Challenge #1: Bingo Tiles
Oct. 18th, 2012 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sondheimmcgeek posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
the_navy_yardI've finished all of my Bingo Tiles! I've got 4 fics and the rest are icons!
Bingo icons
Alone:
Badge:
Blue:
Boat:
Bullpen:
Christmas (Free):
Coffee:
Death:
Family (Free):
Fancy:
Female:
Flames:
Gear:
Gun:
Handcuffs:
Kiss (Free):
Lab:
Male:
Morgue:
Ships:
Undercover:
Beer:
In the work of law enforcement, most days are worse than others. It’s rare to have a really good day, even if you do catch the bad guys. It doesn’t change the fact that someone is dead or that someone was hurt. The damage is usually already done. It’s hard, living a life like this, knowing that your work usually falls under the “too little, too late” category. You need a way to cope when you get home, a way to relax, lest you should allow this sad fact of life get to you.
Gibbs slipped through his front door, not bothering to lock it behind him. The day had been hard. Harder than most. It was bad enough when someone gets killed; it’s even worse when the victim is a child. There’s something so unnatural about it a parent having to bury a child. Gibbs, of all people, knows that. He needs something to take his mind off the case.
He headed straight for the fridge, ready to grab a cold beer and sit back on the couch. But as soon as he opened the fridge door he saw that his plans were foiled. He was out of beer.
Gibbs cursed under his breath. He’d meant to go grocery shopping three days earlier, but this case had called the team into work and they’d barely seen the inside of their own homes in that time. Gibbs hadn’t even come home once in that time, preferring to sleep at the office while he worked. Now it was almost eleven at night. He knew there would still be a couple of liquor stores open, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to go back out.
Just as he’d grabbed his coat, though, there was a knock at the door. He opened it to reveal Ducky, standing there with a newly-bought six-pack.
“Should have known it was you, Duck,” Gibbs said, stepped aside to let his friend in. “You always knock.”
“I do not like entering a home without knocking, Jethro. It’s so uncivilized.”
“What brings you here?” Gibbs asked.
“Well, I know how hard this case was on you, so I thought you may need a little help.”
“Never pegged you for a beer drinker.”
“I’m not, but I thought the occasion called for it.” Ducky grabbed one of the beers out and handed it to Gibbs. “They’re not quite cold, but I assumed that wouldn’t be a problem.”
Gibbs popped off the top and took a long swig. “Thanks, Duck.”
Sometimes you just needed a good beer and an even better friend.
Birthday:
Gibbs hated birthdays. To him they were just another reminder that he was a year older and a year closer to forced retirement. Unfortunately, men in their seventies don’t make very good agents.
Abby, on the other hand, loved birthdays, and not just her own, either. She loved everyone’s birthday. For her it was just another reason to celebrate, which is what Abby did best.
“Happy Birthday, Gibbs!”
Of course she was there, at his desk, bright and early that morning, holding a small cake with a lone candle. Even Abby had the good grace to discontinue the tradition of using candles to signify a person’s age. Besides, at his age the building would likely have caught on fire.
“I know the cake says ‘Happy Birthday, Gimms,’ but when I ordered it over the phone I accidentally had food in my mouth, so I guess the baker didn’t hear me too well. Oh, and I made sure not to get chocolate this time since you told me you hate it,” she rambled, placing the cake in front of him. She then looked furtively from side to side as she reached into her pocket and retrieved a lighter.
“Okay, we’ll have to be quick, Gibbs, before that nosy woman from the safety department pops up and reminds us of the fire regulations in the building.”
“Abbs, you don’t have to light it.”
“Gibbs! Of course I do! If I don’t light the candle, you can’t blow it out. If you can’t blow it out, you can’t make a wish. And if you can’t make a wish, what’s the point of having a birthday cake anyway?”
He relented, helping keep an eye out as Abby lit the candle. Once lit, he leaned forward, contemplated for a moment, and then blew it out. Abby responded with gleeful applause.
“So what’d you wish for, Gibbs?” she asked as she handed him a fork.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tell.”
“You’re not, but I’m dying to know!”
Gibbs smiled and patted her hand. “I didn’t wish for anything, Abby. I’ve got everything I want right here.”
Candy:
“Tony, stop.”
“Come on, McGeek, I’m starving!”
“Then we should stop on the way and grab something to eat.”
“Why go to the trouble of finding a place when we have perfectly good food right here?”
