Comfort in the Bottle
Pairing: G Callen/Ziva David
Summary: "It took 3 hours and a bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey to find something they've both been looking for - comfort."
Category: Angst/Comfort
Disclaimer: Not mine.
It isn't often she frequented places like this - she isn't much of a drinker - but after the day she's had she figures what the hell. She walks the aisles not really knowing what it is she's looking for; all she does know is that she wants something that will numb the pain. She's not let herself be a fool over a man in so long that she's forgotten just how ego bruising it can be, and she curses herself for ever being so stupid.
She passes by the fruity drinks and scoffs. She's no barbie, so she won't buy those drinks out of principle alone. She can't be that type of woman - so she won't drink their type of drink. She needs something stronger, something that reflects the type of woman she is.
She turns into the next aisle, noticing a familiar figure. Standing in the middle of the whiskey section is Callen. She's not surprised to see him here. He's got some exorcising of his own to do, and he's chosen a bottle of Jameson's to keep the demons at bay. When he finally glances up, he locks eyes with her.
She's not sure how to approach him, and her social skills aren't the best. Luckily, he takes the lead.
"Ziva." For a minute he looks like he might say more, but soon that minute passes and all that's left is silence. So, instead, she speaks.
"Want someone to share that with?" She asks. After all, he doesn't really look like he needs to be alone, and if there was anyone that knew about heartbreak - it was Callen.
He stares at her for a long minute. She knows he's debating whether or not it's wise to get drunk with his ex-girlfriend's friend. "Sure."
They walk to the cash register in silence. He pays for the bottle and follows her the few blocks to her apartment.
Not saying much, they open the bottle and get right down to the business of getting drunk. She doesn't ask about Abby, she doesn't need to. After a few minutes of silence, he asks the one question she assumes has been on his mind the entire time.
"You don't strike me as much of drinker."
"And you want to know why I was in the liquor store." She finishes for him. He nods. "I've been a fool. I let myself get involved with a man I thought I knew - a man I thought I could trust."
"DiNozzo."
She doesn't confirm his statement, but they both know that she doesn't need to. Everyone knows about Ziva and Tony - just like everyone knows about Abby and Callen.
"Tony needs women who need him."
"And you didn't need him."
She looks away briefly. "No, I needed him. I just didn't need him the way he wanted to be needed. I am not a damsel in distress - I didn't need him to rescue me." She takes another swig of her single malt, and makes a face as she swallows. "I'm tough. I can take care of myself."
The hours pass and soon the bottle is empty, the last little bit of whiskey lingering in their glasses. She briefly considers suggesting that they go and get another bottle, (she's not near numb enough yet), but before she has the chance, Callen speaks.
"You haven't asked." And immediately she knows what he's talking about.
"I don't need to know."
"But you want to." She watches him with steady eyes. "God, I loved Abby." He pauses. "I love Abby." She can tell it's a difficult admission for him. Not saying anything, she waits. "I am not that guy. I could break her."
The rest of his thoughts go unsaid, but she knows, and she's not surprised. Callen's not been the same since his partner died, and she knows that given the chance he would break Abby. She can't fault him for being noble. She only wished Tony were half the man Callen is. After a long minute, Callen grabs his near empty glass and throws back the last swig. There is no more reason for him to stay, but Ziva doesn't want the night to end just yet. Even not speaking, there is something comfortable between them. She supposed that it came from them being so much alike. And one glance at him, tells her that he's not ready to leave. She offers to make coffee, and while it's no bottle of Jameson's, he accepts.
Making her way to the kitchen, she sets about brewing a pot. Callen joins her, standing in the doorway, holding the empty whiskey bottle his eyes following her every move. For the first time that night, she can tell she's buzzed as she feels flush. Wondering if Callen has noticed, she covertly slides her eyes in his direction. He's still standing there holding that damn bottle, but the look in his eyes is something she hasn't seen all night. She's afraid if she lets herself - she'll forget who he is - and why what she's thinking is a very bad idea.
She reaches out to take the bottle from him, but instead of handing it over, he grabs her wrist. "This is a bad idea." He says a split second before his mouth is on hers devouring her like he's a starving man who hasn't eaten in days. She agrees, but doesn't resist when he pulls her body flush against his. She needs this. She needs to be wanted.
She moans when his tongue sweeps inside her mouth, and all thoughts of how wrong this is are pushed to the back of her mind. Instead, she grabs for the empty bottle he's still holding, and sets it on the counter mentally cheering at herself for accomplishing such a feat when he's making rational thought difficult.
Grabbing at the hem of his dark t-shirt, she breaks away from him long enough to pull it over his head. Soon her hands are rubbing all along the hard planes of his chest - groping and clenching his hard muscles. Sometime during the heat of passion she feels him fumbling with the buttons to her shirt, and she resists the urge to tell him just to rip the damn thing off. He finally gets her shirt open, and she pants in pleasure at the feel of his mouth on her.
Tomorrow she'll regret this, because Abby is her friend who is still heartbroken over Callen and because Ziva is still in love with Tony, but for tonight, she just wants to feel.
