"Wish I Hadn't" - Tony/Ziva
disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed, but a little closer.
warnings & notes: Even more mush with a sprinkling of angst on top, but nothing else that requires a warning. Continuation of Wish You Were and Wish We Could. Reading them first gives this one much more sense, trust me.
word count: a little over 3,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Wish I Hadn't
She's nervous while she waits for Tony, and not for the first time she asks herself if calling him from the airport really was a good idea. But her flight's been redirected, and now she is facing a two-hour drive home, and she's not willing to spend that much on a cab. And since she couldn't reach Abby and Gibbs is in Stillwater over the holidays, there's only Tony left because she knows he'd be hurt if she had called McGee instead to pick her up. Especially after last night's talk.
Ziva sighs and rubs her tired eyes. She hasn't even seen him yet, and already this is turning into a nightmarish exercise in awkwardness.
Last night, it had all seemed so much easier.
They had talked for more than an hour, and by the end of that phone call Ziva had felt closer to Tony than ever before. And they had been so scarily honest with each other that it seems almost unreal in the bright light of this new day, while she is going back to DC. Going back to actually facing him, each day. Going back to looking him in the eye when she repeats that she likes him and that she wonders how it would be to kiss him these days, and dear god, she still can't believe she actually said that one out loud.
And that's the crux of the matter: Things are supposed to be different now because they talked about the past and the future and about change, and she knows for sure he'll have expectations now, just like she suddenly has them simply because they have shared so much in such a short time.
Maybe he'll even expect her to act like a girlfriend now instead of the Ziva he knows. Because yes, that much has been clear -- he wants more from her than what he gets at work, and he hasn't been happy with the status quo lately, just like Ziva hasn't. And things are supposed to change after they have both established that fact, but she has no idea how and if they would actually change for the better. Because in the bright light of morning he is still the same old Tony, and she is still the same old Ziva, and people just don't change fast enough to suddenly make things work when they didn't for the better part of five years. Not after just one snap of the fingers -- or, in this case, one phone call, no matter how frank and honest it had been.
She bites her lip nervously and finds her fingers playing with her hair again, twisting strands around her finger. It's a silly habit, and it's something girls do, flipping their hair like that, and so she digs around in her pocket until she finds a hair band and pulls her curls back into a tight ponytail. And she actually feels a little better after that, not quite as scatterbrained and confused, at least until she thinks that it's rather silly to rely on such a small thing to give her the illusion of being in control.
She moans and leans back in her seat and wonders once more how she is supposed to deal with all of this. With Tony, who is just now on his way to pick her up, and maybe he'll even kiss her right away because he really -- really -- wants to try that out. That has been made clear last night, too.
Of course, she could always pretend the whole thing never happened. She could blame it all on one night of emotional weakness (on her end) and alcohol (on his end), and she could act as if nothing was out of the ordinary today. People do that all the time, even if there has been much more to forget about between them, and for some of them it even works, right? So maybe it would be for the better if she--
Her head hurts, and she abandons the thought before she can talk herself into it. It wouldn't be fair, and for Tony and her it would never work, it would just cause them more distress.
"Hey," she hears him call, and she jumps in her seat, her eyes widening while she scans the crowd until she makes him out. She's not quite ready to face him yet, but she can't let him see that. Can't show him how fast her pulse is going suddenly and how much she wants things to be as easy between them as they were last night.
But she doesn't pull herself together fast enough, and when he strides towards her there's an outrageous grin on his face that makes her knees weak, and that brings her straight back to thinking all of this was a bad, bad, bad idea because she has never felt as vulnerable around him before.
"Hey," she replies quietly. Her eyes flicker all over the place suddenly, refusing to settle on him and meet his gaze, because that would require more bravery than she has with her today. But he doesn't notice at first, he just keeps smiling at her, and yes, that smile warms her in a way she has never allowed herself before. And that's the very thing that makes her even more nervous: Ziva usually isn't the kind of woman to get distracted by a smile and a wink and a warm feeling in her belly. She usually doesn't even have warm feelings towards her men.
