Title: Coffeeshop, Ch. 8
Rating: K
Spoilers: Nope.
A/N: Well, here it is. It's been a rather long but very fun journey--and I've enjoyed every minute of it. Again, I can't give enough thanks to all of you who read and reviewed this fic. I appreciated every bit of encouragement. And so far, at the end of my second foray into the realm of fanfiction, all I can say is that I'm having a ton of fun and can't wait to start another one!! So please let me know what you think of this last little tidbit--and, as always, enjoy. :)
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It's been two years now, and they still come in for coffee every Saturday morning. I still make him a black brew that could probably take the paint off metal and still mix her a rich Colombian with milk and a little sugar.
Mike, who is still stick-thin and unlucky with girls, gazes longingly in her direction when he thinks Agent Gibbs isn't looking and pretends to be very, very busy when he is. They still sit at the little table by the window, and they still hold hands when they walk down the sidewalk before coming in the door.
She looks more confident, more self-assured, with some of that perky energy replaced by a determined focus that does nothing to dim the sparkle of her personality. In contrast, he looks a little softer around the edges, with some of the lines worn by time and disappointment smoothed out of his face. But his eyes are still blue and blade-sharp, and hers are still huge and expressive and chocolate brown. And they still laugh together like they have a delightful secret that no one else can share.
I've almost gotten used to the glitter of the diamond on her finger, right next to the simple gold band that she rubs absently every now and again as if to remind herself that it's still there. It's been easier to get used to that than to the sight of a matching band on his roughened hand. I guess those two gold circles are proof that anything's possible—and by that, I mean anything.
I can see them in another couple of years, coming in with a stroller and diaper bags. I can envision a little girl with her wide smile and his blue eyes, or a little boy with her dark hair and his sneaky charm. I think they'll make good parents—between her unflagging love of life and his subtle sense of humor. And in my mind's eye I look down the road and see two tables pushed together against the window with a cluttered mess of crayons and plastic dinosaurs and coffee cups strewn over them. It'll be the devil to clean up, but somehow I don't think I'll mind too much.
I'm happy for them. Really, I am. Sometimes I wish that I had been the one to fall in love with a cute co-worker and get married, but then I take a look at Mike and fall back to earth in a hurry. (That is never going to happen. Not in this lifetime, anyway.) But Kate and Gibbs fit together in a way that few couples ever do, and I'm glad that despite the odds they found each other and stuck it out. It wasn't necessarily easy, but somehow they managed anyway.
There's just one promise I've made to myself, and I'm determined to carry it out. So help me, if they bring their first child in here—whichever gender it may be—and he feeds the poor kid so much as a drop of that thinly disguised poison he calls coffee, I'm going to quit. Hang up my apron, throw out my time card, and hand the keys to Mike so he can lock up that night. Right after I call Child Protective Services.
Then, of course, I'll have to go out and get a new job. I could always waitress, or tend bar, or do a million other odd jobs that no one else ever notices and that no one in their right mind would ever want to do. It won't be easy at first--but after nearly eight years in a coffee shop, I imagine that any other profession will ultimately seem like a walk in the park. At least my feet will get a few days of rest while I'm online job-hunting.
Or maybe—just maybe—I'll walk down the street to the red brick building with the pretty lawn and the sign that says "Naval Criminal Investigative Service Headquarters" and hand in my application.
I've always wanted to be a federal agent. And NCIS sounds like it might be sort of fun.