"Running" - Tony/Ziva, still dancing around the issue
disclaimer: So not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed.
notes & warnings: set after 7x21 "Dead Reflection", so mild spoilers for that episode.
Part seven in a series and thus, will make much more sense if you have read the previous ones:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
word count: around 4,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Running
The eye thing didn't let his mind shut down.
Sure, on the outside he concentrated on the report he was trying to finish, but inside, his brain was doing its thing and doing overtime at that.
It just felt too personal to be coincidental, and that got him right where it hurt. Stuff like that had always gotten under his skin.
Of course EJ had disagreed and brushed it off, saying that the killer could have chosen any of the agents to deliver his frozen message, but somehow Tony doubted that it was really just a case of first come, first served, pun fully intended. His gut (which was, admittedly, a lame-ass version of Gibbs's) insisted that he'd been chosen as the recipient because he'd known the former owner of the eye. And that thought was unsettling enough to have him running a list of former friends and coworkers and cross-reference them in his head. Wondering.
He didn't notice how lost in his thoughts he really was though until Ziva switched off his desk lamp and he found himself blinking at the sudden change in lighting. He turned his head, feeling slightly stupefied, and her look of concern didn't help.
"Go home, Tony," she said, and there was an unfamiliar indulgence ringing in her voice. "You've been staring at the same page for more than an hour now."
"Maybe I like that page."
He watched her face soften in a strange way, as if she were thinking about ruffling his hair for a moment, and that look got him so good that he felt himself reeling with the quite unexpected urge to pull her close and bury his face into her stomach until she would, maybe, wrap her arms around him.
He held his breath until the moment passed, then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I think I could use a drink," he sighed and shot her an almost hesitant glance. "You game?"
She made a face, and it was only then that he remembered what had happened the last time they'd had one together.
"I was thinking of something more healthy for the rest of the night," she replied, and that made him grimace in return. "Going for a run, maybe."
The words echoed between them in a way that felt more like a question rather than a statement, and when he looked up to meet her gaze, he found her eyes so carefully guarded that his gut did strange things to him, again.
"I'm game," he said, and even while he turned to power down his computer, he saw her relax.
*** *** ***
They finished their first mile through the dimly lit park in total silence, and that was what made him relax, eventually. The dull thuds of their sneakers on the ground and the even, carefully controlled breaths of Ziva beside him soon turned into a soothing monotone that eventually allowed the tension to seep out of him and pleasantly emptied his mind, a little more with each step.
At least until he noticed it.
After that, his thoughts kept circling around Ziva and the weird ways of their relationship and how it had evolved lately into something so very different from the place they had started out in. And he found that for whatever whacky reason, it had suddenly gotten a lot easier to talk to her. It felt strangely familiar and -- for lack of a better word --- safe. Somehow, he'd have expected her to be more judgmental about all of this. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he had always been so much more judgmental about her men.
Oh, he could tell she didn't like the fact that he was sleeping with EJ. He knew her well enough that this one was a no-brainer, really. But she never let it show consciously, not after they had started spilling stuff to each other at one point, and she always worked hard on keeping a tight rein on her assessment of the situation. When she talked to him or asked him uncomfortable questions, her tone of voice was always so carefully neutral that he loved her for that alone.
It's nice, having someone to talk to.
He blinked, losing his step for a moment at the memory of his own voice, and Ziva shot him a quick sideways glance.
She probably thought he didn't know that she had adjusted her pace so he could keep up with her, but he wasn't really that dense. And because he wasn't, just a little preoccupied sometimes, this was the very thing that had just distracted him and made him stumble -- the realization that all of a sudden he shared his food and she throttled her steps and they had somehow adjusted around each other.
His cell phone beeped in his pocket, and he flinched. For a moment he thought about not answering because he was still busy evading his own head, but another glance from Ziva told him she had heard the sound, and he couldn't really ignore it now because it would look weird.
Finally, on my way home. I'm dying for a back rub.
He stared at the text for at least ten seconds before he realized that was EJ's way of inviting him over for the night. He glanced at Ziva and met her eyes for a heartbeat while they rounded a corner in unison. His thumb hovered over his phone for another moment, then he typed his answer.
Yeah, me too, but I'm running. Totally out of training.
He had barely tucked his phone away when it buzzed again in answer.
Shower at my place?
It was weird to stare at her text and wonder when his life had gotten complicated. He should have paid more attention, really.
Ziva's gaze was suddenly heavy on him, and he knew she was curious now, even though she would never ask. And maybe it was exactly that fact that made the decision for him, but her quiet company suddenly seemed a lot more appealing than a quick-n-dirty romp to blow off some steam.
