NCIS fic: They Call Me Boss
They Call Me Boss [NCIS, Tim, Tony, Ziva, Gibbs, Abby, PG-13, 1,119 words, post 6x02. For newkidfan - a belated birthday giftlet.]
"Boss," Tony says, and Tim can't help it-he's had four months of conditioning, answering is a reflex.
"Yes," he says, as though he's back in the sub-basement. At the exact same moment as Gibbs says, "Yes."
Tim sinks down behind his desk and hopes and prays that his 'yes' went by unheard.
As if he ever had that much luck. He looks up. Gibbs has that look on his face that might be a smile but might equally be a shark viewing his next meal-the two are so similar it's hard to tell them apart. Tim thinks (hopes) Gibbs might be secretly amused.
Tony, however, is glaring at him, hands on hips like a prima donna (though Tim isn't going to risk saying that), and damn but everyone in this team has a glare down pat apart from Tim.
"Seriously, McGeek?" Tony says. "You think when I say boss I mean you?"
"No. Sorry, Tony," Tim says, and shrugs as apologetically as he can. There's really nothing else he can say.
"Get your gear," Gibbs calls, already heading out, and Tim has rarely been so grateful for the reprieve. He grabs his bag and tries to put a laughing Ziva between himself and Tony on the way to the elevator, but Tony still manages to swat the back of his head.
*
They've split up for the case. Ziva and Gibbs are down at the naval yard interviewing colleagues of the dead marine, while Tim and Tony drew the short straw and are knee deep in stinking, squelching mud in the estuary where Lieutenant Walker's body was found.
Tim has a bucket by the side of him. It's filling up with algae covered driftwood, dead rockfish, broken oily shells, a green bottle with a cork that smells of raw sewage, and several unidentified brown lumps that Tim is sure are semi-fossilized feces.
"Catch, McGee," Tony calls, and Tim straightens up and catches-A worm.
"You're disgusting, Tony," Tim says, and drops it. It wriggles away into the mud.
"Found anything interesting yet?" Tony asks.
Tim shakes his head. "Nothing that belonged to Lieutenant Walker. But I've found half a booby."
Tony looks up, suddenly interested. "A booby? Show me!"
Tim grins and holds up half a dead bird.
"I can only see one booby," Tony says, looking pointedly at Tim, "and it isn't the bird you're holding. Which, for the record, is a Herring gull."
"Since when do you know anything about the feathered type of birds?"
"Four months as agent afloat, McGee. Four months. I got to see plenty of gulls." He shudders, and starts sifting through the mud again, muttering under his breath. Tim can't hear him properly, but he thinks he catches four months and no boobs.
When his cell rings, Tim pulls off his filthy gloves with a sigh of relief for the moment's break.
"Hello, Boss." It's Ziva, voice deep and sultry, and Tim gulps.
"It's me, Tim. I, um, thought Gibbs was with you," he manages.
"He is," Ziva says, and manages to make it sound the dirtiest phrase Tim's ever heard.
"But. I thought you said- Didn't you just call me-?" Tim stammers awkwardly.
"I did. Don't you like it, Boss?" Tim's heard Ziva using this voice before, undercover and wired and all set on seduction. He's just never had it turned on him before. He feels all his blood rush south.
He drops the phone and watches helplessly as it sinks into the mud.
"Probie! You idiot," Tony says, and clips him behind the ear.
Tim sighs. Ziva is evil, Tony is mean, and his cell is probably ruined. And he apparently reacts in a most unfortunate and embarrassing way to Ziva calling him Boss. He pulls his jacket down and thinks of unpleasant things. At least that's easy. He looks in his bucket.
*
He's resolute. If he hears anyone say Boss he isn't going to respond in any way other than to look up for Gibbs. No matter how they say it.
He can decondition himself.
*
Abby's gotten his phone laid out on the bench in front of her.
"It's a mess, McGee," she says, frowning at him admonishingly. "You can't treat delicate equipment this way and still expect it to work."
