Title: J. Edgar Hoover was WHAT!?!
Author: Raine
Spoilers: None
Summary: "I've got one word for you, Tobias."
Disclaimer: They are, unfortunately, not mine. If they were Hollis Mann may or may not exist
and Gibbs would be mine.
Feedback: Make me happy and I'll actually post that very huge fanfic I'm working on. And for those of you who have been hoping for me to update "Maybe It's a Miracle" – I'll do that too.
A/N: This came out of a conversation a bunch of my friends and I were having during lunch two days ago. I have no idea whether or not this is actually true. If it is, well I should know better than to doubt my friend of a history freak by now, if it's not, I apologize for tarnishing Hoover's name but the idea was just too tantalizing to resist.
A/N 2: For those of you who don't know: J. Edgar Hoover was a former FBI Director in the 1950's and after whom the FBI Headquarters is named.
J. Edgar Hoover was WHAT?!?
It was the second to last Friday of the month and Gibbs was waiting rather impatiently for him to show up. Neither of them were exactly sure how these monthly meetings started, but they did, and slowly it became a way for the two of them to unwind and step away from whatever cases they had been working.
Actually, they usually met at the bar on the third Friday of the month but they had had to postpone this particular meeting due to the fact that the annual NCIS/FBI football game had been held on that day.
Which was why Gibbs was slightly more abrasive than usual when the shorter man finally did show up. "Tobias, you're late."
"I'm sorry, Jethro," Fornell replied, completely unperturbed, "but it took me longer to get away from Ginger than I had expected."
Gibbs frowned slightly; he had forgotten it was Fornell's anniversary. "Why'd you let her find you in the first place?"
The look Fornell gave him could have curdled milk. "Didn't have much of a choice, Jethro. She was waiting for me as I left work." Gibbs, however, wasn't milk.
"You could have –"
"Can it Jethro. Is there a reason you're so eager to see me today? Usually you spend most of our time together glaring at the wall." Fornell smirked at him. "Or did DiNotso do something stupid again."
A look of amused annoyance passed through Gibbs' eyes, "DiNozzo's DiNozzo. By the very definition of the word DiNozzo, DiNozzo is annoying. No, that is not why I'm impatient."
"Well why then?"
He just stared at Fornell.
"You've got that mustache in a box somewhere." He said, pretending to search for it.
"Nope."
"Well why then?"
Silence. Fornell was getting frustrated.
"Jethro…"
"One word, Tobias."
"One word? Only one? Now I am worried," the FBI agent joked.
A wicked smile grew over Gibbs' face, "Fumble."
Now Fornell wished it had been the mustache. "That wasn't my fault! Had Sachs not –"
"It doesn't matter what Sachs did or did not do. Your team lost to mine because you fumbled the ball right into DiNozzo's arms."
Fornell slouched in his chair and pouted. "I didn't realize that the boy could run so fast."
"He played varsity for the Ohio State football and basketball teams, Tobias! How could you not know?"
"Okay, maybe I forgot." Really not happy with the way the conversation was going, he ordered two more shots from the bartender.
"Maybe, Fornell?"
"Alright fine," he snapped. "Maybe I did screw that game up. But at least I didn't get my team pulled off a case because I slept with another agency's leading investigator!"
Gibbs glared at him, "I had nothing to do with my team getting pulled off the Oscar case. You have a problem with that? You go take it up with Jenny."
"Jenny," Fornell mused. "I still can't believe the other agencies allowed a woman to take over after Murrow. What were they thinking?"
The Marine in Gibbs immediately leapt to his old partner's defense. "This coming from the guy who works in a building named after a dead guy?"
Slightly more than slightly drunk, Fornell didn't realize the trap he was walking into. "Yeah, a dead director who helped give the FBI its credibility!"
"Oh yeah, Fornell. J. Edgar Hoover gave the FBI tons of credibility."
Hearing the sarcasm in his friend's voice made Fornell attempt to focus on him. "Yeah, he did."
Gibbs snorted. "He did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Prove it."
Gibbs nodded, "Alright, I will. He spent his entire career hunting down communists and everyone who was 'different' right?"
"Yes…" Something about that damned twinkle in his eyes made Fornell's investigator's sense go haywire. "Why is this important?"
Gibbs smirked as the trap shut. "The man was a cross dresser, Fornell. He spent all his free time dressed as a drag queen."
The venerated, very drunk, SSA Fornell buried his head in his arms as Gibbs' laughter rebounded off the walls of his throbbing head.