Tony muttered under his breath as he stood in front of his apartment trying to open the damn door. If he was being honest, this wasn't the only time he'd not been able to open his door while drunk. The bar was close, and he met some of his buddies there to watch the game and drink before walking home, something that had happened many times this semester alone. Luckily, a few times ago, he'd figured out how to get in through the living room window. Thank God he lived on the first floor, or he'd really be screwed when these things inevitably happened.
He stumbled out of the building and went around to where his window was. There was a street light behind him, and when he squinted he could see the locking mechanism. Ah, perfect, he'd left it unlocked for himself! Tony: 1, Apartment, well, okay, Apartment: 1 because the door wouldn't open. He carefully removed the screen (last time he'd torn it apart in frustration) and set it on the ground next to him. Now all he had to do was lift up the window and climb in. But first, he really had to pee. Conveniently he was already standing in the bushes, so he unzipped his pants and did the deed. Alright. Now to defeat the window. He pressed his palms against the pane and pulled upwards. It was tough work, but once he got a little opening on the bottom he pulled it up like a normal window. Tony: 2, Apartment: 1! The game was over and now he could go celebrate! He pulled the blinds back and crawled through, somersaulting onto the floor and getting a crick in his neck.
He stood up, massaging his neck, and realized with a start that there was someone else in the room. A girl with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes stared at him over a book she had in her hands, one of her earbuds in her hand. Was this a prank? Did his buddies send a girl over for him to hook up with? He turned on the DiNozzo charm, and went to sit down in his usual chair. That was when he realized that his chair wasn't there. And that this wasn't his apartment. Tony: 2, Apartment: 1000.
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"Whaaaa?" the drunk guy stuttered, looking around her living room.
Ziva put down her book and popped her other earbud out of her ear. It was really quiet without the music blasting in her ears, and she was reminded of why she did that on these quiet nights. Although maybe she should change up her routine if random strangers were going to break in without her knowledge. "Can I help you?"
"I-" He turned to look at the window he presumably had just staggered through.
"You crawled through my window," she told him matter-of-factly, even though she was only guessing. But a glance at the door told her it was still locked, and he did not have enough wits to lock the door behind him.
"But...this was my apartment, how?"
Wow, this guy was on a roll. "Where do you live?" She paused. "Do you need to use the bathroom?" Drunk people always had to pee, right?
"Nah, I just went, uh, in the bushes." He had the decency to blush at this admission, and Ziva realized with a start that he was kind of cute, even in this disheveled state. "I live in Dewey complex, Apartment 12A. Where do you- where is this?" He pointed to the floor as if she would have misunderstood him.
"Dewey complex, Apartment 14A. Um, would you like me to, uh," she never finished her sentence, because he immediately ran to the bathroom. Well, ran-stumbled. He practically jogged, but he was tilting to the side, and then overcompensating by tilting to the other side. She guessed their apartments were set up the same way, since he knew exactly where to go. She patiently waited for him to return so she could finish her offer to walk him to his apartment, and then finish her book. Even though she was living by herself, she was still interrupted right at the good part!
And then, she heard the vomiting.
Ziva sighed and closed her book again. She stepped up to the bathroom door and called through, "Are you okay?" When all she got in response was more vomiting, she stepped into the bathroom cautiously. He was kneeling in front of the toilet puking right into the bowl. That was nice of him, she caught herself thinking, despite the fact that he had broken into her apartment and become sick almost immediately. He seemed to be taking care of himself, despite his almost constant vomiting, so she strode quickly to the couch to text her friend Abby.
Abby lived upstairs and loved to party. In fact, Ziva would almost place a bet on the fact that Abby knew this drunk boy. But the main point was that Abby knew how to take care of drunk people very well, and she would probably be excited for the opportunity to share her knowledge if she thought Ziva had actually gone out on a Saturday night.
It wasn't long before Abby responded, telling her:
Okay, make sure you hold her hair back when she barfs, make sure she drinks lots of water. Make sure she sleeps on her side so she doesn't choke on her vomit, and also put a garbage can in front of her in case she needs to hurl when she's laying down.
Ziva smiled at Abby's assumption that the drunk person she was taking care of was a girl, but didn't bother correcting her. She poured a big glass of water and went back to the bathroom. He was simply dry heaving now, and she ordered him to drink some of the water. All he did was rinse his mouth out and spit in the toilet.
"Are you done?" she asked, standing next to the toilet. He flushed it and stood up.
"Yeah, but now I gotta pee."
"Do not miss."
He chuckled at her completely serious statement, and she would've been angry if not for the smile he gave her. She shook her head, trying to clear it of thoughts about how cute he was, how deep his green eyes seemed. He was a drunk person who had broken into her apartment and interrupted her reading. He is not cute. He is not cute.
"Um, you can stay if you want," he said a little nervously.
"Oh!" She had completely forgotten where she was. "Drink more of that water," she called on her way out of the bathroom.
