Title: 12 slaps for Christmas
Rating: PG-13, T
Category: Humour, general.
Character: Gibbs, DiNozzo, Abby, Team. (Exaggerated characters, OOC)
Summary: Abby gets festive, the team back her up... Gibbs gets wound up. Poor Tony. A song, a slap, and a slice of silliness. Set in Season 5 around Christmas.
Disclaimer: NCIS characters belong to Bellisario, CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: Originally posted Dec 08 on ff.net
Chapter 1 - Preparation
Gibbs stared at his gift... a small black box tied up with pink ribbon which had something on it... what were they... those tiny little black things that he could hardly see... skulls. He sighed. Only Abby!
He glanced at Ziva who was monitoring her gift with suspicion. She looked tense. Another black box pristinely wrapped and tied with the familiar pink ribbon. She had placed the box on her desk and was now surveying the corners... the lid and finally, the sides. He watched as she held her breath and very carefully lifted the box, looked underneath and then replaced the box on her desk. She visibly relaxed.
His gaze wandered to DiNozzo, perched on the front of his desk. Tony was rattling the little square box, lifting it to his ear and then rattling it again. He was trying to pull the pink ribbon back over the corners in order to open his gift. He was failing miserably.
Gibbs turned his head... to find Abby hugging Tim. His gift clutched in the hands that she currently had wrapped around him. The warmth she radiated was infectious and he allowed himself a brief smile.
He would give them a few minutes.
The team... his team... had done good. They’d all earned their pay cheques this week. In fact they’d worked them by mid Wednesday. They’d finally nailed the ‘son of a b’ earlier that day, he was in custody... going nowhere... apart from an eight year stretch in Leavenworth and they were at the report writing stage now.
“Arrgh! C’mon you...”
“Tony!” Abby shrieked, “You’re not allowed to open it until Christmas day.”
“What... Christmas day!” he cried, shaking his head, “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to last that long Abs.”
He grinned, rattled the box close to his ear and then began to try and pull the ribbon off over the corners.
Abby flew at him and they grappled for a moment until he held the little black box aloft and she pummelled him in the chest.
“Knock it off, DiNozzo!”
There was no mistaking where the stern command had come from.
He stopped struggling and looked apologetically at Abby before turning to face Gibbs with his best ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ expression. “Boss... c’mon... we’re... ”
“Still on the clock, DiNozzo.”
Curt... and it hurt. Nice one Gibbs... real nice.
Tony locked his jaw and turned back towards his desk. Under his breath and through clenched teeth, he muttered just for Abby, “Where’s his sense of fun?”
“Don’t answer that,” he whispered, cocking his head briefly to one side.
Abby smirked at him from beneath her darkened eyes. He loved that look. It was a look that inspired mischief, recklessness and rebellion. She brought out the worst in him... and the best. Abby pirouetted 180 degrees on her platforms and a wave of horror punched at his gut. What was she up to?
“Oh but Gi--bbs,” Abby protested, “I had a great idea to get everyone in the festive mood.”
“Not in the festive mood Abs.”
Abby pirouetted the remaining 180 degrees to face Tony again and then she winked. He had no idea where she was going with this but he was up for it ... especially after the week they’d had. The team needed some light relief... a little festive cheer... and so what if they were still on the clock... what about the times the past week that they’d worked on the clock... off the clock... around the clock... and through the clock... to hell with it... he’d face the consequences later.
“We should have a festive sing song.” Abby’s voice chorused the corners of NCIS headquarters, Washington D.C.
Heads popped up from behind desks scattered around the squad room. Agents, passing through on their way to MTAC stopped dead in their tracks. Even the elevator shuddered to a halt... ‘pong’... something was wrong with its ‘ping’.
Gibbs looked horrified. Ziva snorted. Tim smirked. Tony grinned.
“Abby...” Gibbs sighed.
“Yeah... the twelve days of Christmas,” Tony interrupted. He could see the glare from out of the corner of his eye and tried to ignore it. “You know the one.” He cleared his throat... noting the nod of affirmation from Abby... and began.
“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...”
“Wait... we could make this more interesting,” Abby chirped ignoring the stare from Gibbs... and Tony.
“Abs... you interrupted me mid...”
“Let’s make it up ourselves... no one can ever remember the order of those things anyway and...” she giggled, a wicked look shone in her dark eyes, “let’s make Gibbs give us the gifts instead. We could use... on the first day of Christmas the boss man gave to me...”
McGee hastily interjected, “Uh, Abby I don’t think Gibbs...”
Tony raised his voice ever so slightly and took a couple of paces towards McGee‘s desk. He just about avoided the blistering stare from Gibbs, although he couldn’t escape feeling the intense rays from two blue eyes scorching the back of his head as he launched into a slow, exaggerated, statesman-like speech, “Do you not think... McGee... that maybe Abby... by making the boss man give us gifts...”
“In the carol Tony,” Abby helpfully clarified from beside him.
“Quite right. Thank you Abby... I’ll take it from here.” Tony made a point of clearing his throat again.
“That... by making the boss give us gifts... in the carol...” He shot a glance at Abby who was brimming with positivity. “That Abby... is... in fact... giving Gibbs her own gift? Maa-Gee.”
Tony was in his element now. Nothing was going to stop him.
“A gift of warmth... admiration... and respect. And, Maa-Gee... you cannot buy this gift in any store... you cannot order this gift on-line... and... you cannot sell it on eBay after Christmas... Maa-Geek.”
Abby gasped in horror. “Timothy McGee... tell me you didn’t!”
“I didn’t Abby, I promise... he’s lying.”
Tony raised his hands in desperation. “Hey... McAbby... guys... in the middle here...”
Abby and McGee fell into silence. Gibbs was deathly quiet... probably just going to give him enough rope with which he could hang himself.
“As I was saying... this is a gift that has no monetary value... it comes from here,” he said turning, beginning to point towards Abby’s chest. He stopped, cleared his throat, turned back and thumped a fist on his own chest. “Here,” he coughed.
The speech wasn’t over yet.
“Are you denying Abby... the boss’s favourite... favourite forensic specialist... the boss’s ‘only’ forensic specialist... the opportunity to show him...” Tony threw a hand in Gibbs’s direction but didn’t look, “the boss... Gibbs... to show us... to show herself... how much she admires and respects... the man... she calls... ‘Boss man’?”
Abby jumped up and down giving Tony little claps and he turned to mouth a ‘thanks’.
“No, Tony... I’m not...” McGee rolled his eyes and gave up.
He... was done... literally. There’d be no coming back from this now. Might as well go all out.
“Okay then... I’ll start. On the first day of Christmas the boss man gave to me...a...”
A/N: 0 down, 12 to go.
“C’mon SA3... you’ve worked with him for ages. What do you get him for Christmas? What does the boss need?” McColleague asked.
“A sense of humour,” SA3 absently replied, concentrating hard on the game of Tetris he was playing on the brand new cell.
McColleague let out a loud cough as the boss strode into the office and surveyed the scene.
SA3 could barely contain the irritation in his voice. “What now McColl... you wanna know what ‘he’ gives me each year for Christmas?”
McColleague winced at the resounding crack made by the boss’s uncompromising hand connecting sharply with the back of SA3’s head.
“Thought you’d want it early this year,” the boss seethed “But don’t worry SA3... if you don’t like it you can always exchange it...” he said, trapping SA3’s eyes in his own, “for a pink slip.”