Random NCIS one-shot is random. I've been watching a lot of the series on DVD lately, and it's kind of eaten my brain. Enjoy.
Tony thumped up the stairs at NCIS headquarters with the lunch run in one hand and a selection of drinks, most of them coffee-based, on a tray in the other. He nimbly dodged a number of grumbling co-workers, who were cursing under their breaths as they lumbered up and down the unfamiliar flights. It was four stories to the bullpen, and Tony kept two things up the whole way: the grin on his face, and the grip on the largest black coffee he could afford. After all, it was almost noon, and Gibbs would be needing a refilling.
When he finally arrived at the bullpen, he dumped the lunch bag on Ziva's desk and quipped, "Boss using the elevator as an office again?"
"Indeed," said Ziva, plucking open the white paper and peering inside.
Tony chuckled, delivering the extra-strong black coffee right to the center of Gibbs's desk, making sure it was level on the surface before he released it. "Who's he got roped in this time? Did Fornell stop by for another chat?"
"Nope," Ziva said, drawing her order from the stack and motioning coyly for her drink. "It's McGee."
"Ah-ha, and what did Probie do this time?"
"I haven't a clue."
"C'mon, Ziva," said Tony, placing the soft drink in her waiting palm. "Don't hold off on the gossip. It's important for me to keep abreast of everything that happens. You know, for the sake of the team."
Ziva clicked her tongue and took a long suck from her drink's straw. She swallowed in what seemed to Tony the slowest way possible, then leaned her head on her hand and shook her hand and gazed at him factitiously. "If I knew Tony, I would tell you. But I don't. I have no idea what McGee has done. All I can tell you is, he's seemed quite nervous all morning."
"Stewing in his suit," Tony said with a knowledgeable nod, digging out his burger and fries. "Must've messed something up during the investigation yesterday. I bet the boss is really letting him have it."
It was a fortunate, for Tony's sake, that no one took him up on the bet, because many of their assumptions about the situation were in fact quite wrong.
For one thing, it was McGee who stopped the elevator.
( - )
Gibbs had been finishing off the last dregs of his morning coffee with the lights went out and the elevator stopped moving. Of course he knew that he wasn't the one who'd thrown the switch. For one thing, he was standing on the opposite side of the elevator – it was McGee who was near the buttons. McGee, who appeared to be staring down his own reflection in the polished inner doors and was anxiously wringing his hands, as though trying to scrub them clean without either water or soap.
Gibbs lowered his coffee cup and turned to his agent with a steady gaze. "Something on your mind, McGee?"
McGee swallowed. Gibbs watched his adam's apple bob in his throat. "Sort've boss," he croaked. "There's, uh. Something important that I need to, uh, talk with you about."
Gibbs waited a moment, watching him. McGee continued to ring his hands, casting nervous glances at Gibbs's reflection as though he wanted to look at his boss, but couldn't bring himself to. It was odd seeing him act like this. Tim had gradually gained self-assurance and poise over his time as an agent, until he almost rivaled Tony in terms of sheer confidence. But the man that Gibbs was looking at now more closely resembled the nervous IT guy who'd stumbled into his position almost by accident.
Gibbs took all of this in over the course of a few moments, turned back to the door, and lifted his coffee cup to his lips once more. "Okay," he said. "Talk."
"Abby's pregnant."
It took all of Gibbs's impressive willpower not to spit his last mouthful of coffee out in surprise. He swallowed it instead and his hand twitched, crushing the empty cup in its grasp. He turned to McGee sharply and said, "What?"
"A-Abby's pregnant," McGee repeated, shifting away like a nervous puppy.
"Is this some kinda joke, McGee?"
McGee shook his head. "No sir. Serious as the, uh, grave."
"Then why are you telling me this, not her?"
McGee swallowed again, and this time it was hard enough for Gibbs to hear the air bobbing down his throat. It was almost louder than his next words. "I-I'm telling you because…because it's mine, boss. Abby's pregnant. And I'm the father."
