A/N: Yes, I rarely watch NCIS. Yes, I usually just youtube "NCIS Tiva" when I'm too lazy to actually watch all 42 minutes of the show. But I hope you enjoy. =)
Oh, and I have nothing against The Sound of Music (which I also don't own), the beginning is just kinda sorta in Tony's POV.
Disclaimer: How frickin' awesome would it be if I owned the rights to what happened to Tiva?
"Poor Tony, nothing's going right for him today,"
Vending machines are the spawn of the devil. The favoured spawn of the devil. That's right; vending machines are so bad, the devil and his diabolical mistress, Karma, preferred them over movies like The Sound of Music.
Now, that's not to say the cooperative vending machine wasn't a beautiful thing, capable of coaxing a smile from even the grouchiest of bosses in delicious anticipation of their future treat. These vending machines are a species unto their own, so rare it brings tears of joy to the eye when your coins are accepted and the tell-tale clinking and clanking of the snack begins, sending a thrill into anyone, from the most cold-blooded killers to a six year old, innocence shining in his or her wide eyes and alarmingly sticky substances clinging to his or her body.
It was the rest of them you had to watch out for. The ones boasting the widest selection of small, delicious snacks and an eye-popping array of water bottle brands. Aye, these bandits will take your hard-earned change and suck them into their greedy little slots and never deliver the refreshingly cold drink they so blatantly advertise, reducing the most pure-hearted souls in the world to screeching maniacs kicking and suggesting (very crassly) exactly where they wished vending machines would shove the stolen money.
These machines are sadistic, and as a very Special Agent Antony DiNozzo was convinced, they would one day take over the world, enslaving the entire human race in the process.
Taking deep, calming breaths, Tony approached the machine towering menacingly over the brown haired agent. If you tilted your head just right and squinted, you could almost see the devil and Karma settle back to watch the show their darling child always gave.
McGee and Abby watched from McGee's desk, hearts in their throats and clutching each others hands tightly.
"D'you think he'll get it?" Abby whispered hoarsely, popcorn forgotten in her other hand.
"You never know with the NCIS vending machines, Abby," McGee said solemnly, trying his damnedest to not let the forensic scientist know just how much he was enjoying having her almost on his lap. "You sure you want to watch this, right? It could get pretty ugly in here."
Abby scoffed. "Please, McGee. I'm a forensic scientist. I've seen worse than -oh! Oh my gosh! It's starting!"
McGee and Abby watched, enraptured, as Tony prepared to deposit the necessary coins into the slot. Their eyes were glued to the dramatic scene unfolding before them, as Tony jingled the coins in his pocket challengingly, almost daring the machines to reveal their wicked hand.
"What is he doing? Vending machines hate him as it is! Now he's trying to rile it up?" Abby hissed.
"He's trying to impress someone," McGee stated in the simple way a person did when they were telling the truth. "A girl," he clarified at Abby's blank stare.
Understanding dawned on her face. "Ziva."
Sure enough, a quick scan of the NCIS bull pen revealed an amused Ziva sitting with her legs crossed on a chair, watching intently as Tony prepared to do battle.
Aiming a quick wink at Ziva (who felt her smirk get bigger by the minute), Tony brought out the coins, drawing gasps from Abby and McGee, but only a yawn from Ziva. The coins slid easily into the slot, and even Ziva looked mildly interested as Tony's finger lowered onto the keyboard.
Abby's sympathetic groan was drowned out completely by Tony, alternatively cursing loudly at the vending machine, alternatively begging to get his Coke.
Ziva walked up to Tony and slipped in her dollar bill, punched in the correct code for a Coke and handed it to him when it plopped down, smirk firmly in place.
Tony glowered at the can for a few moments, noticing the dew on it, a reaction from the chill of the interior of the vending machine to the warmer air of the NCIS building.
He hated that damn dew.
Then, snatching it out of Ziva's hands, he stalked away. The former Mossad officer followed him with confused eyes, then shrugged and walked back to her desk.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Abby cooed sympathetically as Ziva sat at her desk, looking only slightly puzzled which of course, meant she was utterly confused. "You have no idea what just happened, do you?"
"I am assuming this is what Americans call a 'snit'?"" She pronounced the word carefully, not wanting to get it wrong.
"You're an American now, Ziva," McGee reminded her gently.
"Yes, and the more time I spend as one, the less I understand them – us!" Ziva grumbled, frustrated.
"Aw, well, don't worry too much. That was just a Tony thing," Abby waved her hand in the air dismissively. "You know how much he hates vending machines. Plus, he was trying to impress you."
