Disclaimer: Again, sad days, cause none of the NCIS characters are mine. Wishlist?
A/N: Thanks thanks and a thousand more to those who read, review, favorited, etc my previous story. It warms the heart and makes one smile all silly-like. After writing A Moment Outside Autopsy I really wanted to write something marshmellowy fluffy. If the earlier story made you sad, I hope this one will make you smile. Or at least crinkle in amusement.
It's not quite done yet, but it will be.
Gone Campin'
by
laughinghyena
The sun shone brightly through the forest canopy as birds chirped. The wind rustled the leaves of trees, and water from the creek rushed over broken branches and craggy rocks. All around the peace of wilderness prevailed. Until…
"Keep up DiNozzo," Gibbs said without turning his back. He could tell by the footsteps behind him that the younger man was slowing down.
"Ungh. This is heavy Boss," DiNozzo shifted his weight from left to right, trying to readjust the straps of his backpack once again. He stumbled, then executed a small hop and swerve to retain his balance.
"Told'ja 'pack light,'" Gibbs growled. There was no sign of actual fatigue in the younger man's voice and the terrain was flat, albeit slightly muddy and rocky. If McGee were here, Gibbs could imagine him calling DiNozzo out for 'being a girl.'
"I wasn't exactly sure what to bring. Things happen, like grizzly bears and greasy hair. Yugh. A good cop is always prepared," came the reply as DiNozzo did a quick shuffle to catch up with the waiting Gibbs.
"It's a two day camping trip DiNozzo. Not permanent relocation," Gibbs growled. They had left his house at 0700 this morning for the drive to the forest. He had two cups of coffee, which, taking the current time of day into consideration meant that he was at least another two cups under par.
"Well, it's not like I have previous camping experience to compare this to Boss," by now DiNozzo had caught up to Gibbs, matching the older man stride by stride.
Gibbs tilted his head to the left, frowned and raised his eyebrows as blue eyes met green. Green smiled.
Gibbs went through the bulging backpack once again, making sure that only the bare necessities remained in the already too heavy pack. His once over had already exposed Ernie the one eyed teddy bear craftily stowed away at the bottom of the pack. Earlier, when he told his travelling companion to only bring essentials, he had made the erroneous assumption that a marine's definition of 'essential' overlapped with a six year old's definition.
"Are you sure you're up for this LJ?" Shannon asked, smiling as her husband pulled out a pink plastic teapot from the pack.
"It's just a two day trip, Shan. We'll be fine," Gibbs replied, wondering silently just what had filtered through to his daughter when he described the concept of camping.
"She's a girl."
"I know that."
"It's camping."
"I believe in gender equality."
Gibbs finally zipped up the pack, turning around when he heard his dear, darling, loving wife snort. In front of them stood Kelly, grinning from ear to ear, peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hands, and a shiny plastic tiara on her head.
"We'll be fine."
They had been walking for the past 30 minutes, navigating through slight slopes and tight paths. It was almost noon and both men were heavily perspiring despite the early spring breeze. The German Sheppard trotted beside them, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
"How'd you wind up with the dog?" Gibbs always found himself unable to refer to it by name.
"Oh Jethro?" DiNozzo grinned, reaching down to ruffle the top of the dog's head, "You mean this good boy. Who's a goooood boy? Jethroooo? Jethro's a good boy. Yeouch." DiNozzo grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Keep that up…" the unspoken threat lingered in the air as the peace of the wilderness fluttered away once again.
"Thanks Boss, think you killed a bug. The dog? Tiny Tim told me about this hot date he had this weekend, so I said I'd take Jethro off his hands. I mean, he wouldn't want to scare away his first date in centuries by introducing her to this growling, menacing beast called… I think I'll stop while I'm behind." He cupped the back of his head just in case.
Blue eyes turned to meet green. Blue eyes turned away with a slight shake of the head.
"Ok fine. McGeek does actually have a date, but I mean, camping. Man's best friend, man's manliest activity. Makes sense doesn't it?" He reached down absent mindedly, feeling for the warm coat of the German Sheppard.
Gibbs tilted his head to the left, raising his eyebrows as blue eyes met green. Blue smiled.
After what might have been a small slice of eternity, they finally reached the campsite. It was a slightly hidden clearing past a stand of trees, where someone at sometime had collected enough rocks to make a fire pit and had positioned a large tree trunk as a makeshift bench. The site was conveniently just above the creek; a small tumble down a muddy bank and one would have access to water.
"Woah," his daughter exclaimed, clutching Ernie the one eyed bear close to her chest. After some discussion, father and daughter agreed that Ernie was indeed, without a doubt, an 'essential.'
"Daddy, daddy, look!" She pointed to the large, six feet in diameter rock by the creek. "Can we climb it?"
