"Baby Steps" - Tony/Ziva
disclaimer: So not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed.
notes & warnings: We're picking up right where we left them. Then we move smoothly into the happenings of 9x04 "Enemy on the Hill", so yes, once more -- spoilers for that episode.
Fourth part in the "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder" series. Will not make sense if you haven't read the previous parts: one two three
We're still at a snail's pace, but it feels oddly right.
word count: 4,800
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Baby Steps
She's certainly relaxed enough that he catches her sliding down on her side of the couch not too long after, and so the evening ends before the movie does, with her feet in his lap and Ziva making happy little sleeping sounds.
There's about an hour left to the movie, and he leaves it running in the background, but for some reason Tony finds his attention drifting away from it in increasingly short intervals. Maybe it's simply because Ziva's face, all soft and mellow, makes for a more tempting visual than Robert DeNiro's.
*** *** ***
He sighs when the end credits roll. It means he finally has to get up and stop pretending he's in this for the man-made masterpiece and not the natural one. He's as careful as possible when he slides her legs off his lap and gets a blanket for her. If she wakes, she'll leave, and there's no reason for that, really. It's the weekend, and they're both wasted, and so he doesn't think it's a good idea to let her drive all tired and vaguely drunk. (At least that sounds good in his head.)
She curls tighter around the pillow for a second while he drapes the blanket over her, and Tony is pretty glad she's not looking at him right now. His face probably shows all too clearly how tempted he is to just lean down and kiss her forehead. Which they don't do, as a rule. No kissing, unless it's on an undercover job.
He's about to straighten up again when Ziva suddenly stirs and gasps. Her hand shoots out to grab his wrist as if she wants to stop him from coming any closer when, in fact, she keeps him from leaving. Yeah, sometimes she's jumpy like that.
"Just me," he murmurs softly and gives in to temptation after all: he reaches out with the hand she doesn't have a death grip on and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "Go back to sleep. I'll drive you home in the morning."
For a heartbeat he's sure she will object. That she'll get up now and compose herself and be all businesslike again. Then the tension flows out of her as suddenly as it came, and she closes her eyes again.
"Mm'kay," she mumbles, and her hand relaxes, too. Slides up his wrist and ends up in his palm, fingers mingling loosely with his.
Tony blinks. Stares down at her hand. His throat is weirdly tight -- not in the bad way, more like there's a need to say something now, he's just not sure what. Then he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze and whispers, "You're killing me here, Ziva..."
She makes a sound that's halfway to a contented purr, and while she lets go of his hand and turns her back to him, she slurs, "No' yet..."
And yeah, that kinda makes him smile. Go figure.
*** *** ***
She's still relaxed in the morning, and that's probably the best part about it. That and the fact that she's in no real rush to get home, so while she's in the shower, he puts out one of his shirts for her to borrow and then runs off to get fresh croissants and an extra-large coffee. (The spicy blend she likes so much.) He doesn't even think about it. It's just the natural thing to do.
It's probably just as well that he doesn't bother to stop and ponder his reasons for being nice. If he did, the result would most likely freak him out. Just a little.
*** *** ***
Her good mood sticks until Monday, and it amuses him to see her park her lovely rear end on Gibbs's desk the way she does, like it's her personal playground and she's allowed to do that. (Well, she probably is, since Gibbs doesn't object. Doesn't even bother to react, in fact.)
Tony's own mood, on the other hand, takes a slight dive when their fearless leader lets it slip that Ziva will be Brett's shadow because the Lieutenant Commander has a crush on their in-house assassin.
He knows the guy isn't Ziva's type. But it's still worth a pout.
*** *** ***
She's pretty mad when Tony takes her call, and he frowns when she asks him if he could pick her up. "Sure," he says, and she tells him where she is, then hangs up on him, just like Gibbs usually does.
It doesn't even occur to him to suggest calling a cab.
*** *** ***
He rounds the corner just as she kicks something into the darkness. He can't see what it is (probably not something fluffy, if her expression is anything to go by), but he can tell she probably kicked around a lot of things in the thirty minutes she's been waiting for him to show up.
"That bad?" he asks when she gets into the car and buckles up, still fuming.
"He ditched me," she replies. It's the only thing she says on the whole way back to the Yard, and Tony is glad he's not the one she wants to kick around.
*** *** ***
She tells McGee to track Brett's cell phone, but the guy's not stupid, he turned it off, of course. Which doesn't improve Ziva's mood.
She's just about to kick the stuffing out of the candy machine when Tony catches up with her in the break room. For a moment he watches her anger unfold because she's a tiny force of nature when she's like this. Then he asks, "Are you done?", and Ziva turns her head and looks at him and then kind of deflates before his eyes.
With a sigh she flops down on one of the chairs, and her lower lips does that pouty thing that always gets him so good. He can't fight the brief tingle it brings up in him. "He ditched me," she repeats as if that explains everything.
And in a weird way it does, so much that he mirrors her sigh without even noticing it.
"I get it," he says and drags a second chair over so it's a little easier to look into her eyes. He's, technically, a lot closer than he needs to be for that, with his knees bracketing hers and him leaning in until it seems a little too easy to touch her. She doesn't notice, though. She's still trapped in the angry monologue of beating herself up over being tricked.
"No, you don't," she shoots back heatedly. "Because I knew it, Tony. I sensed the whole day that he wanted to get rid of me, and I still let him trick me."
