"Hey, Timmy, join me for pizza and beer when you're done." Tony spoke quietly across the space between his and McGee's desk while they worked on their reports.

"Don't think I feel like it, Tony, thanks anyways." came the glum voice back to him.

"Not a request, McGee, I'm pulling rank here. Grab your gear, we're heading for Pontillos."

"Tony, I don't think you understand -"

"Ohh, but I do understand, McNavyBrat. Waayy more than you think. Come on, out we go, this way, and we're walking..."

Tony physically directed his partner into the elevator and punched the button for the parking garage without another word, not really in the mood to even listen to himself. The past few days had pressed a lot of his buttons, and he had so hoped that his unsavory childhood would have stayed buried for good. But it wasn't about him this time, so he needed to swallow the nasty taste left in his mouth from Admiral McGee's visit and lend some moral support to his friend.

"You can't make me come with you, Tony, I'm not on work time."

"I know that, Probie. I was hoping you'd come with me anyways."

"You...you were hoping I would come have pizza and beer with you?"

"Don't act so surprised, Timmy, you know I enjoy your company when you're not on your geek high horse."

"I'm supposed to take that as a compliment?" Tim barked , in no mood for Tony's sarcasm, or anyone else's. "Go back to Gibbs' basement, you can insult each other, it's what you're good at."

Well, this wasn't going the way Tony had planned. Switch to plan B, which was...well, he didn't actually have one. So he shut up, and truth be told, shut down. Silence was his reply to Tim's sharp tongue. He exited the elevator with a subdued "Good night, McGee." and headed for his car. McGee was a big boy now, he reasoned, he could lick his wounds just fine on his own.

"Tony, I'm sorry, I just -"

"Nah, it's okay, I understand, Tim. See you tomorrow."

McGee's shoulders sagged in defeat. Deep down he knew that Tony was sincere in wanting him to join him, but he was tired, and still a bit angry after feeling like he'd gotten jerked around by his father one more time, and in front of his colleagues, no less. He watched Tony climb into his car and slam the door, then exit the garage a bit too fast for safety's sake. Damn it, what was so hard about just saying yes to Tony's helpful gesture? Well, he still could, that was if DiNozzo ended up going to his favorite pizza joint after this. McGee dumped his backpack into the back seat and climbed in to follow Tony, hopefully catching up with him at Pontillo's.

Once at the pizza parlor, DiNozzo parked himself at his favorite booth and waited for his server. Everyone knew him there, knew his favorites, knew what to tell his boss to order when he was bribing, apologizing, or just nurturing his senior field agent after a hard day. Tony gazed out the window at the street traffic, and smiled a little when he saw McGee's car pull into the parking lot. Well, he'd have company, even if it was grouchy company. The waiter stirred him from his reveries, and he flashed a grin at the man.

"Carmen! How's it going, man? School working out okay for you?"

"Yeah, I'm doing fine, Tonio. Be finished in a couple of months, take a quick vacation, then join the 'family business', ya know?"

Tony laughed, knowing full well Carmen's 'family business' meant the pizzaria, where he would manage the books and finances with his new business degree.

"Good job, Carm. Bet your old man's pretty proud of you."

"Mmmm, well, he might be, but so far he hasn't said so. You know how it is, Tonio, he's not the best at telling ya things."

"You know he loves you though, right?"

"Oh yeah, sure, he just tells me that in different ways. Sort of like your old man there, Gibbs. You can tell."

"Huh, well, you must see what I don't, Carm." Dying to change the subject, he was glad for McGee standing there waiting to be invited to his booth. "C'mon, McGoo, siddown; Carmen, my usual, and whatever Tim wants, put it on my tab."

"Tony, you don't -"

"Tssht, I got it, McGee. I get a volume discount here, anyways."

McGee for once gave in to the wave that was Anthony DiNozzo.

"I'll have the lasagna with the side salad and garlic bread. Diet Pepsi on ice."

"Diet Pepsi, McGee? I mean, really?"

"Fine, alright, regular Pepsi."

"Just sayin', McCalorie. Not going to help much after eating the lasagna and garlic bread. So why'd you decide to join me?" Tony queried, grabbing up a straw and shredding the paper off from it.

"Felt kinda bad for being so cranky to you. Just so out of sorts from having the Admiral around. I feel like a ten year old again when he's around. Makes me so nervous, like I'm not doing anything right, you don't understand how hard it was to grow up with -"

"Someone who demanded more than you could ever give? Someone who once you finally reached where you thought he wanted you, just raised the bar higher, and then yanked the safety mat away? Nope, don't understand it one bit. I had a totally warm and wonderful childhood, Senior put Ozzie Nelson to shame."

