Dirty Dancing AU. The David family takes a trip to a resort where Tony is employed as a dance instructor. Tensions build when Tony and Ziva meet and begin to dance together. Loosely follows Dirty Dancing with some significant deviations.

As this is purely AU, there is no NCIS. Tony and Ziva are probably around the age that they would have been in Season 3, perhaps a few years younger than that, even. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Got You in my Sights

Music that could only be classified as "oldies" crackled through the radio as Eli David turned the rented luxury car onto a back road, the surrounding mountains causing the reception to fade in and out, and both the static and the choice of music irritated Ziva to no end.

"Can you please turn that off?" she grumbled from the backseat, casting a sideways glance at Tali, who had been asleep for the past several hours. Ziva rolled her eyes at her sister, who would be unable to come to her defense that the music was absolutely terrible.

"Why?" her mother asked in heavily accented English, turning her head toward the backseat. Eli had insisted that the whole family would speak English for the duration of the trip, even when not interacting with any Americans, so that Ziva's English would become perfect and better her chances for future employment. Eli had explained that Americans were often only welcoming of immigrants who "made an effort" with the language. Ziva thought her English was quite proficient, but there was no arguing with her father, so they'd started speaking the foreign tongue as soon as their plane had landed in New York.

"Because the … fuzz. It is aggravating!" A long sigh dragged from her chest as she leaned her head against the window of the car, trying to think of anything that might drown out the annoyance. Eli glared at her through the rearview mirror, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. He reached for the dial and turned it off, and Ziva smiled slightly to herself. Small victories were all she could manage to get from her father these days. Shifting her gaze over to her sleeping sister, her mood again turned sour at the reminder that Tali was the favored one now, even though Ziva was the one slated to follow in her father's footsteps. Rejecting Michael's proposal had turned her father hostile toward her, but Ziva refused to marry someone she didn't love, no matter how much her father had pushed her toward him.

"Oh look, how lovely," murmured Rivka from the front seat as they turned toward the resort, sweeping mountain views the backdrop to what appeared to be a diamond in the rough. The signage welcomed them to Vandenberg's Mountain Resort, and Ziva couldn't help but take in the surroundings with awe, for the views from the entrance alone were absolutely stunning.

The complex looked to be absolutely huge, which suited Ziva just fine. Although her family would be leaving her in the States after the summer was over, that seemed like an eternity from now and the endless array of complexes and attractions would make it easy to avoid her father's wrath. "Tali, wake up," she insisted, nudging her sister perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. She and Tali were close, but they were not without their share of the typical sibling squabbles.

"Why?" the girl yawned in Hebrew, forgetting her father's edict in her sleepy state. Tali sat up, slowly, blinking a few times before opening her eyes wide enough to see that they'd arrived. "Wow," she murmured, the only English word she could think of to describe what she was seeing.

Although Ziva had originally intended to act blasé about the vacation, she couldn't help but agree with her sister's assessment. This place was gorgeous, and as they pulled around and into the lobby area, she couldn't wait to get out and explore the grounds.

After just a few minutes, during which Eli signed a few papers and handed over his credit card, they were stepping back into their car for the drive to their guest house. "Mr. Vandenberg is busy at a meeting right now, Mr. David," the attendant pronounced the family name wrong, "but he has left specific instructions that you be shown to his finest guest house." Ziva was annoyed that her father didn't bother to correct the man. I would have, she thought, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

But her father apparently knew the owner of the resort, Ziva surmised. She wondered, not for the first time, if there was anywhere she could go where her father would not know someone.

It wasn't long until they pulled up to where they'd be staying – a large villa with huge front-facing windows and clean, white lines. It was the last building in a long row of buildings, and from all appearances, the biggest. She wondered what it must cost to stay here, but after hearing that her father knew the owner, she doubted that he was paying the full rate, even though they could surely afford it.

They exited the car and stepped inside the house, into a grand foyer with vaulted ceilings. Tali spoke first, for the second time able to express the only word in English she could muster: "Wow." Again, Ziva agreed with her sister's assessment. There were no words better suited for what she was seeing.

"Each of us has a key," her father started, handing out key rings to each member of the family, adding, "keep it with you at all times." Ziva wasted no time in snatching the key from her father's hands and stepping back outside to grab her bags, eager to settle in and find her own space in the guest house.

She finally settled on a room toward the back of the house, a room that had a sliding glass door opening to a patio that spanned the entire length of the back of the house. Each bedroom had its own bathroom, and Ziva was certain that after some days spent taking long walks with Tali, playing some friendly sports, and even just laying out in the sun, the huge jacuzzi bathtub would be heaven on earth.

