A/N: Just something fun I wrote when I was tired. I hope you like it. I actually got the song stuck in my head. But anyway, I don't own NCIS and I don't own the song "Drunken Sailor" or whatever it's called. -flail- In this case, Drunken Ziver.
"What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver, earl-i in the morning?"
"Tony! I am not the drunk one, remember? You are!"
She'd barely been awake at the time, her eyes half shut, the TV bathing her in light that threw shadows on the walls. The pictures on the screen were entertaining, but she hadn't entirely focused. Not on sight, not on sound. It was more a blur than anything, something to keep her awake just a little longer. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep, at any time. Especially not on one of her precious few vacation days.
A knock at the door had brought her awake with a jolt, though she hadn't wanted to move. She'd been perfectly content where she was, dozing, pretending to know what was going on around her. Her "ninja senses" - as Tony had so often referred to them - did actually need a rest once and a while.
But nevertheless, she forced herself up, grabbing at the wall for a support as she walked. Another knock sounded and she rolled her eyes. Why would anyone be at her house this late? She hadn't exactly planned to go out drinking tonight, and most bars wouldn't let them in at this time anyway! 24/7 bars were a dangerous business, she knew, and only meant trouble.
So, it wasn't one of her drinking buddies. She could cross that off the list… if she had any drinking buddies, anyway.
Slowly, she opened the door. It was dark in the hallway - she could barely see the form in front of her, but who it was was undeniable. Before she had a chance to move, before she could tell him no, he pushed past her, stepping into her apartment as if he owned the place. With a sigh, she turned on her heel and closed the door behind her.
This would make for an interesting night, she decided. He'd never shown up this late unless he was drunk, and she could see right off that he was. He was more drunk than she'd ever seen him, staggering and talking in a loud voice. After hearing the word "wall" and "you" in the same sentence multiple times, she decided that she didn't want to know what was going through his mind. Either he was talking to the wall, or trying to say something about her and the wall.
What did she have to do with a wall?
"ZIVA!" her name was unmistakeable. She groaned and walked towards him, not replying. He saw her almost immediately, and a boyish grin lit up on his face. "Ziva! I… foundsh you!"
His words were slurred, but she could understand him. What, did he think that he lost her?
"Oh!" he exclaimed, his voice now at nearly a yell. "I hash… haha!"
And that's when it started. She cringed as soon as one drunken note left his voice; he was horribly out of tune and doing his best to annoy her, even drunk. Tony… that was just who he was.
"What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver, earl-i in the morning?"
Exasperated, she attempted to stop him with her words. "Tony! I am not the drunk one, remember? You are!"
"I could makesh you drunk," he declared, eyes shining. "Drunk on my love!"
She nearly laughed at this statement. The alcohol talking made for a very entertaining DiNozzo. As irritated as she was before, perhaps she could play his game… perhaps he'd talk, and stop singing that stupid song. After all, she'd never gotten drunk and yelled a stupid song at his house - as far as she knew, anyway.
"Drunk on your love, Tony?" she asked, lowering her voice and leaning against a wall. "How do you expect to do that?"
"Eashy! I sing to you and you will fall hopeleshly in love with me!"
"No, Tony, please-"
"What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver, earl-i in the morning?"
"Tony! Would you stop that!" The irritation was coming back now that he'd started singing again. She sighed; maybe this wouldn't work. She'd simply have to find something to do with him for the night.
"But you wanted to know," he pouted. "You're shupposed to fall hopeleshly in love with me! Why'sh it not working?"
"Perhaps I prefer it if you don't sing?" she suggested, playing along once again. "Perhaps I prefer it if you're simply quiet?"
"Oh," he said, quiet for a moment. "Hey! Ziva! I hash an idea. Let's watch a movie!"
"No, I'm too tired," she told him. Honestly, she'd rather not be stuck watching a movie with a drunken man, especially not one like him. He'd be likely to attempt something if she wasn't paying attention.
"Tired? You need helpsh to bed?" he waggled his eyebrows at her, grinning now. "I can helpsh."
"No, no, Tony-" but he reached for her anyway, throwing a clumsy hand around her waist. She pulled away, shaking her head.
"Tony, you can sleep on the couch. But please… don't sing that song again."
"Okay," he said, pouting anyway. He slowly settled onto her sofa, watching as she left him. And as she crawled into bed, she could hear the notes again.
"What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver? What do you do with a drunken Ziver earl-i in the morning?"