The bullpen hummed with the usual controlled chaos — phones ringing, keys clacking, and Tony’s voice filling the air like it owned the place.

“McGee, you’re telling me you actually volunteered to go through those financials? You know that’s, like, a week of your life you’ll never get back, right?”

McGee didn’t even look up. “Some of us like solving puzzles, Tony. Not everyone’s afraid of numbers.”

Ziva smirked without looking up from her own screen. “Perhaps that is because not everyone counts on charm alone to do their work.”

Tony clutched his chest. “Ziva, you wound me. I’ll have you know my charm is a vital investigative tool.”

Across the bullpen, Gibbs’ heavy boots echoed down the stairs as he entered, coffee in hand and that signature look that made every agent straighten up immediately. He had that file tucked under his arm, eyes flicking briefly toward the team before heading for his desk—

—and stopping dead.

The file wasn’t there.

He frowned, jaw tightening as he rifled through a few stacks of paperwork. “Where the hell—”

“Lose something, boss?” Tony asked, a little too cheerfully.

“That case file from Petty Officer Rankin,” Gibbs muttered, scanning his desk again. “Had it when I left last night.”

Ziva arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps it is at your house.”

Tony grinned. “Ooo, plot twist — Gibbs forgets something? Do we need to check for signs of head trauma?”

A sharp look from Gibbs silenced him immediately.

But before anyone could say another word, the elevator dinged.

Everyone’s heads turned.

Standing there — glowing faintly under the fluorescent lights, wearing jeans, a soft sweater, and holding a brown envelope against her rounded belly — was you.

“Excuse me,” you said softly, eyes finding Gibbs instantly. “You forgot this.”

Gibbs froze. For the briefest flicker of a moment, his entire demeanor softened — the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he caught himself. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here,” he said, his tone gentle, yet full of something the others had never heard from him before.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, boss? You know the nice lady?”

Ziva’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, studying the way Gibbs took the file from your hand — and how his fingers lingered a beat too long on yours.

You smiled politely. “We’ve… met.”

Ducky’s voice suddenly floated from the mezzanine. “Ah, I see our guest found her way here safely!”

Tony whipped his head toward him. “Guest?”

“She called earlier,” Ducky said cheerfully, descending the stairs. “Said Jethro had left some very important paperwork behind.”

“Ah,” Ziva said knowingly, eyes darting between you and Gibbs. “Very important, indeed.”

McGee blinked, confused. “Wait… did she just call him Jethro?”

Gibbs shot him a warning look. “That’ll be all.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice just enough for only him to hear. “You left it on the kitchen counter. I thought you’d need it before the meeting.”

Gibbs’ lips twitched — that look he only ever gave to people he trusted completely. “You shouldn’t be walking around this much,” he murmured, glancing briefly at your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you said softly. “He’s just making sure I never forget he’s there.”

“He?” Tony repeated, grinning wide. “Boss, you hiding a—”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, voice low and dangerous.

Tony snapped his mouth shut.

Ziva leaned toward McGee, whispering, “She said he. Pregnant?”

McGee’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God—”

You gave them both a small, knowing smile before turning back to Gibbs. “I’ll get out of your hair. Abby said she’d meet me for lunch anyway.”

“Tell her I’ll be down later,” Gibbs said, tone low but affectionate in a way none of them had ever heard.

“Will do.” You smiled at him one more time, warmth in your eyes, before heading toward the elevator.

As the doors closed behind you, the bullpen went utterly silent.

Tony turned, eyes gleaming. “Boss…”

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“DiNozzo.”

Ziva bit back a grin. “Congratulations, Gibbs.”