Title: Luck of the Irish?
Pairing: McGee/Ziva
Rating: K+
Genre: Het
Cat: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: On St. Patrick's Day, does McGee's heritage lead to good luck or bad?
Author's Note: Written for the Kiss Me, I'm Irish Challenge on NFA. It's verrry fluffy. ;D
"Top o' the mornin' to ye, McGee!" Tony crowed in a false Irish accent as McGee walked into the bullpen. The younger man gave his partner a weird look at the overly bright smile on his face.
"Tony," McGee said, still watching him as he sat down at his desk. "What has you so happy this morning?"
Tony gave him a look that said he couldn't believe he didn't know already, then let out a laugh. "The most Irish person here doesn't recognize his own holiday?" He continued to laugh in disbelief, as McGee frowned.
"St. Patrick's Day is hardly my holiday, Tony," McGee said, not looking at the other man as he typed on his computer. "Just because my last name is Irish in origin doesn't mean I go all out when it comes to the day."
Tony shook his head and screwed up his face as he listened to McGee's words. "I worry for you sometimes, McLeprechaun. Do you even know how lucky you are today?"
McGee finally gave in and looked over at Tony, his expression bored. "In what way, Tony?"
Tony stood up and made his way to McGee's desk. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'Kiss me, I'm Irish'? Today is the one day you can get away with using it and not be charged with sexual harassment! And considering your past record with the ladies, I'd be all over the opportunity."
McGee glared at him. "Thank you, Tony, but I think I would rather have someone kiss me because they enjoyed my personality, not because a day on the calendar says they have to."
"Suit yourself, McLonely. Just don't come crying to me when you're covered in bruises from all the repeated pinchings you're bound to get for being a St. Patrick's Day scrooge."
McGee opened his mouth to respond, then realized the futility of it and shut it again, shaking his head at Tony's antics. As he turned his head back to his computer, his gaze stopped at Ziva's desk. She'd been sitting there throughout their bantering, yet hadn't said anything. He thought it was a bit unusual, as she usually took any chance she could to side with him against Tony. Maybe she wasn't feeling well. He'd have to check on her later, when they had a moment alone.
"DiNozzo, McGee." Gibbs' voice broke into McGee's thoughts and he turned his eyes away from Ziva's desk, hoping she hadn't caught him staring and gotten the wrong impression. "Go check with Abby. Said she's got something. I'm going to see Ducky."
Gibbs stood from his desk, walking to the elevator, while Tony followed him, tossing a, "You coming, McGee?" behind him as he went.
McGee met his eyes and gave a short nod. "Uh, give me a minute. I'll catch up."
Tony waved him away and continue to the elevator, while McGee stayed behind, waiting until both the older agents were out of sight before walking over to Ziva's desk. She continued to work for a moment, until he cleared his throat. When she looked up, she seemed surprised to see him standing there.
"Yes?" she asked, and he shifted, suddenly unsure.
"Uh, just wanted to check and see if you were feeling alright," he said, and she gave him a curious look. He shrugged. "You had a perfect opportunity to rag on Tony, but you didn't. I just thought maybe you didn't feel well."
"I feel fine, McGee," she responded, and McGee studied her carefully. Was she blushing? No, that would be. . . "Tony is probably waiting for you. You should go."
He nodded, then reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder, saying, "Okay, but if you need something. . ."
Ziva gave a soft laugh. "I'm fine. I promise. Thank you for your concern."
He smiled at her. "Anytime, Ziva." As he walked toward the elevator, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was different with Ziva today, and he vowed to himself that he would figure out what it was before the end of the day.
At her desk, Ziva watched as he walked away, her eyes bright with hope. Things would change between them today; she just needed to find the right time.
When McGee arrived in Abby's lab, he stopped and raised an eyebrow. Abby was decked out in a short, shiny green dress with a poufy skirt, and wore striped green tights and a pair of green knee-high boots.
"I see you didn't forget about St. Patrick's Day," he joked, and she spun to face him, a glare on her face.
She stomped toward him and stopped about half a foot in front of him. Then reached over and pinched him.
"Ow!" McGee rubbed at the spot she'd pinched. "What was that for?"
"You're not wearing green," she said, her eyes narrowed. McGee glanced at Tony, who lifted his hands in a, 'I told you so,' motion. "And Tony said you were being pretty Grinch-y about the holiday. Or, well, maybe not Grinch-y, since he's green and you're not wearing any green, but you're being a scrooge!"
