#if you’re still reading these tags i’m impressed i could never with my abysmal attention span

[mangozic]

archivist be upon ye

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Benefits of Paperwork (Richard Winters x Reader)

As always, can be read as reader or OFC since its written as she/her. 

Warnings: None 

Words:1900ish

Tag list: @evelynshelby​

Dick Winters hated paperwork. 

Absolutely loathed it. 

Give him a platoon of men and orders to take a town or secure a crossing, and he would execute a plan to garner the best possible outcome. Give him a rifle and men from Easy Company and he knew what to do. Give him Sobel and Currahee again and he would run those three miles up, three miles back happily. 

He stared at the typewriter sitting on the desk before him, taunting him like a bad memory, reminding him of his failings.

Nix called paperwork a necessary evil. Dick could not agree more. 

He sat with a pencil between his lips, staring at the paper that so far had only his name, Easy Company and the date on it. That was all he had typed in the past twenty minutes for a report that was a week overdue. Words failed him. He was not sure if it was due to recalling and putting words to the mission or using the typewriter. 

Most likely the typewriter. 

His speed was abysmal and he hated to waste paper and ink. He knew it was not a big deal, he was a major for goodness sake, he did not need to feel like a schoolboy preparing for punishment with asking for more supplies. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. 

"Enter," he called out, assuming it was Nix coming for more Vat 69. Why he still put up with his friend's antics, he was not sure. Maybe it was a way for him to keep an eye on Nix's drinking or for Nix to self-regulate. 

"Major Winters."

The soft voice caused him to almost drop the pencil still sitting in-between his lips. Quickly he snatched it out and looked up to see the woman who had entered. She wore a WAC uniform, so she was not completely out of place being in the company's HQ. She seemed vaguely familiar but he could not put his finger on why. 

"Yes?" He rose out of his seat. "Something I can help you with, ma'am?"

"Sir, I was sent to tell you Coronel Sink is waiting for you."

He checked his watch. It was later than he thought. "Thank you." Looking down at the unfinished report, he sighed. Sink would be upset. There was no way he could delay this anymore. Other reports needed his attention. He could not help but wonder for the hundredth time if his acceptance of being a major was a mistake. He missed the men. He hated the paperwork. Was it worth it?

"Excuse me."

He glanced up, having forgotten she was still there. 

"I don't mean to intrude, but is that the report for Operation Hades?"

"Yes."

She smiled at his hesitation, taking another step into the room. "I know Coronel Sink has been breathing down your neck about that. If it would help, you can hand write it and I'll type it up for you or I'll transcribe what you say."

That was when he realized how he knew her. Or at least heard of her. Coronel Sink's secretary. He had heard some of the other officers, mainly Nix, talk about her but he had yet to run into her. She was prettier than he expected with bright eyes and a pleasant smile. He could understand why some of the men made excuses to need her assistance. Not that he was thinking about doing that, for the same reason. No, he simply could use her help...if she was offering. 

"Yeah, yeah...that would be helpful. If you're sure."

"Of course. I'll be free after the Coronel's last meeting at eighteen hundred, do you want me to come then?"

"Sure, sure. I'm fairly certain I'll still not have anything written."

A peal of laughter rang out and all he could compare it to was sunshine. It was light and lovely. He smiled in response, unable to help himself. It was pleasant to talk to someone about something other than orders and war...or even Nix's drinking. 

"I have faith in you sir. The Coronel is waiting for you in his office. I will see you later."

"Yes, right. Thank you."

She gave him another smile then slipped out his open door. Staring at that spot for a few extra moments, he finally had to shake himself and wipe the smile off his face. He grabbed his helmet and walked out, closing the door behind him. 

It would be nice to get help with those reports. It had nothing to do with staring at her...or hearing her voice...or basking in the joyful warmth she seemed to carry within her. 

No, he just needed help typing those reports before he threw the typewriter out the window. 

That was it. 

He was positive. 

