Fraternization at the Workplace
A/N: I do not own NCIS.
"Guess what day it is!" Tony DiNozzo shouted as he sauntered into the bullpen with a smirk upon his face. Ziva and McGee were both sitting at their desks, typing away and rolled their eyes upon Tony's entrance. He was always up to something.
"What day is it?" Ziva decided to play along.
"It's April Fool's, Zee-vah," Tony rolled his eyes.
"Oh, is that what day it is?" McGee asked with feigned concern, "I forgot."
"Yup – and you know what that means."
"What does that mean?" Ziva turned to McGee.
"It means hell for us."
"Joy," Ziva returned to her typing as Tony promenaded over to his desk across from Ziva's.
"I'd be scared if I were you."
"Tony, I am not afraid of anything – including a thirty-four Italian with the mindset of a pubescent adolescent still waiting in anxious anticipation for his balls to drop."
McGee's eyes widened in shock.
"Wow," Tony was taken back too by her comment, "Nice one, Zi. I think I am rubbing off on you."
"Please," she smirked, "Don't you think I am perfectly capable of whit myself?"
"Well I am. I'll have you know I was quite the prankster myself back in school."
"You?" Tony laughed, "HA!"
"It's true. Anyone messed with me…"
"They didn't live to tell the tale."
The trio looked up to see Jethro Gibbs entering the pen with a smirk on his face. He sauntered over to the middle of the pen and flipped the switch. A projector screen descended and McGee stood, allowing the boss to have his desk for whatever computer work he was about to do.
"Hi, Boss!" Tony grinned.
"DiNozzo, wipe that stupid looking smile off your face. We've got business today. I just got the call telling us that General Mary's…" Tony snorted with personal amusement at the name, "wife was found beaten to death in their home. The thing is, our wonderful General has apparently skipped town and no one can reach him."
"Want me to pull up his files?"
"Yeah," Gibbs nodded to McGee, "You can run files and DiNozzo, Ziva, and I are going to check out the scene."
"Suit up," Gibbs called to the two, "And Tony, are you still really waiting with 'anxious anticipation' for them to drop?"
Tony growled, glaring daggers at Ziva who smiled innocently, excusing herself to the lockers. They shared a single locker room, not common protocol, considering the women's locker room had flooded, but there was a set of lockers separating the men's side from the women's side. Ziva walked over to hers and applied the combination.
"You think you're so smart?" Tony called to her from his side.
"Yes, actually. Why?"
She rolled her eyes, still trying to get accustomed to his behavior. It had been almost five years since she had worked NCIS and almost one since she had been an agent and still, she wasn't used to Tony. Just when she thought she understood him, he went and did something so unpredict…
"Tony!" Ziva shouted, "What the hell is that!"
"What do you mean, love?"
"That…that thing in my locker!"
"Oh that. That's a sandwich."
"From what decade?"
"I dunno. I've had it for almost two months now. I've been keeping it to slip in McGee's desk but this was just too much fun. Ha, you scream like a girl."
"I am a girl, Tony," Ziva said, her voice cool, clipped.
"Wouldn't have guessed."
Ziva glared at the composting pile of rot and smirked. Tony thought he could push her around with no payback? He should have known better. Ziva picked up the sandwich, stood on the bench, and peered out over the top of the lockers at Tony. He was in the process of changing from his khaki pants into the blue ones when he felt something splat against his back.
"Are you kidding me?"
"It's a good scent on you. It goes with your personality – rotten."
"You'll pay, Zee-vah," Tony hissed.
"Yeah well, we'll see about that."
She quickly changed, her skin prickling at the thought of Tony only a few feet away. He was driving her absolutely crazy.
"Ready?" He asked.
Tony and Ziva left the locker room, and the sandwich behind. She couldn't help but notice, as she walked behind him, that he carried the unique scent of compost. It was quite amusing. As they entered the bullpen, McGee started sniffing, then checking his shoes.
"What is that?"
"What is what?" Tony asked, as if daring him to answer.
"Come on!" Gibbs barked, "You two are riding with me."
"But, Boss, I usually take Bessie…"
"Bessie," Ziva let out a muffled snicker.
"Not today. You two are leaving your cars and riding with me. No excuses."
Tony and Ziva shot each other a questioning look. Neither knew what Gibbs was up to and is was quite disconcerting. They made their way to the parking garage and Tony headed towards the shotgun seat of the Jag.
"You smell like shit, DiNozzo. Backseat."
Ziva smirked as she pushed past him to the front. Riding in Gibbs' car was not a usual occurrence. In fact, this was the first time either of them had been in his car. It was small, sleek, and the backseat was practically nonexistent. Tony had to sit with knees uncomfortably to his ears.
"You okay, Tony?" Ziva asked.
"You know, some medical doctors prescribe certain deodorants for excessive body odor, you might want to check into it."
Tony glared at her and mouthed the words, "I hate you."
"So, Boss, who found the body?"
"The neighbors. They called the police who did a thorough investigation. The medical examiner pronounced her dead about two weeks ago. The neighbors noticed the suspicious smell…"
"DiNozzo, here," Gibbs pulled out the 'forest mist' air freshener from the glove box and reached back, placing it over his ear, "Should help."
"Thanks, Boss," Tony hissed.
"What do we know about the general?" Ziva asked.
"Decorated. A good man."
"Who just happened to snap and beat the crap out of his wife? Sounds like a good man to me."
"DiNozzo, you are speculating," Gibbs shot him a look in the rear-view-mirror, "We don't know he did it. We need to check out all of our options before deciding, alright?"
"How the hell did you get that nauseating smell?" His boss demanded.
"A run in with a PMSing sandwich."
"It wasn't PMSing," Ziva rolled her eyes, "It was angry to have been left in a locker overnight."
"It's been left in my desk for a month!"
"Either way, it was gross."
"Tell me about it! It was hurled at me because it was PMSing."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs glared at him, "What have I told you about curse words?"
"PMSing is a curse word?" Ziva asked.
"To guys it is," Tony filled her in, "Especially in regards to you."
"So what, do you like shoot people if you don't get chocolate."
"Basically, only for me, it is not chocolate, it's peppermint."
"Nice," Tony nodded.
"DiNozzo! Stop discussing Agent David's hormones," Gibbs ordered, "We're stopping at Wal-Green's first. I need to pick up some Lysol."
"For the car, Boss?"
"No, DiNozzo, for you."