“Candy isn’t food. It’s not going to make you less hungry, just more hyped up. Besides, they’re for my sister’s birthday.”
“You got her candy? Some big brother you are.”
“I got her favorite kind of candy.”
“Milk Duds?”
“Yeah, for some reason Sarah just goes crazy over them. She likes to mix them with Skittles. She swears they taste delicious together.”
“Your sister may be cute, but she has some really strange tastes in food. I didn’t think anything could top that pizza.”
“Can you not call my sister cute?”
“You want I should say she’s ugly?”
“No, just don’t talk about her looks at all, okay?”
“Can I say she has a wonderful personality, then? I mean that’s usually just code for ‘ugly’ but it may be--”
“Tony! Let’s just change the subject, okay?”
“Fine, McGrumpy. I’m still hungry.”
“Stop whining. We’ll stop somewhere.”
“I’m not whining.”
“He said whiningly.”
“Whiningly isn’t a word. Is it?”
“Tony, just keep your eyes on the road.”
“I will if you give me some of that candy.”
“I told you it’s for my sister.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about her.”
“Tony. Eyes. Road.”
“I don’t know, McGee. I’m starting to feel a little faint. I think I need some sustenance or I may black out and crash.”
“If you need sustenance then the last thing you want to eat is candy.”
“You said yourself it would give me a bit more pep. It’s not like you can’t buy another box of Milk Duds.”
“If I give you a few will you stop whining?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit, then, that you are whining?”
“Just give them over, McGoo.”
“Fine. Here.”
“Uh, my hands are kind of on the wheel at the moment.”
“So how do you expect to eat them?”
“You’ve got hands.”
“I am not feeding you Milk Duds. Just take them.”
“Just drop a few in my mouth.”
“No!”
“Come on!”
“Tony!”
“McGee!”
*CRASH*
“Tony, are you okay?”
“Yeah…looks like it was just a fender bender. You okay?”
“I’m fine, but most of the Milk Duds spilled onto the floor. Here, you can have the rest.”
“Thanks.”
“Tony, why do you have that look on your face?”
“I just remembered. I hate Milk Duds.”
Music:
It was no surprise to Tim that when he entered Abby’s lab he was immediately assaulted by the blaring sounds of Plastic Death’s latest album. He instinctively brought his hands to his ears, scowling when she turned to greet him. “You know this stuff will burst your eardrums if you keep listening to it at this volume!”
Abby rolled her eyes at Tim’s comment, convinced he was only shouting to be overly dramatic. Her music wasn’t that loud. Still, she relented and turned the volume down. But just a little bit.
“Why do you need that stuff anyway?” he asked, handing her the fingerprints they’d collected at the crime scene. “Can’t you just do your work like a normal person?”
“McGee, what about me says ‘normal’?” she asked. “I like having the music. It makes me more comfortable.”
“Sometimes you have it cranked up so high I swear the bullpen starts to shake.”
“No need for dramatics.”
“I was only half-joking, Abbs. Seriously, what’s with the music?”
“It helps me focus.”
“Heavy metal pounding your head helps you focus?”
“It helps drown out all the other white noise,” she said, giving him a sour look. “Haven’t you ever noticed how distracting silence can be? I mean, all the small noises, like the AC blowing and the footsteps of people passing, can really start to get to you.”
“If you say so,” he muttered.
“McGee, if you’re just going to sit here and criticize, you may as well just go back upstairs,” Abby said, giving him a none too gentle push towards the door. “I’ll call you when I have some results.”
He didn’t argue, especially once he heard the music return to a deafening volume. Instead, Tim headed back up to his desk. He had other work he needed to get done anyway.
Abby and her ridiculous notions, he thought. How could small sounds be more distracting than blaring music? Granted, now that he thought about it, the sound of Ziva stapling was a little on the grating side. Not to mention Tony slurping away at drink. Gibbs added to the orchestra of noise with his slow, measured clicks of his computer keys as he checked a lead. And had the wall clock always ticked that loudly?
Suddenly, Tim found himself very distracted by all the sounds around him. They were so small and yet…so large! How was a man supposed to get any work done?
***
“McGee! I told you I’d call when I had the results!”
Tim brushed past her, laptop in his arms, and sat down at the table. “I know, Abby, but I couldn’t concentrate up there. It’s too loud!”
