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I can't believe you don't have any food in here," Tony complained, voice impressively loud considering he was half bent over with his head stuck inside the glovebox of TIm's car and, as Tim watched, dumping the contents onto the floor in the hopes that a bag of chips would magically appear.

"Tony," McGee felt frustration draw out the vowels and he barely restrained himself from thumping his head against the driver's seat headrest or whapping the back of Tony's head in a very Gibbs-like manner. "For the eight time, no, I do not have any food in here. Cars are for driving, for getting from point A to point B; or, in our case, in holding us until Hank Demmon decides that he should drive to point A, or maybe that's point C…" McGee sighed. This metaphor had gotten out of control. "Either way, eating in the car means that I'd have to spent time or money to get rid of all the damn crumbs, and let's not even talk about how Gibbs has made sure I have a ridiculously small amount of either, so forget it."

"Someone put your panties in a twist, McCranky."

Tim shot Tony a nasty look, but it was pointless--Tony still had his damn head stuck in the glove box.

"DiNozzo, I haven't slept more than four hours in the past two weeks. We're not getting relieved by Gibbs and Ziva until 1:30 and I swear to God, if any of my car paperwork gets even a little bit creased, it's your credit score that will suffer." McGee waved a hand at the pile of papers now littering the passenger's side floor.

Tony finally emerged (how had he gotten himself so far into the glovebox? The car wasn't that big) and amazingly, stopped, slanted a look over and said "sorry, McGee" in a shockingly sincere voice. He even began to pick up the papers.

McGee was so impressed that he immediately felt guilty.

"I think there's a pack of gum in the cup holder," he offered. Tony shuddered theatrically.

"It's watermelon flavored. I'm hoping it belongs to Ziva, one of her new 'trying to be an American' habits... McGee!"

Tim could feel the heat of a blush rising up his cheeks. Tony shook his head.

"If this is what you do for excitement, we need to get you some better hobbies, Probie."

McGee opened his mouth to argue, but Tony was now staring off into space, head tilted to the side, obviously thinking something over. A dangerous sign.

Sure enough, he turned to look at McGee, his eyes a little too wide and smile cocky in a way that made Tim's pulse pick up.

"You know, Tim," Tony started slowly, and oh, at that McGee's mouth went dry. "There's another thing that cars are for besides driving." Tony's grin was hot and pleased and absolutely filthy.

When Ziva and Gibbs arrived to take over for their surveillance shift, no one mentioned that Tim was missing his tie, Tony's collar had popped a button and the pair of them smelled faintly of watermelon flavored gum.