Caduceus
Title: Caduceus
Words: 1,726 (WTH?)
Fandom: NCIS
A/N: Blame brightillusions. I do. XD (Fun fact: the working title of this fic was 'Jimmy Gets A Tattoo; Abby Doesn't Stop Him.')
The first thing Jimmy Palmer noticed when he woke up was that he was not in his bed...and he was not alone.
Rolling over sent shocks of pain bouncing throughout his skull. When they finally subsided to the point where he could see clearly again, Abby was grinning at him over the top of the book she was holding.
"Abby..."
"Yes James?"
"What am I doing?"
"That's what I like about you Jimmy." She propped herself up on one elbow, dropping the book over the side of the bed. "You don't care about the past. You could have asked 'what happened?' and just been another schmuck. But no, you-"
"Abby. What happened?"
With a sigh, she dropped down onto the bed again, stretching lazily. "Yesterday. Ducky was out sick. You did your first full solo autopsy, helped us solve the case. Gibbs patted you on the back and told you 'Thanks.' and you nearly fainted."
"And then?"
"And then we went out to celebrate, got drunk, you danced at the club, I was so proud of you, and then we came back here and you puked on my couch."
He winced, remembering suddenly what they'd had for dinner as he ran his tongue along his teeth. They felt a little...fuzzy. "I'm sorry."
"No worries, it's the first time you've done it. Now if it was Tony who'd...but that's not relevant. I cleaned you up, brought you back here, and we both passed out at like, two."
"Wait-what time is it now?"
"Oh don't worry, it's almost nine."
"Don't worry? Abby, we were supposed to be at work an hour ago!"
"I said don't worry because I already called Gibbs, told him I'd been up all night taking care of you, and he said it'd be fine if I came in late today. We do want to be leaving in not too long, so I hope you showered yesterday."
"How did you-"
"Shhh. Gibbs owed me, okay? And we will not speak of the Gibbs-owing-me-favors thing ever again, okay?"
"O-okay."
"Good. Now here, I woke up earlier while you were out of it and made you up a care package."
"Antiseptic soap? Medical tape? Neosporin? Saran-wrap? Vaseline? Abby-"
"Well you can't let that beauty on your arm get all wet in the shower, you know. And you don't want to let it get dry and scabby either. And even if you don't care, I definitely care, after all the time I spent keeping it clean for you last night after you passed out. Now listen to me, kay, because I know what I'm doing-"
With a slight feeling of dread, Jimmy looked down.
---
"Ah, Mr. Palmer. How nice of you to join us this fine morning."
"I'm so sorry Dr. Mallard, Abby-"
"We know." Tony looked up from the scalpel he'd been inspecting. "Gibbs sent me down here to tell Ducky that you'd be late. She called in a big favor for you Palmer; feel loved."
"Tony has been telling me a story, for a change, about the last time Abby called in a favor. Seems that she hadn't slept in two days, and was running off some, unholy mixture of Red Bull, Mountain Dew, and Kaff-Pows. The last solid food she'd had was-"
"Sorry to interrupt, Duck, but, ah, hey Palmer."
"What Tony?"
"...why do you have plastic wrap on your arm?"
"...I don't?" He suggested hopefully, hoping against hope that Tony would just drop it.
No such luck.
"You went out with Abby last night, you got in late this morning, and you're wearing plastic wrap on your arm." Tony snapped his fingers, grinning maniacally. "I know those symptoms."
"What the blazes are you on about Tony?"
"Tony don't-"
"Palmer got a tattoo! Lemme see!"
"Ow! Stop-" Before Jimmy could get a halfway decent protest out, Tony had pulled his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, inspecting his arm closely.
"Nice, Palmer! Hey Ducky, whaddya call those things, the staff with the snakes that's on all the medical stuff?"
"You got a caduceus inscribed on your bicep, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked, scooting in behind Tony and peering over his glasses at it as well.
"His lack of bicep, more like it."
"Um, yes Dr. Mallard, you see-"
"I am so sending McGeek down here to see this. Oh man, I can't wait until Gibbs sees it."
"At least you picked a tasteful design." Ducky sighed, turning back to the body he'd been inspecting. "I've seen most everyone else's after-Abby artwork, and I must say, yours is the most fitting."
"Everyone...else's?"
"Oh yeah. Abby gets to us all eventually." Tony frowned slightly. "I have a smiling star permanently on display on my hip, thanks to that girl. McGee claims to have Mom inscribed on his ass, but I haven't really checked..."
"I'm sorry to admit she also got me to sit under the needle." Ducky spoke up.
"You? What did she talk you into?"
"How did she talk you into it?"
