DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first Jenny/Ziva fic that I wrote was this Thanksgiving drabble, so I thought I'd continue the Jenny/Ziva Thanksgiving tradition. Many thanks to abby_forever for beta'ing this for me. She's the best.
SPOILERS: Set very early Season 3 - or possibly mid-season-ish.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SEQUEL: To Fighting Their Fights
Giving Their Thanks
By Jaina
"Your American holidays do not make sense."
"Oh?" Abby asked distractedly. Holidays always seemed to bring out the nut-jobs, and this one was proving to be no exception. She was swamped with evidence from several ongoing cases.
"You still celebrate a holiday that was made possible by a group of people that you eventually slaughtered, after taking their kindness. It does not seem right."
Abby paused, looking up from the conclusions that she was writing into her report. "You have a point." She squinted in Ziva's general direction. "But, why do you care?"
"I-" Ziva stopped in mid-sentence. "I was invited to a Thanksgiving dinner, so I researched your holiday to discover what it was about."
"Oh?" Abby looked up, no longer distracted. The look on her face was knowing. "So Gibbs invited you to spend Thanksgiving at his place?"
Ziva seemed surprised by the question, but shook her head. "No, he did not."
"Tony," Abby asked with a hint of mischief.
Ziva pinned Abby with a pointed glare.
"You know that I would not have said yes to Gibbs or Tony."
"McGee?" Abby offered with a teasing grin.
Ziva came as close to rolling her eyes as Abby had ever seen her.
Abby laughed. She couldn't help it. Teasing Ziva when they were alone had become a fun hobby that held just enough of an edge of danger to keep it interesting. She tending to refrain from treating Ziva any differently when the boys were around because neither one of them wanted to explain how they had reached their understanding. It was something private, between them, and not to be subjected to Tony's ribbing or McGee's misunderstanding.
"So what else did you discover when you started researching Thanksgiving, besides the fact that we suck at keeping our promises to allies when it doesn't suit us any more," Abby asked facetiously.
Ziva hissed in a breath, and Abby wished she could have bitten back the words. She forgets sometimes that Ziva's position was, if not tentative, than definitely very fluid.
But Ziva doesn't respond to her comment. Instead she walked past Abby, leaned up against the counter where Abby was working and pushed herself up on it. Her legs dangled over the edge, her boots kicking erratically in the air until she looked over at Abby and her feet stilled.
"She invited me to Thanksgiving dinner." Her voice was a whisper, barely audible and Abby knew why. There were cameras in her lab and if word of this ever got out, it would not be her career or even Ziva's that would be first in the line of fire.
"You're going," Abby said softly, her words halfway between a statement and a question.
"Mmm," Ziva nodded the affirmative.
"What are you taking," Abby asked in a more normal, casual tone.
"Taking?" Ziva repeated.
"It's traditional to bring something to dinner. A side dish or some good booze," Abby added.
Ziva straightened. With a slow smirk, she hopped off of the counter. She surprised Abby with a kiss on the cheek. "You are a genius, Abigail," Ziva called over her shoulder as she strutted out of the room.
"I know." And with a quick grin of her own, Abby turned to apply her own genius to the evidence report she was currently completing. Maybe she would actually be done before the holiday started.
The dark wooden door opened quickly, as if she'd been expecting Ziva's knock. Which she had. She'd been impatiently waiting for her to get there all evening.
Jenny had gone to the effort of preparing the meal herself. She wasn't the best cook or the most frequent, preferring to let the maid take care of meals most evenings, unless she'd given the woman the night off. But tonight was different.
Tonight she wanted to celebrate this evening with Ziva, and she wanted it to be special. She'd even gone so far as to dig out her mother's old recipes and tried her best to follow the directions.
She didn't think it had all turned all too badly, but she had still felt more nervous than she had in a long time, as she'd anticipated Ziva's arrival.
Now maybe she could relax.
Ziva smiled as she opened the door, looking just a little sultry. It filled Jenny with warmth, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding as she took in the sight of Ziva in her dark leather jacket.
"Come in," She said, priding herself on managing to keep her voice steady. Ziva always had a knack for driving her crazy and making her want to lose control.
Ziva stepped inside and Jenny shut the door behind her carefully. Ziva waited until she heard the sound of the lock clicking into place behind her before she turned and reached for Jenny.
Jenny's hand slid around her waist, pulling her gently closer as Ziva's fingers thread through her hair. Slowly, tortuously, Ziva lowered her lips to Jenny's, until they met. It had been over a week since they'd had a moment to see one another outside of work and the absence had been hard on them both.
Ziva pulled away slowly, tipping her head forward to rest gently against Jenny's.
"Have I told you that I'm glad you're growing your hair out again," She asked in a low voice.
Jenny pulled back slightly in surprise. "No, you hadn't." She smiled. "I didn't realize you had a preference."
Ziva wrinkled her nose. "I do not mind it short - it is still beautiful, but I love to be able to run my fingers through it." She grimaced. "Although perhaps it would be better if you left it short. It can be very...distracting."
Jenny smothered her own laugh against Ziva's lips, as she kissed the younger woman again. She allowed her hands to slide up the younger woman's body, caressing gentle curves, and pulling her closer.
"Are you saying that your mind isn't always completely on the job, Officer David," Jenny teased her lightly.
"Only when a certain Director is trying her best to distract me," Ziva mumbled as she ducked her head to press a kiss to Jenny's collarbone.
"Mmm," Jenny murmured, "No comment."
Ziva chuckled. "I thought not."
Reluctantly, Jenny stepped away. "I cooked."
Ziva stared.
"Dinner," Jenny elaborated, "For you."
"Should I be worried," Ziva asked quickly. She once had an opportunity to taste her former partner's culinary offerings; it had not been an experience she had yearned to repeat.
"It's my mother's recipe," Jenny said softly.
A former girlfriend had once accused Ziva of lacking tact. It was, Ziva had decided at the time, a valid accusation. However, what she lacked in tact she more than made up for in the art of deception and distraction.
"I brought something." She lifted the bottle in her hand. "I heard that it was tradition to bring something for dinner."
"Oh," Jenny seemed almost surprised by the suddenly more formal tone. "Thank you." She took the bottle of liquor from Ziva. It only took one glance to know what it held.
"Patron." Jenny raised an eyebrow.
Ziva looked at her from beneath lowered lids. She wore a hint of a smirk, but didn't comment.
"Are you trying to get my clothes off, Officer David," Jenny asked wryly.
Ziva's smirk was definite now - and definitely very seductive - Jenny noted.
"I do remember the effect that tequila seems to have on you," Ziva whispered into her ear, her breath warm enough to send shivers through Jenny, as her hands slipped up under Jenny's shirt.
The coldness of Ziva's fingers against her hot skin made Jenny jump, and she glared momentarily, before she relaxed into the touch.
"I cooked," Jenny complained futilely even as she pushed Ziva back against the door.
"We can eat - dinner -" Ziva smirked again, "later."
As Jenny laughed, and gave in, responding enthusiastically to Ziva's every touch, she marveled at how much she felt for the young woman in front of her. Ziva was amazing, and she was a very lucky woman.
It was something to be thankful for.
The End