NCIS Fic: Boatrocking
Title: Boatrocking
Author: Sammy Girl
Genre: General
Characters: Tony, Gibbs, Ducky, Vance
Summary: Things are not always what they seem
Warnings: None
Acknowledgments: Thanks to LT for her great beta and editing work
<><><><><><><>
Ducky looked up from his desk as the door to autopsy opened.
“Oh dear,” he exclaimed as Tony came in. “What happened?”
Tony gave him his best grin. “Sparing with the Boss, he got me, again.”
Ducky shook his head and pointed to the closest unoccupied table. “What’s the damage this time?”
Tony was alone and limping, both of which were unusual. Normally, if he was injured sparing with Gibbs, it was a head, hand or rib injury and Gibbs practically had to drag him down to see the doctor.
“My ankle,” Tony answered, lifting his foot up on to the table and pulling the leg of his sweat pants up.
“Dear boy, you’re bleeding!” With more haste now, Ducky grabbed his first aid kit and hurried over to Tony.
“Think I pulled some stitches out when he leg swiped me,” Tony explained, examining his bloody leg with morbid curiosity.
“Stitches?” Ducky exclaimed, as he examined the small wound on Tony’s ankle.
“Had a bit of an accident over the weekend, ended up in the emergency room.”
By now Ducky had swabbed away some of the blood to reveal that Tony has indeed torn two of the seven stitches that ran in a crescent line over the inside of his left ankle joint. “When was this?” he asked.
“Sunday morning.”
Ducky looked up. “Yesterday? You did this yesterday and this morning you’re sparing with Gibbs?”
Tony shrugged and then winced as Mallard began to clean the open part of the wound.
“We always spar on Monday morning, unless there’s a case on.”
“I know that dear boy; I have watched you on more than one occasion. But why didn’t you tell him you were injured?”
“Because he’d have asked how I did it.”
Ducky looked up. “And how did you do it?”
“Opening a box.”
Ducky gave DiNozzo a look that told him the old man was going to need more information than that.
“I’ve been re-organising my DVD collection and I needed more storage, so I ordered a new set of shelves from Ikea.” Tony winced again as Ducky began to pullout the ruined stitches. “I’ll have you know I am an expert at flat pack. Got so good at it in collage, girls would ask me over to their dorm to help them put their furniture together. Ahh, those were the days,” Tony bragged with his customary grin. “But yesterday I couldn’t find the scissors….”
“Ah,” Ducky commented as he prepared to pull out the remains of the second useless suture.
“So I used a kitchen knife to open the box… Ouch!” Tony exclaimed.
“Sorry. I still don’t see why you couldn’t have told Gibbs you were injured.”
“Are you kidding?! Have you any idea what he’d put me though if I told him I damn near sliced my own ankle off opening a cardboard box of flat pack shelves?”
“You have a point.”
<><><><><><><>
“Is DiNozzo gonna be okay?” Vance asked as Gibbs came out of the locker room.
Jethro paused a moment to gauge his boss’ motive. “Well, since I don’t know what’s wrong with him, I can’t say.”
“He was limping when he left the gym.”
“He was limping when he got here.”
“So why did you fight anyway?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
Now it was Vance who paused, then gave Gibbs a long look. “I’ve been observing your Monday training sessions for some time.”
“I know.”
“He lets you win, you know?”
Gibbs smiled, a genuine grin. “Oh I know.”
“Why?”
“Damned if I know.”
“I think you do.”
<><><><><><><>
Ducky was putting in two new sutures, with considerably more care and less pain than the young doctor at the ER.
“Does Jethro know you let him win?” he asked Tony as he worked.
Tony stiffened slightly. “Who says I let him win, this is the Boss we’re talking about, no one can beat the Boss.”
“Except you and Ziva.”
“Ziva doesn’t count; she’s a trained killing machine.”
“And you?”
“I’m not a trained killing…”
“Tony!”
“I don’t let him win.”
Duck tied of the second stitch and sat up.
“Anthony, dear boy, you are almost twenty years younger than him, heaver, faster, stronger and well versed in the pugilistic arts, not to mention a verity of street fighting dirty tricks, and I happen to know you have a brown belt in judo.”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, I could have been a black belt.”
