DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.
A/N: This story is loosely based on something that happened to a friend of mine on a road trip. Contains a reference to my other NCIS story "Like a Martian," but you don't necessarily need to read that to understand this one.
Three soggy federal agents trooped over to a car in the parking lot of Rock Creek Park. McGee took off his ballcap and wrung it out. He, Ziva, and Tony were soaked to the skin after spending a few hours slogging through a crime scene.
"I just bought these shoes!" Tony complained, taking out his pocketknife to scrape copious amounts of mud off them.
The youngest agent stuffed his clammy hands deeper into the pockets of his windbreaker and began to shiver violently.
"Tony, give me the keys," said Ziva impatiently. "McGee is about to find his death."
"You mean catch his death, Zee-vah," Tony corrected.
"Just give me the keys!"
Tony lobbed them to the Israeli, who unlocked the car, started it, and turned on the heat. McGee practically dove into the passenger seat before Tony could call shotgun. He rubbed his hands together and held them in front of the vent. Tony and Ziva remained outside for a moment; him swearing about his shoes and her squeezing as much water as she could out of her braid. Tony knocked on the window.
"Hey, McGee!" he called. "Get in the back!"
"No way! I was here first!"
"I always ride shotgun. You know that, McPuddlejumper."
McGee was not at all in the mood to be bossed around by Tony today. "Look, I'm not getting up," he said, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest. "I'm exhausted and, as you know, I fell in the creek again."
"Yeah, you seem to be pretty good at that, McBaywatch," said Tony. "How many times has that happened this year?"
Ziva rolled her eyes. Those two could be so childish that it made her crazy. "We are leaving now," she announced. "I suggest that you get in the backseat, Tony, unless you want to walk back to the Navy Yard."
Tony wisely decided it wouldn't be a good idea to argue with Ziva and folded his lanky frame into the back of the car. The vehicle was oddly silent as Ziva pulled out of the parking lot. Tony knew it was insensitive, but he really wished people in this town could find a place other than Rock Creek Park to kill someone or be murdered, especially on days like today. Raw temperature, high winds, pouring rain, and all-around miserable. Even worse, they had nothing to show for their time spent combing the park; McGee was willing to bet any evidence had been washed downstream well before their arrival.
"You are all right, yes?" Ziva asked McGee. "You did not hurt yourself when you fell?" She knew McGee would never admit to being in pain unless he was cornered; he didn't want Tony mocking him as a weakling.
"I'm fine," he assured her, leaning back in his seat to let the heater's warmth wash over him. His cell phone chirped. "McGee." he answered.
"You guys have any luck?" Gibbs asked from the other end of the line.
McGee shook his head even though his boss couldn't see him. "No, boss. We walked along that creek bed for hours. No drag marks, footprints, or anything else connected to the petty officer's murder." He left out the part about tripping over an exposed tree root and landing in the water.
"At least you were thorough. Hopefully Duck'll be able to give us somethin' to go on after the autopsy."
"Okay, well, we're on our way back right now," said McGee.
"It's nasty out there, so drive careful," cautioned Gibbs. "Did you end up working through lunch?"
McGee confirmed they had.
"It's fine by me if you guys wanna stop someplace on the way here. There's not much we can do about the case right now and you guys are no good to me if you're not sharp." Gibbs knew that unless he explicitly gave permission for a break, McGee would assume they had to come right back to the office and wouldn't ask whoever was driving to stop. The young agent would then immediately start working until Gibbs sent them home, never saying a word about needing to eat.
"Thanks, boss. We should be there soon." They said their good-byes and McGee hung up. "Hey, Ziva? I told Gibbs we never took our lunch break and he said we could stop for something."
Ziva honked the horn and swore in what was probably Hebrew at someone who tried to come into their lane without signaling. "People do not know how to drive in the rain." She turned to McGee. "What was that you said?"
"Gibbs told us we could stop and get food." McGee repeated.
"I think that is probably a good idea."
"Me too." he agreed, rubbing his stomach. "I'm really hungry."
"Starving like a Martian?" Ziva asked.
"Definitely," McGee chuckled.
Ziva smiled. "Then I will look for a restaurant, my little Martian."
