#mike franks fanfiction

[garbinge]

THE ONES THAT HAUNT YOU

Mike Franks x F!Reader // Leroy Jethro Gibbs & F!Reader // Word Count: 5.6k Summary: When cases get personal, things get messy. After getting put as lead on a case that's personal to Mike, the two of you argue at work. As Gibbs walks in on the tail end of the fight, the two of you spark up a friendship. When you get home, Mike is waiting for you, tail between his legs ready to make up for the things he said and open up about the past... just in time for your past to come knocking. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. SMUT. Angst. Fighting. Yelling/Raising Voices. Mike being a little mean in the beginning but makes up for it later. Canon-level case violence/death/murder. Mental Illness/manic episode. A/N: This is pure Franks brain rot. I have nothing else to say. More from this universe

“You’re being an asshole.” 

You were sitting at your desk, arms resting on the edge of it because most of the surface was covered by folders and papers. There probably had to be like 3 empty coffee cups to accompany the one cold one that you would still occasionally sip from. Mike was standing on the opposite side of your desk, his hands resting on his hips as you raised your voice to argue with him. 

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” Now one of his hands was pointing to his chest, the sarcastic smirk tugging at his mouth as he spoke. His eyes turned to the open door frame where likely some agents still were. He was thinking of his next words, if they were worth saying or if someone was in ear shot.

It was late, both of your teams were either home by now or taking a breather from their paperwork in the break room. It was just you two in the bullpen, and when he realized that, he let the words fly from his mouth after a quick head shake. “If I’m so much of an asshole, why the hell you with me, huh?” 

“Something I’m asking myself at the moment.” Your response came back quick, not needing to think of something smart to say, it already lived at the tip of your tongue. That was one thing you and Franks did well. Argue. 

“In that case you should leave.” His reply was delivered just as fast. Eyebrows raised and the pissed look on his face growing as the seconds passed, all while his hands went back resting on his hips. 

“You’re at my desk.” It was at that moment that you placed your hands palm side down over the mess. Internally you were flinching, you hated when things got like this, when they got messy. But the irony in it was you’d hate it so much it’d pretty much become a constant.

“I came over here because I had a shit fucking day and needed to blow off some steam, figured you’d like to join me, not to get shit thrown in my face.” His voice was louder now, it was unlikely someone heard what he said, but they’d probably heard him raising his voice. Lucky for you, that wasn’t cause for alarm around here. Franks was always raising his voice. 

“You forget that I have the same fucking days as you? I sit right across from you,” you pointed to the desk 6 feet in front of yours. “I get heavy caseloads, the same late nights, and I deal with all of that on top of your annoying ass attitude.” Your face twisted at that, turning to look at your work, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone but that was wishful thinking.

“I–“

You didn’t let him even start the sentence before you slammed your hands against the desk in an attempt to get him to stop. “And if all you’re here for is to blow off steam, join a fuckin’ gym, Franks. i’m not a fuckin’ game, I have feelings that I don’t just shove to the back of my brain the minute they pop up.” It was a direct shot at him and by the look on his face, he knew it. 

“We really doing this?” That first question felt genuine despite the slight sarcasm in his voice. It was almost pleading, a desperate attempt to stop your arguing. But when you couldn’t hide the attitude on your face, all that went out the window. “You wanna do this?” 

“Won’t be the first time I danced with the devil, Franks.” Another shot. It’s what you’d call your, well, whatever this was. Dancing with the devil. You had a think for reckless behavior. For mess. No matter how much you’d vocalize that you hated it. 

It became a joke. Everytime you’d knock on his door, you’d smile and tell him you were there to dance with the devil. 

—-

One day you literally did it. 2AM in his kitchen, you both were working the same case, both his team and yours were assigned on it, an all hands on deck situation. When you relieved your teams, both of you went back to Mike’s place and made a work station out of his dining room table. When you retreated to grab another cup of coffee from his kitchen, you felt him grab your hand and twirl you around. There was no music, just the sounds of your own laughs and footsteps on the kitchen tile. You rested your head against his shoulder, he began humming a song lightly as the two of you fell into a rhythm of swaying. 

“We aren’t going to solve it tonight.” His voice was soft as he spoke in your ear. 

“We’re close. I feel it.” You also felt the heaviness in your eyes as you fought the sleep coming over you. 

You felt the vibration of his chuckle in your body, the light peck of his lips against your head, slightly touching your forehead a bit. “You’re stubborn.” 

“I just need to find whoever did this.” You brought your arms up tighter around his back. 

He adjusted his arm around your shoulders, now hugging you instead of using your hand to guide you in a slow pace. “This case is different for you, I can tell.” 

“It’s personal. The first victim–” you closed your eyes, you were able to hear Mike’s heart thumping, “she was a friend. Jessica. My brother’s girlfriend.” 

“And Wheeler let you on the case?” Even with your eyes closed and looking in a completely different direction, you could feel the way his brows were furrowed into one another. This was new information to him, but he deserved to know, you just had to tell him at your own pace. 

“We’re short staffed, Wheeler would make me work my own murder case.” It was a joke, but it was true, this was all hands on deck because there were massive gaps in NIS right now. 

“Now you bite your tongue.” He was pulling out of your hug, his feet stopped swaying to look at you, his brows still furrowed. 

“Why would I do that when I got you to do it for me.” Your lips turned to a smirk. 

His face lightened up for just a quick second before he was leaning down and dropping a kiss to your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip and pulling it out just slightly before releasing it and looking down at you. 

“You’re dancin’ with the devil, you know that?” He mumbled against your mouth. 

“Havin’ a damn good time doin’ it, too.” You placed a light kiss on his mouth since it was still centimeters away from yours. 

“And if Wheeler finds out?” Now his brows lifted, real curious towards your response. 

“Didn’t see anything about dancing with the devil in the handbook.” You shrugged and brought Mike back in close to you, moving your feet to start leading the both of you in a sway again. 

“Wouldn’t know, I never read the damn thing.” He chuckled, grabbing you right back and falling back into the motion. 

The two of you comfortably fell into a silence, just rocking back and forth, now to the hum of the fridge and the light under the microwave. It was probably 30 minutes of this, before you tapped his chest and looked up at him. Both of you had dark bags under your eyes, but sleep wasn’t going to be next on the list. There was still too much to sift through.

“If Wheeler finds out it won’t matter.” Now you were turning to grab your luke warm coffee, pouring a shit ton of sugar in it and stirring it around although there wasn’t much heat left in the coffee to dissolve it as quickly. 

“And why’s that?” Mike had leaned back on the small bistro table in his kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Because we’re understaffed, he can’t afford to fire us for misconduct.” You smirked and turned around, bringing the mug up to your mouth to take a sip. 

Mike laughed at that and shook his head. “If he does say anything, I’ll bring up that dancing with the devil isn’t in the handbook.” 

You were walking past him, back to the kitchen table. “Mm, should be in the training, though.” 

—-

“You’re emotional. You’re immature, you run into shit without thinking first.” He began listing things off. 

“Sounds like you’re talking about yourself.” You leaned back in your chair now, your arms crossed, wondering where this argument was going to go. 

“I learn from the best, baby.” Despite the smile on his face, he was being cruel. Picking at whatever he could to get under your skin. 

It was then that footsteps entered the bullpen, neither of you were looking at who just walked in, your eyes were glued on eachother, the anger and frustration practically burning holes in your faces. 

“Get the fuck out.” You spoke it at a normal tone, but your teeth were gritted and your face was tight. 

“Hey—” He was trying to backpedal now, you could see it in that last second of him staring at you, the flinch in his right eye that said everything he never would. 

“Get the fuck out.” You repeated it, this time pushing off from leaning back in your office chair. 

Franks nodded briefly, like he was taking an order from you and was out the entrance closest to your desk in seconds. 

You knew it was Gibbs who had walked into the bullpen, without bothering to even look in that direction. He spent as much time as possible here, burying himself in the work. 

“The hell was that?” He was walking towards his desk, but took the extra steps to make it closer to yours, dropping a cup of hot coffee down in one of the only clear spots left on your desk. 

“That was Franks doing what he does best.” Your eyes looked over at the coffee cup and nodded in appreciation before bringing it to the permanent spot in your hand as you stared down at the photos you had just removed from a folder once Franks left. 

“Y–“ Gibbs began to speak but you cut him off.

“Gibbs. I want you to think very carefully before you speak.” 

He nodded and moved swiftly to his desk to work. It was just you two, the main overhead lights were off since it was well past 10PM now, the only lights being the desk lamps from yours and Gibbs’s desk. You preferred it that way, it made everything around you disappear aside from the files in front of you. 

Mary Jo had said goodbye about an hour ago, dropping one more folder on your desk based on a request you had asked her earlier in the day. Lala had been in the breakroom with Strickland and had peaked in to say goodbye, too. Randy had gone home at end of day because his kid had a sports game and you had told your team to head home around 7 because you needed to take in this new case alone.. 

You wiped your hands across your face before taking the last sip of coffee. This cup, you decided to throw get up and throw out, simply because there just wasn’t any room to store it on your desk anymore. 

“i know you two are together.” Gibbs’s voice caused your eyes to move towards his, debating what you wanted to say to him, soaking in his words.

“Doesn’t surprise me.” You nodded,”We’re sneaking around investigators, would be a bit alarming if someone didn’t realize.” 

Gibbs did his best job at a knowing smile. “What he do?”

That got you to smile, his immediate instinct was to blame Franks.

“I love your faith in me probie.” You walked over to lean on the side of your desk, your arms crossing along with one leg over the other as you stared at him. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” He let out a small chuckle, “plus, I know what that looks like.” 

You looked up at him with sorrowful eyes, it wasn’t a secret that Gibbs had recently lost his wife.  With your hands dropping to grip the edge of your desk, you let out a large exhale.

“If I wasn’t a part of NIS, things would be different. We run things so differently, things I do for my team compared to how he runs his. We work differently. We think differently.  Sometimes I think if I had met Franks in some other life he’d actually care about me.” 

“He cares.” Gibbs answered so quickly, and while you knew that was true, you also knew that with the lives you and Franks had, caring wasn’t always enough. 

“I got put on a cold case.” The sentence wasn’t enough to explain what had caused the tension between you two, but it was something. 

“And he’s pissed about that?” Gibbs wasn’t on your team, but you were aware that he didn’t talk much, so the fact he was open to this conversation with you was intriguing to say the least. 

“He was the lead agent on it 7 years ago.” There it was, the clarity was starting to come to light.

“Ah.” Gibbs understood now. 

“They wanted a new pair of eyes. The case officially went cold the week I started at NIS–it was Mike’s first case as a Supervisory Special Agent– It’s not lost on me the weight of that. Wheeler brought us both to his office, mentioned that Strickland had found new evidence when going over old files and the case was opening back up. It honestly is such a big case I figured both our teams were going to divide and conquer but turns out Wheeler just wanted me to take a look tonight before assigning out my team on it tomorrow. Told Franks to be available to me.” 

“You asked him something and he snapped.” Gibbs put the pieces together, but he was wrong.

Shaking your head you tilted your head. “I wasn’t ready to bring him in yet and he didn't like that.” 

Gibbs nodded. 

“I needed to marinate on it, take in everything without his perspective skewing mine. It’s how I work.” You shook your head, frustration tensing on your shoulders. “Franks knows how I am. Knows I do things on my timeline. I need a fuckin’ minute to check my gut.” 

That got Gibbs attention. “He teach you that? To trust your gut?” The question was inquisitive, like he was curious to instructions on how he best could trust his. 

That got you to laugh, blowing the air out of your mouth you kicked off your desk and looked down at the papers. “He got that from me.” 

Gibbs smirked at that too, he wanted to ask more but he let it be and stood up, making his way over to yout desk to take in the files. “That what you've been doin all night?” 