Can't. Just started my round, other end of town. Will be too late when I finish.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, intent on ignoring any answer that followed. There was none, and even though EJ would probably give him grief about this tomorrow, he eventually found his breathing slow down, and he lost some of the tension that had tightened his shoulders and neck up to the point where he was really longing for a back rub. Too bad he wouldn't get one now.
*** *** ***
It didn't take long until he noticed that somewhere in-between Ziva had picked up her pace and now he suddenly had trouble sticking to her side. He glanced at her curiously, just like she had shot him a few looks earlier, but her face didn't give anything away.
He frowned and looked closer, and yes, there was a tense set to her jaw suddenly that hadn't been there earlier.
"What's up?" he asked, and she shook her head and picked up an even faster pace that forced him to push harder to keep up with her. "Come on, Ziva, what--"
He reached out to touch her arm, and when he grasped her tense biceps, her steps suddenly faltered and she slowed down just as abruptly as she had sped up, coming to a halt beside him and crumbling in on herself. He stared at her face and tried to figure out what was going on, and when she looked up and met his eyes, he suddenly saw something flicker in there that he hadn't seen for a while.
"Are you pissed at me, too?" he asked, surprise ringing in his voice.
She broke the gaze and bent forward, resting her hands against her knees while she tried to get her spiked breathing back to normal. Again she shook her head, and again he stared at her, at the back of her neck, suddenly distracted and wondering if he would ever get rid of the stupid urge to reach out and touch her.
Eventually, she straightened and shook her legs to keep her muscles from stiffening up. Tony was pretty sure she believed that, like her breathing, her face was back under control by the time she met his eyes, but he, he knew her, and he saw that there was suddenly some heavy tension going on inside her. And he had no idea how he could have missed it before. He was even less sure why it came out now of all times, halfway through the night, when it was usually broad daylight that brought things to the surface.
Ziva was still completely silent while she dug her water bottle out of the tiny pack strapped to her hip, and he suddenly had the distinct feeling that she was trying to avoid the talk he felt coming up loud and clear. But somehow, the moment for easy avoidance had slipped past them, and Tony couldn't stop thinking about the fucking elephant and this new honesty thing they'd had between them lately.
He hadn't even noticed he had moved closer to her until she shoved the water bottle at him to distract him and keep him at a distance. He took the bottle absentmindedly and drank, and yes, some part of him was too aware of the way she suddenly stared at his throat and watched him swallow. They shouldn't look at each other like that, really. It didn't feel like a good idea, with all that had been going on lately. And yet, sometimes it seemed as if they had no chance.
A little shiver ran through her when he handed the bottle back to her and his fingers brushed hers. She took a sip of her own, and fuck, the simple fact that she didn't wipe first had him distracted so easily that he almost missed the expression flickering in her eyes. That one glance, it got him good and made him stagger -- not physically, but in his head, and it distorted his whole perception of the situation to the point where his throat was tight and his hands hurt because he wanted to cramp them into fists.
"You've given up on me," he accused her, surprise ringing in his voice.
Ziva froze for a heartbeat. The water bottle touched her lips, and she swallowed and tried without much success not to look any different. Eventually, she lowered the bottle carefully, slowly. Just as achingly slow she screwed the cap back on, and he watched her take her time, saw her breathing stumble over itself and the tell-tale pulse in her neck suddenly beat hard and fast. He'd gotten so used to checking it for clues.
Her hands played with the water bottle while she kept avoiding his eyes and did her best to look as calm and unflappable as she always pretended to be at work.
"You seem to be intent on making things work for you and EJ," she finally replied, and her shoulders gave a little motion that was probably meant to be a shrug, but turned out to be only halfway there. Her words were slow and so carefully pronounced that they felt a little sharp around the edges.
He stared at her, his brows drawing together while he tried to make sense out of her words and instead got more and more confused by the minute.
"Uhm, excuse me?" he said. "You were the one who shoved me into talking to Gibbs? Moving things along and all that crap?"
Now it was Ziva's turn to frown and look at him as if he were not only dense, but had lost his mind somewhere along the last mile. "You started it."
"I... wait, what?"
She blinked and stared at him for a second. Then she turned all the way and faced him while she crossed her arms. "'He's CIA, Ziva, they have a sworn duty to protect what they know...'," she mock-quoted his own words back at him. And yeah, deep down inside he knew it was screwed up, but the way she tilted her head while she spoke, bobbing it left and right as if she were quoting a cartoon character, that made her look so endearing that he felt the urge to lean over and do something childish, like flick his finger against her earlobe or tickle her or pull her hair.
Her words were not overly endearing, though, and it took Tony a moment to connect them with this situation in his head. When he did, he felt his face scrunch up into a frown, because really, since when was she so fast to put the blame on him?
