Warnings/Spoilers: Takes place late season 4, but no spoilers. This is a part of my AU Kelly!verse (Kelly didn't die when Shannon did) Kelly is 23 and finishing her first year of medical school.
Disclaimer: When I am rich I will buy NCIS, or at least get a key to the set. Until then, only the ideas are mine.
A/N: This is a late birthday fic for dragonessasmith. There will be a second part, but it's taking longer than I thought it would and this works on its own. Thanks to arwenabigail for the beta'ing.
Kelly poured a glass of wine for herself and retrieved a bottle of beer from the fridge before traversing the steps down to the basement. Pausing on the third step she watched her dad work, his movements slow and marked by frequent pauses. He must have something other than boat building on his mind. She'd have to ask him about it.
"I hope one of those is for me." Gibbs balanced the sandpaper block on top of the boat before looking up to meet her gaze. She never could sneak into the basement without him noticing. Smiling, she padded down the steps in her flip flops. A nail in the heel of her foot years ago had taught her never to venture into her dad's workshop with bare feet.
"Take your pick,' she said, holding both drinks out to him.
"Very funny." He popped the top off the beer bottle and took a swig. "How it's possible that I raised a kid who doesn't like beer, I'll never understand."
"Blame it on Uncle Ducky." Holiday dinners at the Mallard residence always included wine, and from the time she was twelve Kelly had been allowed her own glass. "Besides, the wine goes better with the marinara sauce I have simmering up in the kitchen."
"Beer goes with everything." As if to prove his point, Gibbs took another gulp, draining half the bottle. "You're cooking on a Friday night? Don't you have plans with what's his face?"
"His name is Peter." After setting her wine glass down Kelly hoisted herself onto a clear section of the workbench, letting her feet swing. "And we're not doing anything this weekend. If I say yes every time he asks he might think things are serious between us."
"They're not?" He tried to hide it but she could hear the note of relief in his voice. Maybe she had been going out with Peter too often after all.
"Nope. He's a nice guy and I like spending time with him, but he's not the one. Besides, I still have two years of med school and an internship. I'm so not ready for a serious relationship." She'd known from the start that Peter wasn't the kind of man she wanted to marry, which made dating him less stressful and more fun. On her list, dating came way below her desire to become a doctor, and she had no trouble blowing off dates for studying. In turn the only thing her future carrier in medicine came second to was her family.
"So I don't have to run a background check on him then," Gibbs teased.
"Daddy." Kelly rolled her eyes. He'd been threatening to run background checks on her dates ever since junior prom. She wouldn't be entirely surprised to find out that he actually did, but didn't tell her.
"Hey it could be worse. I could let Ziva ask him questions."
"You are a dork." His only reply was to arch a single brow, and she had to laugh. There weren't many people who could call Leroy Jethro Gibbs a dork and get away with it. Pretty much it was her. And probably Abby.
"Don't you have some sauce to cook or something?" He tossed his beer bottle- empty now- in her direction and she caught it.
"Twenty minutes to dinner, and I'm not coming down to get you." Sliding off the workbench with an empty drink container in each hand she kissed his cheek before going upstairs.
"So I had an interesting call today." Kelly had two plates of spaghetti dished up and on the table, along with garlic bread, a new beer and a second glass of wine, when Gibbs came into the dining room.
"Yeah?" He had changed his shirt and washed his hands but she could still smell the sawdust. She loved the smell; it reminded her of hours spent in the basement with her father, his arms wrapped around her as he taught her to work the wood.
"It was about a job offer."
"I thought we had decided that you weren't going to get a job. You have enough to do with med school, and you don't have to worry about rent since you're living here." Gibbs frowned as he shook Parmesan cheese onto his spaghetti.
"No, you said I didn't need a job. I agreed that I didn't need to work in a department store or anything, but this job would look good on my resume." She wanted to stay close to home once she graduated, and DC was a competitive job market. She needed every edge she could get.
"What is it?"
"It's as an autopsy assistant." She wanted to be a oncologist, not an ME, but working hands on with bodies would be an amazing learning experience.
"If you want to work in autopsy than you should work with Ducky."
"Ducky has Jimmy, who is a great assistant despite what you might say about him. Besides I can't imagine the Director would go for me working there."
""I could work it out with Jen if you..."
"No, Dad," she interrupted. As much as she loved everyone at the Navy Yard she knew that she couldn't work there. Half of them had known her since she was young and would never treat her as a normal co-worker and the other half would walk on eggshells around her, afraid of upsetting Gibbs' daughter.
"Alright, where's this potential new job of yours?"
"The J. Edgar Hoover Building." She held her breath and resisted the urge to cover her eyes with her hands.
"Hell no." His fork banged against his plate, splattering red sauce onto the table.
"Now Dad, it's a great opportunity. Just think..."
"It's not like I'd be going out in the field the way Uncle Ducky does. All the FBI autopsy gremlins stay in the building." Step number one in getting what she wanted -point out the safety issues. He was always more reasonable once he knew she wasn't in a situation that would put her in danger.
"Did Fornell put you up to this?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Fornell has nothing to do with me working for the FBI. I applied to half a dozen agencies and all the hospitals in the area." She had very deliberately not called Fornell. Having him pull the strings to get her a job would be almost as bad as working at NCIS.
"Working for the FBI? That sound suspiciously like you already started."
"Of course not, they only called a couple of hours ago." With deliberate calmness she took a bite of garlic bread, washing it down with a sip of wine when it got caught in her throat. "I start on Wednesday."
"Without even talking it through with me?"
"You might have done something you'd regret, like call and tell them to un-offer me the job.
"I wouldn't have regretted that."
"I would have."
"The FBI is just about the last place I want my daughter to work."
"Really? I thought the CIA was worse," she teased.
"Or I could join the Army. Or even better, how about the Mossad?" For all his loyalty to the Corps and the Navy he was very much against her being in the armed services. It was a good thing she had never seriously wanted to join.
"Kelly Moira Gibbs..." his tone warned that she had pushed him a little too far.
"This is important to me Dad," she said softly but seriously.
"Should have sent you to Paris when I had the chance. No damn feds there." He sighed once before turning his attention to his dinner.
Kelly knew better than to say anything. She had gotten what she wanted. He wouldn't stop her from working at the Hoover building. He would call Fornell, and probably the chief ME, but there was nothing she could do about that.
He'd be in a mood for the next few days, but eventually he'd get used to her working for the feds. At least she hoped so; she'd already ordered him a FBI T-shirt.