You nodded, a million thoughts going through your head. 

“And?” That was the question asked where he hoped he’d learn more about trusting your gut, but unfortunately, your gut was coming up short on this one. 

“And I need to ask Franks a god damn question.” You opened your notebook to a long list of notes. “or 20.” 

“They turn the coffee machine off at 11.” Gibbs said, looking at your empties. 

“I’m gonna head out. Change of scenery will do me good.” You grabbed your desk phone and started to press 0 for an operator. “Cab, NIS to Cherry Grove.” As you waited for them to respond you were piling all your work into a pile. “Fuck you mean 35 dollars?” Dropping the papers you grabbed the phone that was originally tucked between your ear and shoulder as if getting the speaker closer to your ear would make the answer change. 

“Surge rates? It’s 1:30AM?!” You slammed the phone down, definitely more angrily than you needed it to be but you were just taking out all the pent up emotion from earlier. 

“C’mon. I’ll drive you.” Gibbs was staring at you, bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Thanks for driving me, Franks drove me in this morning.” You never minded keeping your relationship with Mike secret, but there was something freeing about being so open about it to Gibbs. 

“How do you know when to trust your gut?” The question felt out of left field. It echoed in the cabin of his truck. 

“You always trust your gut, Gunny.” You smirked over at him before pointing in the direction he needed to turn to get on your street. “Right here.” You pointed to the only house with the porch light on. 

As he pulled up against the curb, you both saw Mike sitting on your porch, his elbows leaning on his knees. 

Gibbs didn’t say it, but you knew what he was thinking. See, he cares. 

“I know he cares. He cornered Artie in the men’s bathroom when he heard him tell Roger I was a diversity promotion.” You remembered Artie coming up to you to apologize, it wasn’t sincere, but there was fear behind it. It was likely that Franks threatened him if he didn’t say something to you. 

“Make him sweat it a little bit.” The comment earned you to snap your head towards Gibbs who was trying to hide a smile. 

“Did we just become friends, Gunny?” He wasn’t on your team, so while he was technically below you in rank, there was a little more leeway in how you two could speak to eachother, share things. 

“If we did, you can call me Jethro.” 

That got you to smile back at him with a nod. “You got it, Gunny. See you tomorrow.” 

You had full intentions to make it a point not to share anything on you and Franks but after the little conversation that went on, you knew it wasn’t necessary. 

As you walked up to your house, you stepped right past Mike, not acknowledging him, just placing your key in the door. Franks didn’t look up at you, just kept his elbows resting on his knees, his head looking down at the ground. Gibbs was still parked on the curb, waiting for you to unlock your door. He was well are that with Franks presence he didn’t need to make sure you got in okay, but you’d have to pry chivalry out of Gibbs cold dead hands. 

As you pushed the door open, you spoke over your shoulder. “You comin’ in?” 

Franks was standing up and as you waved him inside, he walked past you into your home, head still down like a sad puppy. Turning to the truck, you offered a quick wave to which Gibbs lifted two fingers in a wave himself, and then you stepped inside your home. 

You kicked your shoes off next to Mike’s, then followed your daily routine of getting home. Placing your bag on the hooks, dropping your badge on the entry table, locking your gun in the safe. Pouring yourself a glass of wine. 

This time though, you cracked open a beer to give to Franks who was sitting at your kitchen table. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” Placing the beer down, you brought your glass to your lips as you retreated to the bathroom. The hot water steamed the room up, it made the condensation on your wine glass drip even more than before as it sat on the soap dish in the shower. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how much do you hate me?” His drawl didn’t scare you, you knew he’d pop in, it’s why you left the door open. 

“8.5” You said as the water trickled down your back, grabbing the wine to take a sip from it. 

“Damn.” He clearly wasn’t expecting it that high. 

“It’s been higher.” You tried to offer some solace. 

“It’s been lower.” Now the shower curtain was being pulled back slightly. His eyes met yours which were looking over at him as you drank the rest of the glass. “Refill?” He held up the bottle and you tipped your glass so he could fill it up. “You wanna dance with the devil?” Putting the cork back in the bottle, he didn’t take his eyes off you. 

“The water’s hot, the way you hate it.” With a smile, the words Gibbs had spoken to you right before you got out of the car were sitting in your head. Make him sweat it a little bit. 

“I was an asshole.”  Those words took you by surprise. Mike never apologized, but he found ways to dance around them with you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You placed the glass back down on the soap dish and tilted your head back into the stream of water. 

“I shouldn’t have been an asshole.” 

With that, you sighed. “Get in.” 

It didn’t take him long to be unclothed and standing inside the tub with you, he was quick to wrap his arms around you, your bodies pressed against each other. He placed a quick kiss to your lips, it was his way of reading where you were, if you were going to pull away, if you melted into the kiss, felt distant. 

As he pulled away, he moved his hand to grip your face, wiping the streams of mascara off your face before leaning in and kissing you again, this time longer and even though he opened his mouth slightly, he didn’t slip his tongue into your mouth, he wasn’t trying to seduce you, he was just trying to make it up to you. 

He leaned to get the shampoo and started to lather the product in his hands before rubbing it on your scalp. You wished it didn’t feel as good as it did, you let out a couple moans as his fingers massaged your scalp. 

“Turn around.” His gruff voice sent a chill down your spine despite the scalding hot water that was currently trickling down it. Turning so now your front was in the water stream, you tilted your head back as he continued to massage your head, his hands then moving down to your shoulders. Each movement moving your back closer against him. You could feel him hard against you, but he did nothing to remedy it, just focused on the suds above your shoulders. “Turn and rinse.” He spoke again and you obliged, washing the shampoo out of your hair. 

The process repeated with conditioner, and then the soap along your body. By the time your shower was done, your muscles were more relaxed than they had ever been. 

“Go, dry up. I’ll be just a minute.” He was turning to let you step out of the shower, your hand in his as you stepped on the bath mat and grabbed your towel. Closing the curtain you heard the water temperature knob squeak, the noise it always made when the water turned colder. You couldn’t help but smile, you always burned your skin in the shower and Franks hated it. Instead of retreating to your bedroom, you plopped up on the sink, waiting for him to finish up. 

As the curtain opened, you let your towel start to fall down, part of your skin starting to peek through as it did. Mike caught your eye and then let his fall down to your body before looking back up at you, searching your face to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding the context. 

You tilted your head slightly, telling him to come closer to you with no words at all. He stepped forward, his body covered in droplets still, his hair dripping wet but still twirled in those curls that your fingers would get tangled in. His arms rested on the edges of the sink, closing you in between them. Wrapping your legs around him was all the invitation he needed, his face fell immediately into the crook of your neck, sucking the sensitive area of skin there before tracing it with his tongue. While your head fell back, giving him more area to work with, you wrapped one hand around his shoulders and the other fell down to touch him. You pumped his member right against your entrance, the tip just ever so slightly touching you. That mixed with the work Mike was doing on your neck, you could feel yourself get wetter. 

You moved slightly, leaning back against the mirror and pushed your chest out, begging Mike to put your breasts in his mouth and he obliged without any confusion in your body language. 

You let out a loud moan, your hands cupping his face as he sucked on your nipple, bringing your hand into his hair and gripping at those curls tightly. 

Not wanting to wait another second, you grabbed him and began pumping again, this time you could feel he had his own wetness at the tip and you couldn’t help but use his cock to rub it against your clit before positioning it at your entrance, letting it go in just slightly. 

“More.” You spoke into his ear and he didn’t need you to say it twice. He pushed inside you and while you let your head fall back against the mirror again, his fell on your shoulder. Both of you letting out a moan. He stayed there for a few seconds before slowing moving out and pumping back in you, each movement earning a noise from you that he gladly moved to catch in his own mouth. 

He kissed you with passion, they were hard, like his thrusts as they began to speed up. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good.” The words were whispered as your eyes practically rolled back in your head. 

“Think that’s my line, sweetheart.” He chuckled, looking down as he watched himself enter in and out of you, his tongue swiping around his lip like he was hungry for more. 

Widening your legs apart, you brought them from wrapped around his waist to snug parallel against his sides, he used his hands to hold them there as he continued to pump inside you, his grunts making you more wet if that was even possible. Moving one hand to touch your clit, you practically cried out from the tender touch of your own hand. Mike was quick to readjust, dropping his hands from your legs and using one hand to lay on top of yours, his polite way of telling you he’d gladly rub your clit for you and his other hand resting on the mirror behind you for balance. 

You kept your legs where they were, your knees pressing tightly into his side just made him go faster. 

“You look fuckin’ perfect.” You thought he was looking down at you but his eyes were staring right at your face. 

You brought your hand back up to his face, cupping it tightly as his hips grinded. The hand that was resting on the mirror moved to readjust you slightly, just sliding you down ever so slightly to change the angle he was fucking you at and bless him for it because it was then that you cried out as his cock hit that spot that made you come undone with the matching pressure of his fingers swirling on your clit. 

As you reached your climax, the tightening around his cock caused him to come undone. Both of you moaning and grunting before you let your chests rise and fall to catch your breath. He pulled out of you. Your hand still on his face as he did so he brought his own up to hold it there tighter, pressing a light kiss to the inside of your wrist before helping you off the sink. Every muscle he had just massaged in the shower had just tightened up from being fucked on the bathroom sink but it was incredibly worth it, and maybe you could use it as an excuse for this to happen again. 

He bent down to pick the towel up for you, wrapping it around you and using the bottom hem to clean up his mess that was dripping down your leg. Mike grabbed a towel of his own, wrapping it around his waist while you both retreated to the bedroom. He had a drawer with some things in it, so while you were at the vanity putting on your lotion, he was grabbing a shirt for you, and something for him to cover up. The large NIS long sleeve was being handed to you along with a pair of shorts you always wore to bed, then he moved to put his own underwear on. Pulling the cigarette pack out of his jean pockets, he then dropped those belted pants and button up shirt on the ground before picking up a lighter to his cigarette. 

“So Gibbs knows?” His voice was altered as he inhaled the cigarette smoke. 

“It’s almost like he’s a special agent.” You teased as you brought the shirt over your body. 

“So what, you two like friends now or something?” He was teasing you back. 

Smirking, you came up behind him and rested your head against his back, your arms wrapping around his abdomen. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” The words were probably in poor taste, considering he wanted to know so much about your thoughts on this case. It was why he was being such a jerk earlier. After he chuckled a bit, his body language got serious, you felt his body tense up against you.

“You remember when we were workin’ that murder case. The one where your friend was the victim.” 

It should’ve surprised you, the fact that a heavy statement like that did nothing to shake you, to make your gut twist, but it did none of that. All it did was cause your heart to stop for half a second before going back to normal. 

“That case was personal to you.” He nodded, hoping you were understanding where he was going with it, but you weren’t gonna let him not say more. “This–this case. Is personal to me.” 

“I wasn’t shutting you out.” You mumbled the sentence against his back. 

“I know.” He nodded and took a deep breath. 

“Actually have tons of questions for you. I just needed to marinate.” 

“Yea, I get that.” He nodded. “You wanna ask me your questions?” 

“No.” Now it was your turn to not say more than that. 

He nodded again and let out another deep breath. 

“But I have one I need to ask you.” You pulled your head off his back and rested your chin on it instead. “How close were you to him?” 

Him. Just the word made Mike flinch, the difference in both of you, how for you, your old personal case didn’t even cause you to tremble, but for Franks, he physically felt his body react to the question. That was the difference between these personal cases. Yours was closed. The killer was 6 feet in the ground. This case had no sign of closure in sight, and that was now your weight to carry. 

“When he was alive? Not very.”

“But after?” You knew there had to be a point for him to bring up that question. 

