Disclaimer: Peaches come from a can. They were put there by a man in a factory downtown.

Spoilers: Nah.

Summary: Tony is wearing a curious color and McGee is…curious.

McGee ran into the bullpen, looking around before checking his watch as an apology died on his lips. He'd been sure he was going to be late, but…he was late. Yet he was still the first one in the office. He rushed the last few steps to his chair and impatiently rapped his knuckles on his desk as his computer took its sweet time logging him in. "Come on, come on…" He scowled at the cappuccino that had seemed like such a good idea when he'd pulled into the parking lot at the coffee shop.

His beverage regained favor when his datebook confirmed what his PDA had already told him in the elevator – he wasn't missing a critical meeting. Unless that meeting had been called that morning by someone making an announcement from the catwalk and… he was going to have to check every conference room and when he did arrive everyone would look at him and know he'd been late to work and what if Director Vance was there and…

He was on the verge of pitching his cappuccino into the trash in a fit of anguish when Tony walked in, grumbling, "Friggin' traffic. What kind of inconsiderate jerk thinks it's a great idea to roll his Escalade over on New Jersey in the middle of rush hour?"

McGee took a few deep breaths, as he realized there hadn't been an impromptu meeting. After another few breaths, he felt downright smug about his detour to the coffee shop that had apparently saved him a lot of actual rather than imagined aggravation. "I thought you knew all the best shortcuts in DC."

"Yeah, well, when the cops finally decided to let traffic start moving again, I was able to use one. There's only so much you can do deadlocked in the middle of a city block. I suppose I could have mounted the curb, but that's just begging to run into a fruit vendor and the carwash charges extra to scrape off dried-on melons and…"

"Sorry I said anything," McGee interrupted, though not mean-spiritedly. If anything, he was happy to hear there were traffic problems. He'd been late and still been the first one to work Not bad. Come to think of it, there hadn't been many cars in the lot when he'd pulled in. He could have taken his time coming upstairs. He definitely could have been a lot friendlier with Denise from the evidence locker if he'd realized he'd had more time. And if she'd actually been flirting with him and not just being friendly. He was considering asking Tony for his dubious opinion when Tony took off his coat. "That is a pink shirt."

"Real men can wear pink and not be uncomfortable with it," Tony replied snippily, adjusting his cuffs.

"Okay, but you have to admit – that's a really pink pink."

"So?" Tony was still focused on his cuffs, which he was now unbuttoning in order to roll up his sleeves. "Just for the record, it used to be white."

"Laundry issue?"

"Something like that."

Feeling magnanimous, McGee suggested, "Why don't you just change into one of your spares?"

"Don't have a clean one."

"And you didn't have any other clean shirts at home?"

"Look, I wasn't…this was the only shirt I had this morning. Yes, it's pink and yes, I'm okay with that. Now can we just move on?"

McGee leaned back and sipped his cappuccino, deciding to press his advantage. "You should really try to keep up with the laundry, Tony. I find that it helps to separate whites and colors in their own baskets, with another set aside for dry clean only items and…"

"I'm a for…grown man, McGain. I don't need you explaining the finer points of separating delicates, whites and colors."

"Your shirt says different."

He pouted, turning to his computer. "I hope you spill that coffee somewhere noticeable."

McGee smiled and turned his attention to another colleague who had just entered the bullpen. "Morning, Ziva."

"Good morning, McGee. Traffic was terrible this morning. Did you have any problems?"

"No, guess I got lucky." He was about to turn away when he noted that she was wearing a bright red sweatshirt. On closer inspection, he was able to make out the logo on the front. "Since when are you an Ohio State fan?"

She shrugged. "I am not, but for some reason, I agreed to come to work in this if they won the Rose Ball."

"Rose Bowl," Tony corrected through gritted teeth, "and you didn't agree to it, you lost a bet."

"True, but I agreed to the terms of the bet."

"But you wouldn't have made the bet if you thought my Buckeyes weren't going to tear the feathers off the shoulders of those stupid Ducks. I'm telling you, you can't trust any team that has yellow as one of its colors, even if they give it some fancy name that makes it sound like corn. It's just freaking yellow!"

"Tony, relax," Ziva said, setting a coffee cup in front of him. "They won."

"Huh? Oh, right." He sipped from his cup with a satisfied smirk. "And you have to wear that in acknowledgment of that win. Nyah."

McGee knew that the topic was best dropped if they were descending to sticking out of tongues this early in the day, but had to say, "Wasn't that game a few weeks ago?"

Tony took another sip of his coffee before saying, "Yeah, but I had to get the sweatshirt for her, then she insisted on washing it before she wore it."

"Let me get this straight – you bought that sweatshirt for Ziva?" McGee waited for Tony's reluctant nod of confirmation and continued, "So she's just going to wear it at work for one day to fulfill a bet that…I don't even understand how this was a bet."

Ziva rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I suppose I can wear it when I run, as well."

"You can wear it anytime!" Tony proclaimed. "If you're jealous, Mc…I'd plug in the name of your alma mater's…does MIT have sports teams?"

He muttered, "Yes. The Engineers."

Tony grinned. "Do they dress in striped blue overalls and shout 'All Aboard!' at games?"

"Just because I attended colleges with an academic focus…"

"Oh, I know you're educated enough not to put down The Ohio State University…"

Ziva had appeared between them. "It is too early to start this."

McGee was pleased to see that Tony backed down first. "Yeah, sure. Fine. In fact, I'll get you a sweatshirt, too, McGee. You can be an honorary fan of a proud tradition."

"Thanks, Tony. I'll be sure not to wash it with my whites."

McGee sat down at his desk with a smile to finish his cappuccino as Ziva encouraged Tony to sit and calm down.

Gibbs walked into the bullpen a few minutes later, also complaining about the traffic. "…damn Metro. And DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Whites go in separately."

"Right. I'll remember that in the future."

McGee wasn't entirely sure, but Ziva, at least, seemed sympathetic to Tony's plight, saying, "I think the pink brings out a nice skin tone on you," before offering to pay for lunch. He suspected she'd had a similar laundry-pinkening experience at some point.