Title: Slathered in Grease
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothinnng!
Summary: Tony loves Grease, but he just won't say anything to anyone about it. That doesn't stop the movie from invading his dreams, and he certainly does not mind the image it gives him.
Pairing: Tony/Ziva
Rating: PG-13
AN: My apologies to anyone who may still be reading my stories. The leave of absence I did was unexpected, but not unnecessary. A lot went down, and I'm still kind of getting sorted out over it. But two jobs is all I am doing now, I am on a break from school so perhaps I'll get some things finished up!
Dedicated: To my Jes! And any people who might still want to read some of my stuff... that select few. Jes I think you're the only one.
Word Count: 2426
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Slow work days were one of the many things that caused Tony's head to spin while he searched for any source of entertainment to distract him from the mundane processing of paperwork. Usually he was able to tell a slow day upon entering the building, the taste of the air usually gave it away. That was why when Ziva strolled into the office humming "Summer Lovin'" beneath her breathe Tony perked up to the point of sitting straighter in his chair, and actually focusing his gaze on something rather than settling in a blurry haze of boredom.
It wasn't something that he would readily admit to anyone, not even if he was facing down torture; but the truth of the matter was Anthony D. DiNozzo had an unnatural appreciation of the 1978 classic, Grease. As a movie buff the idea of liking the movie didn't sound like an all together bad thing, but he was a DiNozzo, and DiNozzo's were known for their avid disinterest in all things Musicals. There were exceptions to all rules of course, and Grease just so happened to be Tony's exception. Though, he still wouldn't admit that to anyone.
For the rest of the day the songs he knew so well played through his mind on a loop, and he had to fight to keep from belting out the power-house lines that could only rightfully be sung at the top of a person's lungs. "Go Grease lightning" just didn't seem properly annotated inside of Tony's head, and "You're the one that I want" wasn't the same without hand motions and overly done vibrato. Keeping the much loved lyrics inside of him was a lot more effort than he remembered it being, and he promised himself that he would make sure to watch it that night after leaving work so that he could truly appreciate the music encompassed within that two-hour movie.
##
By the time Tony made it home, cracked open a beer and sprawled against his recliner while the opening scene of Grease graced his TV it was well after 11PM. Gibbs had noticed the distraction of the team, and had decided to work them overtime so that they could maybe make up all the time they wasted dawdling through the work day. Having suffered through a fit of restless sleep the previous night, Tony's eyelids felt as though there were tiny little elephants resting upon his brows forcing his eyes to shut, but he had promised himself a movie, and he wasn't going to fall asleep until he watched it from beginning to end. That promise he had made to himself at the beginning of the day was the one thing that had driven him to not make some smarmy remark about working late; it was safe to say that he had been looking forward to it more than he did his usual after work movie.
Despite his eagerness to watch the movie in its entirety, as hard as he tried he couldn't stop his eyes from falling shut as the movie continued to play in the background. It was one of those moments where he didn't know he had fallen unconscious, and the movie he had been watching morphed into his dreams so smoothly that there was no way for him to tell that he had actually fallen into the spell of a dream.
##
Clad in tight black pants that fit snuggly against his hips and thighs along with a black leather jacket that hugged his shoulders and accentuated his chest, Tony DiNozzo felt like the big man on campus. Correction; he was the big man on campus. He could get all of the ladies, he was leader of the "T-birds" and he had never before felt the taste of want that many people beneath him had suffered through. That is until the summer before his senior year at Rydell High, everything changed for him. He couldn't have Ziva David, and he wanted her; lusted for her in a way that was nearly foreign to him.
A forced family vacation tore him away from his tight-knit group for three long months, and he found himself able to relax without the pressures of a high-school reputation weighing upon his chest. It was with that light attitude, and playful demeanor that he met Ziva David on the sandy beaches miles away from anyone he knew. She had curly brown hair that she wore up in a bun each day he saw her, and dark brown eyes that captivated him more than he ever thought a girl could. The clothes she wore were not what he was usually attracted to; her shorts were dark in color, and baggy in design, whereas her shirts were not low-cut and the only place they were even remotely tight were around her biceps. She was not shy, and she could definitely hold her own against him. Her jokes threw him off, and he couldn't help but to find joy in just being allowed in her presence. It was safe to say that Ziva David made Tony DiNozzo fall in the exact way he had avoided falling all his life. The news of her inevitable return to her hometown in Israel came as a slashing blow to Tony's heart, and as he gave the saddest goodbye he ever had to suffer through, he vowed that he would never allow his heart to be pulled out of his hands again.
The vow didn't last him as long as he would have liked, and while he tried to reason that he had never fully gained his heart back from her in the first place, Ziva's reappearance in his life shook up his entire world. Before he realized she wasn't thousands of miles away, the lonely sense of longing that filled his heart was a heavy reminder of what he had lost and probably would never have again. He attempted to cover that hole with faceless, nameless girls who meant little more to him than a pair of skirts he could slip inside of.
If the excitement he felt upon seeing Ziva's makeup free face again was anything to go by, then his attempts of getting over her did not help in the least. Finding out she had not gone back to Israel after their summer together as her family had originally planned had made Tony ecstatic. That emotion had quickly become masked by cool aloofness that he was used to portraying in front of his friends, and when he pushed her too hard by saying that he didn't remember Ziva among the many girls he had had at the beach that summer, Ziva smacked him. While he did deserve it, his cheek stung from just the memory of it all.
