Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Sadly, they belong to some other people. I may have (meaning I have) referenced Hamlet and RENT at one point or another.
AN: I wrote this fic a couple of weeks ago. Since my birthday is tomorrow, I decided to post it. I'll probably have all 6 chapters up by Sunday night. Enjoy! & Reviews are wonderful to wake up to :))
She should have known better than to leave her umbrella at home. Damn NCIS and its limited parking space, which has her parked 3 blocks away from the office. Inside the dry haven of her car, Kate weighs down her options – wait for the storm to subside and ultimately be late or run against the rain current (like a salmon fish in Washington, DC) and undoubtedly ruin her outfit. Of course, this must happen on her birthday, when her hair is somewhat nice and she has spent more than 5 minutes getting dressed. Large drops of rain hit the windshield, merciless, much like blunt force trauma; each drop has its own source, a punctuated tap on the glass surface, but then it spreads inside out from its center, blurring her view. Then again, an umbrella won't exactly help when a storm is raging.
Ten minutes later, Kate is finally at her desk, glad to be the only one in the office – for now at least. She gathers and twists her soaking hair, because a 200m jog under the rain tends to do that to you.
"Looking good, Kate," Tony greets her and she can feel his gaze, scrutinizing her dripping clothing. It is sufficient to say that her blazer – and her skirt for that matter – is a couple shades darker than the teal green it used to be under drier conditions. Kate all but grunts in response, head under her desk on the lookout for her Nikes. They are just for unfortunate days like today, or whenever Gibbs feels particularly grumpy and not appreciative of her choice in shoes. Her own ballet flats are a practical joke, really; she can't take two steps without making this annoying, squawking noise.
"You going on a date tonight, Kate?" Tony presses, feet propped on his desk as he looks over his flustered co-worker.
"Like I would tell you, Tony," she shoots back, tying her shoes because damn, if anyone can rock business casual and tennis shoes, it's Kate Todd. Besides, Gibbs might show up anytime now and she'd better be ready.
"Is it another one of my frat bros, Kate? Steve told me you guys broke it off –"
"Tony, this is none of your business," Kate snaps at him, full-on this time, taking a sip of her coffee, a look of surprise crossing her face at the realization that someone has bought her coffee. The bitter taste kind of affirms the idea there is no such thing as free lunch, but whatever. She gulps it down, nonetheless, a frown scrunching her brow.
"Outrageous, I know, Kate. No more questions, promise," he grins at her, mistaking her expression for anger. Leaning back in his chair, he hums to himself, a very distinguishable phrase catching her ear – outrageous, outrageous. Before a slap renders him speechless, the skin of his neck reddening in an instant.
"Sorry, boss. I'm on it, boss."
Kate can't help but giggle at Tony's change of behavior.
"Morning, Gibbs," she laughs, but he is merely a passing vigilante. A slap, a walk by his desk to pick up a folder and he's gone.
CafPow in hand, Kate takes the elevator down to the Forensics Lab. It is not bribery (this time around). They've been working hard on a case since yesterday with little to no progress. Were it not for Abby's DNA analysis, which slowly but surely is yielding results, they would have nothing.
Once in the lab, Kate is not surprised to find Abby and McGee sitting side by side, their joint effort creating a symphony in and of itself. Slurp tap tap tap slurp tap tap tap
Kate calls out to them, but her voice is lost amidst their concentration and with a shake of the head, she simply replaces the empty cup with the newly filled one, finally capturing Abby's attention.
"Kate!" she exclaims, springing up to her feet and pulling her in for a tight hug. Way too much CafPow, McGee and Kate agree over a muted exchange of raised eyebrows.
"Happy birthday, Kate!" Abby chirps to Kate's surprise because honestly, she wasn't expecting anyone to remember that it's her birthday.
Before Kate can say anything, Abby runs off to the other end of the room, fishing something out of her black messenger bag.
"Happy birthday, Kate," McGee smiles at her, lacking Abby's vigor, yet he is sincere in his own, shy, Probie kind of way.
"Thanks, Tim."
Once Abby returns, Kate can make out what she's been holding in her hand: a simple, black velvet drawstring bag. In silence, Kate takes it, unsuspecting of what's inside and very eager to find out. One look is enough.
"You made me a mix tape?" Kate manages, a smile tugging at her lips. It's inconceivable how a tiny gesture like this one, can render her at a loss for words. It just means a lot. And you know, even on the rainiest of days, there is a possibility for joy, especially if you have a friend like Abby.
"Thank you, Abby! What's on it?"
"Oh, I'm not telling you, Kate. You just have to listen and find out for yourself," Abby retorts with a smirk, her eyebrow shooting straight up. Then another idea pops up in her mind and of all things, she urges,
"Sing McGee, come on! Happy birthday to you –"
There is no way he can say no to that – call it peer pressure if you must – so when Abby starts in a song, he joins her, a little timid at first, but with her growing cheerfulness, he, too, becomes louder. Loud enough not to hear the approaching footsteps.
"McGee!" A sharp call blown down the junior agent's neck is enough of a shock and Tim's voice catches in his throat – the rest is silence.
"No fun, Gibbs," Abby protests but only meets his trademark stare, successfully covering for the tiny smile no one else saw but the backside of McGee's head.
"What do you have for me, Abby?" his voice ascertains authority even in its quietness.
"Not much, Gibbs, not much," she muses, though a certain playfulness is evident in her tone. But that's just Abby. If anyone can get away with teasing Gibbs, it's her.
"Abs – " Please, he signs, as to avoid a verbal plea.
"I mean it, Gibbs. I need 6+ hours to finish this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to extract DNA from bone?" Abby is now pouting; even a kiss on the cheek doesn't eradicate her frown. Gibbs lingers close to her face, whispering in her ear, "You've got 4."
"Come on, Kate," he says, already heading for the exit.
"Thanks again, Abs. Let's meet up for lunch, okay?" Kate offers, aware that her word count is limited, and despite wanting to say more, she follows Gibbs out of the lab.