"I am going for a walk," she yelled down the hallway, and made her way to the door before anyone could stop her. They had been cooped up in the car for the last three hours, and she needed to get out and get away from her family for a while. She closed and locked the door behind her, taking a moment to suck in a huge sigh of relief. Freedom.

Perhaps this family vacation wouldn't be all that bad.

"You know, I shouldn't have let you come back here," Mr. Vandenberg started, leaning against the doorway of the dance studio, blocking the exit, "not after that stunt you and your partner over there pulled last summer."

Tony sighed, reaching for a nearby towel and wiping the sweat from his brow. "That wasn't even our fault," he protested, but decided not to continue when Vandenberg narrowed his eyes at him. He still needed this job, and he couldn't be antagonizing the boss.

"I could tell you to pack your bags right now," he threatened, biting down on a toothpick. "You too, missy," he added, nodding toward Mandy, who was seated on the floor and stretching her legs. "I don't need to have a dance program here."

Tony glanced over his shoulder at his partner, his only childhood friend remaining after he'd left his father's business to pursue his own dreams. Slowly, the friends he'd had as a child disappeared, leaving him certain they'd only been friendly to get a piece of his family's fortune.

He didn't miss that life.

Vandenberg was still going, rattling off a list of rules and regulations he and Mandy would be expected to follow. They were the same rules every summer, but the boss felt it necessary to keep repeating them, as if anyone could ever forget them. "And another thing, you keep your hands off of the daughters. Don't think I don't know about your exploits with all the married women who come up here."

"Is that against the rules now, too?" he asked sarcastically, raising his eyebrows and testing his boundaries. Tony had worked here for eight summers, and each year it was exactly the same. If Vandenberg even knew who his father was – not that he'd believe it, of course – well, that would change the way he was treated. He certainly wouldn't be treated like he was a pile of dog shit in someone's well-manicured yard.

"They pay me well and I won't alienate their business," replied the boss threateningly, adding, "as long as there aren't any scenes. I've been the top resort in the region for the past two decades, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you ruin my reputation."

"I have always been discreet, Mr. Vandenberg. Jealous husbands aren't really my thing." Tony reached down and took a swig from his water bottle, taking a few big gulps before setting it down and wiping his mouth, adding, "Is there anything else?"

Vandenberg narrowed his eyes. "I'll have my eye on you, DiNozzo," was the only answer, and he backed from the doorway, shutting it behind him and walking away.

Tony let out an aggravated sigh. He hated this place, if he was being honest, but he needed the job, and the resort's proximity to New York was its main draw. He turned to Mandy, reaching his hand down to help her up off the ground.

"Where were we?" He asked, attempting to regain his train of thought on where their choreography was going before the interruption.

Mandy ignored the question, admonishing him instead. "You know you really shouldn't egg him on like that." She looked at him directly, what he liked to refer to as her 'take no bullshit' look, a look she'd perfected as his surrogate sister, the only thing resembling a family in his life.

"He doesn't scare me," was the casual response. He crossed the room to hit the music, so that they could run what they had of their number before attempting to add to it. The choreography so far was solid, but the dance was still incomplete.

"Maybe so," she said over the intro, taking her first two steps toward him, a predatory move characteristic of the style of dance, "but he can still fire us." Tony reached out his hand and Mandy took it right on the beat, spinning into him and into the closed position, where they would move in perfect sync. Quick feet moved in staccato with the music, toes and heels tapping the ground in an intricate series of movements. Tony confidently led his partner around the floor, spinning her expertly into a lift before lowering her back into his arms.

"I like this," he said, panting slightly from the exertion, "but we need a better transition out of that lift." He stepped back to pause the music, biting his lip and concentrating on possible movement solutions.

"It's that change in the music," Mandy agreed, crossing one arm around her torso and the other propped against her chin in thought, tapping her toes absentmindedly.

"Exactly. We need something better than what we have. This audition is the most important one I've ever had. It has to be amazing." Mandy could sense his desperation. She knew how Tony felt about coming to work for Vandenberg every summer – he hated it. And if he could land this audition, he could quit this place forever and never be treated like the scum of the earth again.

"Maybe we should try-" she was interrupted by the sound of the studio door slamming. Tony startled for a moment, thinking it was Vandenberg again, who would surely fire him for talking about auditions, but it was just Tim, another resort employee and one of Tony's closest friends, aside from Mandy.

"Hey guys, what are you working on?" Tim always seemed curious about their acts, but Tony knew that Tim didn't know anything about dance at all, and he'd rather not bore the guy to tears with technical dance terminology. Strangely enough, Tim didn't seem to grasp this concept himself, once he got himself started on the topic of comic books.

