"Ruffled" - as always, Tony/Ziva :)
disclaimer: So not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed.
notes & warnings: Happening during the episode 9x07 "Devil's Triangle", so yes, spoilers for that episode. Just a short, fluffy and vaguely steamy interlude this time because everything else really didn't want to work with the mood of this whole episode. We'll leave the big emotional guns for the next two episode tags, yes?
Seventh part in the "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder" series. Will make much more sense if you read the previous parts: one two three four five six
word count: around 2,100
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Ruffled
Realization is often an uncomfortable process. Sometimes it even borders on painful, especially when men are concerned. And if the men in question carry the name DiNozzo... well.
Anthony DiNozzo junior has a lot of experience in cleverly avoiding some truths, even the ones he had to admit to himself under the influence of drugs that had been specifically designed to loosen his grip on his own, home-made reality. And yet, sometimes he turns around and runs face-first into a wall of realization that drags the rug out from under his feet and leaves him all confused and looking like a lost little boy for a minute, until he either gets a grip or gets mercifully distracted... or both.
Usually, these obstacles to his reality evasion have something to do with his partner. (The pretty one. The one that looks at him now as if she wants to ask him things he hasn't planned on doing today, but wouldn't mind considering.) Or their situation. Or emotions that may or may not exist.
There's a reason for that, of course. But he won't go there. No, sir. Because that would defeat the whole purpose of trying to pretend that reason doesn't exist in the first place.
It still hits him, quite unexpectedly, when Ziva tilts her head and turns her back to Gibbs, just so the boss man won't notice how she stares at her partner's mouth longingly: he suddenly realizes that, for the first time in his life, it's not the 'getting there' part he is worried about with Ziva. It's everything that comes with 'staying there' which totally, completely and utterly freaks him out.
Because it's a bit like raising kids: you can't screw it up because it's too important for trial and error. And if you would screw up, you'd leave behind broken hearts and shattered trust. You'd leave behind the useless pieces of something that was pretty damn good in the first place, and no matter how easy it seems to dive in head first and figure out the details later, it isn't. Not really. Not when you have to get it right and make it work and not ruin a good thing.
It's double scary for him because these days it feels way too easy to fall into this without thinking twice about it. He knows now what Ziva feels like, after all. Knows how she will kiss him once they start doing this on a more regular basis. He's felt her skin against his palm. He's felt her chest rise against his with her breath. And he has slept with her, and woken up with her.
Touching her is too easy after this. Too tempting. Getting close to each other is suddenly the natural thing and what their bodies do on their own when their brains aren't watching. It's a pull that gets harder and harder to resist, and on some days he's not really sure why he still does. Then he remembers that he can't screw this one up, and that's when he always panics, each and every time. Because he has no idea yet what to do beyond the point of 'getting there'. He never really had to think about that before, in his entire life. Even with Jeanne, because on some level he'd always known back then that he had no chance to do anything but screw it up.
So maybe it's just that look Ziva gives him at that moment when Gibbs isn't watching them for a change. Or maybe it's because he catches himself just in time before he leans into her and kisses the smug smile from her face. Whatever the reason, he suddenly finds himself stuck with questions that no longer center around how to 'get' Ziva, but rather what it will take to keep her.
He's not entirely sure if that's why he suddenly starts to lose more hair or if it's the hair loss that makes him freak out even more. Hens and eggs and all that jazz.
*** *** ***
"Your hair obsession is getting out of hand," she tells him later, when she catches him in the break room while he's sneaking a glance at his mirror image in the front door of the candy machine.
Caught and guilty he lowers his fussing hands and tries to pretend he wasn't looking for thin spots. Of course his deflection fails spectacularly, and Ziva sighs and rolls her eyes at him. "Sit down," she commands, "and let me take a look."
A muscle in his cheek starts to twitch nervously. He wants to take a step back and tell her no way, but that's the moment when she narrows her eyes and gives him the glare. The one she picked up from Gibbs. The one that says he's not allowed to refuse. And since Anthony DiNozzo knows what's good for him after all these years with her, he follows her order warily and walks to the chair she points at.
He's nervous about turning his back to her, he really is. (He'd be a fool not to. Especially when she's halfway on her way to getting annoyed with him.) And yet, he sits down and pretends to ignore the smug little smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth.
Ziva watches him calmly while he obeys her. She waits until he's seated, then puts her coffee down and moves behind the chair. His nervous twitch jumps from his cheek to the corner of his eye until it's unnerving and stings. He's almost ready to jump up again and tell her to just forget about it. Being a wimp almost seems like the better option now. Better than her having a closer look and deciding she doesn't do bald after all.
