"DiNozzo?"
Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo looked up from his desk.
"Yes boss?"
"Ever been to Wimbledon?"
He looked mystified. "No boss. What is-"
Ziva David cut in. "Wimbledon is a British tennis tournament where tennis players from all over the world come together to play matches against each other." The Israeli officer looked at her partner concernedly. "Do you never watch it on TV?"
"No, I tend to spend my time watching good TV rather than sweaty men hitting a ball back and forth."
"Isn't that what soccer is? And anyway, it's not just men." The good looking woman tilted her head slightly towards her right shoulder. "There are sweaty women too."
At this, DiNozzo brightened. "Really?"
Gibbs intervened at this point. "The reason that I asked was that the Director thinks that you have earned a holiday. You and Officer David are to go to Wimbledon, London for the final of Wimbledon 2009."
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After more than three hours sitting in the hot sunshine on the tiny seats of Court One, Officers David and DiNozzo started arguing on who they were supporting.
"I'm supporting Roddick," DiNozzo proclaimed loudly as the players took a break from their last game, "because he's American and he lives in Texas."
Ziva turned to him with obvious distaste. "Aren't they both the same thing?"
Tony looked confused. "Yes."
"Well, you would probably like to know that he's also a big hit with the ladies. Being tall, dark, handsome and a tennis player and all that. You could learn something from him, DiNozzo."
He looked interested and then angry as his brain processed Ziva's offending remark. His face brightened, and then said in his trademark sarcastic manner: "I wonder how big his-"
Ziva cut in hurriedly. "I'm supporting Federer."
His face was one of shock. "WHY?""
"Because he is a man of good fashion sense, a great tennis player and very handsome." She smiled at her partner. "And did I mention that he is seeded number two in the world for tennis? He's Swiss and I believe that Americans shouldn't win everything: otherwise they get too big-headed. Like you, Tony." Here she sighed. "But I did want to watch Nadal this year. He's a fantastic tennis player...." She let the sentence drop in expectation of an outburst from Tony.
He didn't reply. A quotation from a film he had once watched circled round in his head: "'Ms. Stoeger, my plastic surgeon doesn't want me doing any activity where balls fly at my nose.'
'Well, there goes your social life.'" He failed to mention this quote to Ziva because it was, in fact, from the film 'Clueless'. It was a girly film. In his attempt to find hot, young actresses wearing almost nothing and who were still at school, he had accidentally picked it up and watched it from beginning to end. He really didn't need her using it as leverage against in the future. He could imagine it now... he walks into the office, and sits at his desk. McGeek and Gibbs are sitting at desks, tapping at keyboards and sipping coffee respectively. Ziva walks in. She says, "How was your girl-friend viewing last night Tony? Exciting? Were there lots of little girls screaming and having pillow fights? Or did you just make each other over this time instead?" Tony looks at Gibbs and McGoo, who look at him as if they are interested. Well, McGeeGaGoo does. Gibbs just looks at him in utter contempt.
Tony shivered. He did not want that. At all. Nada.
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After the final gruelling game, the umpire called out "Game, set and match" and the agents left the stadium in order to find something to eat.
They wandered through the busy streets of London, passing packed pizza parlours and full-to-the-brim cafes. They went on the tube to get to Picadilly Circus, with its famous statue of Anteros.
Tony took this opportunity to tell Ziva a little bit of trivia hat he had picked up over the years. "You know, Ziva, that statue up there is popularly referred to as the statue of Eros, the Greek god of love. But it is actually a statue of Anteros, the brother of Eros, because he was a little less..." he searched for the word frantically, "... full-on than Eros. He's the god of returned love rather than just love itself."
Ziva looked at him, surprised but trying not to show it. "I had no idea that you had so much information in that head, Tony." Here she smiled to herself. "I woudn't have expected it from a person such as yourself."
"Well, you know..." began Tony, but Ziva had already wandered off to view the famous statue from a closer angle. He sighed. She looked beautiful tonight: her wavy hair was draped over her left shoulder, off her back, so that it didn't get in her way. She was wearing makeup; not much, but enough to accentuate her cheekbones and her eyes sparkled in the lights from the huge advertisement boards surrounding her.
As he sidled up beside her, she turned to him and said with a grin "I'm so glad Federer won today. You Americans would have been ecstatic if Roddick had won. You probably would have died from the shock."
"Not true," he rebuked, draping his arm over her shoulder. "We would have taken it as we always do: gracefully and with respect to our opponents." He turned his face to hers.
There was a moment of electricity between them as they gazed into each others' eyes. They stood there, surrounded by people in the lights of London, underneath the popularly misidentified statue of Picadilly Circus.
Then the moment passed, and Ziva said shakily, "Federer's last serve was like him taking candy from a darling."
"A baby, candy from a baby." He murmured.
Then they kissed, free from all embarassment or disapproval, under the starlit sky.
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Gibbs frowned as he sanded the wood of another of his beloved boats.
"Did I do the wrong thing by sending them there?" He asked himself.
"No, you didn't," came the answer. "You didn't."
Hey peeps!
This is my first NCIS fanfic: and with TIVA!!! I hope you like it!
Please R&R so that when I write more I can make them even better.
Thanks!
Xanthemj