Prompt: it smells like cinnamon
Tiva-ish
Closing the car door behind him, muting the sound of the rain, he greeted and thanked Ziva for picking him up.
She waited with strained patience as he jostled his backpack, and tried to remove his soaking wet coat without accidentally slapping her in the face with it.
The humidity in the car increased, as fog began to creep up the windows. She started the engine and ran the AC.
Tony seemed to finally have settled in the passenger seat, and frowned at her. "It smells like cinnamon in here." He leaned in close to her and inhaled sharply. "Hmm, it's not you, not that you don't smell nice, you always do-"
She pushed him back to his side of the car, and wiped at the water drops that had fallen from his face. "You are making me all wet."
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You're the first woman to complain about that."
Ziva stared at him blankly. "I forgot what you were like before 7 am."
He grinned widely, the conversation, or perhaps just the topic, waking him up. "Ruggedly handsome? Charming? Witty? Simply irresistible?" He pursed his lips ash she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're thinking of ways to shut me up aren't you?"
"Yes."
"I don't suppose any of them are pleasant?"
"Not for you, no." She grinned mischievously.
He gave her a disapproving look, and patted at his hair. "You don't know what you're missing."
The spiky patch of hair at the back of his head distracted her. "You keep missing..." She pointed at the unruly hair.
He swatted in the general direction but missed it twice.
"No, just..." She reached out and brushed the patch of hair flat, her fingers lingering a moment longer than they should have. She pulled her hand back as if she had been burned. The sensation of rain water and whatever product Tony had put in his hair felt wet and sticky. Not having anything handy to wipe her hand on, she wiped it on sleeve.
He chuckled, and she met his gaze in confusion. "I got you all wet again, huh?"
She slapped his arm, soft enough so it wouldn't hurt, and sighed as she got ready to drive them both to work.
"It still smells like cinnamon." His stomach rumbled in agreement.
She faced him, counting to ten. "Look in the back."
His face lit up as he caught sight of the box she had picked up at the bakery. "You brought me a cinnamon roll?"
"I brought us cinnamon rolls."
The soft smile he sent her way, melted the mild annoyance she had been feeling.
"Technically, I should be buying you breakfast for driving me to work while my car is in the garage."
She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should."
"Perhaps I will this weekend," he replied, trademark smile sliding into place just as she peeled out of the parking spot with squealing tires. "Assuming we make it to the end of the week."