Lust, yes. Fondness, too. Attraction, friendship, compassion, shared experiences? All of these. But never something that softens her gaze and makes her want to ruffle his hair and kiss him right here, right now -- not for sex, but just for the sake of simply sharing his presence, his breath, his--
She takes a deep breath and almost steps back when his fingertips stroke softly across the back of her hand while he brushes his lips against her cheek. It's too familiar a gesture, and at the same time it's not familiar enough, and she is no longer sure what she wants to happen here because what she wants confuses her and messes things up and leads to new habits and new ways of treating each other, and she still has no idea how to deal with any of this.
He notices her hesitation and the way she glances at him warily when he leans into her, and he pulls back faster than he probably intended to at first because suddenly there's awkwardness on his side, too. Her heart pounds in her throat when he smiles at her again, still radiant, but with a hint of insecurity this time.
"Here," he says. "Let me..."
And they are suddenly in each other's way because he reaches for her suitcase at the same time she grips it harder. She's really not sure if she wants him to carry her stuff because he's never done that before and it's just so strange that she has no idea how to react to it properly.
She lets him take the suitcase eventually, thinking that she was the one to initiate change after all, so she can at least try to go along with it. But while he steers her out of the hall and to his car, his hand is pressed tight against the small of her back, and for once she can't ignore it as something natural and just the usual between them.
Because it isn't. It's the same old way he used to touch her, yes. But now it suddenly means more. And it also means there's going to be more touching.
*** *** ***
They're doing even worse once they are stuck in the confines of his car. They try their best at playing it casual, but they never manage to go beyond meaningless, superficial topics, and eventually a simple question about the weather during her trip rattles Ziva's nerves enough that she suddenly grits her teeth and tells him to pull over, right now.
He does so without asking why, but out of the corner of her eye she sees how his jaw clenches in sudden frustration and maybe even anger. She blinks, staring at the dashboard while her heart suddenly thumps so hard in her chest that she has trouble breathing.
Why, oh why do things have to be so incredibly difficult just because suddenly they have to face each other again? Why can't it stay as simple and smooth as it was last night, when he--?
"This isn't working too well," she blurts out, and her fingers twitch nervously around the hem of her jacket.
His gaze is suddenly heavy on her. She still refuses to meet his eyes, but she knows he's looking at her now, scrutinizing her and asking her without words what's going on. And she really wishes she could give him an answer, but she really has no idea what's wrong all of a sudden, and she also has no clue how to set things right again, how to be the Ziva of last night again, the one who doesn't flinch when he tries to kiss her, the one who actually wants him to--
"Okay," he says, and she jumps because she feels caught in thoughts she isn't supposed to have.
Except that since last night, she is actually supposed to have them, and there's that damn confusion washing over her again and making her fidgety.
"Okay," he repeats while he unbuckles his seatbelt. And then he leans towards her, and her heartbeat thunders in her ears all of a sudden because having him this close is not unusual, but it's suddenly dangerous, and today it turns her mood and thoughts upside down. "So let's get one thing out of the way, right?"
She jumps again when he reaches for her seatbelt and opens it, too. His hand brushes her side while he does that, and her head whips around because her instincts are screaming at her to run now, to seek cover, because this can't be good, and he has her trapped now, and yes, maybe she really wants to run.
But maybe not.
Her breathing turns flat while she watches him run the seatbelt through his fingers, and he does it slowly, so slowly, giving her all the time in the world to stop him as he leans over her. And then, suddenly, he's so close that all she can do is stare at him with widening eyes, feeling like the proverbial hare in front of the snake.
"I've been thinking about this since I woke up this morning," he murmurs, and it shocks her to actually feel the echo of his words against her mouth, so warm, so close.
Too close, and she can't run, she's just sitting there and watches him lean over her even more, and his hand, the one that loosened her seatbelt, presses against the passenger side window now, maybe to support him, maybe to trap her. And she should care but she finds that she really doesn't because his mouth brushes against hers now, carefully, softly, but as easily as if he has already done this a hundred times to her.
For the fraction of a heartbeat she thinks about pushing him away. About asking him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. But then his lips press more firmly against hers, and she suddenly can't think straight because he's just too damn good at this and she just needs it to happen too much.