*****

Evening came and so did the receptionist. For a brief moment, he worried she would not show then chastised himself. It should not matter if she came or not. Yet a piece of him hoped to see her again, to hear her laugh and be around someone who was not bogged down by war yet. It was selfish. It was pointless. They were in the middle of a war for goodness sake, there were more important things to worry about. 

With a knock on the door, she entered after he called and immediately sat behind his desk, making herself comfortable. 

"This is the report?"

He nodded, as he watched her from where he stood at the window. Picking up the piece of paper, she scanned it methodically. He had just barely had time to hand write the darn thing before she arrived. 

"This won't take long." Then she slipped a blank piece of paper into the typewriter, moved her chair just slightly closer and began typing. 

He had never seen someone type so fast, her fingers flew over the keys, never hesitating, completely confident. He could not help but be in awe for several minutes, then realized how disturbing his actions could be taken. Grabbing a pencil and paper, he began writing another report that was overdue. 

Over the next ten minutes he found himself sneaking glances at her, the typing of the keys and the ding of the margin bell a background noise. Her hair was short and perfectly curled, as seemed to be the fashion. Red lipstick made her lips look voluptuous. As she typed, she bit the corner of her bottom lip as she concentrated. He found the action oddly endearing. 

"I'm done, Major Winters." She looked over at him, hands in her lap. 

"Dick."

"Excuse me?"

He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "My name. You can...you can call me Dick."

"Oh." Standing up, she moved to stand in front of him with her hand out as she said her name. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dick."

He shook her hand, taking note of how soft her hands were except for the calluses on the ends of her fingers. "Pleasure is mine, and thank you for typing that." 

"Not a problem. You might want to look it over before I leave, just in case I missed something.  Otherwise, is there anything else I can help with?"

"No, no. I'm sure its great."

She waited, staring at him. Slowly the corners of her lips turned down just the slightest and she took a step back. "If you're sure. Well, have a good night, sir."

"Wait." He called out as she reached the door. He did not want her to leave, truthfully. Even though they barely talked, he had enjoyed her company. It felt selfish to ask her to stay...but her slight frown. It was impossible she wanted to stay too, right? That was just his imagination. 

"If it's not too much…" he hesitantly said, running a hand through his red hair, "...there's a few more reports I could use some help with."

A smile blossomed on her face that could rival the sun in its intensity. Immediately she walked back over and sat in the chair behind the desk. She looked at him expectantly, eyes bright, hands in her lap again. 

"Right." He was surprised by her assertion, and a little shocked she wanted to stay. His brain had not planned ahead to her sitting in his chair waiting, it had expected her to walk out the door. "Um, can you dictate?"

A smirk on her face, she cracked her knuckles then placed her fingers on the keys. "Try me."

*****

For the next week, when Winters was not otherwise engaged, evenings found both him and the secretary in his small office. Quickly they made progress on all the reports that were overdue but found themselves spending more time conversing about themselves than actually working as each evening passed.

"You've actually been to New York City?!" She exclaimed, eyes wide as she stared at him. 

He chuckled, leaning against the desk watching her. "Not for very long. Soon as the train arrived we were loaded onto the USS Samaria."

"Still, you must have been able to see some of the sights! Either way, you can say you were there. One day, I'm going to go."

"And what would you do there?" 

"Oh, see everything I can!" She waved her hands around exuberantly with a dreamy smile on her face. "Broadway, the Empire State Building, Coney Island. Just...anything."

"I'm sure you'll get there one day. You seem quite the determined sort."

A knock interrupted her laughter, both looking at one another in surprise. 

"Enter." Winters called. 

Lewis Nixon stepped in, ready to say something but when he noticed her sitting at the desk with Winters leaning against it, his mouth snapped shut and a smug smile appeared. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, Nix." He stood up, suddenly realizing how close they had been. When had that even happened? No wonder Nix got the wrong impression. 

"Are you sure? I can come back later once you've both...finished."

"Its fine. I should probably get going anyway. Coronel Sink is heading out tomorrow and needs me to join his entourage." She rose, smoothing out her dress before moving around the desk. 

