A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates. School is insane, and things are getting crazy elsewhere too. But here is a little mini-update from the last episode. I had another, longer one half-typed, but that ended being complete crap. So here is my attempt at a straight-up comedy!

Also, I want to give everyone a heads-up... There will be no postings over the summer. I know, I know, that's when we need them the most, but it can't be helped. I am going to boot for 13 weeks, starting in early May, where I will be without telephones and computers for the duration. And trust me, I will be missing writing this stuff as much as you'll miss reading it. But I am coming to school in the fall, never fear, so I will be more than ready to take on the new season!

Also, I am keeping the two story lines (featured in "Something More" and "Something More Addendum") separate. They can stand alone, so I think I will let them. I will change the title of the Addendum to something more catchy, and will make a note in the summary to check out this story for a more solid background, just for future reference.

So I will write as much as I can until early May, and then it will be dead for 13 weeks until I return from boot... whoever heard of a fanfic-writing Marine? I just love being part of the minority ;)

Thanks for reading!

"Something weird is going on."

Tony and McGee were each sitting at their desks in the otherwise empty bullpen. Gibbs and Ziva had already left to go investigate their victim's recently located car, leaving the remaining two agents to chase other possible leads. At least, that was what McGee was doing. Tony, McGee knew, was just getting started on what the computer geek knew was going to be a very annoying conversation.

"What do you mean, Tony?" McGee delivered obediently, knowing the senior field agent would not shut up until he got whatever this was out of his system.

"Gibbs chose Ziva over me," Tony pointed out. "Which is absurd. I mean, I am senior field agent. I have more experience. And, let's face it: I'm better looking." McGee sighed in resignation. So it was one of these conversations.

"Not really all that absurd, Tony," he said. "Abby is working on some secret project, which our victim had some kind of connection to. Ziva has more experience in the field of espionage than you do. And no—" he cut off Tony's oncoming remark. "Watching all the James Bond movies doesn't count." Tony visibly deflated. "Not only that, she also doesn't talk as much you do. She's actually the more logical choice." McGee paused. "And she's more attractive."

"Oh ho ho," Tony laughed. "Better not let Crazy Ninja Chick hear you say that. You'll be singing soprano for a month!" Then Tony returned to the topic at hand. "But seriously. What's up with the favoritism?"

"What favoritism, Tony?" McGee asked in exasperation. "I already told you why Gibbs had every logical reason to choose Ziva over you." Suddenly, McGee stopped typing, a brilliant idea forming in his mind. The next moment he was typing just as quickly as before, with Tony none the wiser. "Well, there is that other thing." At this, Tony perked up like a dog catching wind of a bone. He stood, and not-so-casually strolled to McGee's desk.

"What other thing?" he asked, tucking his thumbs in his belt loops. McGee fought a smile.

"You haven't felt the tension around here lately?" Tim asked, staying in character. "It's so thick you could cut it with a knife."

"I haven't—"

"I mean, you'd think they'd be able to hide more efficiently. You know, with Gibbs being a Marine, and Ziva a Mossad officer. But they've really been letting it show lately." He glanced at Tony. "You sure you haven't noticed?"

"What are you talking about, McProbius?"

"Oh come on, Tony," McGee continued. "I know you must be familiar with it by now. Everyone gets that feeling every now and then."

"What feeling?"

"You know, that burning sensation in your gut when you see someone. It starts out small, sometimes, but little by little grows as you spend more time with that person. It grows until it makes your stomach churn and your senses tingle whenever you see that special someone." McGee leaned back in his chair, getting into his little spiel. "If you're not careful, it can turn into a wildfire, affecting everything that gets in its way. It gets to the point where you can't think about anything else, and your entire existence revolves around your intense feeling for that one person."

"Wh—Bu—I know that feeling," Tony said finally. He leaned over McGee's desk conspiratorially. "You don't think Gibbs and Ziva—"

"Oh yeah," McGee said, continuing to type on his computer. "I think they most definitely do."

"No…"

"Yes…"

"Really?"

"Really really."

"You think Gibbs and Ziva—"

"Hate you."

"lov—Wait, what?" Tony was visibly struggling to see where the conversation had changed directions. McGee finally allowed himself a smug grin.

"I think they might very possibly hate you, Tony," he explained. "I mean, you and your antics have made things extremely tense around here. Not to mention incredibly difficult to work. And with Abby's safety on the line, it's no wonder Gibbs decided to leave you here." He scoffed. "You actually thought Gibbs and Ziva were—" He let the sentence hang. "Now that is absurd."

"But—" Tony sounded genuinely offended, but then saw the glorified grin on the Probie's face. "That was cold, McHurtful. No probie snacks for you." With that he turned and stalked back to his own desk, leaving McGee to smile sunnily as he clicked away on his keyboard. A few minutes later, it occurred to him that Tony may have actually been hurt by his words, so he quickly peeked in the senior field agent's direction. To his relief the man seemed unfazed, as he was busy chatting up the secretary from the front desk downstairs. Tall, blonde, killer legs… yup, McGee determined. Not fazed at all.

Six hours later, Gibbs and Ziva had returned, new evidence had been taken into account, and now Gibbs had left once more, this time selecting Tony to accompany him. McGee was silently joyful; he was sure that if Tony had been left behind again, he would have never let it go. And so now Tim and Ziva were quietly working in the bullpen. McGee was just starting to relax and lose himself in the workings of his computer when Ziva spoke up, voicing a question that elicited tortured groan and an undignified thud as Tim allowed his forehead to drop to the desk in defeat.

"Why do you think Gibbs picked Tony instead of me?"