Burn Notice/NCIS/Firefly ficbit: Three, Two, One, Boom
Three, Two, One, Boom [Burn Notice/NCIS/Firefly, Fiona Glenanne/Ziva David, PG, 324 words. A fandom_stocking ficbit for lyssie. Originally posted here. Beta thanks to athenejen.]
Ziva checks her watch and nods, and Fi presses the tiny jury-rigged trigger she's holding. They stand shoulder to shoulder staring up at the sky - it's deep turquoise, a beautiful sky for a harsh planet - and Fi counts down from five under her breath.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Boom.
There's a flash of brilliant white in the sky above them, and two seconds later the sound hits the planet. That's one more Alliance ship that won't be hunting down decent folk who want nothing more than to live their lives in peace.
"There's nothing much more satisfying in the 'verse than a good explosion," Fi says, brushing her hands off. A job well done. She'll have to contact Captain Reynolds later, let him know the danger's over.
"I don't know," Ziva says, head tilted to one side in consideration. She's almost as filthy as Fi - they're both covered in oil and soot and traces of the reddish dust that's everywhere on this planet - but no amount of dirt can hide that she is stunning. Fi's barely been able to concentrate ever since Mal introduced them yesterday. "Ziva has some useful skills," he'd told her. Turned out to be an understatement. Fi's not ashamed to admit that this job would have failed without Ziva's flair for improvisation and her accuracy with a pistol.
She'd thought Ziva would be more impressed with their finished result, though. They packed the explosive so precisely that, even though they'd barely been able to scrounge up enough to do the job, there's little more than powder falling out of the sky. Fi considers Ziva carefully. "I would have thought that if anyone would appreciate a finely set and executed explosion, it would be you," she says.
"Oh, I do. Very much. I just appreciate other things too," Ziva says, and the way she looks Fi up and down doesn't leave Fi in any doubt as to what Ziva's appreciating.
//
Ziva checks her watch and nods, and Fi presses the tiny jury-rigged trigger she's holding. They stand shoulder to shoulder staring up at the sky - it's deep turquoise, a beautiful sky for a harsh planet - and Fi counts down from five under her breath.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Boom.
There's a flash of brilliant white in the sky above them, and two seconds later the sound hits the planet. That's one more Alliance ship that won't be hunting down decent folk who want nothing more than to live their lives in peace.
"There's nothing much more satisfying in the 'verse than a good explosion," Fi says, brushing her hands off. A job well done. She'll have to contact Captain Reynolds later, let him know the danger's over.
"I don't know," Ziva says, head tilted to one side in consideration. She's almost as filthy as Fi - they're both covered in oil and soot and traces of the reddish dust that's everywhere on this planet - but no amount of dirt can hide that she is stunning. Fi's barely been able to concentrate ever since Mal introduced them yesterday. "Ziva has some useful skills," he'd told her. Turned out to be an understatement. Fi's not ashamed to admit that this job would have failed without Ziva's flair for improvisation and her accuracy with a pistol.
She'd thought Ziva would be more impressed with their finished result, though. They packed the explosive so precisely that, even though they'd barely been able to scrounge up enough to do the job, there's little more than powder falling out of the sky. Fi considers Ziva carefully. "I would have thought that if anyone would appreciate a finely set and executed explosion, it would be you," she says.
"Oh, I do. Very much. I just appreciate other things too," Ziva says, and the way she looks Fi up and down doesn't leave Fi in any doubt as to what Ziva's appreciating.
//