Fic: "Take a Picture" McGiva, rating - G
Holy crap. I'm actually posting a fic. And it's McGiva. It's het. I can barely write original boy/girl fic. NCIS has done something strange to me, I do believe. I mean, there's no sex, it's fluffy as all get out, no bad words. It's (hopefully) cute and sweet and not written too terribly. But it's McGiva. And it's a fic. A FINISHED fic. I was beginning to believe I'd never finish another fic again. But I did. YAYAYAYAY!!!
Basically a tag to S6's Murder 2.0, in other words the episode where Timmy maybe got a little caught with something he shouldn't have still had. Little did Ziva know, and little did Timmy know.
Just under 1600 words (and it's short too! For me!). Unbetaed, because I'm a chicken shit. OH, and thanks to a bunch of people on twitter (colorguard, TaylorGibbs, Smackalicious) who kept pushing, I mean, encouraging me, even though I might have been being a little too neurotic over there.
And I actually have a story I feel safe in posting elsewhere, other than my journal!!
NCIS isn't mine, but then you knew that.
Take A Picture
Ziva exited the back elevator, walking towards their area of the dark office. As she approached she saw McGee’s desk light was still on, and he was slumped over in front of his computer. Windows were opening and closing on his monitor, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Smiling to herself, she snuck up behind him, crowding in close and quickly, intending to either threaten once more about removing the pictures from his computer, or thank him for doing what she’d asked. But something caught her eye, and she watched as another picture of her, one taken by Abby for the scientist’s phone a year or so ago, floated across the screen just as McGee minimized everything.
“I’m deleting as we speak, Ziva. No threats are necessary.” She had startled him, but Tim covered it well, even if he didn’t go back to what he’d been doing.
It was the same picture that had been on the wall of Abby’s lab, along with pictures of Tony and Tim and a sticky note counting the days they’d been gone. All had remained there even after she and McGee had been reassigned to Gibbs’ team, waiting for the third of Abby’s Musketeers to make it home.
Ziva had never seen those pictures until she’d returned from Tel Aviv, when Abby had dragged her and McGee down to the lab for a quick session of catch-up. Abby’s shrine had caught her eye, and while the other two discussed the mole hunt they’d been split up for, she’d made a face at Tony’s picture, smiled at hers, and then stopped when she came to McGee’s. There was his sweet face aimed right at her, through the lens of Abby’s camera phone, and she’d smiled again, suddenly very happy to be home in D.C.
Next to her in the dark squadroom, McGee cleared his throat, looking sideways at her as she continued staring at the now blank screen. “Ziva?”
The evening Tony had been relocated back to the Navy Yard, they’d all, minus Gibbs, decided to go out to dinner. She and Tony were tired, and Abby was in her pajamas, but everyone wanted to celebrate the man’s return. Ziva offered to go down to autopsy to check if Ducky and Palmer were still in the building and invite them if they were. On the way to autopsy, though, she took a quick detour.
Ziva had wondered why Abby had never said anything about her mysteriously disappearing shrine. Taking all three had been her intent, but she had only been interested in one of the pictures. Pocketing them safely, she’d continued on to autopsy, where she’d found Jimmy. The five of them ended up in a small restaurant, laughing as Tony shared more absurd stories of life aboard an aircraft carrier.
The two snapshots she’d taken to cover her thievery were carefully placed in a photo album she’d bought when she’d returned to DC, fully intending to fill it with memories of her friends and coworkers; so far, they were the only two in there. But the third one was tucked safely in her current novel, marking her spot. Some nights, she spent nearly as much time grinning at the cute and slightly goofy look on the subject’s face as she did reading her book.
Leaning over McGee, seeing that perhaps he had more images than she’d discovered, Ziva couldn’t help but ask. “How many pictures do you have of me?”
Tim glanced at her nervously before he sighed and looked away. He hit a few more keys on his keyboard then answered. “As of now, zero.”
Ziva nodded, stepping back. “Thank you.” She squeezed his shoulder as she walked away, not looking in his direction as she collected both her belongings and her thoughts. While pulling on her coat, her eyes instinctively sought him out, and she caught him removing a memory card from his adapter.
