Ok, so I didn't get as many reviews as I wanted, but thanks for these anyway.
Oh, and if I forgot the disclaimer... if everyone who wrote NCIS fics owned NCIS, there would be consensus on one thing. But since we don't, obviously there isn't. If you get what I mean...
Chapter Two – World War III
"Have you done any work yet?" Gibbs called from the balcony two hours later. The three agents looked up from their computer screens.
"My paperwork was done a week ago, boss," McGee said. "Can I go see…"
"No," Gibbs answered immediately. "I'm sure Abby has her own paperwork to do, as do you two," he pointed to the two agents restricted to desk work. After a moment, he returned to Jenny's office.
McGee, bored, gave up on playing with his computer and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and settled into a comfortable sleep, his feet propped up on the desk, DiNozzo style.
"Yes, boss," they both replied, turning back to their screens, and the IM conversation they were having with each other.
Big D: what probie needs is a little p-work of his own
Z: p-work?
Big D: paperwork z. or a wake up call
Z: oh… what do you suggest
Big D: fold ours into paper planes and use him as target practice
Z: 50 points for his head
Big D: 75 for his eyes
Z: 80 for in his nose
Big D: 100 to land in his mouth
Z: how long
Big D: 30 mins. We start in 10
Z: highest score chooses next game
Big D: loser shouts winner dinner
Z: be prepared to lose, my little hairy butt
Big D: you're on, sweetcheeks
They looked up and grinned evilly at each other.
Ziva began to quickly fold her work into planes. She had a stack of almost ten by the time Tony had folded two.
Z: hurry up Tony
Big D: where did you learn to fold them so quickly
Z: the master
Big D: do I know him
Z: you. Now hurry up or I really am going to win
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Down in her lab, Abby tapped into the video bugs she placed in the bullpen weeks before to spy on the temps.
"Psst, Timmy," she whispered into her headset. "Nod if you can hear me."
On his webcam, he nodded. Abby smiled. "Good; now, it looks like they're about to start some type of game. I think you should stay asleep. Maybe I'll direct the feed to Cynthia's computer; she's bound to be bored too."
Abby turned up her music again; today's choice was the latest Brain Matter album, the newest live version from the previous weekend's concert. Putting her phone on speaker, she dialled Cynthia's extension.
"Director Shepard's office."
Abby smiled. "Cynthia, Abby; listen, Tony and Ziva are about to launch World War III. You want in on the outcome?"
There was a sigh over the line. "What am I betting this time?"
"I want information; and a chance to bug the director's office," Abby grinned.
"Absolutely not. The information I can give you, within reason, but bugging her office? Do you want Gibbs to kill you?"
Abby giggled. "He won't kill me. I'm the favourite."
"You won't be for much longer once he finds the bugs, and once he finds what you have taken from the bugs, he'll be sure to punish you in the only way he knows how."
"Harshly, I know," Abby sighed in response. She paused for a moment. "What if I shared the footage with you?"
"I already know what goes on in that office, Miss Scuito, and trust me when I say it is not for even your eyes."
Abby was bursting. "You mean they've really done it? They're back together!"
"You didn't hear it from me, but they won't publicise it, even to you and the team. Not until something certain happens."
"Okay," she replied. "Do you still want to watch World War III? Because I can feed it directly to your desk, if you want…"
"They'll end up seeing it, I'm sure the coffee break is coming up; they've been in there for over an hour without breaking anything or shouting too loudly."
"Okay, the feed's coming up now. Can you ask Gibbs to grab me the usual when he does his coffee run?"
"I'll ask. Oh, by the way, congratulations on the wedding even though I didn't win that particular betting pool. Be sure to send up some photos when you get them."
Abby stared at the phone as Cynthia ended the call, wondering how on earth she knew about her wedding. No one else knew but her and Tim.
Then it struck her.
Nothing could get past Gibbs.
She returned her attention to the bullpen feed, and giggled loudly as a paper plane hit her husband in the forehead.
She checked the clock; the time as barely 1100.
It was going to be a long day.
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19-18. Ziva.
She smirked; Tim had woken up, finally, with only three paper planes hanging out of his mouth. Tony had managed to capture the sight on his camera for eternity, and was currently posting the photos on his myspace.
Tony sighed. "My place, 8 o'clock. I don't serve kosher, but popcorn and movies after. That okay with you?"
Ziva walked over to her partner's desk, and leant across it to whisper into Tony's ear seductively. "I have not followed kosher for a very long time. Should I bring wine?"
Tony nodded and gulped; Ziva hadn't been this close to him in a public place for over three weeks. He could see how red and plump her lips were, how they were asking to kissed.
Ziva felt the passion radiating between them, and it was too much. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and leant in closer to his lips…
Tony copied her movement, and their lips connected, softly at first, before their tongues began a heated dance and their lips crashed passionately together.
Neither noticed McGee silently snapping photos on his phone, simultaneously sending them to Abby.
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The day had dragged on slower than anyone had expected. Both DiNozzo and David had completed their paperwork by 1500, and that was after their shootout targeting McGee. Their make out session had barely lasted a minute before they were caught by one of the other agents, which was just as well, considering the punishment they would have received by Gibbs' hand would have been far worse than what they received; covering the lunch hour babysitting duty for a mentally unstable prisoner pertinent to another team's case.
The workday at NCIS traditionally didn't finish until 1700 at the earliest, and the last two hours of this particular Monday were going slower than even Abby thought possible.
Tony had barely seen the boss all day; he had been with Director Shepard in her office since they arrived, leaving only to fetch coffee and lunch, which today had been Chinese for the pair.
In his mind, he was preparing the classic DiNozzo feast for Ziva he owed her that night. Spending the past few weeks together in the same apartment alone had caused tensions to run high, so this break, even for a few hours, would do them good.
"Anthony!"
Tony looked up from his daydreaming to see Ducky emerge from the elevator and make his way to the bull pen.
"Hey Ducky; come to save us from death by boredom?"
The older man chuckled and shook his head. "No, dear boy, but I have been given permission to examine you and Ziva the make sure you are both fit to be here, and clear you for exercise."
Ziva's head rose at his comment. Tony could almost see the wheels turning through her eyes. 'I wonder if this means he is clearing us for sex…' she thought silently. Little did she know, the same thought was running through her partner's mind.
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Gibbs emerged from the Director's office just before 1600 hours, customary scowl on his face, and strode into the bullpen, slamming a book down on his desk for good measure. The loud noise the contact made woke McGee from his fitful nap.
"Did I wake you, McGee?" he asked sarcastically as the younger man fell out of his chair.
"Nice trip Probie," Tony called, walking into the bullpen. "See you next fall," he finished before chuckling at his own joke. Ziva groaned, recognising the bad joke.
"DiNozzo," Gibbs called from his desk.
"Yes boss," the senior agent answered, sobering immediately.
"Go home before I let one of them kill you," he said, "and make sure you're on time tomorrow morning!"
Tony packed his bag and grabbed his gear in record time, calling his driver as he almost ran to the elevator. Ducky may have cleared them for some strenuous activities, but they were still yet not fit enough to drive.
Reaching the carpark the same time his driver did, Tony jumped straight into the back seat of the navy blue charger and directed the man to his apartment.
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