A/N: Based off a set pic featuring Ziva in running gear, sometime after the two-parter.
Crisp December air fans across Ziva's face as her feet pound pavement, nothing if not consistent. She attempts to focus solely on the sound of her own breathing and wisps of fog escape her mouth as she does. She wills herself to concentrate on those too, to block out all impending thoughts and images and just run.
It's at that annoying time of the year when it's cold enough to snow but it hasn't, and instead DC is left with a depressingly heavy grey blanket across the sky and wind that lashes her cheeks like whips. Her face is caught somewhere between pallid white and rosy red, the colors mingling together on her skin like an exquisite painting. She assumes she must look like a porcelain doll right now with the icy pink blush stains on her cheekbones, but far from feeling pretty, she feels uncomfortable and stiff, pursing lips chapped like sandpaper. She adjusts her beanie, pulling it further down over her ears without changing her pace.
God, she knows what would make her lips feel better.
Do not go there, her internal warning sounds. Alarm bells go off at her thought trail and she speeds up, hoping the increase in her heart rate and blood pressure will distract her from whatever place she was about to travel to in her mind.
It's just as she's jogging over the bridge that spreads over a small, bubbling creek in the centre of the park when she feels him.
She's always been able to sense his presence, whether it be simply because they've been partners for so long, or for some other more profound reason she chooses to ignore. But right now she feels his eyes on her clear as day, feels that strange tingle that washes over her skin like the tides, and she hasn't even seen him yet. Her heart rate quickens and she knows it's nothing to do with her pace.
After she feels him, she hears him, heavy clumsy footsteps that struggle to keep up with her elegant strides. She can hear him panting and it makes her smile and almost consider speeding up again, just to be a tease. Instead she focuses on the fact that she knows for certain he's staring at her ass right now, clad in tight spandex leggings.
When he's finally jogging alongside her, she slows to a pace that better suits them and they don't talk for a while. It's reminiscent of the way they used to run together of a morning back when Gibbs was in Mexico. They had developed a routine back then; he'd arrive at her door with a six pack of beer, she'd cook, they'd eat and watch a movie and he'd fall asleep on her couch and complain about his back the next day. In the mornings she'd generally gone for a run before he'd woke, but one time he had, just as she was opening the front door. He'd wanted to join her and she'd hesitated, only surrendering once he gave her an expression akin to a lost puppy.
Sometimes she misses those days. Things were much more simple back then; there was no baggage, no emotional uncharted waters between them. Her mind wanders to the first time she'd fallen asleep on the couch with him, leaning gently on his shoulder, barely touching.
He'd seemed not to care so much about his back anymore after that.
For a long time their relationship after that had stayed purely platonic, although laced with unvoiced wants and desires. That had all changed a few nights ago.
"Penny for your thoughts," he speaks suddenly, and finally she looks at him. She immediately wishes she hadn't, because he looks so adorably flustered right now it's ridiculous. He's wearing a thin grey hoodie, covered with a dark vest and his hair is mussed by the wind. She almost snorts at the fact that he's wearing jeans though, because that would be extraordinarily uncomfortable.
"What else would I be thinking about, Tony?" she responds coolly. He's the last person she wants to see right now, and somehow the person she wants to be with the most.
He sighs as they continue running, passing a group of children playing with a wiggly Labrador pup in the grass.
"We have to talk about it, you know. We can't avoid it forever."
She comes to a sudden stop and he almost trips over at the abruptness.
"Why?" she questions in a hard tone as she faces him. "Why must we always talk about everything? Why can we not leave it alone?" She begins to walk away, determined to finish her run without interruption.
"You want to pretend it never happened?" she hears him softly behind her, and she stops in her tracks at the hurt in his voice. Her face contorts in guilt and sadness. She never wanted to hurt him. In fact that's part of the reason why she's behaving like this.
"Some things are better off forgotten," she says quietly. She hears his footsteps behind her before his hand softly touches her bicep and her eyes close as she tries to focus on the feel of his fingers brushing against her skin. When they gently press into her arm, she knows he wants her to turn around and she does, avoiding his eyes. This feeling is much too familiar, and all of a sudden she is pulled into an unwanted memory.
