Tim was already seated at his desk and working when Tony and Gibbs strolled in. The senior agent held his breath in tentative anticipation of McGee teasing him about his ill advised lapse in judgement.
He let the breath out in one go in relief as the junior agent flashed him a discreet and sympathetic smile, which was sincere from beginning to finish, before dropping his head back down to his file.
Returning a smile of gratitude, Tony settled himself behind his own desk and made a mental note to give over teasing Tim about his book.
Gibbs, who was pretending not to notice the silent interaction between his two boys smiled slightly. Bicker like four year olds though they might, they always had the other's six.
Ziva arrived within minutes, and the team leader was soon barking out orders concerning the day's work. The three field agents were soon immersed in running down various leads, and Tony was immensely thankful that the Mossad liaison appeared to be absolutely none the wiser as to his current accommodation setting.
Hours passed and the time to write up the various reports of the day was upon them, and the three agents worked diligently at their desks.
Gibbs had long since left to battle it out with the Director about her forcing them all to attend a sexual harassment seminar.
This gave Tim the requisite supervisory absence to sulk.
He couldn't help it. Tonight was his coveted WoW convention. He had waited months and months for it and had gone through turmoil to secure tickets. He and his old MIT friends were meant to be going, and they weren't taking the excuse of his sudden illness in their stride.
He had been half tempted, in a particular vicious fit of sulking whilst at home, to just go. Gibbs would never find out. He wouldn't even know where to begin looking for the convention. However, seeing how Tony had been busted caused him to reconsider. He knew he couldn't possibly survive another round with his boss's paddle. Or the man's disappointment.
He had just under two weeks of torture left. He was already experiencing extreme cabin fever. He hated his apartment these days. It was like a particularly luxurious prison cell, but a prison cell nonetheless. He missed passionately his coffee mornings at the book club, his writing group, his…constitutionally protected liberty.
He bristled as he thought of all the social events he'd missed. Sure, he might not be wining and dining stunning women across the length and breadth of DC on a nightly basis, like DiNozzo, but he still had a life. Scowling at his screen, he saw another message pop up from Jeff, his old roommate. Sighing, he clicked into it.
Sure enough it was a lengthy and threatening diatribe, forcibly demanding his presence at the conference tonight. Grinding his teeth, he quickly typed another complete fabrication about his feeling unwell.
What else was he supposed to say?
"Oh sorry guys, my boss is mad at me so I'm not allowed out to play?"
Frowning ferociously at the thought, he grudgingly turned back to his now long neglected report.
Unfortunately for the pouting probie, that was the very moment a highly irate and freshly tongue lashed Jethro stormed back into his team's communal office area. The Director had thoroughly chewed him out for allowing his teams interpersonal training go three years out of date.
Glancing over the shoulders of DiNozzo and David, he was satisfied with the progress they had made in his absence. Feeling it was unnecessary but knowing the other two would sulk if he didn't, he leaned over McGee's personal space. He was highly surprised and irritated to see that the kid was still in the same place that he'd been when he left.
"McGee" he ground out quietly, causing the young man to jump, startled by his sudden presence.
"Did you by any chance sustain a concussion whilst I was gone?" he continued angrily, the last thing he needed was to be hauled over the coals because his team couldn't get on with their work without his direct supervision.
Paling slightly, Tim glanced at the offending screen and saw that he had written three words in the last hour or so. Racking his brains, he tried to find a justification for his lack of productivity. He needn't have bothered. The stinging head slap and "get to work" order spared him from it.
Rubbing his head slightly and sighing, the young agent turned back his work in earnest.
Which wasn't easy considering he could feel his cell vibrating nonstop in his pocket, and being fully aware that it was most likely a string of dire messages about his absence from tonight's event of the year.
The day came to its logical and merciful conclusion, and the team scattered quickly when Gibbs issued his "wrap it up" order.
Tony, to their boss's place.
Ziva, to a particularly rigorous training session for her upcoming marathon attempt.
