Inspired by this picture : hopeless-hoping[dot]tumblr[dot]com/post/22261264418
I don't even know why I wrote this.
As usual, I don't own anything neither NCIS or the picture. And it pains me so to have to say it everytime. Like that would change and you wouldn't know...
Saying that Ziva's decision to move in his apartment had had the effect of an earthquake on his life would be an understatement. Apart from the obvious emotional shake up it had triggered, his apartment also had to undergo major changes. Because Ziva had a lot of things. He had never thought there were so many things one person could own in such a tiny apartment as the one she used to live in until then.
Pictures, books, a few knick-knacks, souvenirs from places she had been to, some DVDs ( including the ones he had lent her forever ago and that she had never returned) and above all, an impressive collection of clothes.
After seeing the heaps of dressing items (bags, shoes and accessories included) as she was putting them out of her closet and on the bed to be packed, Tony realized that there was no way they would all fit in his closet, already overflowing with his own pieces of clothing and various boxes of things he had never found the time to get rid of.
Now standing in front of the said closet, Tony couldn't help but sigh tiredly and passed a hand on his face thinking of the task at hand.
"Ok", he whispered to himself encouragingly, "you don't need all of these, you always wear the same things anyway… You can do this. I can do this."
He exhaled and started to go through his numerous suits, shirts, sweaters and jog pants, trying to decide which ones he would have to sacrifice at the altar of Ziva. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Ziva entering the room and slowly making her way to stand behind him. Seeing his intense concentration, she put her arms around his torso and raised herself to stand on her toes and rested her chin on his shoulder. She let out a soft giggle as she felt his surprise at the sudden contact.
"Need an arm?" she asked in his neck.
"A hand, Ziva. Not an arm, a hand." he answered still looking at the open closet in front of him, his voice bordering on frustrated annoyance. Geez… I don't even know where to start… When did I started having so many clothes? That's insane!" he was speaking with his hands and his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Ziva muffled a laugh as she let go of him and went to stand beside him.
"Why don't you start with these boxes?", she suggested pointing at two huge cardboard boxed in a corner. "Obviously these are things you do not wear very often."
"Was that sarcasm I just heard in your voice Miss David? Because if that's so, it's not really nice since you are the reason I am in that situation…" he squinted his eyes at her as she took a step closer and bit her lower lip not to laugh.
"I know, I'm sorry", she said inches away from his lips putting her hands on his chest and patting him gently. "Let's see what is in these boxes, okay?"
"Yeah, right." Tony rolled his eyes and detached himself from Ziva to go get the first box and put it on the wooden floor by the bed.
As Ziva kneeled in front of the box and started opening it, Tony started to panic.
"Wait." he snapped a hand on top of the box to close it back and met Ziva's inquiring eyes. "Maybe I should look inside."
"Are you afraid that some dark secret from your college days is going to pop out from this box, Tony?" Ziva couldn't help teasing him, she could feel his growing panic and she had to say it amused her to no end.
"Errr…. " He hesitated a moment too long and she had her hand in the box already fumbling through its contents with the sheer excitement of a child on a Christmas morning.
Tony kneeled down next to her, rolled his eyes again and started to pray that he had not kept anything too embarrassing in those.
An hour and a half later, the two boxes sat empty in the middle of the room and Tony let out a breath of relief when Ziva declared that there was nothing left to see.
The truth is that there had not been anything too compromising, save for a couple of old Playboy magazines and a few pictures of a drunk-to-his-ass younger version of himself surrounded by dozens of different girls he didn't remember having ever met.
As soon as the first pictures had started to appear he had called for a "no comment" policy knowing that Ziva would be unable to resist the temptation of mocking him. But there was nothing he could do to stop her from shooting him her infamous "seriously?" looks everytime she found another evidence of his debauchery days.
As they sat there, surrounded by memories made of papers, pictures, old records, notebooks, empty bottles and even a few used books he admitted having actually read and liked back in the days, Ziva suddenly got up and walked to the closet where she had spotted another, smaller box.
"What is in there, Tony?"
Tony tiredly looked over his shoulder to see what she had found and made a gesture of dismissal with one hand.
"Nothing, just old clothes. I think we can get rid of that too. There's no need to look inside, really."
But Ziva had other plans. She dragged the box until it was in front of them and opened it, pulling out pieces of clothing after pieces of clothing. There was an old hoodie, a couple of worn out pair of trainers, a few flashy T-shirts that reminded Tony that he had indeed been alive in the 80's and a flowery shirt that earned him the most incredulous look from his partner.
"And I thought you had taste…." she shook her head and let out a soft laugh.
"Hey, no comment, remember? Besides, it was the 80's. And it was the perfect replica the shirt Magnum wore in the first episode and I love Magnum, you know that, so drop it." He took the shirt from her hands and put it back in the box, a childish pout on his lips.
"What is your excuse for this?" she asked faking a disgusted tone as she pulled out an old, faded and stretched out light blue sweater with whitish snowflake features on it and held it in front of them.
"Hey! I loved that sweater!" he grabbed the precious item from her hands and started to examine it with great care. "Ah… All the college ski trips we took together….. If that sweater could talk, Zee-vah, it would tell you stories…." he sighed and looked at Ziva who was clearly trying hard to keep a straight face.
"Do you two need a moment?" she couldn't help to ask in mock seriousness.
Tony's only response was to throw the sweater in her face before he got up and streched. Ziva was now laughing freely, probably catching up on a whole afternoon of restraining herself.
"Come on, get up, we have to put all of this mess back in the boxes so we can start putting your mess in there." he accompanied his words with pointed gestures to both said messes littering the floor of his bedroom.
Later that evening, after another 2 hours of organizing what was now their closet, Tony finally put the last of the boxes out to be picked up with the trash. Looking at those boxes filled with things from his past, he found himself smiling, feeling lighter and maybe even relieved, as if some weight had just been taken off his back. He turned back without a second look, closed the front door and started walking back up to his apartement.
He turned the lights of the main room off and lazily made his way to his bedroom where Ziva had disappeared moments before to take a shower in the communicating bathroom. When he found her, she was sitting with her legs crossed on the bed, her hair lose and curly, still a little wet at the ends from the shower she'd just had and wearing the damn sweater. Only the damn sweater.
The seductive grin on her face as she laid back a little and supported her weight on her extended arms behind her told him she knew she had achieved her goal.
He raised an eyebrow at her and slowly made his way to the bed. He climbed on it and put his arms on either side of her, invading her space, forcing her to lay back completely on the mastress.
"I guess we can keep this one then."
Her laughter was cut short by his kiss as he closed the small space between them and let himself fall on top of her, crushing his lips to hers.