As Ziva walked up to her car, she couldn't help but think there was something about this DiNozzo. He was attractive, yes, though she had a feeling she should never admit that, he would hold it over her head forever. Wait, she wasn't going to see him again, was she? Relationships only complicated things, and she didn't even know anything about him. Hooking up with strangers was never a good idea in her line of business. Particularly not after the lecture the deputy directory had given her after her last mission.
She got in her car and glanced at the building she'd just exited. Wondering. There had been something about the way he looked at her. Underneath the leering looks he had given her. No, she decided, not worth it. She had really infuriated the deputy director when she had followed her gut instead of his orders, during her last mission. He would undoubtedly place her under surveillance now, at the very least for the first couple of weeks, and she didn't feel like explaining why she was visiting a complete stranger in the middle of the night. It didn't help that the deputy director was her father. Their relationship had been strained for years. The NCIS liaison position was more punishment than promotion. Yes, it would be far less dangerous, but for a Komemiyut member it felt like a PR job. She understood why her father was always extra hard on her, though; he didn't want anyone in Mossad to think he was doing his daughter any favors. Not just because he would lose respect, but also because he knew the other officers wouldn't respect her and value her skills.
Arriving at her destination, she quickly inspected the sparsely decorated apartment and deposited the files on the kitchen table. She opened the first file, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She remembered the stories her friend Jenny Shepard, who was now the director of NCIS, had shared with her about Gibbs. After reading the file she had a feeling they would work well together.
As she opened the next file and her eyes landed on the photo of a now familiar face, a smile crept across her lips and twinkle appeared in her eyes. Staring back at her was Anthony DiNozzo jr. with a smile she would recognize anywhere. Truth be told, that picture would've been better suited for a toothpaste ad, than a work file. He obviously knew he looked good and wasn't shy about it.
When they met half an hour ago, she didn't have him pegged as law enforcement. She was usually good at reading people, which made discovering that he was a senior field agent all the more intriguing. She read the rest of the file with great detail; grew up on the East Coast, wealthy family, high recommendations from Philadelphia and Baltimore PD, undercover assignment with the mob, respects authority figures, though he does have a habit of being a blabbermouth. Seen with several different women since surveillance started. She smirked at that, at least she hadn't read him completely wrong. This could get interesting.
Doing her best to ignore the excitement that ran through her at discovering she would be working with him, she decided then and there that she would do everything she could to get under his skin and make him squirm.
-0-
Tony arrived at the bullpen at half past 6, after only a few fitful hours of sleep. All of his dreams had involved a certain Israeli that had showed up at his doorstep unexpectedly. None of them had been "soaked" though, he snickered remembering her earlier mistake. He eagerly looked around to see if his gut feeling had been correct, that she would be the Mossad Officer joining their team. He appeared to be the first of his team to have arrived, though, he was pretty sure Gibbs was somewhere lurking in the shadows to show up when least expected. Apart from the clacking of a keyboard in the far corner, the bullpen was quiet.
Dropping his bag behind his desk, he put his gun and badge in the top drawer and shed his jacket, looking up just in time to see McGee stepping out of the elevator.
"Morning, McTardy," he grinned.
McGee looked around confused and checked his watch. "Why are you this early? And why do you look so exhausted, did that girl keep you up all night after all?" There was no malice in his voice this time, just genuine confusion.
"First of all, you told me to be early—"
"No, I told you not to be late," McGee interrupted.
Tony waved his hand dismissively, "Second, yes. Just not in the way you're thinking." He stepped a little closer and looked around, as if to check if anyone was eavesdropping, despite knowing full well there was only one other agent in the office. "You're not gonna believe what happened to me last night after I landed—"
"I'm tired of hearing every little detail about your one night stands, Tony," he objected.
"Hey, McInterrupt, this had nothing to do with a one night stand okay," he said a little too loudly, the clacking keyboard in the corner halted. "Anyway, I didn't get much sleep because I kept dreaming about this really hot girl that showed up at my apartment last night," he continued in a low voice.
"Were they wet dreams?" a husky voice from right behind him came.
He yelped and whirled around, clutching a hand to his chest.
"Don't ever do that again. You almost gave me a heart attack." He said staring straight at the object of his dreams. How had he not heard her walk into to the bullpen?
"It would not be the first time I gave a man a heart attack," she said as if she was discussing a grocery list.
He frowned. "You mean you broke his heart?" he tried hesitantly, remembering her language mix-up from earlier.
She tilted her head and thought for a couple of seconds, "No, not heartbreak, heart attack. His heart stopped beating."
He took a step back and looked at her sideways, then quickly glanced at McGee, to gauge his reaction. Apparently the probie was more amused by his reactions than by the gorgeous stranger admitting to, what, having killed someone?
