Skeptics
"Let me get this straight," Jackson Gibbs directed, leaning judiciously on his cane as he moved slowly towards the living room. "You want me to tell Leroy that his living room requires a complete do over. Is that what this shanghaiing me is all about?"
He stopped and leaned against the doorway.
Abby slid around him and hurried to the center of the room where she spun, making her pigtails and bouffant skirt swing, also.
She chirped enthusiastically, "Exactly right- as you can see, this whole room needs some serious help and a dose of tender loving care."
Clasping a hand on the older man's shoulder as he came up from behind him, Tony leaned his head towards Jack's and spoke conspiratorially. "Consider the fact that your son exhausts himself on a daily basis in his position as a super duper NCIS agent. That caliber of dedicated worker deserves to come home to nothing short of utter relaxation and peaceful bliss."
Not turning loose of Jack's shoulder he used his other hand to gesture the expanse of the room. "Let me direct your gaze to take a good look at that sofa. It, alone, practically elicits condolences when people venture to the abode to visit."
Jack sighed and moved further until he could rest a hand on the one lone armchair. "Well, just how many visitors does my son get?"
Abby and Tony exchanged startled glances.
When no answer immediately followed, Jack turned to regard them and slowly grinned. "Now I have it. That let the cat out of the bag. You two want the living room spruced for your own gains."
Pursing her lips in concentration, Abby flopped down on the weather beaten sofa. "True, but to be fair, any improvement would benefit your only son, directly or indirectly." She smiled and began to twirl one of her dark pigtails.
Tony ran his fingers through his thick hair and regarded Jack, his green eyes sparkling. "We want you to broach the subject, please, our dearest Jack. Boss will not yell at you, but he has no qualms about yelling at us. Truthfully, the man has already chewed us up and spit us out on the issue. You, alone, stand as our last resort."
"You just start talking about it, and then we will jump in with some more begging," Abby explained.
Jack laughed at the honest pleas and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "How could I refuse an appeal like that one?"
Fingering the worn sofa fabric he shook his head in agreement. "This has seen far better days, let me assure you." Using his cane to tap the coffee table he added, "This thing barely stands. I believe I could hold more weight than it could and I am a very old man now."
Tony contradicted, "No, not too old."
"So you will help?" Abby clarified.
"I will, indeed," he promised, eyes twinkling. "I look forward to joining forces with the two of you in this mission of mercy."
In the past several months, Tony and Abby had relocated to the House of Gibbs, as they referred to Jethro's home, despite the fact that they both kept leases on their apartments. Irregardless of his stern demeanor and opposition to touchy feely situations, he offered Tony and Abby shelter, and security, and though he would not admit or advertise it, love.
Jackson Gibbs had made the journey from Stillwater to Washington to visit all of them, something he had begun to do regularly. Abby and Tony proved a buffer between Gibbs the elder and Gibbs the younger, whose relationship had lay dormant and contentious for years. This heralded the beginning stages of their renewed father and son bond, and all four hoped it would succeed.
Passing the plate of crisp dinner rolls to his son later, Jack got the conversation started as promised. "Son, take a couple of these and then tell me if you have any reason to hang onto any of that living room furniture in there."
Setting one of the rolls on his plate Jethro countered, "How did my furniture turn into a problem for you, Dad?"
Despite their earlier pleas for assistance, once Jack broached the subject Tony and Abby stayed silent. Setting his fork down to rest on his plate Tony raised his eyebrows at Abby, who had just put a spoonful of Jack's homemade beef stew in her mouth.
Despite his back up, Jack wiped his mouth and settled back in his chair to continue. "Did I say your furniture bothered me?"
"Well no, Dad, but why would you question me about hanging onto it otherwise?" Gibbs asked reasonably, then picked up his cup of coffee and took a long swallow.
Setting the cup back down he glanced at Abby, who cut her eyes towards Tony and then pretended interest in her own roll. Switching his focus onto Tony, he noticed the younger man attempting to feign enthusiasm for a gulp of sweet tea.
Jethro narrowed his eyes and shook his head knowingly. He could attribute his father's sudden interest in the furnishings to those two. Their masterminding must have included recruiting Jack to their cause as a spokesman.
The corner of his lip twitched.
"Dad, by any chance has the state of those furnishings been discussed with you earlier today by a pair of home décor zealots?" He leaned back in his chair and regarded Tony and Abby with steely blue eyes.
"As a matter of fact, yes," Jackson replied, meeting his son's eyes with his own steady blue gaze. "However, I can see myself that your living room needs help."
"I wonder why you two have stayed silent," Jethro pretended to ponder, "considering that you have campaigned for this change yourselves."
He simulated bewilderment, shrugging his shoulders and arching his brows.
"Well, we just thought…" Abby began hopefully.
"Forget it," Gibbs interrupted, cutting off the defense. "You campaigned to redecorate and you lost. Now, both of you quit conscripting help and drop this. I told you no."
Tony countered, "You never said the issue closed, Boss, and by the way, zealot is a bit harsh."
Jethro stood and gripped the chair's back with both hands. "Really? Let me say it now. I like the living room the way it is and have no plans to re do it. That should make it clear."
Abby rolled her eyes, "Gibbs, please listen!"
Jack laid a hand on his son's arm. "Why do you object today about their idea, Leroy?"
Annoyed, Gibbs regarded the three with irritation as he grappled for an answer.
They watched him expectantly.
Opening his mouth to speak, he suddenly closed it and evaluated the issue at hand. What harm would it do to let them redecorate the living room? After all, in the back of his mind he had long realized that the springs had broken under one of the sofa cushions and that the upholstery hung in shreds from the back of the wing backed chair.