Winters softly said her name, causing her to look over at him. "When you come back, if I'm still here…"

"I'll find you. I'm sure by then you'll have more reports for me." She stepped closer and pecked a kiss to his cheek. "Stay safe, Dick." 

He watched her walk away, shocked. During their evenings together he had certainty grown...fond...of her. He had not realized she might possibly feel the same way. After the door shut behind her, he realized his mouth was still hanging open. Slowly he closed it and turned his head to look at his friend. 

"You have lipstick on your cheek."  A shit-eating grin was plastered on Nix's face as he handed over a handkerchief. "So that's what has been distracting you during meetings, huh?"

"No…." Winters tried to wipe the lipstick off but worried he only smeared it. "...a little."

Nixon laughed. "I see that look. Mark my words, you're going to marry her….and you'll have to name your first born after me since I called it."

"I barely know her."

"First born had better be either Lewis or Nixon. I'll take either."

Winters shook his head, moving to sit behind his desk. He could hear Nixon digging around in his footlocker but his mind kept repeating the feel of her lips on his skin..and the idea of her as his wife. 

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 2

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Dean’s first priority after going back to the motel was getting Sam patched up. Y/N went to her own room and got into the shower to get the dingy warehouse stink off of her. The water pressure was abysmal but it got the job done.

She went back to the boys’ room and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the door open to see Dean wrapping Sam’s ribs. The younger Winchester clearly thought it was unnecessary if his facial expression was anything to go by, but he let Dean do it anyway. Sam knew better to argue with Dean in his ‘mother-hen’ mode.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sam could see the guilt in her eyes. If only she had followed orders, Sam wouldn’t have bruised ribs.

“Really, I’m good. I’ve had worse. It’s part of the job. We screw up and we learn. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Now you know better for next time.”

It surprised her that Sam could read her so well after just three days. She remembered their first interaction. She had stopped for a quick bite at a diner when they walked in and sat beside her on the breakfast bar. At first, she had ignored them, going back to studying the case she was in town for. That didn’t last long though, as pieces of their conversation caught her attention quite quickly.

“Do you guys always talk about cases this loudly in the middle of a diner where anyone could easily overhear you?” she had asked them, still looking through her notes, “cause that does not seem like a smart thing to do.”

She had finally looked up and saw them staring at her in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” The shorter one, which she would later learn was Dean, had said.

“You are hunters. Discussing a case as weird as this one out in public. Loudly. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop. Like I said – not smart.”

“You’re a hunter? You’re like 12!” Dean had exclaimed. He had obviously been exaggerating. For one, she was 15, not 12; and two, Dean was still under the impression that she was over 17 at least. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t look like an average 15-year-old and she had never bothered to correct him anyway.

They had gone on to argue over who would work on the case, and when neither party backed down, Sam had suggested they just all work together. The rest had been history.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when she registered what Sam had said.

“Wait, next time?”

Not happening. She liked the Winchesters and yes, they were not bad as far as hunting partners went. But there was a reason she hunted alone. She didn’t like people in her space. She knew that as soon as they figured out that she was a 15-year-old orphan, they would ship her off somewhere, ‘for her own good’. It had happened way too many times before for her to trust anyone, no matter how nice they seemed. She had been put into foster care three times on the behest of ‘concerned adults’ before. The homes were so bad that she preferred the streets and ran away the first chance she got. She had been on her own since she was 11 and had practically raised herself even before that. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what was best for her.

“Sorry boys, I prefer to hunt alone. Don’t get your hopes up for another team-up anytime soon,” she said before Sam could open his mouth again.

Dean’s jaw ticked but she could see him forcing the tension out, in hopes of reasoning with her. He knew that telling her what to do wouldn’t work, he had noticed that she had problems with authority.

“Look, we have this friend. She’s a sheriff and she’s got two other girls living with her who are either hunters or aware of the life. If you want –”

Dean knew that they had messed up. Y/N’s face grew hard as she listened to Sam talk about Jody and the girls. Yes, they had called her and asked her if she would be willing to take in another stray but Jody had warned them that Y/N didn’t sound like someone who wanted a normal life. Claire had wanted to hunt but she had also wanted a family. Alex had wanted to get out of the life. Both of them had wanted to be there.