She waited for him at her desk, and they walked together to the elevator. Nothing was said until they were nearly to her car. “McGee, you do not need to escort me,” Ziva pointed out yet again.
Tim shrugged. “I know. Force of habit,” he offered with another of those shy smiles she loved so much.
They reached her Mini, and they stood facing each other, but not looking. She really did love that shy grin. She also loved the face he made whenever Tony was being Tony. The way his tongue rested on his bottom lip as he dug into whatever well full of information he’d found on a computer. Crooking her head, she felt the puzzle pieces rolling into place, or falling, whichever.
“How many pictures, McGee?”
He grimaced, still looking over head and not at her. “I’m sorry, Ziva. I just- I forgot to delete them. They aren’t there anymore. I promise.” His eyes dropped to hers for a second, and just as quickly he dragged them away.
So he didn’t see her grin. “You still have not answered my question.”
Sighing, he shrugged again. “I don’t really want to answer it.”
“Why?”
He turned then, leaning against the back of her car. “Does it matter?”
Ziva thought about that. “No, because I believe you only deleted them from your computer. They are now on the memory card in your pocket.”
McGee looked up at the sky, and she watched as his skin turned pink, starting at his neck and moving upwards. Tim had always intrigued her, this kind gentleman who carried a gun and still blushed regularly. The Timothy McGee she had met three years ago wasn’t really that different from the man using her Mini Cooper to hold himself up. He’d been the first one in Washington to truly befriend her, help her learn the outs and ins of Washington’s traffic, tell her they were happy she was here. He’d also been the only one that had kept in touch with her over the summer, something she did not hold against the others, but that made his messages to her all the more precious. And here he was, flustered as she interrogated him.
Her backpack made a soft thump when it hit the black-top, and McGee looked down. He watched warily as she stepped closer, invading his space again, standing between his parted legs. One hand reached out and set itself on his cheek, and Ziva smirked. “Stand up straight, Timothy.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicious.
“Because you are too tall for me to kiss when you are leaning away from me.”
His eyes went wide, his skin turning an even brighter shade of pink beneath her fingers. But he did as she asked, straightening carefully, his own pack hitting the ground. “But-“
She interrupted him, sliding her hand around his neck and pulling until their lips met. He kissed back hesitantly, bringing one of his hands up and mirroring her, resting it against her face. She shivered when his thumb lightly tapped her cheek.
They parted after a few seconds, and she brought her hand back to his face, running a finger over his bottom lip. “Perhaps you can keep them. The pictures. It is only fair.”
McGee peered at her then, one eyebrow raised cautiously. “What’s only fair?”
This time it was Ziva’s turn to be embarrassed, and she fell forward, burying her face in his chest in hopes of hiding her nervous giggle. “I will tell you another time,” she replied, her words muffled by his coat. His hand was now buried in her hair, and she turned into it, noticing how his palm felt warm and comfortable on her face.
“But right now, I am hungry.” She drew back far enough to see his face, and McGee was just staring at her. “Would you like to have dinner with me, McGee, Tim?”
“It would be a pleasure,” he replied with a small grin. “But only if you tell me exactly what’s only fair.”
Ziva nodded. “Of course.” He picked up her pack after they separated, handing it over and standing sentinel as she stepped into her car. “The Greek deli, the one that Tony is not allowed to go in anymore.”
They shared a chuckle, and Tim nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”
As she started the Mini, Ziva watched McGee make his way to his Porsche then fold himself into it. Putting her car into gear, she quickly reached for the sun visor, pulling it down. A couple of years ago, she’d hidden another picture there, one from the summer Gibbs had left them. It was a close-up candid she’d taken of him as he’d killed terrorists on Tony’s old computer, his tongue between his teeth and his eyes lit up playfully. She didn’t know why she’d taken it, or why she’d hidden it in her car.
Placing the picture back in its proper place, she noticed Tim waiting for her to pull out. As she led McGee out of the Yard, Ziva began considering other ways to make Tim blush. Perhaps some special, more artistic pictures taken just for him? Some that he’d find more stimulating than the ones Tony had taken in L.A.