“Why didn’t you carry on?”
The grin faded. “Dad stopped paying for the lessons.”
Wishing he’d never asked, Ducky swiftly moved the conversation back to Tony’s fights with Gibbs. “I have seen you two fight. I have seen you play the fool, I have seen you let him pin you down, when I know you are more than capable of overpowering him and I have seen you roll into a punch - deliberately.”
“You see a lot.”
“How do you think I have lived this long.”
<><><><><><><>
“Do any of the others know?” Vance asked.
“I don’t know Leon, I haven’t asked them!” Gibbs snapped.
Pretending not to notice Jethro’s irritation, Vance carried on. “I figure McGee is clueless. Abby thinks you’re invincible. Ziva probably could see it, if she wasn’t having so much fun watching you kick Tony’s ass. Palmer is more clueless than McGee.”
“Sounds to me Director, that you’ve got it all figured out,” Gibbs drawled.
Vance ignored the sarcasm. “Ducky, well who can tell? He’s inscrutable and he knows you. Do you let him, let you win?”
“No.”
“Has it always been this way?”
Gibbs gave Vance a look could have killed at twenty paces, had Gibbs wanted him dead.
“No,” he finally told him plainly.
“So what changed?”
“Well gee, let me think. I’ve been training him for eight years, he’s bigger than me, younger than me and faster than me. If he couldn’t beat me by now, I’d be a pretty lousy teacher, wouldn’t I?”
<><><><><><>
Ducky wrapped a soft dressing around Tony’s ankle.
“No more sparing with Gibbs until I say it’s okay. I want to see it tomorrow. Keep the dressing on and keep it dry until then.”
Tony looked down at his now mummified ankle. “I need a shower, how do I keep it dry?”
“You’re a smart boy Tony, work it out.”
Tony eased himself off the table and gingerly put weight on his left foot, winced dramatically and then headed for the door, limping only slightly.
“Tony!” Ducky called.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
“I’m not the one keeping the boat steady.”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, well, they told me when I was an agent afloat, that a rocking boat doesn’t run smoothly. Thanks Duck.”
The End
Author: Sammy Girl
Genre: General
Characters: Tony, Gibbs, Ducky, Vance
Summary: Things are not always what they seem
Warnings: None
Acknowledgments: Thanks to LT for her great beta and editing work
<><><><><><><>
Ducky looked up from his desk as the door to autopsy opened.
“Oh dear,” he exclaimed as Tony came in. “What happened?”
Tony gave him his best grin. “Sparing with the Boss, he got me, again.”
Ducky shook his head and pointed to the closest unoccupied table. “What’s the damage this time?”
Tony was alone and limping, both of which were unusual. Normally, if he was injured sparing with Gibbs, it was a head, hand or rib injury and Gibbs practically had to drag him down to see the doctor.
“My ankle,” Tony answered, lifting his foot up on to the table and pulling the leg of his sweat pants up.
“Dear boy, you’re bleeding!” With more haste now, Ducky grabbed his first aid kit and hurried over to Tony.
“Think I pulled some stitches out when he leg swiped me,” Tony explained, examining his bloody leg with morbid curiosity.
“Stitches?” Ducky exclaimed, as he examined the small wound on Tony’s ankle.
“Had a bit of an accident over the weekend, ended up in the emergency room.”
By now Ducky had swabbed away some of the blood to reveal that Tony has indeed torn two of the seven stitches that ran in a crescent line over the inside of his left ankle joint. “When was this?” he asked.
“Sunday morning.”
Ducky looked up. “Yesterday? You did this yesterday and this morning you’re sparing with Gibbs?”
Tony shrugged and then winced as Mallard began to clean the open part of the wound.
“We always spar on Monday morning, unless there’s a case on.”
“I know that dear boy; I have watched you on more than one occasion. But why didn’t you tell him you were injured?”
“Because he’d have asked how I did it.”
Ducky looked up. “And how did you do it?”
“Opening a box.”
Ducky gave DiNozzo a look that told him the old man was going to need more information than that.
