𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

EIGHTEEN | personal matters

"What are you two arguing about?"

I tilt the black sunglasses down the bridge of my nose, glancing between Tony and McGee as I enter the bullpen.

"We were not arguing."

"Yes, we were."

"Do you understand that's what we were arguing about?" McGee inquires. "The fact that you will argue about the least little thing. Sometimes, you'll argue about nothing. You just want to argue." He enunciates the last bit.

"That's not arguing, McContrary. It's called banter." Tony's voice turns to one with a British accent.

My hands press into McGee's shoulders out of sympathy. "Unfortunately, you never get used to it. Everyone has their sick, twisted games."

"And good morning to you, too, Mrs. Giudice." The senior field agent greets with a soft kiss.

Soon, Gibbs arrives to rain on the morning festivities with the arrival of a new case: the gruesome murder of Private First Class Nick Francis Chandler.

"So, this man from Tel Aviv. . .does he have a name?"

Ziva immediately looks up from the form she was filling out, scouring the area in search of a certain agent.

"Relax. I wouldn't dare to let him be near girl talk." I rest against the edge of her desk.

She lets out a strained breath. "Michael. His name is Michael."

"Anything else you want to tell —"

"Grab your toothbrush."

Gibbs stalks into the room with an eager Tony following behind.

"Road trip?"

"Los Angeles."

"California." Ziva claps her hands together. "What time do we leave?"

"Not we."

And Gibbs points two fingers towards McGee and Tony. I fail to contain — or at least, minimize — the look of shock gracing my face.

The boss hands over a case file. "Joint operation with O.S.P.. Chandler case. Need you and Ziva to follow up here."

As soon as Gibbs leaves, the boys take less than two minutes to grab their bags and head out the door.

"Hey." I catch up to the two.

"I'll take the next one." Sensing a private talk, McGee excuses himself off the elevator.

Tony presses the button to close the door and cocks a brow. "Are you gonna lecture me about arguing with McGee because —"

"Just shut up. . ." I curl my arms around the thin of his waist, pulling him as close as possible.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Although mildly confused, he reciprocates the gesture. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"The last time we went to L.A., one of us didn't. . ." The words clog the back of my throat. "I need you to promise me that you'll come home."

"I'm always gonna come back to you. You can't get rid of that easily, Ev." His hand caresses locks of my hair.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Aftering bidding goodbyes to the boys, I return to the main room to see Ziva speaking into the telephone in Hebrew.

"Cover for me."

"Huh? How long are you gonna be?"

"Not long."