She makes a furious wavy gesture in front of his face, and Tony grabs her hand and tugs until it rests almost in his lap. He half-expects her to drag her fingers out of his grip with even more heat, and yeah, there's a slight ripple of tension rolling through her. But then she just lets him touch her. She's quiet for a moment, just stares at her own hand in his while his thumb suddenly develops a life of its own and strokes the mound of her hand soothingly.
"I get it, Ziva," he repeats, and she jerks slightly, her nostrils flaring. For a second the angry frown between her eyebrows deepens. Then she turns her head to the side, and a tiny flush creeps into her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I should not take my frustration out on you." She tries to pull her hand away and get up, but Tony doesn't let go. He leans a little more into her personal space instead, and that makes her glance back at him. This time she looks a little confused and distracted.
He knows this is the moment to say something nice and supportive and then let go of her hand because the gesture served its purpose, after all -- he got her to listen. But things are never as easy as they seem between them, and so he finds himself somewhat stuck in touch, finds his thumb stroking her skin gently until her body softens up and her attention shifts. And then she is the one who inches a little closer, and he suddenly knows it wouldn't take all that much to make her forget about her anger altogether.
"We all need that sometimes," he says before he can give in to that particular urge. He gives her his best puppy dog eyes until she sighs and slumps back in her chair.
"Since when are you so... understanding?" Her chin comes up, and she looks vaguely stubborn, as if she already feels her irritation slipping away, but tries to hold on to it for just a little longer.
And Tony can't help the laugh, even though he looks away this time so he doesn't have to meet her eyes. Feels safer. "Since I get to touch you?" he slips up anyway, and yeah, he cloaks it in a lighthearted joke, but there's still a sudden burst of nervousness that makes his skin itch.
Ziva doesn't reply right away, just lowers her head and stares at his wrist resting on her thigh. Which doesn't help.
Then her fingers curl around his experimentally, and he blinks at the unexpected feeling of intimacy washing over him.
"That is nice," she agrees, and he looks at her with his pulse doing strange things all of a sudden. Her mouth curves into a smile when she notices, and Tony blinks while her fingers return the careful caress he snuck in earlier.
Oh, this is bad, he thinks and stares at her. His eyes widen a little, and his pulse flip-flops. It's not bad-bad, really. It's more like a dangerous path, dark and unexplored and straight into the woods and all that. He's not quite sure he's brave enough to explore that road, so he desperately tries to come up with a smooth way to handle this and not screw things up completely in the process.
In the end he settles for grinning at her like he didn't mean half of what he said. It's a tried technique. He used it on her a lot of times. "Come on," he says, gets up and drags her along. "I feel like getting you drunk and then driving you home."
She stays in her chair at first, but he tugs at her arm, and so she gets up with a long-suffering sigh. He doesn't stop, though, he tugs again until she bumps into him with a soft oomph, and before he knows how it happened, his arm is kinda slung around her shoulders.
Later, he would never be entirely sure if he planned that or if he just went with the flow of the movement. But right now he doesn't care about that, because after a moment's hesitation Ziva puts her arm around his waist and leans into him a little more, and while he walks her out his lips somehow, sort of, end up brushing against her temple. Which doesn't feel half bad.
*** *** ***
He notices the looks McGee shoots his way while Tony is trying to loosen up Drew Turner. At first he thinks it's just normal Probie behavior. He's not prepared for the scalding wave of disapproval that hits him when they leave her office, though, and for a moment that throws him completely off track.
"Okay, what's with the face, McSourpuss?" he prods when McGee doesn't say a word and sticks to glaring.
There's clearly something chewing away at the Probie. Tony thinks at first he might have to dig deeper because McGee's face clams up even more at the question. But then Timmy turns his head and scowls at him and asks in return, "Why did you just do that?"
He blinks, confused. "Do what?"
"Hit on her like that."
Now that's a stupid question if he ever heard one. "You saw her, right, Probie? All hot and cute?" And looking a bit like someone he knows, especially in that picture of her in the camo pants?
But McGee's frown only deepens, and that's when Tony steps in his way to get to the bottom of this, even if he needs to use brute force. "Okay, what did I miss here? What's with the condescending looks?"
For a second it looks like McGee wants to ignore the question and step around him, but then he raises his chin and looks at Tony in a clear challenge. "I saw you," he says as if that explains it all. It doesn't, and so Tony blinks at him some more until McGee elaborates. "Last night. With Ziva."
He rolls that line around in his head a few times while he tries to remember if there was anything scandalous to be seen last night. He's leaning towards nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then he suddenly remembers the touching and the hands, and yeah, he feels flushed because now he gets it.
"I'm not cheating on Ziva," he says. The scowl keeps sticking to McGee's face, though, and so Tony looks at him straight on and says, "She was about ready to clam up on you and your stick-in-the-mud attitude. A little flirting kept her amiable, that's it."
It's only when McGee tilts his head and looks at him a certain way that he realizes he may have picked the wrong thing to protest about.
*** *** ***
He sees her slip out of the conference room with an expression that says she needs to blow off some steam badly or she'll hurt someone. So, naturally, he sneaks after her into the break room.
He rounds the corner while she's sipping her coffee of the new-machine-of-awesomeness variety, and he knows she noticed him because she pours him one, too. Her shoulders are drawn tight again, and by now it's almost a reflex to put his hands to her neck and try to loosen her up. Just a little, just to take her mind off the worst of the tension. It's still a vague surprise when she moves into the touch, and that's what makes him realize he isn't used to this yet, after all.
