A/N: Inspired by the word, "hobbies."
Back and forth, back and forth...
Up and down, up and down...
The unconscious mantra continued in Gibbs' head as his hand deftly guided the sander on the ribs of his beloved boat. Licking a finger, he carefully ran it on the smooth wood. Satisfied with his work, he pulled away and swiftly picked up his mason jar full of bourbon. Sipping it, he narrowed his eyes as he studied the skeleton of his new project.
Something was off...
Placing the jar on the nearest bench, he adjusted the tool belt around his waist and stepped forward. His work was never done.
Come on, come on...
Yes, yes, yes!
Abby jumped up and down as the ball she rolled connected solidly with the pins at the end of the lane, resulting in the fall of all of them.
"Strike!" she cried happily, hugging Sister Rosita.
The nuns laughed kindheartedly, completely in love with the eccentric goth.
Gently nudging the sister beside her, she giggled, "Till next time, Sista."
Don't do it, don't do it!
Look out, look out!
DiNozzo bit on his bottom lip, clutching the bowl of popcorn in his arms tightly. He always hated this part...
An explosion ripped through his stereo, causing him to jump, flinging popcorn into the air. After a pause, DiNozzo cheered. "Yeah!"
Finally, the credits rolled and DiNozzo pulled the comforter off the arm of his couch and pulled it over his long legs. As he fell into a deep sleep, he briefly wondered what film he would watch tomorrow.
More to the left, to the left!
So close, very close...
Ziva rolled her eyes as she plucked her knife from the plank of wood it had embedded in. Her aim was slightly off, and she had spent the majority of the night attempting to perfect it once more. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and skillfully threw the knife, opening them in time to watch it gracefully arc in the air and sink into the intended target.
Grinning, she sauntered over and repeated the process.
"Tomorrow, I will be better."
Blistering, how very hot...
Blow it off, cool it down...
Ducky leaned forward, carefully balancing a thick novel in his lap, and a cup of tea on his knee. Plucking his reading glasses off the coffee table, he leaned back with a deep sigh and settled himself into the large armchair.
Testing his hot tea with a wary sip, he nodded satisfactorily before opening his book and beginning to read softly to himself, from where he had last left off.
Several hours later, jerking awake after having nodded off to sleep, Ducky carefully placed the mug of tea that had somehow stayed balanced on his, now, outstretched legs, onto the table before him. Placing the book beside it, he decided that tomorrow he would finish the book.
That's not right, sounds weird...
Grammar check, spell check...
Having found some time downtime at home, McGee mentally corrected any mistakes on the paper before him. His story poured out of his mind, creating a new adventure for L.J. Tibbs and his team, until it suddenly stopped. Writer's block...
Removing the wooden pipe from his mouth, McGee tilted his head as he read the work before him, before shaking his head and removing the paper from the typewriter. Glancing at his watch, he noted how late it was, and opted for bed rather than an all-nighter at his desk.
Glancing at the typewriter before heading into his bedroom, McGee nodded firmly. Sometime this week the story would come out, he just knew it.
End.
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