[identity profile] ex-nilahasi174.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] ncisficathon
Title: Allegro, Accelerando, Adagio
Author: [livejournal.com profile] nilahasi
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] lastasalways
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Hiatus 1 & 2
Genre: Brief het, mentions of slash (in my head, this is a slash story)
Pairing: Tony/OFC, the idea of Tony/OMC and Tony/Gibbs
Word Count: 1488
Summary: A look at Tony in high school, with the girl he’s dating and the coach he can’t keep his eyes off of, and Tony post-Hiatus (spoilers).
Request: A view of Tony's first love, preferably slash but whatever's fine, and how it ended.
Author’s Note: Many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] teddibear for the quick beta. Also, my very, very sincere apology to both [livejournal.com profile] lastasalways and [livejournal.com profile] rinkle for being so late with this fic.




Tony’s heart was pounding almost double time to the rhythm of his sneakers slapping against the gym floor. To his right, Peter Cochran jogged alongside, face red with exertion.

“So I heard some scouts are checking you out,” Peter said, glancing at Coach O’Bryan, oblivious in the center of the court.

Tony dropped his head and smiled. “Yeah, maybe. I think I heard something like that.”

“Man, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Peter grinned. “You know who they’re from?”

“I have no clue,” Tony lied, watching O’Bryan in the middle of the floor, back straight as an arrow as he scribbled on a clipboard. “Probably some junior college or something, I don’t know.”

Peter nodded, and then as he cast his eyes up, he saw Tony watching the coach. Tony’s eyes flicked immediately to the scoreboard, and they jogged in silence for a while.

“I’ll tell you what I do know,” Tony offered, grinning.

Peter grinned back. “What’s that?”

“Brandi Cook’s parents think she’s spending the night after prom with Jessica, and I’ve already reserved a room at the conference center.”

Peter’s jaw dropped open. “You dog!”

“Specialty suite,” Tony continued. “We’re talking minibar, satin sheets, Jacuzzi.”

“How the hell did you reserve a room without your parents knowing?” Peter demanded, staring at Tony, and there it was in Peter’s eyes—awe, admiration.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “What my dad doesn’t know right now won’t hurt him, and by the time the charge comes in, he won’t be able to do anything about it.” If he notices it at all, Tony added silently to himself.

“Your dad’s gonna kill you when he finds out,” Peter muttered. “Man, you must really like Brandi, huh?”

“It must be love, right?” Tony answered, watching Coach O’Bryan as he raised the whistle around his neck to his lips and blew.

*****
“All right, guys, gather around,” Coach called. Immediately, the twelve boys on the court quit their drills and jogged over to the middle of the gym.

“Drills looked good today,” O’Bryan began. “We just have a couple more days of practice before Holybrook, and they’re not going to be an easy team to beat. Get sharp, people.”

O’Bryan stopped, and glanced at Tony. “And I know that most of you have heard the rumors, and yes, there will be scouts in the audience. But that’s not gonna do any of you any good if you spend more time thinking about the scouts than the game.”
The boys murmured their understanding, and Tony nodded. “All right, guys, get home, get some sleep, and have a good day of school tomorrow. I’ll see you back here at 3:30 sharp.”

All the other boys nodded and shuffled away, walking out in twos and threes, but Tony stayed.

“You need a hand getting the equipment together?” Tony asked, already walking toward a pile of basketballs rolling loose on the gym floor.

“Sure,” O’Bryan called, grabbing the mesh equipment bag from the floor. As he reached Tony, the coach held out the bag. “You know, it’s really great of you to stay and help, but I can take care of this. You don’t have to always stay.”

Tony dropped a couple of balls into the bag, bent down, and grabbed a couple more. “Yeah, I know that,” he said, and maybe his finger brushed Coach’s hand as he dropped the other balls into the bag. “I’m just being a good boy, the way my mother taught me.”

“Besides,” he added, dumping the last few basketballs into the bag, “it’s not like any of those other slackers stick around to help, right?”

Coach O’Bryan smiled a little smile, strung up the bag, and began walking toward his office. “You know, Tony, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

“I know about the scouts, Coach,” Tony said, jogging over. “And, you know, it’s really flattering that O.S.U. wants to take a look at me, but I’m headed to Florida. I’m gonna be a Gator, like you, right? Just a couple years since you won the championship and graduated, right?”

O’Bryan, reaching his office, slung the equipment bag down and settled down in his desk chair. “Yes, O.S.U. is sending scouts—and I’m still going to try to get you to give them a chance, because they do have a good team, Tony—but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Tony leaned back against the cool concrete wall, slouching just right, one hip out. “You’re gonna visit me when I get to Florida, right?” he asked, brushing a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes.

Across the room, O’Bryan was—not quite scowling, but not smiling, either, and looking away, toward the framed pictures spotting the walls. Tony took the moment to study the man: his fingers, the smooth lips, tiny beautiful creases at the corners of his eyes—Only a few years older than I am, Tony thought, and in less than a month I’m out of here anyway—and it could happen, it could.

