March 4
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - Edmund Burke.
Sometimes, Timothy McGee wished Tony knew how to let something go and keep his mouth shut.
At least that way Ziva wouldn't, at this precise moment, have caught him in a head lock, yelping in pain and trying to fight back.
In the middle of the bull pen.
"Zivaaaaa!" He whined, placing his hands over hers in an attempt to pry her fingers apart. "The whole squad room is watching."
"I do not care."
"Gibbs is going to-"
"I do not care." She hissed in his ear, tightening her grip for emphasis. "Take it back."
"It's not my fault you can't take a joke."
"I saw it as a challenge, not a joke." She mocked him, swiftly moving her body as he tried tripping her up. "You will not be able to get free."
Surprisingly enough, the day had started like any other... Until Tony decided searching through phone records bored him, so teasing his partner seemed the more entertaining choice. One wrong comment, a quick witted joke and a flying stapler later and here they were.
McGee could have stepped in. But then Ziva would kill him. He could leave. But then Tony would kill him. So he watched. And waited.
"You know I could get out of this if I wanted to." Tony tried to gloat, snaking an arm around Ziva's waist.
"Because you have done so well in the last few minutes." Ziva replied sarcastically.
"You're forgetting the one important factor from all of this that means you're going to release me in precisely 5 seconds."
McGee sat forward on the edge of his chair, intrigued at the way Ziva frowned. Tony mumbled something under his breath that only she could hear and sure enough, she let go. Straightening out his shirt and running a hand through his hair, Tony sat back at his desk while Ziva did the same.
They looked as though nothing had even happened.
McGee couldn't believe it.
"Probie!" Tony shouted, grinning like a fool as McGee almost fell off his chair. "Get back to work, McSlacker."