Defining an Idyll
Thunder cracked outside and quick flashes of lightning followed in rapid succession, sizzling and hissing so quickly that they seemed to chain saw through the dark.
Ziva slammed back against her chair and then glanced around self consciously, but no one had focused on her response. She steadied herself and then tried to appear calm.
Abby and Ducky both had gone to the kitchen window to peer out as the torrential rain began, and there they remained, witnessing the storm from scientific perspectives.
Gibbs sat at the dining table finishing his dessert, pecan pie and a cup of coffee, along with his dad, Jack.
Jimmy Palmer and Tim McGee checked their phones nervously to obtain the most current local weather updates.
Tony loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and straightened, biting his bottom lip as his gaze followed Abby and Ducky's out the window. Turning back, he added the detergent and locked the appliance, then hit the power button.
The rush of dishwater and the motor engaging from the dishwasher could not cover up the sounds from outside.
The storm raged.
Another crack seemed to split the night sky with its deafening reverberations, and the kitchen occupants really came alive at that one.
Ducky spoke decisively, "Everyone get away from the windows and metal objects post haste. Tony, don't draw any more water. I don't trust lightning at its quietest, and certainly not when it demands this much attention from its audience."
Clapping loudly he ordered, "Now, not later!"
The group nodded agreeably and made its way towards the living room.
Abby looked around the space thoughtfully and then met Tony's gaze. She raised her eyebrows, and he nodded and pronounced, "Game time, game time! Come one, come all, to an enforced evening of fun at the House of Gibbs!"
All of the young people giggled and hurried to claim seats, but Jethro responded by motioning to his father and Ducky and pointing to the basement. The older trio turned immediately, en masse, and headed in that direction, determined to forsake the younger ones for the quiet and calm of Jethro's sanctuary.
McGee looked surprised at their calculated, immediate desertion and stammered, "Boss, but aren't you even going to see what the game is before you leave?"
Ziva plopped into one of the armchairs and added, "Right, Gibbs, maybe your dad and Ducky want to play with us."
"Dr. Mallard, you will have a great time," Jimmy promised, dragging a chair so that it faced the sofa, where Tony and Abby had positioned themselves.
"Thank you, no," Jack responded, waving as he left.
Ducky followed closely, after smiling sweetly at them all and pronouncing, "I fear my definition of a great time may differ drastically from yours, Mr. Palmer, though I do appreciate your invitation."
Gibbs stood at the entrance and surveyed the group, all reclining comfortably in seats, clearly ready for recreation. He felt a sense of satisfaction deep within himself that he had a part in their enjoyment tonight in his home. Usually they saw him as the boss, the taskmaster who tolerated no slacking at NCIS.
McGee had found a chair, as well, and he sat with great posture, perched on the very edge.
Noting Jethro's scrutiny, Tony plastered on an innocent expression and leaned over to covertly alert Abby.
She responded immediately with a bright smile in Jethro's direction. "Don't worry at all, Gibbs, we'll just sit here and not get up or run around. We'll just play a quiet game." She practically beamed at him.
Tony chimed in to support her. "Nothing's going to get broken this time, Boss, and no one will get hurt this time, either. We promise- scout's honor, in fact."
Jethro opened his mouth to reply and then took a good, appraising look at the young people. Though technically his house, truthfully, now the home belonged as much to Abby and Tony as it did to him.
Tonight was one of those rare social nights which his dad had insisted he host, and now that they had finished dinner, and since the storm threatened to make driving home treacherous, why couldn't the visitors join them a while longer?
Resigned to the inevitable, Gibbs sighed.
He regarded both Abby and Tony together, raising his eyebrows deliberately and gesturing with his forefinger towards the stairs. Both nodded that they understood the communication. That was his non verbal, no nonsense signal to them that he would banish them upstairs if a problem developed. Neither wanted that.
Tony grinned at his mentor and Gibbs couldn't help from feeling a stab of pride. His senior field agent was not only capable as an agent, but the man himself had a fantastic personality.
Abby jumped off the sofa and ran to him, pigtails swinging. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and hurried back, taking her place again on the sofa by Tony.
Gibbs felt a rush of pride for her as well. Abby had to be the most giving and effervescent person he had ever met, and on the job, had no peer with her forensics skills.
He turned and left decisively, grabbing a cup of coffee in the kitchen before heading to the sanctuary of the basement to enjoy his dad and Ducky's company.
"What is our game, then?" Ziva questioned, regarding all of them curiously. "Do we each decide now, or are we each going to have a game?"
"I know," Jimmy offered, tapping the side of his head. "We could all put a game idea into a hat and then choose one. That would be democratic."
