Title: Little Mysteries

Spoilers: All of Roswell is up for grabs, for NCIS, can be set anytime after Ziva joined the team but before Jenny died.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell settings belong to other very lucky people as do the characters and settings of NCIS.

Pairings/Couples/Category: XO/UC

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really, it mentions a murder?

Summary: Light fluffy fun as we get a glimpse at an alternate future for the podsquad and a certain NCIS agent is driven crazy by questions with no answers.

A/N: This is part one of four, just a short little fic.

Bottled Sunshine

Something or someone collided with Michael's back, followed by the painful sensation of scalding hot liquid cascading down his shirt and soaking it through to the skin. Spinning on his heel with a muttered curse, he managed to catch the woman who'd run into him before she joined the now empty coffee cup on the floor. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I was trying to read that guy's shirt, the chemical formula's wrong so he's not as clever as he thinks he is, and I wasn't paying attention, and oh no Gibbs' coffee! It's a good thing he isn't here, you can't waste coffee, not in front of the Boss, and I was trying to surprise him since he's always bringing me Caf Pow's, and are you okay, that coffee was hot!"

Michael blinked, his brain, not yet jumpstarted by the coffee he was in line to purchase, not quite up to the task of processing the stream of consciousness babble that would have put a certain ex to shame, especially not when compounded by the woman's appearance, a dark and gothic look at complete odds with the cheerful energy practically vibrating off of her in waves. "I'm fine," he finally replied, his tone more curt than he'd intended as he let go of her arms and took a step back.

The woman's eyes widened further in apology and she reached down and picked up the empty cup, her black pigtails bouncing as she grimaced at the small puddle of coffee on the floor, much smaller than the still warm and wet patch on his back. "Here, let me buy your coffee. I've got to start paying more attention, you'd think I'd be better at it, it is my job to see all the details after all, but I get so focused and –" she paused abruptly as the cashier turned to smile at them. "Hello! It's me again; can I get another one of these?" she asked brightly, holding up the empty cup, "And whatever he wants, oh, and you should probably get one of those signs about the wet floors?"

The blonde woman behind the counter looked about as overwhelmed as Michael felt, but quickly nodded, sending one of her coworkers out to deal with the spill and getting two coffees ready for them in record time. "Thanks so much, have a great day!" the woman, whose name he now knew was Abby, exclaimed as she picked up the two coffees and spun towards him, making Michael flinch involuntarily as he braced for another hot 'shower'. But the lids remained safely on the cups and he warily accepted his from her with a nod of thanks even as he carefully kept a small distance between them just in case she 'lost focus' again.

"I hope you like your coffee, I think it's disgusting although I'll drink it if the caffeine withdrawal gets bad enough; Caf Pow's are way better, but the Boss loves it so I guess it can't be all bad. It was nice to meet you, but I have to go now, sorry again about your shirt. Bye!" Abby rattled off cheerfully after waving off his thanks for the coffee, and vanished out the door before he could reply to anything else she'd said.

Michael stared bemusedly after her, distantly wishing that Liz had been there, because he doubted she'd believe his description of the woman. But his current girlfriend had already left their apartment for her new job at the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, a fact that made him grimace with remembered distaste, the bubbly goth girl vanishing from his thoughts. He still thought working for the government in any capacity was a horribly bad idea, despite all of Liz's perfectly logical reasons why it was a good idea.

Between her and Isabel, he was going to end up reverting to his teenaged habits of blowing up random objects, and then he'd be the one burning random strangers with hot beverages.

The coffee on his shirt was beginning to dry and stick uncomfortably to his skin and his lips twisted contrarily into a smirk; if nothing else, the encounter had given him a brief respite from his aggravating thoughts. Tipping his coffee cup in the direction of the door in a silent salute, he took a long drink of the rich, hot beverage, and hoped that her mysterious boss got to enjoy his coffee without further mishap.