It had taken him a while to get back into her good graces after that first mishap, but with a few heartfelt apologies, and an unavoidable injury to his knee that had him limping around like a goon for the better part of a month, he was able to spend time with her again. When she said yes to attending the dance with him he felt like a God. After all, that was his chance to show her how well that they went together, and he felt like it had been working really well.
Their chemistry was palpable to everyone in the room, and the way they moved together was the purest form of connection that he had ever known. Somehow, despite the perfectness of the moment, he still managed to screw it all up. Again. Though, if you were to ask him, it really wasn't his fault.
It was not his fault that Ziva had been pulled away from him by a too drunk McGee, and it definitely had not been his fault that he his ex-girlfriend Jeanne Benoit had decided that was the right moment to show all of Rydell exactly how she had received her nickname. Tony told Ziva all of that the next day over the phone as a way of an apology, but that did nothing to soothe her anger as she preceded to tell him how it was his fault that he didn't bother to go after her when she had been forced away, and how it was completely on him that he chose to dance with 'Cha Cha' instead of walking away. She didn't buy his excuses about the competition being on the line, and she had nearly hung up with him until he smoothed it over with some half-assed apology he didn't even remember a few minutes after saying it.
His excuse had come at that moment just before her anger had gotten to its boiling point, and for that he was grateful. He knew what her anger looked like, and he did not want to be on the receiving end of it any longer than necessary. The invitation he threw out about a movie date, just the two of them, seemed to distract her just enough to let go of her anger, and he didn't even think about what could potentially go wrong.
In theory his idea had been brilliant, but as it all played out he realized they should have gone somewhere a bit more private so that they could discuss everything. In a moment of pure weakness talking had been the furthest thing from his mind, and he had ended up putting the moves on her. It was the way her skin gleamed in the moonlight in a far too kissable way combined with the way she looked at him with hope she tried really hard to disguise that had his mind turning to mush and nothing but his male adolescence could take control of his body. Following his urges seemed to be in his best interests, and any thoughts of holding back swam away from him.
He hadn't really regretted his decision to palm her right breast until she'd twisted his arm just enough so that his shoulder slid right out of its socket. His scream of agony did nothing to call her back as she walked away from him, and when his eyes finally stopped watering enough for him to see again, he noticed the class ring resting atop the dashboard of his car rather than on her finger where he had placed it moments before.
It wasn't until he saw her at the race that he realized things were going to have to change for them to even stand a chance. When she walked away without so much as a wave in his direction he grew scared of facing a future without her. He went home that night with only the intent to show her how much he had changed; how she had made him want to change for her.
The day of the carnival he was finally able to show that side of himself that he had never let anyone but Ziva and his parents see. Letterman jacket, black jeans, and a pair of chucks adorned his body, and all that coated his mind was thoughts of Ziva. He would make her see, things would be different. He vowed to not let her go until she knew everything he had to offer.
His friends didn't seem to understand his need to grow up and move on. They refused to see the way he had changed, and all out wouldn't accept it. The reaction they gave off brought a hint of worry to rise within his gut, because if Ziva didn't understand then that was it for him.
It wasn't until a nearby wolf whistle sounded that he was torn from his thoughts, and he was glad that he was. Ziva stood a few feet in front of him clad in all black: tight leather pants encased her legs, and looked more like paint on flesh rather than any sort of clothing. The off the shoulder top that adorned the upper half of her body was much different than anything else that he had seen her wear, and he just knew that he could rip it in half with his teeth if he was given the option. He hoped that she dressed like this for him, because if there were some other punk then there would have certainly been a fight within the seconds following that moment.
Thinking she may be nothing more than a figment of his imagination he looked to his friends. Noticing their gazes were focused in the same direction of his gawking, he called out her name on a gulp. The answering smirk that she graced in his direction told him that the outfit she wore was all for him, and when her raspy words filled the clearing around them all he wanted to do was listen and obey her. For the rest of his life if possible.
He never wanted to forget the way she looked in that outfit, nor did he want to forget the way her lips curved and curled around the phrase "tell me about it stud." It would forever haunt his dreams, and he looked forward to that.
##
Waking up had never felt like more of a chore than it did after falling asleep in his recliner the night before. His mind was fuzzy, and he felt like his mouth had been stuffed full of cotton. It took a few moments for him to recall his dream, and when it finally settled into place in his mind he couldn't help but to smile. He could remember the view of leather molded across Ziva's ass as clear as day, and he knew that whenever he looked at her that was what he would be seeing.
He showed up to work a few minutes late, as per usual, but despite the glare that Gibbs shot in his direction he could not stop smiling. On that day he was the one humming a tune from Grease, as the image of Ziva wearing the same outfit Olivia Newton-John did at the end of the movie circled through his mind. Pulling out his chair, he sat down at his desk, turning on his computer as he put his things away in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Once he was settled into his work station he folded his hands across the top of his desk, smiling across the walkway at the Israeli woman who had unintentionally started all of this. "So Ziva," he said in a way of greeting, "what do you think of Grease?"
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End Note: So, I am thinking I may make that dream sequence longer. Turn it into a full blown fic full of details and everything to make it that much more real. But I do like the overview of it as it is now. Let me know your thoughts.
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