“For that matter, how did she stop you from talking her out of talking you into it?”
"Let’s just say that, after a certain amount of drinks with her, the idea of having a scalpel drawn as though it were slicing into my stomach seemed like a most hilarious idea."
"I wonder..." Tony grinned suddenly. "You think Gibbs' ever-"
"Ever done what, DiNozzo?"
Tony cringed as Gibbs strode into the room, followed closely by Ziva.
"-come in late for no reason? I doubt it, of course, but, ah, Palmer this morning-"
"No, Gibbs has been late before. I recall one specific-"
"Don't have time for a story, today, Duck. Dead ROTC student at Quantico. Son of a Marine who was killed there a couple years ago, was found this morning by a couple kids on Freeny Field."
Tony perked up almost immediately. "Road trip Boss?"
He nodded tersely. "Get the van and McGee ready. Ducky, get Ziva all the info you have on the Lindsay Miller autopsy. Late ninety seven, I think."
"Ninety eight!" He called at Gibbs' back. He and Tony were already heading back towards the elevators.
"December, ninety seven Duck!"
"Honestly," Ducky muttered, crossing over to the computer on the other side of the room. "If he's right, I'll never hear the end of it, and if he's wrong...well, I won't say anything, of course. That's just the way I am, though. There are loads of times I've kept my mouth shut when I should have spoken-"
"And many times the opposite as well, yes?" Ziva asked innocently.
Ducky paused, looking thoughtful.
"Yes, I suppose so. Well Ziva, feel free to have a seat. Seven or eight, it’s going to take a while to track down that report for you."
“I do not mind standing.” She smiled, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, "I think I have made a break-through with Abby."
"Really? Why's that Ziva?"
A smug look crossed her face. "She's invited me to go out with her tonight. Dancing."
Jimmy felt his cheeks flare up, and he glanced away quickly as Ducky glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
"What?" Ziva had noticed. Crap.
"I think you're gonna have a lot of fun." He mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeve self-consciously. Ziva didn't notice, taking his comment and running with it.
"Yes, she said that she would pick me up at nine, and that I should dress...slutty, but not skanky, I believe were her exact words."
"I believe what Abigail was trying to say was that you should wear a nice pair of jeans, and a shirt that you would not ever wear in daylight."
She shrugged, smiling brightly. "It doesn't matter. Either way, I think it will be more fun than a crate of monkeys."
"Oh, it will be." Jimmy muttered before he could stop himself. "Hope you have some Vaseline."
"What?"
He looked up. "Hope you have the vanilla cream. With raspberry vodka. It tastes great. It's a specialty of this one club Abby likes."
"I will be sure to try that." She nodded. "Though I don't know which club exactly we are going to."
"Ah well, if there's one you've heard of, chances are our dear Abby already knows the bouncers by first names. Here you go dear." Ducky handed her a folder. "Lindsay Miller, in black and white."
"Thank you. I will see you both later then?"
They nodded, watching as she walked to the elevator and disappeared.
Ducky turned to him first, disappointment evident in his voice.
"Vanilla cream, Mr. Palmer?"
"What would you have said Doctor?"
"I would have said...well I don't know, but I wouldn't have said vanilla cream, that's for sure. Magazine, or something."
"What do magazines have to do with clubs, Dr. M?"
"Hang around Abby long enough, and you'll find out. Now come along, we’ve got work to do. And for goodness’ sakes, stop fidgeting with your sleeve already. I will not have Abby mad at me when your arm inevitably gets infected…"
“Yes sir.”
---
His phone rang at nine fifty that night, and he almost missed it. Last night had caught up with him during the course of the day, and he was falling asleep even before the show with the pretty Greek detective woman and the funny detective finished.
"Hello?" He mumbled thickly, scraping his tongue with his teeth. He'd brushed his teeth for almost five minutes the first chance he got, but they still felt sort of funny.
"Hey Jimbo, it's Abs."
"Hi Abby, what's up?"
"Well, I just wanted to call and tell you to stop poking at it, and to reapply the Vaseline and plastic wrap before you pass out."
"How'd you know I was gonna..."
"Experience. It may be easiest to get drunk people into the chair, but it's damn near impossible getting them out afterwards."
"Oh. Um, speaking of that..."
"You gotta stop trailing off like that Jimmy. Say what you mean, mean what you say and all that jazz. Your question?"
"Right. Have you ever...taken Gibbs out? Like, you know, like you took me and Ducky and Tony and McGee out."
He listened to her chuckle into the phone, a deep, hearty laugh that made him blush even over the phone line. "Oh, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy..."
He nearly choked at her next words.
"Take me out again some time and maybe I'll tell you."
