[NCIS] Premiere :: PG :: Gen :: 1/1
Oct. 8th, 2008 04:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chaletianTitle: Premiere
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Characters: Tony, Ziva
Spoilers: Not much; vaguely for season 4, maybe
Summary: Sequel to Till You See It On A Silver Screen: Tony and Ziva attend the premiere of Deep Six.
The gentle pomposity and gilded grandeur of the presidential reception was shattered as half a dozen federal agents came rushing into the huge reception room, guns drawn, caps pulled down over their foreheads. The leader, a tall man with silvery hair and a tense expression, rattled out a series of low-voiced instructions to his team, then ran up to the podium, where the President was standing, mouth open in astonishment even as Secret Service agents clustered around him. He nodded respectfully, then turned to the microphone, unfazed by the stalled autoprompt below him, or the shocked faces turned upwards.
“I’m just saying,” said Tony DiNozzo, in a piercing whisper, “that Probie could have, y’know, let us come up the red carpet or something.”
“Just because you wanted to… to stroke Harrison Ford, Tony, does not mean that McGee was going to let you.”
“I wasn’t going to stroke him, Zee-vah. I just wanted to meet the guy. Is that so wrong?” Tony’s expression in the darkened auditorium was pleading and oddly innocent. Ziva was not impressed.
“McGee was afraid you would receive a restraining order. Anyway, we are nothing to do with this film.”
“Nothing to do… Ziva, have you even read Timmy’s book? It’s nothing but us!”
“Nobody else knows that, Tony. So be quiet!”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the building,” the silver-haired man stated brusquely, gesturing towards the grand double doors which led to the main corridors of the White House. His agents were already stationed there, with the youngest one, hair pushed carelessly back, already tapping quickly into his laptop. As the guests left the room, corralled by Secret Service, the young man looked up from his laptop.
“Like McGee’s hair ever looked that good,” Tony moaned, grabbing popcorn out of the box on Ziva’s lap.
“His hair is not so bad,” replied Ziva, withdrawing the popcorn to a safe distance. Tony pouted.
“It should be somewhere in this room. I’ve triangulated the signal – it looks like it’s coming from that side.” The young man waved a hand, and at the senior agent’s nod, the other two people began searching for the bomb that so threatened American democracy. Even as they searched, the young agent’s fingers didn’t stop, carefully making his search algorithm ever more sophisticated, till he let out a cry of exultation. “Under the panel – yeah – that one! Careful!”
The female agent, long dark hair falling round her beautiful face, carefully prised off the oak panel to reveal a ticking bomb behind it.
“Merde!” she whispered, crossing herself. “I’m not familiar with this type of mechanism,” she confessed. She turned to her partner. “You?”
“I am familiar with many types of incendiary device. This plot is unconvincing.”
Tony took advantage of Ziva’s pique to steal the popcorn, then winced as Seann William Scott’s cocky face filled the screen
Agent Tommy grinned. “Hey, I’m used to the babes going off like a rocket, but this? Not so much!” His response earned him a slap on the head from his superior.
“Not the time!”
“No, Boss. Hey, Probie! Get over here!”
“See, that would never happen!” This time Ziva said nothing.
The young man did as he was bid, carefully laying down the laptop. “It looks like a typical fuse used by a radical sect,” he said, gently fingering the brightly coloured wires. “I think if I…” he prised a small plastic cap off part of the bomb, twiddled a couple of wires together and neatly disconnected a third. The clock stopped. Democracy was saved.
“Good work, McGregor,” said the leader. “You’re a credit to us all!”
“Well, that was a pile of crock!” complained Tony DiNozzo, as they trailed out of the cinema. “I should sue McGoo. McSue McGee. Do you think I can do that?” Before Ziva could reply, the two of them were caught in an avalanche of teenage girls.
“Oh my God, that Agent Tommy was, like, so totally hot!”
“I love him! I would, like, completely have his babies.”
“OK, you, me, LJ comm tonight!”
They moved on. Tony stood still, a contemplative look on his face.
“This film is not so bad, now?” asked Ziva. Tony grinned and slung an enthusiastic arm around her shoulders.
“This film rocks!”
Author:
chaletianFandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Characters: Tony, Ziva
Spoilers: Not much; vaguely for season 4, maybe
Summary: Sequel to Till You See It On A Silver Screen: Tony and Ziva attend the premiere of Deep Six.