He flinches when she rests her hands on his shoulders, and that makes her chuckle. "Relax," she purrs, and the word run down his back like a liquid caress. For a moment he finds himself torn between the urge to flee and the one to lean back into her and wait for her to wrap her arms around him. Then he remembers she's looking at the top of his head right now, and he's suddenly wondering if he did it the right way today. Like, stylish, but not too over the top. (Even though he sometimes suspects she likes his hair when it's out of order and doing its own thing. Maybe because it gives her a better excuse to touch him and mess with him and his hair a little.) He also wonders if he has arranged it in a way that covers the worst of the damage so she won't be turned off by what she sees.
He still refuses to think about her and being turned on in the same sentence. It's for his own safety and peace of mind. Most of the time that kind of self-censoring actually works, but sometimes... sometimes Ziva throws a wrench into his control, just for the sheer fun of it. Just because she can. And it seems like she's in that kind of mood today.
His skin tightens when she runs her fingertips up his neck suddenly. She moves them slowly, dragging her nails a little, and Tony swallows and takes a slow breath.
This really isn't what he expected. Not this careful, deliberate touch, slowly moving from his neck to the back of his head. It's the kind of touch that says it's not casual by a long shot. The kind of touch that speaks rather loudly of a certain level of intimacy involved.
"Uhm," he forces out, but Ziva ignores the confused sound and runs her nails through the short hairs at the base of his head. "That..."
"Shut up, Tony."
He does what she tells him to, of course: he closes his eyes and presses his lips together tightly while her fingers start exploring the longer strands of hair on the top of his head.
She's meticulous. The tips of her fingers map his scalp, and his breath soon comes a little faster because it's not a purely scientific view she bestows on his hair. She really enjoys touching him, he can feel that. And she gives him the kind of touching that's almost like a massage -- the kind you get at a really good hairdresser's. It's almost as entrancing. No, more, actually. Because it's her touching him like that.
Her fingers move slowly, relishing the experience. They dig into his skin a little with each stroke, until he's ready to moan and possibly embarrass himself. She runs her whole hands through his hair now, and he can feel her grabbing a little, like she's testing the strands. Then she leans a notch closer, and the warmth from her body seeps into his back, and he thinks that, God, yes, she is definitely enjoying this as much as he does. He can feel it, in the way she leans into him a little more than necessary and in the way she lets his hair slide through her fingers. As if it's a sensual experience.
Her motions slow and the gentle pressure of her fingertips increases until a hot shudder runs down his back and he has to clench his hands in his lap because he really wants to reach for her now. Wants to drag her around that damn chair between them and into his lap and do things to her that are in no way appropriate for the workplace.
Oh, he is so screwed.
"Tony," she murmurs. He can almost feel her voice against his skin. It's as rich as her touch, and it makes him just as crazy.
"Yeah?"
He has to clear his throat so he can get the word out, and she chuckles softly and runs her nails all over his scalp for good measure. And then, just when he thinks she'll let go now and step back and he can take a breath and stop feeling these insane urges, that's when Ziva leans into him once more and presses her lips to the top of his head.
"Your hair is fine, Tony. It's not even thinning yet."
She murmurs the words against his skin while he blinks and tries to separate what she says from the way her mouth feels. It's hard work, and his thoughts blur and blend with how close Ziva is. How her fingers caress him just that little bit longer, until she finally steps back and lets go of him.
"Thank you." He blinks some more and looks at her while she takes her mug of coffee back and sits down in the chair next to him. If he didn't know better he'd say she looks a little flushed. "You're not just saying that so I'll shut up about it?"
The question makes her laugh, and that, in turn, distracts Tony. He likes her laugh. Especially when it's like this -- bubbly. And a little like she's still whispering against his skin.
"I'll be the one who has to look at it, so I checked in my own best interest."
He stares at her mouth and tries to make sense of her words. Fails, as he usually does, so he frowns at her and asks, "I'm taller than you. When do you think you'll get to see my not-thinning-after-all spot?"
Her smile turns into something incredibly smug, and he realizes he walked right into that one, with his brain blissfully distracted by a head massage from his favorite ex-Probie. And yeah, she's flushed now, all right; her cheeks color even more when she leans towards him and lowers her voice to something that rubs against his skin in the most delicious way.
"When you'll put that overactive mouth of yours to good use, of course." She gives him another low laugh when his eyes widen and he stares at her like a deer in the headlights. Then she winks and is on her feet and halfway back to her desk before he can even begin to think about reacting to that bold statement.
Not that he'd have a good answer, anyway. He's left with his pulse suddenly pounding hard and his imagination going a mile a minute because yeah, fuck. Now that put some interesting pictures into his head.
She looks back at him over her shoulder once more before she slips out of the break room, and that's when he realizes this will actually happen at one point. That she'll be in his bed (or he in hers) and that she won't tease him then, she'll urge him on.
He breathes out and realizes that maybe, just maybe, he should waste a few thoughts on 'getting there', after all.
