Title: A Little Knowledge
Fandom: NCIS
Rated: K+
Spoilers: None; set pre-series.
Disclaimer: Look, if I owned them, this show would be aired on HBO, at 2 am, and there would be a whole lot more naked bits. Just sayin'.
Summary: I've always thought that Ducky and Gibbs have a fascinating dynamic with each other and have often wondered how that may have played out when they first met, especially given that fact that Gibbs is, well, himself, and Ducky could probably endear himself to anybody if you give him the right topic.
I've also been under the impression lately that while Gibbs might be the worlds most focused individual, his attention span seems to be a bit scattered (he hides it better than DiNozzo, I think).
All mistakes are mine, and you have my apologies in advance.
"Lovely trees they have out here. Excellent foliage."
A hand tightened on the steering wheel "I hadn't noticed."
At 90 mph, you really shouldn't.
"That's quite a shame, my dear."
A shame? A shame? Gibbs thought of all the things in the world gave him a sense of peace. It didn't take long, and he thought lovingly of his gun.
"Vermont has such an excellent array of plant life, Arbour enthusiasts from all over-"
His big gun. Though he wouldn't need the scope. Or would he? His blood pressure decreased slightly as he distracted himself with the dilemma of killing a pathologist from a long-rang distance or a short one. Which one would make him feel better?
"Of course now they can extract DNA from trees as easily as they do humans, which no doubt-"
Short range. Definitely short range.
Gibbs resisted the urge to turn his head and glance at his verbose passenger; he knew he'd only encourage him.
"Although I have always preferred maple syrup from the tap houses in New Brunswick. Most people don't realize that there is a minute but distinct difference in the flavour that can be attributed entirely to-"
Huh. It was like having that channel, the one Milsney was always yammering on about. Discovery, was it? With audio only. His eyes strayed to the radio, feeling irritated with himself for taking apart the damn thing. He should've used Agent Dayes' car radio. Asshole drove like somebody's grandmother, he didn't deserve the entertainment, besides; he had needed the wires.
"I've always preferred my salmon smoked with crushed peppercorns, but 'to each his own', I always say-"
Gibbs never realized how much you missed the little things until they were forcefully ripped from your clutches and held hostage by a bespectacled Englishman.
It used to be so quiet.
"I could never really enjoy the infusion really, the added herbs always seemed to override the flavour-"
God, it was never-ending, He glared at a passing milepost, they should be at their crime scene any minute, thank Christ.
Gibbs took a minute to wonder how someone gets murdered in Vermont. He didn't think Vermont even had a crime rate.
"But that is a story for another time, ah, I believe those are the flashing lights of our Law enforcing cousins, now if you will excuse me-"
Gibbs barely managed to put the rental in park before the diminutive man hopped out. "You can't fault him his work ethic." He thought, exiting the vehicle at a more leisurely pace, schooling his features into an air of dismissive arrogance as the local Deputy stalked toward him, easily recognizable by his lumbering gait and vacant but determined expression. 'God' He thought, squaring his shoulders for a pissing match, 'It was going to be a long night.'
Nineteen hours later, Gibbs and Ducky (A name the man had insisted upon, and finally, reluctantly, Gibbs had agreed to use) piled into the sorely abused rental car, covered in mud, tree sap, and dog hair, with little more than the need for sleep, clean clothes and a return plane ticket home to keep them standing. Gibbs shoved the keys in the ignition, but hesitated to start the car, fingering the steering wheel awkwardly and shifting slightly as his shirt caught the edge of -yet another- set of stitches. He kept thinking of what his father once told him.
"There some things that men go through, Leroy, that make them nothing less than brothers."
Gibbs heaved a sigh and focused on the steering wheel. "Look, I-" He fell silent, licking his lips, winced at the taste of blood and tried again.
"When I was a kid, we used to roast apples over the fire and coat them in maple sugar." There. Now he felt better.
There was a brief pause in the quiet, and even though Gibbs refused to look at him, he could feel the Doctors' smile.
"Have you ever tried the same with pears, my dear boy?"
Gibbs shook his head, feeling ridiculously young; and the man-Ducky- started to wax poetic about the sweet fruit.
For the first time since Director Morrow had shoved the unlikely man in his direction, Gibbs found himself listening to the man's monologue without a pressing desire to cause undue harm. Anyway, there is nothing wrong with having a partner that knew a lot about everything. Gibbs glanced in the rear view mirror before peeling out of the car park, grinning as his tires spun some mud on the idiot Deputy. Ducky had mentioned the man's deep aversion to wet dirt; and Gibbs was wise enough to take advantage of a bit of honest knowledge. A useful thing, that.
Fin