NCIS fic: "With Sweetness" - G [Tony/Ziva]
TITLE: With Sweetness
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: Tony takes Ziva to taste gelato.
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Fluff. (You will almost certainly need the insulin.)
DISCLAIMER: NCIS and its characters aren't mine and I'm making no money from this venture.
NOTES: For callmesandy's fandom_stocking - it was too long for a comment!
With Sweetness
It takes longer than Ziva likes for them to find a parking space in Georgetown. Yet even in the sweltering summer heat, Tony is insistent as he parks the car and climbs out, all long-limbed energy and enthusiasm as he comes around the car.
"I do not see why we must stop here for ice-cream, Tony."
"Well, two reasons. Firstly, it's not ice-cream, it's gelato. And second, it's obvious you've never had Dolcezza gelato, because otherwise you wouldn't be asking why."
He is, she often thinks, like a puppy, except that even smacking him across the nose does not always settle him. Cupping a hand under her elbow, Tony ushers her away from the car and towards the pedestrian crossing. After two steps, Ziva gently disengages her arm from his hand. Puppy he may be, but that does not mean his touch cannot be dangerous.
Tony doesn't seem to take it amiss, though, merely grinning at her as they pause in front of the white portico of the Chevy Chase Bank, then glancing over his left shoulder as someone guns their SUV in the nearby gas station.
"Not gonna ask what's so special about Dolcezza gelato?"
"I do not see the point in asking. You were going to tell me anyway."
"Well, actually, I was going to make you wait until you actually tasted it, and then telling you would be unnecessary..."
Ziva frowns at him, knowing even as she does so that Tony will merely put on his best 'wide eyed innocent' look - one that, while never quite succeeding at its pretense, still manages to cozen leniency from the observer. There are times when she has suspected that his charm is a weapon as much as his gun or the mind that churns behind the blue eyes.
"Come on," he says, one arm catching her around the waist, propelling her out onto the crossing. And once again, Ziva steps away from his touch, putting distance between them.
This part of town is lazy, quite casual of a summer's afternoon. At this moment, the Smithsonian is probably crammed full of tourists, and the business districts briskly busy, while NCIS headquarters would be full of the movement of purposeful people.
Georgetown is in the mood for summer. It seems to have infected Tony as he saunters alongside her towards the open-fronted store with its white-sashed foldback doors and the people spilling out onto the sidewalk.
"You stopped because you felt like ice-cream?"
"Hey, it's not a crime, Ziva. And it's gelato." He says the word as though the difference is obvious. Perhaps it is - to him. Ziva is simply confused and growing more annoyed by the moment, even if she trusts that Tony will eventually make good. "In fact, on an afternoon like this, not having gelato might conceivably be considered a crime."
Ziva laughs in spite of herself. "I should like to see you explain that to Gibbs."
Her eye skims the people moving in and out of the shop, noting all ages and types, from chattering children arguing over a toy, to a businessman whose undone tie drapes over his shoulders, foregone in the day's muggy warmth.
The menu is on a billboard sitting out in the street, but when she pauses to look more closely at it, Tony steers her away. "I'm buying, so you don't get to choose."
"What if I don't like your choices, Tony?"
"Then I'll eat yours."
"That does not seem very fair!"
"Ziva, just for once, you could trust me."
"I trust you in plenty of things, Tony, but I would prefer to choose my own flavours of ice-cream!"
"Gelato, Ziva! Ge-la-to. You can say it, you know. Three syllables. Easy!"
"Ice-cream is only two."
But she is being petty and they both know it. Tony gives her a look from beneath arched brows and she shakes her head. "I would still prefer to choose my flavours of gelato!"
"Well, too bad, because I'm choosing them for you."
His smugness tempts a retribution - something small and petty, perhaps, such as switching his drawers around one morning when he is late in to work. Ziva puts the thought away - for the moment.
By now, they've shuffled their way along the line and into the shop, coming up to the counter, where Tony charms the shopgirl, orders two two-scoop cups - one with Dulce de Leche and Tahitian Vanilla Bean, the other with Heirloom Apple Cider and Thai Coconut Milk - and pays, smirking at Ziva as though he's got a secret he's unwilling to share.
The shopgirl gets them their flavours and he hands her the first and takes the second for himself. The 'spoon' is a little plastic paddle, brightly pink against the brown and white of her ice-cre-- gelato. Ziva studies it, frowning a little as they step back out into the heat of the day rather than hang around in the noisy interior.
"Don't just stare at it," Tony says, jostling her shoulder, his paddle already going back for a second taste. "Eat!"
Ziva rolls her eyes, but scrapes up a small mound of gelato onto her paddle - the Dulce de Leche - and tastes it.
Soft and smooth, the flavour races along her tongue, rich as fine velvet and delicious. Ziva blinks, the paddle still in her mouth as she looks at Tony, whose expression is smug.
"See?"
She licks off the paddle. "It is very good."
"Told you." He grins. "Be curious. Be spontaneous. And play with your food. Not that I'd play with this food, because it's too good to waste."
"Far too good," she agrees as they wait back at the lights, and lifts the cup the better to see the name emblazoned on its side.
"Dolcezza," murmurs Tony, his mouth quirked to one side, his eyes as warm as the blue sky above them. And Ziva narrows her eyes and does not blush, although her cheeks feel suddenly hot in the summer day.
