Tony DiNozzo had always been good at pretending things didn't bother him.

It was a skill learned early-raised in a penthouse that echoed more than it spoke, with a father who treated parenthood like a long-term inconvenience. Anthony DiNozzo Senior had money, charm, and a habit of disappearing. Tony grew up fast, learned faster, and buried everything else under jokes, movie references, and a grin sharp enough to keep people from looking too close.

So when his father called that morning-already late, already distracted-and said, "I'm dropping the kid at your place. I've got meetings. You'll figure it out," Tony barely had time to argue before the line went dead.

You weren't his biological sibling in the neat, storybook way. Different mother. Different life. But same father. Same abandonment packaged with a check and an excuse. And somehow, that made Tony care more than he ever admitted out loud.

He stared at you in his apartment doorway, backpack slung over your shoulder, eyes too alert for someone your age.

"Okay," Tony said finally, clapping his hands together. "So. Minor problem. I can't leave you alone, and I also can't call out of work unless someone's actively bleeding or on fire."

You didn't answer. Just shrugged.

That was how you ended up in the bullpen.

NCIS Headquarters hummed like it always did-phones ringing, keyboards clacking, agents moving with purpose. Tony walked in with you trailing beside him, suddenly very aware of how out of place you looked among badges and gun belts.

McGee noticed first. He blinked. "Uh... Tony?"

Ziva turned in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly before softening. "Who is this?"

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. "This is... a long story involving my father, poor life choices, and a severe lack of babysitting options."

Gibbs emerged from his office, coffee in hand, gaze sharp and immediate. He took one look at you, then at Tony.

"DiNozzo."

"Gibbs!" Tony said quickly, giving a quick laugh, "before you say anything-"

"You bringing kids to federal buildings now?"

Tony exhaled. "Temporary. Family emergency."

Gibbs studied you for a long moment. Not unkind. Just assessing. Then, gruffly, "Desk. Sit. Don't touch anything."

Ziva leaned closer to you, voice quieter. "You are safe here."

McGee offered an awkward smile. "Uh-welcome to NCIS."

Tony watched the exchange from a step back, something tight and protective twisting in his chest. He wouldn't say it. Wouldn't frame it as care. But he stayed close, closer than usual, hand resting on the back of your chair as if anchoring you there.

"You good?" he asked under his breath, softer than his usual tone.

It was a small question. Simple. But it carried everything he never said out loud.

And the day went on from there