Title: Ultimatum
Prompt: Promise
Pairing: Ziva and Ron Sacks; surprise pairing (very minor)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen
Cat: Humor
Spoilers: None
Author's Note: Written for the NFA Weekly Writing Game, week 3.
A knock sounded on Agent Ron Sacks' apartment door. He strolled out from his bathroom, brushing his teeth, and opened the door, nearly choking on his toothpaste as he did so.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded through a frothy mouth.
His visitor smirked. "Ooh, I have made you foam at the mouth. Very nice. But unattractive." The visitor made a face, leaning in. "You may want to have that checked out."
Sacks rolled his eyes. "I was brushing my teeth, David. You learn that sarcasm from your wiseass partner?" He turned to walk back to his bathroom.
Ziva followed him through the apartment, touching things on her way through. "Wiseass?" she questioned.
Sacks turned to face her. "Yeah. DiNozzo. You knew who I meant."
"Of course," Ziva assured him. He threw up his hands and entered the bathroom, spitting out the toothpaste. "But I am not familiar with the term 'wiseass.'"
"Oh," Sacks said, joining her in the hallway. "Basically just that . . ." He trailed off, narrowing his eyes at her. "Hey. You never told me why you came here."
Ziva shrugged, feigning innocence. "I thought perhaps we could . . . chat, yes?" She gave him a dazzling smile.
He scowled. "You want something?"
Her demeanor darkened. "I would like it if you would agree to – no, promise to, leave NCIS alone."
Sacks gave her a look. "I never asked to be involved with your agency in the first place, Officer David."
Ziva kept her gaze steeled on him. "But now that you have been, you will not go away. And I would like to change that, Agent Sacks."
He rolled his eyes again, moving around to sit on the couch. "So what are you going to do if . . ." He trailed off as she sat down next to him, listening intently. "If I don't stay away from NCIS? Let's say your other partner, what's his name? McGee? Yeah, McGee. Let's say McGee, being the computer whiz he is, gets accused of hacking into the FBI's mainframe. And let's say Agent Fornell sends me in to investigate. Absolutely nothing you could do to stop that, honey." He chuckled to himself, but it was cut short by Ziva grabbing a particularly sensitive area of his body.
"I have been taught some very . . . unique torture devices in Mossad," she hissed. "Do not underestimate me, Mister Sacks."
"Agent Sacks, Ms. David," he corrected, glaring as she released him.
"As you wish," she huffed, then added, "Agent McGee would never . . ." She halted, then pointed her finger accusingly at Sacks. "You have already shown a certain dislike for our agency and our agents."
"Dislike is an understatement, David," Sacks said.
"Fine, well, I will have you know," she continued to point her finger at him, "that the feeling is quite mutual." She raised her eyebrows. "We at NCIS will try to remain out of FBI matters if you promise to keep out of our hairdos."
Sacks gave her a weird look as she stuck out her hand. "Alright. It's a deal." He stood and she followed suit, tailing him to the door, which he opened and she promptly stepped out. "But I'm just telling you right now, I can't control the orders I receive."
She shrugged. "Neither can we. But if I see your face at NCIS again, I will show you those torture devices, and you will not be a willing participant." She turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway, leaving Sacks in his doorway, flustered.
He stepped inside and shut the door, leaning against it. Biting his lip, he walked to his coffee table, picking up his cell phone and pressing a few numbers. After two rings, someone picked up and Sacks brought himself into the conversation. "Hey, Tony baby? You're gonna have to meet me for our date next Tuesday . . ."
THE END!