My friend Samm picked the prompt "itch." Then, during gym, I thought of the plot while talking to my friend Shelby. I don't own NCIS...
It was another normal August day at NCIS. Tony sat at his desk, working on paperwork, when Gibbs had come into the bullpen, telling the team that they had another dead marine. The senior field agent quickly grabbed his things and headed down to the car.
The marine had been killed in the woods. Tony trudged through the rivers and the plants, wishing that the marine had been killed in plain sight. He hated trudging through the water and through the plants. Finally, the senior field agent arrived at the scene and did what he had to do.
The case was nothing special. It was business as usual for Special Agent DiNozzo, and he did everything that he normally did. As the day went on, however, the senior field agent began to itch. His hands were the first part of his body that started to itch and then the itching sensation moved to his arms, legs, and even his face.
Tony quickly scratched, trying to rid of the feeling, but nothing worked. His arms started to turn red and the feeling became worse. The whole time he was scratching his arms and legs, Ziva was sitting across from him with a curious expression on her face.
After awhile, Tony couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't focus on his work. So, the senior field agent left headquarters and headed home.
He was home for only ten minutes when there was a knock at the door. Still scratching his arms, Tony got up and opened the door. Ziva was standing there with a bottle of lotion in her hand, with an angry expression on her face. "Ziva, what the hell are you doing here?" Tony asked, scratching his neck.
"You are...how do you Americans say it? An idiot?" she said, pushing past him and walking his apartment.
"Yes, an idiot," Tony said, shutting the door behind him. "But why am I an idiot?" he asked, walking over to Ziva, still scratching away.
"Because you cannot identify leaves."
Tony looked down at her, confused, and she groaned, frustrated.
"Why do you think you itch, Tony?" Ziva asked, looking up at him.
"I don't know, Ziva. But you obviously know, so why don't you enlighten me?" Tony said angrily, moving past her to sit on the couch.
Rolling her eyes at him, Ziva followed Tony to the couch and then sat down next to him. She put her hand on his knee and replied, "You have poison ivy, Tony. You probably got in contact with it when we went to that crime scene."
Tony groaned and slumped against the back of the couch. He continued to scratch his arms, but Ziva grabbed his hand and stopped him immediately.
"Do not scratch, Tony. That will only make it worse," Ziva said, letting go of his hand to open the bottle of lotion that she brought with her. "Here, if you put this on then it will help with the itching," she added, rubbing the lotion on her hands before putting it on him.
Tony watched her, mesmerized. She had been right, though; the lotion did help his itch. "Ziva, what would I do without you?" he asked with a laugh.
She looked up at him and smiled. "You would probably die, Tony," she joked. "But that is okay because I am here to take care of you now."