AN – I can honestly say I have never had such a strong reaction to a new story idea. I'm frankly a little nervous about having raised so many expectations but this is just my take on things. If you don't like it and are at all inclined I'd love to read other versions. Part 2/3.
McGee took far longer than usual deciding what to wear the following morning. He figured if DiNozzo was planning on having him spend the day mouldering down in records, or digging through dumpsters he should dress down accordingly. Except that, if he went too casual he wouldn't put it past the senior Agent to arrange to have him escort some high ranking VIP or take part in a conference call with some International leader whilst sporting an outfit that made him look more like a postgraduate student than a competent Federal Agent.
Frustrated, he scowled at his closet. He hadn't even begun the working day and DiNozzo was already messing with his head. Making his decision he finally settled on simply wearing his normal shirt, jacket and tie. He was almost about to leave his apartment, had already opened the door, when he doubled back to stuff a spare sweater and a change of pants in his bag. He did not want to repeat the ribbing he had endured the last time he had ended up needing a change of clothes and had nothing else to wear but his gym clothes.
As he rode his elevator down to the parking garage beneath his apartment block, he did his best to convince himself that he could take whatever DiNozzo could throw at him. After all, he had already worked under the man for several years. And things hadn't been that bad when Gibbs was in Mexico. Even so, he felt distinctly nervous as he got closer to the Navy Yard. Perhaps he had taken things a bit far recently. Would stopping to pick up breakfast be seen as a conciliatory gesture or would Tony just think he was brown nosing?
McGee sighed.
Whatever he did it seemed like a no win situation, might as well just keep things as close to normal as possible. Happy with that idea, he parked his car and stepped into the elevator, impulsively checking his reflection and straightening his tie. On impulse he looked at his watch, pleased to see that he had arrived a whole five minutes to spare. Not early enough to seem over keen to please, but not giving DiNozzo any other reason to yank his chain either. Pasting on a smile he strode as confidently as he could into the bullpen. Tony's desk was empty but his backpack indicted that he was around. Ziva was already at her desk quietly working, she did not look up as he entered. As he looked around, McGee was dismayed to see a large Styrofoam cup and small paper wrapped packet on Tony's desk.
"You brought him breakfast." He blurted.
"Do not make it sound as if this is so unusual, McGee," Ziva rebuked him. "It was my turn to buy."
"You sure you weren't just trying to 'suck up'?" McGee asked sourly, confident she would recognise the idiom, Tony used it often enough.
"Perhaps if I had never done such a thing before," Ziva shrugged. "However, that is far from the case and besides, I do not see what is wrong in doing something nice for my teammates on occasion."
"You didn't buy anything for me."
"You were not here."
"McGee," Tony swept in behind them. "You're late."
"No, I'm not," McGee protested, only to realise that in the time he had been talking to Ziva the clock had ticked one minute past their 'official' start time and he was still standing in the middle of the bullpen wearing his coat and holding his bag. "It's only a minute."
"It's only a minute, Boss." Tony corrected.
"It's only a minute, Boss." McGee parroted, with a pained sigh.
"A minute could make the difference between life and death McTardy," Tony rebuked him. "Turn up to a scene the minute after someone jumps off the roof or fires the killing shot and it's kinda hard to be a hero."
"Most of our victims are already dead," McGee pointed out, even as he made his way to his desk and began taking off his coat. "They tend not to notice the passage of time."
"Except, physical evidence decays, fingerprints, distinguishing marks, clothing disappears, clues get dispersed, discarded or dumped and did I say you could sit down?"
McGee froze in the act of putting away his bag. For a moment, he had forgotten Gibbs' standing orders for the day. Now technically Tony could already complain that he was late and that he had argued with a superior officer and it was less than five minutes into the day.
"Alright," He figured he might as well get it over with. "What do you want me to do? Go fetch something you don't really need from the evidence locker? Hack into some girls e-mail for you? Empty your trash basket? Lick your boots?"
"What I want, McGee," Tony gave him a mildly reproving look. "Is for you to do the job you are employed to do. Now Abby needs some help cleaning up that footage we took on that stakeout last month so we can show it to the boys and girls at JAG. So, shoo already."
All morning McGee kept waiting for the other show to drop. Tony's requests for him to fetch coffee, file paperwork, do expenses and deal with the newly transferred Metro cop who wanted Gibbs to pay a speeding ticket were all annoying but not unreasonable demands on the low Agent on the totem pole when they did not have an active case. It was plenty annoying but nothing he could actually complain about.
"My money is on Gibbs," McGee decided at lunch, after he had thoroughly deconstructed his sandwich to check for jalapeños or insects or whatever else might amuse DiNozzo to see him choke on and decided it was safe to eat. "I bet $20 Tony's under orders from Gibbs to keep things professional."
"And this would be why Gibbs keeps a bottle of acetone in his desk?" Ziva shook her head.
McGee scowled. He wished Gibbs would simply order Tony to stop putting superglue on his keyboard in the first place. The fact that he kept the solution to hand suggested he approved of the prank. Just like he tolerated Tony playing computer games on his PC, or metered out nothing more than a glare or a head slap, even for his most extreme behaviours. McGee shook his head, it wasn't that he ..
"Grab your gear," Tony interrupted his thoughts as he doubled timed it down the stairs from MTAC and made a beeline for his own desk. "There's been a report of shots fired at the security conference Gibbs is attending. The Director wants us to get down there and find out what is going on before it ends up on You Tube."
"Gibbs?" Ziva asked worriedly, even as she complied.
"Not answering his cell," Tony's tone was curt, reflecting his own concern as he reached for his own sidearm. "Probably too busy making sure he gets taken hostage. Ziva, you're driving, make like Sandra Bullock in speed. Only faster."
"That is not a problem."
"McGee, pull up all the specs for the entire building, layout, exits, maintenance access, you know the drill," Tony picked up his bag, already moving towards the elevator. "You'd think a bunch of security experts would know better than to congregate in a 5 star hotel in the middle of down town with panoramic windows."
"I hear the Chef is very good there." Ziva shrugged.
"He would need to be Bruce Willis in "Die Hard" to do us any good, right now," Tony pointed out. "I don't think a signature dish of white sausage with a side of fried spinach is going to cut it with the bad guys."
The rest of the ride down to the parking garage was silent. Only as Ziva put her foot to the floor and they sped out of the parking garage, banking a little to the right and turning McGee a light shade of green did DiNozzo speak.
"So McGee, you want to tell me why you have such a problem following my lead?"
McGee scowled as Ziva navigated the van through the clogged city streets with only the barest nod to traffic regulations. Concentrating on swallowing hard to keep his motion sickness at bay, and keep his lap top balanced on his knees as he pulled up the files Tony had asked for. he could hardly believe his ears.
"You want to talk about this now?"
"Even with Annie Porter at the wheel, we have some time before we get there," Tony allowed. "And I know you can type and talk at the same time. So, fess up, Probie. What exactly has been going on with you lately?"
"Sorry," McGee apologised insincerely. "But I really don't feel like talking about this, Boss."
"Well, that's too bad, McReticient," Tony's tone shifted from silky smooth to iron hard. "Because I have no intention of putting Gibbs' life in danger because you decide to second guess my orders at a critical moment. So either you start talking or I will kick your ass to the kerb and I won't have Ziva pull over to do it either. I'll just open the damned door." His tone brooked no argument.
"Tony, I really don't think .." McGee argued anyway.
"Start talking, McGee," Tony snapped, his voice almost Gibbs-like in its curtness. "That's an order."