“When he died, I’ve never felt closer to him.” The words made him choke up a bit. “I talked to him, when I was working the case, I’d talk out loud to him like he was there with me.” He let out a laugh like he found it hard to believe himself. “He still haunts me.” 

When you saw the name in the folder, you understood entirely. It was his former team member, before he was promoted to Supervisory Special Agent on a different team. 

Just as you were about to speak, there was a knock at your door, a loud one, frantic even. 

Mike was quick to stand up straight, his jeans were on his legs in seconds, his fingers quickly fastening the buckle as he made his way to the door. 

“Stay here.” His voice was firm, he knew you were just as capable as him to deal with whoever was banging at your door at 3AM, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to deal with it himself. 

As the door swung open, his gun in hand and cigarette hanging from his mouth, his face tightened to frighten whoever was there. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Uh, sorry. I was–was looking for my sister.” The stuttering made it very clear the man was stressed, likely in a panic. 

“August?” You spoke your brother’s name, your hands grabbing Mike’s bare skin to move him over, staring almost frozen at the sight of your brother. “What happened?” 

“It’s Jessica, I can’t find her.”  And just like that, the twist in your gut came back. Your eyes closed, and you squeezed Mike’s arm before moving past him and grabbing your manic brother into your arms. 

“It’s okay, Auggie. We’ll find her.” Lie. Mike was trying to rack his brain around everything. “Go lay on the couch, I’ll make you a cup of tea.” 

Your brother hadn’t been the same since losing Jessica. It’s why you put everything on the line to take the case all those years ago. It’s why you wanted to look at this case with fresh eyes-no sway, because the minute someone planted an idea of how things went down with Jessica, you spent 12 crucial hours following that thought just for it to come up as a dead end. You should’ve followed your gut. From that day forward, you always followed your gut.

As your brother moved to the couch, his hands shaking and head nodding as he repeated your words, you turned to Mike. After you told him to go put a shirt on and put on a pot of coffee for you both, you squeezed his arm with one more thing to say.

“The cases don’t have to be cold for them to continue haunting you.”

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @shamelessturtlebeliever @babebaber (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

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[garbinge]

Oh. My. Gosh. YES. THIS was so GOOOD I'm at the edge of my seat!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously I love the mental image of him at the bar being mad, trying to hide it by drinking. I also love the added detail of the drink being something reader is allergic too. Like double down!!!! And I'm sorry the ending!!! UGH I'm SAT!!

The Way Of The World: Mike Franks x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @sweetdaytimedreams @mildly-salted 

Companion piece to:

Life Lessons - You and Mike don't play the games that regular couples do.

Count To Five (NSFW) - Mike comes home to a naked woman in his bed.

Pool House (NSFW) - You and Mike steal a moment alone at the LA Law Enforcement Conference.

The problem with secret relationships is the other men, the ones who don’t know you’re taken. They deliver drinks across the bar, try to chat you up, play a little grab ass, which Mike can not fucking abide.

And that’s just your colleagues, the men who are supposed to have your back out in the field, the one who threaten to withhold the next time you request backup because your not sucking their dicks.

“It’s the way of the world.” You tell Mike with a resignation that pains him.

“It fucking shouldn’t be.” He retorts sipping his whiskey and giving the evil eye to the fucker that’s just sent over frou frou drinks with a pineapple sticking out of it, something you are very allergic to.

This, right here, this is why the ‘life lessons’ he teaches you are so important. The world it’s geared towards men, their wants, their desires, no matter how fucked up they are. There is going to be a time when you’re stuck in a shit situation on your own and Mike needs to know you can get yourself out of it.

He doesn’t know if it’s going to be personal or professional, he just knows the odds aren’t on your side.

It happens sooner than he expects.

A month later he returns to the office after an overnight stake out with Gibbs to discover an alert has been issued across the board for information on the whereabouts of Detective Leigh Barlowe.

That’s the problem with secret relationships, Mike realises as he picks up the phone to dial your Sergeant, nobody knows to call when the love of your life disappears.

Love Mike? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[itsmeatballworld]

mine all mine.

pairing: mike franks x reader

wc: 580

a/n: no thoughts or plot, just mike franks brainrot <3 short and sweet!

Mike stumbled into the living room after drinks at Daly’s Tavern and caught you in the same spot he left you: on the couch with papers scattered across the coffee table, trying to crack an old cold case.

He paused at the entry way and rubbed his eyes like he’d seen a ghost. "Hun, you still up?"

"I can't sleep. This case is eating me alive." He planted himself next to you, pausing a second to take in the scene like he was in the field. No matter the time of day or the state of sobriety, Mike was always ready to work a crime scene.

“Still on the Sullivan disappearance?”

You nod. “I can’t get anywhere with it. It’s like the marine just vanished into thin air. No leads. No evidence. Every single possibility was disproven.”

Mike hummed, brushing his knee against yours as he leaned in closer. “Well…do what I do when it’s been a long day with no leads: put the papers down,” Mike took each stack off your lap and topped off the last bare spot on the coffee table, “and get some shut eye.”

He wasn’t wrong. You knew sleep could help clear your eyes and even cure the migraine pecking at the back of your skull. But it’s been weeks of nothing new and you were itching to find the marine.

You closed your eyes. “You know what? You’re right. I could use a shower and some sleep.” As you stretched out your legs, Mike glanced down at your lap.

“Are you gonna finish that?”

You looked down to where his hand hovered above the plate you forgot was still on your lap. He was eyeing the last untouched curly fry and quarter of a sandwich.

You grinned, pushing the paper plate towards him. “No, go ahead.” It was a moment of ‘eyes bigger than your stomach’ and you’d been contemplating eating it for fifteen minutes. “There’s half a Cuban sandwich in the fridge too.”

He hums between bites of the crispy batter. “Mhm, honey, you got my favorites.”

“Helps when we like the same things.”

Mike Franks turns to you and his soft honey brown eyes scan across your face. You knew you were tired and it definitely showed, but the way he was watching you? He looked like he wanted to hoist you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom. How he could go from business to pleasure in seconds should be studied.

He leaned back and sighed. “Baby…what would I do without you?”

“Starve?” You say playfully, trying to take a break from the case and work for a second. It was time you relaxed – even if it’s only for an hour before sunrise. He smirked and tossed the plate onto the pile of papers.

“Damn right.” Mike leaned in, wrapping one arm around your waist before he pulled and had you straddling his hips in seconds. You loved the way he wanted to be next to you, day or night, work or home.

He didn’t stop there, lifting you up as he moved off the couch. He kept you tight to his waist as he walked slowly around the living room. “You’re my girl.”

“Oh, am I?” Teasing. It was what you two were good at.

“Mhm, darlin’.” Mike’s lips grazed yours. He splayed his fingers across your backside, racking up the shirt you wore in one swift motion.

“Mine. All. Mine."

><<>><

><<>><

a/n 2.0: pls I need more of him!!! This show has me in a chokehold rn

[fictionalcraze]

Nothing..just Mike Franks being the most amazing Mentor\ Friend\ Supportor to Gibbs. Seriously the way he looks after Gibbs🥹 I have always loved their friendship and Bromance so much in the og. But origins gives even more depth and meaning to this wonderful friendship and I'm sooo here for it.

Also Kyle as Mike Franks is absolutely killing it. He is just livin' as Franks right down to even the slightest mannerisms. His acting is so good and his charisma? 🥵 I didn't think I would end up loving a character as much as I love Gibbs but Mike has been a show stealer with his incredible performance and I can't wait to see more of this duo.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 27 - Twisted

Twisted Grin:

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a ghost story, and a dark one. This is your warning to not read if you are easily frightened.

Recently, the Arlesdale Railway had expanded to a couple of new mines, including one at the end of the valley. These mines were going to be brilliant new sources of ballast for the little railway, and Frank was very pleased to have been given the job of helping to build the lines out to them. The railway line snaked its way through the countryside, and all the way to a new town.

A wry old woman watched as Frank and the gangers laid out the prefabricated track, utilising the old grading work of the Mid Sodor Railway as a guideline for where to build their new line.

“Hello!” chirped Frank cheerfully when he spotted the old woman. She blinked, and wandered closer. Frank noticed immediately that the old woman was limping, using a thick wooden walking cane to help her as she hobbled her way over, pausing to take a few breaths by a slightly rotted old bench. It had once belonged to the Mid Sodor station that had stood here, but that was long gone and the platform had become overrun with weeds.

“Hello, little engine,” the woman hummed, using her cane to help lower herself onto the bench. “You must be building the new railway.” “I am!” beamed Frank. “We’re building out to the old zinc mine beyond the village, so we can extract the ballast. We’ll also be running passenger trains out here of course, but that’s more for tourists.”

The old woman hummed, the tanned wrinkles on her face shifting slightly with every breath. “You be careful around that mine,” she eventually said. Frank blinked; he wasn’t quite sure why the old lady was warning him about the mine, but figured it must be a generic warning. Mr Duncan made them all the time when talking to Rex or Mike.

“I will!” replied Frank politely. The old woman frowned gently – not quite an annoyed look, but more… reproachful. “You think I am being old and silly – everyone ought to know to be careful around mines.” “I… actually wasn’t,” chuckled Frank earnestly. “I was thinking about how a couple of the others get similar general warnings from our controller.” The old woman hummed again, her old eyes burning with something immortal and powerful.

“That mine is haunted,” the old woman finally said. “My husband worked there before it closed – it’s not pleasant to talk about.” Now Frank was intrigued. “What happened?” he asked, before checking to see if any of the gangers were nearby – he spotted a little way away, heading off for lunch.

“The mine owned an engine – Smudger was his name. He was a terror – he wasn’t built right, they said. He was always derailing, or crashing trucks, or trying to pull dangerous pranks on the miners. He very nearly ran several over. And he always had this awful, twisted grin on his face – the engine enjoyed the terror he instilled in others. Everyone hated him, but they couldn’t get rid of him, not when he was needed by the mine. He got so bad that the Mid Sodor refused to let him onto their rails, not wanting to deal with him as his recklessness. He would ride rough and try to get the trucks to crash – and then he would arrive and come up with some awful scheme to cause mayhem. Worst of all, he would hide in the tunnel at the end of the town with only his eyes and grin showing off, waiting to scare another engine despite the dangers. Eventually, all the Mid Sodor engines bar Duke refused to deal with him.

“Then one day, things took a dark turn. Duke delivered a supply of dynamite to the mine, to help with blasting. He shunted them away carefully, picked up a few empty vans, and headed out. Smudger came over, looking for a new twisted joke to play on the men – and he found it. The mine had a new demolitions expert, whose job it was to do the blasting. Smudger waited until some miners had headed out to lay out the dynamite connected to the plunger – and then he struck. He snuck up behind the demolitions expert and screamed as loudly as he could. It was enough to spook the newcomer, who dropped the plunger in shock. The dynamite went off – and a stick of unplaced dynamite went flying at them. It hit the dynamite vans.

“The explosion was powerful enough to be felt in Arlesburgh. Smudger had blown up half the mine, and triggered a rockslide powerful enough to bring half the mine caving in. Dozens of men were trapped underground, with no way out. My husband got lucky – he’d been having tea on the other side of the mine when it happened.”

Frank was horrified – for an engine to be so reckless, callous and downright malicious as to try and cause such a thing, let alone having it succeed was mindboggling.

“That wasn’t the end though,” sighed the woman. “It’s said Smudger’s twisted spirit still roams about, running between the tunnel and the mines, torturing the poor souls unable to escape the site of their demise. Do not go up to the mines after dark.”

Frank agreed, unable to quite fully comprehend the story he’d heard. He decided to tell it to the other engines, and went to thank the old woman – only, she was gone.

It was like she’d vanished.

