Gibbs

Gibbs hated interns. They were either bright, overly sensitive kids always trying to please him, calling him "sir" or sucking up to the man, or they were bright college kids who thought they were "the big deal" and were excited to fire a gun. What he didn't expect was an actual boy. About sixteen. Not even of age. Probably didn't even have a license. And yet, there you were. "Are you... on a field trip or something?" The special agent searched for a school T-shirt, a backpack, oh no, even a lunchbox—but found nothing. An NCIS visitor's badge was dangling from your clothes.

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