Words: 1,726 (WTH?)
Fandom: NCIS
A/N: Blame brightillusions. I do. XD (Fun fact: the working title of this fic was 'Jimmy Gets A Tattoo; Abby Doesn't Stop Him.')
The first thing Jimmy Palmer noticed when he woke up was that he was not in his bed...and he was not alone.
Rolling over sent shocks of pain bouncing throughout his skull. When they finally subsided to the point where he could see clearly again, Abby was grinning at him over the top of the book she was holding.
"Abby..."
"Yes James?"
"What am I doing?"
"That's what I like about you Jimmy." She propped herself up on one elbow, dropping the book over the side of the bed. "You don't care about the past. You could have asked 'what happened?' and just been another schmuck. But no, you-"
"Abby. What happened?"
With a sigh, she dropped down onto the bed again, stretching lazily. "Yesterday. Ducky was out sick. You did your first full solo autopsy, helped us solve the case. Gibbs patted you on the back and told you 'Thanks.' and you nearly fainted."
"And then?"
"And then we went out to celebrate, got drunk, you danced at the club, I was so proud of you, and then we came back here and you puked on my couch."
He winced, remembering suddenly what they'd had for dinner as he ran his tongue along his teeth. They felt a little...fuzzy. "I'm sorry."
"No worries, it's the first time you've done it. Now if it was Tony who'd...but that's not relevant. I cleaned you up, brought you back here, and we both passed out at like, two."
"Wait-what time is it now?"
"Oh don't worry, it's almost nine."
"Don't worry? Abby, we were supposed to be at work an hour ago!"
"I said don't worry because I already called Gibbs, told him I'd been up all night taking care of you, and he said it'd be fine if I came in late today. We do want to be leaving in not too long, so I hope you showered yesterday."
"How did you-"
"Shhh. Gibbs owed me, okay? And we will not speak of the Gibbs-owing-me-favors thing ever again, okay?"
"O-okay."
"Good. Now here, I woke up earlier while you were out of it and made you up a care package."
"Antiseptic soap? Medical tape? Neosporin? Saran-wrap? Vaseline? Abby-"
"Well you can't let that beauty on your arm get all wet in the shower, you know. And you don't want to let it get dry and scabby either. And even if you don't care, I definitely care, after all the time I spent keeping it clean for you last night after you passed out. Now listen to me, kay, because I know what I'm doing-"
With a slight feeling of dread, Jimmy looked down.
---
"Ah, Mr. Palmer. How nice of you to join us this fine morning."
"I'm so sorry Dr. Mallard, Abby-"
"We know." Tony looked up from the scalpel he'd been inspecting. "Gibbs sent me down here to tell Ducky that you'd be late. She called in a big favor for you Palmer; feel loved."
"Tony has been telling me a story, for a change, about the last time Abby called in a favor. Seems that she hadn't slept in two days, and was running off some, unholy mixture of Red Bull, Mountain Dew, and Kaff-Pows. The last solid food she'd had was-"
"Sorry to interrupt, Duck, but, ah, hey Palmer."
"What Tony?"
"...why do you have plastic wrap on your arm?"
"...I don't?" He suggested hopefully, hoping against hope that Tony would just drop it.
No such luck.
"You went out with Abby last night, you got in late this morning, and you're wearing plastic wrap on your arm." Tony snapped his fingers, grinning maniacally. "I know those symptoms."
"What the blazes are you on about Tony?"
"Tony don't-"
"Palmer got a tattoo! Lemme see!"
"Ow! Stop-" Before Jimmy could get a halfway decent protest out, Tony had pulled his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, inspecting his arm closely.
"Nice, Palmer! Hey Ducky, whaddya call those things, the staff with the snakes that's on all the medical stuff?"
"You got a caduceus inscribed on your bicep, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked, scooting in behind Tony and peering over his glasses at it as well.
"His lack of bicep, more like it."
"Um, yes Dr. Mallard, you see-"
"I am so sending McGeek down here to see this. Oh man, I can't wait until Gibbs sees it."
"At least you picked a tasteful design." Ducky sighed, turning back to the body he'd been inspecting. "I've seen most everyone else's after-Abby artwork, and I must say, yours is the most fitting."
"Everyone...else's?"
"Oh yeah. Abby gets to us all eventually." Tony frowned slightly. "I have a smiling star permanently on display on my hip, thanks to that girl. McGee claims to have Mom inscribed on his ass, but I haven't really checked..."
"I'm sorry to admit she also got me to sit under the needle." Ducky spoke up.
"You? What did she talk you into?"
"How did she talk you into it?"
“For that matter, how did she stop you from talking her out of talking you into it?”
