It was raining and I like the rain and I was thinking about good things that come out of the rain. Another story I wrote on the bus. I think I spend too much time on the bus.

To be fair, only the first part was written on the bus, but I had the idea for the whole thing on the bus.

Singing in the Rain

"Agh!" Ziva's cry of frustration was loud enough to be heard in a ten mile radius, so it was no surprise when Tony waltzed over, grinning from ear to ear, no doubt thinking of some funny comment to make. "Whatever you are about to say, DiNozzo, I suggest you shut it right now before I stop taking my anger out on this wheel and start taking it out on you!" She continued to kick the rubber tyre of her red Mini's wheel.

"Actually, I was going to offer you a lift home."

"Well, I do not need a lift." She huffed.

"Then how're you gonna get home?"

"I will walk."

"It's a long way, Ziva."

"I have walked further."

"It's raining."

"Then I shall run!" She snapped.

"Why won't you accept a lift from me?"

"Because…because…" She couldn't think of a reason, other than that she wanted to go home and have a bath and try and keep her mind away from the man standing in front of her.

"See, come on." He picked her bag up and slung it on his shoulder opposite to the one that his was sat on. He opened the boot of his Mustang and placed the two backpacks in, smiling when she continued to pout from where she stood two cars down. "If you're worried about me doing something inappropriate, then I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not."

"Ha." She snorted, but walked over to the passenger door and narrowed her eyes at him over the top of the canvas roof.

"Hey! I can be a gentleman!"

"I shall believe this when I see it." She shook her head, a smirk clear on her lips. She knew he could be a gentleman, on the odd occasion when he let his caveman façade down. Like the time she had accompanied him to dinner when his date – Monica, was it? – had turned out to be married. Or when they were undercover together. Behind all the jokes, he had been a gentleman, constantly checking that she was okay, and that he wasn't hurting her in any way or making her feel uncomfortable. Her teasing expression faded to a much more subtle smile and she nodded gently, letting him know that she trusted him as she climbed into his car. He pulled out of the parking structure and Abby grinned to herself, wiping her oily hands on a piece of rag cloth hanging from her tool belt. She walked over to the red Mini and opened the bonnet, pulling the spark plugs out of the pocket of her red NCIS overalls.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…" Tony slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel as his Mustang ground to a holt. He was going to kill Abby when he saw her. He had told her to mess with Ziva's car, not his too. He had just wanted an excuse to give her a lift home.

"Tony, please do not tell me that your car has just broken down."

"Uh, okay…" He sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me. How can both of our cars break down on the same night?"

"I…don't know." He shrugged and looked away.

"You had something to do with it, yes?"

"Whoa, now, why is it all of a sudden my fault? I can't help it if my car breaks down."

"Then why do you look so guilty?"

"Because I always look guilty about something?" He suggested, wincing when she smacked his shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That was for convincing me to take a lift with you. And for not checking your fuel gauge." She pointed to the dial on the dash. It read below empty. He groaned. He had been so distracted by her that he had completely ignored the warning signs.

"No! My baby hates it when I run her on no fuel!" He whimpered and started caressing the steering wheel. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I won't ever do it again."

"Tony, as much as your love for your car is endearing and a little more than slightly disturbing, I want to go home."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ziva, but unless you want to walk you'll just have to wait until I can get someone to come out with fuel." He glared at her.

"Then I shall walk. That is what I was going to have done anyway, were it not for your stupid offer and your stupid car!" She climbed out into the torrential downpour and started jogging in the direction of her apartment. Tony groaned and slammed his fist against the window before climbing out and chasing after her.

"Ziva, wait! Ziva!" She was soaked from head to toe by the time he caught up to her and she looked furious.

"What, Tony? What do you want?" She sounded resigned, like she had given up all hope.

"To make you smile."

"Tony, I am not in the mood for riddles."

"It's a mile to your apartment still. You have not smiled once since we stepped out of the elevator to go home."

"So you want to make me smile." She sighed and started walking away.

"Yeah, and I'm not going to leave you until you smile." He walked next to her, wiping the water off of his face, only for it to be replaced seconds later. He followed her as she ignored him, wondering how far into their long walk she would finally crack.

Their laughter filled the dark night as they rounded the corner onto Ziva's street at a jog. He wasn't really certain how the came of tag had started, but he was certain that it had filled his brief to make her smile. She was walking backwards, still facing him, as they drew closer to the doors to her apartment block, a smile wide on her face. The rain still hammered down around them, but neither noticed as they stopped under a streetlamp, both completely absorbed in the others eyes. They both stepped closer to one another, haloed by the yellow light of the sodium-vapour lamp. Smiles faded to serious expressions as he brushed her wet hair out of the way and cupped her face with his hand. He leaned down, hesitating slightly, before capturing her lips with his own. They moved softly together, a contrast to the hard rain that pelted them from all angles. But they didn't mind the wet or the cold, they barely even registered it. All they knew and all they needed was in their arms. Tony had his world; Ziva had her life. Neither knew how much the other needed it, but they both knew that they themselves wanted it more than anything, and sensible, reasoning thought be damned, they were going to indulge themselves, even if it was just this once. God knew they deserved it. Tony deepened the kiss, pressing one hand against the small of her back and moving the other to cradle the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. She was bent backwards slightly as they each fought hungrily for control, her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging in slightly. "God, you're beautiful." Tony mumbled, fishing for the keys to her apartment in the back pocket of her jeans as she nibbled on his ear.

"Other pocket." She whispered, knowing that she was not patient enough to wait for him any longer. They stumbled back towards the door, keeping contact with one another at all times, and Ziva, with her back pressed against the glass door and her front pressed against Tony's solid body, typed in the code for the building. She had to type it in three times before getting it right, since she was doing it only by touch and was a little preoccupied. "Elevator." She pushed him towards the metal carriage, for the first time in her tenancy using the lift to take her to the top floor instead of taking the stairs. Their lips scarcely left one another's for the entire journey, only breaking apart for oxygen. The elevator dinged and the metal doors slid open. They staggered out and managed to find their way to her door. She fumbled with her key, trying and failing to unlock her door as Tony pressed kisses to the back of her neck. "Tony. Stop. Please." She laughed breathlessly.

"Nope." He grinned. He was relentless. Their laughs grew louder as he continued, causing her elderly neighbour to open the door.

"Ziva, my dear, what is going on out…oh." The woman's eyes widened as the couple were successful in opening the door. Ziva twisted in Tony's arms so she was back to facing him as he pressed his lips to her collar bone.

"Sorry Mrs Garibaldi!" She called, laugher in her voice as she reattached her lips to Tony's.

"Yeah, sorry Mrs G.!" Tony waved a hand and closed the door behind him, not noticing the smile on the older woman's face or hearing her mutter 'Glad you've found each other finally' as they started to pull their sopping clothes off, discarding them in a trail leading to the bedroom.

Tomorrow morning was going to be difficult to say the least, but the obvious solution to that was to sleep past lunch.

Or stay in bed until then, at the least.

For my reference: 23rd NCIS fic.