#marinescoffee

                                               HOUSES ARE FUNNY THINGS. Oftentimes, they express something unspeakable about the people who inhabit them. And sometimes, they say things about their owners that their owners would rather left unsaid. Take hers, for instance: inherited, in the family for years, too ornate and too grand for just one person, but she insists on keeping it. Of course, it’s not her house that she walks through now. This one is just as quiet, just as empty, just as sad, and there are haunting memories that she can’t understand but she knows must be gathering dust in the corners. 

     She wends her way to the only place in his house that seems to have a semblance of life. She’s halfway down the basement stairs before she clears her throat to announce her presence. And she doesn’t speak until she’s standing above him and the skeleton of his boat.

no.

                                                        THERE’S A SUDDEN CRACK  as the door of her office bursts open unceremoniously; she doesn’t even have to glance from the screen of her computer to figure out who it is. Her lips thin in tacit annoyance as she pointedly finishes reading a report from the agent afloat on the USS Shiloh without greeting her impatient visitor. 

     She can practically feel his stare boring into her brain, but she doesn’t look up. If he’s going to act like he owns the place, it’s the least she can do to remind him of who’s working for whom. Her eyes slide absentmindedly over the final two paragraphs of the report, not truly registering what she’s reading, because she can’t help but feel that familiar thrum in her chest whenever he appears unexpectedly. It’s the promise of something out of the ordinary. A problem, perhaps, that he can’t quite solve? A question about a case that needs clearing up? They never just chat ( although she’d be happy to oblige him, should he ever wish to strike up an innocuous conversation unrelated to their respective jobs ); it’s always something interesting. Dangerous, even. And sitting behind a desk has made her miss the field more than she had ever thought possible. 

     But finally, she figures that she’s made him wait long enough. She’s sure he’s rolled his eyes, maybe even grunted a time or two, but after all the effort she’d exuded when scolding him this morning for his bad workplace manners, it’s nice to see that he took the hint. 

➒ a letter meant to be read only once my character is dead

Dear Boss, 

Dear Gibbs,

Hey Gibbs, 

Gibbs,

I hope you never read this, I really do, but life is a mythic bitch and I think you know that better than anyone I know except maybe Tony but, whatever. I rewrite this letter once a week, which seems strange, but things change our lives everyday. I could write an twenty page letter to you, I really could, but I’ll keep it short and sweet, just like you always do.

Gibbs, you’ve done so much for me and changed my life in a way I will never forget. You’ve picked me up when I’ve been down especially when I found out about Jake, you’ve taught me so much that I didn’t know before, accepted me as part of the family team, and most importantly, brought me out of my shell. I was that NSA kid who sat alone and listened to music while working, just leaving crumbs everywhere. Funny, you have a way of changing people.

Remember the first day we met? I’ll never forget it. That was the day I started looking up to you, glad you wanted to keep me around for the joint-duty work. I know I thanked you, but I wish there was more I could say to you about that. You helped shape me to be a better person. 

Now as I look across the squad room, empty and dark except for your desk, which you’re at, sleeping cause I know this case took a lot out of you too, and I can’t help but smile. You’ve become like a second father to me, which I value above all else. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life than when I’m with you guys in the field or interrogation, or even the bullpen just hanging around. I’ll miss you a lot when I’m gone.

With love from the desk next to yours,

Send me a 🏠+ a Name  and I’d answer these questions if my muse and them lived together. Works for all relationships

Who’s Neater?: Ellie and Gibbs both keep neat pretty well, but Ellie is more neat in an objective home sense, but at works she’s messy as hell.

What’s The Most Annoying Thing Each of them Do: Ellie turns up her music too loud. Gibbs doesn’t make up the couch when he gets up in the mornings and Ellie gets annoyed because she’s a bit more of a neat freak than him.

Who cooks the most: I think they take turns cooking

How are chores organized?: They each takes turns doing chores around the house. They usually switch every week.

What do they do together at home?: They might watch movies or Ellie might sit there and watch him work on his boat.

Who has more friends over?: Ellie probably would have more friends over, but she enjoys her peace and quiet as much as Gibbs.

Who visits them the most?: Tony visits them the most. Probably because he’s so used to visiting Gibbs a lot in the first place.

Who leaves things in the oven?: I think Ellie is more likely to leave things in the oven because she uses the oven more.

What do they the do if they walk in on the other one crying?: Gibbs would comfort Ellie and sit there with her until she stopped crying and offer to take her to ice cream. Ellie would be shocked if Gibbs was crying but she would try her best to make him feel better.

Have they ever walked in on the other having sex?: No because both of them are single.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Her fingers danced along the sleeve of her shirt and eventually reached the end by her wrist. The button was fumbled with in her hand and then abandoned as her hands slip into her pockets.

“It’s just... We decided who’s keeping the apartment and Jake is going to keep it as long as I can take whatever I want. I just couldn’t bare living there. Your house is safe, neutral.”

She looked up at him with a smile and bright, yet slightly damp hazel eyes. She wasn’t used to this kind of stuff yet, and she surely didn’t want to impose. She was already on the lookout for a new apartment so she wouldn’t have to stay long.

Tony could scarcely believe the words that he was hearing, [ "You’ll do. It’s your team now." ] couldn’t understand the hand on his shoulder, the badge and gun in his hands [ they didn’t belong to him. and since when couldn’t he understand Gibbs? ]. Was Gibbs quitting because of a stupid superior, a stupid fucking decision that cost the lives of the marines on that boat [ he could taste the ashes from that explosion in his mouth, the bitterness that came from superiors whose heads were too far up their asses to give a damn about anything but their own careers ].

He continued to stare, dumbfounded, as Gibbs moved across the room [ told Tim he was a good agent, silenced Abby in a way that made his pulse throb from anger, could hear the barely audible murmur stated to Ziva, saw him leave after stating his pretty words “Semper Fi” but that wasn’t really true now was it? ].

Abby started to break down and cry, collapsing onto Tim who held her close to his chest. Ziva moved upstairs to talk with the director, who looked so sad at the elevator doors.