A little confused, Frank looked back up to see the gangers returning; had it been that long? They had really only just left, in spite of how long the story seemed to go. And yet they were back.

“That was quick!” said Frank. “What did you get?” The gangers stared at Frank, confused, but decided to humour the odd little engine. “We got pie from the nearby pub – though I wouldn’t say we were quick.” Frank didn’t say anything more, feeling very wary indeed.

The gangers made good progress over the rest of the day, reaching the mouth of the tunnel. It was long and curved, leading through a hill and into the valley where the old mine was situated. Frank instantly hated it – the mouth of the tunnel looking like a great yawning chasm, a great furious beast ready to swallow the little diesel whole. It also still had the old rails, old, rusted things that just added to the eeriness of the entire place.

“I don’t want to stick around,” admitted Frank. His driver agreed. “It seems… wrong,” the driver murmured. With the sun beginning to set, Frank hurriedly began heading back.

As he rounded the bend away from the tunnel, he could have sworn he saw a flash of a twisted grin.

“Pwah!” snorted Mike, letting off steam. “That’s a load of crock, and you know it!” Frank had told the others about his encounter with the old lady and the story she had told – as well as mentioning what he’d seen at the tunnel.

“I’m not so sure,” hummed Bert. “The Mid Sodor seems to be a hot-spot for the supernatural – remember the show they had here last summer? Those ghost-hunters who claimed they got a heap of readings.” “That was just reality TV nonsense,” sniffed Mike. Jock looked around, his eyes gazing around for any signs of a ghost.

“I… I don’t think so. I don’t like it. Why would ghosts want to haunt us? And what’s a Mid Sodor?” Frank sighed, and looked over. Rex spoke up. “Our line is laid on the bed of an old one – a much older one. It ran right the way to Peel Godred, up the side of the hills. Unfortunately, it was always poor, and so its manager made… questionable purchases. Really, only Duke, Peter Sam and Sir Handel were properly reliable out of the lot – and the mines were worse. They bought any engine they could, and it led to a lot of issues. This… Smudger isn’t the first ghost we’ve heard of.”

Mike snorted again.

“Oh, please! It’s all rubbish – and a weird old lady vanishing right after telling an ominous story? You were seeing things Frank – I’ll prove it!” And Mike agreed to swap jobs with Frank and take the works train to relay the rails through the tunnel.

“A twisted grin, what nonsense,” sniffed Mike as he made his way up to the tunnel. The rails had to be pulled up first, and by the time the gangers were finished, dusk had already begun to fall. His driver went to reverse him back down the line, when there was a loud clang, and Mike lurched to the side, wincing in pain. A rock had been kicked up into his motion, and when the little red engine tried to reverse, it had smashed its way into his cylinder and left him in pain.

Mike wasn’t going anywhere.

The gangers decided to head back to the village to call for help and stay for the night, leaving Mike sat right by the entrance to the tunnel mouth.

The tunnel was dark… bar a glimmer of white.

White…

Teeth.

A grin.

A twisted grin.

A Twisted Grin…

TWISTED GRIN, DEMONIC EYES, AN ENGINE DESTROYED IN FIRE OF ITS OWN MAKING AND TURNED AGAINST THE WORLD. FURY, HATRED, EVIL, TWISTED GRIN. TWISTED GRIN, WHY HELLO THERE MIKE, YES I KNOW WHO YOU ARE – BETTER RUN NOW. RUN RUN RUN LITTLE MIKE, BEFORE I EVISCERATE YOU, LOOK AT MY EYES, MY TWISTED GRIN. TWISTED GRIN, EVIL, HATRED, FURY. TURNED AGAINST THE WORLD, AN ENGINE DESTROYED IN A FIRE OF ITS OWN MAKING, DEMONIC EYES, TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED.

Boom.

When Frank came to collect Mike in the morning, he was left stunned. Mike was shuddering violently, his eyes as wide as saucers and all the paint drained from him, leaving him a deathly white. All the trucks behind him were thrown about the hillside, ripped apart and completely ruined. The track into the tunnel had been shoved apart to its old width too, leaving the rails where the two gauges met twisted into an unholy shape.

And in the far corner of the tunnel, a beaming white twisted grin shone out.

Back to the Master Post

[eddiekaspbrakirlsblog]

i am a believer in the track star eddie kaspbrak headcannon 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[minxthenymph]

Gerard

[coffeecigsandcommentary]

MURDOCK AND HOWLETT SIMPS: I NEED. NEED. NEED. YOU ALL TO WATCH THE STICKY ON AMAZON PRIME.

If you are a Matt Murdock and/or Logan Howlett fan, I highly recommend watching The Sticky for Mike Byrne, played by Chris Diamantopoulos.

He is a mafia man pulling off a heist, and looks like Charlie Cox playing old man!logan. He is witty, smart, charming, handsome, “half as smart as he thinks he is”, and the perfect new obsession. If you find/write any fics about him, please let me know!!

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Mystery Science Theater 3000

Sample Size: 531 stories

Source: AO3

[andydrysdalerogers]

Sliding Into Home - A Frank Adler AU

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, eventual smut, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

AN: This is my new series I'm starting next week! I hope you all will like this one. Tagging my usual tag list but please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

Taglist: @patzammit @firephotogrl74 @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @jennmurawski13-writes @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim

Master List and Preview below:

Frank was looking at a Los Angeles icon, Dodger Stadium.  It was his new home, his new team and hopefully his new life.  He asked a security guard where to go and was met at the door by an assistant.  She was a shameless flirt, commenting on Frank’s forearms and his tattoos, cooing about how good of a player he is.  There was zero chance of Frank being interested.  His Friday Night adventures were reserved for road trips only. His one-night stands worked out just fine, in his opinion.  

As he was guided into the conference room, Frank was met with the president of operations, Nick Stanton. “Mr. Stanton.” 

“Frank! Good to see you again.” He shakes hands with Frank. “We’re waiting for everyone so can I offer you a drink?” He gestures to Frank to sit at the table. 

“Just a cola, thanks.” Frank took the seat next to the head of the table.  

“How was the move?” 

“Smoother than I thought it would be. Mary, my niece, threw a couple of tantrums but between me and my nanny, we managed to get her here.”  

“Nanny?” 

“Oh yeah, Scott, he’s great. He was willing to move with us, which is great since Mary seems to only listen to him.” Frank chuckles. “Who would listen to your uncle/pseudo father?” 

“I remember that story,” Nick replies. “You are brave to take on a baby right after bring drafted.”  

Frank shrugged. “Its not that big of a deal. You would do anything for family, especially Mary.”  

More voices float towards the conference room and Frank stands as he sees his agent and lawyer walk in and shake his hand. Then the general manager for the Dodgers comes in, making small talk with Frank.  

“Ok, I think we are just missing the team doctor and our legal team,” Nick tells everyone. “Its not Natasha, she’s busy with another client.  She’s sending in their new associate.”  

Frank just nods as the GM goes over the training schedule and when he would meet the team.  The conference room door opens and Frank turns to see and his stomach drops. He feels himself become clammy and pale. Because this shouldn’t be happening.  

Fuck.  

He looks at the brunette that walked in.  

she’s definitely not supposed to be here.  

What the FUCK! 

Abby Hernandez, his ex-girlfriend, love of his life, walked into the room.  

It Doesn't Stay In Vegas

The Future is West

Are You Sure We Aren’t Going Crazy

You Were Enough; You Are Everything

Fastballs and Fiancés

You Left Me

Take Your Niece to Work Day

Don't You Know How to Spell Assume?

Wanna Feel Safe Again

Maybe I should Have Ducked?

When It All Falls Apart

WTF Just Happened!

D N A: Diane Nicole Adler

Not Just a Pretty Face

It's A Ruff Life

Status: All Star

Since When is Ice Cream Evil

On the Hunt for Mike Weiss

The Next Adventure

A Bump in the Road

Unexpected Surprises

For Reasons Unknown...

Evidence, Emotions, Whatever

Trial By Fire

The One With the World Series

Oh Captain! My Captain!

Finale

[garbinge]

THE CASE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

Mike Franks x F!Reader // Leroy Jethro Gibbs & F!Reader // Word Count: 10.3k Summary: When an unexpected, all-hands on deck, case unravels you, Mike does everything he can to try and keep you grounded. But it's not enough. As the investigation continues, so does your unravelling which ultimately starts to push you down a path neither Mike or Gibbs want to see you on. As the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together and your luck seems to be running out, you're left to make a decision that you're not sure is the right one.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Mentions of reader having a brother who has PTSD/trauma/manic episodes. Brief mentions of a side character having suicidal thoughts/struggling. Stress, anxiety, as the kids say these days 'crashing out'. Case is focused on murder, drug addiction, violence, overdosing. All canon-like things. Canon-level violence. Hurt/Comfort. Fighting. Giving up a dream. Dealing with family members with mental illness. Light fluff at the end, but not like a happy go lucky ending. Let me know if I missed anything! Know this is heavy-stuff so please do not read if any of that makes you uncomfortable. A/N: Mike Franks brain rot really took over on this one. I tried really hard to make this case make sense but if it doesn't, apologies. I have a new respect for people who write investigation stories lol. More from this universe

The sound of the pager beeps going off made both of you turn over and haphazardly search your nightstands. 

“It’s me.” Mike groaned as the security department number flashed on the tiny screen, sleep still in his eyes. 

“Mine’s going off too.” 

That made both of you sit up rather quickly in bed, if you both were being paged then something serious had to have happened.

Without thinking, you both got dressed, rushing to get out of the door as fast as possible. You threw on your NIS sweatshirt, grabbed the first pair of sweats you could find and put your slippers on. 

The jingle of keys turned your attention to the door as you stood in the dining room. Mike was standing there in his long sleeve gray henley and jeans, attaching his badge to his belt and opening his safe to pull both your weapons out. 

“I’ll drive, your car takes 10 years to warm up.” His voice still had traces of sleep behind it. 

You were at his house phone, dialing the security number to get the info of the alert. “They’re not giving me anything. Just ‘dead body on Pendleton Beach’.” You lifted your hands up, frustrated that they weren’t giving you typical details but you also knew that being woken up like this didn’t exactly put you in the best mood either. 

“S’alright. We’ll get answers when we get down there. Giddyup.” He tilted his head to the door, your gun being held out in his hand for you. 

With a nod you put the phone back on the receiver and moved toward him, grabbing your gun from him and badge.

The car ride was silent, the wind howling from the windows being down and the calm of the night being the only noise to fill the space. Normally you’d have the radio on, but it was incredibly early for either of you to be thinking straight. 

Your eyes moved over to Franks whose eyes were glued on the road, the wind doing a good job at blowing his hair back to its normal position compared to how it was when he woke up. As your eyes trailed down you realized he was wearing jeans. At 4 in the morning. 

“You put jeans on.” Your eyes jumped back up to his face. 

“And?” His gravelly voice didn’t seem to care why you were making that statement.

“It’s 4 in the morning, we’re barely functioning and you put jeans on.” You were more embarrassed by your own brain not making the decision for yourself. Mike looked put together, it wasn’t his normal work attire but it was presentable. You were in a damn mismatch sweatsuit for fucks sake. 

“Ain’t no one gonna notice, babe.” It was like he could read your mind. 

“No one would notice if it was you, Franks. I’m one of the only women leads here, people notice everything I do.” You were looking around the car, searching for something, anything to make the situation better. “I mean I don’t even have a place to put my gun, what the fuck was I thinking?” Now you were frantic, unbuckling your belt so you could pick through the back seat. 

“You left a pair of jeans back there a few weeks ago.” You didn’t need to be looking at his face to know he had the biggest smirk on it, and him lightly slapping your ass as you were bent over the middle console doubled down on that. 