Now that there was more than 2 feet of distance between them, Ziva gave him the once-over, a bit disappointed to see he had shaved. The shoulder holster he was wearing made up for it, though. He didn't seem overly muscular, but looking at his broad shoulders and chest made her lose her train of thought for a second. She faked indifference and was about to explain the man was not dead, that the interrogation continued for several more hours after reviving him, when movement behind Tony caught her eye.
"Shalom, Ziva" the director said as she walked towards them. A smile formed on Ziva's face as she returned the sentiment and stepped away from Tony to greet her friend. Seeing them kiss each other on the cheek with great familiarity, Tony's eyebrows shot up with interest.
Jenny then turned towards Tony and asked him where Gibbs was, but before he had a chance to answer, the smell of coffee wafted closer to the group, followed by the agent in question. Instead of uttering a verbal greeting, Gibbs merely nodded his head and sipped his coffee. While the director made introductions, Ziva examined the team dynamics. The cold hard stare she received from Gibbs made it clear that she was going to have to work hard to earn his trust. At the mention of her earlier position with Komemiyut, McGee's face blanched in fear, DiNozzo's brow furrowed slightly—it wasn't a very well-known division, after all—and Gibbs's stare became even colder.
Once the director left, Gibbs looked her straight in the eye and said, "I need an investigator, not an assassin. You're just observing for now." She nodded her understanding, as Gibbs pointed in the direction of the empty desk next to his.
-0-
The morning went by pretty uneventful. Gibbs dropped a pile of files on DiNozzo's desk. DiNozzo in turn dropped them on McGee's desk, who glanced at Ziva, wondering whether it was a good idea to hand them down to the new probie. He decided it probably wasn't when she stared back with a blank expression and he remembered she was an assassin. Sighing, he opened the top file and briefly wondered if Mossad assassins had to do as much paperwork as NCIS agents.
As soon as Gibbs disappeared, probably on another coffee run, Tony was out of his chair, standing in front of Ziva's desk.
"We got off on the wrong foot," he said. "I'm not usually a sexist buffoon."
"Yes, you are," McGee piped in from behind him.
"Nobody asked you, probie," Tony said, shooting daggers in his direction. He tried to clarify himself, "I'm not a sexist buffoon with the people I work with."
"I talked to Stacy from HR the other day, according to her your personnel file is bursting out of it's folder with complaints from coworkers you were 'not a buffoon with'," McGee casually threw in.
Ziva couldn't help but smile, she could see there was more to McGee than the shy geek she first took him to be. He would come in handy if she needed ammo to put DiNozzo in his place. She turned her attention back to the agent in front of her desk.
"Fine!" he gritted in McGee's direction, then turned back to find Ziva staring at him with an amused expression on her face. "I'll do my best to refrain from sexual innuendo when I'm around you."
She smirked, gave him the elevator eyes and asked, "Does that mean I cannot make sexual comments about you? Are there rules against that?"
He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a goldfish. Then when he saw her bat her eyes at him and put on an innocent smile, he regained some composure. This partnership was going to be very interesting. None of his former female work partners were able, or willing, to put up with his juvenile antics and put him in his place. Without running to Gibbs or HR, that is. It looked like he finally met his match in Ziva.
"Oh, there are lots of rules. But the only ones you really need to remember are Gibbs' rules."
"Good, then where can I find these rules? Is there a list on the intranet?"
He chuckled, turned to McGee and said, "You hear that, probie? New probie wants to know if there's a list." He turned back to her adding dead seriously, shaking his head, "There's no list."
He was slightly taken aback by the look of pure irritation she was giving him. Was it something he said?
"Do not call me that again unless you want me to staple your mouth shut."
"What? Probie?" he inquired, involuntarily touching his lips.
"I once killed a man with a credit card, I am not a probie."
His eyes went wide and he nodded his head in agreement with great zeal.
"So how am I supposed to know these rules if there is no list?" she questioned.
"You pretty much learn them by breaking them," he shrugged, still wondering how she was able to switch moods so fast.
"That makes no sense." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why have neither of you made a list, you have worked with Gibbs for many years," she said looking between DiNozzo and McGee.
"Well, we don't know all the rules either," McGee said
"But I suppose in the interest of inter agency cooperation we could tell you some of the more important ones," Tony added.
"Rule 1: Never let suspects stay together," McGee started.
"And, never screw over your partner," Tony added.
Ziva quirked an eyebrow looking at Tony, "There is more than one rule 1?"
"Yeah, I think Gibbs was creating so many rules he got confu—" Ziva cringed at the head slap Tony had just received from their boss. She watched Tony move his head from left to right, checking for damage, while Gibbs silently went to sit at his desk, sipping a steaming cup of coffee.
-0-
Shortly before noon Ziva was called into MTAC. As she descended the stairs half an hour later, the smell of food made her stomach growl. She saw McGee and Gibbs, both with a sandwich in hand, leave in opposite directions. Tony was standing next to his desk, still unwrapping his sandwich when she came to a stop in front of him, first eying the sandwich, then him.
