AN: Well, guys, this is my first NCIS fic , and it's a parody. I premise I really esteem deeply all the people who choose to spend their valuable time to write fictions and accept to share their work just for fun.
So, it's a parody fic, but I hope that nobody (especially between fiction writers!) will feel offended by it: it was made just for a laugh.

Finally, I ask forgiveness in advance for all my mistakes and misspellings: English is not my first language, and this fic is not betaed.

Reviews and constructive criticism are really welcome.

Hope you enjoy!

OOOOOOOO

"Oh, you won again!" McGee sighed frustrated and threw his cards at Fornell, who had just outmatched him again in a poker game. "I've got nothing else to bet: you've already won my mobile, my iPhone, the iPad, let alone the ebook reader, Wii, Playstations, Xbox, notepad, SATNAV, iPod, old Walkman, personal computer, LCD TV screen, the talking multi-food processor, the first Nintendo, the digital alarm clock I keep on the night table and every other electronic device I had." McGee seemed really desperate: he was probably wondering how he was supposed to survive without all that technology.

Their poker table, now covered by almost all the above-mentioned devices, in a corner of the large, colorless, totally uninteresting room, was surrounded by a small group of people, who had wisely decided not to take part in the game. Others, in the room, were busy chatting, playing other games or just sleeping, glad they were having a moment to relax.

"Not my fault if I almost never appear in fictions! There's nothing much to do except playin' cards when you spend days here, waiting for some writer to remember you exist," Fornell retorted, half amused, half annoyed.

"At least you're alive," Kate butted in. "Think about me: I'm dead, but still, they're always making me come back as a ghost, or they even pretend I never died! And, hell, I've been shot in the head, how could I have survived?" she concluded.

"Well, when they make you come back, I cease to exist," Ziva replied. "Half the time I'm having love stories with Tony or other guys, killing people, even having babies, and the other half I don't exist! Oh well, sometimes I'm also making amusing mistakes or misspelling," she pensively added.

"Love stories with Tony, huh? Oh, they do that to me, too," Kate snorted.

"Speaking of which," Gibbs suddenly appeared behind the two women, "where is him now? It's almost two hours since the last time I headslapped him, or told him I love him as a son, or hugged him and kissed him on the forhead" he said. "They make me do that kind of things a lot," he added, "make me look like a sentimental guy…I mean, me kissing Tony!" he snorted disgusted. "Anyway, any idea about what he's doing now or where?"

"I could trace his mobile phone," McGee butted in.

"McGee, we're not on the show now," Gibbs retorted exasperated. "Can't you just quit that technologic crap for a minute?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry boss," Tim awkwardly muttered, "professional bias."

"He's busy with an investigation," Abby answered Gibbs, "but I fear he's getting into trouble again," she added, obviously worried. "Probably shot, or stabbed. I guess I'm going to need tons of Coffe-Pow in the immediate future," the Goth finally sighed, sounded resigned. "And you do hug me in the show, you know," she suddenly exclaimed to Gibbs. "Why can't you hug Tony, too?".

"Not the same thing, Abby", he gruffly answered. "You're a girl, he isn't."

Abby chuckled, "Oh yeah, I noticed. And he's very handsome too. But, that's strange, I almost never wind up with him, I mean, in a love story with him, that would be great, wouldn't it? But it sometimes happens between us, Gibbs, I mean, me and you and-"

"Breath, Abby. You know, you're supposed to make pauses sometimes when you talk, so that the writers can describe what you're doing," Gibbs cut her off. " Y'know, something like 'she said' or 'he exclaimed', stuff like that," he explained.

"Oh, well, that's the way I talk both in the show and in fictions. Make me look like a lunatic, don't they?" she jokingly complained. "Seems like all I do is listening to loud music, drinking coffee and behave like a psychopath," she chuckled. "Well, anyway, I was sayin', sometimes we're in love. Isn't it sweet? Well, let alone the fact that I'm probably about the age of your deceased daughter, but it doesn't mind."

"Yes, I know they put us together, and yes, it is veeeery sweet," Gibbs patiently answered. " Well, I often wind up with Tony, too" he added thoughtfully. "Seems like they cannot decide whether I'm gay or not."

"That's not so unusual, Jethro, you know?" Ducky, who still hadn't took part in the conversation finally spoke up. " I remember a guy who seemed very unsure about his sexuality. It must have been twenty years ago and-"

"Duck. Not now, please," Gibbs cut him off, exasperated. Duck was a very nice guy, but his stories were often prone to be excessively long, especially when you didn't have the time to listen; "and, no, I'm not unsure about my sexuality!" he exclaimed.

