't been fond of it but it was there and it always had a way of making things seem better.

At least for a few hours.

As an adult though, Tony didn't know where he stood with it.

It was a vice, a crutch used to get through the tough days- his mom's birthday or his own for that matter, and it helped. As much as anything could on those days anyway. His first few days without Jeanne or as Agent Afloat had been spent semi-buzzed, always using a small flask in his jacket pocket to stay that way.

Tony's father showing up and been a surprise. He hadn't seen him in over five years and the norm was usually once a decade so to receive two visits…

"What are you drinking?" his father had asked.

Tony had paused, glanced at his drink and responded, "Non-alcoholic beer."

His father had laughed, mentioned some side comment about law enforcement and Tony had agreed, silently wondering if he should have gotten an ice water instead.

At the end of the day, Tony had been roaming the isles of the liquor store, knowing that if he started drinking now, he wouldn't leave his apartment till Monday morning to go to work.

Then his phone had rung.

"Making dinner, bring the drinks."

Tony had gone to gracefully reject Gibbs' offer but the man had already hung up.

Tony had huffed in exasperation and grabbed his favorite type of beer.

Gibbs wouldn't mind.

"Non-alcoholic?" Gibbs said, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"Yep," Tony said, before opening another bottle.

Because alcohol was a tricky thing.

And as it turned out, Tony wasn't exactly like his father after all.