"Let’s just say that, after a certain amount of drinks with her, the idea of having a scalpel drawn as though it were slicing into my stomach seemed like a most hilarious idea."
"I wonder..." Tony grinned suddenly. "You think Gibbs' ever-"
"Ever done what, DiNozzo?"
Tony cringed as Gibbs strode into the room, followed closely by Ziva.
"-come in late for no reason? I doubt it, of course, but, ah, Palmer this morning-"
"No, Gibbs has been late before. I recall one specific-"
"Don't have time for a story, today, Duck. Dead ROTC student at Quantico. Son of a Marine who was killed there a couple years ago, was found this morning by a couple kids on Freeny Field."
Tony perked up almost immediately. "Road trip Boss?"
He nodded tersely. "Get the van and McGee ready. Ducky, get Ziva all the info you have on the Lindsay Miller autopsy. Late ninety seven, I think."
"Ninety eight!" He called at Gibbs' back. He and Tony were already heading back towards the elevators.
"December, ninety seven Duck!"
"Honestly," Ducky muttered, crossing over to the computer on the other side of the room. "If he's right, I'll never hear the end of it, and if he's wrong...well, I won't say anything, of course. That's just the way I am, though. There are loads of times I've kept my mouth shut when I should have spoken-"
"And many times the opposite as well, yes?" Ziva asked innocently.
Ducky paused, looking thoughtful.
"Yes, I suppose so. Well Ziva, feel free to have a seat. Seven or eight, it’s going to take a while to track down that report for you."
“I do not mind standing.” She smiled, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, "I think I have made a break-through with Abby."
"Really? Why's that Ziva?"
A smug look crossed her face. "She's invited me to go out with her tonight. Dancing."
Jimmy felt his cheeks flare up, and he glanced away quickly as Ducky glanced at him, eyebrows raised.
"What?" Ziva had noticed. Crap.
"I think you're gonna have a lot of fun." He mumbled, tugging at his shirt sleeve self-consciously. Ziva didn't notice, taking his comment and running with it.
"Yes, she said that she would pick me up at nine, and that I should dress...slutty, but not skanky, I believe were her exact words."
"I believe what Abigail was trying to say was that you should wear a nice pair of jeans, and a shirt that you would not ever wear in daylight."
She shrugged, smiling brightly. "It doesn't matter. Either way, I think it will be more fun than a crate of monkeys."
"Oh, it will be." Jimmy muttered before he could stop himself. "Hope you have some Vaseline."
"What?"
He looked up. "Hope you have the vanilla cream. With raspberry vodka. It tastes great. It's a specialty of this one club Abby likes."
"I will be sure to try that." She nodded. "Though I don't know which club exactly we are going to."
"Ah well, if there's one you've heard of, chances are our dear Abby already knows the bouncers by first names. Here you go dear." Ducky handed her a folder. "Lindsay Miller, in black and white."
"Thank you. I will see you both later then?"
They nodded, watching as she walked to the elevator and disappeared.
Ducky turned to him first, disappointment evident in his voice.
"Vanilla cream, Mr. Palmer?"
"What would you have said Doctor?"
"I would have said...well I don't know, but I wouldn't have said vanilla cream, that's for sure. Magazine, or something."
"What do magazines have to do with clubs, Dr. M?"
"Hang around Abby long enough, and you'll find out. Now come along, we’ve got work to do. And for goodness’ sakes, stop fidgeting with your sleeve already. I will not have Abby mad at me when your arm inevitably gets infected…"
“Yes sir.”
---
His phone rang at nine fifty that night, and he almost missed it. Last night had caught up with him during the course of the day, and he was falling asleep even before the show with the pretty Greek detective woman and the funny detective finished.
"Hello?" He mumbled thickly, scraping his tongue with his teeth. He'd brushed his teeth for almost five minutes the first chance he got, but they still felt sort of funny.
"Hey Jimbo, it's Abs."
"Hi Abby, what's up?"
"Well, I just wanted to call and tell you to stop poking at it, and to reapply the Vaseline and plastic wrap before you pass out."
"How'd you know I was gonna..."
"Experience. It may be easiest to get drunk people into the chair, but it's damn near impossible getting them out afterwards."
"Oh. Um, speaking of that..."
"You gotta stop trailing off like that Jimmy. Say what you mean, mean what you say and all that jazz. Your question?"
"Right. Have you ever...taken Gibbs out? Like, you know, like you took me and Ducky and Tony and McGee out."
He listened to her chuckle into the phone, a deep, hearty laugh that made him blush even over the phone line. "Oh, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy..."
He nearly choked at her next words.
"Take me out again some time and maybe I'll tell you."