Title: Everybody Needs Somebody Sometimes
Pairing: None.
Rating: K+
Genre: Gen
Cat: Crack!fic
Spoilers: Slight ones for various season 4 episodes, Stakeout, whichever episode Ziva rates McGee's butt . . .
Warnings: None.
Summary: Tony, McGee and Ziva decide to have a campfire in the squad room and they invite some friends.
Author's Note: A present for channeld's birthday written back in 2009. I told her to give me some random prompts and she gave me pizza, fire, s'mores, parrots and trains. And I managed to work them all into one story. Yeah.
Tony bounced into the squad room, a grin plastered on his face. "It's almost time for the campfire!" he exclaimed, coming up behind Ziva and sticking his face over her shoulder, causing her to bat at him with a hand and McGee to groan across the room. And then he heard . . .
"Squawk! Tony's an idiot! Squawk! McGee is the master! Squawk!"
His head popped up from Ziva's shoulder and he looked around the room, his search ending at McGee's desk, where the younger agent was leaning over, peering into one of his desk drawers and mumbling to it. That wasn't something that usually happened, so Tony crept out to investigate. As he encroached upon McGee's desk, he heard the agent's whispers.
"Quiet, Roscoe! Gibbs does not need to find out I brought a pet to work!"
"Whatcha got down there, Probalicious?" Tony asked, and McGee poked his head up, trying to hide "Roscoe."
"Uh, nothing . . ." he muttered, but then his drawer began to rattle around and make all sorts of horrendous noises, so he grumbled and yanked the drawer open, and out flew . . .
"A parrot!" Ziva exclaimed from her desk, but she didn't stay there for long, instead opting to stand and make her way over to join her two partners. "I did not know you liked birds, McGee!"
He scowled and muttered something to himself as he captured Roscoe by the scruff of his neck and shoved him back into his desk drawer, where he continued to thrash about and cause a general ruckus. "I don't. Not really. I got Roscoe thinking it would be cool to have a parrot and teach him things to say. But," he turned his attention to the drawer again and raised his voice, "someone doesn't know when to shut up!" He turned back towards Tony and Ziva, shaking his head.
They stared back at him.
Finally, after a few awkward moments of what would have been silence had there not been a parrot flopping around in McGee's desk, Tony opened his mouth. "I'm gonna go get the stuff for the campfire." He ran away for the elevator, leaving Ziva alone with McGee.
She stood there for a few moments, then, after looking around to make sure no one was watching, bent conspiratorially over so her face was just inches from McGee's. He quickly pushed himself back from his desk. Ziva raised an eyebrow at him but continued. "I assume that was a ploy to get Tony out of the building, yes?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. "The parrot! Were we truly supposed to believe you have a parrot in your desk drawer?" She let out a chuckle at the ridiculous suggestion.
Now it was McGee's turn to raise an eyebrow. "But I do have a parrot in my desk drawer. You saw it yourself."
Ziva waved his comment away. "Yes, yes, of course. He said Tony was an idiot. True, yes, but I know it was just you throwing your voice." She reached over and pinched his cheek. "You may be cute, but I am much more clever than you, my friend."
"Ow," McGee commented, then rubbed his cheek when Ziva stopped pinching him. "Ziva, I don't know what to tell you. I mean, you saw the parrot . . ."
He was interrupted by the high-pitched whistle like that from a steam engine. Ziva's eyes grew wide and she rushed back to her desk. McGee gave her a strange look and leaned over to open the drawer Roscoe was residing in so as to give him some air and not suffocate him (because though a desk is hardly an ideal place to keep a parrot, McGee was nothing but an animal rights advocate, which is why he attained the parrot in the first place - or so that's what he told the pet store owner, at least, and it wasn't just because she was a cute girl and he was looking for a date because his last few attempts at dating had ended up with his bank account being hijacked and general insanity), then stood up to see what she was up to.
As he approached her desk, he saw her crouched down (unfortunately for him, she was squatting and not bent over - he really missed that view, ever since that stakeout episode . . . I mean, that time when they were on that stakeout, yeah . . .), talking softly to what appeared to be . . .
"Is that a train set?" McGee asked, craning his head to get a better look.
Ziva quickly looked over her shoulder at McGee, glaring at him and protectively hovering over . . . her train set. "He is not just a train set, McGee." She paused for a moment. "His name is Jefferson." She returned her attention to Jefferson, lovingly petting his engine and cooing words of comfort to him.
"You . . . named your train?" McGee asked slowly, considering moving back to his desk, where he at least had a weapon handy.
Ziva turned and stood up, giving him a pointed look. "You named your parrot!" she countered.
Suddenly, McGee turned angry. "Roscoe is a living, breathing creature. He deserves a name, unlike your . . . battery-powered toy over there!"
