Title: The Audition
Summary: The famous actor, Tony DiNozzo, has his eye on the role of a lifetime: Liam MacGregor in Deep Six. When he shows up at NCIS to meet the author of his favorite novel, what could possible go wrong? For Tim McGee, just about everything. AU. Tim and Tony friendship; Gen with some read between the lines McNozzo. Already complete, one chapter per day.
Rating: Teen for violence, language
Spoilers/Warnings: General series spoilers. Minor violence and mayhem. Language.
Author's Note:This was written for the Reverse Bang challenge on LJ. Without the wonderful penumbria's art, the story would never have come to fruition. She created a beautiful piece of art that got my creative juices flowing and this story would not exist without her. She also made an extra piece of art that brought one of my favorite parts of the story to life. Without her feedback and support, this would never have existed.
This is a true AU. Apparently, I'm still on my kick. This is set somewhere in the earlier seasons (likely around 5 - 6). Tony is a Hollywood megastar with numerous blockbusters under his belt (think a younger Bruce Willis or Bradley Cooper), while Tim is an agent/writer with his book up for a movie deal.
Hope you enjoy. As always, any and all feedback is apprecaited
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HOLLYWOOD – Fans of Thom E. Gemcity's DEEP SIX book will be excited to hear that the long-awaited movie adaptation was finally greenlit for production last week. Rumors are running rampant over who will be cast as the lead, Liam MacGregor. It is being speculated (by sources reliable to this reporter) that Hollywood heartthrob and megastar, Tony DiNozzo, is being considered for the leading role.
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9:34am – A Tuesday in October – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Bullpen –
Supply and inventory reports for office supplies appear in rapid-fire succession across Tim McGee's computer screen. He dips deeper into the secure Navy server just long enough to retrieve the past six month's ordering history for the Norfolk base.
I don't know why we didn't just wait for the warrant.
Paper clips and rubber bands seem so far below his paygrade—and his skillset—these days. After years of working heinous murders and kidnappings, the three months spent hunting down rerouted ballpoint pens and AWOL sailors has cost Tim his sense of urgency—and most of his sanity.
He almost finds himself praying for a murder. Almost.
I bet the rest of the team has to feel the same way.
"Do you have anything yet, McGee?" Senior Field Agent Carolyn Bullock barks.
His ears flush. "I'm getting there, ma'am."
Her huff that tells him that he isn't working fast enough, that he never works fast enough.
She stands in the middle of the bullpen with her hands on her hips. Her steel grey eyes focus on the plasma as though she could will Tim's information onto it. Her taut, short body is poised to strike—and rip his head off—if he even breathes a word that isn't related to results. He wishes he had the balls to tell her that he needs the help, that he can't cross reference all these pens and pencils alone.
But he isn't one to speak up, especially when it involves ratting out Ziva David. Across the bullpen, she pretends to be hard at work on the project Tim requested. But he can tell by the way her eyes narrow at her computer screen that she isn't bothering to double-check the counts of how many paper clips lie in the Naval coffers right now.
She's probably comparing notes on the best way to kill people with her assassin friends.
Making a face, he turns back to his computer just in time to notice that someone from NCIS Cybercrimes is tracking his attack.
"Shit," he mutters to himself.
Tim scrambles to post a dummy IP address to confuse the white hat. Then he closes out the connection, hoping to hell and back that the basement dwellers don't discover that the attacker works upstairs. As soon as he is done, he sends everything he found to Abby so she can do Ziva's job.
He shoots her a quick e-mail, I owe you big time.
Her reply comes instantaneously, You bet your sweet ass, you do.
He slumps back in his seat and takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He shouldn't have come so close to being caught. Hell, he shouldn't have even raised any alarm bells. He manages to regularly poke around undetected in the CIA and NSA databases. And now, he is alerting the state school graduates in Cybercrimes to his activities while cracking codes that he wrote.
Without a real case, I'm going soft.
When Carolyn turns around, her chestnut hair just grazes the bit of collarbone peeking out of her sensible, button-down shirt. Her eyes laser on him. Tim tends to forget that Carolyn is beautiful in that 'woman who could use you up without a second thought' kind of way until she looks at him like that.
Tim loses his breath.
"Finally find something, McGee?" she asks.
"Close, ma'am." He leaves out the part about getting tagged by Cybercrimes. "I just need to cross reference the supply numbers. If I could get some help…" he smiles at her hopefully "…it would go a whole lot faster."