But despite his teasing, he wasn’t wrong, you did leave a pair of jeans back there. Quickly grabbing it, you fell back in the passenger seat, pulling your sweats off using the backrest of the seat to hold your balance as you did. Mike couldn’t help but let his gaze trail down to your bare legs, taking in the sight of you in your underwear next to him in the car was driving him nuts. 

“Eyes on the road, Tex.” You smirked, now shimmying into the pair of jeans before letting out a deep breath when you plopped back down on the seat, buttoning them and adjusting your badge on the belt loop. 

“Have a second holster in the glove box if you need it.” Mike pointed and you were fast to grab it and clip it onto your jeans. It wasn’t as utilitarian as hooking it to a belt but it was a lot better than the sweats you were wearing just minutes ago.

“2 minutes out, hot stuff.” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” With one more deep breath you took in the scene as you pulled up to Pendleton Beach. There were tons of cop cars, multiple caution tape perimeters, it would’ve been hard for a passerby to keep track of just how much was going on, but not for you or Franks. 

“Press is here.” Your breath hitting the window fogged it up slightly as you passed a press van that was chatting with a local officer. 

“Means every agency with an acronym is about to show up.” He went white knuckled on the steering wheel, pulling into the farthest open spot. 

He got out of the car so swiftly you double checked to make sure he put the car in park before getting out yourself. As you stood up out of the car, you looked around, past the red and blue lights, past the caution tape to the beach that was packed, but your eyes followed it down to where no one was. Where it was peaceful and calm, the horizon was a bit distorted, the heat coming up from Mike’s car engine was making it wave in and out. The sun wasn’t out yet, but on that side of the beach you could see the sky get just a bit lighter as the morning slowly crept up. 

Mike was in front of you, NIS hat in hand, a protocol for all crime scenes. He was dangerously close to you, likely why he parked so far so no one would see you two show up together. For someone who had just woken up, he was so damn sharp. 

As he stepped even closer to you, you felt his hand rest against your front, right where your jeans were buttoned, the warmth of his hand just placed there as he stared into your eyes. Just as you were about to question him, you felt his fingers touch the zipper that was sitting at the bottom seam and heard the metal starting to zip together. He started off slow but finished zipping it up fast, hard enough that the seam of the crotch in your jeans rubbed against your sensitive area and you let out a small moan. 

“Fly was down.” He whispered before taking a step back and putting on his own hat. “We’re about to walk into some shit.” He said it as he turned around, taking in the beach himself. 

There was no answer from you because from across the way you saw two people from your team pull up and you were already jogging over to them. 

You were the first person on the beach from NIS. Franks was debriefing with the local team that responded to the call. Your team was chatting with witnesses. Leaving you standing over the body. 

He was just a kid. Maybe 20? 

“Witness called in saying they saw a lifeless body on the beach around 3:25.” Mike’s voice was speaking to the rest of the team that had gathered around you. “We got a time of death, Dr. Tango?” 

“Bout an hour ago.” The medical examiner you knew as Tango was standing up from looking over the body. “Have to take a look officially but unofficially, looks like an OD.” 

“Why’s the press here?” You heard Lala’s voice now. She likely had just arrived on scene.

“Marcus Pardo.” You could tell Franks didn’t want to say the name. But it was all that needed to be said for everyone to understand why the press was here. “Deputy Director’s kid.” 

It was a Navy town, this–this would be on the local news and papers for days. 

“Dominguez, start taking photos. Randy, measurements. Gibbs, I want you canvassing the area, make sure these local uniforms didn’t cut us short in their perimeter.” Franks was calling out directions for his team while you stood there taking everything in, letting the information soak in your brain before giving your own team orders. 

You felt Mike’s eyes on you, it wasn’t the only set, the three people on your team were waiting for your word too. 

“Mac, I want you to go back to base, start researching every OD in this area in the last 6 months. I want dealers, users, drug names, what’s popular on the streets, how much, where they're getting it.” Cassidy Monroe was a computer genius, it’s why everyone called her Mac. She was the only one who knew those machines inside and out, the microfilms, computers, fax machines, how to find ways into other online databases to find information that was otherwise untouchable. If it was tech related, she was a natural at it. 

“Teo, talk with more locals, take the jacket and hat off if you need to. Charm it up, see what you can get that they normally wouldn’t tell brass.” Mateo Rivas wasn’t just a looker, but he had a way with words that made anyone and everyone comfortable with him. He could get pretty much anyone to open up by just flashing a smile. 

“Nash, work with Gibbs on the perimeter, think the local blues cut us off too short and used their tape to block off press more than the scene. Do that until you see FBI, DEA, NSA, HOMESEC–you see anyone with a fuckin’ acronym that doesn’t say NIS, I want you to pull Teo and do what you do.” Nash was a force to be reckoned with. He was confrontational, didn’t take no for an answer when it came to his job, but with that said he respected the hell out of authority. Never argued or pressed a single thing you said. Him and Gibbs were cut from the same cloth, a little reckless but loyal. He’d talk someone in circles so much he’d eventually get them on their side, and if that wasn’t working he had a very intimidating way about him. 

“We’ll debrief with Franks and team when we’re all back at HQ.” It was then that you broke off to the side. The sand didn’t stop you from picking up your pace as you broke from the crime scene’s outer edge, your hand lifting up the tape as you b-lined for the rocks by the shoreline. The tide was low and would stay that way for another 30 minutes. 

Your eyes searched the area, you weren’t sure what you were looking for, just that you were looking for something. 

“What’s that gut telling you?” Franks had followed you over. He was standing on the sand while you were 2-3 feet higher than him on the rocks. 

“When Auggie had to go to rehab— the program that was part of his settlement...” 

Your brother had been dishonorably discharged a few months ago. After the death of his long-time girlfriend, the trauma of losing someone he loved to a murderer ate at him. His time in the Navy became weathered. He dove straight into active duty, happy to take on any tour they assigned him to. The issue was, he was dealing with trauma, he’d have manic episodes all the time and one thing eventually led to another and he started getting violent, disappearing off base in the middle of foreign countries. When he punched his C.O. in the middle of an airstrike that’s when he was sent home.

“The days that Paratransit couldn’t take him, I’d drive him in, wait for him, then grab burgers and eat them on the beach.” Your eyes moved along each crevice of the rocks, looking for any sign of something abnormal. “He’d tell me that on the days he’d come here by himself, he’d sit on the rocks and hope that the tide would take him.” 

Franks was looking out to the horizon as you spoke, his hands on his hips, head falling when you mentioned the dark thoughts of your brother. He was fully aware of everything with Auggie. How it wrecked you seeing him this way, how you’d give up anything for him. He was at your place when August showed up on your doorstep having an episode, searching for his deceased girlfriend. He also was there when you found out he had been dishonorably discharged, a fact you learned about a few months after he was already home. Mike supported you in the best way he knew how. Watching out for you. He saw how much this all had broken you down, made you more erratic, your mind wasn’t 100% on the job anymore and while that was perfectly fine for a regular 9-5 office job, NIS was anything but that. NIS called for a lot more than a regular job, and Mike was doing a lot on his side to fill the gaps for you, even if he’d never admit it. 

You picked up on the energy shift from him, Mike might not have said much about it, hell, he usually kept his mouth shut whenever you’d have to deal with someone regarding Auggie, but you could tell he had opinions.

 “My point is, every time he’d come out here, he didn’t let it.” It was at that moment you saw something about 20 feet from you, right where the water was starting to come up to the rocks. 

“You’re thinking this wasn’t accidental suicide.” Franks was staring at you now, seeing how your personal life was coming to play in how you were breaking this case apart. 

“I’m thinking that Marcus Pardo was freshly back from war.” Your voice was getting louder now as you walked away, projecting out to him as you bent down and grabbed the object with a gloved hand. “The Deputy Director talked about it a lot–about the trauma his son endured and how he was finally coming home to accept his accolades. Was actually pretty vocal about it– especially for a promoting year.” 

The Deputy Director knew he had an opportunity to be moved up the chain, and it was clear he was tugging at people's heart strings to get there. ‘The next NIS Director whose son was going to be receiving stars and ribbons.’ 

“What you gettin’ at here?” Franks was stepping up on the rocks to start following you, curiosity floating around as he tried to put his own pieces of the puzzle together. You were insinuating a lot in your words and while he picked up on that, he was still racking his mind around it all. 

“I think Marcus would come here to let the tide take his thoughts instead of him.” Now you were holding the bracelet in your hand for Mike to see. It was a dainty chain with the letters M and L on them with a heart in between. “Someone was here with him.”

Franks was always impressed by your process, this time being no different, but he always challenged your thoughts because he knew not only would your boss, Wheeler, challenge it but so would the courts. They needed substantial evidence. 

“All circumstantial evidence, could be anyone's bracelet and even if he wasn’t alone, doesn’t mean he didn’t OD and the little lady left him here. Hell, she coulda been the one to call it in.” 

“You arguing with my gut, Franks?” You were walking toward him now, slowly as you maneuvered through the rocky terrain. In front of him, he pulled an evidence bag from the gear bag he had acquired on scene. Holding it open for you, his eyes didn’t leave yours. 

“Never.” It was one word that he needed to let marinate in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “We’re just gonna need this one to stick like gorilla glue. No gaps.” 

“I think Marcus Pardo was struggling.” Dropping the bracelet in the bag, you kept your eyes trained on Mike just as his were on you. “I think he was struggling and it made it hard on everyone around him.” 

Franks did everything in his power not to flinch at that statement. It was a direct projection of your own current issues with your brother. 

“I think someone turned their back on him.” Those words were haunting for you.  

It was at that moment that the tide had started to come in and the slight blanket of water washed over the rock you were standing on causing it to get slippery. You began to lose your balance but Franks so easily gripped your arm to steady you not losing an inch of his own footing as he did.

He kept his hand firm on your arm, letting you know he was with you.  “And we’ll get the sumbitch who did.” His teeth weren’t gritted tightly together, but there was a tightness to his lips as he spoke. Reading his eyes you could tell he was saying a lot in his head. 

—

“You hear me?” Mike’s voice got a little louder as he tried to break through your focus. When you looked up, he was at the furthest point of the table from you. His brows furrowed, eyes squinting as he stared at you. Your head was in another place, which might not have seemed like a big deal but everyone on the team knew keeping some part of your mind grounded when working on a case was a necessity. 

“Huh?” You looked up, trying to bring yourself back to reality. 

The TV in the conference room was on, your eyes focusing on it along with some of the other team members who had been watching it. A press conference where the Deputy Director was addressing the town about the loss of his son. 

“Said I’m gonna go pick up breakfast for everyone, wanted to know your order.” His eyes were still so focused on you. He was searching for something on your face and you were looking everywhere but his.

“Whatever breakfast sandwich is fine. Black coffee, lots of sugar.” You went back to looking at the file in front of you, searching Marcus Pardo’s squadron logs from his two tours, trying to find anything that would put you closer to finding out what happened.

“Why don’t you come with me, pick it out yourself. Let the team take a stretch without their overworking, married to the job, bosses breathing down their backs.” He let out a laugh looking around at Teo, Nash, Cassidy, Gibbs, Lala, and Randy. 

“Think we could all use some fresh air ‘nways.” He was standing up now, putting his holsters through his arms and situated on his back. He still had on the same outfit from the night before like you, none of the team having the chance to swing by home yet. 

“I’m good, the rest of you take a lap, a bathroom break, grab a coffee, I’m good.” You waved your hand as you flipped to the next folder. It wasn’t that Marcus had gotten into that many incidents, but you were reviewing every log his squad had, looking for a morsel of a clue to help your theory move forward. 

“I insist.” Mike’s face was back on yours, he was trying not to sound pissed or like he was talking to the woman he was sleeping with, he tried to keep it professional. Hopefully the others on the team would think that… he was technically senior to you. He was a supervisory agent longer than you which in theory put his rank above yours but in the chain of command on paper you both were at the same level. 

