Fic: Roll Credits," NCIS, Tony/Ziva, R.
Last day of the month and I'm squeezing in one last fic!
Title: "Roll Credits"
Author: monimala
Fandom: NCIS
Rating/Classification: R for sexual imagery and mild language, Tony/Ziva.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making a profit, no malicious infringement intended.
Summary: 1000 words. Two distinct personalities clash and it's really just an orchestrated cover for the fact that they're in love.
Sometimes, Tony's so in love with Ziva it actually hurts. Roughly in the groin region. When he's so hard that his balls ache and he has to shut himself in the bathroom and jerk off in quick strokes. Kind of like Ben Stiller in There's Something About Mary, except that he's nowhere near that gauche or awkward. And he remembers to wash his hands afterwards.
And it's not because she's beautiful --even though she absolutely is; sort of like Ava Gardner in her heyday meets Penelope Cruz-- it's because she can kick his ass. It's because she *does* kick his ass. Ziva is the toughest person he knows. And anytime he gets into a pissing contest with McGee, he knows the only reason he beats out the probie is because Ziva's not playing, too. All she has to do is lean back in her desk chair, give him one of those Looks with a lofty arch of her brow, and Tony knows he's done for.
It's the most clichéd cinematic trope of all time… at least when it comes to crime dramas or partner movies. Two distinct personalities clash and it's really just an orchestrated cover for the fact that they're in love. Sure, someone might argue that it doesn't necessarily apply to Riggs and Murtaugh in the Lethal Weapon movies, but Tony's an open-minded guy. And he's too old for this shit. For staring at Ziva when she's not looking --and even when she is-- for going four weeks without a date just because every woman he meets can't measure up to the one he left behind at the Yard. But he also knows there's a timetable for this sort of thing. They can't get together until at least the third act of the film; that he figures is still about a year away. He has to wear her down; she has to let the sexual tension build to a fever's pitch.
He's so in love with her that he's willing to wait it out to the logical conclusion of the story. And to keep locking himself in the bathroom at appropriate intervals.
He plays the mental footage of them from the Ranier op over and over in his head. Three years gone now and no less sharp than when it happened. He remembers how her skin tasted and how she shivered under his hands. They didn't fake it. That's what no one knows; it's the secret they'll both carry to the grave. He slid into her and she rocked into him and every single gasp was real. He savored every minute. The Vincent Gallo approach to acting… it's only convincing if Chloe Sevigny *actually* goes down on you for the cameras. Ziva was the consummate professional, never brings it up, even when they're sacked out on her couch marathoning Tarantino flicks. And if it weren't for the way she stares at *him* when he's not looking --and even when he is-- he'd think she doesn't love him back.
**
She cannot quite picture taking Tony home to Tel Aviv. It's not his world; maybe it's not even her world anymore. But it's the foregone conclusion, no? Sometime in the next year or two, they will stop this train because they want to get it on. (Or is it "get off"? Four years in this country and the idioms still confuse her!) She watches him from across the squad room sometimes and sees it in his eyes. The way his gaze lingers on her, the way he watches her unconsciously play with the chain of her Star of David.
He has their future scripted out like one of his movies. Boy meets Girl. Boy annoys Girl to point where she wants to castrate him. Boy and Girl admit they love each other and marry in beautiful interfaith ceremony. Boy and Girl have a son with his father's beautiful eyes.
Okay. Maybe this is Ziva's movie. The kind she would never admit to watching because nothing blows up and there's no plot-less sex. And make no error, Ziva likes plot-less sex. Sex in general, really. But she has not had any in so long she's begun to forget what it's like with someone else. All she has is the porno reel of her own hand and the memory of Tony's touching her in nearly the same way. And when she goes over, she calls out his name. And it does not matter that she hides these impulses in the light of day, that she hits Tony and mocks him and pretends she does not care if he goes out with his dozens of girlfriends. He looks at her and he knows that the hours between midnight and five a.m. belong to him.
He knows she wants him, loves him, and spins silly fantasies of taking him home to meet her family. But he wants to drag out the drama until they are both so hungry for one another that it hurts to do anything else but be together. This is the kind of thing that would satisfy Tony's inner Spielberg. ("More Merchant Ivory, wouldn't you think, Officer David? All that repressed longing?") The right moment. The right set up. The perfect dialogue.
But Ziva likes explosions. Perhaps this is why she one day decides she has had enough.
Waiting a year for the train to stop just is not feasible. She wants to get off now. She wants to get it on now. Even if this is not in Tony's plan, even if he thinks they need to wait for the third movie in the Godfather trilogy.
She twists on the sofa, satisfied to see that Tony is not really watching Jackie Brown (Foxy Brown, he'd told her, is a really hot female performer), and she announces, "I am tired of waiting, Tony. I want us to junk the shark."
"Jump, Ziva. You want us to *jump*," he corrects automatically.