"Just a show piece, Timbo. Good to see ya," Tony replied, crossing to give the younger man a handshake before stepping back and letting Mandy give him a hug.

"Well I'm sure it'll be great," came the response. "Ah, anyway, I came up here to let you know they're having a staff party in the back lodge tonight, if you'd wanna come down and blow off some steam." Tony smiled. Tim was the only person in this godforsaken resort who would come invite the "Dance People," as they were often unkindly called, even though most of the employees had nothing in particular against them. More often than not, they were just forgotten until the resort needed some entertainment.

"We'll be there for sure," Mandy confirmed, a smile spreading across her face. Tony's brow was furrowed, but she knew that he could use a night off from the constant worrying over their dance. The audition was still a month away, and they'd have plenty of time to perfect it by then.

"Awesome," Tim replied. "Hey did you hear about the new Hulk that's coming out next month? They say he's going to-"

Tony cut him off. "Tim."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Don't really care," he joked, patting his friend on the shoulder. "We've got a lot of work to do, Tim-a-roo, we'll see you tonight?" Mandy was already crossing the room to reset the music, and Tim took that as his cue to leave, nodding as he turned from the studio and left.

"You don't have to be so rude to him," Mandy said as she started the music.

"Mandy?"

"Yes?" she challenged, starting her choreographed steps toward him.

"Shut it," he responded, reaching his hand out and pulling her into the dance.

The pool was absolutely gorgeous, even after the sun went down. Families of all ages sat around it, some dipping into the water for a night swim, and others relaxing and carrying on together. Ziva lay next to Tali on a lounge chair on the deck, poring over one of her favorite novels in the tiki-torchlight. Tali, however, was not particularly attentive to her sister's desire to read.

"Look at that one, Ziva, in the green shorts," her sister whispered loudly in Hebrew. Ziva was in no mood to scope out the scene with her boy-crazy sister.

"Papa said we are to use English," Ziva snapped as she looked up from her novel. "Besides, I am trying to read. Can you not find something else to do? Something that does not involve hassling me?" She pushed her hair behind her ear and turned back to her book.

Tali rolled her eyes and snatched the book from her, placing it face down on a nearby table. "Just look," she implored, turning Ziva in the direction of this boy that had caught her eye. He wasn't altogether unattractive, Ziva surmised, but he looked too much like Michael for her liking.

"Okay, I see him. Hand me back my book, please."

"No. He is pretty, is he not?" She asked, and Ziva smirked at her sister's word choice. Tali's English was definitely far from perfect, and Ziva derived no small pleasure from hearing her sister mess it up.

"Sure, Tali. Why do you not go tell him in person instead of bothering me?" She reached to the table and grabbed her book, grateful to find that her sister had not lost her page. She thought about sitting back down and resuming where she left off, but her sister was already making a move to reach for her book again.

"You know what," Ziva started, holding her book to her chest, "I am going to go back to the house. You are driving me crazy." She turned around and started to walk back toward their house, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that Tali was not following her. Good, she thought, Tali can go find a boy to play with and I can enjoy some peace and quiet.

It didn't take long for Ziva return to the house and settle down on her bed before growing restless, wanting to get out of the room. If only Tali had not wanted to bother her so much, she would still be reading at the side of the pool. Sitting up, she placed a bookmark between the well-worn pages of the book and laid it on the night table before getting up and crossing to her suitcase. She quickly changed out of her bathing suit and into a tank top with some capris, then slipped into her sandals and headed out the door. She wasn't sure where she actually wanted to go, but she didn't want to stay in the room all night when the mountain air was so fresh.

Slowly, she started meandering down the path she had walked earlier, taking in the sounds of the evening air around her. The path was well-lit and she felt completely at ease as the crickets chirped, a sound she was unaccustomed to ever since they'd moved from their country home in Israel to the city. The sound reminded her of home, something she missed but only bitterly, since so much of her childhood had been nothing but a series of not living up to expectations.

Michael had been completely wrong for her, and while she'd given her father the benefit of the doubt and gone out with him, the thought of feeling his hands on her again made her feel physically sick to her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around her midsection protectively as she turned right down a fork in the path.

"I only want to please him," she murmured under her breath, thinking of her father, Dr. Eli David, the stone-faced surgeon who had developed a new procedure that made him practically the king of Israeli medicine, and one of the most renowned doctors internationally. Ziva was poised to attend medical school in the fall, but entering the family business was not enough for her father. She was expected to follow his orders. Only at her mother's interference was she saved from being disowned entirely, though she wondered almost daily if that would have been so terrible.

