All's Fair in Love and War
Disclaimer: All names and trademarks recognised as "NCIS" do not belong to me; I've just borrowed the characters for my own purposes.
Genres: Fluff, Humour, Friendship
Warnings: Does pseudo!slash count as a warning?
Summary: Tony and McGee spend an afternoon at a local fair.
A/N Over on the NFA (NCIS Fanfiction Addiction forums) we had an auction to raise money for Haiti, inspired by the LiveJournal one. This is for smackalicious who wanted something light-hearted with the prompt: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee/day off.
"Why did I let you talk me into coming?" McGee sighed as he trailed behind a grinning Tony. "I can think of a hundred and one more worthwhile activities I could be doing."
Tony stopped mid-step, paused and turned around slowly with a wide grin on his face. He was clutching an oversized cloud of pink candyfloss and glancing around the fairground like an overgrown child. "Fun, McKilljoy. Fun," he responded lightly.
"Fun, Tony?" McGee gestured with his outstretched arms. "We are surrounded by lovesick teenagers and harried mothers. I should be working on my novel."
"Yet here you are," Tony pointed out with a faint smirk. "Face it, Probie, you want to be here as much as I do. You could have easily refused to come."
Tony did have a point, not that he'd admit it. He supposed that the idea of attending the fair had its merits at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. They finally had a full weekend off for the first time in who knows how long and while he had planned to work on his novel, he somehow found himself wasting time at a local fair.
"I suppose," McGee replied reluctantly.
"Exactly!" Tony exclaimed, jabbing a finger in his direction. "So stop being such a McKilljoy and enjoy yourself. What more could you want? Candyfloss. Rides. Sideshow games."
"That are designed for children, Tony," McGee pointed out, exasperated. "Not grown adults."
"McKilljoy," Tony repeated for the third time. He turned his back on McGee, yet McGee could still see his face as it lit up. He pointed to somewhere in the distance. "Now, Probie, do you really think that's child's game?"
McGee followed Tony's finger and saw that he was pointing to a sideshow game; a shooting game by the looks of it. Excited, Tony raced off in the direction of the game, leaving McGee to mentally wish he was anywhere but here. With another long sigh, McGee started after Tony.
When he reached the stall, Tony had managed to muscle his way to the front of the small group of people surrounding the game. He was chatting animatedly to the man running the game and flapping around a couple of dollar bills. Tony must have sensed McGee behind him because he turned with a grin on his face.
"Watch and learn, my good Probie," he said cockily as he eyed the different guns resting against the ledge of the game. Directly in front of them was a bunch of moving ducks. McGee knew enough about fair games to know the harder the duck was to hit, the more points you scored.
"You do know we could be at home doing something useful," McGee tried again, giving Tony a pointed look. He added in a hushed whisper through gritted teeth, "And not cheating at a fair game."
"It's not cheating," Tony hissed back.
"It is if part of your job means being able to hit a moving target," McGee muttered, leaning over Tony's shoulder to eye the game distastefully.
"It's not cheating," Tony repeated quickly, giving McGee a quick and well practiced glare. "Just creative helping," he finished with a grin.
McGee rolled his eyes and took a step back, shrugging his shoulders. The man operating the game gave them an amused look and remarked, "Maybe if you're done with the domestic you could try a little shooting."
"We aren't, uh . . ." McGee started to blush, stammering a little as he spoke. Tony, on the other hand, seemed to take it in his stride and flashed a grin at the operator, slinging an arm around McGee's shoulder and pulling him close.
"Just trying to win a toy for honey-buns here," Tony replied with a hundred-watt grin, pulling McGee even closer as he tried to inch away, embarrassed beyond belief.
"Tony," McGee hissed warningly in his ear. "What do you think you are doing?"
Tony smiled apologetically at the game operator. "Don't mind Timmy here," Tony told him in an almost conspirator whisper, cupping his hand against the side of his mouth. "He's a little shy. Aren't you, Timmy?"
McGee decided that Tony's remark did not dignify an answer and instead gave him a nasty look. The man in the booth gave Tony a knowing wink and said, "Maybe big ol' toy would get you back into the good books with your boyfriend."
"Perhaps," Tony charmed and selected one of the guns. He flashed McGee a grin. "Watch a master at work, Timmy." He cocked his head to the side and added as an afterthought, "Dunno if the bed'll take three of us, though."
Tony immediately turned back to the game at hand and missed McGee's look of utter loathing. Tony pulled his arm from McGee's shoulder and aimed the gun. He fired the first shot, missed and McGee didn't even bother to hide his satisfied smirk.
But, unfortunately, he didn't miss the next one. Or the next one. Or the one after that. In no time at all Tony had hit the jackpot, hitting all the right ducks to earn himself one of the atrocious and brightly coloured Styrofoam toys hanging from the rafters of the booth. Tony let out a whoop of delight and turned to grin at McGee.
"And that's how it's done," he gloated. He put his arm back around McGee's shoulder. "Now, sweetcheeks, which will it take to get me back into the good books, if you know what I mean." Tony nudged his shoulder and gave him a wink while McGee resisted the urge to reach out and strangle him.
Through gritted teeth McGee replied, "Why don't you pick, dear."
"If you're sure." Tony considered the choices in front of him for a moment before selecting a lime green stuffed dog. He thrust it into McGee's arms before he could protest and proclaimed, "We should call it Jethro." He made an aww'ing face at McGee. "Look at that, Timmy, our first pet together."
"I hate you," McGee muttered as he clutched the bright green monstrosity.
"Aww, he doesn't mean that," Tony told the man as the operator congratulated Tony on his fine shooting skills. "Do you, babycakes?" Tony patted his cheeks before turning to thank the man for his time.
Thirty seconds later, Tony and McGee were strolling away from the booth, well aware that the eyes of the operator were following them. With a smirk, Tony flung his arms around McGee again and commented,
"So, sweetcheeks, what would you like to do next? I hear the tunnel of lurve is something special . . ."