McGee thought he might disappear down into his seat past the table top with the shame of realization. All of the times he had tormented and teased DiNozzo when Senior showed up out of nowhere with no warning and wreaked havoc in Tony's life, causing more stress and embarrassment to him in front of his boss. He had taken delight in his team mate's discomfort, openly gleeful at seeing Tony so off his game and in the cross hairs of Gibbs' wrath. He'd never really known the sordid details of DiNozzo's childhood and teen years, just that Tony's father had been neglectful and distant. Senior seemed like a harmless enough guy, just someone who had made some poor judgement calls throughout the years and now was trying in vain to make it up to a stubborn and spoiled son who couldn't forgive.

Hindsight was a bitch. Or a bastard, as the case may be with their fathers.

And Tony had gone out of his way the past few days not to pour salt into McGee's wounds, or rub his face in the fact that his old man could still have that much influence over him after all these years, after having become a federal agent who had made a name for himself on the premier major case response team of NCIS. DiNozzo had kept quiet and low-key, giving Tim space and taking his sharper than usual barbs in stride because God only knew that Tony knew what it all felt like.

"I – I - " McGee resorted to his nervous stammering while he tried to organize his thoughts. "I always thought you were exaggerating, Tony, cause you know, you have been known to do that a time or two."

"Yeah, well, not only was I not exaggerating, I left a hell of a lot of stuff out, too. Telling people about it now just makes me sound like a whiny schmuck who needs to get over himself. It wasn't pretty and I'm gonna leave it at that. What he did to me last Christmas, well, that was a line crossed that even Abby should have slapped him for. When she brought him back to MTAC I almost ran out of that room screaming."

"But you hugged him, you seemed happy he was back."

"It was Christmas Eve, Tiny Tim. You think I was going to make a scene and get into a brawl with him in front of all you guys? Hell, I was half furious at Abby and in shock at having to still be dealing with him. You could've had me hugging one of Ducky's autopsy guests and I wouldn't have known what the hell I was doing."

"I didn't know, Tony. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, Gibbs took me home to his place and got me plastered, let me vomit out some of my pent up anger, then waited outside the bathroom door the next morning while I rode the porcelain bus. Even the good stuff'll kill you if chugalug it like I did."

"I don't know what I would have done if that had happened to me, if my father had done what – I mean, he never would, he's way too uptight, and my mother would murder him, but – I don't know what I would have done."

"Same thing you and I have been doing for years – spend a few days trying to figure out where to hide his body, decide it's not worth it, and get back on with your life."

"Funny how we both have fathers who make us nervous wrecks."

"You think, McGee? I mean, do you really think it's just the two of us? Look at Gibbs when he's around his father. The man of steel starts acting like there's a gigantic ball of kryptonite following him around. If there was a club for guys who couldn't please their fathers, well, I think there would be a ton more members than non-members. Because really, is there a guy out there who has ever lived up to what he thought his father expected of him? It's not possible. Sons will never meet their father's great expectations, it's never been done. Well, I lie, it probably has, somewhere, in every generation, it could happen, but I bet it's rarer than hen's teeth. I bet if you took a poll anywhere, any time, on any street corner in the world, you would have a mob of weeping, teeth-gnashing, garment-rending men telling you their story. We're sure as hell not alone, McGee."

"So – how have you coped all these years, I mean – after how he treated you, you know, never being able to get his attention or approval?"

"I found my own bar, Timmy. I figured out what I was good at, what I liked to do, and then set some goals. I found out I had to be happy with me, and meet my own expectations. Some of them were great, some of them were pointless, but they were mine, and just kept working at them till I reached them. Then I set some more."

"But now you have Gibbs, I mean, he's like your dad now, and he seems to think you measure up."

Tony gave McGee an eerie smile that unsettled the younger man.

"Are you kidding me, McGoober?" Tony leaned in towards him. "I can count on the fingers of one hand when Gibbs made me feel like I'd lived up to his standards. And let's not forget his little Mexican sabbatical."

"You still haven't forgiven him for that, Tony?" There was no accusation in McGee's voice, just genuine surprise.

"I go in and out of forgiveness for that time, Tim. I know he'd had a rough time of it, but it didn't give him the right to single me out and treat me like dog shit on his boot. Let's just say I haven't forgotten it yet, and no, I probably never will. Anyways, that's just part of the point, McGee. What I'm trying to say is I learned a long time ago, that Gibbs was another goal post mover. Just when I'd get my kicking mojo going and get one in every time from the thirty, he'd move the posts into the bleachers."

"Then why do you keep working for him, I mean, you got lots of opportunities to transfer, Fornell would grab you for his team in a heartbeat!"