"Having trouble with the Lieutenant Commander?" he guesses and puts a bit more effort into kneading the tension out. The little groan she gives him in return is... rewarding. (There's probably a more appropriate word for this, but right now Tony can't come up with one.)
"You have no idea," she forces out. Her shoulders bunch up a little more, and he makes a mental note to better avoid that particular topic. "He drives me nuts."
He laughs and digs his thumbs in a little deeper, and that lets Ziva's attention slip abruptly. Her head sags forward and her eyes close, and then she moans and murmurs, "God, you are too good at this..."
"Mhmm," he hums appreciatively while he inches closer. He can't help it, really, and she doesn't shove her elbow into his ribs, so he assumes for now she's okay with it. "Tell me more."
She gives him a throaty laugh, and yeah, he knows she's just distracted and she doesn't mean it like it feels on his skin. He still can't help the urge to lean into her and breathe in the scent of her shampoo. "It's no wonder McGee thinks there's something going on with us," he chuckles.
Ziva doesn't tense up outright, but she loses a bit of her relaxed stance and turns her head so she can look at him over her shoulder. "He does?"
Tony blinks. Swallows hard and wonders if he just made a mistake in telling her. If she'll draw back now and not let him touch her anymore. "Yeaaah. He cornered me earlier. And he was kind of blunt about it."
She's quiet while she mulls that one over, and part of him thinks this would be a good moment to step back and get some distance between them, just for appearance's sake. And to make it very clear that McGee was very obviously mistaken here. He just happened to watch them at the wrong moment.
But Tony finds that he can't let go now just yet. Because if he tries a little honesty with himself for once, he can't deny the fact that he really likes being this close to Ziva. He likes touching her, always has. He just likes it a little more since she started reacting to it. And it's weird, but she still hasn't urged him to take his hands off her.
"What did you tell him?" she asks eventually. Her voice is all calm and composed, but her gaze flicks up to meet his for a second, and that's when his heart stumbles over itself because there's more to that question. He suddenly finds himself thinking just as hard as Ziva a mere minute ago. And just like her, it doesn't get him anywhere.
"The usual," he shrugs in the end. His thumbs still draw slow circles between her shoulder blades, but he's distracted now by juggling truth and status quo. "Neither confirmed nor denied it. Keeping the mystery alive, you know."
He's confused when a hint of frustration flickers across her face. A fresh wave of tension creeps into her shoulders, and he doesn't want that, he wants her back to being relaxed and leaning into him and being a little noisy about it. But this is the moment to break apart after all because he hears steps coming down the hall, and so he never gets the opportunity to tell her that his talk with McGee may have been a little closer on the traitorous side.
*** *** ***
He gets a kick out of her voice all low and husky on the phone, even though he's not quite sure what provoked that. But then she calls him 'sweetheart', and he kinda likes the sound of that. And yeah. He supposes he could get used to that.
*** *** ***
He can't help the grin when they lead Brett out and the Lieutenant Commander shoots a glance at Ziva. Tony knows she's well aware of the look, but she doesn't react at all, she just keeps typing her report with these neatly timed keystrokes and a smug little smile ghosting around the corners of her mouth. That's what you get for messing with the ninja.
He dots his Is and crosses his Ts and finally powers down his computer, but even though they have long reached the point where they should end the day and go home, he doesn't really feel like it. He rather feels like celebrating because this was a pretty cool case and they cracked it, nice and smooth. And yeah, maybe because they haven't done this in a while, too. Not for feeling good at least. Just once or twice for getting over the bad things more easily.
"Come on," he says and grabs his backpack before he saunters over to Ziva's desk. She doesn't react outright, just gives him a curious glance and a quick smile, and so he sits on the edge of her desk until she has no chance but to acknowledge him. "Drinks are on me."
She blinks, then tilts her head and looks at him curiously. "Are you mortally ill and want to make your peace with the world?"
He gives her a grin, and it comes out as one of the loud, intrusive ones. The kind of grin that splits his face and puts big, fat dimples into his cheeks and usually makes Ziva smile in return before she even notices it herself. Just like now, when he leans a little closer and says in his best sincere-and-honest voice, "No. I just want to get you drunk."
And just like that, she gives him exactly the kind of smile he's been going for. "Oh," she says and winks at him. "In that case..."
He's still grinning like an idiot when she grabs her stuff and joins him. It's probably a good thing McGee isn't here anymore to watch this.
*** *** ***
His hand ends up in the small of her back while they're waiting for the elevator, and he doesn't even notice it until she leans into him. Just a bit, just enough to make him feel it. He turns his head to look at her, and that's when Ziva realizes what she's doing, too. They break apart like they were just caught doing something they're not supposed to be doing, and for the few seconds it takes until the arriving elevator allows them to step out of their blunder, they radiate an almost mcgeeish awkwardness.
Tony breathes out carefully when he steps into the cabin. For a heartbeat an overwhelming sensation of relief washes over him. Relief that they -- once more -- navigated around a moment that could have stirred the muddy waters of their friendship and partnership and relationship and could have turned this into something else instead. Something scarily exciting and different. Except that maybe it wouldn't even feel all that different. Maybe. (And that's the scary part.)
But then the cabin starts to move, and that's when Ziva suddenly takes a deep breath and flips the emergency switch. And just like that, Tony's throat is tight, and panic washes over him.
