Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never been in an entire store devoted to Halloween, nor did he ever expect to. And if on the off chance he ever did set foot in a place like that, it would most likely not be in April.
At least, that's what he thought before that morning. In fact, before that morning he didn't even plan on leaving his home.
But Abby had a way of surprising him, and it was always better to go along with whatever she had planned. Arguing with her was generally useless because, for one thing, she almost always won. Worse than that, upsetting her always left a foul tang in his mouth and made his heart cramp ever so slightly.
Jethro often berated himself for allowing her to wrap him so firmly around her tiny, black-nailed finger. However, it wasn't as if he was alone. He could easily list three other federal employees who were in the exact same position, and one who was well on her way.
Nevertheless, none of them were being dragged through the entire city in an attempt to find a dress for a middle school dance.
Lucky them.
As hard as he tried to convince his daughter that he really wasn't any good at that sort of thing, Abby wouldn't be moved. In fact, she seemed exasperated every time he brought it up.
"Why can't Jenny take you? You two have been attached at the hip lately."
"I don't want her opinion, Gibbs. I want yours. Jenny isn't my dad."
It was extremely difficult to argue with that logic, not that he wanted to. He was secretly rather pleased that she trusted his judgment over another woman's.
As a result, he'd grudgingly driven her to the store, only to have her take one look at the place and declare every dress in it unacceptable. They'd marched back to the car, where Abby had given him directions to this place.
So now here he sat, tapping his foot and wincing at the pounding music that filled the silence of the store. It was a wonder that this place stayed open all year, he'd expected them to be one of the only customers. But yet again, he'd been mildly surprised. The store was crowded, so much so that there were lines at the register that wound well back into the costume section.
Gibbs checked his watch and looked over at the dressing room. He didn't have anywhere else to be, but Abby had been in there for an awfully long time and he would rather not have to barge into the women's dressing room to check on her. Not to say that he wouldn't if he had to, but he would never live it down if he got kicked out of the store because someone complained.
Just as he was about to get out of his chair, a pigtailed head poked out from the room before Abby rounded the corner. A smile spread across his face and he reached out to pull her in front of him.
"What do you think?"
The dress was…something else. On anyone but Abby it would've been over the top, he knew enough to tell you that. However, seeing what she normally wore made it seem entirely normal and almost probable. It was, of course, black, with red threading running through the length of it. The sleeves were long enough to reach her palms and wrap around her fingers, leaving them exposed. Overall, it was very Abbyesque.
"Beautiful, Abs."
She flicked her hips side to side, watching the skirt brush and rustle.
"It's very swishy," she said mildly, rocking on her heels.
"Your favorite."
Nodding seriously, Abby bit her lip.
"Derek will like it."
His good mood instantly became strained as he scowled and grumbled under his breath at the mention of her date for the dance.
"Not too much, he won't."
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was anxious to finish his boat for two main reasons. The most obvious one being that he was anxious to get out and sail. The second one being that one of these days, his daughter was going to crack her head open while using the shell of it like a jungle gym.
"Stop that," he warned, reaching up to lift her off the top of the unfinished boat where she had been hanging by her legs.
"Gibbs, not cool."
"Don't care, Abs. You already fell off once."
"You caught me! And besides, it was an unfortunate, yet isolated incident."
"Abby."
Giggling, she climbed her way to the other end and picked up her sanding block.
"Are we going to see Ducky tomorrow? And Mrs. Mallard?"
"Yep."
"Good. I like Mrs. Mallard, even if she calls me Beatrice sometimes. Her stories are as good as Ducky's, just a little less rooted in reality. The Corgis are fun, too. Hey Gibbs?"
"No."
A lightly painted affronted mask painted itself on her face.
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!"
"We're not getting a dog, Abs," he said, hoping it was true and he wouldn't give in.
"You don't seem to sure about that," snickered Abby, in a tone that told him she was hiding a smile. Gibbs growled good-naturedly and tugged at her pigtail, helping her detangle herself from the boat.
"Go to bed, brat. I'll be up in a minute."
The sight of her laughing and running up the stairs had become familiar, but he still never took it for granted.
It's just occurred to me that 4 AM is not what most people consider Friday, but it's when I do my best proofreading. Incidentally, I started Snowed In while watching Royal Pains last night and it did not come as easy as I thought. However, if everything is not updated by 4:30 tomorrow morning, you can assume I was hit by a bus, or some other tragic incident occurred. My life is a soap opera.