Bingo icons
Alone:
Badge:
Blue:
Boat:
Bullpen:
Christmas (Free):
Coffee:
Death:
Family (Free):
Fancy:
Female:
Flames:
Gear:
Gun:
Handcuffs:
Kiss (Free):
Lab:
Male:
Morgue:
Ships:
Undercover:
Beer:
In the work of law enforcement, most days are worse than others. It’s rare to have a really good day, even if you do catch the bad guys. It doesn’t change the fact that someone is dead or that someone was hurt. The damage is usually already done. It’s hard, living a life like this, knowing that your work usually falls under the “too little, too late” category. You need a way to cope when you get home, a way to relax, lest you should allow this sad fact of life get to you.
Gibbs slipped through his front door, not bothering to lock it behind him. The day had been hard. Harder than most. It was bad enough when someone gets killed; it’s even worse when the victim is a child. There’s something so unnatural about it a parent having to bury a child. Gibbs, of all people, knows that. He needs something to take his mind off the case.
He headed straight for the fridge, ready to grab a cold beer and sit back on the couch. But as soon as he opened the fridge door he saw that his plans were foiled. He was out of beer.
Gibbs cursed under his breath. He’d meant to go grocery shopping three days earlier, but this case had called the team into work and they’d barely seen the inside of their own homes in that time. Gibbs hadn’t even come home once in that time, preferring to sleep at the office while he worked. Now it was almost eleven at night. He knew there would still be a couple of liquor stores open, but he wasn’t looking forward to having to go back out.
Just as he’d grabbed his coat, though, there was a knock at the door. He opened it to reveal Ducky, standing there with a newly-bought six-pack.
“Should have known it was you, Duck,” Gibbs said, stepped aside to let his friend in. “You always knock.”
“I do not like entering a home without knocking, Jethro. It’s so uncivilized.”
“What brings you here?” Gibbs asked.
“Well, I know how hard this case was on you, so I thought you may need a little help.”
“Never pegged you for a beer drinker.”
“I’m not, but I thought the occasion called for it.” Ducky grabbed one of the beers out and handed it to Gibbs. “They’re not quite cold, but I assumed that wouldn’t be a problem.”
Gibbs popped off the top and took a long swig. “Thanks, Duck.”
Sometimes you just needed a good beer and an even better friend.
Birthday:
Gibbs hated birthdays. To him they were just another reminder that he was a year older and a year closer to forced retirement. Unfortunately, men in their seventies don’t make very good agents.
Abby, on the other hand, loved birthdays, and not just her own, either. She loved everyone’s birthday. For her it was just another reason to celebrate, which is what Abby did best.
“Happy Birthday, Gibbs!”
Of course she was there, at his desk, bright and early that morning, holding a small cake with a lone candle. Even Abby had the good grace to discontinue the tradition of using candles to signify a person’s age. Besides, at his age the building would likely have caught on fire.
“I know the cake says ‘Happy Birthday, Gimms,’ but when I ordered it over the phone I accidentally had food in my mouth, so I guess the baker didn’t hear me too well. Oh, and I made sure not to get chocolate this time since you told me you hate it,” she rambled, placing the cake in front of him. She then looked furtively from side to side as she reached into her pocket and retrieved a lighter.
“Okay, we’ll have to be quick, Gibbs, before that nosy woman from the safety department pops up and reminds us of the fire regulations in the building.”
“Abbs, you don’t have to light it.”
“Gibbs! Of course I do! If I don’t light the candle, you can’t blow it out. If you can’t blow it out, you can’t make a wish. And if you can’t make a wish, what’s the point of having a birthday cake anyway?”
He relented, helping keep an eye out as Abby lit the candle. Once lit, he leaned forward, contemplated for a moment, and then blew it out. Abby responded with gleeful applause.
“So what’d you wish for, Gibbs?” she asked as she handed him a fork.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tell.”
“You’re not, but I’m dying to know!”
Gibbs smiled and patted her hand. “I didn’t wish for anything, Abby. I’ve got everything I want right here.”
Candy:
“Tony, stop.”
“Come on, McGeek, I’m starving!”
“Then we should stop on the way and grab something to eat.”
“Why go to the trouble of finding a place when we have perfectly good food right here?”
“Candy isn’t food. It’s not going to make you less hungry, just more hyped up. Besides, they’re for my sister’s birthday.”
“You got her candy? Some big brother you are.”
“I got her favorite kind of candy.”
“Milk Duds?”
“Yeah, for some reason Sarah just goes crazy over them. She likes to mix them with Skittles. She swears they taste delicious together.”