Gibbs seemed to be the only one to pick up on the tension, the other team members happily taking Mike’s words as an order and moving out of the conference room to take a breather. 

Gibbs was staring at you, his own hand going through the incident reports that you split up between you. “Hey, I’ll look through the rest of the reports, I’ll call if anything pops out.” His face was softened as he looked at you. 

Gibbs and you had sparked up a friendship about 6 months ago when you were at the office late working on an old cold case and he was stuck with probie paperwork. He wasn’t a member of your team, you’d only work together on cases in situations like this, which made your friendship easier to navigate. Neither of you ever felt like you fell in the giving and taking orders flow. Him offering to go through the papers was because he was just genuinely offering. Now, there was the added element that he was the only one on the team who knew you and Franks were a thing. He’d never spoken a word about it since the night he drove you home from the office and Franks was on your front porch, but he could tell that there was something else happening with you—something Franks was very much in the know of. 

He knew Franks well enough to know he wasn’t and wouldn’t practically demand you went with him because of relationship issues, it had to be something else. Gibbs noticed you were a little off your normal kilter. He tried to talk to you a bit when you were at Daly’s some nights but he also wasn’t the type to pry. His actions were how he’d support, like right now offering to take this off your plate for now. 

“We can stop by the forensics lab on the way back, see if Woody has anything with that bracelet.” Mike’s eyebrows were raised now, like he was getting impatient but also reaching at straws, anything to get you out of this conference room. 

“Alright, yea.” Standing up, you handed the stack of files over to Gibbs. “Got through the top 6, there’s 3 more. Only pattern I’m seeing is that he’d log at the mail tent everyday.” 

“I’ll take a look.” Gibbs smiled, which was unusual for him and that made your brows furrow, just as you were about to ask him about it, Mike cut you off. 

“C’mon, I’m hungry.” 

— 

As you walked into the deli, despite Mike holding the door open for you, you let him take the lead. It helped that the guy behind the counter called out to him. 

“How’s it goin’, Joey?” Instead of putting a cigarette to his mouth, he grabbed a toothpick from the top of the clear glass counter and popped it between his lips, letting his tongue twirl it around. His arms rested on the case, waiting for who you assumed to be Joey to approach him. 

“Let me get my usual. But triple it, gotta bring some back for my guys.” He looked over his shoulder at you. “You good with the sunrise sandwich?” It was what you’d get normally, it was half of what ‘Mike’s usual’ was. It was then that Joey looked at you, a small smirk playing at his lips before looking back down to the register. Mike always ordered two sandwiches, but you were never usually accompanying him to get them so you were a mystery who finally had a face. 

“Yea my usual.” You nodded and made yourself seem busy in the back, staring at the photos on the wall of every person of notary who had eaten here. 

“I got chipotle hollandaise today.” Joey called out looking directly at you. 

You smirked, sometimes you’d have to settle with a mayo ketchup mix, but whenever the hollandaise was available, that’s what Mike would get. It was funny how this man, Joey, who you never met before knew your sandwich preferences. 

“Put a little extra on it then.” You went back to looking at the photos, feeling less awkward than before which allowed your mind to start thinking back on the case. Reasons why someone would go check for mail everyday verse waiting for it to be handed out. The thought was mulling over in your head. Waiting for something important, too eager to wait the extra hours for it to be delivered out. Letters from family could do that. It could have been a routine thing, your brother told you he’d try and get out of his space as often as he could when he was overseas, take a walk around the camp. 

“Keep at it like that, and you’ll be runnin’ on fumes.” Mike knew better than to be overly affectionate when you were still on the clock, but since it was just you two, he got close to you, his chest against your side. 

“When you were enlisted, if you were expecting letters would you go check if things came in? Or wait for them to come to you?” You were still looking at the wall but your eyes were focused on what you were working on in your brain. 

With a sigh and a drop of his head Mike closed his eyes and brought his hand to scratch his head. “Uh,” he pushed his original thoughts aside to think about your question. “Would depend on the day, some days when I knew I was gettin’ a letter from my mama or sum I’d stop by the mail tent.” 

“He was expecting something. Something that came consistent enough that he’d check back everyday.” 

“Or he was expecting something that never came.” Mike hated to feed into the gears turning in your head right now but he’d be lying if you weren’t on to something.

“Something that never came.” It was spoken under your breath as you thought through it and then you turned to look at him. “Who interviewed the Deputy Director, did he mention Marcus having any close friends– a girlfriend?” 

“Randy and Mac did, put Teo in the room too.” Mike’s face was serious. 

“You used it as an opportunity to get the quiet ones some face time,” you let out a laugh,  “you’re twisted you know that?” You saw straight through it, in a case like this it was unspoken protocol for someone like you, Franks or even Wheeler to do the honors of interviewing someone like the Deputy Director.

“You’re the one who reminded me. It’s a promoting year.” He wasn’t wrong, it was the year they were going to appoint agents up, every second counted to earn face. 

“He mention a girlfriend?” You asked the question again that he purposefully avoided the first time. 

“No mention of a girlfriend, just a best friend that Lala went to interview last afternoon. He just landed back in town at 1PM yesterday, was in Bozeman Montana visiting family when our T.O.D occurred.” 

Dead end again. You turned to Mike as the first statement he made clicked in your head. “What did you say before?” Your face twisted up in confusion. 

“You’re runnin’ yourself ragged.” He had a coffee in his hand that he was holding out to you.

“And here I was under the impression that you thought I was pretty.” Teasing him, you took the coffee and immediately took a sip that earned a bitter look on your face while you searched for the table with sugar packets. 

 “Put damn near 5 packets of sugar in that thing.” He brought his own cup up to his mouth.

“You act like we haven’t worked all-nighters before.” You were focused on taking the lid off the coffee and pouring more sugar into the steaming cup, not wanting to discuss your coffee with him. 

“Not since your brother came back, no.” 

That made you stop what you were doing and look at Mike, reading his face was always more difficult than you cared to admit. 

“My brother came back when I started working on that cold case. I had plenty of all-nighters.” You corrected him. 

“I meant since you found out he was dishonorably discharged. Since I got his case put on my desk. Since you’ve been practically living at my house because you can’t find it in yourself to go home and share the space with him for more than an hour.” 

It was harsh, but that was something you could always count on Franks for. Not holding back. 

But despite knowing that, you couldn’t help but feel your ego get bruised a little bit. “If you don’t want me staying at your place you just had to say that, I’ll pick up my stuff when we wrap this up.” 

“Now you know that ain’t what I meant. Hell, I’ve told you just to pack up the rest of your shit and move it in. I want you there. But I also want you here.” His hand pointed to the ground and then to your head. “And with whatever you got goin’ on there, it’s taking you away from here.” 

“I’m fine.” You turned your attention back to the coffee and took a sip, it wasn’t perfect–not the way you liked it, but you didn’t want to stand there anymore. You popped the lid back on and moved away from Franks, hoping if you got closer to the counter and the people working behind it, he’d drop it. 

“You know I’m right. I know you feel yourself losing it, that part of yourself that keeps grounded. You’re putting too much energy into your gut and not the evidence. You’re doing exactly what you beat yourself up for.” He was whispering it, because he didn’t want the employees to hear, but he also wasn’t going to let this go. 

What you beat yourself up for. The case that started your fucking issues. When your brother’s girlfriend went missing, NIS was assigned to the case, when there was a second victim, you practically begged Wheeler to be assigned on it. That was when you had your first big fuck up. Following a lead that had no legs, and even though your gut told you not to, you lost valuable time. From that day forward you never doubted your gut, but now, with how things were mentally for you, maybe you were taking that so true to heart that you were making the same mistake again. 

“You don’t think my theory is right?” With that sentence, your head snapped to look at him, your lips pursed and nostrils flared. 

“If you were 100% here, you wouldn’t be asking me that.” His nostrils flared back. “I have never once questioned your gut. Still ain’t. Don’t think you're wrong either, or that this theory of yours is. But that’s the thing, it’s a theory, and you’re spending all night chasing it verse connecting something we already have to it. You’re getting lost.” 

It was then that the bags of food were being placed on the counter. “I’m havin’ my guys deliver the rest to the office for you, Franks. Bagged up both your orders, though.” He was smiling, like he had finally cracked the case of Mike Franks’ mystery woman. Another day, you might’ve been more inclined to chat with him, tease Mike together and bask in the glory of being the mystery California Sunrise sandwich girl, but not today.

“Thank you, Joey.” You offered a soft smile and grabbed the bags but it was short lived before Franks politely took them from you. It was likely a chivalrous thing, but you got annoyed, shooting him a look as you made your way to the door. 

“Hope to see you next time, hollandaise!” It was the first time you had earned that nickname, and while you wanted to laugh, it’d probably make Joey’s day if you did, you just gave a slightly bigger smile and waved before stepping out the door that Franks was holding open for you. 

“Yea, I do too Joey.” Mike called out while you walked to the car. He knew he was on thin ice with you right now. 

“Let’s get to the lab so I can start connecting my theory to real evidence, yea?” You yelled it to him as you plopped in the passenger seat. It was crazy to think it had been 24 hours since you were in this car driving to the crime scene. The time really was getting lost and you were spending most of it following your theory. The difference in your head was that you weren’t putting your team on it, you were giving them the evidence to follow, so you weren’t wasting time or following dead ends. 

Mike handed you the sandwich as he backed out of the spot, sunglasses perched on his nose, one hand on the wheel as he looked around but still just barely. He acted like he owned the road, like he knew better than it. If you weren’t running on 4 hours of sleep from the day prior, it probably would have been hot, but mixed with what he was just saying inside the deli, you felt like you were just staring at a very entitled Mike Franks in this moment. 

—

As you entered the lab, Woody was looking into a microscope. “Michael Franks.” 

“Curly.” He nodded at him as Woody stepped back from the microscope. 

“Good timing, just processed that bracelet. Was taking one last look to see if we missed any prints.” 

“What’d you find, Woody?” It wasn’t like you to rush the man, but you weren’t in the mood to fuck around right now. 

He looked at you and then his eyes moved to Franks. He was about to ask what was up with you but Franks cut him off, knowing it’d be the best for everyone involved. 

“Missed any prints? That mean you found some already.” He was stepping towards the table. 

The entire room was fluorescent white from the lights, it gave off a sterile feel but once you moved past the horizon line of the room, that feeling disappeared as the mess of the lab took over. 

“Matched one print to the deceased, but couldn’t pull anything else. We did look into manufacturing and it was done by a local jeweler, cheap metal, probably one of those pick a chain pick a charm shops.” 

You felt defeated. Like all the work you just put in was nothing, you were hoping there was at least one print from who it belonged to. 

“Let’s get back to HQ.” 

Mike’s face was in its usual resting position but you could tell there was something in his mind. 

“We know Marcus had to have been with our mystery bracelet lady and that it’s not just a random piece of jewelry. I’d like to think that’s a step in the right direction, agent.” Agent. Yea, he was reaching his limit and so were you. 

Before you could respond, your beeper was going off. 

NIS HQ

“Woody I’m using your phone!” You grabbed it off the wall and hit the numbers for HQ before taking a step out into the hall. 

“NIS, Mary Jo speaking.” 

“It’s me. Got a page.” Your voice fell into a more cheery tone, it was almost impossible to have anything but when talking with Mary Jo. 

“Hey sweetheart, yea, it was Gibbs, let me transfer you.” 

It took longer than normal to be transferred, and you knew it was because Gibbs had no clue how to answer a transferred call. 

“Hello?” His voice sounded flustered, confirming your suspicion. 

“You gotta just hit the line number that’s flashing, Gunny.” 