She knows he's watching her carefully, waiting for her reaction, and she knows it's her own damn fault this is going forward instead of back into the safe zone of partnership and work and responsibilities, but she really can't help it now, and her eyes flutter shut suddenly. Because he's really, really good at what he does, and she just wants him to keep going, wants it more than she would have expected a mere minute ago.
His tongue slips into her mouth now, and she can't help but let him in, with a tiny sound of shock on her lips while heat rushes through her with mad intensity. And oh god, he tastes so good that she almost forgets what she was so confused about earlier, because it's suddenly so easy again, so good, so natural to want more of this. She's been a fool not to want this before, and really, he--
His hand touches her cheek, and for some reason that snaps her out of it and makes her tear her mouth from his. Because nothing is ever that easy, and kissing him like this just complicates things even more because now it will be so much harder to ignore what they have done if it turns out there's a need for it.
He stares at her, heat in his eyes, but he's confused now, too, and she wants to say she's sorry but all she can do is open the door and stumble out of the car, away from him. She almost runs, and she doesn't even think about how to get home right now because she can still feel his lips on hers, and she knows she will need to run for miles until the sensation subsides to something she can push away until it no longer bothers her.
Her phone rings, and she digs it out of her pocket. She doesn't even bother to look at the caller ID because for some reason her sight is all blurred now, and so she just snaps it open and growls, "What?"
"Don't do that, Ziva." His voice is so eerily calm against her ear that she actually freezes in her tracks.
"Do what, Tony?" She wants to snarl and sound angry and annoyed, but all she manages is just more of the same frustration.
"Don't run off like that," he says, and she knows what he really means is 'Don't run away from me'. She turns around and glares back at him, and finally there's a hint of anger rising in her, only she isn't sure this time if it's her partner or her own stupidity she is angry with.
He's standing beside his car and watching her, phone pressed to his ear, and for a minute he just stares at her quietly while she hears his slow breathing over the phone.
"Why?" she asks eventually, and he blinks, all of a sudden not sure what to say.
"Well, for one, your bag's still in my trunk," he replies, trying to make light again, and she suddenly hates this dance, hates it so much that the emotion finally translates into words.
"Have fun with my laundry then."
"Oh, so what, I get your panties, but I don't get you?" He almost sneers the words, and he's so good at mirroring her anger, just like he's always been.
They've always been perfect at screwing each other up with just a few words. And this is exactly what she was afraid of. She just had no idea it would happen so soon.
"Tony," she says, hesitantly, not sure how to tell him that maybe they have made a mistake. But she has no chance to do that because he interrupts her with her own name flowing from his lips.
"Ziva," he mutters, and she meets his eyes and a hot flush creeps into her cheeks at the way he stares at her. He's no longer angry. There's longing in his eyes, and he shakes his head when she takes another step away from him. "Please come back here so we can talk. Or kiss. Or whatever you want, okay? Just come back."
Her heart flutters in sudden excitement at the prospect of tasting his lips again, and she blinks, confused and ensnared. "I... I'm not sure this is a good idea," she whispers.
He tilts his head like a curious spaniel, just watching her quietly for a few moments while he thinks about this.
"Did you like kissing me?" he suddenly asks, and she opens her mouth to reply and finds that she can't answer that, at least not with words. Not while he keeps looking at her like that. So she nods. It's just a curt movement of the head, but it's enough to make him smile. Because he knows, of course, but he still needed her to admit it.
"And do you like me?" he continues.
And for some reason that simple question softens her face, because he knows that answer, too, but for some reason Ziva never really did, until now.
"More than I should," she says softly.
His smile widens, and god, right now she really wants to kiss him again.
"Then where's the fuckin problem?"
And it twists her feelings upside down again, but she suddenly realizes that he may be right. They shouldn't have a problem with any of this, not really. But it's still hard work to snap her phone shut again and walk back towards his car. Her steps are slow, and her joints feel strangely stiff, as if her body refuses to obey her.
He's meeting her halfway, though, and his eyes stay fixed on her as if he's watching for another sign of her making a run for it. And she's still so very nervous, because yes, she likes him. She likes him so much, in fact, that she really doesn't want to screw this up, and that's what she usually does. But he doesn't even give her a chance to feel awkward this time. His hand just comes up against her neck to pull her closer instead of talking, and it feels easy to wrap her own arms around him and burrow her face into his chest. Maybe it's just a reflex, born out of many hours of working together and simply getting him.