"Exactly," she says, before she takes the leap and kisses him.
--end--
January 31, 2009
Title: "Roll Credits"
Author: monimala
Fandom: NCIS
Rating/Classification: R for sexual imagery and mild language, Tony/Ziva.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making a profit, no malicious infringement intended.
Summary: 1000 words. Two distinct personalities clash and it's really just an orchestrated cover for the fact that they're in love.
Sometimes, Tony's so in love with Ziva it actually hurts. Roughly in the groin region. When he's so hard that his balls ache and he has to shut himself in the bathroom and jerk off in quick strokes. Kind of like Ben Stiller in There's Something About Mary, except that he's nowhere near that gauche or awkward. And he remembers to wash his hands afterwards.
And it's not because she's beautiful --even though she absolutely is; sort of like Ava Gardner in her heyday meets Penelope Cruz-- it's because she can kick his ass. It's because she *does* kick his ass. Ziva is the toughest person he knows. And anytime he gets into a pissing contest with McGee, he knows the only reason he beats out the probie is because Ziva's not playing, too. All she has to do is lean back in her desk chair, give him one of those Looks with a lofty arch of her brow, and Tony knows he's done for.
It's the most clichéd cinematic trope of all time… at least when it comes to crime dramas or partner movies. Two distinct personalities clash and it's really just an orchestrated cover for the fact that they're in love. Sure, someone might argue that it doesn't necessarily apply to Riggs and Murtaugh in the Lethal Weapon movies, but Tony's an open-minded guy. And he's too old for this shit. For staring at Ziva when she's not looking --and even when she is-- for going four weeks without a date just because every woman he meets can't measure up to the one he left behind at the Yard. But he also knows there's a timetable for this sort of thing. They can't get together until at least the third act of the film; that he figures is still about a year away. He has to wear her down; she has to let the sexual tension build to a fever's pitch.
He's so in love with her that he's willing to wait it out to the logical conclusion of the story. And to keep locking himself in the bathroom at appropriate intervals.
He plays the mental footage of them from the Ranier op over and over in his head. Three years gone now and no less sharp than when it happened. He remembers how her skin tasted and how she shivered under his hands. They didn't fake it. That's what no one knows; it's the secret they'll both carry to the grave. He slid into her and she rocked into him and every single gasp was real. He savored every minute. The Vincent Gallo approach to acting… it's only convincing if Chloe Sevigny *actually* goes down on you for the cameras. Ziva was the consummate professional, never brings it up, even when they're sacked out on her couch marathoning Tarantino flicks. And if it weren't for the way she stares at *him* when he's not looking --and even when he is-- he'd think she doesn't love him back.
**
She cannot quite picture taking Tony home to Tel Aviv. It's not his world; maybe it's not even her world anymore. But it's the foregone conclusion, no? Sometime in the next year or two, they will stop this train because they want to get it on. (Or is it "get off"? Four years in this country and the idioms still confuse her!) She watches him from across the squad room sometimes and sees it in his eyes. The way his gaze lingers on her, the way he watches her unconsciously play with the chain of her Star of David.
He has their future scripted out like one of his movies. Boy meets Girl. Boy annoys Girl to point where she wants to castrate him. Boy and Girl admit they love each other and marry in beautiful interfaith ceremony. Boy and Girl have a son with his father's beautiful eyes.
Okay. Maybe this is Ziva's movie. The kind she would never admit to watching because nothing blows up and there's no plot-less sex. And make no error, Ziva likes plot-less sex. Sex in general, really. But she has not had any in so long she's begun to forget what it's like with someone else. All she has is the porno reel of her own hand and the memory of Tony's touching her in nearly the same way. And when she goes over, she calls out his name. And it does not matter that she hides these impulses in the light of day, that she hits Tony and mocks him and pretends she does not care if he goes out with his dozens of girlfriends. He looks at her and he knows that the hours between midnight and five a.m. belong to him.
He knows she wants him, loves him, and spins silly fantasies of taking him home to meet her family. But he wants to drag out the drama until they are both so hungry for one another that it hurts to do anything else but be together. This is the kind of thing that would satisfy Tony's inner Spielberg. ("More Merchant Ivory, wouldn't you think, Officer David? All that repressed longing?") The right moment. The right set up. The perfect dialogue.
But Ziva likes explosions. Perhaps this is why she one day decides she has had enough.
Waiting a year for the train to stop just is not feasible. She wants to get off now. She wants to get it on now. Even if this is not in Tony's plan, even if he thinks they need to wait for the third movie in the Godfather trilogy.
She twists on the sofa, satisfied to see that Tony is not really watching Jackie Brown (Foxy Brown, he'd told her, is a really hot female performer), and she announces, "I am tired of waiting, Tony. I want us to junk the shark."
"Jump, Ziva. You want us to *jump*," he corrects automatically.
"Exactly," she says, before she takes the leap and kisses him.
--end--
January 31, 2009