Disclaimer: Packaged in a facility that also processes nuts. May contain nuts.
Spoilers: Double Identity, but of the minor, blink and you may miss it variety.
Summary: Ziva continues to be Tony's personal probie.
Hey!
Ziva stared at the text message on her phone, trying to decide how to interpret the tone of the three letters, plus punctuation. She normally received communiqués with the minimal number of letters, so the fact that he had bothered to include an exclamation mark indicated that this was a demand and not a simple greeting. She would likely receive a more detailed message in the next three to five minutes, depending on how many letters long it was. If she ignored that, the phone calls would start.
The phone sat on her coffee table until it buzzed again to tell her, Wash not done. Need you. Come by 9.
She puzzled over this for a moment. Was this some kind of strange shower ritual? There was no doubt he had been getting more and more annoying with his requests, but this…this…
She answered the call before the phone had a chance to get through a full ring, "Tony, I draw the line at bathing you."
"When did I ask for that? I mean, it sounds like fun, but…awwww." He laughed. And continued to laugh. She snapped her phone shut.
She picked up on the third ring when he called back. "Are you quite done?"
"Oh, I was just getting starting, you naughty probie. Now you have to wash my delicates by hand."
"I may go to the coffee shop for you, but that is strictly self-service. Have fun."
"Don't hang up, don't hang up! Just get over here and bring dryer sheets!"
"Laundry?" She sank into her sofa, feeling like she would prefer to go right through to the floor. He would not be forgetting this anytime soon. She could hear him now, shouting across the bullpen, 'Probie, if you're not too busy thinking about giving me a sponge bath, go get me lunch!' She shook her head violently to clear the scent of his lamp-sock, which she still couldn't rationalize having sniffed, from her mind.
"Ziva? Hey, Ziva! You there?"
She realized that she was still on the phone with him. "You really want me to come over to do your laundry?"
"Yeah, in spite of your offer to get in the shower and lather me up, I was just making an innocent request. If you do a good job on the laundry, I might let you clean me up a little next."
"There will be no next, because I will not be going anywhere near your smelly laundry."
"It doesn't smell that…" She could hear him inhale and cough. "You can wear gloves, I guess, if that makes you feel better."
"Why do you even need me? You are perfectly capable of doing your own laundry."
"Hey, I'm capable of lots of things, but that doesn't mean I don't like a woman's touch for…" She waited silently on the line for him to continue. He eventually said, "There's no way I can talk myself out of this without sounding like a chauvinist pig, is there?"
"No."
"Okay. If you do your probie duty and…"
"Your laundry is not part of my job description!"
"A probationary agent will accept instruction from senior agents and obey all orders essential for the successful completion of team assignments."
"That is not in the manual."
"Check page thirty-one, super probie. Unless…do you not have your manual right there? Tsk, tsk." He chuckled. "Right, so this senior agent needs to be looking clean and smelling nice to do his job well, hence the probie chores."
She decided to try a different tactic. "I do not remember you making McGee do things like this when he was the probie."
"Meaning I didn't provide him with dinner and a movie, either. We'll make an evening of it. You can't say no to Italian food and an Oscar-nominated film! And ironing!"
"I can say no to pizza very easily and you have already made me watch every movie tangentially related to this year's Oscars. As for the iron…"
"Yeah, I see your point. Scary Moussad iron-fu is involved, I'm sure. But I didn't say the movie was from this year."
"Okay, we're done. Have a good night and good luck with your laundry."
"Wait! I already ordered the eggplant parmigiana! It's on its way! And I'll even throw the stuff in the washing machine myself, so all you'll have to do is put it in the dryer and fold it!"
She latched onto the most shocking thing he had said, "You are going to eat eggplant?"
"No, you are. I got veal for myself. Though I'm gonna be stuck with useless eggplant and too much wine and no one to watch Titanic with."
She covered up a flutter of her heart and memories of freshman year in college with, "Titanic? Seriously?"
"No good? Uh, how about Apocalypse Now? Gone With the Wind? Gettysburg? Hey, that one'll be good for you to watch before you take your test. I bet there's questions about the Civil War. Plus it's got lots of shooting, which I know you like."
"Are you just naming random movies?"
"Something like that. So, you'll be here?"
"Well…" She glanced at her spotless kitchen. "I suppose I do not feel like cooking."
"Good! I've got just enough time to throw the laundry in before the food and you get here. Remember, dryer sheets!"
"Tony…"
"Bring them and you'll get a probie snack. Maybe pie."
"What kind of pie?"
"Cherry. It's only two days old and it's been in the fridge so..."
"Hm."
"I know a great place that delivers desserts. Pineapple upside-down cake? Cannoli? Flaky-creamy pastry things?"
She sighed. "I am almost afraid to say that I leave it up to your judgment."
"Sweet. You know I loves me some cannoli. Okay, so get in the car and get over here."
"I…" She stood almost against her will, moving toward her coat. "I will be there in fifteen minutes."
"See you."
She was locking her door when her phone buzzed again. Out of milk.
She decided it was easier to just pick up a gallon of milk than to question why they would need any milk as they ate dinner and did laundry and watched a movie. She was able to punch out a message as she walked down the stairs to her car, On my way.