Hockey Night in D.C.
A/N: This is to just honor the Stanley Cup Finals between the Boston Bruins and the Chicago Blackhawks, not to mention to honor the bond my late father and I had through a lifelong love of the Hawks. He'd be going nuts right now. I miss his WOO-HOO from the Rec Room every time the Hawks made a goal. So, dad, this one is for you. Hawks fan since the womb! Let the puck drop!
Since we're not going to get many more father/daughter moments between Gibbs and Ziva...
Because my sorry self couldn't finish this fast enough...Hawks won Lord Stanley's Cup and it's having a tour of good old Chicagoland this very minute! Go Hawks!
Yes, I am still working on Chapter 14 of Interlude. It's a little slow going with the end of the school year and final grades having to be put in, graduation for three of my Sp. Ed. Students, etc. Almost there, almost there...
It was unexpected, wholly unexpected, when Gibbs breezed into the bull pen amidst the aroma of hot, strong coffee and stopped in the middle of the floor. He eyed his agents carefully. He smirked slightly. "Be at my place, 6:30. Makin' burgers and watchin' hockey. Stanley Cup Finals."
The three Agents' mouths dropped open. Tony and McGee gaped openly and Ziva's lips curved into a knowing smile. Hockey. Of course Gibbs would like hockey. There was a lifelong skill, grace and finesse and subtly about it, if you knew what you were looking at. It was never just about fighting on ice. It was something far more skillful. Of course Gibbs would like hockey.
Ziva was the first to speak up. "I will be there, Gibbs. Do you want us to bring anything?"
"You can make those fries of yours and bring sides."
"And beer, Boss?" Tony asked warily.
"And beer."
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The doorbell rang and Gibbs wiped his hands on his dish towel after prepping his burgers for the grill. He knew that DiNozzo and McGee could put several away easily, the ladies... Ziva could easily eat two and so could Abby. How those two stayed as slender as they did puzzled him. He knew Ziva worked out hard to maintain her Mossad fitness. Abby...bowled. Maybe she had a high metabolism.
Gibbs swung the door wide to find Ziva standing there, reusable grocery bag in hand. He took in her hockey jersey, the rival to his own Bruins one he was sporting. "Ziver, come in."
Ziva stepped in and gave him a playful look, noting that he was wearing the opposing team's jersey. "I brought what I need to make those fries and I stopped at the Kosher Deli to get a tray, since we're watching a big game tonight. Should be a good one."
He watched her walk in. "Blackhawks fan?"
"Yeah, they have had Mikita, Savard, Esposito and Hull, do I need to go on? Now they have Crawford, Towes, Kane, Sharpe and Hossa. What a great line up! What?! We do have ice rinks and hockey in Israel!" She grinned up at him. "Long time fan, one of the Original Six. This is going to be a great series!"
He let it lie in respect to her hockey knowledge: Original Six...Boston, Chicago, Detroit, Montreal, Toronto and New York, as he lead her into the kitchen. They could trash talk when the puck dropped. "Good. Then we can cheer on our teams and have a good time tonight."
"Shall I start the fries? Or are you not ready yet?" she asked innocently, but anything but. She was already in the mindset of the game and challenging him.
He did not take the bait, as he finished the prep on the burgers. "Kitchen is all yours. You better make a mountain since the boys eat like college kids."
She tossed a grin over his shoulder as she began to wash the potatoes. "I intend to. You can eat a mountain of them, yourself, if I remember right."
He grinned back at her as he piled the burgers on a tray to take them outside. "I'm startin' the grill."
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"Man, Boss, I thought you only made steaks cowboy style. I didn't know you could make burgers like this!" DiNozzo complimented, his mouth half full still.
"Did not anyone teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" Ziva scolded, all in good humor. She reached over and stole another burger from the pile, slapping American cheese on it and the putting on the condiments, plus lettuce, tomato and onion.
"Hey, Ziva, I thought you were Jewish," Tony teased back, "Isn't there some law about not eating meat and dairy together?", he said gesturing at the cheeseburger she just took a huge bite out of.
Ziva chewed and swallowed before answering. "I am not Orthodox, Tony, nor am I observant. Besides, when you are Mossad, you cannot afford to stand out when on assignment and asking for Kosher and not eating meat and dairy together makes you stick out like a sore tooth."
"That's thumb, Ziva," Tony corrected automatically.
She waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. I have not kept strict Kosher since I was in the IDF. Once I entered Mossad, all practice ceased. I do, still, however, prefer Kosher foods when I can get them. I am lucky, since about 95% of what is commercially available is Kosher. It is simple to keep mildly Kosher. I can and will teach about the delights of Kosher meats when I can. The deli tray was all Kosher."
"You know," McGee said, "I always wondered about that, but didn't want to be rude enough to ask. I mean you like your Philly cheese steak with extra steak and extra cheese. The deli tray is awesome. That's some of the best lunch meat I've ever had."
"Well, now you know," Ziva said, smiling at him.
"Gibbs, who made the fries? They are totally awesome!" Abby said, sort of coming to Ziva's rescue, not that she needed it.
Gibbs jerked a thumb over to his left. "Ziver."
Abby looked over at her friend. "How did you do it? These are amazing!"
"Ancient Mossad secret," Ziva replied cryptically.
Gibbs snickered, remembering that old laundry commercial and grinned evilly at her. "That's bullshit, David. Tell her."
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There was shouting and shoving and it was in Gibbs' living room during the Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals. It was already the first overtime and Gibbs and Ziva were playfully shoving each other around the living room in concert with their respective teams. Heaving exhausted breaths and huge smiles, laughing, they broke apart to get snacks for the first overtime.
"Good game, David."
She replied with, "Good game, Gibbs. We're gonna kick your tukkus."
"You wish, David."
"Not a wish but a promise. We're going to wipe the ice with you! You're name will be Zamboni!"
"Not gonna happen!"
"Want to let the less educated in?" Tony asked. The game was fun to watch, but he didn't understand the rules.
Gibbs spoke up. "Overtime happens when the teams are at an even stall point. The next goal in Overtime wins the game. If no one scores we go to double overtime and then triple overtime, although I find this crazy. Somebody needs to score and the boys are getting tired on both teams. Great game!"
Tony sat back, contemplating the rules as well as watching the distinct father/daughter rapport that Gibbs and Ziva held between them. If anything, sharing a love of a sport drew them together even more than anything work related. They playfully shoved each other around his living room during the next overtime period and the next when Ziva jumped into the air and shouted.
"Game over Hawks Win!"
Gibbs was his usual taciturn self. "Yeah, yeah, David. Don't gloat."
"Who's gloating?!" she grinned at him. "Hawks win one of seven. Are you going to deny me the thrill of victory on ice?"
"Nope, but don't bring it to work."
Her smile was sly, thinking of the Hawks baseball cap and jersey Tony had gotten her on his most recent conference in Chicago. "Never dream of it, Jethro." She said silkily.
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The Stanley Cup Finals won, and by Chicago this year, made Ziva a little arrogant and Gibbs a little grumpy. After the final win by the Hawks, Ziva dared to wear her jersey to work, grinning evilly at Gibbs, still sulking that his Bruins lost. In all fairness, Ziva bought him lunch and then dinner when the case they were working on went into the wee hours and became professionally challenging.
Yet, when the case was solved and everything set and done, Gibbs stopped at Ziva's desk and gave her a very fatherly kiss on the cheek " Great series. It was fun to watch it with you, kid."