Chapter Two

A smartly dressed tourist couple wandered along the streets of D.C., peering in shop windows, cooing over the expensive jewelry and electronic devices – as well as each other. This particular couple couldn't keep their hands off each other; he'd slide his hand down her back to land on her behind and she would smack it away playfully, or she would lean in to whisper something in his ear and get just close enough to nip at the lobe. The behavior annoyed the bitter love-hungry singles who wandered past – as well as a certain Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Can't you two just keep your minds on the case?" Gibbs' voice sounded in the woman's ear.

She pouted. "I am completely focused, Gibbs. I do not know about McGee . . ."

"Hey!" The man now named as McGee exclaimed, insulted. "I know what we're here to do. And Ziva and I weren't the ones who had the idea of going undercover as a couple, anyway."

"Just keep the ass-grabbing to a minimum," Gibbs' voice sounded again.

Ziva smirked. "So I can continue with the ear nipping?"

"Focus on the case, Ziva. Then you can play."

Ziva let out a purr. "Mmm, yes." She squeezed McGee's hand. "Let us finish here, then, Timothy. I do believe there is a special back at the hotel – what was it? Champagne and strawberries?"

McGee frowned. "But neither one of us even likes strawberries, Ziva."

She gave him a devious look. "Perhaps not to eat . . ."

"Ziva . . ." Gibbs' tone was dangerous.

"Of course, I can fill you in when we arrive back there," she continued, then stopped walking, causing McGee to stumble a bit, as he was still holding her hand.

"What is it, Ziva?" he hissed.

She tipped her head towards a couple walking on the opposite side of the street. "Them. They seem . . . familiar."

McGee raised an eyebrow at her. "Hinky familiar?"

Ziva nodded slowly. "Yes. A bit. I am not sure why. But I do not like things feeling hinky." She raised her arm and spoke into her bracelet. "Hinky Alert on young couple walking along South Michigan, 500 block. He is white with curly brown hair, she is Asian."

The message was sent back to NCIS, where desk agents would recover video footage and begin an identity search. The Hinky Alerts were used when spies in the field felt there was something off about a certain person, or persons, or if a situation felt wrong. It was all part of the NCIS motto: "Go with your gut."

"Come on," McGee urged softly, tugging on Ziva's hand. "We don't want to arouse suspicion."

She turned back to him. "You had me at arouse. Shall we?" She slid her hand from his grasp and snaked it around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Back at NCIS Headquarters, Gibbs sat at his desk, shaking his head. He knew he never should have put those two together as an undercover couple. Ziva's mind was constantly on sex and McGee, well, he just couldn't say no to the woman. Gibbs couldn't blame him, really – Ziva was hot. But it was still distracting to their work and he wasn't sure if it was the best idea to put them together in that situation. Still, he had to admit, they worked well together and didn't, as McGee put it, "arouse suspicion" from everyday citizens and, more importantly, their enemies. There was always someone to find and put away, whether it was the CIA (Correlation of Idiotic Americans) or the FBI (Fornell's Body of Investigators – okay, that was a pretty small group, just Fornell and his team, but still, they were bad guys) or just plain out murderers or grave robbers. Yes, NCIS was all about keeping America safe from harm, and if that meant shooing stupid people off the streets and into federal prisons, well, NCIS was there to do that. And Gibbs, as Head of NCIS, was there to keep everything organized and running smoothly, even if that meant . . .

Gibbs stood from his desk, his chair falling over softly to the floor. "What the hell is that?"