Prompt two from way back in March or April. At least I think this was a prompt? The original idea was angsty, but I barely managed to write this drivel, so the angst idea would’ve been even worse. Had fun writing the draft, kinda gave up on editing... Also, I stole a bunch of dialogue from my other OTP.
As always, avoiding post s10 canon like the plague, so, I don’t know late s10 if it was set in 2020?
Also on FF and AO3
Word count: 809
“McCovid, you’re alive!” Tony’s jaw tensed as his paler than usual co-worker appeared on the screen, exhaustion and misery written all over his face. “How are you? Does Delilah have one of those nurse’s outfits, bet that would get you back to health in no time. Feel free to send me a picture, of Delilah, not you,” he rambled. Shifting slightly, he continued to fake a smile and a lightness he did not feel.
McGee attempted to roll his eyes and coughed briefly. “We’re fine.”
“Yeah, I can tell, there’s like half an inch of color on your left cheek. Definitely looking better than last time I saw you, if you hadn’t blinked when you did I’d’ve called Ducky.”
McGee stared at him blankly, a little too blankly. “What do you want?”
“Nothing, just checking in on my quarantined teammates. All of them, don’t think you’re getting special attention for possibly infecting the whole team.”
“You’re going to make me pay for you having to quarantine all by yourself, aren’t you?”
He scoffed, feeling some light-heartedness seeping into the situation. “I am an adult, Tim, I can survive a few weeks by myself, besides-“ The sound of cutlery hitting the floor drew his attention away from the screen. He glared.
“What was that?” McGee said more lively than he had sounded for days.
Tony faced the laptop and raised his eyebrows. “Hmm? Oh, that was.” He glanced away again briefly. “My cat.”
McGee narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a cat.”
He turned his attention to the kitchen, just in time to see another pair of eyes narrowing at him. “Found her scratching all panicky at the door this morning, looking disheveled, crazy matted hair-“
A wet kitchen towel hit him square in the face. By the time he had placed the towel on the coffee table she had slid onto the couch next to him with the speed and grace of a cat. Her piercing eyes made him forget the gravity of the situation, sending a tingle down his spine.
“Hello, Tim,” she said, sights firmly trained on Tony.
“Ziva? Why are you…” McGee’s voice sounded faint and confused. “You’re not supposed to…” He sighed in defeat, then coughed a few times.
Ziva turned towards the laptop. “Oh, Tony dropped his phone in the bath so we decided to quarantine together.”
McGee blinked slowly, and scrunched up his face. “I…you were taking a bath together?”
She chuckled and held Tony’s gaze again. “Trust me, when I share a bath with someone there is no need for.” She licked her lips as her gaze flicked to his mouth. “Technological distractions.”
“That…what?”
With great effort, Tony turned his attention back to his ill co-worker. At the bewildered look on McGee’s face, he explained, “We were on the phone when I dropped it in the water, Ziva panicked and rushed over here-“
“I did not panic.” She jabbed his chest with a finger. “You started coughing and then the line went dead, I did what any good partner would do.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Break quarantine instead of calling me on my landline?”
She opened and closed her mouth, then glared at him. “I did not panic.”
“I saw your face, Ziva,” he egged her on, as if they hadn’t already had this conversation hours ago.
“When I panic, I make this face.” She stared at him blankly.
The video call all but forgotten, he grinned, pretended she hadn’t looked ready to annihilate Death itself when she had burst through his front door earlier, and deadpanned, “That was the face.”
“You did not see that face,” she insisted, a gleam in her eyes.
“I saw that face.” He smiled warmly, pleased at his 10 AM decision to give in to self-indulgence and soak in the tub while sipping leftover wine. And while choking on the wine when Ziva made him laugh over the phone hadn’t been part of the plan, given the outcome, he’d gladly do it all over again. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he said, “You didn’t bring a hair tie?”
She looked him up and down, a sly smile appearing on her lips. “I didn’t bring anything.”
The laptop’s speaker crackled. “I feel nauseated.”
Tony watched McGee become even paler. “Try eating something, maybe that’ll settle your stomach.”
McGee glared back at him.
“Do you even have any food, other than what we had for lunch?” Ziva glanced towards the kitchen, knowing full well the only thing left in the fridge was alcohol.
“If you end up cannibalizing each other I’m not dealing with the crime scene,”
Tony moved closer to Ziva, ignoring his partner’s comment. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to.” He licked, then bit, his bottom lip. “Satisfy your appetite.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” McGee said, right before the screen went black.
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do they really believe we have the ability to just generate fic titles on command? i, good sirs, do not have this ability! so to introduce some realism about this process, what i’m gonna need you to do, tumblr user mazily, is put your music app of choice on shuffle, take the second line of the second verse of the second song it plays and write a summary for a fic of that title on whatsoever topic should seem to you appropriate
This happiness was always inside me
Last Tango in Halifax, Caroline/Gillian
Caroline always imagined—or, rather, she never imagined, but had she imagined such a situation, she would've imagined that it would be Gillian moving in with her: the roof at hers acting up again or the sheep deciding to live indoors and kicking the human interlopers out. But here she is, pulling up to Gillian's with her belongings stacked up on every surface of the car not otherwise carrying a person (herself, and Flora in her car seat, oblivious to Caroline's ridiculous musings), her (soon to be former) house full up with interfering mothers and ex-husbands and other assorted pests. She parks. Hands on the steering wheel, steady and not at all shaking, as she breathes in, out, like that new app her assistant installed on her phone—because it's this or we drop you in some retreat somewhere, and then where will the school be?—claims will help with anxiety or nerves or some bullshit. Visualizes her (soon to be former) house burning, herself Angela Bassett strutting away while it goes up in flames behind her. Flora calls out for Gillian, and Caroline feels her face go up in flames too. Opens her eyes, and who do you think is standing in her open doorway, laughing like she does sometimes at the sight of Caroline sat in her car?
Or: the one in which Caroline and Flora move in with Gillian, everyone gets some therapy, and Caroline learns that she knows how to be happy after all.
[send me a fake title, and I’ll eventually write a fake summary!]