"Why can't this be a little easier?" she sighs, and his arms tighten around her as if he prepares for her to break away again. "Like last night. That seemed effortless."
And Tony suddenly lets go of the breath he has been holding, and he relaxes and laughs into the curve of her neck. His hand runs down her back slowly, and she turns into his embrace, seeking more because it feels good.
"Girl, you wouldn't recognize easy if it bit you in the ass," he chuckles suddenly, and she pulls back a little so she can glare at him, frowning.
"Look who's walking," she starts out but she doesn't get any further because he gives her that wicked smile again. And then his lips are on hers again and steal her breath and make her heart pound so hard that she has to grab his coat to keep her knees from buckling. And oh... oh yes, that's a way to shut her up effectively.
"I call easy," he murmurs long moments later, breathless and amused and more than just a little turned on this time.
And she knows that she should be annoyed with him now because that's how things have always been, after all. But she can't bring herself to get worked up about it, and maybe he's right, maybe she has just never recognized how easy it could be.
It shouldn't be this easy, not after everything they've been through together. But then he brushes his thumb down her cheek and smiles at her, and maybe their past is exactly the thing that makes it a lot less hard in the end. And maybe taking this into a new direction doesn't have to change everything they know at once.
"Don't flatter yourself," she says, giving him a smile of her own, and her voice is so rough now that his eyes sparkle in sudden amusement. "You just have a very shapely knee."
She tries to keep a straight face but it doesn't work, not while he's still touching her like that. He grins at her and suddenly laughs while he slings his arm around her shoulders and drags her back towards the car. And she's strangely glad he does that because her knees are still weak, and on top of that she's getting cold now. The car promises more warmth and maybe more kissing.
"You'll be the death of me," he says, and Ziva feels something tight inside her unravel while she laughs and follows his example and tentatively sneaks her arm around his waist.
"Maybe," she agrees and leans into him until his arm tightens around her. "But you'll have so much fun going down."
And that wasn't all that hard.
*** *** ***
warnings & notes: Even more mush with a sprinkling of angst on top, but nothing else that requires a warning. Continuation of Wish You Were and Wish We Could. Reading them first gives this one much more sense, trust me.
word count: a little over 3,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Wish I Hadn't
She's nervous while she waits for Tony, and not for the first time she asks herself if calling him from the airport really was a good idea. But her flight's been redirected, and now she is facing a two-hour drive home, and she's not willing to spend that much on a cab. And since she couldn't reach Abby and Gibbs is in Stillwater over the holidays, there's only Tony left because she knows he'd be hurt if she had called McGee instead to pick her up. Especially after last night's talk.
Ziva sighs and rubs her tired eyes. She hasn't even seen him yet, and already this is turning into a nightmarish exercise in awkwardness.
Last night, it had all seemed so much easier.
They had talked for more than an hour, and by the end of that phone call Ziva had felt closer to Tony than ever before. And they had been so scarily honest with each other that it seems almost unreal in the bright light of this new day, while she is going back to DC. Going back to actually facing him, each day. Going back to looking him in the eye when she repeats that she likes him and that she wonders how it would be to kiss him these days, and dear god, she still can't believe she actually said that one out loud.
And that's the crux of the matter: Things are supposed to be different now because they talked about the past and the future and about change, and she knows for sure he'll have expectations now, just like she suddenly has them simply because they have shared so much in such a short time.
Maybe he'll even expect her to act like a girlfriend now instead of the Ziva he knows. Because yes, that much has been clear -- he wants more from her than what he gets at work, and he hasn't been happy with the status quo lately, just like Ziva hasn't. And things are supposed to change after they have both established that fact, but she has no idea how and if they would actually change for the better. Because in the bright light of morning he is still the same old Tony, and she is still the same old Ziva, and people just don't change fast enough to suddenly make things work when they didn't for the better part of five years. Not after just one snap of the fingers -- or, in this case, one phone call, no matter how frank and honest it had been.
