Threadbare

An NCIS oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. That lovely moment when a previous season inspires current OTP feels. XD Read, review, and enjoy! *Note: Set any time after s19e17, "Starting Over," but no spoilers for that. This was also a request by justtopostmyfic on AO3, asking for a Parknight with some Parker whump so ofc Knight needs to take care of him on the DL. ;)

- ^-^3

"See? What did I tell ya?" McGee's grin stretched from ear to ear as their waiter brought a fresh round of drinks and nachos to the table. "It's been too long since we had any proper time off. We needed this. And, Parker—" He raised his eyebrows as well as his glass of coke to toast.

Parker scoffed and rolled his eyes as the others raised their glasses, too. He reluctantly joined in after Knight bumped her shoulder against his. "Hey, I'm a fun guy. I go out," he insisted.

Torres whooped, causing a ripple of laughter through their bunch, but Fornell grinned over his beer at Parker. "Watch out, Alden. We can make you regret those words."

McGee squinted at Fornell. "What 'we'? Not that we hate your company, Fornell, but originally I had invited the team only."

"And I like to haunt those ghastly orange walls, McGee. Just consider me your friendly neighborhood Tobias."

"Just loosely define 'team,' Tim," Torres insisted. "The director of course turned you down."

"And Ducky says he's busy researching something he claims he can't wait to disclose to us, whatever that means," Kasie piped up, gesturing to her and Jimmy, who nodded in agreement. "Plus, I invited the Cyber crew, but it's their weekly Halo night."

"And Ronnie would probably be the life of the party, had she come along, but she comes with baggage in the form of Sawyer," Torres huffed. "And he is the cold water on the fire of fun, my friends."

This time, Parker wasn't the only one to roll his eyes, having to hear Torres gripe about Sawyer for the umpteenth time.

Torres finished his drink and craned his neck to look around another patron at the table behind them. His eyes lit up and he nearly slammed his glass down with a gigantic grin. "Hey! They have a karaoke machine!" He swiveled his head back, scanning the less-than-enthused faces. "Who's with me?"

Fornell shrugged. "I'm down—but I pick first, Torres."

Parker dragged a hand over his face as the terrible twosome made a beeline for the microphones. "I thought nachos meant we were wrapping things up?"

"We were," McGee answered, shooting Parker an apologetic look. "Sorry, sorry. I know it's a school night…"

Parker sat a little straighter on his stool and avoided the matching puppy looks on Knight's, Kasie's, and Jimmy's faces. "No, it's—it's good we had a nice night out, McGee. But we do have another day ahead of us, even if tomorrow is a Friday."

"On that note," Jimmy said, checking his watch, "it's extremely late. I know I told my mom not to let Victoria wait up for me, but she's getting more headstrong like Breena." He chuckled and gathered his things. "Oh, Kasie—need a ride?"

McGee double-checked the time, too, looking a little pale when he saw his phone. "Uh-oh. Missed texts from Delilah. I gotta scram. See you tomorrow, everyone," he said before paying his portion and dashing out of the bar. Jimmy and Kasie left two minutes after McGee.

Knight stood but eyed the wild, dancing karaoke duet with Parker for a moment longer before grabbing her jacket and purse, too. She bumped her shoulder against his playfully once more. "Well, 'night, Parker—hey." She stopped short, narrowing her eyes at him. "Parker, you all right? You look a little…green."

Parker, relieved to tear his eyes away from Torres and Fornell's commotion, glanced back at Knight and shook his head. "I'm good, Knight. I barely had anything to drink." Not to mention he could keep his liquor down, but that was beside the point. He nudged the napkins and empty plates on the table. "I pretty much dove into the food we ordered at the start."

"Two hours ago," she pointed out.

It wasn't the timeline but simply the mention of food that triggered a familiar sensation in the back of his throat, travelling down his middle to his stomach. Parker stood, rifled through his wallet for the cash to cover his own share of the check, and hastened to drop it on the table, all so he could hustle outside for some fresh air.

Knight scurried behind him. "Parker, what the hell? Are you sure? You don't—"

But he insisted on allaying her worries. "The fresh air was all I needed," he replied in as even a tone he could manage.

Knight pursed her lips but didn't argue.

Then Parker felt that telltale clench in his stomach and had time enough to dart around the left-hand side of the restaurant to vomit. A shame. He hadn't wanted to see the nachos so soon again. He'd liked the nachos.

"Dammit, you're clearly not fine," Knight griped, coming up behind him. But, despite her tone, she placed a hand on his back, a soothing, warm gesture when he was between heaves. And she stayed put for the whole duration, which felt like an hour but likely was only a few minutes.

