“That was great, Ziva,” McGee said leaning his weight back his chair, so as to stop himself swaying from the overwhelming sense that he had eaten too much. He smiled happily at a beaming Ziva who sat immediately to his right. Seated just across the table from him were an equally contented Abby Scuito and Jimmy Palmer, each of them rubbing their stomachs with pride.
“Thank you, McGee. It was a family recipe. Though if I told you what it was, I would have to kill you.” Ziva’s eyes glinted in the overhead light, and there was something in the look she gave McGee that made him 100% positive that she wasn’t kidding. He was absolutely certain she would be able to pull it off without discovery, but oddly he couldn’t quite shake the rising feelings of intrigue and excitement at the prospect of Ziva coming at him with weapons held in her extremely capable hands.
“I agree with McGee, Ziva. You cook a mean chicken curry, and the added oysters were a nice touch,” Gibbs said from the head of the table.
“I aim to please,” Ziva purred from the end of the table. McGee had to look twice, but she was sure Ziva had just given him the smallest of winks from the corner of her eye. He glanced over to Abby, and from the look on her face, she had seen it too. McGee chose to ignore it and instead focus intently on the various empty plates spread around the table, only to be interrupted by Ziva asking an unimaginable question.
“Would anyone like desert?” There were various moans and groans in reply, but all getting across the general consensus that if they were to consume anymore of Ziva’s wonderful cooking, the possibility of spontaneous combustion may become very real.
“Are you sure? I have raspberry roulade?” she said, teasing their already tempted minds. Palmer especially looked like his own brain was having a private battle with his stomach at the mention of the delicious roulade.
“I don’t think any of us could eat any more,” Gibbs said from across the table from a slightly disappointed but on the whole content Ziva.
“If you insist,” she said, standing up to clear their plates, each one spotless. McGee automatically stood up to help her, piling his own plate onto Gibbs’ adjacent one while doing so.
“Don’t you dare, McGee,” Ziva said, quickly snapping her head in his direction. “I can clear my own plates up, thank you very much; and if you break one, your life will not be worth living. They were my Mother’s.”
“You cooked us a lovely meal, Ziva, it’s only fair that I should do something to repay you for it. Besides, I won’t break any of the china; you can trust me.”
Ziva’s eyes narrowed as she weighed up the positives and negatives of having an extra pair of hands to do the clearing up. Deciding that the pros outweighed the cons, she let him continue with no further queries. Abby began to stand up as well, but immediately sat back down again after a glare from Ziva.
“What is this? Does no one think I can clear my own dishes?”
“It’s just that you made us such a lovely dinner, Ziva. We are only trying to help,” Abby said, looking up at her. Ziva’s expression softened somewhat and she smiled.
“Thank you, but this is my dinner party and I will be the hostess.”
There were no more objections as Ziva and McGee proceeded to clear the plates. As they took them away from the table, the general chitchat started up again and the minor dispute was forgotten. McGee and Ziva left the room, followed only by Abby’s watchful eye.
“So, Gibbs, er, I mean, Boss,” Jimmy stuttered from the other end of the table, “Ducky told me that you have a lot of ex-wives?”
***
Story Notes:
Scenes of sexual content.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The night before Boxed In. Ziva throws a dinner party that all but Tony are invited to, and McGee stays behind for a little party of his own with Ziva...
Chapter End Notes:
Scenes of sexual content.