With a disinterested nod, Carolyn heads to her desk. "I'll start with the background checks on the sailors who do the ordering."
Tim bites his lip. "I haven't gotten that far, Bullock. I just got the orders transferred to my computer. We still don't know who – "
"That's it? I thought you could - " she waves her hand dismissively, obviously not understanding anything that he does " – make the computer do it for you."
His cheeks grow hot. "Accessing the files took longer than I thought. Then I had to – "
"Just tell me what you need me to do."
"Cross-check what's listed in the store room against the supply orders. I pulled the past six months. If we each take a few, we'll be done before lunch. Then – "
Carolyn smiles. "We'll get the dirtbag in 'cuffs so I won't miss my dinner date again. I'll take the most recent two months. McGee, you take the middle two. And Ziva, you're on the first two. Got it?"
Ziva sets her jaw. "I will get to it."
Tim makes a mental note to run her two months when he finishes his own. Sighing, he dives back into the number crunching and cross referencing. Scores of manila file folders, paper clips, and loose leaf paper went missing in June and July. He still has no idea why the fuck anyone would be bothered to steal so many office supplies unless they were opening their own Office Depot.
Before long, his cell phone trills. His heart lifts at the thought that Abby finished everything for them, that Carolyn might actually be right about them leaving work before dinnertime.
The screen flashes with a text from Lindy Crenshaw, his literary agent.
She must have some big news about my book! I still can't believe they're turning it into a movie!
Tim hides the phone under his desk as though Ziva and Carolyn could read it clear across the bullpen.
Lindy's text pops up, Have I got a surprise for you, Mr. McGee.
His heart plummets.
What the hell does that mean?
Did the studio drop his book adaptation from next year's Christmas Day line-up? Did the new director back out like the last one? Could his next book offer be off the table with his publisher?
Or maybe the studio finally decided to offer him and Lindy more money like she demanded.
Yes, that has to be it!
Excitement gets the better of him and Tim struggles to compose himself. His fingers still shake as he composes his text, That's great, Lindy. What's going on?
When she doesn't reply instantly, he fights the urge to hurl his phone.
Across the bullpen, Carolyn perks up. "Was that Abby?" Tim shakes his head. "Was it case related?" Again, he shakes his head. "Personal crisis?" Once again, no. "Then back to work, McGee."
He turns back to his computer. "On it, ma'am."
With a self-satisfied smirk, Carolyn turns back to her computer. Ziva huffs a laugh without looking up from her e-mails.
Every part of Tim wishes that Carolyn would snap her fingers and yell for Ziva to get to work too. But they share a bond forged by too-much estrogen, radical feminism and a burning hatred of all men who aren't Gibbs. He also suspects that the Carolyn is just afraid of the Ziva as everyone else. Despite all of Carolyn's posturing and grand-standing, when push comes to shove, she only ever shoves Tim.
Someday, he'll tell Carolyn where she can stick her orders. Someday. Just not today.
Without a second thought, he trudges through his work. He keeps one eye on his phone as covertly as possible. Whenever Carolyn catches him, he just smiles apologetically and mouths, Waiting on Abby.
She probably doesn't believe him, but who the hell cares? His book is being turned into a movie and right now, he just has to know what his agent's surprise is.
He fights the urge to bombard Lindy with texts for hours.
The morning plods along until right before lunch, Carolyn and Ziva take a vote for who gets to run to the deli on the corner. As always, Tim gets handed a complex list of organic tofu wraps, side salads, and kale chips. If he is lucky, he'll steal a few minutes to stop by the Chinese place on the way. But in the end, he is always thankful for a few moments to escape the orange walls and estrogen overload.
Just as he shrugs on his trench coat, the elevator doors ding open.
Director Leon Vance's voice carries all the way to the bullpen. Based on his tone, he is probably entertaining an ambassador or a head of state or trying to figure out how much ass he can kiss. "…as you already know. Our best and brightest agents are part of the Major Crimes Response Team or for short, the – "
"MCRT," an unfamiliar male voice interrupts.
Vance laughs, a little fake, a little forced. "Very good. I'm glad to see that you've been paying attention on my tour."
"What can I say? I did a lot of research before I got here."
