7 days earlier
It's past 8 on a Thursday and Gibbs is still at work, typing away to the sound of carolers and the relative quiet of the bullpen. But he's got a report to finish and an empty house to go home to – not quite the incentive to be efficient. He doesn't think about it too much – it hurts to think about it too much – but there were times when he didn't dread this time of year, when hanging candy canes around the house, and lighting candles to put on a Christmas tree, their Christmas tree – be careful, Jethro, it's a fire hazard – wasn't unbearable but something he looked forward to.
Now, he takes the shift on Christmas day and is sent all sorts of gifts from grateful colleagues, people who otherwise would look down and mumble a hello, too afraid to speak up, but who, in the name of the Christmas spirit, are more than willing to let their appreciation be known. Though receiving Honey Dust from DiNozzo that one time is something he could have gone without – even if it makes a woman's skin feel silky smooth (even if it tastes like honey when kissed).
Gibbs shakes his head, slightly amused at the memory of a flustered Tony scrambling to make sense of the situation and come up with an explanation because clearly, it was a mistake, boss, guess that's why Gloria's been screening my calls... He tries to regain his focus, but a certain melody creeps in his head until its incessant tugging is a tugging at his ears, not just his brain. There are people singing in the office!
Reluctantly, Gibbs takes a peek round his computer screen, curious eyes seeking the source of the noise, well, okay, not noise, but sound, harmonious, well-layered sound. When he sees no one, he resists the temptation for a moment, naturally, leans back in his chair, hands cradling the back of his head – right before he springs up to his feet, dang it, and goes on to do what he does best, investigate.
He walks down the stranded hallway, the chorus getting louder and louder, and oh, he sure hears what he hears – Ducky's baritone is not something he'd have trouble recognizing. With curiosity taking over and reason riding shotgun, Gibbs skips – yes, skips – the last few steps before he arrives at a rather vocal interrogation room. Certainly, no criminals sing joyful odes to Christmas when they're about to spend it all locked up and –
The door is open just a crack, and he comes closer, straining to see what's going on, but there's a whole lot of clues that give the resident carolers away. He can see Kate's coat draped over that chair (in fact, he can smell her perfume, but that's beside the point, ain't it?) and if he tilts his head at just the right angle, he can make out Bert, the farting hippo, sprawled on the floor in anticipation of being stepped over. Then, another tiny step closer and his suspicion will be confirmed; it is McGee who's doing the conducting and DiNozzo making funny faces behind his back. Gibbs shakes his head, can't help the little grin that splits his face for a moment – right before he realizes his whole team is here, and he is the only one who wasn't invited.
Okay, it's not that he cares because he doesn't – it's that simple (really). He doesn't sing and he's not cheery; he's the Grinch and if he wasn't busy writing that report (and sneaking up on his team's rehearsal), he'd be stealing Christmas, and shipping it back to the North Pole with no return label.
Just as he's about to storm back to his desk, the next verse starts and a voice he's come to now well, a voice which wouldn't, doesn't, hesitate to go against his word does a run, an ad lib, and he's a goner. Kate may be timid at first, but her voice is open, clear, and he finds himself closing his eyes, just listening to her soft tones, the way her voice dips down in all the right places, adding texture to the song, telling the story. He takes a shaky breath because his Kate is a singer and he never knew.
The end of the song brings him back to his senses, the chatter and bustle of people bundling up shakes him into awareness. Rehearsal's over, and Gibbs realizes with horror he'll soon be discovered, all dreamy smile and this close to taking a nap on the floor, lulled to sleep by Kate's sweet, sweet voice. And so he gets up, walks back to his desk. Time to order takeout.