She bites her lip nervously and finds her fingers playing with her hair again, twisting strands around her finger. It's a silly habit, and it's something girls do, flipping their hair like that, and so she digs around in her pocket until she finds a hair band and pulls her curls back into a tight ponytail. And she actually feels a little better after that, not quite as scatterbrained and confused, at least until she thinks that it's rather silly to rely on such a small thing to give her the illusion of being in control.
She moans and leans back in her seat and wonders once more how she is supposed to deal with all of this. With Tony, who is just now on his way to pick her up, and maybe he'll even kiss her right away because he really -- really -- wants to try that out. That has been made clear last night, too.
Of course, she could always pretend the whole thing never happened. She could blame it all on one night of emotional weakness (on her end) and alcohol (on his end), and she could act as if nothing was out of the ordinary today. People do that all the time, even if there has been much more to forget about between them, and for some of them it even works, right? So maybe it would be for the better if she--
Her head hurts, and she abandons the thought before she can talk herself into it. It wouldn't be fair, and for Tony and her it would never work, it would just cause them more distress.
"Hey," she hears him call, and she jumps in her seat, her eyes widening while she scans the crowd until she makes him out. She's not quite ready to face him yet, but she can't let him see that. Can't show him how fast her pulse is going suddenly and how much she wants things to be as easy between them as they were last night.
But she doesn't pull herself together fast enough, and when he strides towards her there's an outrageous grin on his face that makes her knees weak, and that brings her straight back to thinking all of this was a bad, bad, bad idea because she has never felt as vulnerable around him before.
"Hey," she replies quietly. Her eyes flicker all over the place suddenly, refusing to settle on him and meet his gaze, because that would require more bravery than she has with her today. But he doesn't notice at first, he just keeps smiling at her, and yes, that smile warms her in a way she has never allowed herself before. And that's the very thing that makes her even more nervous: Ziva usually isn't the kind of woman to get distracted by a smile and a wink and a warm feeling in her belly. She usually doesn't even have warm feelings towards her men.
Lust, yes. Fondness, too. Attraction, friendship, compassion, shared experiences? All of these. But never something that softens her gaze and makes her want to ruffle his hair and kiss him right here, right now -- not for sex, but just for the sake of simply sharing his presence, his breath, his--
She takes a deep breath and almost steps back when his fingertips stroke softly across the back of her hand while he brushes his lips against her cheek. It's too familiar a gesture, and at the same time it's not familiar enough, and she is no longer sure what she wants to happen here because what she wants confuses her and messes things up and leads to new habits and new ways of treating each other, and she still has no idea how to deal with any of this.
He notices her hesitation and the way she glances at him warily when he leans into her, and he pulls back faster than he probably intended to at first because suddenly there's awkwardness on his side, too. Her heart pounds in her throat when he smiles at her again, still radiant, but with a hint of insecurity this time.
"Here," he says. "Let me..."
And they are suddenly in each other's way because he reaches for her suitcase at the same time she grips it harder. She's really not sure if she wants him to carry her stuff because he's never done that before and it's just so strange that she has no idea how to react to it properly.
She lets him take the suitcase eventually, thinking that she was the one to initiate change after all, so she can at least try to go along with it. But while he steers her out of the hall and to his car, his hand is pressed tight against the small of her back, and for once she can't ignore it as something natural and just the usual between them.
Because it isn't. It's the same old way he used to touch her, yes. But now it suddenly means more. And it also means there's going to be more touching.
*** *** ***
They're doing even worse once they are stuck in the confines of his car. They try their best at playing it casual, but they never manage to go beyond meaningless, superficial topics, and eventually a simple question about the weather during her trip rattles Ziva's nerves enough that she suddenly grits her teeth and tells him to pull over, right now.
He does so without asking why, but out of the corner of her eye she sees how his jaw clenches in sudden frustration and maybe even anger. She blinks, staring at the dashboard while her heart suddenly thumps so hard in her chest that she has trouble breathing.
Why, oh why do things have to be so incredibly difficult just because suddenly they have to face each other again? Why can't it stay as simple and smooth as it was last night, when he--?
"This isn't working too well," she blurts out, and her fingers twitch nervously around the hem of her jacket.
