I know I promised the second chapter of Brown on Green, but when I finally upload it there is a very long author's note that explains what happened. But to tie you over until I get that sorted out, here is a little story to read. Have fun.
Brown Eyed Girl
He watched as she sipped her mojito, her eyes focused on the grain of the wooden bar surface. She trailed her fingernail along one of the grooves created by many before her doing the same action as they thought, drunk or not, about what ever it was that had enticed them into the bar. In their case it was a Goth with a caffeine level higher than the average coffee shop. 'Aw, come on guys, just a few drinks, it will be fun!' Yeah, fun. He was sat at a bar staring at the woman of his dreams and unable to make a pass at her. There were rules against that sort of behavior, they were partners after all. But it wasn't just that, he wasn't really one for following all of the rules, and he could barely remember most of them. He knew that he could pick up any girl in the establishment, a fairly high-class bar with a few small tables but more emphasis on the large dance-floor, fancy sound system and reasonably good live band. 'Girls' had always been Anthony DiNozzo's specialty, right from his first day of school when another boy dared him to kiss one of the girls and he did, receiving a well thrown punch to the face – how was he to know that the girl's father was a martial arts and self-defense specialist? But women, women were a whole other kettle of fish, and the specimen in front of him was no exception, not by far. He'd tried with women before. Jeanne for one – she was more than a girl, more than just a cute medical intern, but then she was also a mission. It wasn't real with her, or that's what he tried to tell himself. But Ziva was more than even that. Ziva was his partner, his best friend, and easily the most beautiful woman in the building, not to mention the most dangerous. He guessed it helped to be attractive when you were an assassin. Helped to have a good body, nice curves, pretty face, really good… Stop it! DiNozzo! Gibbs voice echoed through his head as he ran his eyes up and down her body, lingering slightly on the exposed skin and the top of the dress where it sat just above the small of her back, remembering what she looked like without the little black satin dress that she was wearing. Good to know his conscience had taken on the same tone as his boss. And the ability to head-slap him, no matter how metaphorically. He forced his eyes up to the profile of her face. She looked tired, somber. He hated seeing her that way, he liked to see the light in her eyes, the little twinkle she got when they were teasing one another or when they were pulling a prank on McGee, or when they were undercover together, her soft skin pressed against his, her curves fitting neatly…DiNozzo! Yep, couldn't look at her any longer. He turned to his beer, the half empty glass not looking as appealing as it had when he had ordered. Or looking too appealing, he was struggling to decide. He couldn't help but notice that the colour of the Guinness was the same as the colour of her hair. Stop, DiNozzo! He quickly looked to where he thought Abby and McGee had been sitting to be confronted with a gaggle of young blondes. He took a double take, literally.
"They are your type, no?" Ziva asked when she noticed his surprise.
"Er, dunno." He turned his head back to the bar.
"You do not know?" She looked at him incredulously. "I thought you were a fan of buxom blondes, no?"
"Well, it all depends on how drunk I am and how willing they are." He joked and Ziva rolled her eyes.
"Well, they look very willing." She muttered and slid out of the bar stool. "I am going to the bathroom." She walked off without another glance at him and he frowned.
"What was that?" He looked down at the wooden bar, taking up Ziva's habit of carving out the grain whilst she was unavailable.
"Abigail and Timothy are dancing, Anthony. That is what you were looking for in the first place, was it not?"
"Yeah, thanks Ducky." Tony sighed.
"What is bothering you, dear boy?"
"Oh, I don't know, Ducky. It's just…when you were younger, was there ever someone, y'know, special?"
"Oh, yes. In fact, when I was about your age, there was a young lady, Matilda her name was, and she was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. Well, her father owned the shop down the street from where I was living at the time and I used to pop in every day for a pint of milk and half a dozen eggs just to see her. Oh, I lived off of a diet of anything with eggs and milk in for almost six months. Of course, she moved away, got married. I believe she had three children in the end. But I still dreamt about her every night. She really was a beauty, and so kind and warmhearted."
"You regret not telling her, Ducky?"
