"Boss, please, you absolutely have to let me go."

Gibbs pursed his lips as he leaned back in his chair, taking in a scowling McGee as he stood stubbornly in front of his desk. The familiar throbbing in his temples was beginning to creep in like a very discrete crescendo and he sighed in exasperation. He caught Tony's and Ziva's exchanged look of incredulity and could hardly blame them. McGee usually took no for an answer the first time he heard it and Gibbs was very fond of this particular trait. It gave him the energy to deal with the rest of them who never took no for an answer the first-time round.

"I don't have to let you do anything and the answer, for the last time, is no."

McGee, uncharacteristically, glared.

"That's not fair, Boss. You would totally let Tony go if the roles were reversed."

DiNozzo piped up in indignation and hissed a warning across the Bull Pen.

"Don't you dare drag me into this, Probie! I don't need any more of the Boss' attention right now... I've already been a victim."

Gibbs looked over McGee's shoulder at his gingerly sitting SFA and rolled his eyes.

"Calm the dramatics, DiNozzo. I barely warmed you up but that can always change."

Tony spluttered in disagreement but wisely kept his counsel, glaring at his computer screen and silently willing McGee to cut his losses and get back to work. Gibbs was in no mood for anything but results today and he'd already made the mistake of wisecracking instead of working and one private conversation with the Boss later, he very much wanted to day to be over. He would also never admit it out loud, but he didn't want to see the Probie being dragged upstairs for his own private conversation.

McGee, however, was not receiving his silent pleas.

"I'll make up the time I miss. You know I will. This convention comes to the States once every twelve years and I can never make its European showings because I'm always working. Why can't I just go? We don't have a case right now; we're just reviewing cold cases... it's not as if you need me. C'mon Boss... please? Please let me go."

Gibbs glared up at his youngest and took a deep breath, trying hard not to lose his cool.

"I said no, McGee. Now this is your final warning, take no for an answer and get back to work. I don't give a damn if you think cold cases aren't important, they are, and you're going to work them right now whether you like it or not."

He pointed to the kid's desk across the room with a pointed brow.

"Move it, McGee."

Tim seethed but turned abruptly on his heel and stalked back to his desk, calling Gibbs all manner of unholy names in his head. Sitting down, he grabbed another file from the tottering stack on his desk and snapped it open in a very poorly contained rage. He knew he was pushing his luck and could feel Gibbs' molten glare on him but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was so ridiculous that he couldn't take the day when they weren't even on an active investigation. It was a couple of hours that meant absolutely nothing to the Agency and absolutely everything to him.

He clenched his teeth together and tried to calm down.

He felt Tony's curious look on him and ignored it as he had ignored Gibbs' glare which was no longer on him. Neither of them could understand how important this was to him. All they cared about was their damned sports and cars. Things he had absolutely no time for in but at least tried to take an interest in them, because they were important to people who were important to him.

He was a fool for thinking they would return the favor.

If there was some dumb vintage car show in town that only came to the States once every twelve years not only would Tony be allowed to cut cold cases but Gibbs would probably go with him. It was par for the course that his interests and his hobbies were always disregarded as being nerdy and boring and therefore of no real importance. He scowled when his cellphone screen flashed and the group chat containing his MIT friends and alumna demanded to know what time they should pick him up. He glanced over at Gibbs who was deep into his own cold case and weighed up the pros and cons of asking again before quickly deciding it was a fool's errand.

His cell vibrated over and over again with the guys clamoring for an answer.

On the thirteenth loud vibration, Gibbs looked up in annoyance.

"McGee, will ya turn that damned thing off. It's driving me nuts. Unless it's a family emergency, tell whoever it is that you're meant to be working."

He glanced meaningfully at McGee's stack of unreviewed files which was significantly taller than the others. McGee moved to sullenly switch his off the vibrate function when Gibbs' words sparked an uncharacteristically reckless and dishonest idea. He hesitated but when his cell vibrated again and Gibbs looked up with a very pronounced growl, he acted as if on the most dangerous of auto pilots.

"Boss, it's Sarah. Something's really wrong... she won't say what, just that she needs me. She seems frantic. I might need to-"

Gibbs immediately looked up with real concern and pointed towards the elevator, speaking in a much calmer and borderline gentle voice.

"There is no might, McGee. She's your sister. Go on and see what's the matter. If we can do anything, well, you know where we are. Check in with me tomorrow if you need some time but keep your cell on so I can reach you if we get an active case."

McGee's mouth dropped open a jot but he recovered quickly. Nodding, he scrambled to his feet and tried to appear as innocent as possible as he swept from the room with a mumbled "thanks Boss", his gear bag slung over his shoulder. Ziva shot him a worried, sympathetic look as he walked passed her and gave the unspoken if there's anything I can do nod. So intent was he on getting into the elevator that he didn't see Tony's look.

