Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 5b/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Supply and Demand: Unwanted Part 5b/9 (NCIS/SPN Crossover AU)
Author: Tari_Roo
Rating: PG13 (Gen)
Fandom: SPN/NCIS
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing.
Summary: NCIS/SPN Crossover AU. Gibbs didn’t want or need an Empath. But Director Vance was insisting and his team were avoiding him, more than usual, so when the T&E Centre called to say that Dean Winchester was available, it was time to pick up the unwanted Empath.
Spoilers: set somewhere in Season 6&7 of NCIS, and AU for SPN (all seasons)
Chapter 5b
Thursday morning dawned with practised ease, the sun peaking over the horizon with nary a cloud in the sky. The air was chilly enough to make running a pleasure, especially with the occasional breeze in the warming morning.
Digging deeper, pushing his body past the normal barriers of exhaustion, Gibbs pounded down the sidewalk, making for the open park a block over. It felt good, running, adrenalin surging and muscles singing in concert. His headache from yesterday was finally gone, the aches a distant complaint.
As a matter of course, of habit, Gibbs scanned the surrounding area, noting the few early risers both on foot and in their cars. The park normally had a few fellow runners and as he glanced right, then left and crossed the road, Gibbs noted Dean a few feet behind him, struggling to keep up. The guy hadn’t quit yet, seemed to relish the chance to run, but he was definitely out of shape.
The presence of his Empath behind him was less of an incessant itch today. Rather than feel a constant urge to touch him or be near him, it felt more comfortable, more like a piece settling into place. He couldn’t exactly tell what Dean was feeling, hadn’t ever really been able to unless it was some sort of empathic backlash. But he seemed more at ease, less angry, less twitchy. Or at least, he was co-operating more - hell, even helping. It felt - nice.
He stopped at a water fountain under a large oak tree and waited for Dean to catch up. It didn’t take him too long, the gap between them wasn’t that big. Dean’s already very short hair was plastered to his skull and his borrowed t-shirt was soaked through.
As Dean gulped down some water, Gibbs stretched a little and said softly, “Kinda outa shape.”
Flicking his hands, spraying Gibbs a little with water, Winchester shrugged and muttered, “Not a lot of opportunity to run - and not something they really encourage... running.”
Looking up through the trees, their leafy canopy obscuring the early morning sky, Gibbs sighed, “Sure.”
Dean was more concerned with catching his breath than talking though and Gibbs waited a few minutes before saying, “Come, 3 more miles then home.”
“And coffee?”
Gibbs ignored him, already lengthening his pace for the final push home.
When he walked into the bullpen, Tony shot up out of his seat like it was on fire and said brightly, “Morning, Gibbs! Director Vance needs you in MTAC. An op is going down and ...”
Snagging Dean, who was ambling towards the coffee machine, and the pretty Agent Miller, Gibbs pointed him towards Tony and said, “Stay put. No disappearing. I don’t want to have to go looking for you.”
Scowling, Dean nodded, and Gibbs trotted up stairs, coffee cup in hand. Dean just stood staring at Tony and Tim, both of whom stared back. Yesterday Dean had hid out in Abby’s lab, as usual, but now...
“Ah,... you can go sit at Gibbs desk...” McGee offered.
Sighing, with one last look at the coffee machine, Dean collapsed into Gibbs’s seat . Somewhat satisfied, McGee turned back to his screen. Tony watched them both then picked up his phone and starting dialling. There was blissful quiet for a few minutes but soon the irritating squeak of a chair twisting could be heard, repeatedly.
After a few pointed stares, Dean stopped, with a happy smirk. But it soon started up again... this time in concert with the clicking of a pen.
Slamming down his phone, Tony drawled, “Why don’t you just put a game on for him, McGoogle.”
Like a jack rabbit, Tim stuck his head up over his monitor and shot a totally failed covert look at Dean before hissing, “Aren’t they not supposed to you know... get stimulated?”
Snorting, and noting that Dean was glaring at him, Tony laughed, “Please, like that’s possible.”
“Ew.”
Sitting up straight, Tony jabbed a finger at McGee and said, “Just give him something to do before I kill him.”
Clearly unhappy, McGee muttered, “’Kay.”
Winchester didn’t look too happy at being talked over, but he moved to give Tim room to access the PC. McGee bypassed the usual firewalls and loaded one of better online games.