Tim peers over his cubicle wall to stare at the tall, dark-haired man conversing with Vance by the elevator. The man wears a black designer suit with a sheen that makes it glow underneath the overhead lights like it's from another world. A smart grey wool overcoat is slung over the crook of his arm.
When the man glances over, Tim thinks he recognizes the stranger's good-looks and shit-eating grin, but he can't place them for the life of him. He spends so much time staring at mugshots that's all he recognizes anymore, but the stranger looks like he'd fit in better on a movie poster than the Most Wanted Wall.
Vance nods. "Well, that concludes the formal tour of NCIS. Would you like to meet the team?"
The man's smile broadens. "You bet, Director."
After Vance gestures for the man to follow, the pair move into the bullpen. Carolyn glances up with anger storming across her features…until she seems to recognize the man. Almost instantly, her mouth gapes and her face turns as red as her shirt. Even Ziva looks interested in the stranger.
Were they expecting a witness that no one told me about?
Suddenly, Carolyn jumps to her feet. "Tony DiNozzo is here…in the bullpen. With us. With me!" Then, she straightens her shirt, manages to say a little more sanely: "Tony, I loved you in that remake of Pride and Prejudice. You were just brilliant as Mr. Darcy. And don't even get me started on your part in Anna Karenina."
Tony DiNozzo? Why does that name sound so familiar?
Tony smiles politely as though a drooling fangirl is nothing new. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you too, Agent….?"
"Bullock, but you can call me Carolyn." She schools her face into the sexiest expression she can manage as she holds her hand out.
"Charmed, Agent Bullock." When he kisses the back of her hand, she looks like she might just pass out.
Her mouth twitches into an awkward—bordering on crazed—smile. "Do you mind saying that line? The famous one from Up All Night?"
"Oh, you mean – " Tony's kind eyes darken as he schools his face into a sneer "—Zippity-doo-da, you motherfu – " When Tim clears his throat, Tony switches gears. "Oh, Thom, I am so glad to finally meet you. I must say that I'm a huge fan of your book."
And that's the moment Tim wishes a meteor would wipe them all off the face of the earth.
But he isn't that lucky.
His legs give way and he tumbles back into his chair. He feels like he's floating somewhere up around the ceiling, watching his private and personal lives hurdle towards each other like speeding trains. Soon enough, there will be nothing left of his life but twisted bits of flaming wreckage.
Tim swallows hard.
Carolyn glances over with her furrowed brow. Ziva abandons her e-mail in favor of staring Tim down.
"That isn't me," he chokes out. "I'm Tim McGee."
"Well here, I'm sure you are. But you're the author Thom E. Gemcity too, right?" Tony's eyebrow jumps when Tim doesn't come clean. "I recognize you from your dustjacket. Plus, your agent said that I'd find you at work. I thought we could speak about the part for the movie adaptation of your book."
When Carolyn and Ziva share a confused glance, Tim struggles not to panic. No matter how much he wants to, he doubts that would get him anywhere right now.
"Maybe…we should..." he gestures between himself and Tony "…talk in private?"
But Tony isn't listening because he is busy marveling at the bullpen's mundane computer monitors, the ancient metal desks, and the giant plasma. He holds his arms out as he steps deeper into the space; his face is full of awe like he just saw the stars for the first time.
"It's perfect. Everything here is exactly how you described it, Thom." He clears his throat, shoots Tim an apologetic glance. "I mean, Agent McGee. You really captured the essence of the office, even right down to the walls. How did you describe them again?"
Those walls are staring to close in on him. "Orange."
"Yeah, that's it." Tony nods. "'The walls were so orange that MacGregor believed he lived in the land of perpetual sunset.' Really riveting stuff. I could barely put the book down."
Tim mumbles, "Thank you," to himself.
Tony stops by Ziva's desk. "You must be Officer Lisa Davis."
"I am afraid that you are mistaken." Ziva's eyes harden as she glances up at him. "I am Ziva David, a liaison from Mossad."
"Mossad." He exhales with a flourish. "That is so much sexier than a Lebanese super spy."
She cocks her head. "What do you mean?"
"Lisa Davis? The female lead from Deep Six. Her father was American and her mother was the director of the Lebanese secret service. She grew up there to become a member of their special ops team." When Ziva shrugs hopelessly, Tony throws Tim a shocked glance. "Did you not tell your friends about your novel, Agent McGee?"
"It would seem that he did not," Ziva says.
