Returning (Chapter 14)
Title: Returning (Chapter 14)
Author: Purerose
Fandom: NCIS
Prompt: 009 Clean
Character/Pairing: Kate/Gibbs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1132
Summary: Gibbs gets out of the hospital.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: Wish that I owned NCIS... maybe for Christmas...
I had an unexpected day off last Wednesday so I got that chapter up slightly earlier than planned which was just as well because I only wrote this one on Thursday... I was on the boat and it just came to me, I was going to save it until later but this seemed like an easier way of getting Gibbs out of hospital :D I also realised that I hadn't been very good at updating my prompt table, so the number of links should now match the actual chapters.
Hope you enjoy it... I know I have class on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday... the next chapter may be up on Wednesday or Friday. One of my upcoming chapters (possibly the next one unless I rearrange things again) will be Puppy Love... just in case you were wondering.
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6] [ Chapter 7] [ Chapter 8] [ Chapter 9] [ Chapter 10] [ Chapter 11] [ Chapter 12] [ Chapter 13]
Your daughters do not understand the concept of tidying up. You find this odd, they’ve never lived with anyone other than you and you’ve always been so house-proud. However the morning before Gibbs is due to leave the hospital you take a good hard look around the house. Somehow your standards have slipped, the constant drives backwards and forwards to the hospital, picking up paperwork for your impending return to NCIS and other little tasks have caused your housework to be neglected.
Surveying your living room there are the remains of countless snacks from the girls; crumbs mostly but there’s something which looks like ground up apple beside the couch. Rebel’s fur has coated the carpet. You silently curse yourself for taking on such an impossible dog, his fur cleverly changes colour; white at one end, black at the other. The light carpet in the lounge is tinged with black, the dark carpet in the hall covered in white. Considering the amount of fur blanketing the house the dog should be bald by now.
You dress in old, worn clothes, place your daughters in their play pen, tie back your hair and get to work. Dusting, polishing, attacking the bathroom and kitchen with every cleaning product known to man. It takes two attempts at each room to cut through the layer of dog fur lying on the carpet.
The girls watch your furious attack on the house with bemused expressions on their faces. As soon as she spots the vacuum cleaner Elizabeth begins to bawl. She hates the noise and you usually wait until she is asleep to do any kind of cleaning but today there isn’t the time. Luckily for you Bridget is willing to help her sister overcome her fear and she soon devises a brilliant game.
You leave the room for just a few moments, to empty the vacuum and take out the trash. When you return you almost immediately stand on a small stuffed animal. Wondering how you missed something that was bright pink and laying in the middle of the floor you pick it up and prepare to put it away. Then you notice two plastic building blocks, three more stuffed animals and two toy boats.
Standing up in the play pen, still holding a little plastic truck and taking aim, is Bridget. She’s grinning widely and has obviously decided that this is a wonderful game. Behind her is Elizabeth, partner in crime. Although she’s opted to chew on the toy horse she’s holding you know that mere seconds beforehand, like her sister, she was preparing to toss it out of the pen too.
You sigh, round up all the toys (while dodging Bridget’s low-flying stuffed animals), dump the offending objects back into the play pen and retrieve your daughters. You are about to deposit them into their respective high chairs when you glance at the now sparkling kitchen. It seems like such a shame to make a mess cooking and preparing food for the girls. Not to mention the fact that after a marathon tidying session washing up lunch things doesn’t really appeal to you at all.
So instead of getting out plates and bowls you grab shoes and coats, locate Rebel’s leash and the four of you head out to find food elsewhere. There’s a café across the road from the park where you walk Rebel. The food is cheap, the people are friendly and the woman who runs it thinks the girls are cute so gives you free refills of your chosen beverage.
The day is fairly warm for the time of year, the girls and Rebel are in high spirits, and the longer you keep the little devils out of the house the longer it stays in pristine condition ready for Gibbs’ return, so after lunch you decide to take a walk through the park before heading back to the house.