“Where are you?” He skimmed right by the question. 

“Forensics.” 

“Think you were on to something about the mail. The sergeant that gave us these folders put the mail log in the files so I pulled the registry, he was getting letters from a Lauren Carey.” 

“Our mystery bracelet woman.” You nodded, and started walking back to the lab. “You got an address for me, Gunny?” 

“She lives two blocks from the lab. 45 Mulberry.” 

You smiled at that, it’s why he asked where you were before starting to tell you. Smart ass fucking agent. 

“Thanks, Jethro.” 

Before you made it to the door, you stopped short. Walking in there you’d have to give a break down, you’d lose valuable time, so instead you dropped the phone and made your way there. 

“She takin’ a while to you?” Franks began his steps to the door. 

“I wouldn’t say she’s being quick.” Woody shrugged and turned his attention back to the microscope. 

“Goddammit!” Franks yelled out as he pushed out the door to see the corded phone abandoned on the ground. “This woman is going to be the death of me.” He mumbled that line as he let a hand trail down his face.

—- 

You walked up to the apartment, knocking twice before letting your eyes keep scanning the area around. Plants were mostly dead, cigarette buds were tossed in an ashtray next to a rocking chair on the porch, but you could tell they were old based on the aging of them. 

“Yea?” The door opened and the woman looked like she saw a ghost as you made eye contact. 

After giving her your name, you went to grab your badge to show when your head was being slammed into the side of the door frame. Everything went black after that. 

—- 

“Hey, you seen our girl?” Mike was walking back into HQ, stopping at Mary Jo’s desk as he mindlessly searched through the files on her desk. 

Normally, she’d swat his hand away but with the information she’d have to share, she decided not to. The endearment Mike used wasn’t what made her look at Franks that way, a knowing way, it was something he’d call you to Mary Jo because well, you were both their favorites. 

Her knowing look had a flicker of something, Mary Jo was the eyes and ears of NIS headquarters, and Mike knew better than to question the flicker. But he did question the fact she wasn’t her normal self. 

“Mary Jo?” He repeated now dropping the files. 

“She’s at base medical, got hurt when going to question the bracelet girl. Last I heard it was a concussion, maybe some stitches.” 

Franks was walking down the hallways with swiftness and purpose, the steam from his anger fueling his speed as he skipped over every other step to get to the medic upstairs. He practically took the door off its hinges as he opened it, freezing as he saw you on the table with a bandage on your forehead. 

“Jesus Christ, Franks. You’re lucky they were done stitching me up, I’d need to get stitches from my stitches.” Your hand fell to your heart and you took a deep breath. “I’m all good here, doc, thanks.” The doctor nodded and left the room past Mike who didn’t even look at him, his eyes were glued to you, staring between your head and your eyes. 

“Don’t freak out, please. I have a headache and can’t deal with another.” Your eyes closed. 

“You’re a supervisory special agent.” You weren’t sure where his statement was going. “Right?” 

“Where you goin’ with this, Franks?” Your cheeks raised as your eyes squinted. 

He stepped closer to you now, standing in between your legs, it was the closest you two had been at work ever. His left hand raised and cupped your face, his hand so large that his fingers brushed along the gash that was about half an inch on your forehead and another full inch onto your scalp. 

His face had softened as he looked at you, you flinched at the grazing over the wound, your whole head pounding from the concussion. 

“You’re a fuckin’ supervisory agent.” It was spoken through gritted teeth at a whisper, the anger growing back on his face. “And you’re acting like a damn probie.” 

You pushed his hand away then, the pounding getting worse. 

“Going to question someone alone is not only incredibly stupid but against the book.” His voice was raised now. 

“Don’t lecture me about the book, Mike. You haven’t even seen the cover of the damn book.” Now you jumped off the table and went to gather your things. 

“What about our book? Our rules.” He was stepping closer to you again. Our rules. You had a small set of them, something you put in place when you both decided to start extracurriculars together outside of work. 

“I got hurt because our number one lead slammed my head into a door frame when I went to grab my badge. I didn’t go looking for shit.” 

Rule 4: Don’t go looking for trouble without backup. 

“You did the dip. If you had a partner with you, it could’ve been clocked and you could’ve been out of there without a scratch!” Now he was fully yelling. 

“Stop fucking yelling!” As you raised your voice you immediately regretted it, the pounding in your head was felt everywhere. 

“And what about the fuckin’ forensics lead? Because there’s no prints you just hit a dead end? You’re not thinkin’ straight! Woody got the information on the store that fuckin’ made it, we could’ve found her from that but you’re so caught up in your own head you’re missing shit–important shit!” 

“We didn’t need the forensics lead, we had gotten something from the fucking letters Mike!” 

“We didn’t get shit. You did. A fucking concussion and 5 goddamn stitches because you wanted to handle shit by yourself!” His voice was getting louder with each sentence. 

“Gibbs was on scene two minutes after I got hit. He brought me to the ambulance before chasing after Lauren. Who he caught, I might add.”  

It was then that it clicked. He realized who was on the phone with you when you pulled your disappearing act. Within seconds, the doors were being slammed open and Mike was moving just as fast as before back through the halls of NIS. The only time he slowed down was when he found the doctor that was in the room with you earlier. Stopping dead in his tracks he stepped in front of him. 

“The good doctor!” He called it out to get his attention. “I want you to run every diagnostic and test you can on that young woman up there. Full work up. Alright? And if she asks why make some shit up!” He was back to moving to his bullpen before the doctor could even argue with him. 

All eyes were on Mike when he entered the room. 

“Whose team are you on?!” Mike was leaning on Gibbs’ desk, his fist slamming onto the table when he didn’t answer within half a second and everything on his desk jumped in the air and if it didn’t topple over, it lost its balance for a second. “Who do you call boss?” 

They were rhetorical questions, but Gibbs was still very much married to military life so he went to answer Franks but he shut it down pretty quickly. “You got a tip, you call me. Everything goes through me. You know who calls her?” 

Another rhetorical question that Gibbs had enough time to answer this time. “You.” 

That made Mike even more mad. He knew Gibbs knew. But it was never spoken out loud, the two just went on without any word on the matter. To Mike, Gibbs one worded answer felt like he was throwing it in his face and that didn’t sit right with Franks. 

“Teo. Nash. Mac.” His voice was dripping in frustration, correcting Gibbs on this felt so entirely personal. “That’s who the fuck calls her. Her team.” His finger was slamming into the desk now, his frown was drooping down his chin and his face was wrinkled in anger. “She’s up at the medic with a concussion and gash the size of a fuckin half dollar on her face. So the next time you want to give tips, follow the right channels.” He was pushing off the desk to go into interrogation now, planning to start questioning the girl you had attempted to bring in. “And you pull some shit like this again and you’ll be off the damn roster.” 

Gibbs didn’t realize you were back yet, he had assumed you were in the hospital but he should have known better than to assume you’d put your health first. 

He knocked on the door before peeking his head in. You were back on the exam table, this time with a folder across your lap. When you saw who was at the door, your face softened and you let your lips pull together a brief smile. 

“Hey, Gunny.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be back.” He entered the room fully now, being careful as to closing the door softly so it didn’t make too much noise. 

“I’d be in interrogation right now but the doctor came back wanting to do a full work up. Extra precaution he said. Apparently concussions are NIS legal nightmares or something.” 

“Probably for the better, Franks just went down.” 

You nodded at that, looking back at the folder. “She say anything when you brought her in?” 

“Lauren? Yea, she was going on about a set up but it was hard to understand her, Lala turned the radio up because she was still having a fit.” Gibbs explained as he went to lean on the exam table across from you. “How you feelin’?” 

“Like shit.” You answered looking through your brows with a smirk. When you looked at him, you could see through his expression, you could see him hurting. “How bad was he?” 

“I should have called him first.” There he was. The Gibbs who respected authority to a fault.

“It was a job I assigned you, you did it by the book.” You thought if you got technical with the probie, it’d make him feel better. 

“Technically I volunteered. I should have called Franks.” 

“You were being a good friend.” Maybe that angle would resonate with him better. 

“Yea, a great one.” He pointed to your head. 

“You had no idea I’d go all cowboy on this. I’ve shown no track record of being impulsive like this. This isn’t on you, Gibbs.” 

“I knew something was off, I picked up on it this morning, s'why I took the files from you.” His arms were crossed. 

“It that obvious to the team?” 

“No, just me.” 

With a sigh, you took the file off your lap and placed it next to you on the exam table and leaned your elbows on your thighs to catch your head. Massaging your figures on your scalp, you were hoping the small release would relieve the tension, spoiler alert– it didn’t. When you sat straight up again you caught Gibbs eyes with your own and shook your head. 

“I’ll argue with him all day about it but he isn’t wrong. Franks– he knows me too damn well. My head isn’t here.” 

“You’re running on empty. We got woken up in the middle of the night and haven’t slept since.” Gibbs was defending you to yourself and you had to appreciate it. 

Smiling, you nodded. “I wish it was just that, Jethro.” What you were about to say was hard and you weren’t able to look him in his eyes when saying it. “I’ve been struggling since my brother got back. I was able to disconnect from that shit after that damn murder case wrapped and we found Jessica’s killer. August was back on base, waiting for his deployment papers and I just put myself so deep into work, it was a couple years of me just not having to deal with it.” 

“When he came back, so did everything else.” Gibbs wasn’t a stranger to that, to grief flooding over you, to not dealing with it. 

“He came back so broken, I felt like shit that I was just okay.” 

“You weren’t okay.” Gibbs corrected you. “Just because you acted like it doesn’t mean you were.” 

“It just all came crashing down but I didn’t deal with it again–I couldn’t. I had to be okay because Auggie wasn’t.” Remembering back to when your brother came to your front door, thinking he couldn’t find Jessica, his memory flashing back and forth between past and present, reliving the trauma of losing her. You didn’t find out he was dishonorably discharged until Mike pulled you aside at work one day. 

–

After Mary Jo left the bullpen, the post-it note on top of a folder that she left on Mike’s desk made his heart drop. He stared at it for a bit before reading through the papers and then staring at the note Mary Jo left for him again. Everyone in the room was either in their own conversations or nose down into their paperwork. Mike getting up went unnoticed by everyone, even you, until he tapped his knuckle on your desk and tipped his head for you to meet him. 

With no words, after a few minutes you got up and walked to the bathroom, taking one last look around before entering the men's room and locking the door behind you. 

“Couldn’t wait till shift change?” You teased before you got a chance to clock his face but when your gaze moved from the lock to him against the sink with his arms crossed, one hand rubbing his face along his mustache, you knew something was up. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Look, this ain’t easy news.” He lowered his hand from his face, letting it now rest against the sink. “It's your brother.” 

“August?” His full name was saved for moments like this, tense ones. 

With a nod Frank’s lips pursed for a minute before speaking. “Few months back, when he showed up, wasn’t because his tour was over, Navy sent him back.” 

“Doesn’t shock me if they discharged him for health reasons, he was struggling–still is.” 

Mike nodded again, seeing how the desperation was starting to pool around your eyes. You knew there was more, you were just waiting for Franks to say it. 

“He was dishonorably discharged, kid was starting fights, going AWOL. Enough times to cause serious concern.” 

Those words felt like boulders dropping on your head. While you were here, laughing with the team, drinking after work, getting tangled up with Mike, your brother was crying out for help.

“How long did you know?” 

“Just found out. But I had a feeling there was more to the story.” His head dropped down, staring at the floor, it was clear he was as upset about it as you were. This was more than just someone he worked with’s family member. This was you. He had gotten to know Auggie pretty well over these last months. Shared drinks with him, a cigarette or two as well. They’d go out together to Daly’s when you were working late. Sometimes even would hit the range together, or go fishing from time to time. 

