The Big Day

by channelD

written for: the NFA Birthday challenge

rating: K plus

genre: humor

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disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS.

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"You see, Leon always takes his birthday off work, Agent Gibbs. So do I, when my birthday comes around. We've done this ever since we were married. But with him new on the job here in D.C., he felt he needed to show a bit of work ethic-slash-leadership, so he's not taking the day off this year."

Gibbs smiled as he held his phone. "That's his choice, Mrs. Vance—"

"'Jackie,' please."

"Jackie. So, do you want us to throw him a party?"

"Not a party, in so many words. But I know he'll be a little glum about having to work on that day, so if there's anything—any little thing at all that you and the other NCIS people can do to brighten his day, or enliven it a little—"

"It'll be our pleasure. Should it be a surprise?"

"Oh, yes! Leon loves surprises!"

"Okay. I'll put some of our creative minds to work on it. When is his birthday?"

"Two weeks from today. Thank you ever so much, Agent Gibbs! I know that will be a day Leon will never forget!"

- - - - -

"You are…pulling us off the cold cases to design a birthday party?" Ziva was surprised enough to be tempted to feel Gibbs' forehead for a fever.

"Just for this morning," said Gibbs. "I'm confident you'll come up with a plan in a few hours. And it's not a party—just something to recognize the day."

"Are we going to find out how old the Director is?" Tony asked, eyes twinkling.

"No," said Gibbs, and rounded on Tim. "And if you already have found out, keep that to yourself." He left in search of fresh coffee.

Tim gulped and moved past that. "So a no-party party. How about a singing telegram?"

Ziva blinked several times. "Telegrams can…sing?"

"They sing, they dance. I'll explain later," said Tony. "Can we just decorate his office?"

"How sedate, Tony," said Tim. "I was hoping more for something that everyone here could see."

"Decorate the balcony, then? Or the stairs leading to the balcony?"

"Balloons!" Tim said, snapping his fingers. "They're colorful, relatively cheap, and everyone loves them." He hopped onto his computer. "Get a hundred or so balloons, and a helium tank, and it'll look pretty festive!"

"Yeah," Tony nodded, only somewhat grudgingly. He had been so afraid that Tim would suggest they do a skit. Or sing, or dance, like telegrams. "Nice, round balloons…"

"Not latex balloons," Tim shook his head vehemently.

"Why not? Are you afraid Jardine is allergic to them?"

"No, though she probably is. Mylar balloons are better, since they hold helium much longer. They'll stay afloat for a couple of days, versus under 24 hours for latex ones."

"Okay, I'm convinced. Ziva, you have good color sense. Pick colors."

She smiled. "Any sort of mix of cheerful colors. Gunmetal grays and navy blues and blacks and dark browns…"

"I've just placed the order," Tim said swiftly. "Twenty each of purple, red, blue, green, pink, white, yellow, and orange. Plus helium tanks and strings. It'll be delivered to my place within 4 days. I'll drive in with the stuff on V-Day/B-Day."

"We'll have to inflate the balloons ourselves?"

"Yes, so we'll have to get in here really early on that day to get them all inflated before Vance gets in."

Tony groaned. "I hate early mornings. This had better be worth it, McGee."

"It will be!"

- - - - -

V-Day/B-Day arrived. Tim, Ziva and Tony arrived blearily at 6 a.m., and were pleased to see Gibbs already there. "You going to help, boss?"

Gibbs nodded. "I'm also going to keep my eye on you three. No sucking down helium! It can be dangerous, and I don't need you all sounding like Mickey Mouse."

"Not even one of us?" Ziva ventured. She endured Gibbs' glare, but was gratified by Tony's and Tim's grins.

- - - - -

Inflating balloons is tricky and a bit tedious. Even with four of them working at it, it took over two hours to get the 160 balloons inflated. A ribbon was tied at the base of each, and at the other end the ribbon was fastened to a small weight. The balloons bobbed and danced in the squad room's small air currents, yearning to be free.

"Too bad we don't have a lawn chair," Tony remarked, carefully poking a balloon nearby. "We could tie them onto it and take a ride."

Gibbs gave him a headslap. "We're Navy, not Air Force, DiNozzo. No balloon rides here."

- - - - -

They finished not more than 5 minutes before Vance came in, shortly before 9. In fact, they were still debating where to put the mass of balloons. NCIS workers came out of the four corners and serenaded their chief with "Happy Birthday to You."

Vance grinned and grinned. "I don't know how you all knew that today was my birthday, but I thank you! And are these balloons related?"

"Balloons have relatives?" Ziva whispered to Tony. "Balloons are not living things, Tony."

"I'll explain later," he whispered back.

"You still have not told me about telegrams that sing and dance," she replied. "There is so much I do not understand about America."

"These balloons!" Vance beamed. "Who had this idea?"

"Uh, if you don't like them, Director, the idea was McGee's. If you do like them, then it was a joint effort," Tony said over Tim's frown.

"They're so colorful!" Vance couldn't resist grabbing the balloon flock strings in a bunch.

"Careful, Leon!" said Gibbs. "We haven't securely tied them dow—"

Vance yelped as his wrist became caught in the strings, and the balloons shook off their loose ties to the ground. As if they had a hive mind, they rose quickly for the skylight, some 40 feet above the squad room floor, carrying the esteemed Director of NCIS with them. "Help!! Help!!" Vance bellowed.

The NCIS employees reacted predictably for 2009: Nearly every last one of them pulled out his or her cell phone and snapped pictures. Only a few, like Gibbs, thought first to run for a ladder,

"McGee! I'll get you for this!!" Vance shrieked.

"Uh, Director; don't you remember that your idea of the NCIS future is for agents more brainy and less brawny?" Tim faltered.

"You may not have a future, Probie," said Tony. "There's a bus leaving for Norfolk in 10 minutes. I suggest you—"

"I'll see you later." Tim grabbed his backpack and ran out.

"Relax, Director!" Ziva called up to Vance. "McGee made sure that we order mylar balloons instead of latex ones. You can easily stay up there for days!"

Gibbs appeared on the third floor with a 10-foot ladder. It might or might not do the trick. "Leon!! Jerk your legs a little. See if you can steer toward the balcony."

"I'll—try—" He could see Gibbs drawing his sig. "What the hell are you doing, Gibbs?!?"

"Just keep drifting toward the balcony. I was a sniper, remember? I can take out the balloons one at a time, which should lower you…"

"No!!!!!" Vance wailed.

Gibbs' phone rang, and he pulled it out to answer it.

"Agent Gibbs! Has Leon arrived yet? Is he enjoying what you've cooked up for him?"

"Jackie! You might say he's, uh, caught up in it."

"Wonderful! He's such a good sport."

Gibbs could see the blood lust in the Director's eyes. "Still, I think he'll look forward to his day off next year."

"As will I," Jackie Vance sang.

Hanging up with a grin, Gibbs then raised his sig and solemnly took aim.

-END-