One of these days, folks, I'm going to have to break down and get a life, including a job, but until then, I'll keep cranking them out. Hope you enjoy. Not beta'd, all boo-boos are mine and Tony's.

Based on the title of the really fun old Jerry Lewis/Darren McGavin film about an older cop who takes a rookie under his wing to help him through the Academy.

LeRoy Jethro Gibbs had always prided himself on a lot of things; being shy about your abilities, God-given or otherwise, didn't lend itself to making a living as a Marine Corps sniper, Black Ops agent, or lead agent for a federal criminal investigative service. One of those skills, perhaps the most important one of them all, was the ability to read people. And he was quite sure he had Baltimore Detective Anthony DiNozzo all figured out – cocky, brash, and fairly shallow, wildly unorthodox, but one of the most extraordinary blood hounds he had ever encountered. And he needed one, badly. His current team couldn't seem to nose out a ribeye if it was tied around their necks.

He had no doubt he had talked DiNozzo into following him to D.C as soon as the kid could fill out his

'kiss my ass as I'm leaving' paperwork, and had warned Human Resources ahead of time to expect him and what to expect of him. He had been surprised to find out from them that DiNozzo had not only been polite and cooperative, but a also a perfect gentleman. No off-color jokes, no sexist remarks. Odd. Gibbs had been certain that after over five years as a police detective in three major cities, the kid's crude meter no longer had an off-switch. Well, score one for DiNozzo. But then again, he could have just been 'under cover' as a sophisticated young man to make a good impression on the ladies and the company in general.

No matter either way, like him or not, DiNozzo was only there to impress Gibbs, and on occasion, Director Morrow; what the rest of the building thought of him was of no concern to the team lead. He needed to get back on top of the heap or he was going to lose a bet with FBI agent Tobias Fornell about who had the best reputation and solve rate. And his numbers were low. As far as his reputation, well, that was all but hopeless, he was either despised or feared by pretty well all of the agents in the building, and probably a few cafeteria workers. His solve rate was what was important, and right now, and for the past several months, it sucked. DiNozzo was his new hope, and not only was he not going to 'waste good', he was going to find every hidden or raw talent that boy from Baltimore had and spin it into gold, whatever it took.

Barely in D.C for two days, Gibbs had DiNozzo at the firing range to scope out his skills there, and make mental notes about improving his weak points. It turned out the kid had very few, if any. He was proficient with several calibers and not bad at all with his non-dominant hand for accuracy. Gibbs figured DiNozzo could probably toss hand grenades efficiently if he ever had the need, and wondered if it was a carry-over from what he'd learned playing college football, or if he'd done well in football because of innate skills. Didn't know, didn't care. One less thing to have to teach the guy. Granted, DiNozzo would be in the FLETC program and would be learning by the book what was expected of him, but Gibbs expected even more. So often, even after a rigorous week of training at FLETC, Gibbs had his probie in the gym or at his desk familiarizing him with cold cases. The kid appeared to eat it up at first, seeming to enjoy the extra attention from his new boss. By week three, the shit hit the proverbial fan, and it took Gibbs a day or two to figure out what the hell had hit him.

He had noticed DiNozzo getting more reserved, making fewer jokes and comments, and he'd chalked it up to fatigue. FLETC wasn't high school, or even community college, it was both physically and mentally intensive and challenging, and even though the kid had a definite advantage with his detective and military academy background, it was never assumed a candidate knew all there was to know about a subject. In this new age of computers, forensics were constantly adding new pieces to the game board, and what was relevant even last month, could possibly be archaic today. And Tony was smart enough to know that there was a lot of stuff in between the new and the old that just hadn't been available to him at any of his police departments, and aimed to absorb every bit of information anyone offered him that would add to his crime-solving skills. And he sure as hell knew that Gibbs had enough experience under his belt to last a life-time of teaching. But it seemed to be all the man was interested in.

Not that Tony was expecting bar-hanging and Sunday football games with the man, he wasn't, and wasn't even sure he wanted to do either with Gibbs. But he was getting the distinct feeling that he was merely a spoke in Gibbs' power wheel. He wasn't deaf to the scuttlebutt, and he certainly couldn't miss the almost rabid look in his boss's eyes when the man explained what he expected of him, and how important it was for Tony to be the best, in everything. There was no doubt Tony was being groomed, but for what, he wasn't sure. Back in Baltimore, it had all seemed to make sense, that he and Gibbs had met for a reason, that maybe he was finally done banging his head against the wall trying to land somewhere between damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

Tony was having a hard time admitting to himself that he had allowed a part of his psyche to believe that Gibbs' only agenda in inviting him to D.C was to get him away from what had become an intolerable situation and offer him a new start on a federal team. But his exhausted body, and old street sense were telling him something different now. Gibbs had chosen him as his secret weapon, his super soldier in his bid for top dog at the agency. And as much as DiNozzo understood competition and and striving to be the best, this went deeper than that for his boss, and Anthony DiNozzo, Jr wasn't fond of getting used or played, even by the best. Chances are if he was let in on the game instead of being used and made to look like a putz, he would give more than his all to win it.