No sooner have you stepped inside the park grounds do you realise that coming here is probably a mistake. Despite the warmer weather the ground has not yet recovered from the storm and torrential downpower just a few days earlier. The path that you have chosen consists largely of puddles which splash up your legs as the stroller runs through them. Worst of all is when you loosen your grip on Rebel’s leash and he disappears into the bushes at the side of the path.
By the time you coax him back, by calling “Rebel! BISCUITS!” at the top of your voice for a few minutes, your dog is largely black and brown, barely a white hair in sight. All thoughts of a relaxing evening with your girls are immediately scattered and you start trying to plan how to get him into the house without undoing that morning’s handiwork.
Of course you’ve spent a lot of time in the presence of military personel so on the way home you carefully plan your strategy the way your colleagues would plan a military assault. It involves leaving Rebel outside while you put the girls some place safe, covering the floor with copious amounts of newspaper and getting Rebel straight into the shower. You never really imagine it working.
Amazingly it goes off without a hitch and despite a slight hint of ‘eau de wet dog’ the house remains as unsoiled as before.
Until the following morning.
When you reach the hospital Gibbs dressed and ready go, and apparently pleased to see you, there’s time to say ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors before he is struggling to move you towards the door. His movements are slow and he’s obviously still in pain but he’s doing his best not to let you see. You can’t miss the way that he winces as he gets into the car.
Pulling up outside the house you turn to him. “I’ve got a bit of housework to do once we get indoors, are you okay to watch the girls? If you just want to rest I can take them across the road to Mrs. Reineck’s.”
Gibbs smiles. “I think I can handle them.”
As you help him out of the car you explain the events of the previous day to him. How you cleaned and tidied all morning, how Rebel got covered in mud and threatened to ruin all your hard work, and how that morning you’d gone out to retrieve the post while still half asleep and traipsed mud through from the front door to the kitchen before realising what you had done.
“It was clean yesterday.” You explain with a little shrug hoping that he won’t be annoyed at how his home has fallen into ruin during the week that he was away.
Gibbs laughs and you know that he’s just glad to be back here.
Author: Purerose
Fandom: NCIS
Prompt: 009 Clean
Character/Pairing: Kate/Gibbs
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1132
Summary: Gibbs gets out of the hospital.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: Wish that I owned NCIS... maybe for Christmas...
I had an unexpected day off last Wednesday so I got that chapter up slightly earlier than planned which was just as well because I only wrote this one on Thursday... I was on the boat and it just came to me, I was going to save it until later but this seemed like an easier way of getting Gibbs out of hospital :D I also realised that I hadn't been very good at updating my prompt table, so the number of links should now match the actual chapters.
Hope you enjoy it... I know I have class on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday... the next chapter may be up on Wednesday or Friday. One of my upcoming chapters (possibly the next one unless I rearrange things again) will be Puppy Love... just in case you were wondering.
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [ Chapter 4] [ Chapter 5] [ Chapter 6] [ Chapter 7] [ Chapter 8] [ Chapter 9] [ Chapter 10] [ Chapter 11] [ Chapter 12] [ Chapter 13]
Your daughters do not understand the concept of tidying up. You find this odd, they’ve never lived with anyone other than you and you’ve always been so house-proud. However the morning before Gibbs is due to leave the hospital you take a good hard look around the house. Somehow your standards have slipped, the constant drives backwards and forwards to the hospital, picking up paperwork for your impending return to NCIS and other little tasks have caused your housework to be neglected.
Surveying your living room there are the remains of countless snacks from the girls; crumbs mostly but there’s something which looks like ground up apple beside the couch. Rebel’s fur has coated the carpet. You silently curse yourself for taking on such an impossible dog, his fur cleverly changes colour; white at one end, black at the other. The light carpet in the lounge is tinged with black, the dark carpet in the hall covered in white. Considering the amount of fur blanketing the house the dog should be bald by now.
You dress in old, worn clothes, place your daughters in their play pen, tie back your hair and get to work. Dusting, polishing, attacking the bathroom and kitchen with every cleaning product known to man. It takes two attempts at each room to cut through the layer of dog fur lying on the carpet.
