Probie's Coffin Chapter 8: Two Birds, One Stone, A Loon, and A Duck!
Disclaimer: "OMG! Gibbs, you are never going to believe what I just found out! LMR do-"
"Doesn't own NCIS. I already know, Abby."
"I hate it when he does that!"
Spoilers: Too darn many to list!
Pairings: 100 Mcabby Tate for me!
Author's note: Sorry it's taken so long to update. A certain nitwit in Tim's T-shirt kinda screwed up my timeline! I wanted to see if they would deal with it this week, but since they didn't, I will (Muahahahahaha!) And yes, Theoretical, I think Sporks and cheeznips are the way to go, although I would mind seeing Abby use her as target practice with that paintball gun! SWAK was somewhat disappointing, really. I mean, didn't these guys ever watch the Nanny, when somebody's dying they're supposed to tell somebody they love them then take it back. Come on, oldest thing in the book and all we get is talk about Alien!
And after 'hometown hero' a big fat I TOLD YOU SO to certain members of my family whose initials are not M.O.M. who doubted my gaydar in the case of Abigail Scuito.
REALLY BIG AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think, my fanfic friends, we all know what
this sad note is about. After Twilight I played My Heart Will Go On on
my stereo for three hours in a row and cried. To add insult to injury,
the only copy of the song I have is the one sung by Sarah Brightman:
in ITALIAN! So needless to say that was a sobfest. But after
cursing the writers for two solid hours, I have come to the conclusion
that for me, no Tate, no show. I really don't want to watch any new
ones. . . however, I've started to cheer up. When I wrote one of my
first fanfictions, I wrote the disclaimer 'I didn't make the characters.
I just move their mouths and make them say happy things!' Well,
they gave us the stage and the puppets, and I'm a control freak, so on
the bright side, I'm no longer going to worry about making my stories
fit what the writers on the show do. So anyone sticking to the story-
line should probably stay away from my NCIS fics: in my world, the
series ended when Gibbs and Tony pulled Kate up off the ground and
joked about Pilates. I'll write some happy adventures for these nutbags
myself! In my world-KATE LIVES.
If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended: That you
have but slumber'd here while these visions did appear. And this weak
and idle theme, no more yeilding but a dream. William Shakespeare
and Dorothy Zbornack
Two Birds, One Stone, A Loon, and A Duck!
Tony answered McGee's phone despite (or probably because of) the fact that Tim was standing right there. "NCIS, Senior Agent Tony DiNozzo speaking." He winked at Kate. "Yes, Tim is right here." He held the phone just out of Tim's reach.
"Gimme," McGee hissed.
"May I ask who is calling?" he asked politely. "Okay, Dolores Posteur? One moment please."
Tim whacked his own head for a change. "Dolores, I completely forgot."
"Oh," Tony relayed into the phone. "It seems he completely-"
McGee wrestled the phone away from Tony. "Dolores, hi. Hey, I'm really sorry about the other day. I got called into work on an emergency, and I didn't want to wake you up." Kate and Tony exchanged glances. "And my idiot coworkers decided to break into my apartment." Said coworkers grinned. "Mm, I'd really like to tonight, but I've already made dinner plans with a coworker." He paused, then his face set into a tight frown, "No, not 'that Annie girl I always talk about' and her, never mind." Kate could have sworn she saw Gibbs smirk. "I'm going to dinner with Ducky." A pause. "He is the M.E. here." He paused, longer this time and Tony could tell from experience that he was getting chewed out. "Of course I want to. Why don't you come? Sure, it'll be fun. Ducky won't mind a bit. Okay, see you then." He smiled (but not too much.). "Bye."
"Oh, Tony, our little boy is growing up and noticing girls," Kate teased good naturedly.
"Good," Tony added. "Abby won't have to give back that toy she borrowed from your closet for the demonstration a couple weeks ago," Kate burst out laughing.
But Tim hadn't seen it. "What toy?"
"Good thing, too," he pointed out. "I think when she suffocated it she might have let some of the air out." Kate was trying now not to laugh. This was too cruel. Still, she had to admit that she'd been surprised that that particular joke hadn't occurred to him when they first saw it. He'd been too busy, she realized, reddening, imagining her junior spring break. (A.N.: I know, I'm fired.)
McGee was still confused, probably a good thing, as he might be a little taken aback by afore mentioned toy, which for the record, I am not claiming was borrowed out of his closet. He frowned. "I have to go talk to Ducky."
"There now, dear Sarah Mari, you can go back to your family first thing in the morning," Ducky was saying to a corpse as Tim walked in. McGee hated going to autopsy, despite the fact that Ducky was there.
"That's really sweet, Ducky," he waited until he was finished with the body before going into the room.