McGee just stared at her. "You done, Abbs?"
She just continued to glare at him before reaching over and pinching him again, leaving McGee yelping once more as Abby returned to her station and gave them their results.
By the end of the day, McGee had to lower himself carefully into his desk chair, as Abby had seemingly informed everyone McGee came into contact with that day that he was violating the rules of St. Patrick's Day and they should all pinch him for his ignorance.
Ziva looked over at his desk, but waited until Tony and Gibbs both left for the night before speaking. "Are you alright, McGee?" she asked, and McGee looked up, surprised. Ever since he'd asked her this morning if she was feeling okay, she had almost seemed to be avoiding him.
"Yeah, just a little sore." He shifted, grimacing and rubbing at a spot on his hip. "I think Abby got everyone to do her pinching for her."
Ziva looked mildly horrified. "Pinching?" She stood from her desk, making her way to his desk with a concerned look on her face. "Why would anyone do such a thing? You have not been acting in a way to deserve such treatment." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, and McGee looked up at her, trying to read her emotions.
"Ziva, are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, and she looked back down at him, her eyes wide.
"Yes!" she insisted, and McGee narrowed his eyes at her. There it was again – the tint to her cheeks that suggested she was embarrassed about something. But what?
"Did I do something to offend you?" he asked. They were alone, and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave with Ziva acting this way; if he upset her, he wanted to know. "Because it feels like you've been avoiding me today, and if I did something. . ."
Ziva reached a hand down to cover his and when he looked up, any trace of a blush was gone from her face. She smiled at him. "Could we talk . . . somewhere private?"
He found himself nodding blankly as he stood and followed her from the squad room, still confused about what exactly was going on. Ziva led them into a stairwell primarily used for emergency exits, so it was unlikely they'd be interrupted.
"What's going on?" he asked once the heavy door thudded shut behind them.
Ziva turned bashful for a moment and when she started talking, it came out in a rush. "Well, Abby had informed me of all the traditions that came with St. Patrick's Day a few days ago, so I came in today with an idea in mind, and then you started arguing with Tony and I knew I could not do anything about it then, because it would not seem genuine, and. . ."
"Ziva, whoa, slow down," McGee said, placing a hand on her arm and making her look up at him. One side of his mouth quirked up. "You're starting to sound like Abby." She returned his smile, but still looked shy. He couldn't help but think how cute she looked, and had to push that thought away as he continued his line of questioning. "So what was this idea of yours?"
"Tony said it earlier," she said, her voice soft. "It is a tradition on St. Patrick's Day to kiss someone if they are Irish." She glanced up at him, her eyes shining.
He stared back down at her, not sure if he was hearing her right. "You . . . want to kiss me?"
She tucked some hair behind her ear, unable to stop smiling. "I finally had an excuse to do it, and I could always pass it off as following tradition if you were not interested."
McGee still looked a bit baffled as he looked down at her, a slight smile on his face. "So why didn't you just do it earlier, rather than telling me about it now?"
Ziva shrugged. "I felt as though I should be honest with you." She glanced up at him, a twinkle in her eye. "And you are not wearing green. I believe that is part of the rules."
His smile turned into a full-blown grin. "Well, I'm still Irish. Doesn't that count for something?"
Ziva laughed and took a step closer to him. "I think I can make an exception," she said, and brought a hand up to cup the side of his face as she raised herself on tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as she did so.
She intended for the kiss to be soft and short, but McGee had other ideas, as he deepened the kiss, reaching behind her with one arm and pulling her closer to him. Ziva gave a happy sigh and brought her other hand up to the other side of his face, continuing the kiss for another moment before pulling away, nearly laughing at the dazed look on his face.
"Besides," Ziva said, continuing her earlier statement as though they hadn't just kissed, "someone needed to be nice, after all those pinchings you received."
He gave her a cheeky smile. "Yeah, about that. So, Abby thought it would be funny to pinch my butt. . ."
He trailed off and Ziva started to giggle, burying her face in his chest. Once her giggles had subsided, she mumbled against his shirt, "No, I will not kiss it all better, McGee."
"Damn, and here I thought I had gotten lucky," he said, and Ziva lifted her head to look him in the eye, raising an eyebrow at him. He looked down and gave her a genuine smile. "But now that I think about it, this is the luckiest St. Patrick's Day I've ever had."
Ziva grinned as she leaned up to give him another kiss, muttering, "Next year, do yourself a favor and just wear green."
THE END!