#more stuff that comes across my dash is ellie coded

[badlydrawn-oocdnd]

Korrin moodboard but it's whatever I had tagged on my blog that I could feasibly stick in a post

@kortalicious

[indestinatus]

S’mores Code

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 6

↳ prompt: Bonfire - rated T (911 words)

summary: In a gathering around the bonfire in Tony and Ziva’s home, Ellie learns how to make s’mores - and about the meaning behind them. 

A/N: A dash of Ellick for Ellick lovers *sprinkles stolen glances and shy smiles*. This is set after S17, in what I like to call “one of many family gatherings” :’)

read it on AO3 🔥

The bonfire crackled right in front of her, its flames dancing high towards the night sky and warming her cold, numb fingers. It was already turning quite late and the chilly air made her shiver, but Ellie didn’t feel as affected by the cold as she should be—there were too many friends around her for that. 

Tony and Ziva had invited everyone for a meetup at their home, and dinner had easily turned into conversation around a makeshift bonfire in their backyard. Their children now ran after McGee’s twins while Ziva shared this crazy story about a container and burned bills and everyone laughed with her, passing beer bottles and sausages in sticks to cook over the flames.  

“He knows,” Tony’s voice right next to her made Ellie jump, she hadn’t seen him come closer at all.

“What?” she frowned.

Tony chuckled, then motioned with his beer to the other side of the bonfire. “He knows you’re staring. For a trained special agent, you’re doing a pretty bad job at it, Bishop.”

Ellie felt her cheeks burn way more than was acceptable for a bonfire, her heart racing when she realized she had been caught red-handed. 

“I’m not staring,” she chuckled weakly. “There’s a bonfire. I’m watching the bonfire.”

Tony took a sip of his beer and looked at her, his eyes sparkling. 

“Really?” he smirked. “Is it the same level as hotness, you think?”

She felt the heat creep up her neck and couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Nick again. He looked just as attractive as ever - broad figure and carefree laughter - but tonight he’d added an old flannel to his look that was a really brainkiller. She couldn’t stop staring, Tony was right, and it was all because of that damn shirt. 

Nick’s eyes met hers then, and Ellie quickly looked away, even more embarrassed now that he probably knew she'd been studying him all night. Well, she couldn’t really do anything about it—it was as if he was this magnet, pulling her attention whenever he entered a room. 

“C’mon.” Tony bumped against her shoulder. “I’m just messing with you,” he offered a smile. “Don’t know why you two are still running away from it, though.”

Ellie chewed the inside of her cheek and tried not to look at Nick again, a task that was making her annoyed by how difficult it was. 

“We have rules against it, Tony,” she replied with a bitter taste on her mouth. 

“Yeah, and I’m not married to Ziva.”

Ellie looked at Tony then, narrowing her eyes at how he smirked. 

“Didn’t you ‘run away’ from it for years before that, though?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

He took a minute to answer, and she didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to his wife for a split second before his eyes sparkled and he turned back at her again. 

“Bishop,” said Tony, downing the remaining of his beer. “Let me teach you something. Pass me some crackers.”

Ellie’s eyebrows raised at the question, a bit surprised by his willingness, but did what he’d ask nonetheless. 

“So.” Tony grabbed two crackers and held them in front of her, an excited smile twitching at his lips as he did so. “Rule number twelve is, in fact, the most misunderstood rule of all. Well, right next to fifty-five.”

“Fifty-five?” Ellie’s brow pulled in. “I don’t know if I know that one.”

“Yeah… it’s better if you don’t, actually.” Tony pursed his lips. “Now focus. The marshmallow—” he said as he took a toasted marshmallow hanging from a stick over the fire and put it atop a cracker, “—is work. Work… late office hours, boring phone calls and sometimes, if you’re lucky, somewhat interesting interrogations... but work.”

“Huh,” Ellie huffed, trying to understand his line of thinking. 

“The chocolate…” Tony put a piece of chocolate just on top of it, presenting it to her. “Is everything but. The good, juicy stuff, huh? Desert, let’s put it that way. Sweet cocoa wonders for you to explore—”

“Gross,” Ellie interrupted.

Tony chuckled under her judgemental stare. “My point is… and pay attention now, that’s the important part.”

Ellie crossed her arms, preparing for the ‘great conclusion’. “Yes?”

Tony watched her for a moment, making sure he had her attention before continuing. 

“The ratio,” he said, putting the top cracker and smashing down its new ‘sandwich’. “Only with a good marshmallow-chocolate ratio will you ever get the perfect s’more, two halves of crackers mashing it all up together in a delicious goo of years of sexual tension.”

Ellie couldn’t hold back the laughter then, saying, “Yep. You’re crazy.”

Tony smiled broadly, giving her the s’more. “I’m also very wise.”

Ellie cast him a small smile, accepting it. She took a bite, the hot marshmallow and sweet chocolate melting on her tongue.

“Tastes good,” she admitted, suddenly noticing she felt more relaxed.

“I know.” Tony beamed. “I’m best known as the S’mores King.”

Ellie laughed then, and as she looked across the bonfire again, Nick was already staring—a wide, genuine smile directed at her that made her warm way more than any fire. 

“Daddy?” Tali’s voice came from next to her, and Ellie turned to find her tugging Tony’s shirt.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he asked, his hand patting her boot. 

“Hm, your s’mores.”

Tony glanced at Ellie, a proud smile cracking on his lips. “Do you want more?”

“No,” Tali shook her head, then pointed to the marshmallows still on the bonfire. “They’re burning.”