"Yes, Sarah here," he gestured to the mutilated body, "Will finally be at peace, and her tragic death was not in vain. Her family has won a settlement from the cosmetic surgery company that encouraged this to happen, and more importantly, they've improved their screening process, so poor souls like Miss Mari here will receive the psychological help that they need rather than be preyed upon by surgeons hoping to benefit from their distorted body image."
"Good job, Ducky."
"Oh, you can thank Eleanor. She pointed out the possibility of dysmorphia."
Tim didn't look so happy now. "Oh, her."
"Ducky noticed that something was wrong. "Don't you like Miss Eleanor?"
He shrugged. "She's okay, I guess."
"I must say I'm surprised. She and Abigail seem to be getting on famously."
"Yeah," he agreed, "Famously." He was pouting, and Ducky, sensing something, decided to change the topic.
"Incidentally, Timothy, what brings your to your least favorite place?"
"About tonight, I was wondering if I could bring a date? I kind of owe her."
"Oh, a lady friend, Timothy! How is that going?"
"Well, she's really pretty. And she likes me. She says she likes shy, quiet guys."
Ducky nodded. "How nice. By all means, bring her along."
Tim smiled. "Thanks." As he left, Jimmy very conveniently walked into the room.
"Mr. Palmer?"
"Yes, Doctor Mallard?"
"I wonder if you would be free for dinner tonight?"
"Well, yeah. Um, why?"
Ducky smiled. "Well you know I consider Miss Scuito a dear friend."
Jimmy brightened, hoping dinner would involve Abby. "Yeah?"
"I think I'm going to do a favor for her."
"Um. Okay."
"Is that gigolo coming?" Mrs. Mallard demanded.
Ducky rolled his eyes, fixing his tie. "No, Mother, and his name is Anthony. Tonight we are having dinner with Timothy McGee." He knew immediately after the words left his mouth that he shouldn't have said that.
"McGee?" she boomed. "That's an Irish name!" Oh, boy, here it comes. "He's a drunk!"
"No, Mother, Timothy is a very nice young man and I have never once seen him inebriated. We're also going with Mr. Palmer," he added hoping to distract her.
She rolled this name over in her mind, and finding nothing to pounce on, simply pursed her lips tightly and asked, "Why is he coming?"
"As a favor for Miss Sc- Abigail." He stopped himself just in time.
"Five, non-smoking, please," Ducky requested at the restaurant. "I hope it's all right with everyone that I've brought a guest. This is my mother, Mother, this is James, Timothy, and you, Miss?" he asked the girl, who was at this time, wearing clothes.
"Dolores Posteur," she introduced herself. She shook hands with everyone.
Ducky frowned in concentration. "Interestingly enough, if you translate, loosely of course those names into Spanish and French respectively, the origins- Ow! Mother!" He responded to a whack upside the head.
Jimmy turned her wrist to look at a silver charm on Dolores's bracelet. "Is that a walrus? (That's for you, Theoretical: you are the walrus!)"
She smiled. "Yeah, I did some volunteer work in marine rescue, they're my favorites."
"No kidding!" Jimmy was so excited he nearly tripped over his seat. "I started my major in marine biology before switching to premed!"
Dolores was animated. "Wow. I considered medicine, but it's all too much into computers. I really only like them for games." Tim looked like he was about to choke. "I think society's become too reliant on them." Now he was turning purple.
Ducky sensed that this was not going well, so after they ordered he quickly changed the subject. "It's a shame Caitlyn couldn't be here tonight; she's been looking down lately."
Mrs. Mallard perked up at the mention of another name. "Caitlyn? Have you been seeing a lady without telling me?"
"No, Mother," Ducky assured her. "Caitlyn is my coworker. You've met her; she's a very nice lady. There is absolutely nothing about her not to like."
Jimmy thought maybe Dr. Mallard needed help. "Yeah, really well behaved. Didn't she go to Catholic school?" Ducky winced.
"A Catholic school-girl!" she hissed. "She's a slut!" Ducky's head sank. "She's probably sleeping with that gigolo," she declared.
At this revelation, Dolores became intently aware of her shoes, the color of which Jimmy suddenly felt was the most interesting thing in the room to talk about. Tim, on the other hand, burst out laughing.
"Oh, please don't tell them that, Timothy," Ducky pleaded.
"Oh, come on, Ducky, I have to have a little fun at work!"
"Oh, if you must have fun at work why not go down to the lab to Abigail and play with your toys like you always do." McGee turned a color not unlike the small intestine Ducky had examined earlier that day. "That is, work on your computers, with our friend."
His pallor wasn't improving. "I need to go to the restroom, I'll be right back."
When he was gone, Ducky attempted to make polite conversation. "How long have you been seeing our Special Agent McGee?"