She seems just as hesitant as he feels right now, and it takes her a few seconds until she's calm enough to turn and face him. He leans back against the cool metal wall and grabs the hand rail. His stance relaxes while she eyes him warily, until he's almost slouching against the wall. It's his version of a poker face. He can't trust his facial expressions right now, so he has to rely on body language for distraction.
Ziva's eyes are narrowed when she finally meets his gaze, and he knows the face she's giving him now. He's seen it before, each and every time she's had enough and decided to get to the bottom of things. Which is vaguely scary in their new context.
"Tony," she starts out, and she draws out his name as if that buys her some time. "You know I'm not a very... patient... person..."
Her voice trails off, and he watches her face. He's jumpy now because he's not sure where this is going. (Even though his gut is.) And he's torn, because his whole being screams at him to inform him just how much he doesn't want to have this conversation.
Except, maybe, he does want it. At least a little. Because the possible outcome doesn't look all bad.
Ziva takes another deep breath when he doesn't reply and just looks at her with his jaw locked tight and his brows drawn together. "Is..." She hesitates and makes a wavy gesture with her hand, back and forth between them while she does her best to encompass the whole cabin. As if merely indicating just him and her would make the Yard go up in flames.
Her frown deepens when he still doesn't say anything, and she tilts her head. "Is this... going somewhere?"
He blinks, and yeah, he knows what she's asking, but he can't acknowledge that. He just can't. Not yet. So he says, "I was thinking Fellini's." Her face clouds over, and he blabs on before she can voice her displeasure. "They have these great drinks, and happy hour is--"
"That's not what I meant."
He closes his mouth and meets her eyes, and he's not sure what to say to that. Again.
In the end, he settles for "Weren't you the one who said we need time?" Her face is very open and very vulnerable all of a sudden, and he's not sure what she's thinking right now. But he is sure he wants her to stop looking at him like he just kicked a puppy.
"I didn't mean you and me when I said that," she murmurs, and look at that, no boom, world's still on its axis. She doesn't tell him what she meant, though, and she's even further from letting slip what she wants from him now. She just looks at him and wills him to give her something, and he's not sure how to do that and still get it right.
"How are things with Ray?" he asks eventually, and now her face says he may have just as well kicked her.
"Still over," she says with her chin coming up. "And I intend to keep it that way."
"Does he know that?"
She deflates a little at that. But her chin stays up and she keeps holding his gaze. God, he loves her when she's like that. Stubborn. "I stopped writing him, didn't I?"
"Yeah," he says and purses his lips. "That did a whole lot of good last time."
Something flickers across her face, and he can't really tell if she's hurt or feels challenged now, but before he can make up his mind, she takes another deep breath. Then she turns, away from him, back to the elevator doors, and she's already reaching for the switch to bring the cabin and their lives back on track, back to what they usually do. Going down, not up.
He's moving before he knows it, and Ziva freezes when his hand covers hers. He can tell she feels him in her back, almost as if he were pressing right up and into her. Her breathing picks up a faster pace, too, just like that, and he's pretty sure that he'd feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest if he'd take that last tiny step and pull her against his body. But he can't really do that, yet. Even if he were just a little more brave, there's still so much they need to deal with before they can... what, really? Move on? Move up?
She's still standing stiffly. Her back is very straight while Tony keeps running his thumb along hers until, eventually, a soft shudder runs through her and she lowers her arm as if she no longer has any strength left. He still doesn't let go of her hand, though, because he's pretty sure if he does that, she'll be up and away and he will have blown this.
He knows he needs to say something, soon, or she'll leave him anyway. And yet, he can't seem to come up with a good way to tell her that, yeah, he'd like this to go... somewhere. That he'd like to keep touching her, and smelling her, and being close to her. Because it feels good, and because he feels good when he's allowed to do this.
But things are complicated, and things don't simply feel good forever, there's always something that intrudes and interrupts and kills the best intentions to just keep it flowing nicely. And if he really starts to think about it, he's scared to death to screw this one up. This, what they have, that's too important to get it wrong, and there won't be any bonus rounds or reboots like in one of McGee's games, just more pain and no more touching if he pushes the wrong button now. He opens his mouth to say something, but the crippling fear of choosing the wrong path clenches around his heart, and so he concentrates on just breathing while he leans into her, just a little. It's hard enough to do that.
Another shudder runs through her while Tony is still busy with all the thoughts whirling around in his head, busy with grasping just one of them out of the tumble of emotions, just so he can make sense out of his own wants and needs and what's good for them and what isn't. He's so wrapped up in trying to come to terms with all of this, all the possibilities, that it takes him a moment to notice how her fingers move against his. How her hand twists in his until she can return the gentle squeeze. And, oh, yeah: how she interlaces her fingers with his while she leans back, just enough so he can really feel her. Warmth radiates from her body, but the thing Tony suddenly concentrates on as hard as he can is the thrumming pulse in her fingers and the way he feels it against his own.
It's funny, really, but it almost feels as if she gets it before he does. And suddenly he knows that maybe he doesn't need to say anything after all.
Ziva breathes out in a sigh, and he turns his head, just enough so he can brush his lips across her cheek. It's the mere ghost of a touch, but it seems to be enough for now because something relaxes inside her. He can feel it. It's not something he can put his finger on, but it's a start. And it doesn't feel half bad.
