I was watching Sharif Returns the other day with my brother and his girlfriend – correction, I was trying to watch Sharif Returns, whilst they were sat either side of me, talking, laughing and holding hands, exchanging the occasional kiss whilst oblivious to the fact that I was sat between them and feeling very uncomfortable – when something McGee said caught my attention. Now, I was certain that somebody would have written something about this line, alas, when I scoured the NCIS archive for around this time and a little later, I found no such thing. It may have been there and I simply could not find it, but I looked very hard and saw no reference to the line at all, which surprises me.

As I write this I am drinking a drink that fizzes and tastes like the red gummy bears. I have not had gummy bears in about eight years. That makes me sad. That had no bearing on the story whatsoever; I just thought you might like to know.

From McGee's point of you, a bit of a change, do not know if it worked. I really like this though.

Questions & Answers

"Please, I saw you undressing him with your bedroom eyes." McGee ran Tony's words through his head again, trying to find any other meaning than the obvious to them. He had spent the past hour sat at his desk, considering Tony's tone and facial expression when he had said them, thinking about his partners' recent behaviours, both together and apart, attempting to recall anything out of the ordinary.

He had been sensing an increased amount of tension between them lately, but really, that was not unusual, so much as a regular occurrence – once every so often there would be a fight, one that was bigger than their normal bullpen sparing – or flirting – and one that nobody would want to get in the way of, even if they were permitted, something they were not. He had grown used to not knowing what it was that was going through his partners' minds. They could both be difficult to read, particularly when concerning one another – although there was one painfully obvious thing that even he could see between them – and they both had their secrets, together and apart. It had, when he had first seen them staring at one another, agitated him that they could speak without even bothering to open their mouths. The only times the squad room was silent were when everyone was at home and when they were having one of their silent conversations. Those moments never lasted long – a minute, two tops – but they were a stark contrast to the loud, explosive bantering that filled the air the rest of the time.

But this tension was different, no matter what McGee told himself. It was serious, heavy and solemn. He could see the distracted look Ziva got in her eyes when he answered his phone, the way she would either try and pry, or turn away and bury her head in her work. Both resulted in the same tightening of lips, clenching of fists. And both went noticed by Tony, even if he would never admit to seeing it. He watched as her mood changed so rapidly around him, flicking from flirting to angry to caring to angry to allusive and back again, time after time as they stood nose to nose, debating over whether the wife did it.

He had not been specifically looking to Tony's face when he had made the comment, he had not known he should have been focusing on it so much, that Tony's reaction to their playful discussion whilst waiting for Gibbs to start the interrogation would plague and torment him for the rest of the day, sitting at the back of his mind and popping to the forefront whenever nothing else kept him occupied. He had been more focused on Ziva's reaction to his own remark, along with keeping an eye on the guy sat at the table, behind the glass, and he only had two eyes, after all.

But his tone of voice, well, he needed no third eye, or even a third ear, to hear that. Hear the slight hint of jealousy, masked by the jibe itself and the humour that he piled on. How loud the jealousy actually was, McGee did not know, but he knew that it was there, fighting to shout out at her. Whether she had sensed it was another point the younger agent was uncertain of, but if the slight flinch he thought he had seen in her reflection was anything to go by she had. Of course, it could have just been him seeing the things he wanted to see, after all, Ziva David did not flinch, particularly not at petty little comments thrown at her by her partner, petty little comments that she heard frequently every day and knew meant nothing.

And that of course brought him back to the overall meaning of the words. Of course, he knew what Tony had meant. That much was obvious, and he was not as socially, or sexually, deprived as Tony declared, and the words were simple. There were no metaphors – other than sexual innuendos and euphemisms – no cunning literary tricks with Tony. He was purely and simply a say what you mean kind of guy. Why use a thousand words when a movie quote would do? No, Tony was not an author, he had no readers that he must please with clever use of punctuation and exciting vocabulary, no, he was just a man, a simply man sometimes, a complicated man others, who said what he thought, whether it was the right time and place, whether it was using an appropriate choice of words. Tony had no filter. He said the first thing that came into his head. Most of the time, it was juvenile, some of the time it was worth while, rarely was it truly profound.

And these words could hardly be considered profound. But that still left the biggest question of all unanswered. The one that really bothered him. The one that he was not stupid enough to ask Tony. And he was certainly not stupid enough to ask Ziva – he was not suicidal, after all. It was the one answer he desired most of all, more than the answer to life, the universe and everything – 42 was satisfactory for that one for now – more than what they spoke about when they said nothing aloud. It was the one question that was driving him crazy, crazier than the questions on any case had driven him. It was possibly the most important question he could think of at the moment, and also the most dangerous, because if he asked, or if he somehow discovered the answer, his life was most certainly at risk. Tony would shoot him. Ziva would…well, he did not really want to think what Ziva would do to him, but he knew it would be painful – and fatal. Gibbs would probably join in on the fun. Abby would too, for not telling him sooner.

And yet for all his self preservation he could not help but want to know.

How did Tony know what Ziva's bedroom eyes looked like?

This is short, sorry about that.

The last line was started this all, but I do not like it. Hmm. I do not know if I got McGee's voice right either.

On another, possibly slightly sadder note, there are only four more fictions until my 50th. Hold on, hold on, before we get too excited about that, I still have 9 chapters to write, as well as five chapters to finish, before that is done, and I do not know how long that will take, and since I have promised myself that that will be my 50th… I will still be updating anything that I already have uploaded and un-complete, such as Dead Reckoning, Routines, It Takes Two, Brown on Green. I know it may feel like I have forgotten some of them, I have not, I just have had no inspiration for them. For Dead Reckoning particularly, I am just stuck on one line, and then it will be done, but this one line is bugging me and I am grasping at thin, polystyrene tubes with it. Really. Desperation is starting to set in with it. But only four more one shots. Sorry about that. Keep an eye on everything else though.

For my reference: 45th NCIS fic.