Tim, home, to sulk some more.
As he watched Ziva pull out of the lot and Gibbs and Tony follow her, the probationary agent sat and sighed heavily. There was no point in rushing; he'd already cleaned his place from top to bottom. Repaired all the defects that he'd managed to put off for months. Made a start on a sequel to his novel.
He'd lost count of the things he'd found to do in attempt to amuse himself, but he was sure that they were running out. And fast.
Groaning, he too steered his way out of the Navy Yard's lot and set off for home, a glum expression etched onto his usually bright face. Ten minutes later saw him throwing open the door to his place; he moodily threw his keys onto the nearest table and set off towards his room to get changed. Clad in jeans and a sweatshirt, he then launched himself into his favourite arm chair and flicked on the television with a glower.
Hadn't he suffered enough with the paddling he'd received? Why did he have to be under house arrest too, what was he, some kind of common criminal?
Cutting his teeth on the edge of these vehement thoughts, he turned his attention back to the recorded documentary on the viability of extra terrestrial life he'd recorded. An hour or so later he had was still wound up. Sighing, he heaved himself out his chair and set off towards the kitchen to grab a drink.
How exciting he muttered to himself scathingly.
Glancing at his watch as he pulled out a bottle of cola, he saw with a pang that he should be leaving for the convention right about now. Which he would be doing, if he wasn't be so mercilessly persecuted.
As he made his way back to his cushy chair, muttering to himself about how unfair life was, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Glancing in alarm at the volume level of his television, he closed his eyes in despair. He had come to blows with his highly alarming neighbour many times before. Anything and everything seemed to set the extremely well muscled man off.
Groaning but deciding to get the clash over and done with so he could return to his pensive state of anger, he opened the front door in answer.
He felt his mouth fall open as he observed the unannounced caller.
Well, callers.
"G-guys" he stammered looking around the five young men that stood on his door step, "what are you all doing here?"
"Doesn't look very sick to me, what do you think Kevin?" the nearest thirty-something said accusingly.
"Nope, looks to be the pinnacle of health to me Jeff" came the immediate reply.
The three other men nodded their heads in sage agreement with this declaration.
Timothy McGee was far from sick. Therefore, Timothy McGee was going to the convention.
Barging into the young agent's apartment, all five MIT grads rounded on the still gawping Tim.
"You are coming with us right now Timmy, I know your work is important to you, but you can't miss out on a once in a lifetime experience just because of your obsessive 'never be overtired' rule."
McGee cringed as he realised that they had deduced this as his reason for cancelling the most coveted of plans. His never be overtired rule was infamous throughout his MIT days with the five men in front of him. His rigorous attention to achieving the optimum levels of sleep had resulted in him coming top of his class, so he had figured it had been worth the teasing.
Right now though, he wished it had never crossed his mind.
Holding up his hands in defence, he shook his head.
"Guys I just can't tonight, I'm sorry, I have uhh… my performance review tomorrow. It's kind of a big deal, I need to be on top of my game" he lied, feeling sick as he did so.
"Performance review" Kevin scoffed. "They're lucky to have you, and they know it, you'll be fine."
Four heads nodded in earnest agreement with this statement, casing McGee to smile slightly.
He'd really missed his friends. Of course, he loved his team. But, they never really understood him.
They thought him a geek, odd, different, but they accepted him. But they didn't understand him.
With the five men in front of him, he could be himself completely. No watching what he said in case he sounded like a nerd, no glares to shut him up when he got excited about a new piece of technology. Plus, they had made the effort to come and get him. What was he meant to do? Plus, he really, really wanted to go. Like, really wanted to go.
Besides, he wouldn't get caught. He wasn't Tony for crying out loud. And he'd stay in for one extra night when their grounding was lifted, thereby making up for tonight. Yes, that made perfect and reasonable sense he told himself, as he felt a grin spread across his face.
