Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
Rating: T (no language, nothing explicit, but this is a TIVA fic, so....)
Chapter One: What were you thinking, DiNozzo?
Tony didn't quite know how he reached this point. He wasn't even sure if it had been her idea or his. One thing he did know, however, was that the boss was going to have his head. Nevertheless, their actions could not be undone and here they were–in a seedy hotel adjoining a seedier wedding chapel.
"This point" had begun with a simple surveillance assignment: follow Petty Officer Andrews, get enough for a warrant, and avoid being seen. Ziva's reply had been "piece of pie," giving Tony the distinct pleasure of pouncing on her for slaughtering yet another idiom.
Gibbs was hoping they would be able to photography Andrews meeting with another suspect, a suspect he'd said he'd never heard of. All had gone well. The team had shared some friendly banter; or annoying banter if one looked from Ziva's point of view. They'd also spent most of their day photographing Andrews from their rental car. They never should've gotten out of the car, and both of them knew it. Tony had been gracious enough to accept blame for that poor choice.
Dusk had fallen and for the first time in two days, Tony and Ziva had lost sight of their suspect. Ziva had thought she'd heard a gunshot and had raced into the wedding chapel gun drawn. Tony would never let her live down her mistaking a champagne cork exploding for gunfire–she, the ninja Mossad Agent from Israel. He'd loved her embarrassment, but she'd almost blown their cover. Luckily, she'd holstered her gun before the gruff older woman had rounded the corner and demanded, "Two hundred. Cash or credit. No checks."
Tony had protested and they might have pretended to change their minds, or have a fun lover's spat had Ziva not seen Andrews pass through the hallway near the rear of the main room. Ziva had silenced him with a forceful kiss. He liked it.
Ignoring the goofy grin on his face, Ziva had asked, "You take Visa, yes?"
They'd filled out the papers, keeping an eye out for Andrews. They had continued to watch for him all through the ceremony, so much so that when the moonlighting minister had told Tony to kiss the bride, he'd had to repeat himself twice. That's when they'd realized the gravity of what they had done. They'd been so absorbed with finding their suspect that they'd unintentionally gone through the entire ceremony.
It turned out that the wedding fee included a honeymoon suite in the adjacent hotel. Tony had quipped that they'd might as well get their money's worth. The room, though nonsmoking, had a horrid stench. Clearly housekeeping had not cleaned the place properly in over a decade.
Now Tony, the perpetual bachelor, was married and sitting on a bed in a dingy motel. All he could do was stare at the shag carpeting. The night hadn't been a total loss. Not the way he'd have spent his real wedding night, but not a loss. They'd snuck out around two a.m. and had managed to photograph Andrews meeting with the other suspect.
The photographs could mean the different between Gibbs murdering them or him just beating them within an inch of their lives. What worried Tony, though slightly less than thoughts of Gibbs' reaction, was Ziva's reaction. Since the preacher had pronounced them man and wife, Ziva hadn't uttered a single word to him.
Once in the car, she just stared out the window, apparently lost in thought.
"Whatcha thinkin', Zee-vah?" He grinned as he pulled the rental onto the interstate.
"We're married, Tony." Her voice was flat.
Tony felt a twinge of disappointment. He couldn't explain it. After all, it had all been in the line of duty. His laugh was a little forced when he replied, "Not for long. The boss'll kill us, McGeek will have his moment, and all of this will disappear. Annulment baby!"
Her reaction signaled he'd said the wrong thing.
Ziva was uncertain. Her emotions were a mixed up jumble. Divorce was a disgrace to her family. She had no delusions–her family would eventually find out. It wasn't as if she'd ever intended to marry Tony, much less stay married to him, yet his reaction bothered her. He was being so flippant about it, as if he wanted to get things cleared up so he could hurry back to his bachelor ways.
"No worries, Tony," she forced out, "We'll sign a few papers and you'll be back to knocking girls in no time."
"Banging, Ziva. The word is banging."
Ziva didn't answer. She was staring out the window again, and he couldn't understand why he cared.
The phone rang. "DiNozzo here."
"You're late DiNozzo. You were supposed to be back by 0900."
"Yeah, uh–sorry boss. We're working on it."
"Don't work on it, just get here."
"Boss, technically your orders contradict--"
Ziva smirked, "He hung up on you again, did he not?"
Tony glared.
Tony had a fleeting thought that with some work he could hide this new development from Gibbs. They hadn't been in the squad room for two minutes when Gibbs proved him wrong.
"DiNozzo. David. Would you care to tell me how and why my Senior Special Agent and my liaison officer got married last night and shacked up together?"
"Whoa boss! We didn't break rule number twelve!"
"Right. So who's bright idea was this?"
"Ziva's."
"Mine. We were so busy surveilling the suspect that we got a little carried off."
Gibb's glared silenced Tony's laugh before it could surface. "You think, David? What are you two going to do?"
"We will probably get it annulled" came Ziva's emotionless reply.
Gibbs locked eyes with DiNozzo.
"On it boss!"
"Wait DiNozzo, I'm not through with you. David, I need a warrant to search Andrew's apartment, assuming you did accomplish something on this trip." Gibb's face was inches from Tony's before he continued, "What were you thinking, DiNozzo?"
A head slap jarred Tony's brain. Clearly Gibbs was finished with him for now.
More to come!