Ziva, though, just watched him, waiting for his reaction. It felt strange to see her face so weirdly open and her eyes carefully guarded and closed down at the same time. So what was this, she was pissed off because he had tried to do the right thing for once? Tried to move on and leave her a chance at working it out with a halfway decent guy? Seriously?
"I think I did an okay job there," he pressed out, raising his chin and glaring at her in the old way, the one that had never gotten them anywhere, and yes, it was stupid, totally, but he couldn't help his big mouth now, just like all the times before, and just like his brain, his mouth sometimes came up with a load of crap that couldn't be stopped from falling out. "Considering I have no idea how to treat a sister."
Her face suddenly looked a shade more pale than it had just a minute ago, even in this dim light. And he knew that he was venturing into incredibly juvenile territory now, but for the fraction of a second he couldn't help the deep satisfaction rushing through him because even now, he was still able to hit her like this. And yes, it was more than uncomfortable, but he had to admit that part of him wanted her to feel something when he threw stuff at her.
Ziva's mouth opened and closed again, and he waited for what she would say, waited with his eyes narrowed and his pulse doing a rumba and part of his anger already crumbling away under the sudden onslaught of straightforwardness he saw in her face.
"I see," she breathed out eventually. "I assume Ray told you that?"
He nodded, and she pulled a face in not quite the way he had expected. It made him narrow his eyes even more, and he watched her carefully now. He didn't even care that his body was starting to cool down and he would probably end up with a motherfucker of a cramp soon enough.
Her reaction was the important thing now. Because there was something going on here he hadn't known about before, and it could totally shift things around again, snap of fingers, and she looked at him like--
"So, was that the truth?" he pressed out when she didn't come forward on her own. Because, fuck, yes. He had to know. "Or is there more in this, Ziva? I mean, yes, the sex should make it obvious, but women do the weirdest things, and..."
His voice trailed off and he leaned closer so he could better see the conflicting emotions chasing themselves across her face. When she still didn't reply, he frowned and raised a hand to run it through his hair, and he found himself tugging a little too hard because all of a sudden he felt incredibly helpless and raw and too wide open for his own good. This honesty thing with Ziva, it was still too new to feel even remotely used to it, and yeah, it had worked alright as long as they had talked about other people, but he wasn't sure if it would still be okay for them once they started working out other... things. The important ones.
Once more he saw hesitation flare up in her eyes, and he knew that she was suddenly suffering from the same attack of nerves that bundled up in his own stomach. Realities clashed and warred inside her -- the one where they had always just danced around issues and never once touched them properly, which had become second nature to them, fighting the partnership of late, the strangely natural one that had them move together instead of away from each other. For a moment he actually wondered which one would win this round. He was pretty sure going back to the old ways was not a real option for them anymore, but you never knew.
And then, just when he fought down the urge to grab her and shake an answer out of her, something else happened to her face, and she smiled at him and gave him an unexpected smile and a shrug that looked the tiniest bit awkward, in a very girlish and un-Ziva way. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he saw a sudden blush stain her cheeks.
"How many men tell their spouses they just hired a hot secretary, Tony?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice, and she looked to the side, still smiling, almost coyly now, but at the same time splitting herself open so wide with that simple statement that he felt the backlash of her pain, too. The terror of being vulnerable because you just confessed to wanting something that maybe isn't within your reach.
When he didn't reply for a while, she glanced back at him, and whatever she saw in his face, it seemed to relax her a bit. Tony blinked, watching her, holding her gaze until he felt like grinning at her for some whacky reason.
"So, let me get this straight," he said, and she raised an eyebrow, going for poker face once more and, again, succeeding only halfway. "You think I'm hot and you hid that fact from Ray."
Ziva rolled her eyes at him because that was what they did, and it made a big, annoying grin spread out across his face. Yup, he was going straight for the important facts here, thank you very much.
He kept smiling at her and watched her face relax gradually until she was back to liking him and being Ziva, and that was when he suddenly, unexpectedly, got confused again and blinked at her. "Uhm, in that case, why are we even having this conversation?"
She looked caught all of a sudden, fighting her instinct to shut down now just like she had always done. In the end she didn't, though, and Tony watched her tilt her head and wondered why.
"Because," she said, so careful that he knew she was trying to hide some heavy, steep, biting emotion behind the calm mask again, "you seemed a lot more reserved since Ray is out of the picture."
Because I'm not sure if you just want me as long as I am with someone else.
He flinched at the memory of her words, slapping him in the face like a wet rag, and god, yes, deep down he'd always known what kind of an idiot he was, but it had seldom bit him in the ass so hard.