He could see that they were losing her. He didn’t understand why he felt so strongly about helping her, but he panicked at the thought of her hunting alone out there. So, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind – “You could hunt with us!”

Sam paused mid-sentence, looking at his brother incredulously. That was not what they had agreed on. While his brother clearly felt more strongly about helping her, Sam himself had grown quite fond of Y/N and wanted her to be safe. But he also knew that they had too much on their plate to add her into the mix. She’s just be in more danger anyway. They were in the middle of dealing with the darkness – there was no way bringing Y/N into their life would end well. After the way they lost Charlie, Dean should have been the first one to realize that.

Y/N’s face dropped the hard stare it was featuring only to be replaced by a look of surprise. Hunting with the Winchesters was something aspiring hunters dreamed off. They were the big leagues, where the real action was. She’d heard rumors about their dalliances with angels and prophets and monsters from purgatory. So, of course she was surprised when they offered her a chance to play with the big boys. But she knew she couldn’t take them up on it. Specially since Sam didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it either. Which stung – but she understood.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m good. You guys probably have a lot to deal with anyway if Sam’s face is any indication. I don’t want to be a problem. I’ll get out of your hair and maybe we can team up again if you happen to be on the same case as me.” Y/N didn’t want to get close to people. They just ended up abandoning you sooner or later.

Sam backtracked guiltily, assuring her that they wanted her with them. He didn’t want her in danger but he didn’t want her to feel unwanted either. There was just something about her that made both brothers want to protect her.

“You won’t be,” Dean said firmly. “You’re clearly a good hunter. You figured out the case before us and you were right. You could use some tactical training and work on your combat a little bit. From where I’m standing, you don’t have anyone to teach you either. We can help –”

“You’re telling me you have time to take in a rookie hunter in the middle of dealing with your apocalypse of the year?” she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

Sam remained silent, a spectator to the back and forth between his brother and Y/N. He wanted her to come with them. He just didn’t want her to end up dead like every other person they cared about.

Dean switched tactics when enticing her with training didn’t work.

“What about living arrangements? We have a pretty sweet set up in Kansas. It’s like a bat cave. You’d like it there.”

“I manage just fine in motels,” she fibbed just a little bit. Even with fake IDs and fake credit cards, she sometimes had a hard time convincing motels to give her a room. She’d spent more nights in the cold streets than she cared to admit, but it was all just a part of being a hunter and she accepted that. Even the rooms she did get were dingy at best, but she didn’t want their charity.

“Look kid, I know how it works. You can’t lie to me.” She looked away at that.

“What about family? You have anyone we can at-least get you back to?” Dean had just about admitted defeat at this point. Even Sam looked dejected and he hadn’t even exactly wanted her with them in the first place.

At his statement, she jerked, her whole body flinching at the mention of family. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by either brother.

“Y/N? You alright?” Sam asked when she didn’t say anything for a minute.

“No. No family,” she ignored Sam. “I never knew my father, all my mother said about him was that he was a hunter too. I always assumed he died on the job.”

She was fidgeting with her rings. She did that when she was nervous or uncomfortable, they’d learned.

“What about your mother?” Sam dared to ask softly.

“Dead.” Y/N’s voice was hard which surprised Sam. In the time they’d spent together, she had never seemed cold, but she did right now.

“Killed by a werewolf when I was 11,” she continued in that same emotionless voice, “I’ve been on my own ever since.”

She didn’t ever share anything about her life with other hunters and the fact that she told them this perplexed her, but she couldn’t ignore Sam’s puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry kiddo,” Sam said, empathy practically oozing from his voice, “We know what it’s like losing a mother young. It doesn’t get easier.”

“What was her name?” Sam said after a brief pause.

She was silent for a long time. She hadn’t said her name out loud in almost 5 years.

“Sandra,” She finally said softly, the tiniest hint of emotion in her voice. “Sandra L/N.”

Dean froze.

He knew that name.