"Did you not buy me food because I am new?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'd be more than happy to make up for it over dinner," he smirked.
"It is fine," she said in a honeyed voice, "I will just share your lunch."
She grabbed his hand and the sandwich in both of hers and took a big bite. Her eyes closed momentarily, enjoying the flavors, but they held a mischievous twinkle when they opened to gauge his reaction.
His facial expression was an odd mixture of shock and disgust; DiNozzo's don't share food. "I'm pretty sure a cheesesteak isn't kosher," he grumbled.
She slowly let her gaze run down his body, licked her lips and said, "I do not keep kosher."
He let go of the sandwich, scrunched up his nose and feigned to have lost his appetite. It was only partially a lie; his hunger for food had been replaced with a completely different type of hunger after the look Ziva had given him.
-0-
When Tony came back from autopsy with the file Gibbs had asked for, his stomach started growling. The uncomfortable feeling made him look across the bullpen to the reason why his stomach was protesting. Ziva seemed oblivious to his reappearance and continued typing away furiously on her computer. A few seconds later an instant message popped up on his computer screen.
check your top drawer
He looked at Ziva again, narrowing his eyes. What was she up to?
Rolling his chair away from the desk, you never knew with Mossad assassins after all, he slowly opened the drawer and found … a muffin. He looked up in surprise. Ziva's eyes were still glued to her computer screen.
thought you might be hungry considering I ate your lunch
A small smile crept on his lips. He looked from the message, to the muffin, to Ziva and narrowed his eyes again. The corners of her mouth curled upwards ever so slightly and her typing speed appeared to have slowed down. He turned towards his keyboard.
is it booby-trapped?
She rolled her eyes, sent a hard look his way and continued typing a report for Mossad. From the corner of her eye she saw Tony pick up a ruler, roll his chair even further back and use the ruler to poke inside the drawer.
it is not rigged, tony
He read the message, placed the muffin on his desk, then looked at her while tapping the end of the ruler against his lips in contemplation.
it is also not poisoned
He raised an eyebrow and wondered whether Mossad officers could read minds.
will you just eat my muffin!
Her exasperated look gave way to one of confusion when she heard the ruler clatter to the floor and saw Tony suddenly sit at attention staring at his computer screen. His eyes slowly found hers across the bullpen and she noticed, even from that distance, that his pupils had dilated. The look he gave her made her frown deepen even more. His slightly parted lips, turned into a sly smile. She narrowed her eyes at him when she saw him turn his attention to his computer and begin to type.
I would love to, but I'm pretty sure the boss man would have a problem with me eating your muffin in the middle of the bullpen
She mouthed a silent "what" as she read his message. She glanced at Gibbs to her left, then at Tony who was apparently trying hard to keep a straight face. Confused and a bit irritated at not understanding what kind of game Tony was playing, she turned back to her computer. Thinking it must have had something to do with what she had written, she opened a browser and typed in "eat my muffin meaning". Her eyes went wide and lips parted. She involuntarily glanced at Tony and saw his smirk widen when he realized she'd figured out the double meaning. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Damn English, why did everything have to have more than one meaning. She focused her attention on the screen again, reread the explanation and briefly closed her eyes as thoughts of Tony's face between her legs flooded her brain, and, well…other parts of her body.
Closing the browser window, she brought up the instant messenger again.
then perhaps in future I will bring my muffin to your apartment
He was still staring at her when she looked at him seductively. Dragging his eyes away from her to look at his screen, he licked his bottom lip and then drew it between his teeth. This was escalating quickly. He briefly wondered if he should ask McGee if instant messages were stored somewhere in the dark recesses of the IT department. His stomach protesting loudly brought him back to the present, though, focusing his attention on the muffin on his desk. Licking his lips again, he gazed at her and slowly removed the wrapper, never taking his eyes of her. Her eyes kept dancing from his hands, to his mouth, to his eyes. Pleased with the attention she was giving him, he broke off a piece of the muffin and slowly brought it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. That is, until his lips closed around the baked goods and he closed his eyes in mock-ecstasy, exclaiming, "Oh Ziva, your muffin tastes so good!"
McGee's head snapped around so fast it could've given him whiplash and his wide eyes skated from Tony, to Ziva, to Gibbs and back to Tony. Gibbs on the other hand, first eyed Tony slowly, who had gone from breaking off morsels to pretty much shoving his face into the small cake he was holding; to Ziva, who sat even more rigid than before, typing on her keyboard. He could very faintly see the corner of her mouth twitch and was pretty sure she hadn't blinked in the last 40 seconds he'd been staring at her. He squinted, is she blushing?
Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony—now licking his fingers one by one with gusto—did his best to resist the urge to give his senior field agent a head slap for behaving like a 12 year old, and concentrated on his computer.
A minute later a pop up message appeared on both Tony and Ziva's screens:
rule 12