"Don't I know it. Thing of it is, my father was more like Lucy from Peanuts than Gibbs."

"Uh – yeah, okayyy."

"Lucy holds the ball for Charlie Brown to kick, and swears every time she won't pick it up before he kicks it, and Chuck believes her. She's doing it out of spite, just cause she can, cause it's hysterical to her to see Chuck land on his back with the wind knocked out of him. That's my father."

"And Gibbs?"

"Gibbs moves the goalposts to make me a better kicker. At least he thinks that's what he's doing, that he's helping me improve my game."

"Isn't he?"

"Depends. On how tired I am, on how much he's used me in the game already, on whether or not my leg is sore from too much kicking. Sometimes he pushes to hard to get the field goal, just cause he can. Not always, but when he does, that's when we start butting heads, and I try giving him a reality check."

"Pretty complicated, even after all these years."

"And so you see my point, McGee. Trying to find the key to being a good son without wanting to murder your dad. Especially our dads. That includes Gibbs. Who is our mutual Dad. Like, step-dad. Or something. What I'm trying to say, McBro, is to not let them take over your life or your pysche. It will eat away at your soul until you're just a walking, mumbling zombie. You have to find some kind of a balance, Tim. Be his son, but be your own man. Find your own rules and live by them, find everything you like about yourself and learn to love it about yourself. That way when they move the goalposts or grab up the football, or in your case, the gang plank to the ship, you've got a cushion, or for you, a life preserver."

McGee was looking at Tony in a way the older agent had never seen. It made him feel just a bit uncomfortable.

"Don't look so surprised, McShocked. I may have a masochistic streak in me, but my survival instinct is spot on a mile wide. I wouldn't be here talking to you if it wasn't. Maui wasn't the only place my father forgot and left me. RIMA wasn't a frat house, and boarding school put both Senior and Gibbs to shame when it came to messing with my head. Add to that three police departments that all resented me for coming from money and thought I'd bought my way into the job, especially my detective's shield.

"Didn't make for warm and fuzzy feelings. Spent a bit of time looking over my shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Same way when I came here, till Gibbs put the boot to it. First guy to have my six since my college teammates. And they only had it out on the field."

"Tonio, here's your beer and your appetizer plate, Timmy, your lasagna is almost ready, here's your Pepsi, giant size."

"Alright, Carmen, thanks, looks great, as usual!"

"You're welcome, Tonio! And tell your boss I said hello and thank him for the donation to the youth center fund, we're buying a new wide screen for movie nights with it."

"Ha, I told him that's what you should do with it! I'll throw in some movies for it, let me know when you buy it."

"Got anyone to hook it all up, cause you got surround sound and the whole sha-bang, right, Carmen?"

"Sure did. Know anyone who's good at that stuff? I just crunch numbers, not wires and speakers."

McGee looked at Tony and back to Carmen. He had never done any volunteering before, save for the time he was supposed to help Abby on that Habitat for Humanity project and forgot about it. When he wasn't working he found himself glued to his typewriter, trying new venues for best sellers and using the thought process to crowd out anything sinister that preyed on his mind, including how close or far away he was to being what the Admiral ordered.

"I'd be happy to do it for you, Carmen. Tell me when and where, and I'll come out some night after work or one of my days off."

"Good, good, Timmy, I'll bring pizza and wings, you can meet some of the kids, I think they'd like learning some computer skills, maybe you can get them interested in going to school for some classes."

"Yeah, maybe! I'll talk to them about it, find out what's out there for beginner classes and financial aid."

"There ya go, McGenious, use some of your mojo for something other than Tommy and Lisa."

"Tony, you know I don't write them anymore."

"I know, Tim, I'm teasing you. Come on, help me eat these skins and mushrooms before they get cold. I'm hungry, but I can't eat all these and pizza."

"Sure." McGee agreed, digging in to the big plate in the middle of the table with gusto. He stopped after a few mushrooms and gave his teammate a serious look. "Thanks, Tony. For – wanting to help me, and succeeding. And for -well, sharing what you shared with me to help me."

"Yeah, about that, McGossip. All that is between you and me. No one else has to hear it."

"You got it, Tony. No one else."

"Consider yourself lucky, McGee. Gibbs usually has to get four or five beers into me before I blab out that much information. Not gonna happen again, at least till the next time your old man shows up on our doorstep. Guess it's Senior's turn now. God only knows what he's gonna do next to send me 'round the bend."

"Well, I'll have your six this time, Tony, I promise."

"Good to know, Timmy. Now let's figure out what movies I should buy for the youth center. Goes without saying, Lord of the Rings trilogy, right? Now what else..."

the end -