He hands her a CafPow and reaches over to pick up the bits. "Thanks for trying, anyway," he says.
"Did I say I couldn't repair it?" Abby asks, slapping his hand away. She takes a long slurp of her drink and looks at him over the straw.
"Um, no?"
She nods. "Exactly. I just said you should be more careful and shouldn't drop your phone in the mud. Give me two more minutes, and it'll be as good as new. Better than new, even."
"You're a wonder," he says, and hugs her.
"I know," she says when he lets her go, and Tim smiles back at her because she deserves to be a little smug. "Now, go and hug Bear over there, and let me work."
"Hug Bear?" he asks, confused.
"Yes, McGee. See, over there," and she points to a large stuffed bear sitting on the bench.
"You want me to hug the bear?"
"Not the bear. Bear. It's his name, Bear. After Bear Grylls. Gotta love a man who can make eating raw yak liver look sexy."
"Yeah, you have," Tim says, letting the sarcasm ooze out. "So you want me to hug Bear?"
"That's what I just said," Abby says with an emphatic nod, and Tim knows better than to question her any further.
The bear-Bear, he corrects himself-is soft and squishy, and Tim realizes he's holding it and smiling at it, and if he's not careful Gibbs is going to come down and find him like this. So he hugs it, just to keep Abby happy, one quick hug before he puts it down.
"Boss," it says.
He must have heard wrongly. He hugs it again.
"Yes, Boss," it says this time. Loud and clear.
"Abby?" Tim asks, horrified. "What have you done?"
"I thought you might miss it," she says, a little sheepishly, but hopeful. "You know, being called Boss. And it was easy to change the recording on the voice box."
McGee squeezes it again. "On it, Boss." The voice is familiar. Very familiar.
"You recorded Tony?" he asks, and he can't help the smile that surfaces.
Abby grins back at him. "I heard about this morning. Now you can have him call you Boss whenever you want."
Tim squeezes it once more. "Can I get you a coffee, Boss?" it says.
"I'll have it black, one sugar. And make sure it's fresh," Tim orders.
"Boss," Tony says, and Tim can't help it-he's had four months of conditioning, answering is a reflex.
"Yes," he says, as though he's back in the sub-basement. At the exact same moment as Gibbs says, "Yes."
Tim sinks down behind his desk and hopes and prays that his 'yes' went by unheard.
As if he ever had that much luck. He looks up. Gibbs has that look on his face that might be a smile but might equally be a shark viewing his next meal-the two are so similar it's hard to tell them apart. Tim thinks (hopes) Gibbs might be secretly amused.
Tony, however, is glaring at him, hands on hips like a prima donna (though Tim isn't going to risk saying that), and damn but everyone in this team has a glare down pat apart from Tim.
"Seriously, McGeek?" Tony says. "You think when I say boss I mean you?"
"No. Sorry, Tony," Tim says, and shrugs as apologetically as he can. There's really nothing else he can say.
"Get your gear," Gibbs calls, already heading out, and Tim has rarely been so grateful for the reprieve. He grabs his bag and tries to put a laughing Ziva between himself and Tony on the way to the elevator, but Tony still manages to swat the back of his head.
*
They've split up for the case. Ziva and Gibbs are down at the naval yard interviewing colleagues of the dead marine, while Tim and Tony drew the short straw and are knee deep in stinking, squelching mud in the estuary where Lieutenant Walker's body was found.
Tim has a bucket by the side of him. It's filling up with algae covered driftwood, dead rockfish, broken oily shells, a green bottle with a cork that smells of raw sewage, and several unidentified brown lumps that Tim is sure are semi-fossilized feces.
"Catch, McGee," Tony calls, and Tim straightens up and catches-A worm.
"You're disgusting, Tony," Tim says, and drops it. It wriggles away into the mud.
"Found anything interesting yet?" Tony asks.
Tim shakes his head. "Nothing that belonged to Lieutenant Walker. But I've found half a booby."
