Raining Umbrellas

By EmyPink

Disclaimer: All names and trademarks recognised as "NCIS" do not belong to me; I've just borrowed the characters for my own purposes.

Rating: K+

Parings: None

Genre: General, Fluff, Friendship

Warnings: None; set sometime late season three to early season four

Summary: Where's the umbrella when you need it?

A/N Over on NFA (NCIS Fanfiction Addiction forums) we had an auction to raise money for Haiti, inspired by the LiveJournal one. This is a ficlet for Andi with the prompt: Tim/Ziva friendship and "can't find the umbrella."

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"McGee!" Ziva called, glaring at the figure in front of her. It was raining heavily and she was soaked to the bone with strands of matted hair clinging unflatteringly to her face. "Did you actually remember to bring an umbrella?"

McGee looked up from where he was crouched on the muddy ground. He had been shifting frantically through their equipment bags for an umbrella. He swore he'd packed one . . . or maybe he was just really, really hoping he had. There were two reasons for this: 1) their evidence would get waterlogged very soon and 2) Ziva was already soaking and in a bad mood.

"McGee!" Ziva called impatiently again. She was babysitting the evidence from their secondary crime scene and trying futilely to protect it from the rain. "Just forget about it," she finally sighed, "and help with the evidence."

McGee nodded distractedly. It was obvious there was no umbrella and they'd have to do what they could to preserve the evidence. Completely soaked through and with muddy shoes, McGee stood and rushed over to Ziva.

"In here," he said as he reached her. He had the opening of the bag unzipped and was cradling it in his arms. The other bag was swung over his shoulder and only just repelling the large drops of rain.

Ziva gave him a 'no, really?' look and reached down the front of her jacket to remove the three plastic evidence bags that she'd been keeping relatively safe there. McGee manoeuvred the bag as close as he possibly could to Ziva who deposited the evidence bags into the backpack with a frown.

He zipped up the bag and gave Ziva a slight nod. She glared at him reply and he blushed slightly. Then, scathingly, she asked, "You do remember where we parked the car?"

"Of course." He blushed a bit more and winced at how teenage boyish he was reacting. Anyone could have forgotten the umbrella, even Ziva herself. "This way." He strode off purposely, hoping that he could somehow regain some of his dignity.

Ziva slipped the bag with the evidence over her shoulder and started after McGee. The rain, while it hadn't got any worse, hadn't let up either and made it slightly hard to walk. It didn't help that matted wet hair kept falling into her eyes. She sighed, but she guessed it could have happened to anyone. And it wasn't really McGee's fault . . . well, not really.

She picked up her pace and finally settled next to a desolated McGee. Ziva had to bite back a laugh; it was only a forgotten umbrella after all. And while she didn't like being this wet, she'd been in worse. "Cheer up, McGee. It is not so bad."

McGee gave her a slightly accusing look. "Not that bad? Ziva, the evidence could be contaminated for all we know. And just because I forget to grab an umbrella before we left NCIS."

Ziva shrugged. "You could hardly know that it would get this bad," she reasoned.

"You've changed your tune," McGee frowned.

Ziva shrugged again. "I am annoyed. But a little bit of rain is hardly the end of the world, yes?"

"It will be if the evidence is soggy," McGee sighed sadly, shaking his head. "Gibbs will kill me."

"Us," Ziva corrected. "Gibbs will kill us. I am here too." She smirked a little. "Why could it not have been Tony sent out on this mission."

That managed to bring a small smile to McGee's face "He'd hate it more than you and me combined."

"Exactly," Ziva nodded, imaging just how grumpy Tony would have been if he'd returned to NCIS soaking wet. "But it is not, unfortunately."

"Yeah," McGee echoed, pulling his jacket closer to his body. As well as pouring down, the temperature had dropped rapidly. "Is it just me or is it getting really cold."

"I do not think it's much further to the car," Ziva replied, ignoring McGee's question though she had to admit the remark had some merit. It was cold and she was trying not to shiver, as was McGee by the looks of things.

"Let's hope not," McGee sighed and fell silent. He picked up his pace. The quicker they walked, the quicker they'd get back to the car and into somewhere where he could turn up the heating. Plus it would be dry.

Unfortunately he must have picked up his pace too much because before McGee knew it, one minute he was upright and the next he was up to his elbows in mud. He cursed and lifted his arm from the muddy puddle. It was dripping with brown sludge.

Ziva, seeing McGee slip, had stopped in her tracks. For a moment she'd wondered if he'd been hurt, but then he was moving around and she had to keep herself from laughing out loud. Smirking, she remarked, "I did not know the swamp creature had a fondness for NCIS jackets."

"Haha, very funny," McGee muttered sarcastically. As well as being completely soaking wet, he was now completely muddy. He saw Ziva's grin and frowned. "Don't laugh."

His comment only encouraged Ziva further who could hardly take a muddy McGee practically pouting like child seriously. She wished she could whip out her phone and snap a picture, but she'd kill her cell in the process. "Having fun?"

McGee glared at her. "What do you think?" He sighed. "Just help me up?"

Ziva crinkled her nose. McGee was rather very muddy and while she was soaked though, at least she was clean. "Uh . . ."

"Ziva," McGee pleaded. "Please."

Taking pity on the poor man, Ziva stepped over and offered her hand to the muddy agent at her feet. Unfortunately as she did so, it was Ziva's turn to slip on some slippery mud and crash to the ground. The graceful Mossad officer now found herself as muddy as the man next to her.

"Do not laugh," she growled at McGee, but it was too late; he was already smirking at Ziva's muddy figure.

"Oh, how the mighty fall," he commented dryly.

"Shut up," Ziva frowned, trying to scramble to her feet. This proved to be a little harder than she'd expected and instead found herself toppling into McGee, pushing him onto his back.

"Ziva!" he exclaimed, slightly shocked.

"Sorry," she muttered, trying to use her arms to lift herself off McGee only to come thudding back down on him.

"Ouch," he cried, wincing. "Ziva, get off me."

"I am trying," she ground out. "It is not exactly an easy task."

"Try harder," McGee grumbled, trying to help Ziva up. All he ended up doing, though, was make the situation worse, their limbs tangled in a muddy mess.

"I am trying," Ziva growled as she kneed McGee in the chest. "You could be a little more helpful."

"You're on my arms if you hadn't noticed."

"Fine."

It took a little while, but finally the pair managed to get enough traction to pull themselves to their feet. Glancing at each other, Ziva and McGee couldn't help but shake their heads at the other in wonder. Soaking wet and covered in mud, they looked more like children than federal agents.

"You really should have brought an umbrella, McGee."

Fin.