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It Happened One Night
She admires the dawning sun over the city of Paris. She listens as Tony snores rhythmically. She stares at the Parisian dawn. She admires the beauty of the entire picture. Her mind retraces over the past twelve hours.
They arrived in Paris exhausted only to discover they would have to share a room. They had both offer to sleep on the couch then agree that they are both adults. Despite their bodies being exhausted, their minds prevent them from sleeping. The lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. She has tries to read her American history book but cannot focus. Her hand moves. A single touch relights the spark of the sexual aspect of their relationship. The part they have so sorely missed. Her fingers trace his thigh underneath his boxers. He responds to her touch by using his fingers to trace her back. They stare at one another. Their lips move closer like magnets of opposite poles. They taste one another. His hands drift lower and lower. They reach her panties. His groin pressed against her. She tenses. He stops. She pushes him underneath her. He lets her take the lead as if he knows that she has been raped. They tangle. Soon he is screaming her name. She is silent at first. Then whispers his name. Before screaming it out. She falls beside him. His sweaty arm wraps around her sweaty body. Though neither of them speak the words. They both know this will never be repeated.
She remembers many years ago when they talked about inevitability. She watches as he wakes up his hair like a porcupine. She smiles at him.
She had not slept as well as she did that night. For the first time in the four months, since she returned she has had a nightmare less sleep without the aid of pills. She has not had consensual sex since the previous May. Though the other dancer in the horizontal tango took the lead. She had wanted to have sex for weeks now. She knew she was not ready for a relationship. She had trust issues. Tony and their shared evening had been the perfect solution. She trusts him. They both wanted it. They both needed it.
She admires the Paris skyline again. She has started to see the beauty in things again.
She smiles every time it snows. She can stand for hours at her window. Staring at the white flakes blanketing the world around her.
Tony groans as he contemplates waking up. She walks on tippy toes to the bed the top sheet from the bed wrapped around her. She sits on the bed. His hand touches hers.
"Are you ok?" Tony asks.
"I'm better than ok" Ziva replies.
Later that morning he announces he is going sightseeing. He offers her the option the join him. She declines. Briefly mentioning a café she visits every time she visits the city of love.
"We will always have Paris," he tells her quoting Casablanca a movie she recognizes. He leaves. He turns back for a moment he sees a large smile cover her face. He walks into the hall. An even bigger smile covering his face.
A/N: Another Jetlag tag. I know everyone is writing them. I hope you like mine.