*** *** ***
notes & warnings: Happening during the episode 9x07 "Devil's Triangle", so yes, spoilers for that episode. Just a short, fluffy and vaguely steamy interlude this time because everything else really didn't want to work with the mood of this whole episode. We'll leave the big emotional guns for the next two episode tags, yes?
Seventh part in the "Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder" series. Will make much more sense if you read the previous parts: one two three four five six
word count: around 2,100
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Ruffled
Realization is often an uncomfortable process. Sometimes it even borders on painful, especially when men are concerned. And if the men in question carry the name DiNozzo... well.
Anthony DiNozzo junior has a lot of experience in cleverly avoiding some truths, even the ones he had to admit to himself under the influence of drugs that had been specifically designed to loosen his grip on his own, home-made reality. And yet, sometimes he turns around and runs face-first into a wall of realization that drags the rug out from under his feet and leaves him all confused and looking like a lost little boy for a minute, until he either gets a grip or gets mercifully distracted... or both.
Usually, these obstacles to his reality evasion have something to do with his partner. (The pretty one. The one that looks at him now as if she wants to ask him things he hasn't planned on doing today, but wouldn't mind considering.) Or their situation. Or emotions that may or may not exist.
There's a reason for that, of course. But he won't go there. No, sir. Because that would defeat the whole purpose of trying to pretend that reason doesn't exist in the first place.
It still hits him, quite unexpectedly, when Ziva tilts her head and turns her back to Gibbs, just so the boss man won't notice how she stares at her partner's mouth longingly: he suddenly realizes that, for the first time in his life, it's not the 'getting there' part he is worried about with Ziva. It's everything that comes with 'staying there' which totally, completely and utterly freaks him out.
Because it's a bit like raising kids: you can't screw it up because it's too important for trial and error. And if you would screw up, you'd leave behind broken hearts and shattered trust. You'd leave behind the useless pieces of something that was pretty damn good in the first place, and no matter how easy it seems to dive in head first and figure out the details later, it isn't. Not really. Not when you have to get it right and make it work and not ruin a good thing.
It's double scary for him because these days it feels way too easy to fall into this without thinking twice about it. He knows now what Ziva feels like, after all. Knows how she will kiss him once they start doing this on a more regular basis. He's felt her skin against his palm. He's felt her chest rise against his with her breath. And he has slept with her, and woken up with her.
Touching her is too easy after this. Too tempting. Getting close to each other is suddenly the natural thing and what their bodies do on their own when their brains aren't watching. It's a pull that gets harder and harder to resist, and on some days he's not really sure why he still does. Then he remembers that he can't screw this one up, and that's when he always panics, each and every time. Because he has no idea yet what to do beyond the point of 'getting there'. He never really had to think about that before, in his entire life. Even with Jeanne, because on some level he'd always known back then that he had no chance to do anything but screw it up.
So maybe it's just that look Ziva gives him at that moment when Gibbs isn't watching them for a change. Or maybe it's because he catches himself just in time before he leans into her and kisses the smug smile from her face. Whatever the reason, he suddenly finds himself stuck with questions that no longer center around how to 'get' Ziva, but rather what it will take to keep her.
He's not entirely sure if that's why he suddenly starts to lose more hair or if it's the hair loss that makes him freak out even more. Hens and eggs and all that jazz.
*** *** ***
"Your hair obsession is getting out of hand," she tells him later, when she catches him in the break room while he's sneaking a glance at his mirror image in the front door of the candy machine.
Caught and guilty he lowers his fussing hands and tries to pretend he wasn't looking for thin spots. Of course his deflection fails spectacularly, and Ziva sighs and rolls her eyes at him. "Sit down," she commands, "and let me take a look."
A muscle in his cheek starts to twitch nervously. He wants to take a step back and tell her no way, but that's the moment when she narrows her eyes and gives him the glare. The one she picked up from Gibbs. The one that says he's not allowed to refuse. And since Anthony DiNozzo knows what's good for him after all these years with her, he follows her order warily and walks to the chair she points at.
He's nervous about turning his back to her, he really is. (He'd be a fool not to. Especially when she's halfway on her way to getting annoyed with him.) And yet, he sits down and pretends to ignore the smug little smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth.
Ziva watches him calmly while he obeys her. She waits until he's seated, then puts her coffee down and moves behind the chair. His nervous twitch jumps from his cheek to the corner of his eye until it's unnerving and stings. He's almost ready to jump up again and tell her to just forget about it. Being a wimp almost seems like the better option now. Better than her having a closer look and deciding she doesn't do bald after all.