"Your agent said it was based on real life, but – " Tony lets out a low whistle " – damn, I feel like I walked into a living, breathing set for your novel."
Ziva narrows her eyes at Tim. She reaches for a pen on her desk, grips it like she might just plunge it into the side of Tim's neck. Swallowing hard, he readjusts his collar to hide his jugular.
Tim sputters: "Very loosely. Maybe, if you squint really hard. Look, it's not…it's not…it's just…I made it all up. Every single thing is made up." He barks an awkward laugh. "I write to clear my mind, so that I can sleep. Everyone needs sleep, right?"
At that moment, Jethro Gibbs appears at the edge of the bullpen.
"You wrote a book, McGee?" he growls.
Tim's voice suddenly forsakes him; so he just nods. When Tony stares at Gibbs like he examines a scientific specimen, Tim wishes the floor would swallow him whole.
"You must be L.J. Tibbs." Tony offers his hand. "Tony DiNozzo."
He doesn't move. "It's Gibbs. And you are here to?"
"Observe and learn about my subject." Tony gestures towards Tim. "I need to understand the inspiration behind Liam MacGregor in order to truly become him in the film."
"Not on my time."
Vance clears his throat. "Too late, Agent Gibbs. I decided a good opportunity for our agency to gain some positive press. You know, get some quality recruits from the publicity. I believe it's the same reason that my predecessor granted Agent McGee permission to publish his book a few years ago."
"Years ago?" Gibbs repeats.
"Yes, and you three should get your hands on a copy. It's very well-written and quite…" Vance seems to search for the appropriate phrase "…true to life." When Vance's cell phone rings, he checks it. "I need to handle this. But I trust you're in good hands, Mr. DiNozzo?"
Tony nods emphatically. "Thank you again, Director Lance."
Vance laughs, but doesn't bother to correct him. And just like that, the one person who could keep Gibbs, Carolyn, and Ziva from murdering Tim in the middle of the bullpen disappears up the stairs.
Tim doesn't need to look at Gibbs to feel the laser stare that bores a hole straight through him. He fiddles with his pen holder, pushing all of the colored ones to the left and all black ones to the right. Neatness and order in the presence of chaos will grant him clarity. Or so all of his self-help CDs promise. When a red one dives back into the black pile, he almost loses it.
So much for being Zen. So much for 'finding my calm in the storm of my discontent.'
Holding his breath, Tim waits for his execution.
"Got a body in Rock Creek Park," Gibbs announces, heading for his desk. "Grab your gear."
Carolyn and Ziva reach into the desks for their badges and service weapons while Tim watches them silently. Perhaps, he realizes, there are worse things than a quick death…like waiting until your boss decides when is the right time to dispatch you.
Staring at the team with rapt attention, Tony slides out of the way. His cautious and steady eyes absorb every detail in the way the three of them move in tandem, holstering their weapons and slinging backpacks over their shoulders. Tony practices clipping a holster to his suit pants with his empty hand.
Gibbs is halfway of the bullpen when he yells: "Look alive, McGee!"
"What about…what about…" Tim barely recovers long enough to point at Tony. "What about him?"
"You made your bed," Gibbs calls.
Ziva snickers. "Now, you have to sleep in it."
"Nice try, Zee-vah." Tony chuckles. "The saying is, 'you've made your bed, so lie in it.'"
She shrugs. "It is close enough."
Carolyn lingers by the entrance of the bullpen as though she isn't sure whether she should catch up with her boss or spend more time ogling Tony.
"Move your asses!" Gibbs yells from the elevator.
Springing to life, Carolyn and Ziva dart towards the elevator. Tim doesn't bother to try to make the ride because he doesn't want to be trapped in a confined space with three people who believe he just wrote a book about them—even though he didn't. So he takes a long time to reach into his desk for his weapon, badge, spare magazine, creds, and back-pack.
Once he finishes, he is surprised to find Tony patiently waiting for him.
"I think it's safer to take the stairs," Tim says.
"It's good exercise," Tony replies like he's trying to be nice.
"Yeah."
"Hey, Tim, do you think I could get some of my own gear to try out?"
Tim pushes his backpack into Tony's arms. "Feel free to use mine."
Tony stops in the middle of the hallway and throws the bag of his shoulder. "This is so cool."
Then he mirrors Gibbs' purposeful stride all the way to the stairs. Dumbfounded, Tim just scrubs his hand across his face.
How am I supposed to get through today?