“Out on the town,” Tony offered, “just a couple of guys drinking—”

“Tony, you’re in high school, you’re seventeen—” O’Bryan broke off, and sighed. “I’ve been offered a position at Greenbriar High for next year, and I’m taking it. I haven’t told the team yet—I wanted to wait until after this week’s game to let them know.”

For just a moment, the smile cleared from Tony’s face, and then it was back quick as a flash. “That’s great, Coach. Sounds like a good opportunity.”

O’Bryan watched Tony, measured his smile. “I just wanted to let you know—I feel like sort of a mentor to you, Tony. Watching you grow, take over the team. This has nothing to do with you guys—it’s just an opportunity I can’t pass up.”

“No, Coach, really, I understand, I do,” Tony said. His smile deepened, not quite right. “I’m still going to Florida, though.”

O’Bryan sighed. “I’m sure you are,” he said, smiling. “Just give Ohio a chance. They have a great team. I think you’d like it there.”

“I’ll do that, Coach,” Tony said, peeling himself away from the wall. “Gotta head out, though, I think Brandi’s waiting on me. See you tomorrow.”

And Tony was right—as he walked out of Coach O’Bryan’s doorway, gathering his backpack from a dark corner, he saw Brandi peeking in through the gym doors. When she noticed that she’d caught his eye, she waved. Tony made sure he was smiling that smile and casually raised his hand and waggled a couple of fingers in greeting.

As soon as he’d walked through the door, Brandi’s arms were around his neck, and she kissed him on the lips, quickly. “You smell pretty gross,” she admitted, pulling back and peering around the hall. “I still love you, though,” she added lightly.

Brandi strung her fingers through Tony’s, and they walked down the deserted halls.

“You too, darlin’,” Tony lied. And then: “Hey, did you hear about the scouts coming to Friday’s game? They’re here to check me out.”

“That’s because you’re so hot,” Brandi giggled, flipping her hair. “I’ll bring a big sign that says Tony DiNozzo is my boyfriend,” she said.

It was easy for Tony to smile back. “I’ll bring you flowers, doll,” he said, squeezing her hand lightly. Girls liked flowers. “I’ll shower you with lavender roses.”

*****

Tony sits in the darkened office, hours after the rest of his team has left. The ghostly light from his computer monitor floods his face. The report he’s writing is half-finished, the cursor blinking as, “Shots were fired, but none of the team were injured” sits incomplete.

Tony’s leaning back from his desk, glaring at the words on the screen. Buried deep inside his desk are Gibbs’s gun and badge, and the countless medals that he’s saved and God, how many times has he thought about throwing them all in the trash?

The janitors have come and gone, and everything is quiet. It’s only now, in the full darkness that surrounds him, an errant street lamp casting beams onto the floor, that Tony lets the mask fall.

I can’t believe you, he types, and then gains momentum. I can’t believe you, you bastard, how you could leave after everything—and Kate is dead, she’s dead and you’re such a fucking quitter, Gibbs, I hate you, you left us all here and you just quit and you didn’t give us any time and I think I may have loved you

Tony’s fingers rest on the keys as he watches the cursor blink in and out, and then he’s pressing the backspace button, watching with satisfaction as the cursor eats the words, whites them out until he’s back to where he left off: “none of the team were injured.”

Tony rubs his eyes and sighs, a heavy noise in an empty space.

Date: 2006-09-25 10:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] teddibear.livejournal.com
Hee, nicely done hun! But I just saw two mistakes I missed while doing that lightning fast beta: awe, admiration, AND respect (you left that out somehow) and Tony stayed BEHIND. Also for the scouts, it should be "where" they're from not "who." I think.

I so love this idea. Thanks for making it a reality. :)

*smooch* I hope your fic-a-thon receiver enjoyed it :)

Date: 2006-09-26 07:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] teddibear.livejournal.com
*snerk* Isn't that how it ALWAYS is? And hey I beta-ed in ten minutes. I knew I'd miss something! Doh.

*hugs*

Date: 2006-09-25 04:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] periwinkle27.livejournal.com
I like the idea too. :)

I feel TB's pain -- I always find the mistakes in the story after it's posted. And I agree that it's "where" not "who."

I love the way that you had the coach say he was a mentor. That segued beautifully into the second half.

Lovely writing.

Date: 2006-09-26 08:13 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] periwinkle27.livejournal.com
I just got the prompts for my Yuletide story and thought of you because they are all simple nouns. You would like them.

I don't think there is a single story of mine out there that doesn't have at least three typos in it.

Date: 2006-09-26 04:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chelletoo.livejournal.com
Sad. Poor Tony. He doesn't get who he wants.

Date: 2006-09-30 11:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] canetr.livejournal.com
I like this story...Tony angst is always good.

Small question though... isn't Tony's college sport football (quarterback as per S.W.A.K.) as opposed to basketball?

Date: 2008-10-26 02:06 am (UTC)

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