Standing back, he motioned for Dean to come closer, “There, just use those keys and ... kay kay, so you get it.” Dean was already at the keyboard, tapping away, a muttered ‘thanks’ directed at McGee.
Curious now, Tony scrambled over, and stuck his head around the PC, “Whatcha find, McGeek? Ohhhh, old arcade style pacman. Sweet!”
Tim shrugged, “McGoogle inspired me.”
“Oh yeah .... To wasted man hours!” Tony raised his fist, demanding McGee fist bump in return but Tim shook his head and left Tony hanging. Surprisingly, Dean dutifully completed the bump, sending a sharp ‘buzz’ of energy with it.
Snatching back his hand, Dinozzo exclaimed, “Ouch, what the hell, man?”
“That was for yesterday and the dog comments.”
McGee gaped open mouthed and Tony hissed, “That was yesterday! And you gave me the finger already!”
Dean just smiled, unrepentant and Tony flounced off in a huff. Tim however looked strangely pleased. “Wipe that smile off, McGee! We still have vandalising dirt bags to catch. Gibbs is gonna want results.”
Tim just ignored him.
As Vance and Gibbs left MTAC, they walked into the charged atmosphere more familiar with an amusement park or concert or...
“What the hell?”
Gibbs and Vance shared a look, Vance impressing all sorts of dire warnings in his. Unconsciously Gibbs sent his ‘what the hell’ through the connection to Dean and the heightened excitement diminished dramatically, and Vance nodded, going into his office with a mutter.
Gibbs hurried down the stairs, seeing his team gathered awkwardly around his desk and Dean... who was transfixed on the PC screen. The loud, boisterous voices of the still affected agents in the room was grating and Gibbs pushed his own rising excitement down and growled, ‘Hey!’
His team took one look at him and scattered, disappearing to attend to urgent bladders or coffee runs. Left alone, Dean looked up, an odd mix of anger and shame on his face.
“Having fun?”
Shrugging, Dean tapped on the keyboard defiantly but eventually stopped under the Gibbs glare.
“I am fairly certain that we discussed this already ... “
Dean just looked mutinous and pushed away from the desk, folding his arms. A dying, alarm type of noise came from the PC and Gibbs looked over in concern to see some weird alien thing die in an explosion of blood
“Nice.”
Dean shrugged.
“Come on, we’re going to put those abilities of yours to better use.”
Backing Dean away from the desk, acutely aware of their proximity after being upstairs for so long, Gibbs reached down under the desk, drawing out his backup bag. Tossing it at Dean, he said, “Find something that fits, you’re not going out looking like a mental patient.”
Confused and surprised he said, “Really?’ and Gibbs nodded. “Get moving.”
Not waiting for further instruction, Dean ambled off to the gents at not exactly at the fastest pace, but with more spring in his step than usual. Tony prematurely stuck his head around the corner, nearly ducked away when he saw Gibbs but since Gibbs had seen him, he stepped out, wide smile in place.
“Hey, Boss, going somewhere?”
“Intel op in Bahrain has flagged a few names. We’re going to go chat with three who are in DC.”
“Oh great, I’ll round up the others...”
“Winchester and I are going.”
Flummoxed, Tony said “Oh ... swell, Boss. And us...”
“The usual, Dinozzo...”
“Crap, I hate doing background checks, Boss, you know that .. on it, on it.”
“And when Ziva and McGee come out of hiding, get them to run down whatever leads Abby’s been able to get from the Quantico Burglary.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Dean was back before Ziva and McGee, who apparently had better Gibbsdar than Dinozzo and Tony whistled loudly at the sight of Winchester in jeans and an off white shirt. He raised his fist in warning and tossed the lighter bag back at Gibbs who neatly caught it.
“Let’s go.”
“Have fun, Boss ...”
Their first person of interest was in Arlington and Gibbs drove with his usual speed on the 395, heading over the bridge. Adopting his usual posture of slumped boredom or disinterest, Winchester was staring out the window.
Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, which was rapidly approaching tepid and felt a peaked interest from the seat next to him. Hungry eyes were fixed on his cup and Gibbs said, “I think you’ve have enough stimulation for one morning, bub.”
Dean pursed his lips, momentarily looking like he was preparing to wrestle the coffee from Gibbs, who in response calmly took another sip. Pasting on a look of faked disinterest Dean returned to his study of the road.