Gibbs nodded, but stated, "Tent first," as he pulled the tarp and two lengths of rope out of the pack. Immediately, the pack seemed to halve in size. Gibbs removed his hunting knife from his pocket as he began to cut one of the ropes into equal lengths.
"C'mere Kells," he beckoned to his daughter. He watched as she skipped towards him, dimples on her cheeks, loose strands of hair plastered to her sweaty face.
"I'm gonna help! And Ernie too!" She pushed the scruffy teddy bear into his face, and for a moment he caught a whiff of Johnson's and Johnson's No Tears shampoo, of sour chocolate milk, of dirt and freshly mowed grass.
Gently he took each of her hands into his as he showed her how to tie the ropes to the tarp. Fold it in half, through the hole, take the ends, poke the eyes. It took a few tries before Kelly's clumsy fingers mastered the knot. By then both father and daughter were on the ground laughing, dirt clinging to the back side of their pants. Beloved Ernie was momentarily set to the side, observing. The pair's one-eyed sentry.
Setting up the tent turned out more involved than expected. Gibbs quickly realized that DiNozzo's lack of camping experience meant the younger man would spend at least five minutes staring bewilderedly at the clump of metal rods, too stubborn to ask for help. He would then proceed to spend another five minutes slotting the rods into whatever seemed to fit, only to disassemble again when the resulting shape was more train wreck than tent frame.
Ten minutes into DiNozzo's efforts, Jethro the Dog who had frenziedly sniffed and nosed every inch of the clearing the moment they arrived, found the act of setting up a tent more worthy of his personal involvement. It decided the best form of aid was to bark and nibble at the ends of the metal rods. When a tent did not materialize after its efforts, Jethro the Dog nosed the canvas, sniffed DiNozzo's boots, stuck its head between his legs and barked again.
Gibbs sat on the ground, hand holding the handle of a hot tin cup, his back braced against the large tree trunk. He had already unpacked most of the supplies, collected fresh drinking water, and boiled some for the overdue coffee. His free hand held a portable camcorder, its lens fixed on the battle between man, tent, and dog. He watched as DiNozzo tried to simultaneously push the dog away, unfold the canvas, and pick up the fallen metal rods. Silently, Gibbs thanked Abby and McGee for convincing him that the time spent mastering the tiny doo-hickey would be well worth the results.
"I distinctly remember you being the strong, silent… stoic type Jethro," DiNozzo said, letting out a loud sigh as Jethro the Dog jumped to lick his face.
Gibbs stowed the camcorder and stood up slowly, feeling the age of his joints as he ambled towards his senior field agent. He used his pointer finger to lightly tap the right of DiNozzo's cheek and then pointed to the metal pile. He picked up a rod, found its partner, slotted them together and handed DiNozzo another pair of partner rods.
"Maybe Abby should have named him Anthony instead," he said, smiling as DiNozzo scrunched his cheeks and frowned.
Fishing did not start off as he expected. What Gibbs considered a non-event, his daughter declared utterly eww and yucky. She stood with her hands on her waist, scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue. The bait bucket filled with squirming worms did not impress her, nor did Gibbs' demonstration of hooking a live worm. She stood a fair distance away, bending at the waist to peer cautiously into the bucket. She held the strands of her long brown hair back behind her ears, afraid they might get entangled with the worms.
"Daddy, those are worms," she pointed and stated with the tone of someone observing, 'Sir, your briefs are on your head.'
"I know kiddo. They're bait. See," Gibbs said, picking one out of the bucket, "They don't bite."
"I know they don't bite. But it doesn't mean they aren't gross," she said, and fixed her father with a commendable impression of the look he saved only for criminals in the interrogation room.
"DiNozzo, just. Pick. One. Up."
Gibbs had managed to stay silent as DiNozzo lightly tapped the bucket of worms and then jumped back. But when the younger man began to go on about his delicate disposition, something about hand creams, dirt, allergies, Gibbs could no longer hold back. He picked up the bucket and shoved it right in front of DiNozzo's face, watching bemusedly as DiNozzo pulled back his head and stuck out the tip of his tongue. Behind them, Jethro the Dog who was resting head on paws let out a loud whine.
Gibbs again fought the urge to issue a head slap when DiNozzo began to reach into the bucket, only to pull back, then reach in again. Finally, just moments before the itch in Gibbs' hand became uncontrollable, DiNozzo pinched a worm between his thumb and pointer, and excitedly yelled, "Yea-haah."
He watched as DiNozzo's eyes widened, as his mouth curved upwards in a bright smile. He watched as DiNozzo eyed the squirming worm between his fingers and discovered the fuel for the muddy exploits of children all around the world. His senior field agent was actually 39 going on 10.
Jethro the Dog, tired of the momentary inaction and equally fascinated by the worm, took aim and leapt. Thus ended DiNozzo's first live worm holding.
Thanks for reading, hope you've had some fun so far. Constructive reviews and warm fuzzies please and thank you?
Conclusion comes soon in the next chapter…