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"It's the end of the world," Abby whispered. Coming home that night, McGee decided he believed her. Gibbs was gone. There was nothing left. He collapsed on the bed, too exhausted to undress.
An hour later, he opened his eyes and saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway. McGee had no words, but found he didn't need them.
He arrived at work early Monday morning and sat enjoying the silence, a hint of Old Spice still clinging to his jacket. It was still the end of the world, but he'd begun to think it might not be so bad.
Normally, DiNozzo didn't give a damn about protocol, but this was different. Okay, so they were his rules that he'd made up and never told anyone--that was beside the point. Probie should have known.
Maybe he had. He'd stood too close to Gibbs, talked too much with him, given him DiNozzo's barbecue, for fuck's sake... How could he not know how wrong that was? DiNozzo had only had one headsmack in two days, and it was given in McGee's defense! That hurt.
McGee would pay. Somehow. He had to learn not to mess with the proper order of things.
DiNozzo had once jokingly called himself Gibbs's "loyal St. Bernard," but even he couldn't match McGee's puppylike devotion. The trouble was, Gibbs didn't seem to be a dog person. It hurt to watch the boss banter with DiNozzo, knowing that the reasons he didn't receive similar treatment went deeper than his status as "probie." Try as he might, he could never make Gibbs smile like that.
Sometimes he screwed up deliberately, spilled Gibbs's coffee or said something stupid, just to get his own headsmack. Just that little, casual touch...
But it never felt like it looked when DiNozzo got it.