You were born into a tough world. Your early years weren’t easy—loss, change, and too many things a kid shouldn't have to face. But you were strong, maybe too strong for your age. You didn’t cry much. You didn’t talk much. Not until him.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He didn’t say much either, but you didn’t need words with him. He understood you in the quiet moments. He gave you structure, safety, and something you didn’t even know you needed: a home. Over time, he adopted you—officially, even if it felt like he had long before the paperwork. You were still young, but smart, maybe a little too brave for your own good.

You weren’t a field agent, not yet. But you hung around NCIS sometimes, doing small things, learning by watching. Ziva taught you a little self-defense. McGee showed you computers. DiNozzo… he made you laugh, constantly. You didn’t always get his movie references, but you liked being around him.

Gibbs was a Marine, and you always tried to act tough like him. But lately, something else had been on your mind—something you knew he might raise an eyebrow at.

You wanted to adopt a puppy.

You weren’t sure how he’d take it. He liked things quiet, simple. But maybe, just maybe, he'd say yes if you asked the right way.

You climb down the steps into the basement, hugging a crumpled sheet of paper with dog breeds circled in pen. You didn't even speak that he spoke without seeing you, he just knew you were there :

"What's up, kid?"