Thanks to my wonderful beta Kristen! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Fowl Play
Ziva David stared at her oven, acutely aware that she was more at home in a firefight than in a kitchen. For some reason – she was not sure how – she had ended up being tasked with hosting Thanksgiving. Although she considered herself a good cook, she was used to cooking only for herself, not for seven people.
Unless she was planning to poison one of them.
Cursing the lack of a cookery section in her Mossad training, she prodded the pumpkin pie again. It might be cooked, and then again it might not be and she could accidently give someone food poisoning. She decided to leave it to cook for a further five minutes, before shoving it back into her already extremely overloaded oven.
A knock sounded, and she wiped her hands on the nearest cloth before heading towards her front door. Checking carefully through the peephole, she recognized her guests and opened the door wide for them.
"Ziva!" Abby squealed at the top of her lungs as she bounced excitedly up and down on the spot. "It's so good to see you again!"
"You saw her yesterday," Tim pointed out from beside her. "Although it is good to see you Ziva."
The Israeli took a cautious step back to allow them in, and was immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug by the Goth. Tim winced as he stepped through the door.
"Abs," he warned. "If you don't let Ziva breathe, we won't be having any food later."
Abby let go and took Tim's hand instead. Ziva hid a smile as she watched them pass her. Two down, four to go.
She returned to the kitchen and decided to make a start at laying the table. While balancing seven plates, seven glasses and seven sets of cutlery in her arms, one of her timers went off and she swore violently as she searched for a safe place to dump everything. Much to her dismay, a knocking at the door occurred again, and she narrowly missed knocking two saucepans and their contents onto the floor.
Thankfully, she heard the door open, followed by Abby's enthusiastic greeting of the newcomer. Wondering who exactly it was, she examined the turkey as she would a dead human. Maybe another half an hour. Resetting the timer, she left the table setting for later and emerged from the kitchen again to greet her latest guest.
It was Ducky. The medical examiner smiled warmly in greeting and passed her a bottle of wine.
"Do you know when the first Thanksgiving was?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"A long time ago," she replied, smiling to show she did not mean anything by her remark. "Possibly when I began to cook my turkey."
"Are turkeys kosher?" Abby questioned, jumping into the conversation. "Because I thought most birds aren't kosher, but you are cooking a bird for us, so how does that work?"
Ziva smiled. "Turkeys are kosher," she informed the Goth. "But I do not always keep kosher."
"I forgot about that," Abby mused. "You've eaten pepperoni pizza before, or so Tony said."
"Where is Tony anyway?" Ducky wondered. "He left with me; we had to take the stairs because the elevator was out of action."
"Why would Gibbs be using his conference room today?" McGee pondered. "What was he doing at work anyway? We all got the day off."
"Well, you know what Jethro is like," Ducky smiled. "He was catching up on paperwork when I saw him earlier. Tony was there because of his lack of paperwork recently."
Ziva giggled.
"I saw the Director," Ducky continued. "I doubt that woman takes Christmas Day off. I only went in because an Admiral dropped dead of a heart attack and they wanted to be sure it was not foul play."
"Fowl play," Abby sniggered.
They stared at her.
"Fowl play!" she repeated. "Turkeys – fowls – fowl play?"
They continued to stare at her as she erupted into another fit of laughter. Tim rubbed her back softly as she went bright red. Another knock sounded at the door, and Ziva went to answer it. She opened the door and smiled at the newcomer.
Tony DiNozzo was aware that he was running late. Only Gibbs would be mean enough to make him work on Turkey Day, and then his car had decided to refuse to go over 30, forcing him to crawl the whole way to Ziva's apartment while simultaneously cursing the garage that had 'fine-tuned' his engine the week before. He would be paying them a visit as soon as he could find a way of getting there.
But to have the door answered by a vision of his crazy ninja Mossad chick in an apron declaring 'Kiss the Cook', her hair tied loosely back in a ponytail, and a nice smile on her face made the whole day suddenly worth it. From the noises emanating inside, he guessed everyone else was already here.
Without giving her any warning, he kissed her softly. They broke apart quickly, afraid the others might see them; neither intended to receive a lecture about Rule 12 after all. She looked confused as he gazed at her again.
"Not that I am complaining, but what was that for?" she questioned.
"Your apron," he smirked. "Can I come in?"
She stepped to one side, glancing down at her apron as he passed. "Ah," she muttered.
He took in the room, with Abby in the middle of a hiccupping fit, the Probie trying to help her, and Ducky getting involved in a tale about someone who hiccupped for fifty years. The smells coming from the kitchen were making his mouth water.
"I thought Jenny would be here by now," he offered. "Is she hiding?"
"She has not yet arrived," Ziva told him.
A frantic knocking at the door made them both whirl around. "Or perhaps this is her?" Tony suggested.
"She is not usually late," Ziva conceded, before pulling open the door.
Gibbs and Jenny both stood there, very red-faced. "My car broke down," Jenny instantly offered. "Jethro gave me a lift."
Tony didn't believe a word of it, especially as they were standing a little too close, but he feared for his head and decided to say nothing. In front of Gibbs or in range of his bat ears at any rate.
Ziva seemed to realize this too, judging from the smirk on her face. She gestured for them to enter, before closing the door and returning to the kitchen. After observing his boss and his boss' boss for a few minutes and decided they were definitely sitting too close for 'just friends', Tony followed her into the kitchen.
