None of these drabbles are truly connected, except for being Tiva. There's humor, romance. This first one is new(!), but the next few will be oldies from Tumblr. Hopefully I can continue to add new stuff.

Schooled (1/?)

Tony stared out into the hallway, the wash of students a flood between bells. "Smells like teen spirit."

"And is that smell sweaty armpits?" Ziva scrunched her nose and waved her hand to clear the air. Her wrist cloaked in bracelets caught his eye—again. Not to mention the painted nails and her skirt-and-heels to round out the disguise.

God bless undercover ops.

But even his partner all prim and polished couldn't distract him from the panic swelling acid in his gut.

"Scary, isn't it?"

"I agree," Ziva said as she slouched against the wall outside his pretend classroom. "Boys should not wear those monkey jeans, yes?"

"You mean skinny jeans. I think."

"Whatever. Very unattractive."

"Not that."

"Then what," she demanded, leaning in ever so slightly.

Tony noted—and appreciated—her tactic, but all it elicited from him was a dejected sigh. Things were bad if he passed up a prime opportunity to smell her hair.

Ziva tilted her head, still trying. "Is substitute teaching a challenge for you, Tony?"

"Nothing is too challenging for this Very Special Agent." Yet, another sigh depressed his chest as a group of varsity jackets swaggered by.

This was supposed to be easy in, easy solve-the–mystery-of-who-killed-the-retired-marine-turned-teacher-working-at-the-high-school-at-Quantico case. As much as it pained him to admit, Ziva was partly right—teaching was harder than it looked. After just two class periods with Navy brats aplenty, Tony had come to a realization that frightened him to the core.

"I could be their…dad, Ziva." The confession escaped with a cringe. "How is that possible?"

Her laugh was deep, throaty—and he almost overlooked that she was laughing at him. "Biologically or—"

The warning bell sounded, and the students, well, ignored it and continued talking with their friends.

"Way to kick a man when he's down, David." With a scoff, he perched his arm against the metal doorframe above her head.

The all-too-familiar pose was not lost on Ziva. She stepped into his space, paying great attention to smoothing down his tie, her hand lingering on his chest. "Look on the bright side, Tony, at least you are not actually any of their fathers. Are you not afraid of children?"

"I wouldn't call it a fear..." He absentmindedly ironed the same stretch of tie that she'd touched. "Maybe a mild allergy."

"You told me that you almost died in the child care room." Her dark eyes sparkled and teased. "What is it about sweet little children that terrify you, anyway?"

"Hey, you weren't there! Those sweet little children were everywhere, okay, like a tiny mob of sticky hands and runny noses, and they put this green stuff everywhere that I'm still not positive wasn't chemical waste because it never came out of my pants and—"

"Oh my God, please stop." Ziva pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, shutting her eyelids before snapping them open and taking him by the shoulders. Her gaze was steel. "Tony, look at me. These are teenagers, not small, harmless children. They are practically adults, and we will only be here until Gibbs gets his man. You will be fine."

He stared back into her eyes, searching. "What if I'm not, Ziva?" His insecurity—hushed, fragile—blinded him from the softening of his partner. "What if I'm still like this when I…"

"You won't." Her confidence reached him like cool water to his parched soul.

Tony gulped, not totally convinced but not wanting to argue with her. "You think so?"

"Yes. And until then…" Ziva whirled around him in the direction of her classroom down the hall. "Man up." The order was accompanied by a firm smack to his butt.

Tony swayed, probably blushing—and lighter. "You're very persuasive, Ms. David!" His shout drew the scorn of a passing gaggle of girls. "Teacher conference," he explained. "Move along."

Looking up again, he caught sight of Ziva's sly smile before she slipped into the sea of students. And maybe, he thought… Maybe there was something—or someone—to dispel his fears, after all.

Shaking out his shoulders like a boxer preparing for round two, Tony drew a breath and stepped back into his classroom.

"You got this, DiNozzo."