Title: Revenge and the Art of Spitballs
Category: Humor, Romance, Episode Tag
Spoilers: 5x06 Chimera
Disclaimers: Neither NCIS nor any of its characters belongs to me.
Notes: Thanks to Rose Wilde Irish for the beta and title.
"Good night," Ziva said, nodding to Gibbs and McGee.
"Good night, Ziva."
She deliberately ignored Tony, who was nearly done shutting down for the night, and headed toward the elevator.
"Hey, Ziva, wait up," Tony called, grabbing his bag and running after her. He managed to dart in between the elevator doors before they closed.
As soon as the doors had shut, Ziva turned to Tony and punched him in the arm. Hard.
"Ow! What the hell!" He rubbed his arm; there would definitely be bruises there later.
"You are lucky I did not break your hand, DiNozzo," Ziva said. "And if you ever shoot those spitballs at me again, it won't be your hand I will go after."
Tony laughed to cover his nervousness. "That was just a joke, Ziva. You wouldn't kill me for having a little harmless fun, would you?"
"I don't recall saying that I would kill you, just maim you."
"My mistake," Tony replied sarcastically. He waited for a half-minute before tentatively asking, "You're still coming over tonight, right?"
"You are an idiot," Ziva said as the elevator chimed and the doors opened. She exited without a backwards glance.
"Is that a yes?" Tony yelled after her.
Two weeks later, a repeat of the spitball incident occurred.
Tony was so dead. Their upcoming investigation was the only reason that he was still breathing. That and she didn't want any witnesses.
McGee was with them in the elevator this time, so Ziva stewed in quiet silence as Tony stood next to her. She could smell the fear rolling off of him. (He also needed to get a better deodorant.) Fortunately for him, she had more pressing matters on her mind than ripping off his genitalia. That could wait until later.
In the parking lot, they parted ways with McGee.
"So, I was thinking that you should pack that dark green nightie," Tony said once they were alone, obviously trying to get her mind off of revenge.
Ziva rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Tony."
"Yeah," Tony agreed happily, and Ziva knew exactly where his mind was going.
"Before you even suggest it, we are not having sex on a naval vessel."
"Ziva, we have to! We've never done it on a navy ship before. When will we ever get another chance?"
"It is a military ship, Tony, not a luxury cruise. Besides, Gibbs, McGee, and Ducky will be there, not to mention, I don't know, the entire crew of the ship."
"Those things are huge, Ziva. There's always plenty of empty rooms and cargo spaces on them, and they're like mazes so it's easy to get 'lost' for an hour or two. And remember, it's not like we haven't had sex with a lot of other people around-"
"Speaking of memories," Ziva interrupted, "don't think I've forgotten my promise from two weeks ago."
Tony's smile faded. "Ziva," he whined, sounding like a little boy. "I'm, uh, sorry?"
"It is too late for apologies."
They reached Ziva's car. She unlocked the door and threw her bag inside. He winced as it crashed onto the seat.
"Don't worry, Tony," Ziva said, straightening up to look at him. She leaned forward, lowering her voice seductively, "I promise not to harm you until after the mission is over."
"Wow, thanks," Tony said, his voice one pitch higher than normal.
"Go home and pack," Ziva said, smiling. "We have a flight to catch."
She slapped him playfully on the cheek, perhaps a little harder than necessary.
"I told you it was a freckle," Ziva said as she and Tony entered her apartment.
They had finished writing up their reports on the Chimera incident and had been sent home by Gibbs and Jenny. It was now almost two in the morning, and Ziva wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. Almost dying of a deadly airborne disease, a demonic lion-serpent-goat ghost, Russian pirates, and a missile attack had made her extra cranky, even if only the last two had been real. Not to mention, having to deal with Tony's absurd freckle angst throughout the investigation.
"I know you did, and I'm sorry for not believing you. But to be fair, even I didn't know I had that freckle," Tony said, tossing his things onto the floor.
He followed her and the trail of clothes she was leaving to the bathroom.
"Tony, I have a photographic memory, and I have seen every inch of your body. Multiple times. I know every single freckle, mole, pimple, and scar that you have."
"I don't have any pimples!" Tony protested, his indignation slightly muffled as he pulled off his shirt.
The only answer he received was the sound of the water turning on. He paused to pull off his shoes and socks, then shucked off his pants and boxers. When he got into the shower, Ziva had already soaked her hair and was starting to shampoo it.
Always happy to help out his girlfriend, at least when they were both naked, Tony said, "Let me," and took over for her. He loved her hair and never hesitated to mention how nice it smelled or how soft it was. Ziva made contented sounds as Tony lathered it. She could feel some of her stress fading away as he gently massaged her scalp.
Twenty-five minutes later, they finished washing and drying off, though Ziva's hair was still wet. Too tired to bother with clothes, they crawled into bed together. Ziva immediately curled up against Tony's side, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Tony murmured, "'Night, sweetheart."
"Sleep well, Tony," Ziva said. She waited until his eyes closed before adding innocently, "Enjoy your last night on earth."
His eyes flew open. "What?"
"Photographic memory, Tony," Ziva reminded him, smiling against his neck. "If you wanted to live, you should not have spitballed me a second time."
"Zee-vah..." His voice sounded pathetic, even to him.
"Pleasant dreams, Tony," Ziva said sweetly, leaning up to kiss his chin. "I will deal with you in the morning."