But he was still an outsider, even on Gibbs' supposedly 'elite' team, and it felt like he was good enough to play starting quarterback, but not be considered popular enough to be invited to join in the after-game revelry, or even the half-time pep talk. His boss had been less than effusive with his praise of anything Tony had accomplished since he'd started working and training, in fact it seemed as if his efforts were never enough for the man. Worse yet, the other veteran members of Gibbs' team went out of their way to amuse themselves at his expense, and all but flat out told him to go back to Baltimore and stay there. Gibbs seemed to be blind to it, or worse, didn't give a damn if he did see it happening.

He didn't know how lucky he was that Tony not only wasn't a quitter, but had burned one too many bridges to be able to walk away from what he'd started.

But that didn't mean that DiNozzo had to continue to be a doormat. Just because Gibbs had been the one to invite him to join the agency and his team, didn't mean Tony had to stay with Team Gibbs. He hadn't formed anything other than a healthy respect for Gibbs concerning the man's inner core of semper fi and justice for all. He took everything else at face value, knowing how mercurial the man ran and that what pleased him one day could anger him the next. DiNozzo was all too familiar with that personality type, and never allowed himself to expect much from mentors or authority figures with that sort of temperament. He could work for just about anybody, tuning out what irked him and concentrating on only what he needed to hear and understand to get the job done. Whether or not he worked for Gibbs didn't mean a whole lot, as long as he was still employed as an NCIS special agent.

So the second night into the third week when Gibbs had told Tony they were going to train in the gym,

he thought he had heard wrong, or perhaps not made himself clear when DiNozzo stood up from his desk, grabbed his back pack, and told the man "No."

Gibbs spun around from his march to the elevator, expecting to see a grin on his Probie's face and then hear a 'Just kiddin', Boss, wanted to see what you'd actually do." It wasn't at all what he found. Tony's eyes flared with something Gibbs hadn't seen in them before, and for a moment he was at a loss to even begin to fathom as to why it was there. But he recovered quickly, the Marine in him re-grouping and going on the defensive.

"You just tell me 'no', DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, Gibbs." Tony sighed tiredly. "I gotta get some sleep. I gotta have a decent meal. I can't run just on caffeine like you do. I'm going home."

"You wimpin' out on me, DiNozzo? Cause I got a whole stack of people waitin' to get on this team."

Tony had no idea if the man was blowing smoke or giving him a real ultimatum. But he sure didn't like being called a wimp after all the extra work he'd just put out for the man, and he was really, really tired, and needed a good solid plate of food. He was thinking surf and turf, and the salad bar at the restaurant he'd just discovered. Heading for the elevator, he met up with the huffing team lead and looked him straight in the eye.

"Well, I'm happy for ya, Gibbs, maybe you and Vivian can peruse them over coffee and danish. I'm getting something to eat and going to bed."

Half expecting the man to lay him out cold, Tony was surprised when he made it to the elevator unscathed and smashed the call button. He wasn't surprised to hear the man steam up behind him, anger radiating off from him in waves.

"I told ya to meet me in the gym, Special Agent DiNozzo, what part of that order did you not hear?"

The elevator doors opened and Tony slid in, hoping they would close on the man behind him. No such luck. Gibbs ducked in and slammed the emergency break switch, bringing the car to a jerking halt. What the hell? Was he allowed to do that?

"You got a problem with me, Duh -nozzo?" Gibbs barked, getting in his agent's face like a drill instructor. Tony closed his eyes, too far out of it from exhaustion to even care if the man decked him. Actually, it would be kind of nice, he could sleep soundly for a while, maybe even get out of classes for the next day. Sorry, can't make it in, my crazy-ass boss broke my nose last night cause I wouldn't go to the gym and let him toss me around the mats like a bull dog with a chew toy.

