This is total crack, which I wrote in 5 minutes at a starbucks, so don't expect any of my usual overly-descriptive and philosophical rambling. Blame the weirdness of this drabble on the 5 tons of chocolate powder I dumped on my cappuccino.
Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had a reputation to keep. In the ruthless jungle of gossiping secretaries and power-hungry probies, preserving his "all-knowing silent-but-deadly" image was imperative.
Which is why, at this precise moment, he was crouching behind the walls of his 'office' in the bullpen, waiting. Waiting for Dinozzo to say something stupid - which, knowing him, wouldn't be a long wait - so that he could stride in with a headslap and a "whad'ya got?"
From the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the clerks from the filing department staring at him questioningly.
"There somethin' on my face?" Gibbs barked, sending her one of his famous glares.
She jumped and looked away. "N-no, sorry, I was just- just, uh…nevermind." She scampered away, papers clutched to her chest.
Ha. Thought Gibbs. Still got it.
Gibbs looked down at his watch, a frown tugging at his brows. It had been almost 10 minutes, and he'd yet to hear an acceptable cue for his entrance. Maybe it would be best if he were to just enter, already. Just as he was about to give up and show himself, his ears picked up the tail end of Tony's conversation.
"… could you imagine if Gibbs tried cross-dressing? Big pink dress, ruffles, and a bow,"
Ah, yes. Now is my time.
"… and heels! colourful little stilettos, with points at the end. Ha, picture his hairy legs trying to fit inside of…" Tony stiffened. "He's right behind me, isn't he."
Bishop and Mcgee nodded, solemnly.
"Oh, hah, I'm not saying you like to wear dresses or anything, boss - not to say that you wouldn't look good in them, I'm sure you could pull off the… I'm gonna shut up now, boss."
"Ya think, DiNozzo?"
And then came the perfectly executed headslap, reverberating with a smack and drawing a wince of pity from the rest of the team. "Get back to work."
"Sure thing boss," piped Tony, who returned to his desk, rubbing his sore scalp. "How do you always turn up right when I talk about you? It's freaky."
Mcgee answered in his place: "You should get it by now, Tony. Gibbs knows everything."
At his own desk, Gibbs allowed a small smirk to cross his lips. They don't suspect a thing. All is well.