"Whoa, boss, there would be nothing to be ashamed of, you know," Tony, who had just arrived, chimed in. He looked pretty disheveled, his usually neat hair all ruffled, his eyes so green and bright they seemed artificial, his teeth brilliant and whiter than chalk.

"DiNozzo, it's about ti- hey, what's wrong with your eyes?" Gibbs asked, finally noticing his appearance.

"Oh, nothing boss," he shrugged. "I've just been shot again, so we're going to have a very moving scene. You know, your blue eyes locking into my green ones, you telling me I'm gonna live and so on. In those scenes writers always focus on the greenness of my beautiful eyes."

"Oh no, not again," Gibbs groaned.

"Hey boss, you're not supposed to groan. You can glare, scowl, frown, make sarcastic remarks instead, but no groans. You're a Marine, remember?" Tony teased him. Gibbs just glared at him.

"Exactly what I meant, boss!" Tony shot him a lopsided grin.

"I knew you were going to get into trouble again," Abby addressed Tony, "seems like you can't have a decent investigation without getting hurt," she observed pensively, just a hint of reproach in her voice, as she glared at Tony.

"Hey, not my fault," Tony tried to defend himself, "writers love my hospital scenes! Dunno, they all say I'm so hot, but I always get hurt," he wondered. "I'm not so sure they like me so much."

"No wonder, Tony," Ziva jumped in, "when you're in a coma, at least you shut up."

"You're just jealous," Tony sneered at her. "And, believe me, it's not so funny. Seems to me I spend most of time in hospitals or at Gibbs' house, recovering from injuries," he went on. "I can't even remember all the times I got shot, stabbed, beaten, threatened at gun point, poisoned, let alone my problems with lungs!" he complained. "I'm so scarred that it's a wonder I manage to move."

"Hey, drop it!" Abby snorted. "Think about us, we spend hours keeping vigil over you, or holding your hand drinking terrible coffee, sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs."

"At least, Tony, you're the main character of most stories," McGee complained, too. "I'm always left in a corner when the stories warm up, doing nothing clever."

"Oh, yeah, I enjoy myself a lot being the protagonist, especially when they drag my father in," was Tony's sarcastic remark. "With all the childhoods they gave me, I must already be older than the Egyptian Pyramids!"

"Oh, the Pyramids," Ducky tried again to plug in, "I remember a guy I met when I served in the Royal Army Medical Corps. He once said he had-"

"Duck, not now!" Gibbs stopped him in his tracks again.

"Oh, well, I guess I'll tell you another time," doctor Mallard sighed, resigned, and shut up again.

"And they don't make me get shot in an arm or something like that, oh no," Tony went on with his complaints, "always get hit in the stomach, the chest, or my poor, overstressed lungs! And I think I'm the only character in the whole history of American TV series who managed to contract the plague!"

"When you'll die, I guess you'll be a very interesting clinical case," Palmer, who hadn't spoken yet, felt it was time to give his contribution to the conversation.

"Gee, thanks Jimmy," Tony sarcastically answered, "I really can't wait."

"So DiNozzo, where have you been hit this time?" Gibbs asked.

"Chest, again," Tony sighed. "Probably getting into a coma. But not immediately, author is having a writer's block."

"Well, then I'm going to relax for a while, maybe work a bit on my boat," Gibbs was resigned. "Won't have much free time in the next days, spending nights at your bedside, kicking the baddies' asses and all. At least at the hospital I'll have a lot of coffee."

He turned, ready to leave. "Well, guys, behave," he said, looking to his team. Although they were all adults, they apparently needed a parental figure keeping them in line.

"Of course, boss, there's nothing I can do with a bullet hole in the chest anyway," Tony cheerfully exclaimed.

"Hey, speaking of which, why aren't you still covered in blood yet?" McGee wondered.

"Oh, author hasn't described the scene yet," Dinozzo shrugged. "It'll all be in the next chapter."

"Oh, hi Maddie!" Gibbs, who was leaving the group, had just bumped into the young woman.

"Oh, hello! Where are you going?" she asked him.

"Nowhere special, just wanna relax a bit" he shrugged.

"Can I come with you?" she begged him, "You know, it's almost a month since the last time I was in a Requiem missing scene, I'm starting to get bored. I hope they'll write another one of these someday."

"Yeah, you're not the one who does all the work," Tony muttered to himself.

"Oh, of course you can come with me, Maddie," Gibbs, who had heard him, with his superhero powers managed to smile to Maddie and glare at Tony at the same time. Then, putting his arm around her shoulders, started steering her towards the door.

"Hey, you two!" Tony suddenly panicked, seeing the couple walk away together. "You're not going to take a car, are you? I'm sick of saving you from the damn river!"

THE END