*** *** ***
notes & warnings: We're picking up right where we left them. Then we move smoothly into the happenings of 9x04 "Enemy on the Hill", so yes, once more -- spoilers for that episode.
Fourth part in the "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder" series. Will not make sense if you haven't read the previous parts: one two three
We're still at a snail's pace, but it feels oddly right.
word count: 4,800
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Baby Steps
She's certainly relaxed enough that he catches her sliding down on her side of the couch not too long after, and so the evening ends before the movie does, with her feet in his lap and Ziva making happy little sleeping sounds.
There's about an hour left to the movie, and he leaves it running in the background, but for some reason Tony finds his attention drifting away from it in increasingly short intervals. Maybe it's simply because Ziva's face, all soft and mellow, makes for a more tempting visual than Robert DeNiro's.
*** *** ***
He sighs when the end credits roll. It means he finally has to get up and stop pretending he's in this for the man-made masterpiece and not the natural one. He's as careful as possible when he slides her legs off his lap and gets a blanket for her. If she wakes, she'll leave, and there's no reason for that, really. It's the weekend, and they're both wasted, and so he doesn't think it's a good idea to let her drive all tired and vaguely drunk. (At least that sounds good in his head.)
She curls tighter around the pillow for a second while he drapes the blanket over her, and Tony is pretty glad she's not looking at him right now. His face probably shows all too clearly how tempted he is to just lean down and kiss her forehead. Which they don't do, as a rule. No kissing, unless it's on an undercover job.
He's about to straighten up again when Ziva suddenly stirs and gasps. Her hand shoots out to grab his wrist as if she wants to stop him from coming any closer when, in fact, she keeps him from leaving. Yeah, sometimes she's jumpy like that.
"Just me," he murmurs softly and gives in to temptation after all: he reaches out with the hand she doesn't have a death grip on and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "Go back to sleep. I'll drive you home in the morning."
For a heartbeat he's sure she will object. That she'll get up now and compose herself and be all businesslike again. Then the tension flows out of her as suddenly as it came, and she closes her eyes again.
"Mm'kay," she mumbles, and her hand relaxes, too. Slides up his wrist and ends up in his palm, fingers mingling loosely with his.
Tony blinks. Stares down at her hand. His throat is weirdly tight -- not in the bad way, more like there's a need to say something now, he's just not sure what. Then he gives her fingers a gentle squeeze and whispers, "You're killing me here, Ziva..."
She makes a sound that's halfway to a contented purr, and while she lets go of his hand and turns her back to him, she slurs, "No' yet..."
And yeah, that kinda makes him smile. Go figure.
*** *** ***
She's still relaxed in the morning, and that's probably the best part about it. That and the fact that she's in no real rush to get home, so while she's in the shower, he puts out one of his shirts for her to borrow and then runs off to get fresh croissants and an extra-large coffee. (The spicy blend she likes so much.) He doesn't even think about it. It's just the natural thing to do.
It's probably just as well that he doesn't bother to stop and ponder his reasons for being nice. If he did, the result would most likely freak him out. Just a little.
*** *** ***
Her good mood sticks until Monday, and it amuses him to see her park her lovely rear end on Gibbs's desk the way she does, like it's her personal playground and she's allowed to do that. (Well, she probably is, since Gibbs doesn't object. Doesn't even bother to react, in fact.)
Tony's own mood, on the other hand, takes a slight dive when their fearless leader lets it slip that Ziva will be Brett's shadow because the Lieutenant Commander has a crush on their in-house assassin.
He knows the guy isn't Ziva's type. But it's still worth a pout.
*** *** ***
She's pretty mad when Tony takes her call, and he frowns when she asks him if he could pick her up. "Sure," he says, and she tells him where she is, then hangs up on him, just like Gibbs usually does.
It doesn't even occur to him to suggest calling a cab.
*** *** ***
He rounds the corner just as she kicks something into the darkness. He can't see what it is (probably not something fluffy, if her expression is anything to go by), but he can tell she probably kicked around a lot of things in the thirty minutes she's been waiting for him to show up.
"That bad?" he asks when she gets into the car and buckles up, still fuming.
"He ditched me," she replies. It's the only thing she says on the whole way back to the Yard, and Tony is glad he's not the one she wants to kick around.
*** *** ***
She tells McGee to track Brett's cell phone, but the guy's not stupid, he turned it off, of course. Which doesn't improve Ziva's mood.
She's just about to kick the stuffing out of the candy machine when Tony catches up with her in the break room. For a moment he watches her anger unfold because she's a tiny force of nature when she's like this. Then he asks, "Are you done?", and Ziva turns her head and looks at him and then kind of deflates before his eyes.
With a sigh she flops down on one of the chairs, and her lower lips does that pouty thing that always gets him so good. He can't fight the brief tingle it brings up in him. "He ditched me," she repeats as if that explains everything.
And in a weird way it does, so much that he mirrors her sigh without even noticing it.
"I get it," he says and drags a second chair over so it's a little easier to look into her eyes. He's, technically, a lot closer than he needs to be for that, with his knees bracketing hers and him leaning in until it seems a little too easy to touch her. She doesn't notice, though. She's still trapped in the angry monologue of beating herself up over being tricked.
"No, you don't," she shoots back heatedly. "Because I knew it, Tony. I sensed the whole day that he wanted to get rid of me, and I still let him trick me."