"This is the last one I have of her before she died," he breathes, holding the picture gingerly like it might shatter into a thousand pieces between his fingertips.
She smiles at the image of a young Tony. All messy brown hair and gap teeth and big mischievous eyes. He's standing with his mother in front of what appears to be a cinema. She's tall, Ziva notes, and elegant like a 1940's siren starlet. Pearls droop from a swanlike neck and her hair is perfectly coiffed and resting lightly on her shoulders. But beneath the blood red lips and sophisticated air, Ziva can see the same sparkle in her eyes, of mischief and excitement and mystery. The one she has grown to become affectionate towards over the years; the same one that lies in her son.
"She's beautiful," she remarks softly.
"Yeah. Believe it or not, dad did have good taste once," he grins fondly. "But sometimes I wonder how I would've turned out if I'd had mom the whole time growing up. How different I'd be." His thumb idly brushes over the image of his mother, perfect smile frozen on her features.
Without thinking, Ziva nudges her hand against his other, and it's only natural for him to turn it over so she can weave her fingers between his. She squeezes hard, and he squeezes back. When his eyes flick to hers, she's surprised to see them moist, but he doesn't try to blink it away.
"Maybe, you would be different," she says gently. "But I like who you are now." He smiles a little, a tear escaping and dropping onto his cheek. Before she knows it, she's reaching up to brush it away out of instinct. Her hand lingers, though, and she runs her thumb over each and every shape she can find; the soft, full skin of his face, the point of his cheekbone, the hard edge of his jaw. She explores him without boundaries, like she's trying to memorise every feature. He simply watches her with soft eyes.
She doesn't remember when they got this close, but they are, and she focuses on the feel of his warm breath fanning against her face, because this is the closest they have been in a long time and his proximity takes her breath away. Her hand still rests on his cheek but he doesn't dare move an inch, waiting for her to make the next move. The deep sadness in his eyes kills her. She wants more than anything to make it go away because it is achingly familiar; reminiscent of what she sees when she looks in the mirror every morning.
Then before she realises what she's done, her lips are on his.
He freezes up, his entire body rigid in shock. For a second, cold realization trickles into her brain and she stiffens as well, but just as she's about to pull away his lips move against hers, just a little bit. Urging her not to stop this, encouraging her.
She takes his bottom lip tentatively between hers and he fits right in with her, sucking lightly on her top lip. The feeling mixed with the overwhelming scent of his cologne makes her dizzy and before they know it they are actually kissing; slowly, unsurely, but definitely. Tony's hands come to rest lightly on her waist, fingers brushing over her sides in encouragement. Her other palm reaches up to press against his cheek so she's cupping his face in her hands and he pulls her slightly closer to him, so he can feel her body only just touching his.
The more comfortable they grow with each other, the more the kiss escalates, and soon his tongue is begging entrance of her mouth and she willingly yields, hot breath mingling with his as their tongues meet together in a passionate dance. One hand slides hard up her back to tangle into her hair, which she's left curly. She's been doing that a lot lately and god, he loves it. Her fingers have moved to the back of his neck and tug not-so-gently at the hairs at his nape.
Yet he can't get over the fact that he's kissing Ziva. Ziva. As in his partner.
Finally.
Tony gently leans her back on the couch so they're lying down and he hovers above her, supporting her weight with his arm. He does this without breaking from her lips because he needs this kiss, needs it for comfort, for warmth, and for the simple fact that he needs her. He doesn't ever want to stop kissing her, ever.
When he pulls from her lips to kiss softly along her jawline and suck at her neck, a small moan escapes her lips as her head tips back. Her shirt rides up and his fingers spread wide over the small of her back as she arches gently into him. He can't get over how soft her skin is, how warm and pliable and perfect she is underneath him.
Her mind however is blank as she attempts to focus solely on his entire being around her; his scent intoxicating her nostrils, his taste musky on her tongue, the sound of his breath at her neck, the feel of him warm and heavy above her.
But when he brings his lips to hers once again, realization of context crashes over her like a bucket of ice water.
What are they doing?
She can't do this. Not with Tony.
