Title: Antics
Rating: T for violence and language.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Pairings: Most likely Tiva.
Summary: Ziva's sick and Tony's annoyed because he has to drive her home. Things get a whole lot more complicated when they become involved in a plot to get a dangerous criminal back on the streets.
A/N: This idea came to me yesterday while trying to sleep and would not leave my head. Os I started writing it. I really hope you enjoy it. All suggestions, comments and criticism is welcome. Please do review, it makes my day.
Tony was grumbling as he stopped once more on his way to the parking lot, waiting for Ziva to catch up with him. Damn the stubborn woman! he kept thinking over and over again. Not only had he been forced to take his partner home, which had been entirely McGeek's fault, but now she kept refusing his help despite the fact that she was swaying slightly as she walked and kept falling behind.
Tony sighed. If it wasn't because that day had been living proof, he would've never believed that Ziva could even get sick. From the start of shift, however, it had been clear that she was not feeling well and, despite her assurances that she was fine, she kept coughing - her coughs rather dry and painful sounding - all over the place and rubbing her head as if trying to make a headache go away. As the day had wore on, she seemed to be getting worse, until Tony had come from getting a cup of coffee to find her deep asleep on her desk, her pen still clutched in her hand and the sheet of paperwork she'd been working on lying right below her head.
Gibbs, who'd been in a meeting with the director, had arrived just in time to hear Tony telling McGee that he should take Ziva home, which had been originally McGee's idea anyway. Apparently, Probie had thought that she was in no condition to drive. Tony secretly agreed, but driving Ziva meant that he wouldn't have time to finish his own paperwork, which would then mean that he'd have to wake up early the following day. Nonetheless, Gibbs had ordered Tony to do it, much to his indignation. And now, he was on babysitting duty.
Tony cursed again, this time directed at McGee. The younger agent had been so much more ahead of him on his work and yet he'd been stuck with this task.
His internal complaining was cut short by the rather hoarse voice of his partner.
"Are you coming, Tony?" Ziva was looking at him impatiently with red-rimmed eyes, standing a few steps in front of him. It seemed that, while he'd been seething, she'd managed to catch up and leave him behind, if only by a short distance. The irony was not lost on him. He quickly caught up but was soon forced to slow his pace once more.
"You know, Tony; you don't really have to do this. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home." Her statement was somewhat ruined by the fact that she had to stop mid sentence because she'd lost her voice and had to clear her throat a few times before she could carry on. He smirked and shook his head.
"Sure Ziva, because there is no chance at all that you'd suddenly just fall asleep on the dashboard, right?" She blushed slightly. "Besides, Gibbs would kill me for disobeying a direct order."
They fell in step silently for a few minutes before Ziva started coughing, forcing her to stop walking for a minute or two. Her coughing fit lasted for quite a few seconds and left her gasping for air. Tony, who had placed a hand on her back while she coughed, looked at her in concern. She was mostly pale but her cheeks were flushed, she was shivering slightly and her coat was wrapped tightly around her thin frame, despite the fact that it was quite warm inside the building; small beads of sweat were also forming around her hairline. Tony was willing to bet anything that she had a fever. She was also clutching her stomach as if she felt queasy. All annoyance he'd felt previously faded completely, she really looked like crap.
"I hate being sick, I never get sick!" complained Ziva when she finally recovered. Tony looked at her sympathetically.
"Don't worry, Zee-vah," he said as they finally stepped into the parking lot. "I'm sure all super spies get sick every once in a while. I mean, Bond must have gotten sick at some point during his life, although I really can't think of an occasion..." He trailed off when they reached his car.
He unlocked it and stepped inside while Ziva did the same.
The sharp jab of the barrel of a gun was completely unexpected and he yelped as it pressed against the back of his neck. Alarmed, he tried to move to see who the culprit was. A cold voice spoke before he could turn his head even an inch.
"Don't move! Eyes to the front, DiNozzo. I won't hesitate to shoot you. Or your lovely partner here." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ziva had a similarly shocked expression on her face. One of her hands, however, was moving to the waistband of her jeans.
A soft laugh rang out. "Hands on the dashboard, David." Tony could see her comply while muttering mutinously. He looked helplessly at his own hands which had been on the steering wheel the whole time, and if Ziva had not been able to pass her movements undetected, then neither would his. He felt like punching the dashboard in frustration but wouldn't dare risk it so, instead, he sighed loudly. A hand snaked out from behind the seats and grabbed Ziva's gun from her holster and then proceeded to do the same with his.
Great! Now there was no way they'd get out of this mess.
"Alright, DiNozzo," said the voice behind them. "You are going drive all the way to your house, okay? Try and let the guards at the entrance know that anything is wrong and you'll pay." He let the menace hang in the air for a few seconds before nudging Tony with gun.
"What do you want?" Tony's question was met with silence and another nudge from the gun. Resigned, he turned on the ignition and did as he was told.
The ride to his home was quiet and tense, especially when they left the navy yard. For a minute both Ziva and Tony were holding their breaths, hoping that someone would somehow realise that something was wrong. They were completely disappointed; they passed through the security checkpoint just as they did everyday.
The silence was only broken every few minutes by a new coughing fit on Ziva's part. This left Tony with a lot of time to think. What on Earth could this man want? How had he gotten into the Navy Yard? Into his car? Now that he thought about it, the voice sounded somewhat familiar but he just couldn't find a face to go with it. More importantly, though, how were they going to get out of this mess? He knew that between Ziva and him they could overpower the man in a blink of an eye when they got out of the car. Or at least, they would be able to under normal circumstances. With Ziva as sick as she was, though... he couldn't take anything for granted. Still, their backups were still in their ankle holsters and they still had their knifes, so there was hope.
When he parked in his driveway, however, he felt his stomach drop when three other men surrounded the car. They were all armed with guns and wore identical smirks, which could be seen under the black ski masks they were wearing. One of them opened the door on Ziva's side and pulled her out brusquely. He received the same treatment.
He was shoved towards his door and ordered to open it, while another man held Ziva back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her struggling somewhat weakly against the man's grip until she received a sharp jab to her side, courtesy of a 9mm gun. As he fumbled to get his keys out of his pocket, he couldn't stop thinking that they would stand no chance against four armed men and that the fact that they seemed so well organised could mean nothing good for him and his partner.