"Ok ok, let's go" he all but squealed, as he rummaged through his desk drawer for his ticket amidst the beaming faces of the other five technological enthusiasts. Soon, they were all piled into two cars on the way to what would surely be the one of the best nights of their lives. Tim took the time to surreptitiously reprogram his cell's GPS, so that it would show it him at home.
Just in case.
Some distance away from the location of the WoW convention and some time later, Tony and Gibbs lay sprawled in front of Tony's choice of film. The older man having grudgingly agreed they could take it in turns to determine the night's entertainment.
He pretended to be irritated by the kid's constant stream of narrative chatter, but in reality he enjoyed having Tony stay. He would have preferred it to be in less…corrective circumstances, but the boy seemed happy enough. As the agents chattering reached its crescendo, the elder man;s cell pinged.
Fishing it out of his pocket with a sigh and praying it wasn't a new case Gibbs flipped it open to a new MMS message from an old Marine buddy, also turned agent. Having been painstakingly taught by McGee how to deal with these newfangled picture messages, he frowned in concentration as he went through the various steps required to download the image to his archaic phone. He had silenced Tim's tirade on the historic values of his cell with a glare when he suggested he upgrade.
He got as far as the text portion of the text when he felt the first strains of confusion.
"How comes you didn't get roped into bringing your resident genius to this hellhole? I'm getting soft" the message read.
He waited patiently for the image to download, idly wondering what imbecilic joke his old buddy was twittering on about. He smiled briefly at the similarities between their two teams, the other former Marine had an almost replica of McGee on his team. Except, his McGee was currently in a wheelchair stemming from a field work accident. Which would explain why the former gunny had driven him to wherever the hell he was talking about.
The agent snorted. If the man wanted to see soft, he should see how his team had the formerly impenetrable Jethro Gibbs wrapped around their collective little fingers.
He was bolted upright from his chair and his thoughts as the image finally downloaded.
In startling clarity.
There, with his arms draped around the shoulders of some other kids he vaguely remembered seeing before, stood McGee. Plus his replica from Gibbs' friend's team. Right in front of a large WoW banner, welcoming all and sundry to the convention of a lifetime. With a date and timestamp, of today. Of half an hour ago.
Gibbs felt his head swoon slightly.
This couldn't be happening.
With Tony, ok it wasn't that much of a complete shock. It was still a shock however.
With Tim, he was absolutely astounded. He would never have believed it of the junior agent.
He grimly realised that when his former co-serviceman had joined his team for the latter stages of an investigation once before, that he had very briefly been introduced to McGee, who hadn't been paying attention at the time. The kid wouldn't have remembered him. But a Marine never forgot a face. He surmised that Tim must have known his counterpart from outside agency meetings. Otherwise, he would never have gotten into a photo with him, even on the off chance that it would be seen by his boss.
Obviously seeing the rapidly changing demeanour of the elder agent, Tony looked at him in concern.
"You ok boss?" he asked in confusion.
"No" Gibbs snapped "why can't any of you people just do as you're god damned told, it'd be easier to have toddlers for a team."
Tony's face fell instantly, and he looked away in obvious hurt.
Immediately regretting his completely unfair snarling, Gibbs felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm sorry Tony" he mumbled sincerely "it's nothing you've done, I shouldn't have snapped."
Gawping slightly, the senior field agent turned back to his boss.
"You don't believe in apologies" he stated wonderingly.
Smiling slightly despite himself, Gibbs nodded his agreement to the statement.
"There are exceptions to every rule, Tony. Even mine" he said simply.
Nodding and deciding not to press the issue, the boy looked intently at the older man.
"What's wrong then?" he asked intently.
Sighing and running his hands through his silver hair, much to the mounting alarm of the younger man, Gibbs didn't immediately answer.
"Boss?" Tony urged beginning to feel the beginnings of panic.
Standing up abruptly and placing a reassuring hand on his clearly anxious agent, Gibbs cleared his throat whilst he considered his answer.