"No," he pressed out, and Ziva flinched when he came for her, his hand going for her neck and pulling her close before she could fight him. "No, no... just--"
She made a soft sound of protest, but it was lost in his mouth, and he closed his eyes, didn't want to see her expression, didn't want to see the moment coming when she'd shove him away and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
Except that she didn't do that.
Her body was stiff against his for only a heartbeat, and then he suddenly felt her shudder and downright melt into him, her lips parting and her tongue flicking out to taste him and making his head spin with the heated response she drew out of him. Oh, god, yes, yes.
At least that part wasn't broken between them.
He felt her choked groan, and that turned the kiss messy, with spit on her lips and his tongue in her mouth and eating her until a shudder ran through her and her fingers curled to dig into his neck, and he couldn't help it then, he wanted more of her, wanted to run his hands all over her until she would be no longer thinking and losing it and coming for him. And fuck, yes, he could make her come so easily, that much was sure by now.
She gasped when he slid his hand under her sweater and touched bare skin, and it made her tear her mouth from his and turn her face to the side.
"No," she gasped, leaning back when he tried to capture her lips again and steal more kisses. She shook her head, and his hand on her neck tightened to keep her from slipping away. "No. I won't make that mistake again--"
"Mistake?" he huffed and tried to kiss her again while his hands worked hard at keeping her pressed to his chest. "Are you kidding me?"
He'd meant it to reassure her, to make her relax in his arms again, but for some reason this was the very thing that made her shove her flat hand against his chest until she could stumble back, out of his reach. And yes, there was a fire in her eyes now that was only partly fueled by lust. There was also a weird, irrational anger flaring up and scorching him.
"I had one weak moment--" she pressed through bared teeth, watching him cautiously, and he couldn't help the short bark of laughter that spilled over his lips.
"One?" he said, coming after her slowly while she backed away, step by step. "Sweetheart, once is a weak moment. Twice, maybe, but even that is venturing on stupid if you don't mean it in the first place. But three times? That, just now, that was it, third time, and three times -- that's a fucking pattern, Ziva."
Her eyes narrowed, and he saw the wheels turn in her head, saw her go back and forth and round and round in circles, and that was when he had enough and took one last step towards her, reaching out for her again.
"No," she murmured, trying to avoid his grip and pull back again, but her voice sounded strangely weak and indecisive all of a sudden.
"Yes," he replied, and his hand touched her neck and made a shiver run down her back. His mouth brushed hers, and she tilted her head, almost-willing, not quite fighting anymore, and her lashes fluttered against his cheek while his breathing sped up in sudden anticipation. "Please."
She blinked and turned her head again. Her hand came up to his chest, not pushing him away this time, just keeping him at enough of a distance so he wouldn't kiss her again. "I cannot be your side dish, Tony."
Her voice was so low that he didn't hear her at first. When he pieced the words together, though, he leaned towards her, his lips touching her temple, and god, yes, he wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her this wasn't it, this was something else, this was more important than--
"You're not," he pressed out, but part of him knew that he had already lost this round, even without waiting for her reply.
She tilted her head back, staring at his face long enough to make him itchy. Then, just when he began to feel really nervous, she tapped her fingertips to his chest as if she wanted to remind him of something.
"I'm not the one the whole Yard knows about," she stated quietly. Her eyes were wide and weirdly soft all of a sudden, and maybe he was just imagining that because there was the same kind of sadness shining in them that had always gotten under his skin, from the very moment she had let him see it for the first time. Let him see that she was a human being behind all those masks and walls and disguises.
He sighed and let go of her because she was right and because he had to, and she took a step back, not fleeing him this time, just leaving his space and separating them once more. But just before she could turn away from him completely, his hand came up to her elbow, making her turn back to look at him curiously, waiting for what he had to say.
Maybe that's better, he wanted to say, but his voice failed him and he couldn't get the words out, because he wasn't feeling hazardous enough yet to show her what was really going on on his side of the fence.
But just like always, just like every single day lately, he didn't even have to say it out loud to have her understand him. The corner of her mouth twisted up in a quick grin that made things settle into place again, and he watched her face soften while she was giving him a bit of leeway without giving in yet. She twisted her arm so her elbow slipped out of his grasp, and then she turned her hand and took his and squeezed for the briefest moment before letting go.
"Come on," she said, winking at him. "I'll race you."
She was gone in a sudden flurry of movement, and he was after her just as fast, putting his legs to good work to catch up with her.
"Race me where? Ziva!" he called after her, putting as much indignation into it as he could. "Jesus, you do know you are one crazy chick, right?"
Her laughter was barely audible because she'd gotten a good head start, but it still ran down his back like a bright, sparkly caress, raising goose bumps in its wake.