“I’ve been re-organising my DVD collection and I needed more storage, so I ordered a new set of shelves from Ikea.” Tony winced again as Ducky began to pullout the ruined stitches. “I’ll have you know I am an expert at flat pack. Got so good at it in collage, girls would ask me over to their dorm to help them put their furniture together. Ahh, those were the days,” Tony bragged with his customary grin. “But yesterday I couldn’t find the scissors….”
“Ah,” Ducky commented as he prepared to pull out the remains of the second useless suture.
“So I used a kitchen knife to open the box… Ouch!” Tony exclaimed.
“Sorry. I still don’t see why you couldn’t have told Gibbs you were injured.”
“Are you kidding?! Have you any idea what he’d put me though if I told him I damn near sliced my own ankle off opening a cardboard box of flat pack shelves?”
“You have a point.”
<><><><><><><>
“Is DiNozzo gonna be okay?” Vance asked as Gibbs came out of the locker room.
Jethro paused a moment to gauge his boss’ motive. “Well, since I don’t know what’s wrong with him, I can’t say.”
“He was limping when he left the gym.”
“He was limping when he got here.”
“So why did you fight anyway?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
Now it was Vance who paused, then gave Gibbs a long look. “I’ve been observing your Monday training sessions for some time.”
“I know.”
“He lets you win, you know?”
Gibbs smiled, a genuine grin. “Oh I know.”
“Why?”
“Damned if I know.”
“I think you do.”
<><><><><><><>
Ducky was putting in two new sutures, with considerably more care and less pain than the young doctor at the ER.
“Does Jethro know you let him win?” he asked Tony as he worked.
Tony stiffened slightly. “Who says I let him win, this is the Boss we’re talking about, no one can beat the Boss.”
“Except you and Ziva.”
“Ziva doesn’t count; she’s a trained killing machine.”
“And you?”
“I’m not a trained killing…”
“Tony!”
“I don’t let him win.”
Duck tied of the second stitch and sat up.
“Anthony, dear boy, you are almost twenty years younger than him, heaver, faster, stronger and well versed in the pugilistic arts, not to mention a verity of street fighting dirty tricks, and I happen to know you have a brown belt in judo.”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, I could have been a black belt.”
“Why didn’t you carry on?”
The grin faded. “Dad stopped paying for the lessons.”
Wishing he’d never asked, Ducky swiftly moved the conversation back to Tony’s fights with Gibbs. “I have seen you two fight. I have seen you play the fool, I have seen you let him pin you down, when I know you are more than capable of overpowering him and I have seen you roll into a punch - deliberately.”
“You see a lot.”
“How do you think I have lived this long.”
<><><><><><><>
“Do any of the others know?” Vance asked.
“I don’t know Leon, I haven’t asked them!” Gibbs snapped.
Pretending not to notice Jethro’s irritation, Vance carried on. “I figure McGee is clueless. Abby thinks you’re invincible. Ziva probably could see it, if she wasn’t having so much fun watching you kick Tony’s ass. Palmer is more clueless than McGee.”
“Sounds to me Director, that you’ve got it all figured out,” Gibbs drawled.
Vance ignored the sarcasm. “Ducky, well who can tell? He’s inscrutable and he knows you. Do you let him, let you win?”
“No.”
“Has it always been this way?”
Gibbs gave Vance a look could have killed at twenty paces, had Gibbs wanted him dead.
“No,” he finally told him plainly.
“So what changed?”
“Well gee, let me think. I’ve been training him for eight years, he’s bigger than me, younger than me and faster than me. If he couldn’t beat me by now, I’d be a pretty lousy teacher, wouldn’t I?”
<><><><><><>
Ducky wrapped a soft dressing around Tony’s ankle.
“No more sparing with Gibbs until I say it’s okay. I want to see it tomorrow. Keep the dressing on and keep it dry until then.”
Tony looked down at his now mummified ankle. “I need a shower, how do I keep it dry?”
“You’re a smart boy Tony, work it out.”
Tony eased himself off the table and gingerly put weight on his left foot, winced dramatically and then headed for the door, limping only slightly.
“Tony!” Ducky called.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
“I’m not the one keeping the boat steady.”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, well, they told me when I was an agent afloat, that a rocking boat doesn’t run smoothly. Thanks Duck.”
The End