Chapter 3

TAGS:  @vicmc624​ @buttercookiemachoman​ @link--in--bio

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[dwaynepride]

Some Bad Advice

Summary: “i like seeing you smile.”  for jimmy Palmer please :) he has the best smile / Jimmy desperately wants to impress you. And his plan backfires; or does it?

Words: 2,421

Warnings: None

Tags: @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

“The leg bone's connected to the knee bone, The knee bone's connected to the thigh bone, The thigh bone's connected to the hip bone, Now shake dem skeleton bones!”

Jimmy's light tune rings out in a silent autopsy, the only light coming from the lamp above so he could focus on the work.

Bones. So many bones. Enough for two people, at least. And with Dr. Mallard away, it'll only take longer to separate them all and determine a cause of death.

The daunting amount of work doesn't put a damper on Jimmy, though. He continues to hum the bone song under his breath as he carefully places a finger bone at the end of a radius stub. That particular song wasn't all too medically accurate, but still fun to sing along to when it was just him in a big empty room.

Though, Jimmy's tune is cut short when he hears the doors to autopsy hiss open. He breathes out a little, eyes rolling good-naturedly. "More bones?" He asks, meaning to joke around in light of the heavy case.

But when his head pricks up to greet the visitor, Jimmy's smile falters just a bit. The easy comfort that came with singing to himself and his bones disappear when he meets your amused gaze. "Thankfully not. It looks like you have your work cut out for you."

He blinks once before realizing he was supposed to smile and reply. “Uh, yeah! It’s just a skeleton, so it really shouldn’t be too hard to organize what goes where. But there’s just a lot of bones, you know?” Jimmy’s rambling again, and you’re just too polite to cut him off, like Gibbs or DiNozzo would’ve done.

So he shuts him mouth and puts on a big smile. And despite the accidental rambling, you’re smiling back. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting, but Gibbs wanted me to find out if you know anything about a cause of death yet.”

Jimmy’s shoulders slouch a little, eyes flickering to the autopsy table with dissatisfaction. “Nothing yet. Some of the victim’s ribs seem to have little knicks, which could suggest a stabbing.”

And there it is; that adorable little quirk in your eyebrows when you’re being serious. It squeezes his chest all tight, and Jimmy is thankful that you’re too busy studying the half-done skeleton to notice his staring. Well, not staring. He’s definitely not staring like some creep. But there was definitely something different about you today. Maybe a new way you styled your hair? Or-

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

You’re looking at him again, the serious expression gone in exchange for a wide, amused grin. Jimmy clears his throat as his cheeks warm up. “I said that you’re doing a great job. With all the bones and stuff.” You repeat, motioning out to the table.

A compliment. That doesn’t help Jimmy’s fluster, at all. “Uh, thanks. I’m glad someone appreciates the work.” He replies with a single shrug of his shoulder. And hey, Jimmy seems to recognize that he’s in a good light. You were impressed with his work, so far. And if you had given that same compliment to somebody like Tony, he would completely milk it.

And Tony never had any problems picking up dates, right?

“Not that it’s a lot of work, y’know. I know where every single bone in the human body goes, so it really shouldn’t take me too much longer.” A bit of a bluff, but your smile was widening, just a bit. So he continues. “I’ll keep working for the answers until I’m bone-tired.”

The pun slipped out before Jimmy could stop it. His forcibly-cocky demeanor deflated once you erupted with laughter, head shaking while you make for the exit. “Thank you, Jimmy. Keep me updated?” You asked him over your shoulder.

And Jimmy wasn’t completely sure what you were thanking him for; the update, or such a lame joke. Either way, he puts on a friendly smile and waves his hand. “Sure thing!” He manages to reply before you’re out the door.

The memory of your smile and laughter sticks with him for the next couple hours, and Jimmy decides that his stupid pun was good enough.

--

Having been stuck in autopsy all day, focused so closely on his bone puzzle, Jimmy had almost forgotten how busy and bustling the upper floors can get. He almost bumped into somebody on the way out the elevator. Barely had time to throw an apology over his shoulder before the doors closed.