*** *** ***
notes & warnings: set after 7x21 "Dead Reflection", so mild spoilers for that episode.
Part seven in a series and thus, will make much more sense if you have read the previous ones:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
word count: around 4,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Running
The eye thing didn't let his mind shut down.
Sure, on the outside he concentrated on the report he was trying to finish, but inside, his brain was doing its thing and doing overtime at that.
It just felt too personal to be coincidental, and that got him right where it hurt. Stuff like that had always gotten under his skin.
Of course EJ had disagreed and brushed it off, saying that the killer could have chosen any of the agents to deliver his frozen message, but somehow Tony doubted that it was really just a case of first come, first served, pun fully intended. His gut (which was, admittedly, a lame-ass version of Gibbs's) insisted that he'd been chosen as the recipient because he'd known the former owner of the eye. And that thought was unsettling enough to have him running a list of former friends and coworkers and cross-reference them in his head. Wondering.
He didn't notice how lost in his thoughts he really was though until Ziva switched off his desk lamp and he found himself blinking at the sudden change in lighting. He turned his head, feeling slightly stupefied, and her look of concern didn't help.
"Go home, Tony," she said, and there was an unfamiliar indulgence ringing in her voice. "You've been staring at the same page for more than an hour now."
"Maybe I like that page."
He watched her face soften in a strange way, as if she were thinking about ruffling his hair for a moment, and that look got him so good that he felt himself reeling with the quite unexpected urge to pull her close and bury his face into her stomach until she would, maybe, wrap her arms around him.
He held his breath until the moment passed, then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I think I could use a drink," he sighed and shot her an almost hesitant glance. "You game?"
She made a face, and it was only then that he remembered what had happened the last time they'd had one together.
"I was thinking of something more healthy for the rest of the night," she replied, and that made him grimace in return. "Going for a run, maybe."
The words echoed between them in a way that felt more like a question rather than a statement, and when he looked up to meet her gaze, he found her eyes so carefully guarded that his gut did strange things to him, again.
"I'm game," he said, and even while he turned to power down his computer, he saw her relax.
*** *** ***
They finished their first mile through the dimly lit park in total silence, and that was what made him relax, eventually. The dull thuds of their sneakers on the ground and the even, carefully controlled breaths of Ziva beside him soon turned into a soothing monotone that eventually allowed the tension to seep out of him and pleasantly emptied his mind, a little more with each step.
At least until he noticed it.
After that, his thoughts kept circling around Ziva and the weird ways of their relationship and how it had evolved lately into something so very different from the place they had started out in. And he found that for whatever whacky reason, it had suddenly gotten a lot easier to talk to her. It felt strangely familiar and -- for lack of a better word --- safe. Somehow, he'd have expected her to be more judgmental about all of this. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because he had always been so much more judgmental about her men.
Oh, he could tell she didn't like the fact that he was sleeping with EJ. He knew her well enough that this one was a no-brainer, really. But she never let it show consciously, not after they had started spilling stuff to each other at one point, and she always worked hard on keeping a tight rein on her assessment of the situation. When she talked to him or asked him uncomfortable questions, her tone of voice was always so carefully neutral that he loved her for that alone.
It's nice, having someone to talk to.
He blinked, losing his step for a moment at the memory of his own voice, and Ziva shot him a quick sideways glance.
She probably thought he didn't know that she had adjusted her pace so he could keep up with her, but he wasn't really that dense. And because he wasn't, just a little preoccupied sometimes, this was the very thing that had just distracted him and made him stumble -- the realization that all of a sudden he shared his food and she throttled her steps and they had somehow adjusted around each other.
His cell phone beeped in his pocket, and he flinched. For a moment he thought about not answering because he was still busy evading his own head, but another glance from Ziva told him she had heard the sound, and he couldn't really ignore it now because it would look weird.
Finally, on my way home. I'm dying for a back rub.
He stared at the text for at least ten seconds before he realized that was EJ's way of inviting him over for the night. He glanced at Ziva and met her eyes for a heartbeat while they rounded a corner in unison. His thumb hovered over his phone for another moment, then he typed his answer.
Yeah, me too, but I'm running. Totally out of training.
He had barely tucked his phone away when it buzzed again in answer.
Shower at my place?
It was weird to stare at her text and wonder when his life had gotten complicated. He should have paid more attention, really.
Ziva's gaze was suddenly heavy on him, and he knew she was curious now, even though she would never ask. And maybe it was exactly that fact that made the decision for him, but her quiet company suddenly seemed a lot more appealing than a quick-n-dirty romp to blow off some steam.
