NCIS, desk, stapler, datestamp::as requested by
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pim2005::
“That’s not how it happened, Tony,” said McGee patiently. He picked up the stapler, and moved it three inches to the left. “Fitzgerald was here.”
“Are you blind, Elf Lord?” demanded Tony, outraged, moving the stapler back to its original position on the desk. “Fitzgerald was
here.” He plucked McGee’s cellphone from his jacket pocket, ignoring the younger agent’s indignant response, and placed it carefully in between the NCIS coffee mug and McGee’s keyboard. “
Houghton was here.”
“You are both wrong,” said Ziva dispassionately, leaning over McGee’s computer monitor to assess the display more closely. “Fitzgerald was next to the keyboard.” She moved the stapler accordingly, pushing the cellphone out of the way.
Tony scoffed. “Puh-leeze! Like you could see anything the way you were all over Richardson!”
“I was not
draped over anyone!” replied Ziva heatedly.
McGee coughed apologetically. “You… kind of were, Ziva,” he said. Ziva glared at him, and he looked down, suddenly fascinated by the weave in his jacket cuff.
Tony merely crowed. “See, Zee-vah, even the McGoogle kid here noticed. You and Richardson were practically pornographic!”
Ziva smiled suddenly, and leaned towards Tony. “Well, you would know, yes?”
Tony grinned, tilting his head to one side and raising an eyebrow suggestively. “I’m just saying that…” He broke off and straightened his tie. Ziva, recognising the signs that Gibbs had just appeared somewhere, turned until she was leaning against the desk, cool and professional. Gibbs paid no attention, but went straight to his desk, and retrieved badge and gun from the top drawer.
“Dead marine down at the docks,” he said briefly. He stopped by the desk, looked down at the disarray of stapler, mug, cellphone, three pencils, an eraser, a string of paperclips, and half a stale doughnut which, for some reason, had been sitting in Tony’s bottom drawer.
“You forgot Meadows,” he said, grabbed McGee’s carefully guarded datestamp (it was the stationery item most frequently stolen by Tony who, to McGee’s dismay rarely kept the correct date on it), and banging it down in the middle of the desk. He walked away. The three of them stared down at the datestamp, then were galvanized into action as Gibbs shout of “Now!” echoed back to them.
McGee took an extra moment to mourn over his desk. Kept immaculate and tidy, it now resembled a Staples war zone, and he rather suspected the datastamp ink wouldn’t come off. He sighed. No-one realised how hard it was working at NCIS.
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