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The bullpen was quieter than usual that morning, the normal hum of activity dulled by the absence of their lead agent. Gibbs was out, having been called to a meeting at the Pentagon early that morning, and the team was taking advantage of the rare lull to catch up on paperwork and enjoy a slightly more relaxed atmosphere.
Leah, however, was not having a very easy day. She'd woken up feeling the onset of a cold but had decided to tough it out. She’d been at NCIS long enough to know that taking a sick day wasn’t an option unless you were practically on your deathbed. So, she’d bundled up, armed herself with tissues and cold medicine, and headed into the office.
Upon arrival, she'd immediately felt the chill in the air, her desk positioned under one of the notoriously cold air vents. Shivering, she’d glanced around the bullpen, her eyes falling on Gibbs' desk. There it was, the familiar, worn grey company hoodie he often had draped over his chair this time of year. A quick look around confirmed what she already knew. Gibbs wasn’t in yet. Without a second thought, she grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over her head, the soft, well worn fabric immediately providing a comforting warmth.
Settling back at her desk, Leah tried to focus on the files in front of her, but her head was pounding, and the words seemed to blur together. She blew her nose for what felt like the hundredth time and sighed, leaning back in her chair.
“Hey, Massey,” Tony’s voice broke through her fog. She looked up to see him standing by her desk, a curious look on his face. “Feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just a cold,” she replied, trying to sound more energetic than she felt.
Tony’s eyes drifted to the hoodie she was wearing, and he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nice hoodie.”
Leah felt her cheeks heat up. “It was cold in here,” she mumbled, knowing full well that Tony recognized Gibbs’ hoodie.
Tony opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, McGee appeared behind him, holding a coffee cup. “You want some coffee, Massey? Might help you feel better.”
“Thanks, McGee,” Leah said, gratefully accepting the cup. She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her, and gave him a small smile.
McGee’s eyes also lingered on the hoodie, but he wisely chose not to comment. Instead, he returned to his desk, leaving Leah to her work.
Ziva passed by a few minutes later, her keen eyes immediately noticing the oversized hoodie. She gave Leah a knowing look but didn’t say anything, just nodded in acknowledgment before settling into her own work.
The morning passed in a blur of tissues and paperwork, Leah’s head aching more with each passing hour. By lunchtime, she was ready to collapse, but she stubbornly stayed at her desk, determined to make it through the day.
Around two in the afternoon, Gibbs finally returned, immediately taking in the scene of his team, hard at work, or hardly working, as the case may be. He walked over to Leah’s desk, his expression unreadable. “Hey there, Massey.”
She looked up, trying to muster a smile. “Hey, Gibbs.”
He studied her for a moment, then reached over and gently tugged at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Cold?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was—”
He held up a hand, cutting her off. “Keep it,” he said simply, before turning and heading to his own desk.
Leah blinked in surprise, watching him go. She glanced over at Tony, who gave her a wink, and McGee, who just smiled. Even Ziva looked amused.
For the rest of the day, no one mentioned the hoodie, and Leah was grateful for the silent support of her team. As the day came to a close, she finally allowed herself to relax, feeling a little better despite her cold.
When she left that evening, she made sure to drape Gibbs’ hoodie carefully over his chair, a silent thank you for his unspoken kindness.