Front cover

The return from the lunch break always brings a state of anxiousness. It is different for the phone call to come in the morning hours, when the agents are fresh and ready to face any kind of enemies and totally different when half of the day is spent and they've eaten. Stomach full means less vigour, less ability to think on their feet... and also less ability to stand on their feet. The last one goes mostly to Tony, though no one is going to tell him that! Ok maybe Gibbs will, or Ziva and sometimes Tim when shove comes to push. And only if Abby or Ducky isn't mentioned. On second thought, everyone is ready to point out the little fact to the senior agent, who in turn will have something to retort. As always.

Tim's the last to come back and he's surprised to not listen to any snarky remark about his delay. Look at this! Maybe there is a God after all! As an expression because, you know, there is... a God I mean. OK OK lost track! Back to the story... Surprised! But there is one! I think!

So Tim McGee was shocked to come back in the bullpen and walk all through to his own desk, sit down, reboot his computer with no comment! Absolutely no comment! By anyone! Not Tony, not Ziva and not Gibbs. He wasn't THAT late, but still; every other time he was a bit late it was bound to listen to some kind of remark.

'You finally found yourself to work, McTardy?'

'Hmmmm McGee, it was lunch break, not bed break...'

'McGee! Next time make sure your food is dead before you order it!'

…and other pretty things like that.

Not this time though! Tim was divided between feeling the urge to thank the extremely generous universe or... or go to Vance's Office to report an alien invasion. He dismissed the second thought almost immediately. The prospect of spending the next number of years in a psychiatric ward didn't seem all that promising. He silently resumed his work slowly drinking his coffee.

He didn't notice Tony's speculative glance, Ziva's admiring one or Gibbs' smirk. He just kept typing his reports with absurdly fast fingers.

One hour later Abby stormed in the bullpen. She ran in front of his desk and put one hand on her waist while the other was behind her back, taking the scary-Abby posture while the glean in her eyes actually diminished the scariness by much.

'Why didn't you say, McGee?' Of course Tim had been absorbed in his work so he hadn't heard or noticed her magnificent entrance despite the noise her boots made. From across the room, Gibbs made a mental note to teach the boy how to keep in touch with his surroundings as startled green eyes turned up to look at Abby. This was getting ridiculous. He was a field agent for heaven's sake!

'Mmmm say what, Abs?' Poor innocent McGee!

She brought the arm he had behind her back to the front and laid a glossy magazine on the desk before pushing it close to him. Tim reached over and blushed as soon as he saw the front cover.

'This!' She said while Tony and Ziva got up and went to stand behind Ziva both holding a copy of the same magazine.

'What's this?' Tim asked feigning innocence. Lost cause really because no one was biting.

'You are, McGee!' Abby said looking at the magazine and then at her friend and ex lover.

'Yes, I do know that Abby. What I'm asking is why did you bring it here?' Eyes bulged comically from the audience of three and Gibbs suppressed his laughter.

'You... You didn't say!'

'Say what?'

'That you got to be in the cover of TIMES McGee! And looking like that!' Tony said opening his own copy and pointing at the photo in the inside of the magazine that showed a laying on a burgundy leather couch McGee wearing an expensive dark suite, silk green shirt open in the front -and the chest- while being barefoot, green eyes looking in the camera as if having sex with it. Tim looked at it sheepishly.

'Jane's a good photographer.'

'McGee! Look at that!' It was Ziva's turn to wave the magazine and show the next page in which Tim was leaning on the stairs, the background dark and starry, still barefoot but this time wearing a pair of ripped blue jeans and a best quality looking burgundy shirt.

'Yes, Jane again!'

'JANE! Jane, McGee?' She yelled her finger pointing to the photo; rather the part of the photo that showed Tim's left hand, the two fingers of which held a cigarette.

'Are you smoking McGee?'

'Ummm no?' He asked taken aback by the force of Ziva's words.

'Oh really McSmokey...?'

'Really Tony. Can anyone...?' But he was interrupted by Abby.

'Really, really McGee! Why didn't you say anything?'

'About the photo shoot?'

'NO! About you wearing glasses!' Gibbs was ready to take a sip from his coffee and the coffee actually ended up all over his desk listening to Abby's question. Of all the things... only Abby! Everyone turned to stare at their Boss who waved at them dismissively.

'Seriously Abby, that' all you have to say? The Glasses?' Ziva asked shaking her hand while her gaze was still glued in the photo that showed Tim leaning against a mirror, white dress shirt open to the middle of his chest, tie untied around the long neck, black dress trousers hugging the long lean legs...

'Excuse me Ziva, but I know McGee for over years in every sense of the world, biblical including...' and there Tim's blushing returned. 'And I didn't know Tim's wearing glasses!' She wasn't going to admit she always had a thing for handsome men wearing glasses. And Tim was most definitely a suave handsome man... she sighed!

'Abs, it was only the concept of the photo shoot.' Tony tried to reason with her but Tim interrupted.

'No it wasn't! The glasses are mine.'

'Just like the pipe McGee?'

'Pipe? What pipe?' Ziva asked but no one answered.

'Never mind... No Tony, I do really wear glasses when I write.'

'So Abs care to explain me what is this all about?' He turned his attention to her.

'Um...' She started changing her body weight from foot to foot. 'Would you like to go on a date next Saturday?' Tim looked at her shock returning to his features.

'Oh no Abby! McGee promised he will show me the... the National Gallery of Art!' She said lamely.

'Ohhhh can I come?' Abby asked looking at Tim.

'Um actually...' What could he say? What could he say? 'That's scheduled for next Saturday Ziva, and yes, Abby you may come. This Saturday I have planned a picnic with Jane, my girlfriend.' He said and got up to go have some fresh air.

Gibbs followed him and stopped right out of the lift. He leaned close to him and said quietly.

'The Groucho Marx impersonation was my favourite!"

'Mine too, but don't tell anyone!'

Thom E Gemcity

Is style referring to brains?
America's new favourite gives his answers!