"Do me a favour Tony, go upstairs and make room for McGee in your room. He will be…joining you shortly. I'm going to go out for a while, you do not leave this house, you understand?"
Nodding in shock, the younger agent couldn't make the words that raced around his minds channel their way through his mouth.
Satisfied with Tony's non verbal assurances, Gibbs felt the anger and disappointment flare up in him once more as he turned abruptly and stormed from the house.
Dropping his head into his hands, Tony let out a groan of despair and muttered into the now empty house.
"No McGee, you didn't. You fool. You're supposed to do as I say, not as I do."
With that miserable utterance, he dragged himself upstairs and obediently cleared his things off of Tim's bed, hoping all the while that there was some other explanation for the probie's sudden change in accommodation requirements.
Driving slightly haphazardly through the now dark streets, Gibbs soon reached his destination after consulting his unknowingly informing friend. Killing the engine outside the impressive looking building that was crawling with all manner of enthusiasts; he leaned back in the driver's seat. Closing his eyes in an attempt to get a handle on himself, he quickly exited the car and for the second time in recent days went in search of one of his wayward agents.
He felt horrifically out of place the minute he stormed through the door of the gathering. For one thing he was about thirty years older than everyone there and for another he might as well as had a sign on his head that read "not a genius."
Scowling, he pushed through the various groupings, his well practiced eye trained in search of McGee.
He didn't have to wait long, there talking animatedly to a circle of his friends was Tim. Completely oblivious to the hell that was about to rain down on his life in the next few seconds. Gibbs was forcibly reminded of his extraction of Tony from the bar a few days ago.
They even disobey me in the same way he thought angrily, as he pushed one last group of stragglers out of his way.
As he had done with Tony, he stealthily walked the perimeter of the grouping. McGee certainly didn't notice him. Briskly making his way to the kid's position in the circle, he made it just in time to hear the tail end of what must have been a particularly hilarious joke that Tim was telling, judging by the guffaws it produced from his audience.
Tim was still completely unaware of his boss's murderous presence.
Dropping down to the kid's range of audio, he leant in and whispered in his ear.
"Hey Tim, you having a good time?"
If it had been a less dire situation, the elder man would have chuckled at the seismic jump his conversational words drew from his agent. But it wasn't, and he didn't. He merely stared ferociously at the boy when he eventually managed to turn around and face him.
Luckily for Tim, the group were discussing the possible bugs in an expected software release and weren't paying any heed to the interaction between senior and junior agent.
"You will find some reason to get your ass out of his building in five seconds McGee, or I drag you out. Entirely your choice."
Gulping, Tim nodded frantically and quietly informed his friends that a new and urgent case had come in and he had to leave immediately.
Giving him sympathetic looks and pats on the back; his friends accepted this lie as truth and bade him a fond farewell as they turned back to their conversation.
And as Tim was surreptitiously turned towards the door, by a vice like grip on his arm.
The young man didn't dare protest, or open his mouth. Mainly because he was positively sure if he did so, he would merely be encouraging the nausea that engulfed him to progress to full blown throwing up.
As he was forcibly put into the passenger seat of his boss' car he fought the urge to get out and run. As fast and as far as possible.
Besides, he was hopeless at sports.
When the elder agent slipped into the driver seat, he instinctively turned to him.
"Boss, please, I can explain. I - "
"Silence" Gibbs merely snarled. "I don't want to hear you breathe McGee, let alone talk. Is that clear?"
Paling even further and feeling the clamminess spread throughout his palms, Tim nodded his head sadly.
He leant against the door as the car roared to life and felt misery overwhelm him.
Shooting a furtive glance at his boss, his obvious fears were realised.
This was going to be the longest car ride of his life.
…
TBC
…
A/N: Please feel free to leave any suggestions of things you would like to see happen! I've had a few great ideas left/sent to me, and I definitely plan on putting them in here somehow! I'd like to thank Toni M H for the suggestion of using the convention from a previous chapter as Tim's catalyst!
Anyways, thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!