Of horror.

Gibbs might know McGee in and out and so might Ziva, but Tony knew him in and out and then some. He knew he was lying to Gibbs. He knew that those messages were as much from Sarah as they were from Obama. He knew that Probie had lied so that he could go to that convention and the knowledge of it all filled him with dread. He swiftly rearranged his face as Gibbs' eyes found his.

"You make sure you're available for him if he needs ya, DiNozzo. You know how important his sister is to him."

Tony swallowed with great difficulty and forced his head to nod up and down.

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied, and returned to his file. Silence descended as four became three. Gibbs and Ziva worked steadily through their files without a care whilst Tony stared at the same paragraph over and over again, wondering how in the hell Probie thought he was going to get out of this one alive. His first instinct was to tell Gibbs, before McGee got himself into water too hot to ever recover from but it felt so wrong to rat the kid out no matter how much he drove him crazy. He wracked his brain endlessly for ideas to save the boy wonder.

Before he knew it, the wrap it up order came and he realized with a jolt that it was gone six pm. Passing by his desk, Gibbs sighed and reaching out, smacked Tony firmly upside the head drawing a surprised yelp. Looking up, the SFA shot him a wounded look.

"What was that for!?"

Gibbs pointed grimly to his tell-tale stack of unreviewed files and Tony blanched.

"My bad, Boss."

"Didn't I get through to you earlier?" Gibbs countered quietly to the backdrop of Ziva running for the hills. "Or do you really need yet another lesson as to the importance of cold cases?"

Tony shook his head firmly, cursing McGee silently.

"No, Boss. I got it."

Gibbs arched a brow that was positively dripping in disapproval.

"Clearly, you don't got it. If you did get it, this stack wouldn't the same size as it was four hours ago. You can just forget about finishing up at this reasonable hour, DiNozzo. You can just stay right where you are until this stack is cleared and on my desk. If I come in here tomorrow morning and there's a single comma not double checked in these files, we're going to be having a much longer conversation about the need to apply yourself to jobs you don't like every bit as much as jobs you do like. Are we clear?"

Tony scowled, but knew that to argue was to sign his own death warrant.

"We're clear," he said shortly, looking down at his desk in unconcealed annoyance.

"Good," Gibbs growled. "I expect you to be the one setting a decent example to McGee and Ziva. Not goofing off every second my damned back is turned."

It took Tony everything he possessed and then some not to snap at the unusually oblivious Gibbs that his precious McGee didn't need him to set a bad example given the fact he was currently ogling whatever geeky gadget was flavor of the month while Gibbs thought he was tending to his hapless baby sister. Instead, he gave another short jerk of his head and grabbed a file from the stack and got to work.

Gibbs sighed.

"Something you want to say, DiNozzo?"

A silent and rather mutinous shake of the tousled brown head.

"No, Boss."

"Ok then," Gibbs said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Night."

"Night," Tony replied grudgingly.

Assuming that the kid was too far into his sulk to talk sense into, Gibbs nodded and swept from the bullpen. Between McGee and DiNozzo, he had a headache fully ensconced behind his eyes and he was in dire need of a drink. Before long, he was happily sanding his latest creation down in his basement with a bourbon. His thoughts, as they often did, worked through the days happenings and he grabbed his cell, priding himself on his increasing ability to text, and shot a quick message to McGee.

"Hope everything is ok with Sarah, McGee. Let me know if you need anything."

Still in the hustle and bustle of the convention, McGee was having the time of his life. He didn't realize how much he'd missed his MIT friends and he couldn't have ever anticipated how amazing the tech conference he stood in would actually be. He was happily debating the relative merits of the drone both he and his friend Kyle stood in front of when he felt his phone vibrate.

He paled when he read the text, an avalanche of guilt taking the wind out of his sails.

"Hey, McGee? You still with me?" Kyle asked.

Tim swallowed and nodded, typing out a text with trembling fingers.

"All good, Boss. I'll be in tomorrow morning, first thing. Thanks."

Kyle eyed his longtime friend with concern as Tim's mind worked double time. He would never do something like this again, it was a complete one off. Gibbs never had to know; he was never going to find out. So... he might as well enjoy the rest of the night and chalk this one crazy lie of his career down to an impulse that was never to be repeated. He felt relief fill him as he convinced himself this was a good game plan and grinned. Kyle's concern vanished as they both turned back to the drone in front of them, Tim's voice taking back on the excited hue it always did when presented with new tech.

"What do you think of the circuitry? Isn't it a work of art?"

…...

A/N: Realized I hadn't really written a Tim/Gibbs one in a while, so here we go!