Today's prompt: um, it was something along the lines of "having fun in a summer rainstorm"

Tiva, with a capital T.


It had been hot and humid all day. The unpleasant weather had led to an unpleasant mood. The unpleasant mood became even more sour when Gibbs send Tony and her out into the field again, five minutes after they had gotten in from another interview.

McGee's face had split in two at the prospect of remaining in the cool, perfectly regulated air of the Navy Yard. She had considered pelting her stapler at him, but at least he had the common decency not to gloat.

The interview turned out to be a bust and they made their way back to the car in silence, both tired of the bickering they had been doing all day. The storm clouds that had gathered on the horizon when they first left the car were now looming dangerously over the small park they were passing through.

A single splash on her cheek. She wiped it away, you have got to be kidding me.

"I told you it was gonna rain, but you thought you knew better than my weather app, little miss-we-don't-need-no-stinkin'-umbrel-"

"Will you shut up about that app!"

As fast and thunderous as the words had left her mouth, the clouds burst and dumped what appeared to be the content of an Olympic swimming pool over the park.

They ran for the car like their life depended on it. Three seconds into the sprint Ziva realized just how futile that was. Their car was at least a two minute sprint away, and she was already soaked to her underwear.

She chortled and slowed to a walk. Tony would have a thing or two to say about her and wet underwear.

He looked over his shoulder, gave her a quizzical look and slowed down. "What are you doing?"

She laughed, shrugged and held up her hands. "What are you doing?"

He came to a stop and looked pissed for a moment, then glanced down at his suit, then back at her and cracked up pulling the soaked shirt from his skin.

She walked up to him, enjoying the refreshing rain on her sticky skin. It would be no fun in the car, but for now, it felt divine. Looking around the park, she wondered if this was what the plants felt like.

He interrupted her thoughts with a light touch to her arm. "You know what this reminds me of?"

She smiled, if he had said that line five minutes ago she would have wanted to deck him. Now that the dark cloud that had hung over them all day had burst, she decided to play along. "Singing in the rain?"

His brows shot upward, then he chuckled. "That was too easy."

A particularly strong gust of wind pelted them with rain from the side, and blew a stray strand of hair in her face. Before she had a chance to tuck it behind her ear—fixing her ponytail in this weather would be a lost cause—his fingers slowly caressed it out of the way.

Their eyes met and all their previous animosity washed away in a torrential flood of swirling emotions. He smiled gently as his thumb caressed her cheek, and then, like a stroke of lightning he smiled his thousand-watt smile, the one that meant he was up to no good and made all her nerve endings tingle. He lowered his hand and began singing, quietly at first, then louder to drown out the rain.

She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the giggle that erupted at the cliché song. Encouraged, he grabbed hold of her other hand and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her and swaying side to side to the silent music.

Puddles were forming in the grass—the dry ground incapable of swallowing the downpour—as he twirled her and dipped her and pulled her close.

So close.

He stopped singing, eyes boring into hers, bearing his soul, before he dipped his head and captured her mouth with his.

A flood of emotions flowed through her, drowning out all thought, her arm anchoring around his neck, keeping him with her. The rushing of blood in her ears muffled the rainstorm, as wet lips sucked and caressed and demanded more, so much more.

He pulled back, she kept her eyes closed still feeling his lips on hers, and inhaled deeply, the smell of the summer rain and trees and grass all around them bringing her back to the present. He was staring at her intently, eyes darker than the clouds above them, equally ready to pour out what they had been holding in for so long.

"That's one out of three," he said never breaking eye contact.

"One out of three?" She felt a little drunk. Was this another movie reference?

His gaze briefly drifted to her mouth. "The big three, remember?"

She racked her brains, and then her chest clenched, reliving that evening in the bullpen when he brought her the opera. Tears threatened to spill over remembering the gesture and she was grateful the rain would hide any evidence of away, she steadied her breathing before meeting his eyes again, this time certain only raindrops would roll down her cheeks.

"Two out of three, actually," she said steadily, smiling warmly.

He tilted his head, a flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes, and he touched his forehead to hers for a moment. He withdrew enough to meet her gaze, then gave her a mischievous smile. "I have gum in my pocket, does that count as a picnic?"

She burst out laughing, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. "I will take care of the picnic."

He chuckled, placed a kiss on her forehead, and said, "I look forward to it."

Mesmerized by the raindrops dangling and falling from his eyelashes, she placed a hand on his cheek, feeling like a desert flower opening after an eternal drought. She pulled his head down and kissed him tenderly as the rain washed away all the time they had wasted, a promise of a new beginning.