Disclaimer: Only people who are scared of lawyers include disclaimers. Good thing I'm a sheep who doesn't own NCIS. Take that lawyers!
Spoilers: Specific one for Designated Target.
Summary: Aunt Nettie just couldn't keep the good news to herself.
Ziva stormed out of the elevator into the squad room in a manner that made Tony wonder if hiding under his desk for a few hours would be a viable option for his morning. He carefully began collecting all heavy and/or pointy objects from his desk and placing them in his top drawer. He'd just managed to conceal his letter opener when she swung her backpack over her desk with enough force to knock her computer monitor to the floor.
Gibbs glanced at the technological victim and nodded. "I know the feeling."
"I am not angry at the computer, Gibbs."
"You are until I get to the elevator."
Tony jumped out of his chair when Ziva disappeared behind her desk to pick up the monitor. "Coffee, boss? Hey, I could get that for you."
"No," Gibbs leaned toward him and lowered his voice, "you get to stay here and fix whatever you did."
"What makes you think this is my fault?" Tony replied, offended.
Gibbs glanced over his shoulder, drawing attention back to Ziva, who was now reattaching cables like she was practicing stabbing. "Because she never gets that mad at McGee." He disappeared into the elevator before Tony could come up with a counterargument that didn't involve bringing up the fact that he'd rescued Gibbs from drowning a few short weeks previously. Tony had promised himself he wouldn't beg for recognition, but was a little 'thank you' and a reprieve from headsmacking too much to ask? You yank a guy out of a sunken car and drag his ass to safety and he just abandons you to a dangerous assassin who…
Tony suddenly remembered why he needed to concentrate on the circumstances at hand. He used his chair to create a barrier between his desk and the filing cabinet to block the easiest route to direct physical harm before saying, "So…you, uh…well…"
Ziva didn't allow him to stammer for long, locking her elbows as she leaned over her desk. "I have been on the phone since 11 o'clock last night. Would you like to know why?"
He decided to make a last ditch effort at diffusing the situation, "Because you're supplementing your income with a new telemarketing career?"
He flinched as she narrowed her eyes. "Because when it is 11 at night in Washington, it is 6 in the morning in Tel Aviv, and that is the time that my father thinks it is acceptable to start calling people." She walked slowly around her desk. "After almost thirty minutes on the phone with him – the longest conversation we have had in quite some time, I might add – I spent two hours talking with my mother. Any idea what we discussed?"
"You have a mother?" He withdrew into the corner behind his desk as she advanced dangerously. "I mean…what were you talking about?"
She yanked her cell phone open and said in a deep voice, "This is Ziva's husband and I don't want you calling her anymore." She snapped the phone shut and cocked her arm like she was going to chuck it at him before apparently thinking better of it. She confined herself to an angry, phoneless gesture. "Sound familiar?"
"Uh…vaguely."
"Well, apparently the only part of your tirade that Aunt Nettie retained was the part about being my husband. She called my parents demanding to know when I had gotten married. The news was naturally very surprising to them. Now what was surprising to me was the fact that my answering machine could not handle all the messages from various friends and relatives in Israel congratulating me on my wedding and accusing me of forgetting them."
"You, uh…" He forced himself not to grin as he pictured Ziva explaining over and over again that there had been a misunderstanding. "You've been on the phone all night with these people?"
She began pacing. "You have no idea what that means. I did not think I was ever going to get it through Aunt Nettie's head that it was all a mistake. My old college roommate wanted to know why she was not invited to the wedding. My cousin who married a rabbi assumed that I was keeping it secret because I had married a man who was not Jewish and I was ashamed. My uncle took an hour to tell me he had picked out the horse he was going to give me as a wedding present. What am I supposed to do with a horse?"
"I thought every little girl wanted a pony." He focused his efforts on not smiling again, a task which took less diligence than he would have thought, as she shoved his chair out of the way. "Whoa, whoa. Hold up." She complied with his request as he seized her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Where'd you get all these relatives?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" she countered, pulling away from his grasp.
"Well, up to now you had Director Daddy David and…" he briefly contemplated adding her dead siblings to the list, but decided it would be in poor taste. He continued with hardly a pause, "And that was it. Now you've suddenly got aunts and uncles and cousins and a mom!"
"Why are you acting like this is some big surprise?"
"You just never really talk about these things. So do you guys have big David family reunions where you threaten each other with your crazy ninja Moussad skills?"
She folded her arms tightly, a series of odd expressions crossing her face before she returned to her own desk and sat. "I don't want to have a conversation about my family with you."
"Hey! Contraction!"
"Tony…"
"I was just saying…" He inched over to her desk, where she was writing something on a piece of paper. When he arrived in front of her, she silently handed it to him. "What's this?"
"The address where you should send the flowers."
"Aunt Nettie, right?"
"Yes."
He settled on the edge of her desk. "So how is she related to you?"
"I told you, I do not want to discuss my family."
He leaned forward. "Don't like talking about personal things? Funny, because I'm in the mood to hear all about this random uncle who wants you give you a horsie. Or maybe we could get into Mama Ziva's disappointment that you haven't snagged yourself a husband yet."
She kept her gaze fixed on the pen she was twirling between her fingers. "Tony…"
"What, you don't like people pushing you to talk about personal things? Think that everyone should open up to you while you get to keep all your little secrets?"
She finally looked up, her eyes wide in alarm. "What?"
He winked and sauntered back to his own desk. By the time Gibbs returned, Tony was poking his credit card information into a flower delivery website, enjoying the silence across the aisle.