"Didn't realize I was in the Corps, Gibbs. Wanna back out of my space a little?" The man was stomping on his last nerve, and as tired as he was, Tony was pretty sure he could pull out a move fast and hard enough to bring Gibbs up short. Gibbs must have read it in his eyes, because he did back off, a good foot from the younger man.

"You think I'm workin' ya too hard, DiNozzo?"

"I think you've got a bigger agenda than I realized back in Baltimore." Tony told him in a level voice.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're trying to make me into something big and bad for your own purposes, and while I don't mind improving myself and broadening my horizons, I like to know exactly where I'm going with it and why I'm doing it. I'm already giving a hundred and ten percent at FLETC, which is all I'm obligated to be doing right now."

"So that's what ya want, DiNozzo?" Gibbs goaded. "Just to do the minimum this place expects of ya? Cause I could've found a dozen people right here in this building who are real good at that if that's what I wanted."

"I'm sure you could, Gibbs. And I can find another lead agent who isn't using me to climb back to the top of the heap in this dog pile."

Tony couldn't quite believe his eyes, but the man before him actually deflated a bit, his shoulders sinking forward just slightly.

"Don't think I don't want to be on a winning team, Gibbs, I'm all about winning. But I want to do it for the right reasons, not so I can jerk people around a little harder to get what I need. If all I wanted to do was win and be a big shot, I could have gone on to coach in the big college leagues, I had what it took, and enough connections. And I may seem delicate to you right now, but frankly I've been running on fumes all week, and you won't get shit out of me if I drop over dead from an aneurysm. I know why I'm here, Gibbs. You have to figure out why you want me on your team. If you're looking for a super-soldier, you brought back the wrong guy from Baltimore. Let me know by tomorrow so I can start looking for a different team if I need to."

Gibbs was still staring at his agent, and Tony knew he was being studied and judged, and again, he was too tired to care anymore about the answers. Tomorrow was a new day, and as much as he admired Gibbs' take 'no prisoners till it's solved' attitude, the man wasn't the only decent lead agent to work for at the agency, and maybe he'd even find one that didn't smack him in the head, because to tell the truth, he was not quite up to that little gesture right now, and if the man even thought of trying it, he'd be going home with broken fingers.

Instead, Gibbs turned around and flicked the emergency switch off and the box bolted and jumped, nearly jarring Tony off his half-aware feet.

"Where ya goin' for dinner?" Gibbs asked casually, as if they hadn't just been at each other's throats.

"That steak house across the street from the sports arena." Tony told him, just as casually, though a big part of his nonchalance came from the fog of being trapped in an elevator with Jethro Gibbs and half asleep to boot. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't drive, but he knew that once he hit the cool evening air and then got some real food in his stomach, he'd perk up well enough to drive back to his hotel. Gibbs' next question snapped him out of his funk before they even hit the parking garage.

"Mind if I join ya? Could use a good steak and potato. Go ahead, I'll go back and get my keys and jacket and meet you there."

"Yeah. Sure. Good!" Tony burbled, having to stop himself from adding, 'It's a free country, you can eat wherever you want, Gibbs.'

But as Tony was pulling into the parking lot of his hotel later that night, having spent a couple hours talking, and listening to more than grunts from Gibbs, he smiled to himself, relieved to have gotten the man to lighten up on him, and more than a little proud of himself for shocking the man into stillness by not only figuring out his motives, but calling him on it, too. It had taken until dessert, but Gibbs had finally admitted he'd had less than honorable intentions when he'd invited DiNozzo to come work for him at NCIS. Yes, he had wanted to get Tony out of that nightmare of a partner situation before the mud had a chance to cover the young man, but the more he got to know Tony and get a good look at his potential, the plot had started to formulate in his head, and in typical obsessive - Gibbs fashion, he had lost a bit of perspective on his original goal. And that goal was, he had told DiNozzo, 'to finally have someone worth training up' on his team, someone who could not only keep up with him, but wouldn't give up when things got tough.

He'd even admitted to Tony he was actually impressed with his standing up to him back in the bullpen and the elevator, and that he was the first agent on his team to ever dare do it. Of course that didn't mean he was getting a free pass to do it whenever he felt like it, but they both knew that DiNozzo knew better than that without saying.

And now freshly showered , his belly full, and his mind a lot more at ease now that he'd gotten on a little better footing with his new boss, he flopped into the hotel bed, and got the first good night's sleep he'd had since hitting the city limits. Tomorrow, at least, he wouldn't have to go looking for another team. He wasn't sure what the rest of the week held, but if he survived it, and Gibbs gave him his space like he'd promised to, he figured he might just actually hang around for a while.