Can't. Just started my round, other end of town. Will be too late when I finish.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, intent on ignoring any answer that followed. There was none, and even though EJ would probably give him grief about this tomorrow, he eventually found his breathing slow down, and he lost some of the tension that had tightened his shoulders and neck up to the point where he was really longing for a back rub. Too bad he wouldn't get one now.
*** *** ***
It didn't take long until he noticed that somewhere in-between Ziva had picked up her pace and now he suddenly had trouble sticking to her side. He glanced at her curiously, just like she had shot him a few looks earlier, but her face didn't give anything away.
He frowned and looked closer, and yes, there was a tense set to her jaw suddenly that hadn't been there earlier.
"What's up?" he asked, and she shook her head and picked up an even faster pace that forced him to push harder to keep up with her. "Come on, Ziva, what--"
He reached out to touch her arm, and when he grasped her tense biceps, her steps suddenly faltered and she slowed down just as abruptly as she had sped up, coming to a halt beside him and crumbling in on herself. He stared at her face and tried to figure out what was going on, and when she looked up and met his eyes, he suddenly saw something flicker in there that he hadn't seen for a while.
"Are you pissed at me, too?" he asked, surprise ringing in his voice.
She broke the gaze and bent forward, resting her hands against her knees while she tried to get her spiked breathing back to normal. Again she shook her head, and again he stared at her, at the back of her neck, suddenly distracted and wondering if he would ever get rid of the stupid urge to reach out and touch her.
Eventually, she straightened and shook her legs to keep her muscles from stiffening up. Tony was pretty sure she believed that, like her breathing, her face was back under control by the time she met his eyes, but he, he knew her, and he saw that there was suddenly some heavy tension going on inside her. And he had no idea how he could have missed it before. He was even less sure why it came out now of all times, halfway through the night, when it was usually broad daylight that brought things to the surface.
Ziva was still completely silent while she dug her water bottle out of the tiny pack strapped to her hip, and he suddenly had the distinct feeling that she was trying to avoid the talk he felt coming up loud and clear. But somehow, the moment for easy avoidance had slipped past them, and Tony couldn't stop thinking about the fucking elephant and this new honesty thing they'd had between them lately.
He hadn't even noticed he had moved closer to her until she shoved the water bottle at him to distract him and keep him at a distance. He took the bottle absentmindedly and drank, and yes, some part of him was too aware of the way she suddenly stared at his throat and watched him swallow. They shouldn't look at each other like that, really. It didn't feel like a good idea, with all that had been going on lately. And yet, sometimes it seemed as if they had no chance.
A little shiver ran through her when he handed the bottle back to her and his fingers brushed hers. She took a sip of her own, and fuck, the simple fact that she didn't wipe first had him distracted so easily that he almost missed the expression flickering in her eyes. That one glance, it got him good and made him stagger -- not physically, but in his head, and it distorted his whole perception of the situation to the point where his throat was tight and his hands hurt because he wanted to cramp them into fists.
"You've given up on me," he accused her, surprise ringing in his voice.
Ziva froze for a heartbeat. The water bottle touched her lips, and she swallowed and tried without much success not to look any different. Eventually, she lowered the bottle carefully, slowly. Just as achingly slow she screwed the cap back on, and he watched her take her time, saw her breathing stumble over itself and the tell-tale pulse in her neck suddenly beat hard and fast. He'd gotten so used to checking it for clues.
Her hands played with the water bottle while she kept avoiding his eyes and did her best to look as calm and unflappable as she always pretended to be at work.
"You seem to be intent on making things work for you and EJ," she finally replied, and her shoulders gave a little motion that was probably meant to be a shrug, but turned out to be only halfway there. Her words were slow and so carefully pronounced that they felt a little sharp around the edges.
He stared at her, his brows drawing together while he tried to make sense out of her words and instead got more and more confused by the minute.
"Uhm, excuse me?" he said. "You were the one who shoved me into talking to Gibbs? Moving things along and all that crap?"
Now it was Ziva's turn to frown and look at him as if he were not only dense, but had lost his mind somewhere along the last mile. "You started it."
"I... wait, what?"
She blinked and stared at him for a second. Then she turned all the way and faced him while she crossed her arms. "'He's CIA, Ziva, they have a sworn duty to protect what they know...'," she mock-quoted his own words back at him. And yeah, deep down inside he knew it was screwed up, but the way she tilted her head while she spoke, bobbing it left and right as if she were quoting a cartoon character, that made her look so endearing that he felt the urge to lean over and do something childish, like flick his finger against her earlobe or tickle her or pull her hair.
Her words were not overly endearing, though, and it took Tony a moment to connect them with this situation in his head. When he did, he felt his face scrunch up into a frown, because really, since when was she so fast to put the blame on him?