He should go and get some lunch. Take a walk outside for his break so he’ll be renewed for his work. But Jimmy seemed to be on a mission as he entered the bigger officeplace. Eyes immediately scanning the tops of heads in the bullpen of his team.

It seemed like some sort of minor miracle that Tony was there and you weren’t. Better still, the other desks were empty. Jimmy couldn’t ask for a better time to talk to the field agent.

Tony knew he was there without even looking up. “You got some news for me, Palmer?” He asks, eyes still focused on a file he was reading.

His question puts Jimmy to a stop, mouth dropping open as he struggled to answer. Was it unprofessional to put his work on hold for a piece of advice? “Well, n-no. Not yet.” Jimmy manages to answer.

“Then why has the little Autopsy Gremlin strayed out of his cave?” Finally, DiNozzo lifts his head and smiles. Though, his amusement is most definitely at Jimmy’s expense.

He sighs a little, letting his eyes dart around the office before coming closer to Tony’s desk. Leaning in, as if telling him a secret. “I need help with something, and I think you’re the only person who can help. You date a lot, right?”

Suddenly, Tony’s eyes brighten with interest. He immediately nods his head. “I do.” The agent answered, reclining back in his seat with an easy smile. “You need help from the Love Guru, huh? Who are you after?”

Jimmy hesitates at giving up your name. Wonders for a brief second if it would be worth it before his eyes avert away. “Y/N. I need to know how to...I don’t know, impress them? Make them like me? And since you two are on the same team...”

“You came to the right place, Palmer.” DiNozzo immediately rises to his feet, sending Jimmy to stand straight up with wide eyes. “We’ve been working together for years; as an experienced cop and a good friend, I know exactly what you gotta do.”

--

Jimmy’s gut had been tight with anxiety since his talk with DiNozzo. He repeated the advice he got from the field agent over and over in his head, reciting it like a mantra as he continued his work on the tables of bones. Would it really work? It had to, right? Tony never has any problems in the romantic department, so Jimmy had to trust the advice. It will work.

And he finally got the chance to find out when you entered autopsy with Gibbs. Jimmy straightened up from his awkward pose over the bones, almost failing to hold back a grin on his face. Don’t act so eager when they come in the room, DiNozzo said. Act like you don’t care one way or the other.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Jimmy says, his tone adopting an uncharacteristic neutrality. A shrug followed it. “Gibbs.”

He looks away before seeing your slight frown. But Gibbs doesn’t seem to care too much about Jimmy’s change of character. “You find anything out yet?” He asks, approaching the table.

Jimmy’s stomach is still fluttering around, but he lets out a hum, as if thinking of an answer. “Somethin’ in particular you want?” He asks, looking back up. His eyes briefly glance to you, wanting to know if his new aloof trick was working. But the eye contact doesn’t last a single second before Jimmy looks to Gibbs.

And the expression that the Marine wears chips away at his confidence in the act. “Yeah. A cause of death.” Gibbs barks out, wearing a very visible frown.

For a slight moment, Jimmy recoils back, his feet shifting as he looks down at the bones laid across the table. “Uh, there’s some knicks in the bones.” He reports. His words were a little shaky, but then Jimmy’s eyes rise to yours. And when your head tilts, he breathes in to push down his anxiety. It had to be working, right? Jimmy was doing exactly what Tony said. “I guess Abby can match them to a knife or something. That’s not really my job, you know?”

The image of your eyebrows furrowing lasts just a moment before Jimmy sees movement out of the corner of his eye. Gibbs is approaching like a predator, and Jimmy instantly feels small when his voice booms out. “Your job is to find cause of death. Something definitive. Do your damn job, Palmer!”

Jimmy’s eyes avert down, and he feels Gibbs’ stare on the side of his head before the Marine turns and stalks toward the door. He snaps out your name to follow, and while Jimmy can feel your eyes on him, he doesn’t look up.

He’s thankful when the doors close behind you, leaving him alone with the skeletons who are probably laughing at him.

