A GOOD OLD AMERICAN CUSTOM
By
Ashleigh Anpilova
DiNozzo tries to initiate Ziva into a new custom and Jenn attempts to take advantage of it. Gibbs escapes to visit Ducky.
An established relationship story.
Written: December 2005. Word count: 733.
"What's that, Tony?" Ziva asked, looking at DiNozzo through slitted eyes.
"This? Oh, just a good old American custom," DiNozzo drawled, moving closer to Ziva until he had her backed against the filing cabinet.
"That piece of greenery is an American custom?" Ziva sounded surprised.
"Not exactly. But this is." DiNozzo grabbed Ziva, held the large bunch of mistletoe over her head, and kissed her soundly.
"My turn I think, Tony," a voice from behind him said.
DiNozzo whirled round. "Ma - Director Shepard." He gaped at her.
"Well, I believe you did say it was 'a good old American custom,'" Jenny said sweetly.
After casting a swift look at Gibbs who sat at his desk watching the game being played, DiNozzo swallowed hard, held the green and cream bunch above Jenny's head and kissed her, albeit with less passion than he'd kissed Ziva.
"May I?" she asked, holding out her hand once DiNozzo had released her.
"Huh? Oh, sure." DiNozzo broke off a sprig of the mistletoe and handed it over. Gibbs groaned silently and willed his phone to ring. It dared to disobey him.
"Jethro," the scent of her heavy, familiar perfume infiltrated his senses.
"Director Shepard." He stood up, ignoring the frown the crossed her face. She wanted formality; she would get it.
"It's your turn, I believe, to fulfill DiNozzo's custom." She smiled, held out the mistletoe for him to take, tilted her head back, and waited.
Gibbs realized that he had no choice but to kiss Jenny. A glance over her shoulder showed him that they were being watched not only by DiNozzo and Ziva, but also by McGee and Abby, who had suddenly appeared. For some reason, the logic of which would no doubt be beyond him, while being crystal clear to his Forensics' Expert, both of Abby's pigtails sported a small bunch of the greenery Gibbs held in his hand.
Putting one arm around Jenny's shoulders and holding him firmly away from him, he dangled the mistletoe over her head, lowered his head and kissed her twice - once on each cheek. As he released her, only he saw the pure fury that flashed through her eyes.
Over the sound of the sudden applause that emanated from his team, he said softly, ensuring a smile touched his lips, "Don't play games with me, Jenn. You know you can't win." She opened her mouth to say something, as the sound of his cell phone was heard.
Better late than never, he thought as he grabbed it. "Gibbs." A muffled half-silence greeted him. Unsure what was going on, but never one not to take advantage of a gift, Gibbs spoke again. "Okay, thanks. Yeah, I'll do that." Nodding to Jenny, he strode past his team and headed for the elevators.
As he passed Abby, whose back was slightly turned away from the group, he saw that she had her hand in the pocket of her lab coat, and her pleased pussy-cat smile on her lips. That was another one he owed her.
The door leading into Autopsy swished open. "Dr. Mallard, may I see you for a moment, please?"
Ducky glanced up from his desk and stood up. "Of course Agent Gibbs," he said formally, matching Jethro's tone. His lover's voice may have been official, but the dark blue eyes weren't; at least they weren't to someone who had been reading them for over twenty-five years.
As he limped towards the door, he caught sight of Jimmy Palmer's face. Concern was written all over it; he could understand why, the only time Jethro resorted to Ducky's title was when he was angry, though concerned for Ducky's well being. Ducky patted the young man's arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and left the room.
Jethro guided him into the elevator, followed him in and let the door close behind them. Ducky stood silently waiting as Jethro pushed the button to send the elevator up, and then seconds later stopped it.
"What are you doing, Jethro?" Ducky enquired mildly.
"Just indulging myself in a dose of 'good old American custom,'" Jethro said, a smile lighting up his face.
From behind his back he pulled a slightly drooping spring of mistletoe, caught Ducky's arm and tugged him gently into an embrace. He slipped the hand holding the mistletoe into Ducky's hair, encouraged him to tilt his head back, and kissed him soundly - on the lips.
"Ah, Jethro," Ducky said, a few moments later. "I believe this is a custom that should be repeated many times.
And it was.
Then.
Later.
And in the years to come.
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