The girls watch your furious attack on the house with bemused expressions on their faces. As soon as she spots the vacuum cleaner Elizabeth begins to bawl. She hates the noise and you usually wait until she is asleep to do any kind of cleaning but today there isn’t the time. Luckily for you Bridget is willing to help her sister overcome her fear and she soon devises a brilliant game.
You leave the room for just a few moments, to empty the vacuum and take out the trash. When you return you almost immediately stand on a small stuffed animal. Wondering how you missed something that was bright pink and laying in the middle of the floor you pick it up and prepare to put it away. Then you notice two plastic building blocks, three more stuffed animals and two toy boats.
Standing up in the play pen, still holding a little plastic truck and taking aim, is Bridget. She’s grinning widely and has obviously decided that this is a wonderful game. Behind her is Elizabeth, partner in crime. Although she’s opted to chew on the toy horse she’s holding you know that mere seconds beforehand, like her sister, she was preparing to toss it out of the pen too.
You sigh, round up all the toys (while dodging Bridget’s low-flying stuffed animals), dump the offending objects back into the play pen and retrieve your daughters. You are about to deposit them into their respective high chairs when you glance at the now sparkling kitchen. It seems like such a shame to make a mess cooking and preparing food for the girls. Not to mention the fact that after a marathon tidying session washing up lunch things doesn’t really appeal to you at all.
So instead of getting out plates and bowls you grab shoes and coats, locate Rebel’s leash and the four of you head out to find food elsewhere. There’s a café across the road from the park where you walk Rebel. The food is cheap, the people are friendly and the woman who runs it thinks the girls are cute so gives you free refills of your chosen beverage.
The day is fairly warm for the time of year, the girls and Rebel are in high spirits, and the longer you keep the little devils out of the house the longer it stays in pristine condition ready for Gibbs’ return, so after lunch you decide to take a walk through the park before heading back to the house.
No sooner have you stepped inside the park grounds do you realise that coming here is probably a mistake. Despite the warmer weather the ground has not yet recovered from the storm and torrential downpower just a few days earlier. The path that you have chosen consists largely of puddles which splash up your legs as the stroller runs through them. Worst of all is when you loosen your grip on Rebel’s leash and he disappears into the bushes at the side of the path.
By the time you coax him back, by calling “Rebel! BISCUITS!” at the top of your voice for a few minutes, your dog is largely black and brown, barely a white hair in sight. All thoughts of a relaxing evening with your girls are immediately scattered and you start trying to plan how to get him into the house without undoing that morning’s handiwork.
Of course you’ve spent a lot of time in the presence of military personel so on the way home you carefully plan your strategy the way your colleagues would plan a military assault. It involves leaving Rebel outside while you put the girls some place safe, covering the floor with copious amounts of newspaper and getting Rebel straight into the shower. You never really imagine it working.
Amazingly it goes off without a hitch and despite a slight hint of ‘eau de wet dog’ the house remains as unsoiled as before.
Until the following morning.
When you reach the hospital Gibbs dressed and ready go, and apparently pleased to see you, there’s time to say ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors before he is struggling to move you towards the door. His movements are slow and he’s obviously still in pain but he’s doing his best not to let you see. You can’t miss the way that he winces as he gets into the car.
Pulling up outside the house you turn to him. “I’ve got a bit of housework to do once we get indoors, are you okay to watch the girls? If you just want to rest I can take them across the road to Mrs. Reineck’s.”
Gibbs smiles. “I think I can handle them.”
As you help him out of the car you explain the events of the previous day to him. How you cleaned and tidied all morning, how Rebel got covered in mud and threatened to ruin all your hard work, and how that morning you’d gone out to retrieve the post while still half asleep and traipsed mud through from the front door to the kitchen before realising what you had done.
“It was clean yesterday.” You explain with a little shrug hoping that he won’t be annoyed at how his home has fallen into ruin during the week that he was away.
Gibbs laughs and you know that he’s just glad to be back here.