"You need to get out of here for a little while," he noted. "Nothing will burn."
"Says the man who can burn pasta," she retorted.
"Hey!" he objected. "That only happened because we got a little carried away on the couch."
"A little? I had carpet burns for a week."
He grinned happily. "Still, I know something we could do… in front of the others before you object."
Timothy McGee resisted the urge to take a photo as Tony pleaded with Ziva. The two of them had been playing strip poker. Ziva was still fully clothed, but Tony was clad in only his boxers and the Israeli was refusing to hand over a single item of clothing.
Only Tony was stupid enough to challenge a Mossad Officer to play poker. Ziva had no tell and was always up for a fight. And she could intimidate her partner any day of the week. Somehow, Tony had not put two and two together and realized this was a very bad idea.
Abby had disappeared as the poker games became more and more interesting, which was very puzzling. At first, she had been cheering Ziva on, but she had abruptly vanished and McGee was loathe to stop watching the game to locate her. She could not have left the apartment anyway, not without making enough noise to alert everyone.
He watched as Ziva held Tony's clothes aloft and set off towards her bedroom. Tony slumped onto the floor, looking nervous. Risking a grin, Tim got up and followed Ziva, intending to ask her if she had seen where Abby had disappeared to.
He did not expect to see the Goth rummaging through Ziva's wardrobe as he entered. Although he expected Ziva to physically remove Abby, the Israeli merely placed the pile of clothes on top of the wardrobe.
"Looking for anything in particular?" she questioned, seemingly intrigued as to why someone would want to hunt through her belongings.
Abby stuck her head out. "You have some really cool weapons in here!" she grinned.
"Abs," he called. "You need to come out of there."
"But Timmy!" she objected. "I've found sixteen guns already, and another twenty knives. She's even got five grenades in here, as well as a few fake passports."
Ziva grinned; Tim groaned.
"Doesn't mean you can search through someone else's things," he reminded her.
"I do not mind," Ziva spoke up. "As long as you do not set off a grenade, Abby."
"Thanks!" Abby giggled, returning to her task.
"Is there a party in here or something?" Tony asked, appearing in the doorway.
"No, but your clothes are here," Tim reminded him.
Tony pulled a face. "Never mind. While Jenny and Gibbs are in the kitchen, does anyone else think something is going on between them?"
"You mean like between Timmy and me?" Abby questioned, her voice muffled.
"Is there something you haven't been telling us, McLover Boy?" Tony grinned. "You and our Mistress of the Night, eh?"
"Or between you and Ziva?" Abby added, still buried in a pile of shoes.
Tim smirked as Tony went pale. "How do you know?"
"Please," Abby replied. "Women know these things."
"That we do," Ziva confirmed.
Tony made a sudden move for his clothes, but Ziva reached them first and jumped over her bed to reach the window on the far side. Alerted by the noise, Abby removed her head from the depths of the wardrobe to watch. Ziva opened the window easily and held the clothes outside.
"Zee-vah," Tony warned. "Don't do anything rash."
She grinned as she let go of the clothes and they fell five storeys. Abby whooped with joy and Tim found himself laughing.
"My clothes!" Tony wailed.
"Poor Tony," Abby giggled. "So, Jenny and Gibbs? I think Mommy and Daddy are hiding something."
"How can we discuss this when Ziva just threw my clothes out the window!" Tony argued. "Although I reckon they were having a 'meeting' in the elevator when I left. Explains why I had to take the stairs with Ducky."
"They are not sleeping together," Tim decided.
"Why not?" Tony countered.
"Because I doubt the Director would do anything comprising in an elevator with a subordinate," he pointed out.
"That's a lot of long words, McDictionnary," Tony grinned. "I think you're trying to say that she wouldn't risk her job."
"If Gibbs is breaking Rule 12," Abby wondered. "Does that mean we can break it too?"
Abby Scuito kept a watchful eye on Mommy and Daddy as everyone sat down to eat. They were still sitting just a little too close to each other, and she was determined to catch them out.
The table was laden with sweet potatoes, sweet corn, stuffing, a big bowl of fruit, bread, gravy, cranberry sauce, and of course the turkey. Ziva had been working most of the day to produce a huge feast for them all, and now Abby was hungry. She had deliberately skipped lunch so she could eat more of Ziva's delicious cooking now.
Her stomach growled as she let her eyes slide over to Gibbs and Jenny again, and she suppressed a smile when she noticed them holding hands. It was sweet, and she had no intention of spoiling it by telling the others.
Right now anyway. She would tell them the moment the parents were in the next room.
She looked up to notice the turkey-cutting knife all on its own on the side. Standing up carefully, she reached for it…
"I'm cutting the turkey," Tim objected, trying to stop her.
"I want to do it!" she protested, slapping his hands out of the way and picking up the knife.
"Why can't I –" Tony started.
"Ducky will do it," Gibbs ordered, without raising his voice or letting go of Jenny's hand.
Ducky stood up proudly as everyone took their seats again. "Thanksgiving," he announced. "Was originally a harvest festival. Yet it changed to become a celebration of our forefathers' survival in the New World. Although it was not quite the New World, but…"
He trailed off. "But I digress. Happy Thanksgiving."
As he began to cut the turkey, everyone cheered.
THE END