Gibbs stared at McGee intently. From the young agent's expression, it was being perceived as more of a glare; he took a step back and felt for the wall of the elevator, instinctively seeking the security that at least one of his sides was protected.
"When did you two get back together?" Gibbs asked, two of his rules echoing in his head.
McGee gave a little shrug. "A…A few months ago? It was kind of a gradual thing. One day we were just working in her lab after hours, you know, like usual, and then the next thing I know we're kissing again and…"
"I don't need the details, McGee."
"Right." McGee's jaw snapped shut so hard Gibbs could hear his teeth clatter. "Sorry boss."
He swallowed a few more times, as though trying to build up the energy to say something. Gibbs turned back to the door and wished he had another coffee. He needed a refill to deal with this.
"I'm really, really sorry, boss," McGee finally said, the words falling out of him chaotically. "We really weren't expecting this. I mean, you're never really expecting it unless you're trying for it, which we weren't; but we were safe about it. I mean, really, really safe about it. It's just that sometimes, things, you know, happen and…I'm sorry, boss."
He sounded like some scared teenage nerd apologizing to the father of the girl he knocked up. After a moment, Gibbs realized that's exactly what McGee thought he was: the nerdy little probie who'd gotten Gibbs's little girl – his "favorite" as Ziva put it – pregnant. And if it was anyone else, Gibbs knew that he would be going for his old sniper rifle.
But it's not anyone else. It's McGee. Tim. Abby's Timmy. Tony's probie. Their collective geek. Gibbs's man. Gibbs's son.
Gibbs took a slow breath in through his nose and makes a point of not looking McGee's way. "So," he said. "Whattya gonna do about it, McGee?"
"Well," said McGee with an uncertain sigh. "Abby wants to keep it. So I'm going to defer to what she wants and…and take responsibility."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "You got a ring?"
McGee shook his head. "I suggested it, but Abby doesn't want to get married. Too much commitment. But we're going to share custody. Take care of the kid. Spend some more time together. And in a few years, when she's ready to settle down…who knows?"
"Who knows indeed." Gibbs mussed. He turned the ruin coffee cup over in his hands.
"I'm really sorry, boss," McGee said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I just thought it would be better to tell you face-to-face and…and Abby agreed."
Things were quiet in the elevator for a moment. Then Gibbs reached over and flipped the switch. As the elevator whirred back to life, he patted McGee on the shoulder. "Relax, Tim. You're going to be a great daddy."
There was a flicker of surprise across McGee's eyes, as though he hadn't thought of it that way before. Then the surprise spread to the rest of his face, and his expression stretched into a broad smile.
"I'm gonna be a daddy," he repeated, giddy with delight.
Gibbs remembers feeling that way, once. He remembers holding a beautiful golden-haired baby girl in his arms for the first time, feeling her tiny heart beating in her little chest. Knowing that she was special. Knowing that she was his, and he was hers.
His heart clenched in his chest. He felt his throat tighten and wills the painful, precious memories away.
The elevator stopped again. The car went dark.
Gibbs sighed through his teeth. "Yes, McGee?"
"Sorry boss," McGee said automatically. "I remembered something I wanted to double-check."
"And that is?"
"That you'll accept if we name you the baby's godfather."
Gibbs blinked once. Stared at McGee. Said, "You don't think Ducky would be a better choice?"
"There's no better choice than you, boss." McGee shruged. "Abby wouldn't want anyone else. And neither would I."
Gibbs stared for a moment longer. His brain had all but shut down. Finally, he gives a single curt nod.
"Good," said McGee, quickly flipping the switch. "Just wanted to make sure."
They finally reached the lab level, McGee going on ahead as Gibbs disposed of his twisted coffee cup. When he made it to the lab, he paused for a moment and watched the two through the glass. Abby couldn't have been more than a few months along. There was no sign of her showing. Yet. The only hint was the way McGee fussed over her – not in voice, but in body language, his hand hovering near her hips as though to catch her should she fall.
That afternoon, when the pair snuck out to a Lamaze class, Gibbs looked the other way. It would only be a one-time thing. But it was a special one time.