Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just pretend that I live in a Tiva fairytale. Or something like that.
If love is blind, If love's a drug, It always is, It always was and Love was surely made for fools like me....
-"Fools Like Me", Lisa Loeb
Cold cases. Interrogations. Apprehend suspects. Type case reports. Track down cell numbers. Collect evidence for Abby. Get headslapped. Then the cycle repeats.
Normally, this is how it went for the four Special Agents. The Boss, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs; The cyberwhiz, Special Agent Timothy McGee; The Movie Buff, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and last but not the least, former Mossad liason officer, Crazy Ninja, Special Agent Ziva David.
But for the two people who were mentioned last, there is always a twist.
Cold cases. Interrogations. Apprehendsuspects. Type case reports. Track down cell numbers. Collect evidence for Abby. Annoy each other out of boredom. Quote movies. Threat with paper clips. Pull pranks at whoever is lucky. Gang up on McGee. Read each other like a book. Stare for endless minutes, like no one else is with them.
Read each other like a book.
Stare for endless minutes, like no one else is with them.
Flirt around.
Mask their emotions with the harmless, innocent innuendo.
But, something changed.
After people died, after her merciless father, after the ordeal in Somalia, after the psych evals, after the retelling of the Damocles Tale, after the Blue Teeth Pranks, after the Probie-hazing, and a million afters, something just changed.
Suddenly, somewhere in between those afters, words "I couldn't live without you" , "It is I who am sorry", "But I say it with love" made them to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, they've been fools for a very long time.
It made them realize with horror that this is really how they feel. It scares the shit out of them. But they ignore it, along with the repressed feelings that, without warning, bubble up the surface.
Which is now why he stands at her door, debating whether to knock or just leave.
He trusts his gut, so he knocks.
She is not surprised. She expected him to come anyway. It's Friday night. Movie Night. Like how it was.
But he had nothing. A box of pizza, yes. But movies and a six-pack, no. However, he had a heart beating rapidly in his chest, and a mouth which could doom his life a few minutes after this.
And when the door opens, she lets him in, takes the pizza box and places it on the kitchen counter.
They don't move for a moment. They just stare, into the depths of each other's eyes.
She looks at him expectantly. He gulps. Opens his mouth, then shuts it. She sighs and looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair, and finally utters out a pathetic "Maybe we could sit down?"
"Just say whatever you have to say, Tony."
"I know. I'm gathering my thoughts."
"I will wait." She knows what this conversation will be, and she feels a pang of hurt in her heart.
He takes a deep breath.
"You think of me as a brainless ass, right Ziva?"
She chuckles. "Yes." She jokes, and he lets out a shaky laugh.
"Chauvinistic much?"
"Yes."
"Happy-go-lucky? Too complacent?"
Now she's getting confused. "Why are you asking these?" She cuts him off. He moves to the kitchen and retrieves the pizza box.
"Not sure either." He says through a mouthful of cheese, pepperoni and sausage. "Do you think I really am a happy-go-lucky, too complacent, chauvinistic, brainless ass?" He adds.
"You could be sometimes," she says sincerely. "But I trust you. I always have and always will."
"Thanks for that." He hides his heartbreak behind his signature smile.
She senses something is wrong and doesn't miss a beat.
"I am sure you did not come here just to say that."
He knows he's caught. Face the music, DiNozzo.
"I just wanted to make sure that you knew I wasn't lying when I told you I couldn't live without you. And I hope that you don't really get offended when I call you probie. Well, it's different from how I call McGee, anyways. Uh. That's it. I guess I'll leave now. Uh, boss doesn't want me late tomorrow. I'll see you then."
"Goodnight, Tony."
If only he knew how much she wanted him to say those words that she couldn't say herself. She feels embarrassed. Maybe he just cared for me as a partner? Too much for my wishful thinking.
"Night, Sweetcheeks." I love you.
He shuts the on his way out.
She stands there for awhile, eyes glued on the spot he stood on. She shrugs. Too much for wishful thinking.
He plops down on the couch, flips on various channels and eats the remainder of the pizza. When she feels she's had enough, she heads for the trash bin and disposes the box.
She does a double take when she catches a glimpse of a note taped onto the inside of the lid.
She pulls it off.
Sweetcheeks,
Do you think that I'm foolish enough to fall in love again?
I don't expect you to answer, because I know you know what I mean.
Tony
A small smile creeps up her face. At least, somehow he has said it.