Disclaimer: I own nothing; just my ideas

Note: I wrote this after watching Marilyn Manson's '(s)aint' video. Eric Szmanda, I think I'm in lust –swoons-

Note B: This fic is strictly AU. Despite production companies being the same, I seriously doubt the five folk involved would be permitted to interact in such ways. Woe is the mind that is mine. Enjoy.

Early Morn Irritation… times three.

A message popped up on Greg's computer screen and scowling at being interrupted, Greg testily clicked the 'Accept' button for the 'Incoming Call from Anthony'.

"Hey, G," Tony greeted from the screen, a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. Greg blinked, unable to say anything for a moment. And when he opened his mouth to snap at the other man, two mote messages popped up. Resisting the overwhelming urge to growl, Greg clicked 'Accept' for both.

"Greg," Tim smiled from his little square in the top left hand corner of Greg's second screen.

"Sanders," Danny cried, dramatically clutching at his chest. "You wound me with your lack of calling. It's been… what?"

"Twenty-seven hours, forty-four minutes and thirty seconds," Greg said. He stared at each window in turn and sighed. Next to Tim's window was Danny's, sitting in the top right hand corner of the screen while Tony had commandeered one whole screen to himself. He never did tell Greg how he could do that. "Not that it's not good to see you, but I'm kinda busy so…" he made a 'get on with it' gesture with his hand, but received nothing but unimpressed stared back.

"So…?" Tony repeated and Greg rolled his eyes.

"What could possibly be so important that you highjack my screens? I have reports I need to write up."

"We know, they look pretty boring," Tim commented idly and Greg scowled. He clicked a few keys and the reports beneath the open call windows were saved and removed from the screens. "You know we wouldn't look at your reports, Greg," Tim said, an easy grin on his face but Greg just gave him a 'look'. "Ok, that one time, we did. Sorry… it was bad of us, we know, we learned our lesson." Greg saw scowls forming on his other 'guests'' faces as well.

"You wouldn't talk to us for two weeks," Danny growled.

"You think we'd make that mistake again?" Tony asked and Greg raised an eyebrow. "The answer is 'No', numbnuts."

"Ok, no report looking, what do you guys want?" Greg pressed. The reports had to be done by that night and even though it was only 9:00AM, he did have to sleep.

"What? Guys can't call their buds for a chat?" Tony asked, mock hurt on his face.

"Not when I'm being referred to as a 'bud' in need of a 'chat'. What are you, a High School Cheerleader?" Greg asked, disgusted. Speed and Danny snickered at the irritated look Tony now wore.

"You know, I can just grant someone else the pleasure of looking at my face," Tony defended and Greg snorted into the drink he'd just picked up.

"Tony; you're gorgeous, and we love you, but please… the narcissistic act is for NCIS HQ only," Danny laughed and Tony pretended to be hurt for another few seconds before giving up and smiling, nodding his head in mock-defeat. "But Greg, can we not call and say hello?"

"You could… but you know I work nights and it's now 9:00AM and you know that usually, I'm asleep by this time. It baffles me that you'd try the line right now, let alone that you actually thought you'd get a hold of me."

"But we did… get a hold of you, that is," Tim pointed out.

"And thus, completely nullifying your statement so shut up and look pretty," Danny grinned and Greg rolled his eyes again.

"Seriously; Speed, Danny, Tony… I just got off a double, I'm tired, I need sleep."

"Greg," Speed said, his expression as impassive as ever and Greg focused on him.

"We just, collectively, made a very interesting discovery," Danny went on, a smirk plastered on his face and if there hadn't been the 1500 or so kilometres between them, Speed would have slapped his friend upside the head.

"Extremely interesting," chimed in Tony, from his position in Washington; a few kilometres shy of 1300 from Speed.

Greg frowned at his screens. "Guys… you feeling alright?" he asked, confused as to why his friends had called, let alone what they were talking about. "I have Horatio, Gibbs and Mac on speed-dial, you know," he went on but all he received were blank-slash-amused…ish stares.

"Come on, Greg…"

"We found it," Tony grinned, and Greg was now more confused that ever.

"And we gotta say… you looked hot." That was Speed. Speed said that. Ok, now Greg was completely baffled.

"Guys, what the hell are you talking about?" he snapped, glaring at them all.

The trio shared a smile. Each clicked a button on their keyboards and their faces disappeared… only to be replaced by another image… one Greg was all too familiar with. As he watched the clip, all colour drained rapidly from his face, then just as quickly filled again when he realised exactly what this meant.

Greg in a mini-skirt… Greg up close, and personal with the other guy's neck.

"Jesus," he groaned, burying his head in his arms and tried to hide from his friends.

"Want to explain this, Greg?" a new and amused voice asked and Greg snapped his head up, focussing on a new, fourth window.

"Fuck," Greg muttered. It was then, and only then, that he noticed the new window was the only open call window on his screens. "You complete, and utter, bastards," he muttered more to himself than the new guest on his computer screen. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before opening then again and focussing on the aforementioned window. "Warrick… morning," he said shakily, vowing revenge in the most deadliest of ways.

"Morning," Rick grinned, something… odd… in the glint in his eye.

Greg smiled weakly at his colleague; maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

He was still going to kill them though.

Written by Messrmarauder

-sighs- Oh the mental imagery will keep me happy for hours and hours and hours