a/n: Just a LONG one shot that wouldn't leave me alone! :D Time line is a little messed up, but it starts in season three and goes through season seven and goes past the begining of eight (you'll be able to tell where it veers off!) and then two years after, making it season 10 when this takes place. So eight years or staring from season 3 and going through, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. (of which the last two obviously haven't been done yet and we're starting eight in september)
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It all started eight years ago. Going under cover as married assassins had changed everything between them. It was the begining of something that neither wanted to address or talk about.
So they didn't. They just let it happen.
Everything started off simple enough. Though Gibbs never knew or suspected it was more than just acting, Tony and Ziva had let themselves go, deciding that whatever happened, happened while on the mission. None of it was to be questioned and once the mission was over, everything would be forgotten, go back to normal.
At least at the time, that was what they thought.
They were wrong.
After the first time in the sheets together, they had said nothing, knowing the room was bugged and that everyone could hear them. IT happened twice more during the mission, though again, everyone thought it was just really good acting. Somehow the thought that others could hear them and catch them in the act heightened the expeirence for them. And when the operation was over, no one was none the wiser except for him and Ziva.
The second time it happened, she came to him in the parking garage. Gibbs was in the hospital, they were looking for a slick terrorist. He'd known she felt it was all her fault, and in a way at the time, he'd blamed her too. But when he was finding his own release after bringing emotional comfort and pleasure to Ziva, he found he didn't. It was stupid and knew that he should have told her that at the time. But they didnt say anything. She'd kissed him, gave him a soft smile and left the back seat of his car.
Again, no one but them knew it had happened.
The summer Gibbs left for Mexico, it happened over and over, different days, different times. It was a habbit. As if the other was a drug addiction that couldn't be shaken off or stopped. But neither of them wanted to stop either.
When Gibb's came back to NCIS full time, he'd been a jerk. His pride had been hurt. It was also the first time he'd sought her out intentionally looking for sex after a long case and work week. He'd admitted that her calling him a bitch had been dead on and left it at that. He'd taken her against the wall in her apartment and then again on the sofa a few hours later.
When they'd gone on the mission to "save" the Aries unit and while McGee and Ducky were setting up the fake persona Ducky was to take on, he and Ziva had slipped away. It had become an unspoken agreement that when one normally left, the other would follow. He'd taken her in the conferance room before hand and then after they'd gotten back, but in the back of her car that time.
He remembered seeking her out when the sperm bank called. He'd also gone to her after finding Jeanne had some crazy former boyfriend stalking her. They never questioned the other or the reasons behind their clandestine sexual encounters. They never spoke about it. It seemed that the agreement to just let it happen had stayed in place through the years.
The morning his car had blown up and he'd walked into NCIS, the relief on her face hadn't slipped his notice. They had managed a quick meeting in the men's bathroom and then later, at his apartment when he'd found the note that Jeanne had left and he'd told her exactly what happened.
They never talked. One always left after it was over. After all, it was just sex. They both knew that.
Until Ziva had almost been killed by her crazy "boyfriend". She had been battered and helpless looking. Tony had gone to her apartment to comfort her. For the first time, they, more so he, hadn't rushed, hadn't been rough. It was sweet, gentle caresses and it was no longer sex. Not to him. It was making love. After two years, it had become making love for him. He'd realized that he'd almost lost her that day though he wasn't sure what to make of the feelings inside of him at the thought of losing her. So he teased and flirted with her like they normally did.
That moment changed things between them again. They still didn't talk, but neither of them left right away afterwards. It still wasn't every night. But, when it happened, they would stay the night at one of their places unless the coupling between them occured at work.
When Jenny died and they'd found the body, neither of them had needed to say anything. They both sought comfort from each other in Tony's hotel room that night. Once the funeral had been over and they'd been seperated, Ziva came to him, his apartment that night. She'd taken one look at the half packed bags on the floor and attacked his lips with her was the last time they'd seen each other for four months.
When she came to the boat with Gibbs, they'd managed to sneak off while Gibbs was napping. Tony kissed her and then made love to her once more against the shower walls on the boat. They repeated it again on the flight home, and once more that night before she suddenly became distant. She was keeping things from him, he could tell.
Tony noticed that he'd go to her at certian times. Like when a guy gave her a look or she flirted with someone that wasn't him or she intentionally kept secrets from him. He'd slam his body against hers repeatedly, more than once in the same night, demanding answers, and yet never getting anything but sweet pleasure for both himself and her.
She never said anything, and neither did he. After four years, they still didn't talk about what was going on between them, what was happening, where they were going.. And neither wanted to.
