Inspired by the prompt: We both brought the same lawn chair. You couldn't find yours and saw me packing up, so now you're accusing me of stealing.
This needed more editing, and a better ending, but this is as good as it's going to get today.
Tiva meet cute AU
"What do you think you are doing?"
The Israeli staring him down, hands on her hips, looked surprisingly menacing for someone wearing nothing but a bikini. "Packing up my chair," he said, pushing his aviators on top of his head for an unobstructed view. He looked her up and down, flashed her the DiNozzo-smile. This was exactly why he had decided to vacation in Tel Aviv.
"Is this some weird, American attempt at picking someone off." Her eyes flashed.
"That's picking up, and don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." He snapped the chair closed, and rested it against his leg.
"What did you just call me?"
He moved his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose; he had a feeling she would combust like a supernova if they kept up this conversation. When he was seven he had poked a wasps nest with a stick, just to see what would happen. This situation felt eerily similar. "I take it back," he said smoothly, then picked up the proverbial stick after looking her up and down once more. "You have every reason to flatter yourself."
Her nostrils flared, hands balled into fists, and his mind filled with the angry buzzing of the wasps that had chased him into the pool. She took a step closer, and it was at this point that he realized just how toned she really was…and that she most likely knew krav maga. He took an involuntary step back, his chair plopped down in the sand.
Distracted, he looked down at the chair, which was suddenly joined by two pairs of army boots. Authoritative sounding Hebrew was exchanged between the two soldiers and the woman currently glaring at him, the chair, then back at him.
Putting up his hands, he said, "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but this is my chair, I bought it yesterday." He couldn't help himself, wondered whether he was already suffering from heatstroke, and said seductively while flashing her a smile, "I have the receipt in my hotel room if you want to check."
The soldiers' eyes went wide as they both turned to him, one of them shook his head slightly.
He sighed, why did he always feel the need to stoke the fire. He grimaced as she opened her mouth, eyes ablaze, and was saved in the nick of time by one of the soldiers scraping his throat. The soldier quickly nodded to his right, then stood up even straighter.
He eyes followed her gaze and landed on a chair exactly like his. Aside from the army fatigues resting on top of it.
For a split second her chin dropped, before facing the soldiers and telling them to leave.
His heart drummed in his chest, and he could barely contain the shit-eating grin that was tugging at his lips. "This isn't good PR," he said lightly, already forgetting his cocky attitude had almost landed him in a hospital a minute ago. "IDF soldier falsely accuses US federal agent of theft."
"Rav samal," she said aggravated, then touched her ear lobe, and seemed to calm down. "Platoon sergeant," she explained waving a hand.
"Well that just makes it worse." He took off his sunglasses, and chuckled.
She narrowed her eyes, clasped her hands in front of her while straightening her shoulders. "I am sorry."
The apology came rather unexpectedly, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest while meeting her gaze. The apology clearly hadn't been lip service trying to save face for the IDF. Intrigued, he wanted to learn whether there was a warm center inside that burning surface. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm feeling so attacked right now, I could use a drink." He grinned, and continued, "If only someone could guide me to the nearest bar."
She stared him down blankly for a moment, then relented. "Fine, let me get my chair and clothes."
