Author's Note: Long time no see! I have no internet connection at the moment so I'm sneakily uploading from work (probably shouldn't be, but hey!). Any PMs you've sent me, I won't have seen as I can't check my Hotmail account... le sigh. Ah, well. I have two chapters of Tequila all ready to go, another one-shot that there's no WAY I can upload from work due to, um, questionable content... and this.
Written as an NFA Hangman prize for Cassy... hope she likes it!
You belong to me, now.
Gibbs said that like it was a bad thing, but to me it's anything but. I've worked under him on a few assignments over the past nine months, and I know he's abrupt, harsh and impatient, but there's no one else I'd rather supervise my first year as a full-time field agent. He might put the fear of god into me sometimes, but he's fair, logical and intuitive – everything a good agent should be.
And he gives me the shivers, but that's not something I plan to let anyone else find out. Especially not DiNozzo.
Speak of the devil… Jolted out of my thoughts, I scramble out of the truck after Tony, making for our latest crime scene, the suburban residence of Petty Officer Peter Fielder.
Gibbs is standing on the front lawn, watching us approach. "DiNozzo, sketch and shoot. Kate, witness statements."
"Right," Kate confirms, heading over to the elderly woman sitting on the porch of the house next door.
Trying not to react at his use of my name, I nod. "Yeah, Boss?"
"Bag and tag."
He hands me a bunch of evidence bags, and I head after DiNozzo, calling a 'got it, Boss' over my shoulder. This is really gonna be a problem; just being the focus of his attention makes me nervous. I need to get it together-
Damn. I force myself to turn and meet his eyes. "Boss?"
He crosses the distance between us and presses a pair of latex gloves into my hand. "Rule number one: always wear gloves at a crime scene."
"Right." I knew that, but being around Gibbs makes me jittery. "Sorry."
With a small smile, he turns away, taking a sip of coffee, but then his words hit home. "Wait – rule number one? How many rules are there, Boss?"
"For most of the team, around fifty. For you, there might be a few more," he says.
Confused, I start to pull on the gloves. "Are they written down anywhere? And, uh, why more than fifty for me?"
"Nope." His eyes bore into me, and I fidget, hoping I'm not blushing. "You learn 'em as you go."
Figuring I'm not gonna get an answer to my last question, I nod and begin to jog toward the house again. His parting words bring me up short. "Ask Abby about rule fifty-one."
I look back at him, but he's already heading toward the autopsy van. Shaking my head, I push aside my curiosity and get to work.
She looks up from her microscope with a smile and a wave. "Hey, McGee. How's your first week as a full-time field agent going?"
"It's good, I think… I'm enjoying it, anyway." I watch her work, her energetic bound from one piece of equipment to another. Gibbs might turn my world upside down, but Abby and I have a history. I've seen what she looks like under her clothes, and every time I see her, my mind can't help but skip there, at least for a few seconds per minute.
She notices, and grins at me mischievously. "What can I do for you, Timmy?"
"I, uh…" A little mortified that she's read my mind, I shrug. "Gibbs asked me to ask you about rule fifty-one."
She drops the file she's holding onto her desk, both eyebrows shooting up in shock. A split-second later, the expression's replaced by playful intrigue. "Really?" she asks, leaning against her workbench.
Completely bewildered by her reaction, I frown. "Will you just tell me, already? What's rule fifty-one?"
"I dunno, McGee… these are Gibbs' after-hours rules we're talking about here. Do you promise not to tell Kate or Tony?"
After-hours rules? Colour me even more confused. "I swear I won't say a word, okay? Just tell me."
Grinning, she whispers in my ear, "Always call Gibbs 'sir' in the bedroom."
"What?!" I yelp. Of all the things I'd expected, this was nowhere even close. "Abby, why would he want me to know that? Why would you-"
She watches and waits as my brain finally figures it out. "You're sleeping with Gibbs?" I hiss, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the coast's clear.
"A little more than just sleeping," she admits, and I remember her penchant for bedroom games, the way she sometimes slips into a dominating role and insists on being called 'ma'am'. I always get the impression that she could take on the opposite role just as easily, though I've never had the confidence to test the theory.
I should feel betrayed that she's been with Gibbs, probably for longer than we've been dating, and I am, a little. But somehow, the thought of the woman I want the most being tied up and brought to the brink of pleasure again and again by the man I can't stop thinking about… it's an image I can't help but be captivated by.
And then Gibbs' earlier words sink in. For most of the team, around fifty. For you, there might be a few more. Ask Abby…
I must be imagining it. There's no way Gibbs would want me when he already has Abby. And in any case-
"Hey, Gibbs! You told McGee about rule fifty-one?"
My entire body goes numb as I hear his voice. "Yeah. You tell him what it is?"
"Yes, sir!" she says, a mix of respect, suggestiveness and adoration in her tone. How did I miss it before?
Gibbs puts a territorial hand on her shoulder, and they both look at me, but I'm having trouble meeting either of their gazes. How did this happen so fast?
"How about it, McGee?" Gibbs says softly. "You want to be part of our little arrangement?"
It's a no-brainer. I'm infatuated with Abby – maybe I even love her – and I can't get Gibbs out of my mind. There's nothing to think about, but still I hesitate.
"Yes or no, Tim?" Abby says, and I see the hope in her eyes, the affirmation that she still wants me, no matter how much she belongs to Gibbs.
And Gibbs… I meet his intense stare, and the word tumbles from my lips before I can help it. "Yes."
Abby gives a tiny, excited bounce, but restrains herself, looking to Gibbs for his reaction. "Yes what, McGee?" he snaps, his tone steely and authoritative, but his expression almost... pleased.
"Yes, sir," I tell him, standing a little straighter, and he smiles, stepping in close and tilting up my chin with a finger. When his lips come down on mine, rough and possessive and so very different from Abby's, I surrender to him completely.
I belong to him, now.