Person of interest one wasn’t at home and person of interest two could talk the hind leg off a donkey. Dean was smirking by the time Gibbs managed to get away and Jethro sent a half hearted nudge his way, but the smirk was firmly in place. They clambered back into the car, heading to towards person of interest number three.
Haniff Limalia was a third generation American citizen who owned an internet cafe and the wave of irate anger that washed off him was intense. Gibbs felt a smattering of the emotion from Dean, and Winchester hissed, “He’s pissed!”
They had barely entered the store when Limalia said, “No, not again. I don’t care what you think you know or think I know, but this enough! No!”
“Look, Mr Limalia...”
Cutting Gibbs off, his hands waving furiously, “I am a damn American, I was born in Kentucky! I haven’t ever been out of the country, I don’t speak Arabic! I am sick and tired of being harassed because I’m a Muslim and own an internet cafe!”
Preparing to bulldoze past the man’s anger, Gibbs felt a surge of empathic energy from Dean, who was smiling next to him - the picture of friendliness and reasonableness. Limalia flattered in his tirade as he felt whatever it was Dean was doing and he stammered, “I will not be ...”
Turning it up a notch, making Gibbs’s hair at the back of his neck stand on end, Dean flooded the small cafe with feelings of calm, quiet and peace. The two customers who had been staring at the confrontation with wide eyes, slumped a little in their seats. Limalia continued to open his mouth, as if trying to expel the rest of his vitriol at the government.
Nudging Gibbs, Dean indicated towards Haniff and Gibbs stepped closer and said in as reasonable a tone as he could, “We’re sorry to disturb you, Mr Limalia, but we were wondering if this man has ever been in your cafe?”
He showed a picture of their first person of interest and Haniff, who was starting to smile, picked up the picture and said, “Ah .... not too sure. But I... have security cameras in here. Was getting tired of being accused of ... harbouring terrorists. You want the video?”
Smiling himself, as Dean turned the calm and peace into ‘feeling good and all was well with the world’ vibes, Gibbs said, “That would be great, sir.”
Haniff returned with the disks, his face a little confused as he handed them over and Dean said, his voice filled with all manner of charm, “You pissed off enough to turn a blind eye?”
Smiling back, Limalia shook his head, “Nah, these jihad idiots give all Muslims a bad name. Just wish you lot would see beyond the burka, right?”
Turning to look at Gibbs, resting his elbows on the shop counter, Dean nodded, “Totally, man. Government’s a real bitch at times.”
Gibbs tucked the disks into his pocket and said, “Thank you, Mr Limalia. Your co-operation is appreciated.”
Limalia smiled back and said cheerfully, “Screw you, g-man.”
As they left the shop, Dean dialled the happy vibe down, and said quietly to Gibbs, “He’ll feel a little confused but will probably associate you with ‘good’ things...”
Gibbs smacked Dean on the back and said, “Great. Get in.”
There was a highbrow, gourmet coffee place a few blocks away and Dean looked up in hope as Gibbs parked the car. Ordering his usual black, Gibbs wondered if maybe Dean was one of those guys who liked mocho crappa things but figured if he did, he’d just have to be happy with straight black.
Pocketing a few sugar packets, Gibbs paid and left the shop, heading towards the car. Dean’s eyes light up at the sight of two cups and then turned hungry as Gibbs handed one over to him.
“You did good work back there....” Gibbs said as he handed over the cup.
The cold wash of anger was unexpected, and Dean snarled, “I ain’t your damn dog, Gibbs.”
Calmly, Gibbs said, “I know.”
After glaring at Gibbs some more, it seemed the allure of coffee was greater than his affront over the ‘good behaviour’ reward and he took a sip and sighed in lusty pleasure. “Sugar?”
Gibbs tossed him a few packets and Dean methodically poured them all in and then settled back to savour his coffee. Fighting the unfair and childish urge to say ‘good boy’ after all that, Gibbs turned the engine over and pulled away.
n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n*n*c*i*s*s*p*n
And you are maintaining, Ms da Silva that there have been recent, confirmed sightings of Dr Bishop.
Most definitely, Kathy. T&E and the government don’t want to cause a national panic, so they have been covering these sightings up.
Do you have proof, Ms da Silva?
Oh yes, pictures, testimonies, DNA evidence.
That is shocking, truly shocking
- Extract from the cancelled Kathy Lake show, last aired 8 August 1992
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