“Your sister may be cute, but she has some really strange tastes in food. I didn’t think anything could top that pizza.”
“Can you not call my sister cute?”
“You want I should say she’s ugly?”
“No, just don’t talk about her looks at all, okay?”
“Can I say she has a wonderful personality, then? I mean that’s usually just code for ‘ugly’ but it may be--”
“Tony! Let’s just change the subject, okay?”
“Fine, McGrumpy. I’m still hungry.”
“Stop whining. We’ll stop somewhere.”
“I’m not whining.”
“He said whiningly.”
“Whiningly isn’t a word. Is it?”
“Tony, just keep your eyes on the road.”
“I will if you give me some of that candy.”
“I told you it’s for my sister.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about her.”
“Tony. Eyes. Road.”
“I don’t know, McGee. I’m starting to feel a little faint. I think I need some sustenance or I may black out and crash.”
“If you need sustenance then the last thing you want to eat is candy.”
“You said yourself it would give me a bit more pep. It’s not like you can’t buy another box of Milk Duds.”
“If I give you a few will you stop whining?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit, then, that you are whining?”
“Just give them over, McGoo.”
“Fine. Here.”
“Uh, my hands are kind of on the wheel at the moment.”
“So how do you expect to eat them?”
“You’ve got hands.”
“I am not feeding you Milk Duds. Just take them.”
“Just drop a few in my mouth.”
“No!”
“Come on!”
“Tony!”
“McGee!”
*CRASH*
“Tony, are you okay?”
“Yeah…looks like it was just a fender bender. You okay?”
“I’m fine, but most of the Milk Duds spilled onto the floor. Here, you can have the rest.”
“Thanks.”
“Tony, why do you have that look on your face?”
“I just remembered. I hate Milk Duds.”
Music:
It was no surprise to Tim that when he entered Abby’s lab he was immediately assaulted by the blaring sounds of Plastic Death’s latest album. He instinctively brought his hands to his ears, scowling when she turned to greet him. “You know this stuff will burst your eardrums if you keep listening to it at this volume!”
Abby rolled her eyes at Tim’s comment, convinced he was only shouting to be overly dramatic. Her music wasn’t that loud. Still, she relented and turned the volume down. But just a little bit.
“Why do you need that stuff anyway?” he asked, handing her the fingerprints they’d collected at the crime scene. “Can’t you just do your work like a normal person?”
“McGee, what about me says ‘normal’?” she asked. “I like having the music. It makes me more comfortable.”
“Sometimes you have it cranked up so high I swear the bullpen starts to shake.”
“No need for dramatics.”
“I was only half-joking, Abbs. Seriously, what’s with the music?”
“It helps me focus.”
“Heavy metal pounding your head helps you focus?”
“It helps drown out all the other white noise,” she said, giving him a sour look. “Haven’t you ever noticed how distracting silence can be? I mean, all the small noises, like the AC blowing and the footsteps of people passing, can really start to get to you.”
“If you say so,” he muttered.
“McGee, if you’re just going to sit here and criticize, you may as well just go back upstairs,” Abby said, giving him a none too gentle push towards the door. “I’ll call you when I have some results.”
He didn’t argue, especially once he heard the music return to a deafening volume. Instead, Tim headed back up to his desk. He had other work he needed to get done anyway.
Abby and her ridiculous notions, he thought. How could small sounds be more distracting than blaring music? Granted, now that he thought about it, the sound of Ziva stapling was a little on the grating side. Not to mention Tony slurping away at drink. Gibbs added to the orchestra of noise with his slow, measured clicks of his computer keys as he checked a lead. And had the wall clock always ticked that loudly?
Suddenly, Tim found himself very distracted by all the sounds around him. They were so small and yet…so large! How was a man supposed to get any work done?
***
“McGee! I told you I’d call when I had the results!”
Tim brushed past her, laptop in his arms, and sat down at the table. “I know, Abby, but I couldn’t concentrate up there. It’s too loud!”
no subject
Date: 2012-10-19 10:42 am (UTC)The fics were great. I love Candy and Music. But my favorite was Beer. I like Gibbs and Ducky's friendship.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-19 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-19 11:56 am (UTC)Urgh! I really need to focus & get my tile done.
Are any of your icons going to be up for adoption after the challenge? I really love the one of Gibbs & Jackson.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-19 03:24 pm (UTC)Feel free to use any of the icons! They are certainly up for grabs!
no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 04:28 pm (UTC)