"Hey!" Tony protested from the backseat. "I thought I was your little Martian."
Ziva did not comment on this. Tony drummed his fingers against the top of the door, a slightly hurt look on his face. Despite his hunger, McGee found himself being lulled by the sound of the windshield wipers. He rested his head against the passenger window and began dozing lightly. This was nothing short of a miracle given that Ziva was driving. Maybe she was behaving herself due to the poor weather. They'd left the rural roads near Rock Creek Park behind and were now in a more populated area.
Without warning, the former Mossad assassin cut several people off in order to get into the left turn lane. There was no traffic light above the lane, so Ziva decided to go ahead and turn. Tony felt carsick and started muttering all the prayers he could remember. Brakes in the oncoming traffic squealed. McGee was woken up by the sound of the car's tires fishtailing on the wet pavement. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut again.
Ziva drove over a large bump into a parking lot and unceremoniously slammed the vehicle into 'park.' Tony stopped praying. McGee cautiously opened his eyes and glanced around. His jaw dropped; he couldn't believe Ziva's reason for playing demolition derby.
"Ziva," he said, his voice almost squeaky with indignation, "you almost killed us to get to Wendy's?"
"I think I need to throw up," muttered Tony.
"Do not vomit in the car," Ziva said sharply, pointing a finger at him.
Tony fumbled for the door handle, hoping that being outside in the cool air would ease his nausea.
For the second time that day, McGee repeated himself. "You almost killed us to get to Wendy's."
"I am sorry, McGee," said Ziva. "I did not mean to frighten you. I am also very hungry and I enjoy their spicy chicken sandwiches."
"Apology accepted." McGee could hardly hold a grudge; sometimes he wasn't exactly rational on an empty stomach.
Once they were inside the restaurant, Tony's appetite seemed to return in full force. He ended up ordering the largest Baconator on the menu with matching soda and fries, plus a cup of chili. McGee got his usual: a double cheeseburger with no onions, large fries, and a medium soda. Ziva, of course, ordered a spicy chicken sandwich combos. They sat down in a booth with Tony and McGee on one side and Ziva on the other. The hot meal almost made up for the fact that they were in wet clothes.
When they finished eating, the agents tipped the empty sandwich wrappers and fry cartons from their trays into the garbage. Tony and Ziva walked briskly to the car. Neither one of them noticed McGee had taken a detour to the men's room to see if they had an automatic hand dryer that he could use on his socks.
"I'm driving," Tony announced to Ziva. "I don't wanna puke up my lunch."
Meanwhile, back at Wendy's, McGee emerged from the bathroom, socks still uncomfortably wet. It had been too much to hope that they'd have a hand dryer. He could hear rain beating down on the restaurant's roof. When he walked outside, the car was no longer in its parking space.
"I don't believe this," he muttered, patting his pockets for his phone.
After a few miles down the road, Ziva remarked, "McGee is very quiet back there."
"I'm sure the Elf Lord's fine," Tony said. "He's probably just takin' a nap."
Ziva glanced over her shoulder and her jaw dropped. "McGee is not fine."
"What do you mean?" asked Tony. "He's right-" The words died in his throat when he checked the rearview mirror and saw the empty backseat. "Uh-oh."
Tony's phone started ring. He didn't have to check the caller ID to know who it was. He made a U-turn to head back in the direction of the restaurant. When they arrived, McGee was standing out front. He was getting rained on and looked very grumpy. He reclaimed his spot in the backseat.
"I cannot believe you left McGee at Wendy's!" said Ziva, delivering a solid slap to the back of Tony's head.
"Ow!" he yelped. "How was I supposed to know he wasn't in the car?"
"Tony, I went to the bathroom for two seconds and you guys were gone."
"I thought you were back there sleeping again!"
"McGee, we are very, very sorry about this," Ziva apologized. "We did not mean for it to happen."
McGee understood that people made mistakes, but still...you were always supposed to keep track of your partner. "Ziva, I know you guys wouldn't just ditch me. But do me a favor, okay? Let's please do a headcount next time we go somewhere."
"Sure thing, McDad." said Tony, reaching out to mess up the younger agent's hair.
THE END