His gaze is suddenly heavy on her. She still refuses to meet his eyes, but she knows he's looking at her now, scrutinizing her and asking her without words what's going on. And she really wishes she could give him an answer, but she really has no idea what's wrong all of a sudden, and she also has no clue how to set things right again, how to be the Ziva of last night again, the one who doesn't flinch when he tries to kiss her, the one who actually wants him to--
"Okay," he says, and she jumps because she feels caught in thoughts she isn't supposed to have.
Except that since last night, she is actually supposed to have them, and there's that damn confusion washing over her again and making her fidgety.
"Okay," he repeats while he unbuckles his seatbelt. And then he leans towards her, and her heartbeat thunders in her ears all of a sudden because having him this close is not unusual, but it's suddenly dangerous, and today it turns her mood and thoughts upside down. "So let's get one thing out of the way, right?"
She jumps again when he reaches for her seatbelt and opens it, too. His hand brushes her side while he does that, and her head whips around because her instincts are screaming at her to run now, to seek cover, because this can't be good, and he has her trapped now, and yes, maybe she really wants to run.
But maybe not.
Her breathing turns flat while she watches him run the seatbelt through his fingers, and he does it slowly, so slowly, giving her all the time in the world to stop him as he leans over her. And then, suddenly, he's so close that all she can do is stare at him with widening eyes, feeling like the proverbial hare in front of the snake.
"I've been thinking about this since I woke up this morning," he murmurs, and it shocks her to actually feel the echo of his words against her mouth, so warm, so close.
Too close, and she can't run, she's just sitting there and watches him lean over her even more, and his hand, the one that loosened her seatbelt, presses against the passenger side window now, maybe to support him, maybe to trap her. And she should care but she finds that she really doesn't because his mouth brushes against hers now, carefully, softly, but as easily as if he has already done this a hundred times to her.
For the fraction of a heartbeat she thinks about pushing him away. About asking him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. But then his lips press more firmly against hers, and she suddenly can't think straight because he's just too damn good at this and she just needs it to happen too much.
She knows he's watching her carefully, waiting for her reaction, and she knows it's her own damn fault this is going forward instead of back into the safe zone of partnership and work and responsibilities, but she really can't help it now, and her eyes flutter shut suddenly. Because he's really, really good at what he does, and she just wants him to keep going, wants it more than she would have expected a mere minute ago.
His tongue slips into her mouth now, and she can't help but let him in, with a tiny sound of shock on her lips while heat rushes through her with mad intensity. And oh god, he tastes so good that she almost forgets what she was so confused about earlier, because it's suddenly so easy again, so good, so natural to want more of this. She's been a fool not to want this before, and really, he--
His hand touches her cheek, and for some reason that snaps her out of it and makes her tear her mouth from his. Because nothing is ever that easy, and kissing him like this just complicates things even more because now it will be so much harder to ignore what they have done if it turns out there's a need for it.
He stares at her, heat in his eyes, but he's confused now, too, and she wants to say she's sorry but all she can do is open the door and stumble out of the car, away from him. She almost runs, and she doesn't even think about how to get home right now because she can still feel his lips on hers, and she knows she will need to run for miles until the sensation subsides to something she can push away until it no longer bothers her.
Her phone rings, and she digs it out of her pocket. She doesn't even bother to look at the caller ID because for some reason her sight is all blurred now, and so she just snaps it open and growls, "What?"
"Don't do that, Ziva." His voice is so eerily calm against her ear that she actually freezes in her tracks.
"Do what, Tony?" She wants to snarl and sound angry and annoyed, but all she manages is just more of the same frustration.
"Don't run off like that," he says, and she knows what he really means is 'Don't run away from me'. She turns around and glares back at him, and finally there's a hint of anger rising in her, only she isn't sure this time if it's her partner or her own stupidity she is angry with.
He's standing beside his car and watching her, phone pressed to his ear, and for a minute he just stares at her quietly while she hears his slow breathing over the phone.
"Why?" she asks eventually, and he blinks, all of a sudden not sure what to say.
"Well, for one, your bag's still in my trunk," he replies, trying to make light again, and she suddenly hates this dance, hates it so much that the emotion finally translates into words.
"Have fun with my laundry then."