The gentle pomposity and gilded grandeur of the presidential reception was shattered as half a dozen federal agents came rushing into the huge reception room, guns drawn, caps pulled down over their foreheads. The leader, a tall man with silvery hair and a tense expression, rattled out a series of low-voiced instructions to his team, then ran up to the podium, where the President was standing, mouth open in astonishment even as Secret Service agents clustered around him. He nodded respectfully, then turned to the microphone, unfazed by the stalled autoprompt below him, or the shocked faces turned upwards.
“I’m just saying,” said Tony DiNozzo, in a piercing whisper, “that Probie could have, y’know, let us come up the red carpet or something.”
“Just because you wanted to… to stroke Harrison Ford, Tony, does not mean that McGee was going to let you.”
“I wasn’t going to stroke him, Zee-vah. I just wanted to meet the guy. Is that so wrong?” Tony’s expression in the darkened auditorium was pleading and oddly innocent. Ziva was not impressed.
“McGee was afraid you would receive a restraining order. Anyway, we are nothing to do with this film.”
“Nothing to do… Ziva, have you even read Timmy’s book? It’s nothing but us!”
“Nobody else knows that, Tony. So be quiet!”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the building,” the silver-haired man stated brusquely, gesturing towards the grand double doors which led to the main corridors of the White House. His agents were already stationed there, with the youngest one, hair pushed carelessly back, already tapping quickly into his laptop. As the guests left the room, corralled by Secret Service, the young man looked up from his laptop.
“Like McGee’s hair ever looked that good,” Tony moaned, grabbing popcorn out of the box on Ziva’s lap.
“His hair is not so bad,” replied Ziva, withdrawing the popcorn to a safe distance. Tony pouted.
“It should be somewhere in this room. I’ve triangulated the signal – it looks like it’s coming from that side.” The young man waved a hand, and at the senior agent’s nod, the other two people began searching for the bomb that so threatened American democracy. Even as they searched, the young agent’s fingers didn’t stop, carefully making his search algorithm ever more sophisticated, till he let out a cry of exultation. “Under the panel – yeah – that one! Careful!”
The female agent, long dark hair falling round her beautiful face, carefully prised off the oak panel to reveal a ticking bomb behind it.
“Merde!” she whispered, crossing herself. “I’m not familiar with this type of mechanism,” she confessed. She turned to her partner. “You?”
“I am familiar with many types of incendiary device. This plot is unconvincing.”
Tony took advantage of Ziva’s pique to steal the popcorn, then winced as Seann William Scott’s cocky face filled the screen
Agent Tommy grinned. “Hey, I’m used to the babes going off like a rocket, but this? Not so much!” His response earned him a slap on the head from his superior.
“Not the time!”
“No, Boss. Hey, Probie! Get over here!”
“See, that would never happen!” This time Ziva said nothing.
The young man did as he was bid, carefully laying down the laptop. “It looks like a typical fuse used by a radical sect,” he said, gently fingering the brightly coloured wires. “I think if I…” he prised a small plastic cap off part of the bomb, twiddled a couple of wires together and neatly disconnected a third. The clock stopped. Democracy was saved.
“Good work, McGregor,” said the leader. “You’re a credit to us all!”
“Well, that was a pile of crock!” complained Tony DiNozzo, as they trailed out of the cinema. “I should sue McGoo. McSue McGee. Do you think I can do that?” Before Ziva could reply, the two of them were caught in an avalanche of teenage girls.
“Oh my God, that Agent Tommy was, like, so totally hot!”
“I love him! I would, like, completely have his babies.”
“OK, you, me, LJ comm tonight!”
They moved on. Tony stood still, a contemplative look on his face.
“This film is not so bad, now?” asked Ziva. Tony grinned and slung an enthusiastic arm around her shoulders.
“This film rocks!”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-08 03:10 pm (UTC)That would SO be Tony and Ziva. Lovely story telling!
no subject
Date: 2008-10-08 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-13 06:50 am (UTC)*laughs madly*
Brilliant.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-24 03:25 pm (UTC)"I am familiar with many types of incendiary device. This plot is unconvincing."
LOLOLOL!
"This film rocks!"
*giggles* <3 Tony.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-29 04:27 pm (UTC)