Tony gripped the mat with both hands. Sweat was starting to drip down his nose and onto the rubber, but he was afraid to break the pose to wipe his face. At least that's what he told himself. Holding downward dog for what felt like an hour was a breeze; his arms were not shaking at all. He definitely wasn't about to faceplant in front of his probie and the autopsy gremlin. Nope. He was fine.
From somewhere across the room, an obnoxiously soothing voice told them to inhale and hop to the front of their mats to transition into a standing forward bend. Tony gasped with relief and stumbled forward. He heard a snort from behind him and turned to glare at McGee.
"I will end you McFlexible," he hissed. He turned back to the front of the room. "Just as soon as I regain feeling in my hamstrings." He grimaced.
He could feel McGee grinning at him. "I don't know what you're complaining about, Tony," he whispered loudly. "You were the one saying you would be twisting pretzels around the rest of us by the end of the day. Something about some extensive sex training coming into play?"
Tony growled. Palmer turned and grinned at him from beneath a mop of sweaty curls. He pushed his glasses up his nose and winked at him.
"So help me, Palmer, I will come over there and mark my territory all over your down dog if you don't turn around." He felt a yoga block graze the back of his head hard. He turned to see which of his friends had betrayed him.
Abby held a second block in one hand and shook her finger at him menacingly. "Be nice, Tony," she said. "Or I'm going to let Ziva throw the next one."
He rolled his eyes at her but held his hand up in mock surrender.
"It's really not so bad," he heard Tim say. "Just breath through it."
"I know," Palmer turned again. "It's common knowledge among practicing yogis that after the moment of deepest pain comes the greatest release. It's simply mind over matter-"
Tony picked up the block Abby had chucked at him and waved it in Palmer's direction. "I can't even tell you what kind of release I'm going to have after I cause a little pain of my own," he smirked.
The smack upside the back of his head caught him completely off guard.
"Oh," he laughed nervously. "Hey Boss! You and Fornell made it here already...we weren't expecting you until...well, never. I was not expecting you to come to a yoga retreat ever."
"Mandatory," came the gruff reply.
Tony glanced at the older man. He was wearing an old Cartwell jacket and a pair of jeans with a some heavy work boots. The smell of sawdust clung to him. "I think you're supposed to take your shoes off before coming in here." He waved weakly toward a sign by the door.
Gibbs grunted. The teacher appeared as Fornell waved to them through the glass doors leading to the garden. "You gentlemen are going to need to take this conversation outside," he said sternly. "Other people are here to concentrate."
Tony scooped up his towel and mat with evident relief. "You don't have to tell me twice," he said as he followed Gibbs outside.
An hour later, showered and stretched, the team found Tony, Gibbs, and Fornell in the rec room of the health center. One of them - Gibbs seemed a prime suspect - had managed to smuggle in a bottle of whisky, and the three of them were drinking out of paper cups while watching a fuzzy pro bowl game on the tiny tv in the corner.
"Oh thank God," Tony breathed as he pushed himself out of his chair and met them at the refreshment table. He had already had his fill of cucumber water and pitas stuffed with sprouts and salmon, but he waited for them to grab plates before corralling them into a corner. "I have to admit, Probie, I'm a little disappointed that you didn't think those bike shorts were appropriate evening wear," he said shoving two small tables together to make room for everyone.
"I bet you are," Abby arched her eyebrow. "Not everyone can pull off that look with so much...confidence." She smiled wickedly.
"Can we please stop talking about my body?" McGee asked.
"I know," Ziva said. "Some of us are trying to eat." She winked at him as he mock-pouted into his plate.
Palmer patted him sympathetically on the shoulder before jumping up, nearly toppling both of their plates to the floor. "Ducky's here! And he found Breena!" He practically galloped across the room to them, calling over his shoulder, "I think we should get a big game of Pandemic going now that everyone's here!" He grabbed Ducky by the arm and patted him excitedly. "It's all about disease, Dr. Mallard. I really think you'll like this one. I'm sure you even have some stories you could share with us about infected cases you've seen yourself over the years! We can play on teams, since really, it's best with four people."
"Oh, Mr. Palmer, I think you can count me out," Ducky said, gently extracting his arm from the younger man's enthusiastic grip. "I see a seat has just opened up at the senior citizen table," he nodded toward the paper bag-swaddled whisky Gibbs was shaking at him, "and I don't want to miss out on any stories about the good old days." Palmer deflated, but his wife squeezed his arm and led him back to the rest of the team. "How about you guys?" he asked hopefully.
"We were going to watch a movie," Tony said, his face lighting up. "Strictly Ballroom, a Baz Luhrman classic. It was the first part of his Red Curtain Trilogy, you know."
McGee made a face. "I think I have to go with Palmer on this one," he said. "Movie about dancing after a day of yoga? Even I can't handle that much estrogen."
Tony bristled. "It happens to be an erotic, masculine portrayal of a very challenging sport."
"Sport?" McGee snorted.
"Yes, sport," Tony ground his teeth. "I'd like to see you try it."
"He already kicked your ass in yoga today," Gibbs said as he passed behind the table to grab another cup. "I don't think you want to issue another challenge to someone so comfortable in such tight shorts."
Abby leaned over and gave Tony a one-armed hug. "And the hits just keep on coming, huh?"
Tony sighed, then straightened up and flashed Ziva and Abby his brightest smile. "You guys will watch with me, right?"
"Are you kidding?" Abby said, pulling her chair closer to the table. "I'm about to kick some major autopsy butt in this game. No one knows disease like me." She paused. "That came out wrong."
Ziva laughed and tweaked her friend's pigtail. "Or did it?" She asked, her eyes twinkling.
Abby stuck her tongue out at her and then turned back to the table as Palmer began to spread out the game pieces.
"Ziva?" Tony asked. She was his last hope.
She quirked her head and met his eyes for a long moment before taking pity on him. "Oh alright, Tony. We can watch. But next time it's my choice."
"Fine," he agreed as he sprang out of his chair.
"Pirates," she teased him.
Tony groaned. "You know what's awful? They're actually making a fifth one of those."
"Really?" Ziva bounced on her toes. "I cannot wait to drag you to the theatre for that."
"What makes you think I'll go," he asked.
Ziva tilted her head and smiled at him. Her fingers brushed lightly up his arm as she turned him toward the door. "Oh," she said breezily, "I am sure I can think of a few ways to convince you."