Ziva shook her head, making a mental note to ask Abby if she had any photographer friends who specialized in those kinds of special pictures. Then she realized that thought was making her grow warm, and wondered how Timothy McGee, of all people, could make her blush.
This entry was originally posted at http://harempriestess.dreamwidth.org/19403.html. Comment on either site.
Basically a tag to S6's Murder 2.0, in other words the episode where Timmy maybe got a little caught with something he shouldn't have still had. Little did Ziva know, and little did Timmy know.
Just under 1600 words (and it's short too! For me!). Unbetaed, because I'm a chicken shit. OH, and thanks to a bunch of people on twitter (colorguard, TaylorGibbs, Smackalicious) who kept pushing, I mean, encouraging me, even though I might have been being a little too neurotic over there.
And I actually have a story I feel safe in posting elsewhere, other than my journal!!
NCIS isn't mine, but then you knew that.
Take A Picture
Ziva exited the back elevator, walking towards their area of the dark office. As she approached she saw McGee’s desk light was still on, and he was slumped over in front of his computer. Windows were opening and closing on his monitor, his fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Smiling to herself, she snuck up behind him, crowding in close and quickly, intending to either threaten once more about removing the pictures from his computer, or thank him for doing what she’d asked. But something caught her eye, and she watched as another picture of her, one taken by Abby for the scientist’s phone a year or so ago, floated across the screen just as McGee minimized everything.
“I’m deleting as we speak, Ziva. No threats are necessary.” She had startled him, but Tim covered it well, even if he didn’t go back to what he’d been doing.
It was the same picture that had been on the wall of Abby’s lab, along with pictures of Tony and Tim and a sticky note counting the days they’d been gone. All had remained there even after she and McGee had been reassigned to Gibbs’ team, waiting for the third of Abby’s Musketeers to make it home.
Ziva had never seen those pictures until she’d returned from Tel Aviv, when Abby had dragged her and McGee down to the lab for a quick session of catch-up. Abby’s shrine had caught her eye, and while the other two discussed the mole hunt they’d been split up for, she’d made a face at Tony’s picture, smiled at hers, and then stopped when she came to McGee’s. There was his sweet face aimed right at her, through the lens of Abby’s camera phone, and she’d smiled again, suddenly very happy to be home in D.C.
Next to her in the dark squadroom, McGee cleared his throat, looking sideways at her as she continued staring at the now blank screen. “Ziva?”
The evening Tony had been relocated back to the Navy Yard, they’d all, minus Gibbs, decided to go out to dinner. She and Tony were tired, and Abby was in her pajamas, but everyone wanted to celebrate the man’s return. Ziva offered to go down to autopsy to check if Ducky and Palmer were still in the building and invite them if they were. On the way to autopsy, though, she took a quick detour.
Ziva had wondered why Abby had never said anything about her mysteriously disappearing shrine. Taking all three had been her intent, but she had only been interested in one of the pictures. Pocketing them safely, she’d continued on to autopsy, where she’d found Jimmy. The five of them ended up in a small restaurant, laughing as Tony shared more absurd stories of life aboard an aircraft carrier.
The two snapshots she’d taken to cover her thievery were carefully placed in a photo album she’d bought when she’d returned to DC, fully intending to fill it with memories of her friends and coworkers; so far, they were the only two in there. But the third one was tucked safely in her current novel, marking her spot. Some nights, she spent nearly as much time grinning at the cute and slightly goofy look on the subject’s face as she did reading her book.
Leaning over McGee, seeing that perhaps he had more images than she’d discovered, Ziva couldn’t help but ask. “How many pictures do you have of me?”
Tim glanced at her nervously before he sighed and looked away. He hit a few more keys on his keyboard then answered. “As of now, zero.”
Ziva nodded, stepping back. “Thank you.” She squeezed his shoulder as she walked away, not looking in his direction as she collected both her belongings and her thoughts. While pulling on her coat, her eyes instinctively sought him out, and she caught him removing a memory card from his adapter.
She waited for him at her desk, and they walked together to the elevator. Nothing was said until they were nearly to her car. “McGee, you do not need to escort me,” Ziva pointed out yet again.
Tim shrugged. “I know. Force of habit,” he offered with another of those shy smiles she loved so much.