Looking up from the path for a moment, Ziva could make out a large building in the distance, bright lights filtering through large windows, and forms moving to music she could not make out. She wasn't sure whose party this was, but it was just the thing to take her mind off of her family.

She picked up her pace, walking quickly in the direction of the party when she came across a college-aged man trying – unsuccessfully – to carry three watermelons in the direction of the party. Why on earth did he not ask someone for help? "Do you need some help with that?" She asked tentatively, startling the man and causing him to nearly drop one of the melons, which she deftly leaned over to catch before it could smash on the ground.

"Sorry. You uh, you startled me," the man answered, then added, "Um, I mean … thanks." He was easily flustered, she noticed, and she did her best to put his mind at ease as he started walking toward the party again.

"You are welcome," she answered. "I am curious, though. Why was this party not in the … the … oh what is the word … itinerary … for this weekend?"

"It's, uh, a staff party, one you shouldn't even know about, actually. You should … you should probably not be back here."

"Suit yourself," came the response, and Ziva stepped toward him and started to lift the watermelon up so as to place it back into his arms.

"Uh, actually …" he trailed off, taking just a second to consider whether carrying three watermelons at a time was really a smart plan. "Come on. But don't tell anybody. I'm Tim, by the way." He started walking toward the building quickly, like he was terrified of getting caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, and she followed behind him.

"Ziva," came the response, and she smiled. This guy was quite nice, she surmised, in a dorky kind of way. She hoped that all of the staff would be this nice to her when she made her entrance into this party she apparently wasn't even supposed to know about.

"I, uh … nice to meet you, Ziva," Tim responded, and she knew without him saying so that he was wondering about her accent.

"Israeli," she replied to his unasked question, but got no response. They walked the rest of the path to the building in silence. They reached the door in no time, and Tim kicked it open, walking along the outskirts and toward a back room where all of the party supplies were, and Ziva followed, depositing her watermelon next to the other two that Tim had brought. No one seemed to pay her any attention, and she turned around and watched the merrymaking unfold. People were dancing to a popular song, one of the songs that her parents absolutely could not stand. She smiled when she thought of her parents and their reactions if they found out she was here.

Two people in the center of the room caught her eye, a tall, leggy blonde with towering heels on, and a roguish but attractive man with a white button-down shirt unbuttoned halfway, baring his chest hair and oozing raw sexuality. They were dancing together, and they looked like professionals. Ziva watched as the pair ground their hips together, and the blonde would kick her legs around the man's, then twirl around him, her blue skirt billowing around as she spun. She looked on with awe, and Tim joined her, noting her admiration. "They're so talented, aren't they?" he asked, interrupting her silent appreciation.

She turned toward him after a moment, finding it hard to tear her eyes away, replying, "They are amazing. How long have they been together?"

"They're not. Uh, I mean they have been partners for years. But not dating." Ziva couldn't help but noticing how Tim blushed all the time. He was so easily embarrassed.

"They fit together, yes?" She asked, nodding toward them. She couldn't believe the two were not a couple, because they looked so into each other.

"Like brother and sister." Ziva cocked her head to the side, appreciating what she was seeing. The man dipped his partner, and her head fell back as he spun her slowly in a circle before pulling her up toward him again, his muscles flexing at the movement. They were spectacular, and no one but she and Tim seemed to be paying them any mind.

She continued to watch them – okay, him, she admitted to herself – unable to close her mouth as she looked on with admiration. They spun around together a few times, and he caught her eye for just a second, long enough for Ziva to realize she'd been caught staring and look away. The song ended, and everyone in the room began to clap and cheer. Ziva turned her head and realized that Tim had disappeared, furrowing her brow as she surveyed the room.

"What are you doing here, aren't you a guest?" The voice broke her concentration and she snapped her head toward the direction of the sound only to see the man from the dancing duo standing in front of her.

"I carried a cantamelon," she responded lamely, his eyes widening as he heard her slight accent. He erupted into laughter, a full and boisterous sound, and she almost would have joined him if not for the fact that he was laughing at her!

"Cantamelon? Don't you mean watermelon?" He teased, and she felt her face go hot. Yes, of course, she thought, groaning inwardly. I carried a cantamelon. Oh, no. Cantaloupe, watermelon, she mentally catalogued.

"It is the English. Did you come over here just to accuse me of being a guest and mock my English, or did you have some other purpose for approaching me?" She felt herself becoming agitated at this handsome stranger, and she had no idea why. He unnerved her somehow, and it wasn't often that she was thrown off by men, even the good looking ones.

"I saw you checking me out," he declared, his eyes lighting up flirtatiously as he gauged her reaction.

"I certainly was not," she denied quickly, her face scrunching up in frustration. This man, as attractive as he was, absolutely infuriated her.

