Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
AN. A lighter chapter this time.
The atmosphere is alive with laughter and music as the band entices party goers to the dance floor. At the bar, medical examiner Donald Mallard sits over a glass of scotch and closes his eyes to take it all in, the stress of the day slowly receding. It's a hard job his, seeing so much life wasted, especially the more he gets on. But he loves the work and the team and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Two more glasses of the white please." Says a voice further down the bar.
"Ah Young Timothy" he says recognising the junior field agent.
"Ducky! What brings you here?" McGee says as he walks over.
"Oh I'm escorting mother, she's rather partial to these fundraising events and the band is simply wonderful. Did you know in 1717 Bach once challenged fellow harpsichordist Louis Marchand to a music duel ."
"Er I had no idea."
"Though unfortunately mr Marchand fled on the day of the duel and Bach never spoke of it again. "
"Anyway, what brings you here m'boy?"
"I'm er actually here with a date ."
"Well what are you doing chatting to me lad? Go on back over there!"
" I don't know what I'm doing. I-I don't what to say to her."
"Well at least tell me you didn't leve her own."
"No I left her talking to a guy about the latest sales tax scandal."
Ducky raises his eyebrow and thinks for a moment. "You know I once went out with a girl I met at university, on our first date I was so nervous that barely said a word to her, turns out I just needed a bit of liquid courage." He raises his glass of scotch and downs it in one.
"Yeah and how'd that turn out for ya?"
"Oh terrible I ended up talking her ear off and after dessert I puked all over her shoes. Never saw her again after that."
He signals to the bartender for another drink. "Why don't you ask her to dance?"
"But Ducky I don't dance."
He holds the glass up in front of the young man and stares him down, waiting for him to take it.
Timothy sighs and takes the glass looking deeply into the liquid before throwing it back. "Bottoms up." He chokes on the alcohol as it burns down his throat. Ducky pats him on the back.
"Now go and sweep your young lady off of her feet."
He watches McGee leave and approach a beautiful woman in a silver dress and steer her towards the crowded dance floor. He observes for a few moments more and then laughs, making his way back to his seat.
"I don't think you needed to worry my boy, she doesn't dance either."