Y'know what, my Christmas present to myself is going to be no disclaimer.
A/N: A Christmas gift to Emily (Tiva4evaxxx). I really hope you like it - you better, I worked my arse off. =P Have a great day. Get lots of presents. Well, I know you will, cause I know all the people writing you them....
A/N2: Apologies to all my TRM colleagues.
Ziva David stepped into the club. Smoke curled through the room, and loud music sent vibrations through the thick, warm air. Her jeans clung to her hips as they swayed gently with each precisely measured step she took on her black heels. The dancers parted for her without realising that was what they were doing, and although she did notice, she pretended not to. She slid up into a worn down wooden barstool. A couple stood at her side, absorbed in conversation. She saw the man's hand slip over the top of a drink that he offered to his companion. Leaning over the bar herself, she didn't hesitate in allowing her hand to knock over the glass in one seemingly clumsy movement. Apologising profusely, she bought another drink for the woman and personally handed it over. She didn't know what the man would do next, or if the woman would ever realise what he had tried, but she allowed herself a smile at this small victory.
It was the first time she had ever visited America, on simple protection detail for a higher up in Mossad. He had given the detail their final night off, and because no one she'd worked with before was there, she had slipped off alone and come here. Finally, the overworked bartender turned to her, and she ordered a Scorpion, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Ari had suggested both the club and the drink to her.
"You will like it – it is one of my favourite places to visit in America."
"What even makes you think I will have the time?" Ziva laughed.
"Ziva, I have been on more protection details than I can count – even the protectee gets bored."
"So what am I to order again?"
"A Scorpion – two parts white rum, one part brandy, one part lemon juice and one part orange juice. And you must promise me not to trust anyone drinking a White Russian," he jested, a brotherly glint in his eye.
"You drink a White Russian, Ari – you would not have me trust someone like you?"
"Never."
She had laughed as she shoved her gun into its holster. "I will try your bar if I have the opportunity."
She sipped the cocktail, immediately enjoying it and laughing inwardly at how well Ari knew her. She sensed someone slipping into the seat beside her, and glanced cautiously to the side. It was a man, and a quick scan of his body revealed to her that he was armed, but that could be said for half the club and didn't overly concern her. He caught her looking and turned to face her, raising his eyebrows suggestively with a wide grin.
"Is there something I can do for you?" she said, tone aloof, but eyes sparkling.
At the same time a bartender asked, "What can I get for you?"
The man looked as though something was clicking in his brain, and the grin grew wider. Ziva saw what was coming.
"If you say a 'Screaming Orgasm'," she warned, flicking her eyes briefly to his crotch, "I can guarantee you will never have one again."
"Would that be the drink of the.."
"Both."
"In that case," he continued, turning to the bartender but keeping Ziva in the corner of his eye, "Sex On The Beach please."
The bartender snorted with laughter, and Ziva shot him a death glare, but couldn't prevent a grudgingly amused smile of her own.
The man took his drink and sat next to Ziva, angling himself to face her. He raised his glass. She bit her lip coquettishly, a teasing smile in her eyes as she appeared to come to a decision, and clinked her drink against his.
"Cheers," he said.
She shook her head, chuckling. "Cheers." He winced as he took a sip. "You do not even like that, do you?"
"It was worth it."
Ziva laughed with him, marvelling at the man's audacity.
-----
Tony couldn't believe his luck as he pulled her back toward him. They had spent half a hour verbally sparring, oblivious to the rest of the club. She had refused to let him buy her a drink. He made a mental note not to get into a discussion about feminism. He had recently transferred to Baltimore PD. He knew why – in Philadelphia he had been somewhat a stranger to the rules, but it was never fun to be new. He started on Monday, and though he never would have admitted it, he was nervous. So he'd found a club, and found a girl.
And then he'd asked her to dance. It seemed obvious that she would be good – something about the way she held herself. He hadn't had such fun dancing for a long time, though he was completely out of breath. His hands grazed over her hips, and she linked hers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, whispering, "Shall we get out of here?"
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her toward the door.
------
Ziva led him through the door of his apartment. As soon as the door closed she pushed him up against the wall, pressing her lips to his forcefully as her fingers deftly undid the buttons of her shirt. When she was done he pulled her around, pinning her in the same position. She shoved his shirt off and lightly traced the outline of his shoulders. Nestling her head in his neck as she had in the club, she kissed him there, and whispered, "Where's the bedroom?"
He tugged on her belt-loops, and she followed him.
-----
When Ziva woke his arm was wrapped around her. It was an unusual experience, and she didn't really want to get up. And yet the alarm clock on his bedside table told her she had 2 hours to be back in Washington D.C. for the plane leaving. She lifted his arm gently, and turned to look at him. One night stands aren't meant to feel like this, she told herself. "Thank you," she muttered, running her finger along his jaw, gently kissing his cheek.
She dressed and used his phone to call a taxi.
------
A single night fades easily. Sometimes she'd think of him, but rarely. As years went by, not at all. Eventually he was shoved to a dark corner of her mind, and left there to gather dust. She worked through Mossad, he in Baltimore PD.
Maybe fate, maybe chance, somehow they both ended up at NCIS.
When she first saw him, she thought she recognised his smile. When he first heard her, he thought he knew her voice.
They'd never known each other's names. They'd never seen each other in the light.
But there was something. On the edge of every moment. In the kiss that wasn't quite their first, so many years later. Never grasped, always there. A lingering memory.
...........and..........??
Merry Christmas to Em, and to Em a good... day!