Title: Read About It
Author: Leevee
Rating: Teen
Genre: Crossover (NCIS/CSI), Casefile
Disclaimer: I own not CSI or anything affiliated therewith. Same with NCIS. I also took the title for this from a song by The Living End, so I don't own that, either.
Issue 02
Tony's eyes were staring at his computer screen, entirely unfocused and glazed over. He had been researching… something… And he had now totally forgotten what. In lieu of catching up on his paperwork, he started balling up pieces of paper and tossing them at Kate. Whenever Kate looked up from the stack of papers on her desk to glower at him, he switched to innocently throwing them into a trash can. McGee was wisely keeping his head down. Gibbs had gone to get coffee, or talk to Abby or Ducky, or wander about the building scaring the interns. Tony had caught him at it once, although the intern in question was a rugby player with a fisheye stare, so it hadn't been too effective. Still, it was the principle of the matter.
Five minutes of annoying-the-hell-out-of-Kate later and Tony was getting bored. So he decided to share. "I'm booored," he informed them in a tone just short of a whine. Or not quite so short, but he wasn't going to admit to it.
"Try doing your work," snapped Kate irritably, slamming – sorry, forcibly moving one thick folder full of paper to the top of a stack that was slowing growing taller than Kate was herself. "It'll give you something to do."
Tony eyed the tower doubtfully. "What, get myself crushed to death with paperwork? My hobbies run more toward the non-lethal. You go right on ahead, though." She shot him another dark look before opening the next folder and settling in. He tapped his pen on the desk a few times, then turned to face McGee. "Whatcha doing, Probie?"
McGee jumped a little and then started stuttering something about updating the network or something, and then a series of things with letters and numbers and Tony held up a hand. "Come on, Probie, I don't speak geek. Next time, just say 'computer stuff'." McGee gave him a bewildered look and went back to his rapid typing, leaving Tony to lean his chair all the way back and enjoy the momentary panic of the half-second when it seemed like the chair was going to fall over. It was the only adrenaline rush he was going to get any time soon.
As it just so happened, Tony was wrong. He didn't much mind; it happened a lot more often than the alternative. Gibbs stormed through the office and over to his desk, where he retrieved his gun and grabbed a bag that Tony knew held a change of clothes and the bare essentials. He had one too, although his actually had two changes of clothes, just in case. Ever since that one time when he got stuck in Ducky's uniform, he didn't take chances.
"Get your gear, we're going to Vegas."
Tony grinned brightly at the other two as he grabbed his own gun and bag, giving a little excited jump, but toning down his natural reaction with the memory of all the other "fun" and "exotic" locales they had been to in the past. It was like when he was a kid and they'd go on vacation to Switzerland and he'd break his leg the first day and spend the rest of the time on a couch reading mystery novels. Trips, he was learning, never lived up to the hype.
One long, boring plane ride later and Tony had just gathered more material to support his theory of leaving home equals bad. He had managed to spill his Sprite all down his front when the plane hit turbulence in the middle of the flight, and Kate had spent the rest of the flight smirking at him.
They had grabbed a rental car from one of the billions of car rental agencies at the airport, not wanting to be dependant on the Las Vegas Metro PD for transportation in addition to lab facilities and the rest. No one had yet asked why they were being called in on a case that was under the Southwest Field Office's jurisdiction, trusting that Gibbs would tell them. Or, at least, that Gibbs knew what he was doing. He probably wouldn't tell them. Gibbs was like that.
Tony made sure he was buckled in tightly and grabbed the handhold. Gibbs was driving, and he was not in a good mood. They had been out of coffee by the time the drink cart had gotten back to them on the plane. This couldn't bode well.
As the car squealed and screeched through suburban Las Vegas, Gibbs had Kate navigating to the crime scene. Of course, the body and most of the key evidence had been removed hours ago, but the LVMPD and crime lab guys who had worked the scene were going to run them through it. Probably against their will, because nobody ever worked with NCIS willingly. Except that one sheriff who had the hots for Gibbs. Or that other chick who had the hots for Gibbs. Alright, revised: Nobody ever worked with NCIS willingly unless attracted to Gibbs. He nodded to himself.
They pulled up in front of the club which, like all clubs, looked like a drab building with no windows in the daytime. Yellow crime scene tape was stretched somewhat haphazardly across the doorway and there was already a SUV and car pulled in front of the building.
Tony plastered his best smile across his face as he got out the car. A fully caffeinated Gibbs was hell on local law enforcement agencies; a Gibbs without his coffee… this could be dangerous.