Disclaimer: Nobody likes a know-it-all iguana.

Spoilers: Jet Lag. Oh yes.

Summary: They foolishly decided not to steal NCIS:LA's time slot to make this a two-hour ep and include all the fun stuff. But never you fear.

1. Always travel light.

Ziva discovered that her tea was just right as she set her overnight bag on the shelf behind her desk and sat to check her voicemail. She had returned all four calls and confirmed the five o'clock flight from Dulles online by the time she heard the chime of the elevator followed by Tony's voice. "It's not that heavy, McGee! You're just ticked that I get to pop my Paris cherry while you languish in the not at all sexy confines of the bullpen. Maybe you can get your pal the Director to organize a cancan for you."

"I've been to Paris, Tony."

"Yeah, with mommy and daddy, I bet. How old were you? Seven, eight…?"

"Twelve," McGee muttered, dropping a garment bag against Tony's desk with a crash. "And I'm not your skycap."

"Not getting a tip with that attitude, Probie." He wheeled his carry-on bag next to his garment bag and dropped his backpack on his desk.

Ziva took a sip of her tea and closed her eyes, thinking that she had entered a post-lunch torpor that was causing her to hallucinate. Perhaps there had been something off about the tuna. Her stomach felt fine, but it was possible that something had been slipped into her food. She had not recognized the man who made her wrap, so it was entirely possible that… The bags remained when she opened her eyes. Why had she been so convinced this had been a successful poisoning and not a dumb prank? "I know you that cannot all be yours."

Tony plopped into his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Well, I had to borrow the garment bag from a buddy because a baggage carousel ate mine and I hate shopping for luggage. You can never find the right match for what you already own, which I think the luggage companies do so you'll buy a whole new set every time one piece wears out or gets lost or…"

"Please, I cannot take two days of you babbling like a…" She found that she was unable to find a translation for the Hebrew idiom she wanted to use, so she trailed off. "If you would like a compliment on your luggage prank, fine. Very funny."

His face was inscrutable for a moment. "Huh?"

"You do not really…" She waited for his face to break into the smile she could swear he was fighting, but it didn't happen. "Tony…"

"Well, what are you bringing?" She reached behind her and grabbed her bag. "Oh, now who's screwing around? That can't possibly be all you're bringing!"

"We are going to be away for a day and a night!"

"Two days and a night!" he protested. "And I need options! I don't know what we're gonna do besides pick up our whistle-blower – shopping, sight-seeing, photo-ops, the sky's the limit! Although I will state right now, for the record, that I'm not going to any museums, so I didn't pack any ascots or tweed jackets with elbow patches – y'know, McGeek couture, if you can call it that."

"We are not checking luggage," she stated firmly, rising from her seat and grabbing the garment bag. Pushing his backpack into his lap to clear his desk, she opened the bag and spread it out.

"Hey, you just said we're not checking luggage!"

"At the airport, Tony. Right now, you need to simplify."

"You don't think he's simple enough already?"

She ignored McGee's jibe and looked Tony in the eye. "You can bring one suit."

"But I don't…"

"…need four?" she finished for him. "I agree. This grey one will do nicely. It matches the shoes you are wearing. Pick the shirt and tie to go with it unless you want me to select that as well."

The way he grudgingly obeyed told her that her glare must be tougher than usual today. He still complained, "I don't see why I can't bring more than one, since I need the garment bag anyway."

She didn't share her plans for his luggage as she tossed the suit and shirt, plus another of her choosing, on her desk, moving on to his carry-on, which she dropped on top of the garment bag. His shaving kit went straight to her desk, along with some casual clothes, socks and, surprisingly, underwear. She paused not in response to his grimaces at her handling of his clothes but when she found something even more unexpected than boxer briefs. "You have a French home kit?"

"Well, I thought, uh…" He reached out and yanked the white shorts from her hand, but missed the jersey on which she had a firm hold. "When in Rome, so to speak."

She held up the jersey and turned it around. "Why do you even own a Zidane shirt?"

"I, uh, wanted something, y'know, French…and…uh, the headbutt…"

"But why did you pack it? You can buy these on the street in the right districts for far less than you paid for it here."

"But this one's authentic!"

"More so than one you actually buy from a French vendor?"

He sputtered ineffectually for a few moments before proclaiming, "This one has a hologram on the tag!"

"I think she's using a different definition of authentic, Tony," McGee said, clapping Tony on the shoulder and giving her a giddy smile. "And you should probably know that your underwear is attracting some attention."

Ziva stepped aside as Tony pushed past her, still clutching his official French football shorts. "Move along ladies, nothing to see here." The two women from the second floor walked away laughing and Ziva almost felt bad for putting him on display like that. Almost. She liked seeing him with a little color in his cheeks. Anyway, she had the distinct feeling that he wasn't the only one being laughed at, just the only one affected by it.

She did, however, stop him when he tried to throw everything back into his rolling carry-on. "You need a smaller bag."

"And where am I supposed to…"

"I have one in my car. Fold your clothes and I will go get it."

"I can't just fold my suit! It'll get wrinkled!"

"And you will hang it up in the bathroom while the shower steams out the wrinkles. Now, fold."

"Does that really work?"

"I know other ways to flatten wrinkles."

She heard him mumble, "Crazy Moussad laundry tricks…" as she stepped toward the elevator.

"You have no idea," she called over her shoulder, prompting him to drop his pants. He was bending to pick them up and refold them when the doors blocked him from view. She said to herself, "This is going to be an odd trip."