--
dolcezza - "with sweetness"; colloquially: "darling"
FIN
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: Tony takes Ziva to taste gelato.
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Fluff. (You will almost certainly need the insulin.)
DISCLAIMER: NCIS and its characters aren't mine and I'm making no money from this venture.
NOTES: For callmesandy's fandom_stocking - it was too long for a comment!
With Sweetness
It takes longer than Ziva likes for them to find a parking space in Georgetown. Yet even in the sweltering summer heat, Tony is insistent as he parks the car and climbs out, all long-limbed energy and enthusiasm as he comes around the car.
"I do not see why we must stop here for ice-cream, Tony."
"Well, two reasons. Firstly, it's not ice-cream, it's gelato. And second, it's obvious you've never had Dolcezza gelato, because otherwise you wouldn't be asking why."
He is, she often thinks, like a puppy, except that even smacking him across the nose does not always settle him. Cupping a hand under her elbow, Tony ushers her away from the car and towards the pedestrian crossing. After two steps, Ziva gently disengages her arm from his hand. Puppy he may be, but that does not mean his touch cannot be dangerous.
Tony doesn't seem to take it amiss, though, merely grinning at her as they pause in front of the white portico of the Chevy Chase Bank, then glancing over his left shoulder as someone guns their SUV in the nearby gas station.
"Not gonna ask what's so special about Dolcezza gelato?"
"I do not see the point in asking. You were going to tell me anyway."
"Well, actually, I was going to make you wait until you actually tasted it, and then telling you would be unnecessary..."
Ziva frowns at him, knowing even as she does so that Tony will merely put on his best 'wide eyed innocent' look - one that, while never quite succeeding at its pretense, still manages to cozen leniency from the observer. There are times when she has suspected that his charm is a weapon as much as his gun or the mind that churns behind the blue eyes.
"Come on," he says, one arm catching her around the waist, propelling her out onto the crossing. And once again, Ziva steps away from his touch, putting distance between them.
This part of town is lazy, quite casual of a summer's afternoon. At this moment, the Smithsonian is probably crammed full of tourists, and the business districts briskly busy, while NCIS headquarters would be full of the movement of purposeful people.
Georgetown is in the mood for summer. It seems to have infected Tony as he saunters alongside her towards the open-fronted store with its white-sashed foldback doors and the people spilling out onto the sidewalk.
"You stopped because you felt like ice-cream?"
"Hey, it's not a crime, Ziva. And it's gelato." He says the word as though the difference is obvious. Perhaps it is - to him. Ziva is simply confused and growing more annoyed by the moment, even if she trusts that Tony will eventually make good. "In fact, on an afternoon like this, not having gelato might conceivably be considered a crime."
Ziva laughs in spite of herself. "I should like to see you explain that to Gibbs."
Her eye skims the people moving in and out of the shop, noting all ages and types, from chattering children arguing over a toy, to a businessman whose undone tie drapes over his shoulders, foregone in the day's muggy warmth.
The menu is on a billboard sitting out in the street, but when she pauses to look more closely at it, Tony steers her away. "I'm buying, so you don't get to choose."
"What if I don't like your choices, Tony?"
"Then I'll eat yours."
"That does not seem very fair!"
"Ziva, just for once, you could trust me."
"I trust you in plenty of things, Tony, but I would prefer to choose my own flavours of ice-cream!"
"Gelato, Ziva! Ge-la-to. You can say it, you know. Three syllables. Easy!"
"Ice-cream is only two."
But she is being petty and they both know it. Tony gives her a look from beneath arched brows and she shakes her head. "I would still prefer to choose my flavours of gelato!"
"Well, too bad, because I'm choosing them for you."
His smugness tempts a retribution - something small and petty, perhaps, such as switching his drawers around one morning when he is late in to work. Ziva puts the thought away - for the moment.
By now, they've shuffled their way along the line and into the shop, coming up to the counter, where Tony charms the shopgirl, orders two two-scoop cups - one with Dulce de Leche and Tahitian Vanilla Bean, the other with Heirloom Apple Cider and Thai Coconut Milk - and pays, smirking at Ziva as though he's got a secret he's unwilling to share.
The shopgirl gets them their flavours and he hands her the first and takes the second for himself. The 'spoon' is a little plastic paddle, brightly pink against the brown and white of her ice-cre-- gelato. Ziva studies it, frowning a little as they step back out into the heat of the day rather than hang around in the noisy interior.
"Don't just stare at it," Tony says, jostling her shoulder, his paddle already going back for a second taste. "Eat!"
Ziva rolls her eyes, but scrapes up a small mound of gelato onto her paddle - the Dulce de Leche - and tastes it.
Soft and smooth, the flavour races along her tongue, rich as fine velvet and delicious. Ziva blinks, the paddle still in her mouth as she looks at Tony, whose expression is smug.
"See?"
She licks off the paddle. "It is very good."
"Told you." He grins. "Be curious. Be spontaneous. And play with your food. Not that I'd play with this food, because it's too good to waste."
"Far too good," she agrees as they wait back at the lights, and lifts the cup the better to see the name emblazoned on its side.
"Dolcezza," murmurs Tony, his mouth quirked to one side, his eyes as warm as the blue sky above them. And Ziva narrows her eyes and does not blush, although her cheeks feel suddenly hot in the summer day.
--
dolcezza - "with sweetness"; colloquially: "darling"
FIN