Tony looks up, suddenly interested. "A booby? Show me!"
Tim grins and holds up half a dead bird.
"I can only see one booby," Tony says, looking pointedly at Tim, "and it isn't the bird you're holding. Which, for the record, is a Herring gull."
"Since when do you know anything about the feathered type of birds?"
"Four months as agent afloat, McGee. Four months. I got to see plenty of gulls." He shudders, and starts sifting through the mud again, muttering under his breath. Tim can't hear him properly, but he thinks he catches four months and no boobs.
When his cell rings, Tim pulls off his filthy gloves with a sigh of relief for the moment's break.
"Hello, Boss." It's Ziva, voice deep and sultry, and Tim gulps.
"It's me, Tim. I, um, thought Gibbs was with you," he manages.
"He is," Ziva says, and manages to make it sound the dirtiest phrase Tim's ever heard.
"But. I thought you said- Didn't you just call me-?" Tim stammers awkwardly.
"I did. Don't you like it, Boss?" Tim's heard Ziva using this voice before, undercover and wired and all set on seduction. He's just never had it turned on him before. He feels all his blood rush south.
He drops the phone and watches helplessly as it sinks into the mud.
"Probie! You idiot," Tony says, and clips him behind the ear.
Tim sighs. Ziva is evil, Tony is mean, and his cell is probably ruined. And he apparently reacts in a most unfortunate and embarrassing way to Ziva calling him Boss. He pulls his jacket down and thinks of unpleasant things. At least that's easy. He looks in his bucket.
*
He's resolute. If he hears anyone say Boss he isn't going to respond in any way other than to look up for Gibbs. No matter how they say it.
He can decondition himself.
*
Abby's gotten his phone laid out on the bench in front of her.
"It's a mess, McGee," she says, frowning at him admonishingly. "You can't treat delicate equipment this way and still expect it to work."
He hands her a CafPow and reaches over to pick up the bits. "Thanks for trying, anyway," he says.
"Did I say I couldn't repair it?" Abby asks, slapping his hand away. She takes a long slurp of her drink and looks at him over the straw.
"Um, no?"
She nods. "Exactly. I just said you should be more careful and shouldn't drop your phone in the mud. Give me two more minutes, and it'll be as good as new. Better than new, even."
"You're a wonder," he says, and hugs her.
"I know," she says when he lets her go, and Tim smiles back at her because she deserves to be a little smug. "Now, go and hug Bear over there, and let me work."
"Hug Bear?" he asks, confused.
"Yes, McGee. See, over there," and she points to a large stuffed bear sitting on the bench.
"You want me to hug the bear?"
"Not the bear. Bear. It's his name, Bear. After Bear Grylls. Gotta love a man who can make eating raw yak liver look sexy."
"Yeah, you have," Tim says, letting the sarcasm ooze out. "So you want me to hug Bear?"
"That's what I just said," Abby says with an emphatic nod, and Tim knows better than to question her any further.
The bear-Bear, he corrects himself-is soft and squishy, and Tim realizes he's holding it and smiling at it, and if he's not careful Gibbs is going to come down and find him like this. So he hugs it, just to keep Abby happy, one quick hug before he puts it down.
"Boss," it says.
He must have heard wrongly. He hugs it again.
"Yes, Boss," it says this time. Loud and clear.
"Abby?" Tim asks, horrified. "What have you done?"
"I thought you might miss it," she says, a little sheepishly, but hopeful. "You know, being called Boss. And it was easy to change the recording on the voice box."
McGee squeezes it again. "On it, Boss." The voice is familiar. Very familiar.
"You recorded Tony?" he asks, and he can't help the smile that surfaces.
Abby grins back at him. "I heard about this morning. Now you can have him call you Boss whenever you want."
Tim squeezes it once more. "Can I get you a coffee, Boss?" it says.
"I'll have it black, one sugar. And make sure it's fresh," Tim orders.