A/N: Okay, so NCIS is apparently my latest obsession and since I've now read nearly every fanfic on here, I thought I'd chuck my hat into the ring, so to speak. This is inspired by the preview for the next episode, since I'm loving the whole 'buddy movie' vibe they've got going with McGee and DiNozzo at the moment and I love the idea of them getting arrested together... here's my take on that situation. Strong hints of Tiva and McAbby, since my little shipper heart is all excited by the prospect of some actual steps forward in Season 7. Reviews and constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Disclaimer: Obviously, NCIS and all its various associated intellectual properties do not belong to me. Quelle surprise.
Bail me out
"Nobody knows... the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows my sorrow..." Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sang softly, before taking a deep breath and putting a little more basso profundo into it. "No-bo-dy knooows..."
"Would you stop singing that damn song?" demanded Special Agent Timothy McGee, currently sitting alongside DiNozzo on the single bunk that was the only place to sit in the dingy cell they were presently occupying.
"Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood a little, McCritic." Tony shuffled around a little, trying to get more comfortable. His left ass cheek was going to sleep. God, he envied it.
"Lighten the mood? We're in jail, Tony, in case you hadn't noticed."
"You know, I thought the Hilton was going a little downhill... Of course I noticed, McGee. I was there, remember." Tony sighed and started tapping out a rhythm on the side of the bunk.
"Okay, no singing and no drumming, either," McGee said, his nerves thoroughly frayed by this point.
"Man, I'm bored."
McGee rolled his eyes. "That's shocking."
"They should have a big-screen TV in here or something... Look at all that wasted wall space."
"I hardly think entertaining the inmates is their major concern."
"I guess not." Tony looked curiously around the cell and failed to find anything new to focus on. He glanced over at McGee who was nervously wringing his hands together. "Relax, McGee. It could be worse."
McGee shot him an incredulous look, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say. Eventually, he decided to just change the subject. "So... your phone call. Who'd you ring? Gibbs?"
Now it was Tony's turn to look incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Do I look like I have a death wish?" He sighed and flopped back against the wall of the cell. "I called Ziva. I mean, sure, it gives her a licence to mock me for the rest of our natural lives, but at least I don't end up with brain damage from all the head slaps." He shot McGee a suspicious look. "You didn't call Gibbs, did you?"
"God, no!" McGee's denial was heartfelt. "I, um, called Abby."
"Reeeaaaallly?" Tony's grin was of Cheshire Cat proportions.
"It's not like that," McGee insisted, feeling his face flush despite his best attempts to play it cool. "She's a friend, helping out another... friend. I'd do the same for her."
"Of course you would, McRomeo. Because you're a sap."
"Oh, like you wouldn't go running to Ziva's aid the moment she so much as crooked her finger."
Tony narrowed his eyes. "That's beside the point." There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence. "So, how long you reckon until they get here and bail us out?"
"They are already here," came a familiar voice from outside the cell.
Tony leapt to his feet, his face lighting up. "That's my ninja," he said, dashing over to the bars and grabbing hold of them as Ziva tilted her head on one side and looked him up and down. "God, you look beautiful, babe."
"Do not call me 'babe'."
"Whatever you say, sweet cheeks."
Ziva sighed the sigh of long-suffering women everywhere. She nodded towards the police officer standing nearby. "Release him. Please."
The officer unlocked the bars and gestured for the two men to come out. Tony barrelled past him and swooped Ziva up into a bear hug, making her squeak in surprise before he released her. As they headed out of the jail, in perfect step with each other as always, their voices floated back towards McGee.
"I owe you big time for this one."
"I shall add it to the reckoning."
"How about I treat you to dinner tomorrow night for a start?"
"It may take several dinners before we are even. Possibly even a movie or two." Her voice was coy, with a hint of shyness - not something McGee usually associated with the former Mossad officer.
"Well, never let it be said that DiNozzos don't pay their debts." Tony's voice was huskier than usual, his tone saying something entirely different to his words, and McGee somehow knew that if he was able to see them they'd be staring into each other's eyes and making everyone around them intensely uncomfortable. That was beginning to be a regular occurrence these days.
Just then, what sounded like a herd of baby elephants thundered towards him and he found himself enveloped in a patented Abby-hug. He savoured the brief moment of physical contact and tried to pretend he wasn't surreptitiously smelling her hair.
"Oh, Timmy... you had me so worried! I got here as fast as I can, but the traffic is surprisingly heavy for this time of night. You'd think people had better places to be – apart from us obviously, since we're always up and working at weird times – but most people are supposed to be on the old 9-to-5 so they really should be getting a good night's sleep, and..."
"Woah, Abby. Slow down, there." He looked at her suspiciously. "How many Caf-Pows have you had today?"
"Today, today? Cause technically 'today' only started, like, an hour and seven minutes ago, so by that reckoning I've only had one... But I was so scared you might get hurt! I mean, you hear stories about what goes on in jail, and I know not everyone is guilty 'cause – hello! wrongful arrest right here! – but I had visions of you being thrown in a cell with some big, scary biker named Bubba..."
"Nope, just Tony," McGee interrupted. "Although after a couple of hours of him, Bubba would have frankly come as something of a relief..."
Abby smacked him on the arm. "Ow!"
"Don't even joke about that! You are never to worry me like this again, you hear me, McGee?"
McGee smiled. She cared. "Yes, dear," he said.
Abby shook her head and linked her arm through his, dragging him away from the cell and towards freedom and fresh air. "Don't 'yes, dear' me, Timothy McGee," she warned.
McGee let his smile grow wider. "No, dear," he said.