She makes a furious wavy gesture in front of his face, and Tony grabs her hand and tugs until it rests almost in his lap. He half-expects her to drag her fingers out of his grip with even more heat, and yeah, there's a slight ripple of tension rolling through her. But then she just lets him touch her. She's quiet for a moment, just stares at her own hand in his while his thumb suddenly develops a life of its own and strokes the mound of her hand soothingly.
"I get it, Ziva," he repeats, and she jerks slightly, her nostrils flaring. For a second the angry frown between her eyebrows deepens. Then she turns her head to the side, and a tiny flush creeps into her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I should not take my frustration out on you." She tries to pull her hand away and get up, but Tony doesn't let go. He leans a little more into her personal space instead, and that makes her glance back at him. This time she looks a little confused and distracted.
He knows this is the moment to say something nice and supportive and then let go of her hand because the gesture served its purpose, after all -- he got her to listen. But things are never as easy as they seem between them, and so he finds himself somewhat stuck in touch, finds his thumb stroking her skin gently until her body softens up and her attention shifts. And then she is the one who inches a little closer, and he suddenly knows it wouldn't take all that much to make her forget about her anger altogether.
"We all need that sometimes," he says before he can give in to that particular urge. He gives her his best puppy dog eyes until she sighs and slumps back in her chair.
"Since when are you so... understanding?" Her chin comes up, and she looks vaguely stubborn, as if she already feels her irritation slipping away, but tries to hold on to it for just a little longer.
And Tony can't help the laugh, even though he looks away this time so he doesn't have to meet her eyes. Feels safer. "Since I get to touch you?" he slips up anyway, and yeah, he cloaks it in a lighthearted joke, but there's still a sudden burst of nervousness that makes his skin itch.
Ziva doesn't reply right away, just lowers her head and stares at his wrist resting on her thigh. Which doesn't help.
Then her fingers curl around his experimentally, and he blinks at the unexpected feeling of intimacy washing over him.
"That is nice," she agrees, and he looks at her with his pulse doing strange things all of a sudden. Her mouth curves into a smile when she notices, and Tony blinks while her fingers return the careful caress he snuck in earlier.
Oh, this is bad, he thinks and stares at her. His eyes widen a little, and his pulse flip-flops. It's not bad-bad, really. It's more like a dangerous path, dark and unexplored and straight into the woods and all that. He's not quite sure he's brave enough to explore that road, so he desperately tries to come up with a smooth way to handle this and not screw things up completely in the process.
In the end he settles for grinning at her like he didn't mean half of what he said. It's a tried technique. He used it on her a lot of times. "Come on," he says, gets up and drags her along. "I feel like getting you drunk and then driving you home."
She stays in her chair at first, but he tugs at her arm, and so she gets up with a long-suffering sigh. He doesn't stop, though, he tugs again until she bumps into him with a soft oomph, and before he knows how it happened, his arm is kinda slung around her shoulders.
Later, he would never be entirely sure if he planned that or if he just went with the flow of the movement. But right now he doesn't care about that, because after a moment's hesitation Ziva puts her arm around his waist and leans into him a little more, and while he walks her out his lips somehow, sort of, end up brushing against her temple. Which doesn't feel half bad.
*** *** ***
He notices the looks McGee shoots his way while Tony is trying to loosen up Drew Turner. At first he thinks it's just normal Probie behavior. He's not prepared for the scalding wave of disapproval that hits him when they leave her office, though, and for a moment that throws him completely off track.
"Okay, what's with the face, McSourpuss?" he prods when McGee doesn't say a word and sticks to glaring.
There's clearly something chewing away at the Probie. Tony thinks at first he might have to dig deeper because McGee's face clams up even more at the question. But then Timmy turns his head and scowls at him and asks in return, "Why did you just do that?"
He blinks, confused. "Do what?"
"Hit on her like that."
Now that's a stupid question if he ever heard one. "You saw her, right, Probie? All hot and cute?" And looking a bit like someone he knows, especially in that picture of her in the camo pants?
But McGee's frown only deepens, and that's when Tony steps in his way to get to the bottom of this, even if he needs to use brute force. "Okay, what did I miss here? What's with the condescending looks?"
For a second it looks like McGee wants to ignore the question and step around him, but then he raises his chin and looks at Tony in a clear challenge. "I saw you," he says as if that explains it all. It doesn't, and so Tony blinks at him some more until McGee elaborates. "Last night. With Ziva."
He rolls that line around in his head a few times while he tries to remember if there was anything scandalous to be seen last night. He's leaning towards nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then he suddenly remembers the touching and the hands, and yeah, he feels flushed because now he gets it.
"I'm not cheating on Ziva," he says. The scowl keeps sticking to McGee's face, though, and so Tony looks at him straight on and says, "She was about ready to clam up on you and your stick-in-the-mud attitude. A little flirting kept her amiable, that's it."
It's only when McGee tilts his head and looks at him a certain way that he realizes he may have picked the wrong thing to protest about.
*** *** ***
He sees her slip out of the conference room with an expression that says she needs to blow off some steam badly or she'll hurt someone. So, naturally, he sneaks after her into the break room.
He rounds the corner while she's sipping her coffee of the new-machine-of-awesomeness variety, and he knows she noticed him because she pours him one, too. Her shoulders are drawn tight again, and by now it's almost a reflex to put his hands to her neck and try to loosen her up. Just a little, just to take her mind off the worst of the tension. It's still a vague surprise when she moves into the touch, and that's what makes him realize he isn't used to this yet, after all.
