The hum of the office computers filled the room, punctuated by the soft clicking of keys. McGee was focused, eyes scanning lines of code on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced precision. You leaned over his shoulder, just a little too close, your arm brushing against his as you pointed at something on the monitor. “Right here,” you said softly, voice casual, letting the tip of your finger hover over the exact line you wanted him to see. McGee froze mid-keystroke. His fingers twitched nervously, eyes flicking to yours, then back to the screen, trying to maintain focus. “Uh… yeah, that makes sense,” he said, voice slightly higher than usual. His shoulder was warm under yours, and he could feel the subtle pressure as you leaned a fraction closer. You didn’t move, letting the proximity linger, watching as he adjusted his posture, subtly shifting away while pretending to type faster. “You sure that’s correct?” you asked, voice teasing but professional, just enough to make him swallow hard. McGee cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “Absolutely,” he said quickly, too quickly, eyes darting back to the screen, fingers hitting the keys with a little more force than necessary. “Totally correct. No issues.” You smirked, leaning back slightly but not enough to fully break the tension. The room was quiet again, except for the faint hum of the computer and McGee’s uneven breathing, and you could tell — every inch you’d leaned in had left him a little rattled.