Summary: "It took 3 hours and a bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey to find something they've both been looking for - comfort."
Category: Angst/Comfort
Disclaimer: Not mine.
It isn't often she frequented places like this - she isn't much of a drinker - but after the day she's had she figures what the hell. She walks the aisles not really knowing what it is she's looking for; all she does know is that she wants something that will numb the pain. She's not let herself be a fool over a man in so long that she's forgotten just how ego bruising it can be, and she curses herself for ever being so stupid.
She passes by the fruity drinks and scoffs. She's no barbie, so she won't buy those drinks out of principle alone. She can't be that type of woman - so she won't drink their type of drink. She needs something stronger, something that reflects the type of woman she is.
She turns into the next aisle, noticing a familiar figure. Standing in the middle of the whiskey section is Callen. She's not surprised to see him here. He's got some exorcising of his own to do, and he's chosen a bottle of Jameson's to keep the demons at bay. When he finally glances up, he locks eyes with her.
She's not sure how to approach him, and her social skills aren't the best. Luckily, he takes the lead.
"Ziva." For a minute he looks like he might say more, but soon that minute passes and all that's left is silence. So, instead, she speaks.
"Want someone to share that with?" She asks. After all, he doesn't really look like he needs to be alone, and if there was anyone that knew about heartbreak - it was Callen.
He stares at her for a long minute. She knows he's debating whether or not it's wise to get drunk with his ex-girlfriend's friend. "Sure."
They walk to the cash register in silence. He pays for the bottle and follows her the few blocks to her apartment.
Not saying much, they open the bottle and get right down to the business of getting drunk. She doesn't ask about Abby, she doesn't need to. After a few minutes of silence, he asks the one question she assumes has been on his mind the entire time.
"You don't strike me as much of drinker."
"And you want to know why I was in the liquor store." She finishes for him. He nods. "I've been a fool. I let myself get involved with a man I thought I knew - a man I thought I could trust."
"DiNozzo."
She doesn't confirm his statement, but they both know that she doesn't need to. Everyone knows about Ziva and Tony - just like everyone knows about Abby and Callen.
"Tony needs women who need him."
"And you didn't need him."
She looks away briefly. "No, I needed him. I just didn't need him the way he wanted to be needed. I am not a damsel in distress - I didn't need him to rescue me." She takes another swig of her single malt, and makes a face as she swallows. "I'm tough. I can take care of myself."
The hours pass and soon the bottle is empty, the last little bit of whiskey lingering in their glasses. She briefly considers suggesting that they go and get another bottle, (she's not near numb enough yet), but before she has the chance, Callen speaks.
"You haven't asked." And immediately she knows what he's talking about.
"I don't need to know."
"But you want to." She watches him with steady eyes. "God, I loved Abby." He pauses. "I love Abby." She can tell it's a difficult admission for him. Not saying anything, she waits. "I am not that guy. I could break her."
The rest of his thoughts go unsaid, but she knows, and she's not surprised. Callen's not been the same since his partner died, and she knows that given the chance he would break Abby. She can't fault him for being noble. She only wished Tony were half the man Callen is. After a long minute, Callen grabs his near empty glass and throws back the last swig. There is no more reason for him to stay, but Ziva doesn't want the night to end just yet. Even not speaking, there is something comfortable between them. She supposed that it came from them being so much alike. And one glance at him, tells her that he's not ready to leave. She offers to make coffee, and while it's no bottle of Jameson's, he accepts.
Making her way to the kitchen, she sets about brewing a pot. Callen joins her, standing in the doorway, holding the empty whiskey bottle his eyes following her every move. For the first time that night, she can tell she's buzzed as she feels flush. Wondering if Callen has noticed, she covertly slides her eyes in his direction. He's still standing there holding that damn bottle, but the look in his eyes is something she hasn't seen all night. She's afraid if she lets herself - she'll forget who he is - and why what she's thinking is a very bad idea.
She reaches out to take the bottle from him, but instead of handing it over, he grabs her wrist. "This is a bad idea." He says a split second before his mouth is on hers devouring her like he's a starving man who hasn't eaten in days. She agrees, but doesn't resist when he pulls her body flush against his. She needs this. She needs to be wanted.
She moans when his tongue sweeps inside her mouth, and all thoughts of how wrong this is are pushed to the back of her mind. Instead, she grabs for the empty bottle he's still holding, and sets it on the counter mentally cheering at herself for accomplishing such a feat when he's making rational thought difficult.
Grabbing at the hem of his dark t-shirt, she breaks away from him long enough to pull it over his head. Soon her hands are rubbing all along the hard planes of his chest - groping and clenching his hard muscles. Sometime during the heat of passion she feels him fumbling with the buttons to her shirt, and she resists the urge to tell him just to rip the damn thing off. He finally gets her shirt open, and she pants in pleasure at the feel of his mouth on her.
Tomorrow she'll regret this, because Abby is her friend who is still heartbroken over Callen and because Ziva is still in love with Tony, but for tonight, she just wants to feel.