"Honeybuns," Gibbs growled.
"Big Boy," Tony responded coyly.
"Sex Machine".
"Gunnybear."
"You just made that one up," Gibbs accused.
"Yeah," Tony agreed. "It's good though."
Ziva and McGee stood out of sight of the bullpen, gazing at each other in horror.
"I can't stop thinking about you," Gibbs mused.
"About my hot body," Tony amended helpfully.
"Yep." A pause. "I want to drizzle honey all over you and lick it off."
"Nice, Boss." Tony sounded genuinely impressed.
McGee risked a quick glance around the partition and saw Tony's sitting at his desk, Gibbs close beside him, their heads almost touching.
Tony thought for a moment. "I can't wait to press my mouth all over you, your fingers running through my hair as I set your body on fire with my lips and tongue."
McGee recoiled and looked at Ziva, eyes wide. She raised her hand to her mouth and shook her head. He wondered if she was resisting laughing or throwing up.
"Good stuff," Gibbs murmured softly.
"More?" they heard Tony ask.
"I will never forget our nights together, your body hard against mine, touching, caressing, our sweat mingling, our limbs entwined, until we exploded in mutual passion." Gibbs voice was low, thoughtful.
"Over and over again," Tony added.
"Right."
Silence.
"You two gonna stand there all day or do you plan on coming back to your desks?" Gibbs asked the question quietly, but there was no doubt to whom it was directed. McGee and Ziva looked at each other and each drew a deep breath. Ziva tucked her hair behind her ears, McGee straightened his tie. They exchanged a nod and then stepped out together from behind the partition.
"Boss," McGee said smoothly. "Tony."
Ziva just nodded.
Neither Gibbs nor Tony acknowledged their greeting. They simply stayed sitting side by side, leaning in towards each other. Tony looking at his computer screen, fingers poised over his keyboard.
"How big am I?" Tony asked.
"Huge," Gibbs replied fervently.
McGee strangled a moan. Ziva sat straight in her chair and silently recited the periodic table of elements in Hebrew. She was a trained Mossad assassin. She could withstand torture. She could withstand this. She could.
"How long have we been doing this now?" Tony asked contemplatively.
"Six months?"
"Sounds about right. Started at the office Christmas party."
Gibbs gave a quiet huff of laughter. "You were wearing those really tight jeans that showed off your ass."
"And there was mistletoe," Tony reminded him.
"Lots of mistletoe. And egg nog."
"I'll never forget your eggnog kisses," Tony sighed dramatically.
It was too much. Ziva shot up from her desk. "Stop this!" she demanded. "Now! It is... it is..."
"Oh c'mon Ziva," Tony protested. "Don't be so unromantic."
Gibbs chuckled.
The Israeli threw her hands in the air and let fly with a string of language that, had they understood it, would have had her on report.
Tony and Gibbs simply looked at her. When she stopped, they turned in unison to look at McGee.
He kept his eyes fixed on his computer keyboard. "What she just said," he affirmed without looking at them, "but in English."
Tony clicked his tongue. "Doesn't sound like they want to join in, Boss."
"Pity," Gibbs responded. "They would have been good, both of them. And we could really have done with a woman's involvement."
Ziva made the same noise a cat makes if you slam its tail in the door of a dishwasher.
"Again, what she just said," McGee endorsed. He paused, then added, "not that there's anything wrong with that."
There was a moment of silence.
"Maybe we could ask Abby," Tony suggested.
Gibbs stood and slowly walked back to his desk. "I am sure Abby would be happy to help, but she's not quite what I had in mind." He sat down.
"Probie could really have helped us out," Tony noted sadly.
McGee's jaw clenched, but he did not respond.
"Yep," Gibbs agreed. "McGee is just what we needed. Being a writer and all."
That made him look up. "What do you mean, being a writer and all?" McGee exchanged a glance with Ziva but she looked as confused as he felt.
Gibbs looked at the junior agent in exasperation. "Weren't you listening earlier? Part of Tony's cover is that he is having an affair with someone on the base. We put some hot and spicy emails in his inbox and the hacker wont being able to resist reading them. Abby's embedding a program so we can track whoever opens them. I had thought you could write them for us, but you were too busy having a long lunch."
McGee swallowed.
Gibbs stood up and moved away from his desk. "I'm going to check on Abby's progress. DiNozzo, you're with me."
Tony leapt up from his desk bounded after the team leader into the lift.
Ziva glared at McGee. "This is your fault," she snapped. "You made me look like a putz."
McGee's mouth dropped open.
"Do not deny it! A shmoe," Ziva continued, rising and advancing towards him across the bullpen, "a shmuck, a..... a ..... shmeggegie!"
McGee stood to confront her. "How is this my fault?!"
"You were eavesdropping first! If I had not seen you eavesdropping I would not have listened!"
"Yes you would!" McGee protested. They glared at each other for a moment longer, before Ziva spat out a word McGee did not even want to understand, turned and stalked back to her desk.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, and then McGee sat bolt upright in his chair. "Whoa!" he exclaimed.
"What now Mc.. Mc.. McFool?" Ziva finished, inadequately she thought.
But McGee's fingers were flying over his keyboard, his eyes fixed on his monitor.
Ziva sensed that this was important. "Put on the plasma!" she demanded.
Suddenly images were flying across the screen as McGee raced from directory to directory, folder to folder.
"There!" McGee announced triumphantly.
Ziva recognised the photo. She should – she had taken it. It showed Tony and Gibbs at last year's office Christmas party. A small sprig of greenery could be seen in the top on the photo above their heads. Tony wore blue jeans and a big smile. Gibbs wore an eggnog moustache.