They reached her Mini, and they stood facing each other, but not looking. She really did love that shy grin. She also loved the face he made whenever Tony was being Tony. The way his tongue rested on his bottom lip as he dug into whatever well full of information he’d found on a computer. Crooking her head, she felt the puzzle pieces rolling into place, or falling, whichever.
“How many pictures, McGee?”
He grimaced, still looking over head and not at her. “I’m sorry, Ziva. I just- I forgot to delete them. They aren’t there anymore. I promise.” His eyes dropped to hers for a second, and just as quickly he dragged them away.
So he didn’t see her grin. “You still have not answered my question.”
Sighing, he shrugged again. “I don’t really want to answer it.”
“Why?”
He turned then, leaning against the back of her car. “Does it matter?”
Ziva thought about that. “No, because I believe you only deleted them from your computer. They are now on the memory card in your pocket.”
McGee looked up at the sky, and she watched as his skin turned pink, starting at his neck and moving upwards. Tim had always intrigued her, this kind gentleman who carried a gun and still blushed regularly. The Timothy McGee she had met three years ago wasn’t really that different from the man using her Mini Cooper to hold himself up. He’d been the first one in Washington to truly befriend her, help her learn the outs and ins of Washington’s traffic, tell her they were happy she was here. He’d also been the only one that had kept in touch with her over the summer, something she did not hold against the others, but that made his messages to her all the more precious. And here he was, flustered as she interrogated him.
Her backpack made a soft thump when it hit the black-top, and McGee looked down. He watched warily as she stepped closer, invading his space again, standing between his parted legs. One hand reached out and set itself on his cheek, and Ziva smirked. “Stand up straight, Timothy.”
“Why?” he asked, suspicious.
“Because you are too tall for me to kiss when you are leaning away from me.”
His eyes went wide, his skin turning an even brighter shade of pink beneath her fingers. But he did as she asked, straightening carefully, his own pack hitting the ground. “But-“
She interrupted him, sliding her hand around his neck and pulling until their lips met. He kissed back hesitantly, bringing one of his hands up and mirroring her, resting it against her face. She shivered when his thumb lightly tapped her cheek.
They parted after a few seconds, and she brought her hand back to his face, running a finger over his bottom lip. “Perhaps you can keep them. The pictures. It is only fair.”
McGee peered at her then, one eyebrow raised cautiously. “What’s only fair?”
This time it was Ziva’s turn to be embarrassed, and she fell forward, burying her face in his chest in hopes of hiding her nervous giggle. “I will tell you another time,” she replied, her words muffled by his coat. His hand was now buried in her hair, and she turned into it, noticing how his palm felt warm and comfortable on her face.
“But right now, I am hungry.” She drew back far enough to see his face, and McGee was just staring at her. “Would you like to have dinner with me, McGee, Tim?”
“It would be a pleasure,” he replied with a small grin. “But only if you tell me exactly what’s only fair.”
Ziva nodded. “Of course.” He picked up her pack after they separated, handing it over and standing sentinel as she stepped into her car. “The Greek deli, the one that Tony is not allowed to go in anymore.”
They shared a chuckle, and Tim nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”
As she started the Mini, Ziva watched McGee make his way to his Porsche then fold himself into it. Putting her car into gear, she quickly reached for the sun visor, pulling it down. A couple of years ago, she’d hidden another picture there, one from the summer Gibbs had left them. It was a close-up candid she’d taken of him as he’d killed terrorists on Tony’s old computer, his tongue between his teeth and his eyes lit up playfully. She didn’t know why she’d taken it, or why she’d hidden it in her car.
Placing the picture back in its proper place, she noticed Tim waiting for her to pull out. As she led McGee out of the Yard, Ziva began considering other ways to make Tim blush. Perhaps some special, more artistic pictures taken just for him? Some that he’d find more stimulating than the ones Tony had taken in L.A.
Ziva shook her head, making a mental note to ask Abby if she had any photographer friends who specialized in those kinds of special pictures. Then she realized that thought was making her grow warm, and wondered how Timothy McGee, of all people, could make her blush.
This entry was originally posted at http://harempriestess.dreamwidth.org/19403.html. Comment on either site.