Title: The sort of do it yourself dreadful affair
Character(s): Tony, McGee, Jimmy
Pairing(s): n/a
Genre(s): humor
Episode(s): none
Crossover(s): none
Word Count: 933
Prompt: Round 3.06 of the NCIS_LFWS challenge on Livejournal, prompt was 'reverse fandom' i.e. to pick an episode title from a different show and use it as the title/theme for the fic. I chose 'The Man from UNCLE'
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I'm only borrowing them and will return them in the same condition I found them.
“I'm not sure this is a good idea, Tony,” said McGee as he looked warily around the room. “I mean, this is a big job. Shouldn't we get professionals in?” He glanced over at Jimmy. “Don't get me wrong, I don't mind giving up my first free Saturday in months to help you get this place fixed up. But wouldn't it be a lot quicker and easier to just hire somebody to do it?”
Jimmy flushed slightly as he stirred the contents of a paint can, but it was Tony who replied to McGee. “Because professionals charge big bucks and we don't.” He nodded over towards Jimmy, “And being an Autopsy Gremlin doesn't pay enough for both med school *and* interior decorators. Not if he wants to eat as well.”
Now McGee felt bad, “I'm sorry Jimmy, I didn't mean...”
“It's okay,” said Jimmy, forcing a smile on his face. “Tony's right. If it wasn't for you guys volunteering to help me out, I guess I'd still be looking at bare walls. But a lick of paint, a few rolls of wallpaper, and it'll be just like home.”
If this was what Palmer considered home, McGee could only imagine what he was used to. Frankly, as far as he was concerned, the best way to improve the apartment would be to knock it down and start over. But then, like Tony had said, Palmer wasn't exactly rolling in money, and from what McGee had heard, this place was probably the best he could do.
“So where do you want to start?” he asked.
“Well if we paint the living room first,” said Jimmy, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “And then while the first coat is drying we could wallpaper the bedroom. I was going to paint it as well, but the walls are in such a bad way that paper would work better and, and why are you guys looking at me?”
“You've got paint on your nose,” said McGee.
“What? Oh no,” said Jimmy as he tried to wipe it with his hand but only succeeded in making things worse.
“You shouldn't have said anything until I'd snapped a picture,” said Tony.
Several hours later there had been ample opportunity for Tony to take pictures of paint stained co-workers. McGee had dropped his brush into one of the paint tins and was now sporting an ‘ivory cream’ colored left hand. Tony had wanted him to dip his other hand in so he'd have a matching set, but McGee had sensibly declined. Tony was sure though that it was only a matter of time before McGee dropped his brush again, or maybe his phone would 'accidentally' get knocked into the tin.
The original smudge on Jimmy’s nose had been joined by a wide pink streak down the left side of his face - courtesy of Tony making an expansive gesture, and forgetting that he had a loaded brush in his hand - and a squiggly skull and crossbones on his upper right arm - also courtesy of Tony, because he’d wanted to see what Jimmy would look like with a tattoo.
“I don’t know, Palmer,” said McGee, eyeing up the design. “I don’t think it’s really you. Maybe something like a basketful of puppies or kittens is more your line.”
“Don’t listen to him, Jimmy,” said Tony, adding a final set of crooked teeth to the skull.
Well, it was probably supposed to be teeth, although in all honesty it did look more like a wobbly jagged line, thought Jimmy as he looked at it. Maybe it would look better when it dried.
“You are sure this will wash off,” said Jimmy. “I mean, I’m not sure Doctor Mallard would appreciate it if I came in to work with this still on my arm.”
“Ducky's cool about body are and stuff like this,” said Tony. “Show up with a tattoo and he'd probably just give you a lecture on the importance of choosing a tattoo shop that practices good standards of hygiene. And then he'd go on about the cultural significance of tattoos throughout history, finishing up with a story about he once considered getting one to impress a young lady of his acquaintance.” Tony blew on Jimmy's skin to dry the paint. “And besides, this is a work of art, what's not to appreciate!”
Beside him, McGee snorted in disbelief. “Tony, I’ve seen better work on a kindergarten wall!”
“Oh really, McArt-critic, I’d like to see you do any better.”
“I could draw a better picture than you with my eyes shut.”
“Well what’s stopping you? Plenty of space on Jimmy's other arm.”
“Okay!” McGee loaded his brush.
“Um guys,” said Jimmy as he watched the brush approach his skin. “Not that I don’t appreciate your help and all that…hey, careful, that tickles, but really, heehee, we should, oh God, stop!”
“Stop wiggling so much, Palmer,” said McGee. “I can’t get the lines straight.”
“Stop making excuses, McPicasso,” said Tony. “Just as well they don’t get you to illustrate your books as well as write them. Just pick a fresh spot and start over.”
“What?” yelped Jimmy, trying to pull away, but the other two each had a firm hold of his arms and he couldn't move. “Guys, come on! We still have to finish the second coat in this room and the bedroom as well and...”
“Chill Palmer, no need to look so worried,” said Tony. “We've enough paint to give you *and* the walls a second coat.”
The End