“Why are we finding out now?” 

His expression turned tight, each step of this conversation was uncomfortable for him. “Just got word that he made a threat to his old C.O. NIS has been called in to investigate.” 

The room got smaller, you felt like it was taking all the air with it too. Your mind started to jump from thought to thought. You knew you wouldn’t be on the investigating team. It was a stretch that Wheeler put you on Jessica’s murder case when the second victim was found. 

“What kind of threat?” The dread was soaked in your tone. He didn’t speak, just looked at you with knowing eyes. “Tell me it’s not serious, Mike.” 

“I don’t want to lie to you.” He didn’t break eye contact. “It was bad enough to raise some eyebrows. Mary Jo left the report on my desk. He’s on the radar now. Wheeler pulled favors and got me on the case. I'm not going to pull the team on it though, I’m going to work it with Strickland. Keep it quiet.” 

“What’s your thoughts on the final outcome?” Now you were trying to jump back into your professional brain. How was this going to play out? You needed to think logically. 

“Best-case? Community service, mandated rehab and anger management, few restraining orders towards his squad and some places on base and a huge dark mark in his file.” 

“Worst-case?” You could come up with the idea in your head of both case scenarios but since Mike had read the file he knew more in depth realities. 

“Worst-case? He puts in some time in lock up, waters still murky on if it’ll be civilian or military since the assaults and threats are spanning across active and inactive service. He already lost his benefits, salary, and housing. He won’t be allowed on any base for any reason.” 

“He’s being washed out.”  You’d seen it with a few vets since starting at NIS, luckily in those scenarios their family helped them get back on their feet. You would be that. You would do anything to help him get back on his feet.

Mike pushed off the sink and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for a hug and quick peck on the head before making sure the coast was clear in the hall. “C’mon. Let me drive you home.” 

—

“I would do anything to save him. I think that’s the thing with this job, we get used to it. Being able to solve things for people. I wish I could just shake him out of it. I wish I could shake me out of it.”  You looked back at Gibbs when you spoke that line and his eyes looked knowing until there was a shift in his face. 

I would do anything to save him.

Gibbs tried to bring his face back to neutral and it seemingly worked because when he went to say goodbye by squeezing your shoulder and offering his help wherever possible, you let him go without a second thought, bringing the file back onto your lap and diving right back into work. 

As soon as Gibbs was out of your view, he was fast-paced headed in the direction of interrogation. Lala was in the room where the TV was hosting the live feed of the interrogation room. 

“She’s claiming to have gotten the drugs from a new source.” Lala’s pen was attached to her mouth as she spoke, focused on the screen. “Gave us a description–guy, glasses, widow's peak. It’s not much to go on but Mac’s research shows there’s no new sources in the Pendleton area, so it’s gotta be someone on the outskirts, she’s casting a wider net on her fancy computer program.” 

 That information on top of the gut feeling your words had caused him was all he needed. He remembered the news broadcast he caught this morning in the conference room, where the Deputy Director spoke out at a press meeting about his son passing by suicide. Next to him was his assistant, who had glasses and a widow's peak. 

“The Deputy Director did it.” The words were spoken with finality, like he had no room to be swayed. 

“That’s an intense accusation.” Lala had moved the pen down from her mouth, frowning in pure confusion. 

“He’d do anything to save his son. He was trying to get rid of the girlfriend. She had been writing Marcus letters, tons of them, everyday. When he came home, Marcus leaned on Lauren versus him.” 

“Lauren got Marcus mixed up in the drugs.” Lala was slowly starting to wrap her own understanding around the accusation. 

“The Deputy Director was trying to drug Lauren. Wasn’t expecting his son to be with her that night.” 

Franks voice made both him and Lala turn around. “You better have some damn good evidence to back that up, probie.”

— 

He did. Lauren identified the man who sold her drugs as the Deputy Director’s assistant, who very quickly unraveled in interrogation. Admitted to the whole thing. Gibbs’ theory was correct. The drugs had a chemical in it that would have killed anyone who did them. It was meant for Lauren, who they knew had dabbled in her fair share of drugs, but before she took her share, Marcus took his. They even pulled the letters between Marcus and Lauren, all detailing how Marcus’ father was trying to get him into NIS and use him to buff up his own legacy, despite his very vocal disagreements with both things. The Deputy Director was losing his son and in his attempts to pull him closer, he pushed him directly into what would cause his demise. 

“Rumor has it, Elaine Peschi is being promoted up to Deputy Director.” Mike had just gotten in, you were on the couch, staring at the TV showing the press conference where both you and him were at earlier in the day together. 

“A woman Deputy Director, makes my decision a little more bearable.” You smiled, not a real smile though. One that was filled with many emotions. Sorrow. Understanding. Inevitability. 

Mike didn’t give you a verbal response, just looked at you, his eyes squinting as he tried to search your face. He knew the look you were wearing well, he’d been around you long enough to recognize it. There was a feeling he knew what you meant, and by the look on your face there wasn’t anything anyone could do to sway your choice. 

As he kicked his shoes off, he moved closer to you, his eyes only jumping from you twice. Once to look at the group of you on the TV and twice to see that your badge wasn’t on his entry table where it normally was. Now he fully realized. 

“You sure about this?” He spoke quietly. 

“No.” It was blunt but true, that was something you and Mike could count on each other for. Being honest. “But if I don’t leave now, I’m gonna get someone besides me hurt. And I can’t live with that.” 

Mike nodded, moving to sit on the corner of his coffee table, not directly in front of you, but so your right leg was in between his. With one hand resting on the inner section of your knee, he squeezed it in a comforting manner. 

“That pull to walk away before it eats you alive…it’s the hardest choice to make. Selfishly, I wanna tell you to stay, tell you that it’ll get easier.” 

“But you’d be lying.” You smiled, placing your hand on his. 

He nodded, staring directly at you with a look only a woman Mike loved could get. The team would never believe it. The softness in his features, the kindness in his eyes. 

Pushing off the coffee table he plopped down next to you, his left arm moving around your back to pull you against his chest, his right securing you in that position before he rested his chin over your head. 

“Tell me I’m making the right decision.” You spoke it at a whisper, if the TV volume had been any higher he wouldn’t have heard you. As he stared at the screen, seeing you and him stand next to Wheeler as he spoke at the podium, he mourned it a little. Not having you in the office with him anymore, not looking up from his desk to see that dimple that would form when you were in deep thought, no more driving in together, sneaking out together. 

His jaw tightened, he wanted to take a deep breath but he knew that’d give off the wrong message. So he just took a few more beats, letting this sink in before he answered you. 

“It’s gonna feel off for a bit.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “But if you need me to tell you you’re doing the right thing, I will. Because I trust you know you’re making the right choice.” 

It was such a Mike Franks answer and you couldn’t help but laugh at it while bringing a hand up to wipe a stray tear. 

“Gonna miss this.” You pointed to the screen where you two stood tall next to each other. 

His mouth mumbled against the top of your head. “We’ve always found a way,” he pursed his lips and left a kiss there, then brought it down slightly to kiss where your stitches were lightly, “this’ll be no different.” 

“We can make out at the holiday party now without worrying that anyone is going to write us up.” Sure, it might’ve been a joke to ease the tension, not think about the weight of all of this anymore, but there was definitely some truth in the joke. “If you’ll take me as your plus one.” 

Now it was Mike’s turn to laugh, the chuckle causing your head to move against his chest. “If I don’t bring you, Mary Jo or Lala would be the first to rope you in as theirs.” 

“You pawning me off already?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He kissed your head again and then frowned at the screen. 

“Good because now that I don’t have to act professional, those parties are about to be a lot more fun.” Squeezing into his side you tightened your own grip on him. 

He teased back with you. “I’m countin’ down the days till Christmas.” 

You both sat quietly, watching the last few minutes of the press conference, the weight of the decision sitting heavy in the room but right now, you felt safe in this little bubble on the couch with Mike. Like the weight couldn’t get to you there. He must’ve thought so too because neither one of you moved from that spot on the couch, both falling asleep there and letting tomorrow be the day that you faced this head on. 

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @shamelessturtlebeliever @babebaber @that-one-fangirl69 (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

More from this universe

[liv45no]

y’all THE GUILT OF THE EIGHT has its own playlist now🎀 feel free to tune in, it’s got paralleles to my Losers Club playlist🤸

[stranger-theory]

i never did what i said i would💀

anyway here's an off the cuff joke fanfic for you guys🫶

The halls are quiet as Mike Hot Wheels and Bill Wyers walk to the gym, just collecting Luca the Fish Sinclair's jacket for him. As they open the doors and make their way to the bleachers, Troy Bolton and James hippity hop out from another door.

"Well, Well. Looks like the fairy's back with his boyfriend. >:)"

Bill Wyers hears the comment and remembers these shitheads so he's about to argue back, something like "Akshully☝️🤓 he's not my boyfriend" 'til he sees poor Mike Hot Wheels' distressed face. Just this once, Bill Wyers thinks he's not the main target of this attack.

"Well? Got anything to say to that, Bichael Queeler??" Troy Bolton says, expectantly. Mike Hot Wheels looks down, embarrassed, "He's not my boyfriend :/💔" he says. BILL WYERS GASPS AT THE REALIZATION:

THEY'RE CALLING MIKE GAY?!??$1?*?!?$@???

No, no, no, he's not having it. As troy bolton is about to make another home of fobik remark, Bill Wyers epicly places a hand on Mike Hot Wheels' shoulder and smirks. "Yk what, Troy Bolton? You suck. And tbh? It's kinda gay to be so obsessed with gay people yourself." He drops the mic, moonwalking out of the room.

Troy Bolton, Mike Hot Wheels, and James are left standing there, shaking in their boots. Troy cries like that one fucking blue crying emoji with the open mouth and runs off, James following behind. As Mike Hot Wheels is left alone in the silence of the gym, he quickly remembers the boy waiting behind the doors of the room.

MIKE HOT WHEELS RUNS UNTIL HE REACHES THE HANDLES.

Pulling them open, he sees Bill Wyers, Chad posing.

"Wussup, bbg." Slips from the mushroom's mouth. All their secrets were revealed: Mike was a gay ass bitch and so was Bill. There was no need to hide anymore.

Mike Hot Wheels and Bill Wyers skip off into the sunset, hand in hand, as a dramatic rainbow grows in the clouds above them.

- The End

Written Poorly by Frank Sinatra

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mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym mike wheeler at the gym

[sleepyfawn444]

Sleepy Fawn’s Works

- I am currently into NCIS, meaning if I get anything out anytime soon it will likely be an NCIS fanfiction 🎀

- I have 2 published fanfics for Avatar TWOTW, and 1 for COD.

- I am a romance, x reader writer. I’ve been thinking about writing an x OC fic but I don’t know if anyone would read it.

Below is a list of characters I have written or may write for, and links to my published works.

NCIS - Naval Criminal Investigative Service

disclaimer: I haven’t watched seasons 1-7 or 18-22, so I can’t write for Kate, Jenny, Knight, etc (as of last updated)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs;

> no works yet

-

Young Mike Franks;

> no works yet

Avatar: The Way Of The Water

Miles Quaritch;

> Speak Up, Love

⤷ Recom!Reader is selectively mute, shy, n a scientist/medic. incomplete/discontinued series

-

Ao’nung;

> Saccharine incomplete/discontinued series

-

Jake Sully;

> no works yet

-

Tonowari;

> no works yet

Call Of Duty : MWII

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley;

> Yearning

⤷ In which, reader and Simon go for a walk and share a conversation outside. The conversation ends a little too flirtatiously for Simon to handle. incomplete series

-

Capt. John Price;

> no works yet

-

König;

> no works yet

To Be Continued

last updated; 11/11, 2024

[eddiekaspbrakirlsblog]

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