He busies himself with the coffee machine as he listens for the shower to stop running. His mind wanders to the slight few mornings that Kate has spent at his place. The mornings after late night paperwork slumber parties, dinner parties, birthday parties, even the odd sleepover after a night out at the local bar. And somehow she'd always managed to wheedle him out of his own bed every night.
He'd always wake up earlier than her, like clockwork. From his awkward position on the couch, he would disentangle the mess that was his limbs and linen and look to his bedroom door to see if Kate would, for once, defy history and be in the shower before he had a chance. When she would finally emerge from the bedroom, she would always wear his bathrobe, a concept he did not understand as it was several sizes too big and the extended sleeves gave her the appearance of an innocent child. But like so many other of her quirks, he learned to appreciate without questioning.
When he hears the puttering from the bathroom slowly die out, he remembers how she looks after she's fresh from the shower. For a fleeting moment, he half expects to see her clad in his old robe before remembering he'd picked hers up last night. As he remarks on her perfect timing - a first for them, if he's not mistaken - he finds himself reflecting that his robe was more becoming, and he forces himself to hold his tongue.
-
Kate was actually enjoying her bath. It had allowed her to relax, take a few breaths without fearing they may be her last, and bask in the beauty that was... hot water.
The fact that had surprised Kate the most was not that DiNozzo actually owned a bath, but that he hadn't walked in on her, or even pretended to walk in on her. At least not yet. Maybe he did have some compassion after all.
She slowly let her body sink below the waterline, feeling the heat begin to spread throughout her entire body.
Suddenly, she heard the door begin to creak open. Oh well, at least I anticipated.
However, only a crack appeared between the door and the jamb, small enough so that only an arm could slip through, brandishing a glass filled with dark red wine.
"For the pain. Your favourite," Tony's voice muffled through the timber. He placed it down on the tiled floor with a sharp clink.
Kate stared bewildered at the glass for a moment.
Her favourite? Tony knew her favourite wine? Surely he couldn't. She'd been to, at most, two restaurants with he and the rest of the team where she'd ordered wine. No way could Tony remember exactly what wine she'd ordered. Anthony DiNozzo struggled to remember the names of women he'd met the night before.
Let alone the fact he actually had a bottle of it in his apartment. She'd never picked Tony for a guy to enjoy a good glass of red wine. Beers, yes. Even the odd spirit, yes. But not wine. And not Jacob's Creek.
She slowly lifted herself from the water, still covered in bubbles, wrapped a small towel around her middle, stepped out of the bath and walked to the door. She picked up the glass and gently sniffed it.
God, it even smelt like a Jacob's Creek Shiraz.
She took a small sip.
It was a Jacob's Creek Shiraz.
-
"Shower's free," she calls, walking back into his bedroom.
"Yeah, hot water's not, Katie. You could've drowned half of Africa in there," he calls back with a smile.
Kate sniggers and begins wrapping her hair in a towel.
Tony quickly watches as she twists the fabric around and around and flings it up and over her head, forming an instant turban-slash-beehive-like structure. It seems to Tony that women are instilled with the skill to create such a structure at birth, and that men lack that one protein in their DNA that was necessary to do so. He knew no male that could do it and no female that couldn't.
"Coffee's done when you're finished."
Kate quickly pulls on the pair of cream slacks and white collared shirt that Tony has set out on the bed for her. She smiles at his gesture, though notices he's assembled a completely mismatching outfit from her wardrobe at home.
At the moment though, she couldn't care less. The thought is there.
She pulls on the grey sweater from her bag, wincing as it presses against her upper arm, and the pair of black slip-on shoes, laughing at her changing of tone from head to toe in the mirror.
The smell of Tony's freshly brewed coffee, Italian scent, she notes, finally wafts through the room and she finds herself inexplicably drawn out the door.
Two mugs are already steaming with the dark liquid on the kitchen bench, along with a half-naked Tony scribbling something in a newspaper. He is sitting in his jeans with his t-shirt is flung over the back of the couch.
"Brewing coffee that much work, DiNozzo?"
"Heating device."
"What?"
"Ten down. Heating device."
"Oh." Kate smiles. Coffee and crosswords. "How about... radiator?" she says, taking a seat opposite him.
"Five letters."
She thinks for a second. "Rdatr."
Tony looks up from the newspaper and flashes her a smile before penciling it in.
Toothpaste by hewey