Eventually, the initial emergency passed and Parker straightened up. He dug a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth and beard. He swallowed some remaining sourness in his mouth and went to thank her—

—but Knight stared him down, having grown accustomed to his brand of sweeping any of his issues under the rug. "I don't know if you're drunk or sick, but you're not driving yourself home, Parker. We're leaving. Now."

He blinked. Her bossy tone took him a bit unawares, but he knew better than to protest that tone of voice. So he acquiesced and followed behind Knight.

Truly, though, it was a good thing that she organized his next actions. The more Parker walked, the more his stomach soured. By the time they reached her car and she opened the passenger door, he slumped into the seat and could barely buckle himself in. Knight rustled up a plastic bag for him as well as a bottle of water to sip, but they weren't on the road for long before he noted how often she kept darting her eyes to him.

He raised his eyebrows in question, too weak to talk.

"Yeah, change of plans—my place is closer."

But he barely registered her words before Knight took a turn and headed in the opposite direction from his neighborhood. And that set the tone for the entire ride, really. He faded in and out as she drove, and it wasn't the fault of the hour. The heaves returned, quickly turning dry since his stomach had no further contents to offer, and each heave drained him more and more of what little energy he had left. He couldn't even fathom that he had just been having a night out with his team. That felt like a lifetime ago. And this lifetime, at this second? It was just Parker and his insides trying to escape. He'd heave, pat his mouth dry with a handkerchief he planned to torch when this was all over, and sip some water despite the burn that came along with the liquid sliding, slicing down his gullet.

Goddamn. Was this really how a Special Agent was supposed to go?

They arrived at a cream-colored stucco building—and, of course, the thought of cream sent Parker's stomach seizing and heaving again—and Knight pulled into the lot behind it. She cut the engine and dabbed sweat off his brow with a tissue. But then came her Herculean task: moving Parker.

She managed him well, despite his imitation of a dead weight. Knight hauled him out of her car, into the elevator, up to her floor, and over her threshold after jiggering her keys with only a few free fingers.

Parker was hit a by a few things, entering Knight's apartment. One was the lingering staleness in the air covered up with spice—it was a blend of curious scents. Two…well, he literally hit item two, stumbling over the small ottoman parked just inside her door when they entered.

"Whoa, there," Knight said, catching him before he crashed into something else or slipped from her grip. She half dragged him over to her couch, settling him there and shrugging him out of his jacket. She produced another tissue to dab more sweat off his face as he swayed. "Hey. Parker."

He was officially empty now, no reserves left even to keep his eyes open.

And, as Parker drifted off to sleep, Knight's voice only grew more panicky. "Hey! Parker, c'mon! Cripes, Parker. Alden Parker, you listen to me—"

- ^-^3

When Parker woke, it was thanks to the cool touch on his face. Fingers lightly grazed his cheeks and brow and traced their paths back, a lazy saunter, but a welcome one nevertheless. It put him at ease, especially since he was working up the energy to open his eyes.

But, even with his eyelids blocking out the rest of the world, he thought things felt…odd. Things didn't add up. Wasn't he at the bar, with the team? …no…he'd left with Knight… But then how in the hell had he ended up on a couch? He could feel the seams where the cushions met under his back. And there was a pillow under his head, as well—but he was surprisingly warm, too.

Finally, he pried open his eyes.

Knight peered down at him, pausing combing her fingers through his hair. A lamp off to her left cast a halo of light on her dark hair. "Hey, you."

Parker licked his lips. "…hey."

"You're alive, just so you know."

He blinked, slowly, and stared up at her as fragments of the last several hours—mostly, of Knight—came back to him. He wondered if angels could be bossy or as chaotic as Knight could sometimes be, but he kept the thought to himself.

"You feeling better?" she asked, keeping her voice soft. Her apartment was quiet except for their voices.

"What the hell happened?"

With her free hand, Knight produced her phone, unlocking it and scrolling through something on the screen. All the while, her eyes skimmed over what Parker assumed was an exchange. "Apparently the others forgot about a certain incident with tuna poppers from this same bar a long while back. So when we ordered them tonight…"

Suddenly much more of the puzzle clicked into place. Parker reached up a hand to drag over his face, glad the mention of food didn't bother him anymore, but his arm weighed a ton. Shit. He was still too exhausted. "Ah, hell," he groaned.

"Yep. Victoria texted Kasie that Jimmy won't be in tomorrow, and McGee barely made it home, too."

"And what about Thelma and Louise?"

"I don't think Torres or Fornell ate as much as you three." Knight set her phone aside and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm very glad I ordered mac and cheese to split with Kasie. No food poisoning for either of us."

Parker sighed and dropped his arm, which sort of flopped on the couch in its current useless state. He went back to staring up at Knight, which she didn't appear to mind. She calmed him. She was also a nice sight. Then he recalled one of the blanks she had yet to fill in. "Wait, where am I?"