"Not telling her my feelings? Of course, but I can do nothing about it now. Many years have passed." He looked at Tony, then followed the young man's gaze to a couple stood talking on the edge of the dance floor. Her halter-neck black satin dress hugged her figure tightly, the open back giving a good view of her sculpted body. Tony would put money on the fact that Abby had dressed her. He would also put money on the fact that the dress had come out of the undercover section of her wardrobe, knowing that most of the dresses she owned belonged to that section, the section she had specifically collected for the purpose of missions. She would never have worn that of her own volition without a need to. The man she was talking to was tall and handsome, dressed in a smart suit, he would hazard a guess at Armani. He had dark, slicked back hair and a smug smile, one that said, 'I'm talking to a hot girl and by the end of the night she'll be begging me to take her home.' Tony knew that smile. He had worn that smile before. "Ah. Our dear Officer David. Oh, yes, someone special indeed." Ducky smiled. "Well, I think it time I ought to be heading off home. Mother will begin to worry." He patted Tony's arm. "Don't be like me, Anthony. Try to avoid regrets." And with that he walked out, casting one last look to Tony and then to Ziva. Tony took a long sip of his drink before standing up and making his way over to his partner. The band changed song and he grinned. He'd seen this movie.
"May I have this dance?" He interjected, blocking her view of Mr. Smug. She had seen the film to, they'd watched it together.
"Tony, I…"
"Ziva, no is not an acceptable answer." He took her hands and pulled her fully onto the dance floor.
Hey where did we go,
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow,
Playin' a new game,
Laughing and a running hey, hey
Skipping and a jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our hearts a thumpin' and you
My brown eyed girl,
You're my brown eyed girl.
They kept in time with the music, on hand on her hip, the other locked with hers. She laughed as he pulled her from side to side, spinning her out and back in again.
Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow
Going down the old mine
With a transistor radio
Standing in the sunlight laughing,
Hiding behind a rainbow's wall,
Slipping and sliding
All along the water fall, with you
My brown eyed girl,
You're my brown eyed girl.
They'd watched 'Sleeping with the Enemy' together on a Friday movie-and-pizza night. Before Jeanne. She missed those. It had been hard to restart the weekly tradition after Jeanne. Even more so after she had come back from Israel and he had come back from being Agent Afloat. There was no way to restart them though, both felt to awkward about asking, and both knew what was at stake.
Do you remember when we used to sing,
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da
Just like that
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da, la te da
The tension that surrounded them had always been there, but it had never been so heavy. It weighed them down. They were drowning in the tension and they didn't have the security of the lifejacket that was the close friendship they used to have. It was only by treading water that they were staying above the surface, but they were both running out of energy. Any day now one or the other was going to give up, exhausted from the pretending, and let their guard down. And that was dangerous.
So hard to find my way,
Now that I'm all on my own.
I saw you just the other day,
My how you have grown,
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometime I'm overcome thinking 'bout
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you
My brown eyed girl
You're my brown eyed girl
They both wanted it, and that was a problem because they couldn't have it. The desire was like lead weights around their ankles, pulling them down, because no matter how hard they fought, it was still there. There was no way to get rid of it, no way to trick it into thinking it was getting what it wanted. After all, all lead weights want is to be at the bottom of a pond.
Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da lying in the green grass
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da bit, bit, bit, bit, bit, bit
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da sha la la la la la...
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da
The music faded out and they slowed their dancing to a halt. She kept one of her hands on his shoulder, the other still tightly clasped in his, their fingers locked together, whilst the hand that had been sat on her hip had somehow (Tony had no idea when he had moved it, or even if he had meant to) made it's way up to the back of her dress and the fingers were skimming along her smooth skin, tracing the outline of the satin. Their bodies were closer than they were when they had started dancing and he could feel her hot breath on his neck as she kept her eyes fixed on his. He looked at her, his brown eyed girl and smiled, trying to convey what he couldn't in words silently.
The song was 'Brown Eyed Girl' by Van Morrison, if you are interested. It is a good piece of music. Try reading this whilst listening to it. I wrote it whilst listening to it.
There will be a second chapter up, possibly tomorrow.
For my reference: 27th NCIS fic.