A/N: Tony teaches Ziva how to ski. Sort of, also sort of Tiva.
Day 24: Write about a skiing trip.
"Thank you for inviting me on this skiing trip", Ziva says as they glide above the snow in the chair lift.
"You're welcome. It's too bad my buddy had to cancel, but this could be fun," Tony says.
"Could be?" she arches an eyebrow and he grins. "Anyway, thanks for offering to teach me how to ski."
"I'm a really good teacher," he says with a smile and more than enough confidence. She bites her tongue; this was going to be fun.
They get off the lift, and head for a quiet spot to the side, where he starts giving her instructions.
"I'm not sure a really good teacher would start his lesson at the top of a slope," she says after stepping into her skis.
His mouth opens and closes. "I'm sure you'll do fine." Not quite as confident as earlier.
Tony gives her a few more pointers, and honestly if she didn't already know how to ski, she'd probably break a leg with the advice he's giving her.
She stares at him as he's explaining how to slow down, and it suddenly occurs to her how much he looks like the stereotypical hot ski instructor. She tilts her head thinking about what his scruff would feel like. Or what his chapstick would taste like.
"Did you get that?" he says with a focused gaze.
She feels only slightly caught, and has no idea what he just said. "Mhm," she answers and waves a hand, making sure not to whack him with the pole she's holding.
Tony gives her that million dollar smile, apparently he believes her, and she just has to ask, "Were you ever a ski instructor?"
"No, why?" His body posture perks up and he looks at her with hooded eyes, and she knows exactly where his mind just went.
"I'm wondering how many people you put in the hospital with your advice," she deadpans and pushes off.
She looks over her shoulder and sees his perplexed expression right before he follows her. When he reaches the bottom of the slope where she's waiting, he sprays her with snow while coming to a halt. I deserved that, she thinks.
Tony removes his goggles and looks her in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me you could ski?"
"You never asked," she says playfully.
He harrumphed. "You could've just stopped me."
"You were too cute, pretending to be a ski instructor," she replies and playfully nudges him.
To soften the blow to his ego, she adds, "However, I know nothing about the après-ski habits in the US, perhaps you can teach me about that."
She winks and the slow smile that forms on his lips is accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye. Sometimes, he really is too cute, she thinks. And too easy.
