Title: Charades
Rating: G
Genre: General/Comedy
Pairings: n/a
Characters: Tony, McGee, Ziva, Abby, Palmer
Summary: The team is involved in a heated game of charades.
Author's Note: This is my first NCIS fic and my first in a long time. Please be kind, but enjoy! Also beta'ed by ncisabbylover! Thank you!
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The freak snowstorm subsided hours ago, but still, there they were, sitting on the floor in Abby's lab, preparing for yet another round.
It was all tied up. The next point would win the round. Tony, Tim, and Ziva were still looking for their first win. They'd decided to add some stakes to this round seeing as Abby and Palmer were getting tired of winning because of the rest of the team's lack of enthusiasm; so the losers of this game would have to buy the winner's lunch for the rest of the month.
Abby had created a program (after a slow day in the lab) in hopes for a day like this; it randomly chose clichés, sayings, movie titles, and verbs.
Tony's competitive side had come out and he was anxious to win. As Ziva stepped into the hastily made privacy booth to obtain her clue he began to get nervous, because as everyone knew, things tended to get lost in translation.
"This isn't good, McGee," Tony said as he saw the confused look on Ziva's face. Apparently Abby also coded the program to prevent cheating when the clue wasn't something they wanted. Tony had found that out by personal experience.
"Give her a chance. She's gotten better." Tim winked at Ziva as she took her spot at the front of the room.
"Ready, Ziva?" Abby asked.
She took a deep breath and nodded; Abby pressed the button to begin the timer.
Ziva signaled that the clue is three words long. First word… She began grabbing items within her reach.
"Grab! Horde! Bottles! Glutton…?" Tim and Tony yelled their guesses.
Ziva shook her head and abandoned that plan. Hastily, she put the items in a pile on a desk and grabbed Abby's half empty Caf-Pow, handed it to Abby and then proceeded to snatch it back from her.
Tim and Tony cocked their heads in confusion. Exasperated, Ziva repeated the action… offering Abby the Caf-Pow and then taking it back. Over and over she repeated the motion, begging them with her eyes to understand.
It was like watching a ping-pong match. Then the wheels started to turn in Tim's head.
"Give and take!"
Ziva nodded but emphasized the take portion away.
"First word… TAKE!"
Ziva smiled, touched her nose in acknowledgement, and handed the Caf-Pow to a smiling Abby.
"Thirty seconds," Palmer announced.
Ziva signaled that she was on the third word. Picking up a pencil she pointed at the tip.
"Graphite?!" Tony shouted.
Ziva shook her head and indicated for him to elaborate.
"What? It's a pencil and that's the end you write with."
She tossed the pencil over her shoulder, searching for a new way to convey this clue, even though it made no sense to her.
"Fifteen seconds," Abby informed with a twinkle in her eye.
Ziva took another five seconds to compose her thoughts then spotted exactly what she needed, the periodic table of elements. Making a beeline for it, she pointed to the table insistently.
"Chemistry! Elements!"
She ignored all the wrong answers, listening only for the right one. She reached the poster and pointed to one specific element, Pb.
"Lead?" Tim questioned.
"Five seconds."
Ziva was very excited as Tony and Tim looked at each other, confused. They had a telepathic conversation.
Take and lead. What saying has that?
They looked at Ziva and were about to open their mouth when the buzzer went off. Palmer and Abby leaped from their seats in celebration.
"Take the led. Take the led." Ziva revealed to them.
"What? That makes no sense?" Tony growls.
"That is what I thought, but I figured it was just one of your weird American sayings."
It dawned on McGee. "Oh! 'Take the Lead.'"
"Now that makes more sense," says Tony.
"How does led become lead?"
"It's the nuisance of the English language, Ziva. Short vowels, long vowels, homonyms, homophones, and all that good stuff."
"How long have you been in this country? You couldn't possibly pick up that some words are different in some context."
"I am sorry, Tony. I have never heard the saying."
During all this bickering, Jimmy and Abby were in the background planning their meals for the rest of the month.
Jimmy cleared his throat and the three stopped their argument and looked at him. The confidence he had gained quickly faded when all of their eyes locked on him.
"Um… Abby has something to tell you." He ran behind her.
"You're such a scaredy-cat, Palmer." She snatched the paper from his hands and presented it to Tony. "Here are our orders for the next three weeks."
Tony took it and read, his eyes widening with each order. He handed the paper to McGee as Ziva moved to get a look too, stepping closer to Abby, and McGee's face softens as he begged, "Look, can't we talk about this? Best two out of three?"
"Really, Tony? You guys haven't won a game in…" Abby looked at her watch and was surprised.
"Is it really 3am?"
"Abby, don't change the subject."
Abby looked around. "Where's Gibbs and Ducky? And when did the snowstorm end?"
Everyone else followed her eyes and settled on the empty chairs that Ducky and Gibbs occupied eight hours earlier content on watching rather than participating.
"They apparently snuck out." Tony responded nonchalantly. "Now, back to the matter at hand. One more game, Abs. Double or nothing."
Ziva and Tim smacked him.
Abby smiled. "They're right. You came close this time, but you haven't won a single game. What makes you think this new round will be different? Plus, I'm a little tired and am just fine with my three weeks of free lunch. What about you, Jimmy?"
"I concur," he says with a smile.
With that, Abby grabbed her stuff, took Palmer's arm, and walked out.
Tony turned to Ziva and Tim. "Ziva, you're paying for week one."
"Why me?"
"Because your lack of understanding of the English language caused us to lose."
"Yeah, and you have a great handle on it as well, Tony," Tim interjected sarcastically.
"I don't need any of your back talk, Probie. You should have come up with the other pronunciation."
"That's it end of story. Ziva, you have week one. Probie, you have week two. I get week three." He turns and walks out.
Ziva and McGee watch him for a second and then glance down at the order. The most expensive orders were at the beginning. They make eye contact and simultaneously made for the door, protesting. They reached Tony just as the elevator doors were closing.
Without saying a word, they silently agreed to get Tony back, somehow, someway.