"Oh, only a couple of weeks."
Mrs. Mallard eyed her suspiciously. "What kind of name is Posteur?" (A.N.: A cookie to anyone who can tell me what the name means!)
"Excuse my mother, please; she's had a stroke." The others nodded obligingly.
Dolores occupied herself by doodling a sun on her napkin. Ducky sifted through his mind trying to think of a good topic. The girl with dysmorphia? Not at dinner. Eleanor? No use starting a fight, and he didn't even want to know what his mother would say about her. Good thing she had never met Abigail. He pushed aside the thought that it might be somewhat entertaining to introduce them, and began a conversation with Palmer.
"Do you know how Jethro is coming with his boat?"
Jimmy shrugged, glad for the casual conversation. "I really don't know much about what Gibbs does."
"I hear he's made some good progress," Ducky offered.
"Oh, well that's good," Dolores piped up.
"Not really, Miss Posteur, I'm sorry to say that only means Jethro's been frustrated. It's really a pity he can't have a hobby to indulge in when he's happy."
"It would never get done," McGee added jovially. Everyone who worked in the office laughed. McGee turned red again. "Am I going to get in trouble for that?" he wondered.
"I won't say a word, Timothy. I'm very good at keeping secrets. It reminds me of a secret I kept for a friend in Japan. You see, he was an American chap. He was absolutely intrigued at the fact that there, melons are considered a delicacy. Not exactly a local crop, you know. Well, they're especially valuable when grown in unusual shapes, squares and such. They grow them in a mold. Not as in penicillin, mind you, like jell-o. Well, my friend, an American, good chap, mind you, but terrible with currency. Interesting word currency, it literally means, to flow, as money is what's thought to make commerce and in turn, civilization flow. Rather sad, really. Point being, this fellow was dreadful at even changing American dollars to pounds, let alone yen, so he paid what he believed was a few reasonable dollars for this molded melon. Keep in mind it was just a square melon, no penicillin involved. Well, sure enough we get to the currency exchange, and my dear friend realizes he's paid the equivalent of about one hundred dollars for the square melon! So embarrassed he swore me to secrecy. Now, um, what was I saying?"
Tim smiled. "You were talking about how good you are at keeping secrets," he reminded Ducky.
"Oh, yes, of course. Well, certainly you should know that, Timothy. I never did tell a soul about that poison ivy, not even Abigail." Tim blushed and Jimmy laughed a little.
McGee leaned toward Dolores. "He's a little silly, but very intelligent."
She nodded. "I can tell. I like him, he reminds me of Professor Dumbledore."
"Who?" Tim wondered.
Jimmy became interested again. "Hey, you're right. You're a Harry Potter fan?"
"Definitely!" (A/N: Oh, no, I'm starting to like her! Well, I like her just fine as long as she stays away from "MyGee.") "I can't wait for Half-Blood Prince! I'm going to a release party, and I wanted Tim to come with me, but he thinks it's goofy."
"I think it sounds like fun!" Jimmy said interested.
"It's ridiculous," McGee asserted.
"Oh, that's nothing," Dolores pointed out. "What I really don't get is those weirdoes who dress up all crazy and go to parties and role play where they masquerade around as vamp-"
At this point Jimmy, who wasn't all that crazy about McGee, but knew impending disaster when he saw it, took the opportunity to spill his water everywhere. "Oh, I'm am so sorry about that. Oh, Dolores, it got on your nice skirt, I'm sorry."
"No worries, it's just water. I could go for dessert." The others agreed, and all talk of masquerade parties was forgotten.
As they left the restaurant that evening, Dolores and Jimmy were chatting happily, and Ducky was fervently trying to convince his mother that the gigolo and the slut were not having an affair. He didn't even try to convince her that she shouldn't call them that - half of it was true, and he knew she would forget by the next time she ever saw them. But he clarified over and over that there was nothing going on between them. (Again, he was not entirely convinced of this.) He did this not because he really cared what his mother thought about the situation, but because it seemed to amuse McGee, who was looking rather dejected at having essentially lost his date to Palmer.
But there was something nagging at McGee that he couldn't explain. Along with the annoyance, he felt some semblance of relief. Not that there was anything about Dolores, really, but seeing Palmer so stricken with her felt like a weight off his shoulders. Strange. As Ducky pulled up to McGee's apartment to let him out, Dolores gave him a questioning look. Should I come in? she was wondering.
"I've got some stuff I have to take care of tonight. I'll see you later." He said goodbye to everyone, and went immediately to Google, where he spent a great deal of his free time. Not sure why he did, he typed in "chi," and spent the night studying.
Funny how a T rated story can make us all think such M thoughts! ;P