Bath Time Battles
Disclaimer: All names and trademarks recognised as "NCIS" do not belong to me; I've just borrowed the characters for my own purpose.
Genres: Fluff, Family, Gen
Summary: McGee is having a hard time getting his daughter to take a bath.
A/N Just a short story following on from my previous stories 'The Purrfect Idea' and 'Kitten'. It's not essential that the others are read before this, but it helps. Anyways, this is set about six and a half years after the end of 'Kitten' and is just a bit of fun.
There was a thump, a giggle and an exclamation of annoyance. A door flew open and little feet padded down the hallway, and raced into the living room. A few seconds later, large feet following and yelled,
"Hannah McGee, get back here now!"
Six year old Hannah McGee giggled and shook her head as her father stormed into their living room. "Nu-huh."
Timothy McGee closed his eyes and counted to ten. He silently cursed Ziva for going out with Abby and leaving him with a daughter whose current favourite activity was to do the exact opposite of what her father told her.
"Hannah . . ."
"I don't wanna bath, daddy," Hannah whined, pouting innocently.
Jethro, having heard the commotion, ambled out of the kitchen and barked. Hannah raced over to the German Shepard and hugged him. Jethro, having grown up with the child, didn't mind too much.
"You have to have a bath, princess," McGee tried as he looked at his daughter clad only in a t-shirt and her underwear and hugging the family dog.
Hannah shook her head again. "No, I don't. You can't make me!"
"I can because I am your father," McGee said firmly, hoping to echo Ziva because she usually handled discipline and had an uncanny ability to make Hannah behave herself.
McGee, on the other hand, couldn't do the stern parent to save his life. All Hannah had to do was blink and grin impishly at her father to get her own way.
And she knew it.
"Daddy," Hannah cooed and looked innocently at him with her dark brown eyes, "I don't want to take a bath. Please don't make me."
McGee sighed and cursed whoever had influenced his daughter to be so manipulative. "Don't use the eyes on me, Hannah. They don't work."
"Liar," Hannah grinned, twisting the ends her curly brown hair around her finger. "I know you, daddy."
"You do, do you?"
Hannah nodded. "Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'. "Uncle Tony said you're a sucker when it comes to me!"
"Does he now?" McGee muttered, making a mental note to talk to Tony about suitable topics to discuss with his six year old daughter.
Hannah nodded again. "He also said . . ."
"Yes, thank you, Hannah. I don't need to know," McGee sighed, making the decision not to let Tony babysit his daughter again. Who knows what he was thinking when he thought Tony was a suitable candidate.
"Aww," Hannah pouted. "But Uncle Tony's funny."
"I bet he is," McGee replied, exasperated. "I'll give you one more chance to get in that bath. Otherwise . . ."
"Otherwise what?" Hannah asked, knowing she'd caught her father out.
"Uh," McGee stumbled. He didn't actually have an otherwise.
Hannah grinned wickedly in a very Ziva-like manner. "Thought so."
McGee sighed. "Look," he bargained, "you have a bath and I'll let you have a cookie." He knew Ziva would probably kill him for offering Hannah a cookie after dinner, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Hannah considered it from a moment, and then stuck out her tongue. "Nope!"
Not wanting to be left out, Jethro whined and licked Hannah's face. She giggled and wiped her face on the sleeve of her white top.
"Hannah, don't do that," McGee reprimanded, not that it would do much good. Hannah's top, which had been originally white, was already covered in grass stains.
Hannah shrugged and spied a shadow slink out of her bedroom. She raced off down the hall, calling, "Le-roy!"
"No running in the house," McGee called after her.
Jethro barked knowingly and McGee looked at him, saying, "Me too."
McGee turned and followed his daughter down the hall. He found her lying on her stomach in the middle of his and Ziva's double bed. McGee suppressed a groan at the thought of the dirt a grubby Hannah was transferring on to his bed.
Hannah looked up at her father and gestured to the two cats on his bed. "Dara and Felix don't have to have a bath; therefore, I don't have to."
"Dara and Felix are cats, not little girls."
Hannah gasped and looked horrified. "Don't let them hear you say that," Hannah scolded. "Cats have feelings too."
McGee ran a hand through his hair. She must have spent too much time with Abby, he concluded.
"We can give the cats a bath tomorrow," McGee suggested, knowing Ziva wouldn't be too keen on that idea either.
"That's just silly," Hannah remarked and went back to tickling the cats' tummies.
McGee sighed for the umpteenth time that night as he watched as Leroy leaped onto the bed and settled down next to her children.
About seven months before Hannah was born Leroy had, as expected, given birth to some kittens; three to be exact. While he had managed to give one to Abby (the male with black fur), Ziva had been unnaturally clucky and had refused to give up the other two, christened by her as Dara and Felix. He had protested to start with, but after a few choice words (mainly threats about knifes and his reproductive organs) he had gave in and allowed her to keep the kittens.
"Hannah, please," McGee said desperately. "Just get in the bath."
"No!" she yelled.
"You are really getting on my nerves, Hannah," McGee muttered through clenched teeth.
Hannah looked slightly guilty for a moment, then jumped to her feet and started bouncing on the bed as though she'd had one Caff-Pow to many.
"You can't make me!"
Suddenly, McGee had an idea. He reached calmly into his pocket and fished out his cell phone. He held it up and showed it to Hannah.
"I might not be able to make you," he said pleasantly, "but I know someone who can."
Hannah stopped bouncing and cocked her head to the side. "Oh, really?"
McGee nodded and scrolled down his list of contacts until he found the one that he was looking for. He showed the caller ID to Hannah. "Really."
She froze, looked incredulous and exclaimed, "You wouldn't!"
"I would." McGee made a move to press the green call button.
"No!" Hannah shrieked. She jumped off the bed and ran down the hallway to the bathroom. "I'll have a bath, daddy!"
McGee shuffled to the door and poked his head out. "You sure about that?"
Hannah nodded rapidly. "Yes, daddy! I'll have a bath. I'll be good, I promise. But please . . ."
McGee waited for it . . .
"But please don't call mummy!"