"Oh, so what, I get your panties, but I don't get you?" He almost sneers the words, and he's so good at mirroring her anger, just like he's always been.
They've always been perfect at screwing each other up with just a few words. And this is exactly what she was afraid of. She just had no idea it would happen so soon.
"Tony," she says, hesitantly, not sure how to tell him that maybe they have made a mistake. But she has no chance to do that because he interrupts her with her own name flowing from his lips.
"Ziva," he mutters, and she meets his eyes and a hot flush creeps into her cheeks at the way he stares at her. He's no longer angry. There's longing in his eyes, and he shakes his head when she takes another step away from him. "Please come back here so we can talk. Or kiss. Or whatever you want, okay? Just come back."
Her heart flutters in sudden excitement at the prospect of tasting his lips again, and she blinks, confused and ensnared. "I... I'm not sure this is a good idea," she whispers.
He tilts his head like a curious spaniel, just watching her quietly for a few moments while he thinks about this.
"Did you like kissing me?" he suddenly asks, and she opens her mouth to reply and finds that she can't answer that, at least not with words. Not while he keeps looking at her like that. So she nods. It's just a curt movement of the head, but it's enough to make him smile. Because he knows, of course, but he still needed her to admit it.
"And do you like me?" he continues.
And for some reason that simple question softens her face, because he knows that answer, too, but for some reason Ziva never really did, until now.
"More than I should," she says softly.
His smile widens, and god, right now she really wants to kiss him again.
"Then where's the fuckin problem?"
And it twists her feelings upside down again, but she suddenly realizes that he may be right. They shouldn't have a problem with any of this, not really. But it's still hard work to snap her phone shut again and walk back towards his car. Her steps are slow, and her joints feel strangely stiff, as if her body refuses to obey her.
He's meeting her halfway, though, and his eyes stay fixed on her as if he's watching for another sign of her making a run for it. And she's still so very nervous, because yes, she likes him. She likes him so much, in fact, that she really doesn't want to screw this up, and that's what she usually does. But he doesn't even give her a chance to feel awkward this time. His hand just comes up against her neck to pull her closer instead of talking, and it feels easy to wrap her own arms around him and burrow her face into his chest. Maybe it's just a reflex, born out of many hours of working together and simply getting him.
"Why can't this be a little easier?" she sighs, and his arms tighten around her as if he prepares for her to break away again. "Like last night. That seemed effortless."
And Tony suddenly lets go of the breath he has been holding, and he relaxes and laughs into the curve of her neck. His hand runs down her back slowly, and she turns into his embrace, seeking more because it feels good.
"Girl, you wouldn't recognize easy if it bit you in the ass," he chuckles suddenly, and she pulls back a little so she can glare at him, frowning.
"Look who's walking," she starts out but she doesn't get any further because he gives her that wicked smile again. And then his lips are on hers again and steal her breath and make her heart pound so hard that she has to grab his coat to keep her knees from buckling. And oh... oh yes, that's a way to shut her up effectively.
"I call easy," he murmurs long moments later, breathless and amused and more than just a little turned on this time.
And she knows that she should be annoyed with him now because that's how things have always been, after all. But she can't bring herself to get worked up about it, and maybe he's right, maybe she has just never recognized how easy it could be.
It shouldn't be this easy, not after everything they've been through together. But then he brushes his thumb down her cheek and smiles at her, and maybe their past is exactly the thing that makes it a lot less hard in the end. And maybe taking this into a new direction doesn't have to change everything they know at once.
"Don't flatter yourself," she says, giving him a smile of her own, and her voice is so rough now that his eyes sparkle in sudden amusement. "You just have a very shapely knee."
She tries to keep a straight face but it doesn't work, not while he's still touching her like that. He grins at her and suddenly laughs while he slings his arm around her shoulders and drags her back towards the car. And she's strangely glad he does that because her knees are still weak, and on top of that she's getting cold now. The car promises more warmth and maybe more kissing.
"You'll be the death of me," he says, and Ziva feels something tight inside her unravel while she laughs and follows his example and tentatively sneaks her arm around his waist.
"Maybe," she agrees and leans into him until his arm tightens around her. "But you'll have so much fun going down."
And that wasn't all that hard.
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