Title: Two more seconds

Pairings: Gibby.

Summary: Gibby saves the world.

Word count: 834


He had two more seconds and it was all over; the world would come crashing and falling around them and he'd be left in the ruins, surrounded by dust and debris with the weight of an arduous guilt on his shoulders. No, he just couldn't let that happen. The boy swallowed down the conviction rising in his throat, a rush of adrenaline surging through his body.

Two more seconds, that was all the time he needed.

Gibby cowered behind the couch, breathing measured -- slow and steady wins the race. Or in this case, saves the world. His knees pushed into the floor painfully, keeping him held up right but still concealed by the sofa. He had been in this position for days, bidding his time. And for why? Well, there was an evil and mad; terribly mad genius on the other side of this piece of furniture with his finger on the button. And not just any button, because if it was just any button, then a boy of Gibby's talent and skill wouldn't be assigned to such a trivial mission. It'd probably be like an eighth grader or something. No, what made this a matter of grand importance was that this button was attached to a device capable of blowing up the world.

Yeah, seriously chizz right there.

A noise emitted into the air. It sounded like the malevolent cackling of an arch villain alright. Okay, now is the time to strike, he can feel it in his bones. The spikey haired secret agent leaped to his feet, hands gripping at the thin fabric of his tuxedo tee shirt and ripping the material from his upper body to expose his amazing (non-built) chest. In his true element, Gibby was never more ready. His voice rang out strong and confident into the living room as he stared down the evil and mad genius, his eyes boring into the mop's very wooden soul.

"Drop the device, Dr. Mophead. I'm here to take you in."

The mop didn't move. Gibby nodded.

"You're silence doesn't intimidate me, I've been through worse. This is nothing compared to the time I fought the wicked Ivan Ironing board." He paused, holding his most suave and assertive pose. "You have two options. One, you surrender now and I don't have to beat you into submission. Or two, we get rough and rowdy."

The mop didn't move, yet again.

"I see you've picked option two. Okay, fine. It's on like Donkey Kong." As he spoke, Gibby defied gravity itself and jumped the two feet into the air, over the couch and landed on the comfy cushions before diving at the mop (who was dressed in a lab coat and had a television remote control taped to it's wooden body). The two, one being a human boy and the other being an inanimate object, fell to the ground brutally and fought for control of the device and the state of the world by proxy. And what a fight it was. At first Gibby was on top, but then the mop got the upper hand. Not to be outdone, Gibby turned them over again. The whole climactic epic went on for about two minutes before Gibby's mom walked into the room, intent to find out what the commotion her son was making, was all about.

She stood there, hands on her hips and brows arched with question. "Gibby, what are you doing?"

"Saving the world, ma`." He grunted out, mid battle.

Question turned to endearment, a tenderness reserved for her son as she shook her head. "Okay, well. When you are done wrestling with the mop, dinner is ready."

What was that she said? There was a rumble in his stomach when his ears perked up at the mention of dinner and after watching her leave the room, Gibby laid there motionless with the mop on top of him. It took a few seconds before he made his decision and he pushed the cleaning tool off of him, getting to his feet. He took three steps to the kitchen before turning around and coming back. Leaning down, he ripped the remote control from the mop's body and put it in his pocket.

With a victorious grin, he dusted off his shoulders, looking down at his fallen foe before strutting out of the room. He called over his shoulders.

"All in a days work. There is a reason they call me the bes- Hey mom, you got the shell kind of macaroni right?"