--

Autopsy had been silent and mostly empty since the humiliating incident from earlier. And was that a good thing? Possibly. Jimmy was sure that news has spread of his abysmal attempt at getting you to like him. The embarrassment of Gibbs yelling at him, rightfully telling him to do his job.

On the other hand, Jimmy hated the silence. The scene kept replaying in his head, over and over and making it difficult to concentrate. In the end, he was able to determine a cause of death for one of their victims. Somehow, Jimmy figured that Dr. Mallard would’ve been able to do it much faster and without hassle.

What an awful day it’s been. Jimmy sighs as he pushes the final skeleton into the locker and closes it, letting the dead sleep until tomorrow. He turns to make the journey across autopsy, eager to get out of his scrubs and just go home.

That is, until the doors slide open, and Jimmy’s attention is dragged away from the tile floor. The sight of you padding carefully into autopsy makes him freeze, eyes growing wide in surprise. “Uh, hey.” He utters, wincing a little at the higher pitch of his voice. Surely a far cry from how he was this afternoon.

But you smile anyway. That sweet little smile that always seems to make Jimmy feel better on the worst of days. Even now, the sight of it lightens the weight of a bad day. “Hey, Jimmy. I came by to check to you.”

“Check on me?” He repeats, head giving a little tilt. You were worried about him?

“Yeah. You weren’t really acting like yourself earlier. And then after Gibbs, well, I know how scary he can be when he’s mad.” You continue, taking a couple steps closer.

Jimmy doesn’t reply right away. He’s touched at your sympathy; touched that you were so worried that you came down here to make sure he was okay. And suddenly, he decides that DiNozzo’s plan is what caused all this. A dumb piece of advice that Jimmy wishes he hadn’t listened to.

So instead, he nods his head. “Yeah, I was a little bummed out over making him so mad earlier. But that’s not the whole reason why today’s been a bust.” He says. Jimmy watches your head tilt, eyes both patient and curious, so he continues. And this time, he’s going to be honest.

Jimmy feels himself blush uncomfortably as his eyes avert. “I, uh- I talked to DiNozzo earlier today. I asked him for some advice.”

You give an amused snort. “Well, there’s your problem. Advice on what?”

“On how to get you to like me.”

That was as honest as he could be. Part of Jimmy wished he hadn’t been so blunt, but after today, he didn’t want to skirt around his feelings anymore. Though, his eyes are still pointed to the floor as he continues. “I mean, he’s usually really good at that kinda stuff. And plus, you two work so close together. So, I figured if there was someone who could help me impress you, it would be him.”

Saying it out loud somehow made his plan sound more pathetic than it did in his head. You’d surely think it was creepy; going behind your back to your friends and trying to figure out how to woo you-

“You didn’t have to do all that, Jimmy.”

He blinks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion before finally looking up. You’re still wearing that soft smile, with no trace of disgust to be found. Honestly, it shocks the hell out of him. “What?” Jimmy says dumbly.

You huff in laughter, shrugging. And if he didn’t know you any better, Jimmy could swear you looked embarrassed. “I mean, Tony’s not my type. He’s a good friend, but anything he told you to do wouldn’t have worked.” You explain. And then your own eyes avert. “I like you how you are. Your cheesy jokes. How much you love your job.” There’s a pause before you meet his eyes again, and Jimmy had to remember to blink. “And I like seeing you smile, so I’m not a fan of that whole aloof act.”

There’s a bit of silence while Jimmy tries to think of a response. Had he fallen asleep without remembering? This had to be some kind of crazy dream. Though, as soon as that possibility popped into his mind, Jimmy knew it wasn’t true. Because his heart was beating way too hard to be any kind of dream.

He finally smiles, mirroring yours before he exhales in relief. “Do you want to get some coffee?” He asks, and then realizes that maybe the question was too blunt. Jimmy backpedals instantly. “I mean, I don’t think it’s too late for coffee. And if you’re too tired, that’s fine-”

“Really? I thought after today, you’d be the one who was bone-tired.” You cut him off with a grin.

It takes a moment for Jimmy to realize why you were smiling so hard. And the melancholic mood that’s taken hold of autopsy for the last few hours is replaced by laughter.