Chocolate Cravings

by channelD

written as: an NFA Haiti Relief Auction prize ficlet

genre: humor

warning: hints of pre-slash, if you squint, but probably nothing you wouldn't see on the show

lucky characters: Tony and Tim

rating: K plus

prompt: chocolate

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disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS. And ti make matters worse, I don't have enough chocolate.

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Tony blinked, feeling a craving, and gave voice to his innermost thoughts. "Man, I could really go for some…chocolate right now!

From his desk, Tim didn't even look up. He was involved in his work and acknowledging Tony's pathetic grumblings would be a minimum waste of two minutes. It had been quiet in the squad room that morning, with Gibbs and Ziva out to pick up a suspect.

"McGee! You must have some chocolate in your desk! Be a pal and share some."

Drat. He'd hoped that Tony would shut up and turn his mind back to whatever scantily-clad girl was prancing through it at the moment. "I don't have any chocolate, Tony. I'm trying to keep my weight down."

"Aw, come on. Not even a Hershey's kiss? Or a mini-Snickers bar?"

"You know where the break room and the vending machines are." Tim tried to look busy, hoping Tony would move on.

Sure enough, Tony wandered off in the direction of the break room, but he was back a few minutes later. Now what?! thought Tim.

"Can you believe it?! There's no chocolate in the vending machines! None! Just pretzels and chips and gummy-things and mints. How do they expect us to live on gummy bears?!"

Tim scowled as, distracted, he hit a wrong key and his access to a database was terminated. "Tony, I hate to say it, but you're sounding like a woman."

"I—what??"

"Chicks dig chocolate. I'm surprised you didn't know that. If all of the women vanished from the earth, chocolate sales would disappear."

"That's not the only thing that would disappear…but I'm not sure I like you comparing me to a woman, McGender."

Tim eyed him, not sure whether to laugh or roll his eyes. "I will never think of you as a woman, Tony. Not even if you start spelling your name T-O-N-I."

"You don't like me?"

"What? How did you jump to that conclusion?!"

"Because you don't think of me in a fair and graceful and attractive way, and more to the point, you won't share your chocolate."

"You're crazy! And as I already said, I don't have any chocolate!" Muttering, he added, "Any time I put some in my desk drawer, Ziva finds it and takes it."

"Aha! So you admit you'll give chocolate to Ziva but not to me!"

"I said Ziva takes it. I don't bring it in for her. Or you. Or anyone but myself, and I shouldn't even bring it in for me!" He poked Tony in the stomach. "You could stand to lay off the jelly donuts and the breakfast burritos, DiNozzo."

"What? And eat rabbit food like you and Ziva do?? I'd rather die."

Tim tried once more to tune him out as his eyes went back to his computer.

But Tony wasn't done. He muttered, "If you liked me, you'd bring in chocolate for me."

In anger, Tim stood up. "Now you're weirding me out, Tony. You act like I'm your…date, or something."

"Heaven forbid…"

"Good!"

"…that I would ever date someone who was so unkind as to not be willing to bring me chocolate."

"I'm not even going to respond to that. I'm going to lunch." Tim grabbed his coat and hat—it was February, and cold out—and departed the squad room before Tony could get another word in.

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Tony ate a lonely lunch; heating up a cup of ramen noodles in the microwave, and washing it down with ginger ale. He felt vaguely sad; ginger ale was a treat his governess had always given him when he was sick as a child. Was he sick now? He wasn't sure. He knew he could have gone out and bought himself some chocolate somewhere, but there was something just sad about that thought. Chocolate should be enjoyed by being shared. If McGee had had some, Tony would have been happy to let him keep some for himself. (Probably.)

Deep in thought, he jumped when a bag with something heavy in it dropped onto his desk. "Probie! What are you up to; dive-bombing me like that?!"

Tim smirked a little. "That's for you," he said, gesturing at the bag.

"Oh, yeah?" Suspiciously, expecting a prank, Tony reached into the black bag with caution and slowly pulled out the large object inside. "McGee…!" It was a very large, dark reddish-brown, heart-shaped box. Five pounds of assorted chocolates, according to the label.

Tim's smile became almost playful, and he shrugged. "Today being February 15, all of the Valentine's Day candy is on sale. This was 50% off. So, I thought, why not."

"That's…that's…" Tony couldn't think of what to say. "Thank you." A million feelings, many conflicting, were racing through his mind at the speed of a missile. One of the foremost ones was the fact that when you came right down to it, Tim McGee was one of the most decent, caring, likeable people around. And he was Tony's friend.

"You're welcome." Tim turned to go back to his own desk.

"Hey! Wait!" Tony called.

"Hmm? What?"

"Bring your chair over. Let's make a dent in this calorie-crusher together."

Tim smiled. "You're such a girl, Tony." But he did drag his chair over next to Tony's.

"Don't call me a girl…girlfriend."

"Okay…girlfriend."

They both laughed and looked at the legend under the lid, searching for the strawberry cream-filled chocolates.

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