If ever there was a moment in which a hot beverage should come squirting out of someone's mouth in shock, it would've been now. Sadly, no one had any liquids handy, but the pure astonishment on Ziva's face more than made up for the fact that nobody's was coughing up the rest of the coffee that had gone down the wrong way.
Abby continued, happily oblivious to Ziva's attempts at prying her jaw off the floor. "I don't really understand what brought it on, he should be pretty used to you being better at dealing with vending machines than him by now. Gotta love testosterone, right?"
It wasn't till long after Abby had waved a cheerful goodbye and flounced back to her lab that Ziva David was able to force a coherent sound out of her mouth.
"What?"
She was vaguely pleased she had managed to stick to the English language as opposed to launching a tirade in Hebrew against men in general.
"Well, think about it, Ziva," McGee explained easily; he had been waiting patiently for Ziva to get over the initial shock and as a result had time to decide on the best way to explain the situation to her. "The day before yesterday Tony bragged about some martial arts class he'd taken a while and then you kicked his ass at sparring practice. Then yesterday at lunch, he held a door open for an elderly lady while you helped her put her groceries in her car; so you showed him up again. And now the vending machine, whom he's warred with many times, as we all know, refused him a Coke but they spat one out as soon you asked."
"Stop talking about vending machines as if they're real!" Ziva groused. "It is creepy."
"Lemme finish. Knowing Tony, he'll probably do other things to impress you. Please, Ziva," he turned to her, eyes as pleading as a child warding off ideas of the monster in his closet. "Before someone gets hurt, I beg of you, stop the madness."
"I believe I am developing a migraine," Ziva said faintly. "Wait just a minute. What do you mean, 'win my respect'? Tony has my respect already!
McGee's mouth opened, ready to warn her of the delighted Tony grinning behind her desk. Tony's eyes narrowed as he saw the NCIS agent about to speak and he made various violent gestures that would have stumped anyone at charades, but McGee got the message. Keep her talking about me.
Quickly, he debated merits. On one hand, if he let Ziva continue, Tony would probably stop doing stupid things to impress Ziva, thus not forcing Ziva to shoot something (or someone) in frustration. However, if he let Ziva continue, she might come up with a glowing opinion on Tony and the Special Agentwould never let anyoneforget it.
He opened his mouth, about to say something neutral that would finish the conversation, when Ziva plowed on like she hadn't even noticed his internal debate. Which, in all fairness, she probably hadn't.
"Tony is a good man, a loyal friend, and a great partner because of it!"
DiNozzo's grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Almost as if she could sense his amusement, she added "A bit juvenile, yes, and at times I just want to strangle him, ugh, and the endless movie references! Those are annoying traits, but they make him Tony. I do not understand why he would want to earn back respect he never lost!" She mumbled something in Hebrew as she turned back to her computer, still frowning.
If the mumbling wasn't something cursing the idiocy of men, McGee would eat his badge.
"Why, thank you, Probie," Tony grinned as he ambled back to his desk. "Didn't know you felt that way."
Ziva yelped a very un-Ziva-like yelp and stared at the senior agent. Utter horror crossed her features.
"Grab your gear!" Gibbs called, breezing through he bullpen, unaware of how close Ziva was to showing Tony exactly how lethal ex-assassins were, especially those trained by the Mossad. The three obediently got their equipment (Ziva more reluctantly, very willing to let Tony pass her) and Tony fairly sauntered out of the bullpen at Gibbs' heels.
"You meant for him to hear that," McGee said, watching Ziva's face carefully.
"I – you cannot prove that!" Surprise coloured her voice.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? So what was with that yelp? It was a second too late for you to really be surprised."
Ziva was quiet as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and double-checked her weapons. "You don't think he noticed?"
McGee smiled inwardly. The two cared so much about each other, it was almost beautiful. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he's floating on cloud nine right now."
"Cloud..." Ziva furrowed her brow. "That is a figure of speech, yes?"
"Yup."
"Hurry up, Probies!" Gibbs' called, timing impeccable once again. "The hell you doing in there? Playin' grab-ass?"
McGee watched in horror as Tony's smug smile vanished, already anticipating the steps required to soothe his ego without looking like he was soothing his ego.
Ziva remained oblivious to McGee's rather pale pallor as she followed Gibbs into the elevator. After all, why would Tony worry if she and McGee were playing grab-ass? It wasn't as though Tony had feelings for her, right?
Psh, yeah, why would Tony get annoyed? XP
So, can I make this better? Please, tell me what you think.