Ziva's mouth fell open in shock and rage. How dare McGee say such horrific things about her precious Jefferson! Her eyes narrowed into angry slits. "No one talks that way about Jefferson!" she growled, her voice growing louder with every word. It was then that she launched herself at McGee, knocking him back onto his desk. They wrestled around for awhile, and McGee thought of how this really wasn't how he had imagined being tangled up with Ziva on his desk, not in his fantasies, anyway . . . and then, without warning, Ziva hopped off McGee.
McGee nearly kept rolling around on the desk and wrestling with himself until he realized what was going on. He sat up, his hair sticking up in crazy spikes, and looked at Ziva, panting. "Why'd you stop?"
She smoothed out her own wild hair. "I was not behaving like a lady. I apologize." McGee opened his mouth to say something, but she held up a finger to hold him off. "But first, I would like you to apologize to Jefferson."
McGee slumped. "It's a train."
"He is very important to me," Ziva said, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Apologize."
McGee rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, but slogged over to Ziva's desk, squatting down. "Hey," he said, and had to admit he felt a bit silly talking to a train set, but then, he didn't want to be murdered by Ziva, either. "Uh, listen, man, I'm sorry. I know you're not 'just a train.' And uh, yeah. Maybe you and Roscoe can be friends or something? Yeah. Sorry." He stood up and faced Ziva. "There. That better?"
She shook her head and he let out a groan. "No . . . Bend over."
"What? Why?"
"Just do it, McGee," she said, putting on her best threatening face.
He let out a sigh and did as asked, waiting a few moments before he said, "Are you done?"
"Hmm," Ziva said from her spot behind him, where she was simply staring at McGee's butt and making lusty eyes at it. Finally, she said, "Okay. Yes, I am finished."
He straightened and then turned to look at her and she had to avert her eyes back to his face, but she wasn't quick enough. He gave her a look. "You just wanted to look at my butt."
She threw up her arms in frustration at being caught. "Well, can you blame me? I have needs, too, McGee. And Tony is far too hairy for my taste." She made a face at the thought.
"Speaking of Tony . . ." McGee said, and lifted his chin to motion towards the elevator, from where Tony was emerging, carrying a basket filled with a package of marshmallows, some chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers, some sticks, a blow torch and a box of pizza balanced on top of everything.
Ziva turned to look at him. "What is all this, Tony?" she asked upon seeing the stash.
"This," Tony said, depositing everything with a thud onto his desk, "is the materials for our campfire!"
McGee and Ziva shared a dubious look, then turned their attention on Tony again. "I thought this was a metaphorical campfire . . ." McGee said, and received a sound of disbelief from Tony.
"Ha!" the senior agent said, shaking his head and grinning. "Oh, McGigglepants, I do not know the kinds of thoughts that go through your head. A metaphorical campfire!" He started to laugh.
Ziva, meanwhile, was rummaging through Tony's basket, and her eyes were sparkling at the sight of the blow torch in particular, but also the copious amounts of chocolate (she was nothing if not a woman, after all, even if she was deadlier than most). She turned to McGee. "He does have everything in here for a real campfire. Though I do not recall blow torches being common for starting campfires."
Tony shrugged. "It seemed faster than matches. More effective, too. We'll have a nice fire going in no time with that sucker." He grabbed the torch from Ziva's grasp, stroking it gently. "Won't we, Max?"
McGee and Ziva simply looked at each other, then shrugged. They all had their things.
When Gibbs walked in 20 minutes later, he found a wisp of smoke coming from Tony's desk, where his three agents were gathered, a small fire burning in the middle of the desk. He raised an eyebrow and calmly asked, "What the hell is going on here?"
"Hey, Boss," Tony started, standing up, chewing on a slice of pizza. "We're just having a little campfire here. Want a s'more?" He held out a stick with a marshmallow on it to Gibbs.
Gibbs looked at Tony for a moment, then took the stick from Tony, saying, "Only as long as Ziva didn't eat all the chocolate." He gave her a dirty look. She looked sheepish. Clearly this had been an issue before. He toasted the marshmallow for a few moments, then took a couple of graham crackers and some chocolate to make a sandwich and as he chewed on it, asked, "What's with the pizza?"
Tony shrugged. "That was Max's idea."
McGee gave him a look. "Your blow torch suggested you get pizza?"
Tony looked offended. "He has feelings, too, McGee."
Gibbs shook his head and walked to his desk. He just could not understand his team sometimes. As he sat down, he looked fondly at the picture on his desk, of his latest love. Oh, she was a beauty. All curves and smooth lines . . . Yeah, she was all he could want in a boat. The room was silent for a moment, then . . .
"Squawk! Zee-vah! *whistle* Squawk!"
There was a brief moment of silence, then . . .
"McGee! I am going to kill you . . . and your parrot, too!"
THE END!