He flinches when she rests her hands on his shoulders, and that makes her chuckle. "Relax," she purrs, and the word run down his back like a liquid caress. For a moment he finds himself torn between the urge to flee and the one to lean back into her and wait for her to wrap her arms around him. Then he remembers she's looking at the top of his head right now, and he's suddenly wondering if he did it the right way today. Like, stylish, but not too over the top. (Even though he sometimes suspects she likes his hair when it's out of order and doing its own thing. Maybe because it gives her a better excuse to touch him and mess with him and his hair a little.) He also wonders if he has arranged it in a way that covers the worst of the damage so she won't be turned off by what she sees.
He still refuses to think about her and being turned on in the same sentence. It's for his own safety and peace of mind. Most of the time that kind of self-censoring actually works, but sometimes... sometimes Ziva throws a wrench into his control, just for the sheer fun of it. Just because she can. And it seems like she's in that kind of mood today.
His skin tightens when she runs her fingertips up his neck suddenly. She moves them slowly, dragging her nails a little, and Tony swallows and takes a slow breath.
This really isn't what he expected. Not this careful, deliberate touch, slowly moving from his neck to the back of his head. It's the kind of touch that says it's not casual by a long shot. The kind of touch that speaks rather loudly of a certain level of intimacy involved.
"Uhm," he forces out, but Ziva ignores the confused sound and runs her nails through the short hairs at the base of his head. "That..."
"Shut up, Tony."
He does what she tells him to, of course: he closes his eyes and presses his lips together tightly while her fingers start exploring the longer strands of hair on the top of his head.
She's meticulous. The tips of her fingers map his scalp, and his breath soon comes a little faster because it's not a purely scientific view she bestows on his hair. She really enjoys touching him, he can feel that. And she gives him the kind of touching that's almost like a massage -- the kind you get at a really good hairdresser's. It's almost as entrancing. No, more, actually. Because it's her touching him like that.
Her fingers move slowly, relishing the experience. They dig into his skin a little with each stroke, until he's ready to moan and possibly embarrass himself. She runs her whole hands through his hair now, and he can feel her grabbing a little, like she's testing the strands. Then she leans a notch closer, and the warmth from her body seeps into his back, and he thinks that, God, yes, she is definitely enjoying this as much as he does. He can feel it, in the way she leans into him a little more than necessary and in the way she lets his hair slide through her fingers. As if it's a sensual experience.
Her motions slow and the gentle pressure of her fingertips increases until a hot shudder runs down his back and he has to clench his hands in his lap because he really wants to reach for her now. Wants to drag her around that damn chair between them and into his lap and do things to her that are in no way appropriate for the workplace.
Oh, he is so screwed.
"Tony," she murmurs. He can almost feel her voice against his skin. It's as rich as her touch, and it makes him just as crazy.
"Yeah?"
He has to clear his throat so he can get the word out, and she chuckles softly and runs her nails all over his scalp for good measure. And then, just when he thinks she'll let go now and step back and he can take a breath and stop feeling these insane urges, that's when Ziva leans into him once more and presses her lips to the top of his head.
"Your hair is fine, Tony. It's not even thinning yet."
She murmurs the words against his skin while he blinks and tries to separate what she says from the way her mouth feels. It's hard work, and his thoughts blur and blend with how close Ziva is. How her fingers caress him just that little bit longer, until she finally steps back and lets go of him.
"Thank you." He blinks some more and looks at her while she takes her mug of coffee back and sits down in the chair next to him. If he didn't know better he'd say she looks a little flushed. "You're not just saying that so I'll shut up about it?"
The question makes her laugh, and that, in turn, distracts Tony. He likes her laugh. Especially when it's like this -- bubbly. And a little like she's still whispering against his skin.
"I'll be the one who has to look at it, so I checked in my own best interest."
He stares at her mouth and tries to make sense of her words. Fails, as he usually does, so he frowns at her and asks, "I'm taller than you. When do you think you'll get to see my not-thinning-after-all spot?"
Her smile turns into something incredibly smug, and he realizes he walked right into that one, with his brain blissfully distracted by a head massage from his favorite ex-Probie. And yeah, she's flushed now, all right; her cheeks color even more when she leans towards him and lowers her voice to something that rubs against his skin in the most delicious way.
"When you'll put that overactive mouth of yours to good use, of course." She gives him another low laugh when his eyes widen and he stares at her like a deer in the headlights. Then she winks and is on her feet and halfway back to her desk before he can even begin to think about reacting to that bold statement.
Not that he'd have a good answer, anyway. He's left with his pulse suddenly pounding hard and his imagination going a mile a minute because yeah, fuck. Now that put some interesting pictures into his head.
She looks back at him over her shoulder once more before she slips out of the break room, and that's when he realizes this will actually happen at one point. That she'll be in his bed (or he in hers) and that she won't tease him then, she'll urge him on.
He breathes out and realizes that maybe, just maybe, he should waste a few thoughts on 'getting there', after all.
*** *** ***