Ziva, though, just watched him, waiting for his reaction. It felt strange to see her face so weirdly open and her eyes carefully guarded and closed down at the same time. So what was this, she was pissed off because he had tried to do the right thing for once? Tried to move on and leave her a chance at working it out with a halfway decent guy? Seriously?
"I think I did an okay job there," he pressed out, raising his chin and glaring at her in the old way, the one that had never gotten them anywhere, and yes, it was stupid, totally, but he couldn't help his big mouth now, just like all the times before, and just like his brain, his mouth sometimes came up with a load of crap that couldn't be stopped from falling out. "Considering I have no idea how to treat a sister."
Her face suddenly looked a shade more pale than it had just a minute ago, even in this dim light. And he knew that he was venturing into incredibly juvenile territory now, but for the fraction of a second he couldn't help the deep satisfaction rushing through him because even now, he was still able to hit her like this. And yes, it was more than uncomfortable, but he had to admit that part of him wanted her to feel something when he threw stuff at her.
Ziva's mouth opened and closed again, and he waited for what she would say, waited with his eyes narrowed and his pulse doing a rumba and part of his anger already crumbling away under the sudden onslaught of straightforwardness he saw in her face.
"I see," she breathed out eventually. "I assume Ray told you that?"
He nodded, and she pulled a face in not quite the way he had expected. It made him narrow his eyes even more, and he watched her carefully now. He didn't even care that his body was starting to cool down and he would probably end up with a motherfucker of a cramp soon enough.
Her reaction was the important thing now. Because there was something going on here he hadn't known about before, and it could totally shift things around again, snap of fingers, and she looked at him like--
"So, was that the truth?" he pressed out when she didn't come forward on her own. Because, fuck, yes. He had to know. "Or is there more in this, Ziva? I mean, yes, the sex should make it obvious, but women do the weirdest things, and..."
His voice trailed off and he leaned closer so he could better see the conflicting emotions chasing themselves across her face. When she still didn't reply, he frowned and raised a hand to run it through his hair, and he found himself tugging a little too hard because all of a sudden he felt incredibly helpless and raw and too wide open for his own good. This honesty thing with Ziva, it was still too new to feel even remotely used to it, and yeah, it had worked alright as long as they had talked about other people, but he wasn't sure if it would still be okay for them once they started working out other... things. The important ones.
Once more he saw hesitation flare up in her eyes, and he knew that she was suddenly suffering from the same attack of nerves that bundled up in his own stomach. Realities clashed and warred inside her -- the one where they had always just danced around issues and never once touched them properly, which had become second nature to them, fighting the partnership of late, the strangely natural one that had them move together instead of away from each other. For a moment he actually wondered which one would win this round. He was pretty sure going back to the old ways was not a real option for them anymore, but you never knew.
And then, just when he fought down the urge to grab her and shake an answer out of her, something else happened to her face, and she smiled at him and gave him an unexpected smile and a shrug that looked the tiniest bit awkward, in a very girlish and un-Ziva way. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he saw a sudden blush stain her cheeks.
"How many men tell their spouses they just hired a hot secretary, Tony?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice, and she looked to the side, still smiling, almost coyly now, but at the same time splitting herself open so wide with that simple statement that he felt the backlash of her pain, too. The terror of being vulnerable because you just confessed to wanting something that maybe isn't within your reach.
When he didn't reply for a while, she glanced back at him, and whatever she saw in his face, it seemed to relax her a bit. Tony blinked, watching her, holding her gaze until he felt like grinning at her for some whacky reason.
"So, let me get this straight," he said, and she raised an eyebrow, going for poker face once more and, again, succeeding only halfway. "You think I'm hot and you hid that fact from Ray."
Ziva rolled her eyes at him because that was what they did, and it made a big, annoying grin spread out across his face. Yup, he was going straight for the important facts here, thank you very much.
He kept smiling at her and watched her face relax gradually until she was back to liking him and being Ziva, and that was when he suddenly, unexpectedly, got confused again and blinked at her. "Uhm, in that case, why are we even having this conversation?"
She looked caught all of a sudden, fighting her instinct to shut down now just like she had always done. In the end she didn't, though, and Tony watched her tilt her head and wondered why.
"Because," she said, so careful that he knew she was trying to hide some heavy, steep, biting emotion behind the calm mask again, "you seemed a lot more reserved since Ray is out of the picture."
Because I'm not sure if you just want me as long as I am with someone else.
He flinched at the memory of her words, slapping him in the face like a wet rag, and god, yes, deep down he'd always known what kind of an idiot he was, but it had seldom bit him in the ass so hard.