And suddenly she's clambering out from under him like she's been burnt with a hot poker and she's standing looking at him, eyes wide in shock and regret. He takes a few seconds to process what just happened and looks up at her in confusion. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out. She simply shakes her head once and then she's out the door before he can blink, tears stinging her deep brown eyes.
She still can't meet his gaze, so instead she chooses to focus on a rather uninteresting crack in the sidewalk. Of course he won't stand for that, why would he? His index finger taps under her chin and lightly pushes her head up so she has no other option than to look at him. She takes in a breath quietly, because the last time they were this close had been then.
And now she knows there's no avoiding any of this because Tony's shields are down and she can tell, because as far as she knows he only lets them down around her. His normally mischievous green eyes show honesty and vulnerability and his soft, warm lips are pulled into a hard line.
"You kissed me," he says simply, and she wants to head slap him for stating the obvious. It makes him sound like he's pinning all the blame on her, like he was a victim.
"You kissed me back," she retorts, folding her arms over her chest.
He seems to ignore her sharpness because his expression does not change.
"Well… yeah."
"Why?" she questions in a hard tone. His shoulders shrug and he sputters for a few seconds and she sighs. "You said you wanted to talk, Tony. So talk."
He blinks. "I guess because I wanted to? I happen to enjoy kissing you, Ziva. Is that such a bad thing?"
She can spot the tell-tale traces of a smirk forming on his face and suddenly she can't look at him anymore.
"No," she answers. "Yes. No. Yes, it is!" she cries in frustration. "You should not like kissing me. I should not like kissing you. We should not be kissing at all! The kissing thing should not be happening!" Her arms fly around her as she speaks and now he smiles because she's rambling, and he finds it ridiculously cute when she does that. Not that he'd ever tell her.
She's fuming, but not with him, with herself. Stupid, stupid, idiot Ziva. She can't believe she'd let herself do that… and now come the unavoidable 'feelings' talks she's been trying so desperately to avoid, ever since she knew there were feelings.
"So what do we do now?"
Tony looks up at her question and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, evidently deliberating something.
"I don't know," he answers truthfully. "But what I do know is that you were there for me that night, when I needed you. You always have been. And I've figured out that…" he pauses and almost doesn't continue until he meets her gaze and sees her just as vulnerable as he is. "I've figured out that I'm happiest… when I'm with you. And that's gotta mean something, right?"
He looks like a little boy now, ready to be told off and have his dreams crushed. The mixture of hope and fear in his expression pains her inside, and then she's reaching for his hand again, the same way she did that night. His fingers curl tightly around her smaller ones and it makes her smile, just a little bit.
"I am too," she admits. Her mouth opens because she wants to continue, wants to share with him the amount he did with her, but she can't seem to find the words. Luckily he does for her.
"I really want to give this a shot, Ziva," he swallows. "Us." His thumb brushes gently over her knuckles. "What about you?"
Now her heartbeat is so fast and loud in her chest that she feels it's a small miracle he can't hear it. At that moment a million reasons to say no flash through her mind faster than light. The team. Gibbs. Their friendship. Her father. Rule 12.
Say no.
Turn him down.
Just say it.
No.
No.
"Yes," she breathes, the word tumbling from her mouth before she can stop it. Screw all her stupid reasons, she wants this. She wants it more than anything.
It takes a second for her answer to sink in, but when it does, the biggest grin she's ever seen him wear spreads slow and wide over his face. His eyes sparkle with happiness and her heart swells at the fact that she's the one that made him feel like that. One of his arms snakes around her waist to pull her to him in an embrace and their linked hands somehow find their way to rest on his chest, just above his heart. She relaxes in his arms more than she has in years.
And when he kisses her, it's with so much joy and passion that her knees tremble and it's only him that keeps her from collapsing. Because there's nothing left to focus on but his heartbeat beneath her palm and the fact that it's finally him, it's finally Tony.
When he breaks from her mouth, it's to rest his forehead against hers with a grin.
"Hey, you like kissing me too, right?"
She chuckles.
"Oh yes," she murmurs before capturing his lips once more.
A/N: I worked really hard on this one! :D Review?