"Having trouble with the Lieutenant Commander?" he guesses and puts a bit more effort into kneading the tension out. The little groan she gives him in return is... rewarding. (There's probably a more appropriate word for this, but right now Tony can't come up with one.)
"You have no idea," she forces out. Her shoulders bunch up a little more, and he makes a mental note to better avoid that particular topic. "He drives me nuts."
He laughs and digs his thumbs in a little deeper, and that lets Ziva's attention slip abruptly. Her head sags forward and her eyes close, and then she moans and murmurs, "God, you are too good at this..."
"Mhmm," he hums appreciatively while he inches closer. He can't help it, really, and she doesn't shove her elbow into his ribs, so he assumes for now she's okay with it. "Tell me more."
She gives him a throaty laugh, and yeah, he knows she's just distracted and she doesn't mean it like it feels on his skin. He still can't help the urge to lean into her and breathe in the scent of her shampoo. "It's no wonder McGee thinks there's something going on with us," he chuckles.
Ziva doesn't tense up outright, but she loses a bit of her relaxed stance and turns her head so she can look at him over her shoulder. "He does?"
Tony blinks. Swallows hard and wonders if he just made a mistake in telling her. If she'll draw back now and not let him touch her anymore. "Yeaaah. He cornered me earlier. And he was kind of blunt about it."
She's quiet while she mulls that one over, and part of him thinks this would be a good moment to step back and get some distance between them, just for appearance's sake. And to make it very clear that McGee was very obviously mistaken here. He just happened to watch them at the wrong moment.
But Tony finds that he can't let go now just yet. Because if he tries a little honesty with himself for once, he can't deny the fact that he really likes being this close to Ziva. He likes touching her, always has. He just likes it a little more since she started reacting to it. And it's weird, but she still hasn't urged him to take his hands off her.
"What did you tell him?" she asks eventually. Her voice is all calm and composed, but her gaze flicks up to meet his for a second, and that's when his heart stumbles over itself because there's more to that question. He suddenly finds himself thinking just as hard as Ziva a mere minute ago. And just like her, it doesn't get him anywhere.
"The usual," he shrugs in the end. His thumbs still draw slow circles between her shoulder blades, but he's distracted now by juggling truth and status quo. "Neither confirmed nor denied it. Keeping the mystery alive, you know."
He's confused when a hint of frustration flickers across her face. A fresh wave of tension creeps into her shoulders, and he doesn't want that, he wants her back to being relaxed and leaning into him and being a little noisy about it. But this is the moment to break apart after all because he hears steps coming down the hall, and so he never gets the opportunity to tell her that his talk with McGee may have been a little closer on the traitorous side.
*** *** ***
He gets a kick out of her voice all low and husky on the phone, even though he's not quite sure what provoked that. But then she calls him 'sweetheart', and he kinda likes the sound of that. And yeah. He supposes he could get used to that.
*** *** ***
He can't help the grin when they lead Brett out and the Lieutenant Commander shoots a glance at Ziva. Tony knows she's well aware of the look, but she doesn't react at all, she just keeps typing her report with these neatly timed keystrokes and a smug little smile ghosting around the corners of her mouth. That's what you get for messing with the ninja.
He dots his Is and crosses his Ts and finally powers down his computer, but even though they have long reached the point where they should end the day and go home, he doesn't really feel like it. He rather feels like celebrating because this was a pretty cool case and they cracked it, nice and smooth. And yeah, maybe because they haven't done this in a while, too. Not for feeling good at least. Just once or twice for getting over the bad things more easily.
"Come on," he says and grabs his backpack before he saunters over to Ziva's desk. She doesn't react outright, just gives him a curious glance and a quick smile, and so he sits on the edge of her desk until she has no chance but to acknowledge him. "Drinks are on me."
She blinks, then tilts her head and looks at him curiously. "Are you mortally ill and want to make your peace with the world?"
He gives her a grin, and it comes out as one of the loud, intrusive ones. The kind of grin that splits his face and puts big, fat dimples into his cheeks and usually makes Ziva smile in return before she even notices it herself. Just like now, when he leans a little closer and says in his best sincere-and-honest voice, "No. I just want to get you drunk."
And just like that, she gives him exactly the kind of smile he's been going for. "Oh," she says and winks at him. "In that case..."
He's still grinning like an idiot when she grabs her stuff and joins him. It's probably a good thing McGee isn't here anymore to watch this.
*** *** ***
His hand ends up in the small of her back while they're waiting for the elevator, and he doesn't even notice it until she leans into him. Just a bit, just enough to make him feel it. He turns his head to look at her, and that's when Ziva realizes what she's doing, too. They break apart like they were just caught doing something they're not supposed to be doing, and for the few seconds it takes until the arriving elevator allows them to step out of their blunder, they radiate an almost mcgeeish awkwardness.
Tony breathes out carefully when he steps into the cabin. For a heartbeat an overwhelming sensation of relief washes over him. Relief that they -- once more -- navigated around a moment that could have stirred the muddy waters of their friendship and partnership and relationship and could have turned this into something else instead. Something scarily exciting and different. Except that maybe it wouldn't even feel all that different. Maybe. (And that's the scary part.)
But then the cabin starts to move, and that's when Ziva suddenly takes a deep breath and flips the emergency switch. And just like that, Tony's throat is tight, and panic washes over him.