"No," he pressed out, and Ziva flinched when he came for her, his hand going for her neck and pulling her close before she could fight him. "No, no... just--"
She made a soft sound of protest, but it was lost in his mouth, and he closed his eyes, didn't want to see her expression, didn't want to see the moment coming when she'd shove him away and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
Except that she didn't do that.
Her body was stiff against his for only a heartbeat, and then he suddenly felt her shudder and downright melt into him, her lips parting and her tongue flicking out to taste him and making his head spin with the heated response she drew out of him. Oh, god, yes, yes.
At least that part wasn't broken between them.
He felt her choked groan, and that turned the kiss messy, with spit on her lips and his tongue in her mouth and eating her until a shudder ran through her and her fingers curled to dig into his neck, and he couldn't help it then, he wanted more of her, wanted to run his hands all over her until she would be no longer thinking and losing it and coming for him. And fuck, yes, he could make her come so easily, that much was sure by now.
She gasped when he slid his hand under her sweater and touched bare skin, and it made her tear her mouth from his and turn her face to the side.
"No," she gasped, leaning back when he tried to capture her lips again and steal more kisses. She shook her head, and his hand on her neck tightened to keep her from slipping away. "No. I won't make that mistake again--"
"Mistake?" he huffed and tried to kiss her again while his hands worked hard at keeping her pressed to his chest. "Are you kidding me?"
He'd meant it to reassure her, to make her relax in his arms again, but for some reason this was the very thing that made her shove her flat hand against his chest until she could stumble back, out of his reach. And yes, there was a fire in her eyes now that was only partly fueled by lust. There was also a weird, irrational anger flaring up and scorching him.
"I had one weak moment--" she pressed through bared teeth, watching him cautiously, and he couldn't help the short bark of laughter that spilled over his lips.
"One?" he said, coming after her slowly while she backed away, step by step. "Sweetheart, once is a weak moment. Twice, maybe, but even that is venturing on stupid if you don't mean it in the first place. But three times? That, just now, that was it, third time, and three times -- that's a fucking pattern, Ziva."
Her eyes narrowed, and he saw the wheels turn in her head, saw her go back and forth and round and round in circles, and that was when he had enough and took one last step towards her, reaching out for her again.
"No," she murmured, trying to avoid his grip and pull back again, but her voice sounded strangely weak and indecisive all of a sudden.
"Yes," he replied, and his hand touched her neck and made a shiver run down her back. His mouth brushed hers, and she tilted her head, almost-willing, not quite fighting anymore, and her lashes fluttered against his cheek while his breathing sped up in sudden anticipation. "Please."
She blinked and turned her head again. Her hand came up to his chest, not pushing him away this time, just keeping him at enough of a distance so he wouldn't kiss her again. "I cannot be your side dish, Tony."
Her voice was so low that he didn't hear her at first. When he pieced the words together, though, he leaned towards her, his lips touching her temple, and god, yes, he wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her this wasn't it, this was something else, this was more important than--
"You're not," he pressed out, but part of him knew that he had already lost this round, even without waiting for her reply.
She tilted her head back, staring at his face long enough to make him itchy. Then, just when he began to feel really nervous, she tapped her fingertips to his chest as if she wanted to remind him of something.
"I'm not the one the whole Yard knows about," she stated quietly. Her eyes were wide and weirdly soft all of a sudden, and maybe he was just imagining that because there was the same kind of sadness shining in them that had always gotten under his skin, from the very moment she had let him see it for the first time. Let him see that she was a human being behind all those masks and walls and disguises.
He sighed and let go of her because she was right and because he had to, and she took a step back, not fleeing him this time, just leaving his space and separating them once more. But just before she could turn away from him completely, his hand came up to her elbow, making her turn back to look at him curiously, waiting for what he had to say.
Maybe that's better, he wanted to say, but his voice failed him and he couldn't get the words out, because he wasn't feeling hazardous enough yet to show her what was really going on on his side of the fence.
But just like always, just like every single day lately, he didn't even have to say it out loud to have her understand him. The corner of her mouth twisted up in a quick grin that made things settle into place again, and he watched her face soften while she was giving him a bit of leeway without giving in yet. She twisted her arm so her elbow slipped out of his grasp, and then she turned her hand and took his and squeezed for the briefest moment before letting go.
"Come on," she said, winking at him. "I'll race you."
She was gone in a sudden flurry of movement, and he was after her just as fast, putting his legs to good work to catch up with her.
"Race me where? Ziva!" he called after her, putting as much indignation into it as he could. "Jesus, you do know you are one crazy chick, right?"
Her laughter was barely audible because she'd gotten a good head start, but it still ran down his back like a bright, sparkly caress, raising goose bumps in its wake.
*** *** ***