Spoilers: None.
Summary: Tony discovers a certain theme in his life.
Author's Note: This chapter took me in several different directions (my muse is very indecisive) before I finally settled on this. This isn't set to occur in any specific time frame, other than before season 7. I hope you find this enjoyable (and less angst-y than the previous "chapter")! Drop me a line and let me know what you think! :)
Backfire
It seemed to be a theme in the life of (Very) Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Almost like Murphy's Law, but with his own, personal touch: backfiring. A failure and turnaround of pranks, jokes, trouble-making, and even the occasional kind gesture; if there's a possibility for a backfire, it will happen. He's not sure when this mildly troubling (and usually comical for everyone but him) trend began, but he's determined to break it.
The last week had been hard on all of them. Well, everyone except Gibbs. This particular case had required a lot of time, effort, and a lot of legwork by the subordinate part of team Gibbs. The details of the now solved case weren't important at this point, but finally going home and collapsing in a heap on his bed for the next day was.
"'Night, McGee, Ziva," he says while glancing at the latter of the two.
Her smile was uncharacteristic. While she does not typically beam (unless a successful prank or embarrassment of Tony occurs), this small smile gave him pause.
"On second thought…," Tony mumbles to himself, then speaks to the room's other occupants, "cancel any and all plans for tonight. We're having a team night!"
McGee gives a little groan, but inwardly decides that, for once, DiNozzo is right. Ziva's eyes go wide as Tony forcibly lifts her off her chair and grabs her back pack, dragging her and McGee to the elevator.
Planning is not his strong suit, he notices. Tony then decides that could be the reason so many of his plans backfired in the past. Despite this lack of plan, he knows this will be a good night. Hopefully.
"Okay, Tony, what will this 'team night' entail?" as she voices this question, Ziva wonders if this is really such a good idea.
"I might regret this," he's pretty sure he will, "but, whatever you guys want! Go-karting, pool, strip poker," he looks at Ziva with a suggestive eyebrow raise (which she dismisses with a scoff and eye roll), "movie night with pizza and beer at my place, karaoke…."
With scrunched faces and head shakes, they dismiss that last idea. Despite the need for levity, listening to drunken, middle-aged men and women carry what they think is a decent tune (definitely fodder for snarky and witty comments), might prove a bit too much to stomach tonight.
"Since any movie night with you usually means you quote every line while we try,"
"And fail. Miserably," Ziva interjects.
"To enjoy whatever it is you've made us watch, I think we'll pass on that one," McGee finishes.
"We have go-karting, pool, and strip poker." Tony says.
"So, pool?"
"What, is go-karting too childish for you, Officer David?" Tony inquires.
But the answer never comes, because Ziva and McGee are already walking toward their cars.
Their pool hall of choice is rather crowded, especially considering it's only Tuesday. They finally find a table near the back corner before McGee goes off to order their first round.
As Tony hands Ziva a pool cue, he issues the first challenge.
"Better go get some ice, Ziva. 'Cause you're about to get burned!"
"I would ask if you could get any beefier, but I suspect the answer is no."
"Wha-? Cheesier, Zee-vah. Cheesier. Come on!" Tony exclaims in mild amusement.
McGee returns, awkwardly carrying two beers and a mojito through the dense crowd, setting them down on the small table against the wall.
"I assume you two are taking the first game?" McGee asks.
"You assume correctly, McSeer. You break, Ziva."
Tony feels he can allow this. Because, of course, despite having that extra hand, he's sure he'll win.
Forty-five minutes and two drinks later, he discovers how wrong he is. Oh, look at that, he thinks, another backfire. He decides there's still time to rectify the situation, because he only has two more balls than her, heh, and she missed her last two shots.
He doesn't take the situation for granted and sinks two in a row, evening the score.
When they are down to the lone eight ball, McGee has taken to slumping against the table, awaiting his turn to play. Through luck or skill, Tony is unsure which; Ziva manages to sink the eight ball in the called pocket, finally ending the game.
McGee heaves a dramatic sigh and throws up his hands, saying, "Oh, my God! Finally!"
The balls re-racked and another game starting, Tony heads back to the bar and grabs another round. When he returns, he's really not surprised to find McGee losing already. Despite such an affinity for anything mathematical, the kid is shockingly terrible at a game practically all about angles. It must be the occasional bout of nervousness the kid suffers, Tony surmises.
Being the competitive man he is Tony decides to help McGee out. Mostly because he just doesn't want Ziva to win two games in row, but the other man doesn't need to know that.
It starts with an "accidental" bump of his hand against the back of her cue while she's lining up her shot, which earns him a slightly exasperated, though somewhat amused glare in return. He knows he needs to step up his game if he wants to provide any help for Probie, so he turns to more subtle tactics.
A slightly longing - if not bordering on lewd - stare oh, wait, I do that on a regular basis, a brush against her thigh or lower back. Little things to set her normally unshakable attitude off balance. They seem to work because she's missed more shots this game (despite consuming less alcohol) than in the last, but it seems McGee isn't doing his part.
Once Ziva begins to send him flirty, sidelong glances, performing feather-light touches against his skin, or full-on grabbing his ass, he realizes she's caught on. No longer is her attention focused on a friendly game of billiards with her teammate, but on something new: a game of chicken. Oblivious, McGee takes advantage of her break in concentration and begins to sink more shots.
Just as Ziva moves to stand between Tony's legs, her hands running up his thighs, and Tony's hands attach themselves to her waist, McGee announces the game is over and he has won.
The two pull away from their game hastily, the "score" tied (it will remain so until the game is picked up at a later date), and look at the table.
"Damn, McGee. I'm so proud. My little Probie is learning to hustle!"
Tony's statement is punctuated by a cough from Ziva and a fake sniffle from Tony.
Ziva laughs. "Yes, I bow down before your greatness."
The younger side of Team Gibbs leaves the pool hall in high spirits that night, Tony's mission accomplished. And he realizes with a great sense of personal pride that he has broken the seemingly never-ending series of backfires for once.
Author's Note: Well, there we go! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I started to identify with Tony in that last paragraph, because my muse finally settled on one thing, lol. Anyway, please review (if you are so inclined)!