"My place. You only calmed down about an hour ago, Parker." She chuckled at herself, glancing at the room before looking at him again. "It's not pretty, but it was the nearest option to take care of you."

Hearing her say "take care of you," he couldn't help but feel mildly embarrassed. It had been quite the night already. …but then his embarrassment grew when it finally registered that she sat on the couch with him stretched out with his head on a pillow on her lap. No wonder he'd been warm despite no blanket or—oh, she must've hung his jacket up.

Knight either didn't acknowledge his ordeal or ignored it, resuming stroking his hair absentmindedly as she picked up her phone once more with her free hand after the device dinged. "Oh, there's Delilah—yep, she says it's no different than taking care of the twins when they're under the weather." It dinged again and she pouted. "Damn it. Nick says he had some gas. He got off so lucky." She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side, gesticulating with her phone. "Also, I really don't want to know about him having gas."

Parker chuckled. He didn't either, but Knight's entertaining reaction was kind of worth it.

Another text came in. "Yeah…Kasie's already saying she's gonna miss us all tomorrow." Knight raised her eyebrows and blew out a long breath before tossing her phone onto the couch.

But Kasie's text was the only one that didn't make sense to him. Parker quirked an eyebrow and reached up, catching Knight's fingers in his. "But…you didn't catch this. Right?" She seemed fine. She felt fine. He wanted her to be fine.

Knight ducked her eyes. "Well…no, but I told them I ate one popper. Just enough to unsettle my stomach, make my night questionable." She shrugged off the guilty act as an impish smile curved up her lips. "Or are you going to be able to fend for yourself once it's morning proper?"

He made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "Didn't know you were down for playing hooky, Knight." He smirked.

"Only because I have a soft spot for cryptic former FBI agents who think they're real tough guys."

Parker stared at her, knowing she was waiting for something as she returned his smirk. "Touché," he conceded.

Knight laughed.

He released her hand, reluctantly. But her good mood was infectious and energizing.

Knight tousled his hair and leaned over him more, her face nearing his…but, in the end, that was so she could gently switch his pillow from her lap to the couch, allowing her to stand and stretch her legs. She toyed with his hair one more time before walking around the couch and disappearing from his sight. "Do you want or need anything, Parker?" The running water and clinking pans told him her kitchen was beyond this mountain of a couch.

Parker took a breath and checked himself. "Nah, I'm good. Thank you, Knight."

Knight shuffled back into view a few minutes later, snacking on the go and tidying up her living room a bit in the process. But she also tried not to stray too far, her eyes still wandering to him whenever she passed by the couch.

He was content to watch her walk around her home, though. It wasn't only that letting him be still helped him recover. This gave him a chance to muse on that proximity before she got up and on their talk… Parker wondered what might've happened if he weren't otherwise indisposed—in fact, he felt as threadbare as the couch he occupied, the pillows on which she'd propped him…and, with a squint and a sniff when Knight wasn't looking, he confirmed that her throw pillows had food stains yet smelled comfortingly like spice. He chuckled, distracting Knight from some haphazard dusting on her TV.

Somehow, the chaos that was Jessica Knight was all the more amusing and appealing to him.

- ^-^3

*asdfghjkl* I feel delirious myself, having just finished this. XD WHY IS THEIR CHEMISTRY SO DANG NATURAL?! WTF! At the same time, I find myself more than ever screaming over physics. Bc. I want to write Parknight. I want to draw Parknight. In order to try to tackle all my ideas, I rly need to be two people. ;w; *screams into the void*Anyway! I'm no stranger to hurt/comfort fics and I've previously written a sickfic for an OTP in HQ!, but this was my first attempt at proper whump of any sort. X'D In this case, bc I figured out early on why Parker got sick, it was a lot of fun to write, bc there were some fun, humorous elements. :D And YOU BET that's the same bloody bar the team visited in Dec 2019, at the end of s18e2, leading to those awful hangovers and Nick's night of tub-hugging mentioned in s18e3. You can't rly fault Nick and McGee for forgetting about the incident. I had to run with it! XD But also—Fornell cameo, bc he's fab. This felt more like implied/ambiguous Parknight to me, bc htg their closeness is like… *eyes emoji* No kissing bc puke mouth, *LOL*, but damn if I don't almost wanna continue this with more snuggles. XDDD (Or maybe this gets a sequel in art form? IDK. Haven't decided yet. Still enjoying the feels in this.) Anywho! Please go read my other Parknights if ya haven't already, or feel free to request! I hope you enjoyed this one, too, jtpmf! This was sweeter to write than I thought! :'D

Thanks for reading, and please review! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this. And, as with my other NCIS fics, show your support via tumblr with a reblog~

-mew-tsubaki 8D