AN: Set after Chapter 3 of 'Facing Their Partners'. Review and tell me what missing scenes you want to see!
Owen Granger resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall, he didn't feel like giving himself a concussion or facing Henrietta's wrath for 'damaging history'. Why the powers that be decided on an old Spanish era building as a home for recalcitrant and highly skilled NCIS agents with short tempers and quicker fists was beyond him. He was surprised the damn thin hadn't burned down from within.
Anyway, he shook his shoulders and straightened up. Back to why he wanted cause himself bodily harm.
Manage the OSP Office they said, less politics than Washington and more complex operations they said. The weather was pretty much perfect and the people more interesting.
Owen shook his head in frustration. He should have been suspicious at the mention of 'interesting people'. He had been seduced by the opportunity to work with and annoy Henrietta again. Not to mention the stories he'd heard about these people that worked for her.
Too bad no one had mentioned how crazy these people were.
Seriously, Agent Callen was meant to be one of the best operatives who had ever worked for NCIS and Agent Hanna had the best work ethic and strategic mind that even the military envied. Agent Blye had a skill set few could compare to with that rifle and wit of hers and even Detective Deeks was strangely competent and highly valued. Then there were those two meerkats, as he had taken to calling them. They were some of the best intelligent minds he had ever seen. Why were they all so strange?
He had witnessed more strange behaviour in this office than he had seen with his old team in Vietnam, Afghanistan and the old Czechoslovakia. And he had been partners with Henrietta Lange.
Was it Henrietta? That woman had a tendency towards the odd and terrifying. And, of course, each of those people he had just mention met those parameters perfectly.
None of that explained the two scenes he just interrupted. Wasn't there a rule about that sort of behaviour? Where was Gibbs when you needed him? Owen groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying really hard not to listen to the conversation that was going on at the other end of Ops.
He wasn't sure what pair was odder, Blye and Deeks or Beale and Jones. And, of course, he had to encounter them at their weirdest today.
Blye and Deeks disturbed him on the best of days with their antics but he really didn't want to know what might have happened if he hadn't interrupted them. He was half tempted to go back to the meerkats and ask them about Blye and Deeks' so called 'backstory' for their 'cover'. He needed some chaos that he could control today.
He cocked his ear towards their desks. They were frantically whispering about something that was definitely not related to work. Jones appeared to be scolding Beale about something as well as soothing him at the same time. Beale just sounded terrified and kept glancing at him as if he was a fox ad Beale was a mouse.
Nope, definitely didn't need to stir that pot at the moment. He'd bring it up at a more opportune time. Hopefully with Blye and Deeks present for optimal nonsensical babbling.
Hey, he had to get his little pleasures somewhere.
"Eric, a tyre is not something you can add your 'flash-bangs' to!"
"I didn't mean while they were still on a car!"
That was his cue to leave. Why did it feel like he was managing a kindergarten?
"I'm pretty sure that reclassifies it as a weapon."
"That's the whole point, Nell."
Make that a day-care. At least kindergartners could be trusted to use scissors appropriately, most of the time.
He swiftly moved past them, footsteps not making a sound as they bickered over tyres and explosives of all things. He'd have to check their search history later to make sure they weren't trying to take over the world or something.
Peering cautiously around the open corridor, Owen heaved a sigh of relief. Blye and Deeks had left, hopefully to their own desks.
"Everything okay, Owen?"
Owen would never admit it, but he had jumped at the sudden sound of Henrietta's voice. See what this office had done to him?
He glared at the diminutive woman. As usual, she remained unfazed.
"Hmpf," he responded.
"Our team?" she questioned knowingly.
"Your team," he growled.
She just hummed in agreement, making her way down the stairs. He followed, grumbling.
"Do you know even half of what they get up to?" he demanded as he slumped in the chair in front of her desk.
"Oh, I know everything they get up to," she said, rummaging in that blessed top drawer of hers.
He didn't doubt it and gave her a hopeful look.
Finally, she brandished an aged bottle.
"Need some liquid courage, Owen?" she teased.
"Yes," he said unashamedly, just about restraining himself from grabbing the whole bottle.
"You don't even have the whole story," she mock-scolded.
"At least conference calls are good for something," he said blandly, sipping his measure. "Did I hear something about a tyre?"
Henrietta settled herself into her chair more comfortably with a fond smile, "It started this morning when Mr Callen asked me for a for a free morning for 'sharpening skills'…"