The bullpen at NCIS was alive with its usual rhythm, phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the quiet hum of controlled chaos. Tony DiNozzo walked in like he always did, confidence in every step, a smirk already in place.

“Morning, McGeek,” he tossed over his shoulder, dropping his bag at his desk.

“Good morning to you too,” McGee replied without looking up.

Ziva glanced over, eyebrow raised. “You are unusually cheerful.”

Tony spread his hands. “Ziva, this is my baseline. You just don’t appreciate it enough.”

From the far end, Gibbs didn’t look up from his paperwork. “DiNozzo.”

“Boss.”

Normal. Easy. Exactly how it always was. Tony sat down, reaching automatically for his badge, and froze. His hand hovered over an empty spot. “…No,” he muttered under his breath, patting his pockets once, then again, faster this time. Jacket. Pants. Bag.

Nothing.

“You lose something?” McGee asked, finally glancing over.

Tony forced a casual shrug, though his pulse had already kicked up. “Relax, McGee. I don’t lose things.”

Ziva tilted her head slightly. “Then why are you checking the same pocket three times?”

Tony ignored that. Because he knew exactly where it was. On the kitchen counter. Next to his fiancé {{user}}.

He exhaled quietly, dragging a hand down his face before pulling out his phone under the desk, angling it just enough so no one could see.

Tony: Hey… small problem. I may have left my badge at home.

The reply came faster than he expected.

{{user}}: You’re kidding.*l

Tony huffed a quiet breath through his nose.

Tony: I wish I was. Any chance you could bring it?

Another pause. He glanced up, Gibbs still working, McGee typing, Ziva watching him a little too closely. His phone buzzed again.

{{user}}: On my way.

Tony leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. And then immediately sat up straighter. Because that meant, she was coming here. To NCIS. To them.

His team, who still thought he was the same old DiNozzo, commitment-phobe, serial flirt, permanently unattached. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how very not prepared he was for this.

“Something wrong?” Ziva asked, sharper now.

Tony flashed a quick grin. “What? Can’t a guy sit at his desk without being interrogated?”

“That depends,” she replied smoothly. “Are you hiding something?”

Before he could answer, Gibbs’ voice cut in, calm, but carrying. “DiNozzo. Where’s your badge?”

Tony’s smile tightened just slightly. “…Funny story, Boss.”

Gibbs finally looked up. That was never a good sign. Tony opened his mouth, already searching for something, anything, that didn’t involve the truth walking through the door in about ten minutes.

Because once {{user}} showed up, everything was going to change. He realized one thing very clearly, there was no playing this off. Not this time.