She seems just as hesitant as he feels right now, and it takes her a few seconds until she's calm enough to turn and face him. He leans back against the cool metal wall and grabs the hand rail. His stance relaxes while she eyes him warily, until he's almost slouching against the wall. It's his version of a poker face. He can't trust his facial expressions right now, so he has to rely on body language for distraction.
Ziva's eyes are narrowed when she finally meets his gaze, and he knows the face she's giving him now. He's seen it before, each and every time she's had enough and decided to get to the bottom of things. Which is vaguely scary in their new context.
"Tony," she starts out, and she draws out his name as if that buys her some time. "You know I'm not a very... patient... person..."
Her voice trails off, and he watches her face. He's jumpy now because he's not sure where this is going. (Even though his gut is.) And he's torn, because his whole being screams at him to inform him just how much he doesn't want to have this conversation.
Except, maybe, he does want it. At least a little. Because the possible outcome doesn't look all bad.
Ziva takes another deep breath when he doesn't reply and just looks at her with his jaw locked tight and his brows drawn together. "Is..." She hesitates and makes a wavy gesture with her hand, back and forth between them while she does her best to encompass the whole cabin. As if merely indicating just him and her would make the Yard go up in flames.
Her frown deepens when he still doesn't say anything, and she tilts her head. "Is this... going somewhere?"
He blinks, and yeah, he knows what she's asking, but he can't acknowledge that. He just can't. Not yet. So he says, "I was thinking Fellini's." Her face clouds over, and he blabs on before she can voice her displeasure. "They have these great drinks, and happy hour is--"
"That's not what I meant."
He closes his mouth and meets her eyes, and he's not sure what to say to that. Again.
In the end, he settles for "Weren't you the one who said we need time?" Her face is very open and very vulnerable all of a sudden, and he's not sure what she's thinking right now. But he is sure he wants her to stop looking at him like he just kicked a puppy.
"I didn't mean you and me when I said that," she murmurs, and look at that, no boom, world's still on its axis. She doesn't tell him what she meant, though, and she's even further from letting slip what she wants from him now. She just looks at him and wills him to give her something, and he's not sure how to do that and still get it right.
"How are things with Ray?" he asks eventually, and now her face says he may have just as well kicked her.
"Still over," she says with her chin coming up. "And I intend to keep it that way."
"Does he know that?"
She deflates a little at that. But her chin stays up and she keeps holding his gaze. God, he loves her when she's like that. Stubborn. "I stopped writing him, didn't I?"
"Yeah," he says and purses his lips. "That did a whole lot of good last time."
Something flickers across her face, and he can't really tell if she's hurt or feels challenged now, but before he can make up his mind, she takes another deep breath. Then she turns, away from him, back to the elevator doors, and she's already reaching for the switch to bring the cabin and their lives back on track, back to what they usually do. Going down, not up.
He's moving before he knows it, and Ziva freezes when his hand covers hers. He can tell she feels him in her back, almost as if he were pressing right up and into her. Her breathing picks up a faster pace, too, just like that, and he's pretty sure that he'd feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest if he'd take that last tiny step and pull her against his body. But he can't really do that, yet. Even if he were just a little more brave, there's still so much they need to deal with before they can... what, really? Move on? Move up?
She's still standing stiffly. Her back is very straight while Tony keeps running his thumb along hers until, eventually, a soft shudder runs through her and she lowers her arm as if she no longer has any strength left. He still doesn't let go of her hand, though, because he's pretty sure if he does that, she'll be up and away and he will have blown this.
He knows he needs to say something, soon, or she'll leave him anyway. And yet, he can't seem to come up with a good way to tell her that, yeah, he'd like this to go... somewhere. That he'd like to keep touching her, and smelling her, and being close to her. Because it feels good, and because he feels good when he's allowed to do this.
But things are complicated, and things don't simply feel good forever, there's always something that intrudes and interrupts and kills the best intentions to just keep it flowing nicely. And if he really starts to think about it, he's scared to death to screw this one up. This, what they have, that's too important to get it wrong, and there won't be any bonus rounds or reboots like in one of McGee's games, just more pain and no more touching if he pushes the wrong button now. He opens his mouth to say something, but the crippling fear of choosing the wrong path clenches around his heart, and so he concentrates on just breathing while he leans into her, just a little. It's hard enough to do that.
Another shudder runs through her while Tony is still busy with all the thoughts whirling around in his head, busy with grasping just one of them out of the tumble of emotions, just so he can make sense out of his own wants and needs and what's good for them and what isn't. He's so wrapped up in trying to come to terms with all of this, all the possibilities, that it takes him a moment to notice how her fingers move against his. How her hand twists in his until she can return the gentle squeeze. And, oh, yeah: how she interlaces her fingers with his while she leans back, just enough so he can really feel her. Warmth radiates from her body, but the thing Tony suddenly concentrates on as hard as he can is the thrumming pulse in her fingers and the way he feels it against his own.
It's funny, really, but it almost feels as if she gets it before he does. And suddenly he knows that maybe he doesn't need to say anything after all.
Ziva breathes out in a sigh, and he turns his head, just enough so he can brush his lips across her cheek. It's the mere ghost of a touch, but it seems to be enough for now because something relaxes inside her. He can feel it. It's not something he can put his finger on, but it's a start. And it doesn't feel half bad.
*** *** ***