"Good idea," McGee supported him with enthusiasm. "We need someone unbiased to pick though, and we need some paper strips to write the game titles."
He got up and they heard, as if on cue, footsteps on the stairs trekking upwards from the basement. McGee hurried to the kitchen where he met Jack, who had come up to retrieve his own cup of coffee.
Tim explained the mission to Jethro's father, who quickly moved to help.
The senior Gibbs rooted around in one of the drawers in the kitchen until he produced a ledger pad and some pens, then a pair of scissors. He cut even strips of the paper and gave them to McGee, who took the slips to the living room and issued instructions for everyone to jot down one game idea apiece.
By the time Jack joined them they were finished and awaiting him, eager to get the fun started.
Jack made the rounds with a salad bowl, in which they dropped their papers with game ideas, taking turns. Then he reached in and pulled one out, squinting to read the small writing.
Abby squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation while Jack announced seriously, "I do believe we have a winner here, for a game of Romance!"
There was quite a bit of laughter at the proclamation, and then Abby demanded with delight, "Who wrote that one?"
Five heads swung in Tony's direction, but he held up his hands as a surrender and sputtered, "Not I- that didn't even cross my mind."
Jack adjusted his glasses. "It seems to me that we need to know whose idea it was so that the originator can explain the game."
Smiling furtively, Ziva rearranged herself in her chair. "Ok, I am the one, the quilty partner."
Everyone laughed again good naturedly, and Jack corrected, "guilty partner, Honey, not quilty."
The group patiently regarded Ziva, who explained the intricacies of the entertainment, "Well, the game is really a romance game, or a romance what-if game, I should say. So the first person describes a word, and that will be the base of a romantic evening. Then we will see who can be the most romantic."
"What kind of word?" Palmer questioned, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand.
Jack straightened and responded decisively instead. Adjusting his glasses he insisted, "Since I was the one who picked the winner, I also get to contribute my two cents here. Miss Ziva won, so she starts with a word, then the next person has to work with the last letter of her word to make a romantic idea from that."
"I'm not sure I understand," McGee commented truthfully, and Abby smiled sympathetically at her friend.
"Hold on a second and just watch how it goes," Ziva instructed. "So, this is my romantic word, jewelbox. Now for my romantic evening, I would choose that my handsome date and I go to one of those old fashioned clubs with dancing. It would be a more private place, however, with just a few couples there, not with crowds. We would feel all alone."
She paused, looking towards the fireplace, and Jimmy raised a hand. "Uhm, Ziva, then how does the jewel box fit into the romantic evening?"
Ziva clasped her hands together and spoke conspiratorially.
"Yes, I was coming to that. So my romantic date would go to the jewelbox and select a song just for me, our special tune, and he would put in the money and it would…."
"Jukebox, Ziva, not jewelbox," Tony corrected, enunciating the words dramatically.
Realizing her error, Ziva held up a finger, "Ok, yes then, I meant jukebox."
Everyone laughed politely, and Jack smiled encouragingly. "Finish yours now, Ziva."
She did, "and he would put in the money and we would dance, and I would know he thought that beautiful song reminded him of me."
Abby clapped and leaned over to pat her on the leg, grinning happily.
Everyone else smiled, too.
Jack announced decisively, "Ok, Tony is on your left so he's next, and I am going back downstairs."
All of them told him good bye and thanked him for the assistance.
Tony sat quietly a second, pondering, until Tim reminded him, "You have to use the x from Jukebox, the last letter."
"I know," Tony agreed. "I am just trying to think." He bit the side of his lip in concentration.
They were silent for several seconds as they watched him, and then Tony leaned forward and spoke triumphantly, "Xanadu, that's my romantic idea."
"Xanadu?" Abby clarified.
"As in….." Jimmy questioned, shifting in his seat.
"Coleridge, Autopsy Gremlin, Coleridge the poet wrote about Xanadu," Tony explained, then quoted, "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree."
"I remember that," Ziva contributed, "the poem was unfinished, yes?"
"Correct, my Israeli literary scholar," Tony beamed at her.
McGee spoke petulantly, "How did you ever hear of Coleridge, Tony?"
Tony raised his eyebrows and focused upon his teammate, "McEnvy, jealousy really doesn't suit you."
The he turned and surveyed everyone else, one person at a time. "Actually, my favorite poem of all time is his Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but Xanadu is still phenomenal. The history is that he dreamed it while high on opium and when he awoke, he raced to write down what he had seen and experienced in the dream. However, someone knocked and interrupted his train of thought, and he no longer could remember more lines."
"Wow," Jimmy spoke, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.