"Yeah you were. You're only human. You just can't resist the DiNozzo charm," he said, a cocky smile spreading across his face. Oh, she thought, he has a great smile.

"What kind of name is DiNozzo?" She asked indignantly, not willing to let him see her flustered.

"Italian. Last name. We DiNozzo men, we exude a certain charm." He shrugged, as if he didn't understand it. Ziva ignored his comment about charm, opting to focus on his name instead. None of his charm was going to work on her.

Standing up straight and authoritatively, the way her mother had taught her to, she asked, "And do you have a first name?" There was some bite to her tone, and she smirked inwardly as he seemed momentarily taken aback by it.

"Excuse you?"

"I said, do you have a first name, or am I supposed to call you by your last name like some sort of … servant?" He was definitely shocked now, and Ziva reveled in her small victory, somehow managing to unnerve this man who had seemed so sure of himself just a moment ago. She assumed he wasn't used to petite women at least ten years his junior being so firm with him.

"I have a first name. But I think you need to earn it from me, princess," he spat out condescendingly.

"I am no princess," she seethed, venom accompanying her every word.

"Really? Affluent young woman with an accent – Israeli, maybe? Comes to America with her family for the summer, and proceeds to look down on everyone and everything she sees, including me. Sounds like a princess to me." She had been trying to deliberately bait him by acting like a snob, and he was having absolutely none of it.

"You are disgusting." She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear and looked up toward him, his eyes challenging her as he stepped closer to her.

"You still can't resist me though," he supplied, daring her to back away. She stood her ground, and he stepped even closer.

"Excuse me?" She had to admit to herself, she was extremely attracted to this American stranger, but she was determined not to back down or admit any type of defeat. She'd spent her whole life being around men who had tried to control her, and she certainly wasn't going to let this one be another.

"Look, sweetcheeks, I saw you checking me out from across the room. I saw you looking at my hips as I was dancing with my partner over there. Why don't you come on over here, I'll show you how to dance with me. You know, grinding?" He paused and reached to grab her arm. She looked down at the connection, noting the way her skin tingled where he touched her. "I'm just asking for a dance, then you can go back to your ivory tower. Think you can handle that?"

She said nothing, still looking at his hand wrapped around her arm, having no idea how to respond. She should say no, and get the hell out of this party, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

"C'mere," he said, and pulled her by the arm until she collided against him, her head fitting directly under his chin. A new song started to play, a slower song with a slightly funky beat, and he started to sway to the music, pulling her along with him.

"Move your feet apart a little," he guided, and she listened, allowing him to slide his knee between her own, feeling him pull her by the waist so he could grind against her. She started to groove along with the music, moving her hips in time with his. She hadn't known what to do with her arms at first, but she finally settled them on his arms, grasping him tightly as he dipped her slightly, her curls falling behind her head, and she laughed with delight, to her surprise. She was having fun.

Strong arms lifted her back up toward him, and she caught his gaze as they continued to grind on each other. Ziva's breath caught in her throat as she realized how much this dance was affecting her, and she didn't object when she felt his hands roaming her hips, instead choosing to roll toward his grasp. She was incredibly turned on, and from the look on his face, this "DiNozzo" was also affected by her.

"That's it," he murmured, slipping into his role as the dance teacher, praising her for being such a quick study. She was beautiful, and young, and he'd be lying if he said that hearing her repeat his last name with her sultry accent didn't do anything for him. Messing with the guests was frowned upon, as Vandenberg had reminded him not even a few hours ago, but Tony really didn't care much for following the rules. It was all about not getting caught.

Ziva smirked as DiNozzo made to dip her again, enjoying the flirtatiousness of this type of dancing. She had never danced like this before, but even if she had, she doubted it would have the same effect without her present company. He slowly pulled her back up, leaning his face down toward her, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. His eyes locked with hers and her lips parted, anticipating him closing the final distance. She inched closer to him, and the song ended. He leaned forward just a little bit more, until she could practically taste his breath, when he pulled away, reluctantly letting her go.

"Got a name, sweetcheeks?" He asked, breaking her from her trance.

She was frustrated, more at herself for wanting him to kiss her than she was at him for backing away, and she almost didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Something about him, though, changed her mind, and she decided to throw him a bone. "Ziva," was all she gave him.

"Well, princess Ziva," he nodded his head mockingly, as if to bow to royalty, "thanks for the dance." And he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in his wake, infuriated at his arrogance.

Worse, though, was just how hot and bothered he had left her.

Special shoutout to Maya, without whom this idea would have never existed in the first place.

Look out for Chapter 2 on Tuesday!