The tree, the angel and DiNozzo
A/N: Set pre-series, just a little Christmas two-shot not to be taken too seriously. I will update as soon as I can.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was pretty sure that he had never met anyone as ridiculously accident-prone as Anthony DiNozzo, Junior. Within a few weeks of working with the young Italian, Gibbs had become accustomed to the yelps of pain across the bullpen, the stapled fingers, the concussions, the split lips. It wasn't that DiNozzo was clumsy, per se; he simply had impeccably bad timing. If fortune had decided that someone was going to fall down the stairs in front of the director on a Tuesday afternoon, DiNozzo would just happen to be the one stood casually at the top of the steps. If fortune felt like watching an NCIS agent be scolded by their own coffee, DiNozzo would be the one craving caffeine.
So yes, Gibbs was used it.
The former marine had never enjoyed Christmas – at least, since it happened – so usually stalked through the entire festive period with a permanent scowl etched upon his features. But this year, after much persuasion from Abby, and puppy-dog eyes from DiNozzo (who wielded extraordinary power when he put on that expression), Gibbs decided that he could grin and bear Christmas just this once.
Tony seemed happy, which surprised Gibbs considering the miserable Christmases he must have had as a child with an absentee, neglectful father and a troubled, alcoholic mother.
For whatever reason – reasons Gibbs didn't feel like dwelling on – it felt right to see Tony smile like a little boy when Gibbs shoved a dusty box of decorations in his arms and instructed him to 'decorate the damn tree before I change my mind'.
With Abby, DiNozzo had acquired a rather large, emerald green tree and had resurrected it in the bullpen. The two were laughing, giggling, as they strung tinsel and baubles and lights across the poor plant and Gibbs was content to sit at his desk and watch quietly.
Abby was obviously glad to have someone who shared her festive mood, because Blackadder had declared Christmas to be childish pursuit.
This didn't stop DiNozzo, of course, who often acted like a pre-adolescent.
Vivian also said it was simply a time of greed and over-indulgence.
Again, DiNozzo ate enough for a small tribe, so wasn't disheartened.
Gibbs still wondered where all those calories went because they certainly didn't materialise on Tony's body.
"Gibbs!"
Abby shrill cry had Gibbs blinking out of his daze to look upon his favourite Goth.
"What, Abby?"
"Angel or star?" She held up a fluffy angel with jewelled wings and broken halo first, and then pulled a glittered, golden star out from behind her back. "I personally think the star – "
"No, the angel, Abby, the angel." Tony mumbled around the candy cane in his mouth, which was promptly sticking his teeth together.
Gibbs distinctly remembered Kelly being completely absorbed by the angel on top of the tree as a baby. She'd stare up at the ornament, gold and vibrant and sparkling, and just look, almost as if she expected it to flap its wings and fly away.
Gibbs cleared his throat and leant forward, studying the two younger members of his team carefully.
Abby look...interesting, to say the least. She had decorated herself in black tinsel, with black bauble earrings and tattoo of Santa on the back of her hand.
Tony looked tired; this was surprising because he was acting like a two-year old on red bull. His dark hair was curled at the tips, lacking its usual gel, and his face was somewhat pale. Not sickly pale – again, he just looked tired.
Maybe Gibbs had been working him too hard.
"The angel," Gibbs said, curtly.
"Yes!" DiNozzo grinned gleefully, smugly.
"Gibbs!" Abby feigned outrage, before passing the angel over to Tony, who had dragged up a chair.
And that's when Gibbs' gut told him not to let DiNozzo climb that chair, or let Abby dance to Brenda Lee, while he sat back and watched an unfolding disaster.
Impending doom.
DiNozzo climbed up onto the chair, candy cane in his teeth, angel in one hand, the other arm flailing wildly for balance.
Gibbs was on the verge of standing up.
Abby twirled, like a ballerina.
DiNozzo reached up, smiling, returning the angel to its rightful place.
Abby spun again, and then tripped over the decoration box, falling into tree.
The tree tilted ominously, Tony's eyes widened and he instinctively stepped backwards.
The tree fell down, knocking DiNozzo off his perch and into flight.
Gibbs winced, teeth grinding, at the sound of the Italian's head smacking against Blackadder's desk.
Bone on wood.
"Tony!" Abby had leapt over the tree at this point as Gibbs rounded the corner, his heart dropping at the sight of DiNozzo splayed across the floor, thick, cherry red blood in his hair, trailing down his face from a four inch gash above his left eyebrow.
"Damn it, Abby, what were you doing?" Gibbs knew it wasn't Abby's fault, but the way DiNozzo rolled his head, eyes scrunched tightly shut, fingers clawing at the carpet, had the marine lashing out at anyone in the immediate vicinity. "Why can't you be more careful?!"
"Gibbs, I…" Abby's words died in her throat and she bit down on her lip.
"wasn't... fault, Gibbs…" Tony mumbled, his words slurred, barely comprehensible, "my…head 'urts.."
"Ya think, DiNozzo?" The words, to a stranger, would appear callous. But DiNozzo could hear the softly uttered note of concern, the worry, in the older man's tone and the Italian basked in it (despite the throbbing pain in his head and spinning room),"We gotta get him to Ducky, Abs. Get the elevator."
Abby did as instructed, her hand lingering on Tony's arm for a moment.
Gibbs gently wrapped one arm around DiNozzo's waist and slowly hoisted him up into a sitting position, heart clenching in worry as Tony slumped against his chest, chocking back the nausea which had risen at the movement.
"Come on, up you get." Gibbs coaxed, brushing the hair away from the younger agent's forehead and away from the wound.
Tony groaned, clutching onto the former marine's jacket as he was dragged wobbly to his feet.
He then stumbled, swayed, his head spinning, the sound of the clock, of Gibbs' voice, of the traffic outside, blurring into one blast of noise.
"Boss, I'm gonna…"
"Don't you throw up on me, DiNozzo."
Tony wasn't sure he possessed enough self-control at that moment to prevent such an occurrence.
He barely felt his feet touch the floor as Gibbs half-carried him to the elevator. He felt like he was flying, spiralling like an autumn leaf caught in a breeze.
Before he knew it, Gibbs had settled him down against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around DiNozzo's back, the one holding a handkerchief to his bleeding head.
"Boss?"
"What, DiNozzo?"
"I've changed my mind…" Tony swallowed deeply, his eyes remaining firmly shut.
"About what?"
"I hate Christmas."