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She is gorgeous. Too bad he hurled in her bathroom. And was completely wasted. And crawled in her window. He finished peeing and downed the glass of water. It was cool and refreshing. He started to wonder if she had any food he could eat, but stopped himself. She was already very generous for not calling the police the second he stepped er, stumbled into her apartment.
He exited the bathroom, and saw that she had changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and she was holding out a pair of workout shorts for him to change into. "You are sleeping on the couch, I do not want you to vomit on yourself."
He immediately unzipped his pants and pulled them down, then remembered he was in the presence of a girl, specifically a girl he was not going to bang, no matter how pretty she was and how drunk he was (although he was feeling much more stable now, if he did say so himself). He looked up at her, and saw that she had politely averted her eyes, and her cheeks were a little pink. He quickly put on the gym shorts, and tapped her on the shoulder.
He started to smile graciously, but then her eyes connected with his, and his heart skipped a beat. She was even more beautiful up close.
Her eyes shifted away, uncomfortable. "Do you, um, do you need anything else? I have an extra toothbrush somewhere." She was gone before he could blink, and retrieved a new toothbrush in no time.
"Thanks," he said, sitting on the couch. "Do you possibly have any junk food I could eat? I'll buy you more, and it's okay if you don't."
"Yes, I have some potato chips." She went to the kitchen and poured a large bowl of the chips, bringing them back and sitting next to him. "Do you need more water?"
"Yeah, that would be great," Tony said, feeling bad that he was making her do all this work. "And, uh, thank you."
She nodded briskly, bringing him the water. "So, what happened? Why did you crawl through the window?"
He explained what happened, more embarrassed than anything else. He described the game, the drinking contest, and how he usually went in the window when he couldn't get in the door when he was really drunk. And how in this case, he broke into the apartment of a beautiful girl instead, and he was afraid he ruined her perfectly good evening.
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Ziva blushed, and told him it was just fine.
"I had to text my friend to find out how to take care of a drunk person, so now I have learned some real-world experience because of you."
He laughed and said, "Luckily for you, I've been drunk by myself many times, and I know pretty well how to take care of myself."
She rolled her eyes at him. As if he took good care of himself when he was drunk; he probably just went to bed and was hung over the next day. "Go to sleep. If you need me, I'll be in my bedroom, probably reading. "
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On her way in from her own partying an hour or so later, Abby stopped by Ziva's apartment. Ziva stepped out into the hall so as not to disturb the sleeping boy on her couch, and proceeded to tell Abby the whole story. It was all fine until Abby asked what his name was.
"Um..." Ziva looked anywhere except at her friend, and Abby's head seemed to follow her wherever her gaze went, trying to catch her eye.
"Um? You mean you don't know? What if you never see him again? What if he wakes up and climbs back out the window and doesn't let you know who he is?" Abby's voice rose steadily until she was almost shouting.
"Abby, you are going to wake him," Ziva hissed to her friend.
"I don't care if I do, you need to know his name and you need to kiss him! You and I both know you want to, Ziva."
"It does not matter whether I want to or not, I will probably not see him after tomorrow morning."
"Fine, if you insist, I'll leave you with mystery boy," Abby huffed. "But at least can I look at him? I want to see just how cute he is."
"Abby..." she replied warningly.
"Oh, come on, if he's awake then you'll be able to ask him what his name is, and if not, I get to see what he looks like, it's a win-win situation, Zee!"
Reluctantly Ziva opened the door so that the hall light illuminated the still-sleeping drunk boy's face. "Are you satisfied now?" she whispered. "I'm going to go to bed and I don't want to wake him."
"Yeah, I'm satisfied," she said with a grin on her face. "Keep me updated, okay?"
They said goodbye, and Ziva was headed back to her bedroom when the boy spoke.
"You can tell Abby my name's Tony."
Ziva's breath hitched in her throat. So he had heard the whole thing.
"How are you feeling?" She desperately hoped he would accept the change in subject.
He sat up and turned to look at her. "I've been better." He shrugged. "I've been worse."
"Can I get you anything? More water? Tylenol? Abby said-"
"No, I'm fine, Zee-?" He left it open-ended for her to fill in the rest of her name. She could see him smiling up at her, waiting. Well, he'd just have to wait longer.
"Why do you want to know my name?" It wasn't that she had anything against telling Tony her name, but she was curious. She wasn't the type of girl who got asked out much, and she couldn't comprehend that this guy wanted to get to know her.
It appeared that he was struggling with the question as well. He paused, then his face broke out into a charming smile and he said, "How else am I going to tell the complete tale of this whole fiasco to my friends?"
She rolled her eyes, but stepped forward and shook his hand. "My name is Ziva David."
"Well Ziva David, I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future, if I may be so bold."
"You have already been 'so bold'," she replied pointedly, but allowed herself to smile at his comment.
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It wasn't long after she was in her apartment that Abby received two texts almost simultaneously. One read: His name is Tony.
The other read: ziva is soooooo cute. be my wingwoman?
She smiled to herself. Finally!
The End