Leroy Jethro Gibbs does not respond well to nearly being blown up.

While the dust settles on and around the softball field, effectively ruining every hamburger and hot dog in the area, all the civilians start talking at once. Several men rush to him, demanding to know what just happened, and this doesn't improve his already sour mood.

Neither does the fact that he brought three agents with him, and now, he can't find a single one.

"Hold on," he tells the small crowd, holding up both hands. "Gotta make sure everyone's okay."

Ignoring the ensuing protests, he slips away and cranes his neck. People appear pretty shaken, but the only real victims appear to be the food, and as he breathes out in relief, his eyes land on DiNozzo and David.

"What the hell are they doing?" he mutters, taking a couple steps toward them in his attempt to figure out why she is sprawled on top of her partner. Gibbs had seen her heading in his direction when the bomb was about to go off, but they both look fine; there's no reason for them to still be lying there. As he gets closer, he sees that DiNozzo's arms rest leisurely around her, his fingers laced over the small of her back, and their eyes are locked as they smile at each other.

Unbelievable.

Of all times to play grabass.

"Hey!" he yells, every bit of his irritability squeezed into the word, and both agents startle. David has the good sense to jump up, though she has some trouble when DiNozzo forgets to let go of her.

"Tony!" she hisses, wriggling in his arms, and he quickly allows them to flop to his sides. She straightens and brushes herself off. "Um, we were-"

"DiNozzo! Get your ass up!"

"Boss, she kinda hurt my backā€¦ that's gonna be pain-"

Before he can finish complaining, David has grabbed his wrists and yanked him to his feet with absolutely no regard for the delicate bones of his back, which crack loudly and painfully.

"Ow! Jeez, woman."

Gibbs is not amused. "Why are you two over here frolicking in the grass? Do you not see the smoking picnic table?"

DiNozzo's eyes guiltily dart over to said table, but David narrows hers. "We were not frolicking, Gibbs!"

"Whatever you wanna call it." He reaches out and head slaps them both. Really, he'd prefer to yell some more, but he doesn't have time at the moment. "Now do your damn job!"

As they hurry off (together, Gibbs notes grudgingly), he briefly allows himself to imagine retirement. Then somebody pokes him in the side and yells, "Did al-Qaeda do this?" and he is brought back to the world of anxious suburbanites and sexually tense federal agents.

Random tag of an episode that premiered two years ago, hahaha. It wouldn't get out of my head. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!