When he'd killed her Isreali boyfriend, she was upset, angry, hateful..but she still came to him the night before her father requested to see him. It had been angry, rough, comforting and hateful each time they'd come together that night and Tony didn't blame her one bit. But even in the aftermath of their activities, she didn't accuse him of anything, blame him...nothing. They lay in silence until both of them had fallen asleep.
Her decision to stay in Isreal cut him deep, but he didn't let it show until he was back home. He had no one to turn to for comfort but McGee and while McGee made a great friend, he wasn't someone Tony would want to have comfort sex with- or even think about it. The news of her supposed death gave him the same feelings as her decision to stay in her homeland had. McGee was there as nothing more than a great friend, but he was left in a daze. He couldn't believe it, wouldn't, until her body was in Ducky's morgue. Then it would be real. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try and find her, who had supposedly killed her...
And the relife when she'd been placed in front of him alive was so great he was sure the people in Japan had heard the huge but silent sigh of tension leave his body. Her captors had done a number on her, of that he could tell. Not only by her words, but her injuries and wounds as well.
Once she'd been rescued, he'd gone to her the night before they left Africa. He made tender caring love to her, whispered everything about how he felt to her, exept those three little words that would make it all permanet. She'd silently cried and held him tight as he brought them both to the edge and over three times that night. The welcoming reception at NCIS had also done a number on her emotions and she'd found him in the men's bathroom a bit later, almost knocking him to the floor as she threw herself at him for comfort.
He still teased her about hunreds of things. She still taunted him. They still sought each other out. The only time they'd stayed away from each other was when his father had been in town.
She'd come to him when Abby had been kidnapped and held hostage in L.A., he'd gone to her after the team out there had found Abby safe and sound.
But Paris...Paris both he and Ziva had taken a little time to enjoy the sights, the food and each other so many times in such a short time that it seemed almost impossible to want the other anymore. The plane home had been so eventful that neither had thought of anything other than their unofficial-turned-official case. But when both had been allowed to go home for the evening, Ziva had met Tony at his door. They wanted the thrill and privacy of Paris to last. And it did for a while.
He would go to her place to help her study for her citizenship test, she would come to his place with books. He'd quiz her. For every correct answer he'd remove an item of clothing. For every wrong, Ziva had to remove hers. It was effective, that was for sure. Then they would join together in only the way the two of them could.
And when everything about Gibbs and Abby's Mexico case came to light and neither was sure what to think, they sought each other again. Ziva reminded him about her ceromony that night. He'd said he'd be there.
But Vance had other plans for him. Plans that ruined him going to her "crowning". When he'd come home from Mexico and not only informed them that Mike Franks was alive and well, but some of the intel he'd gathered, she hadn't looked at him. He'd gone to her place that night seeking forgivness, begging for it. And she'd made him earn it, be her slave for not only the evening, but that entire week. Though to say he didn't enjoy it would have been a lie.
And so for five years, they had this agreement, this unspoken relationship. There was never any discussion on what they were as a pair, what was happening. Never. Not even when two years later, she had a semi-serious boyfriend. Even then, she still came to him, and he to her.
Those three little words still remained unspoken on his part. And while he was sure of her feelings towards him, he did not want to ruin anything between them. Or so he thought.
But finally, eight years after the first time they'd been together, finding comfort in each other, anger, hate, trust, forgiveness and everything in between, Ziva came to him for something other than just making love.
"Tony, we cannot do this anymore," Ziva said gesturing around at his apartment-turned-house. Eight years had brought out changes in both of them, personal and not so personal
"Do what, Zi?" he asked confused sitting up from the floor in front of the fireplace, the blanket falling to his waist.
"This...us, what we just did." she explained, as she continued to search for her clothes and put them on.
"Why? We've been doing "this" for eight years. Why stop now?" He watched her replace the clothing he'd taken off her body.
"I...don't want to," she said pulling her shirt over her head before grabbing her shoes.
"You don't want to?" He was still in a daze, wondering what the hell she was thinking, going through. When he finally realized she was leaving, he stood and grabbed her arm. "Like hell you don't want to. We both want this, Ziva. Don't lie."
For the second time in eight years (the only other time being when she'd been rescued from Africa), he saw her cry. She tried to pull out of his grip but he wouldn't let her.
"Why?" he asked staring at her and only semi-aware of the fact that she was fully clothed and he was naked.
"Because it is us, Tony. The never grow up, settle down guy and the hard ass former assassin who never want anything serious."
"That isn't true and you know it."
She was stuck. He knew it, she knew it. She knew that he knew she knew it. With nothing else to loose but her, Tony wrapped her in his arms.
"Don't do this to us. We're good together-great. Fantastic. Have been for years."
"That is just it! We've done nothing but have great sex for years!"
Tony smiled- he couldn't help it. He wasn't letting her leave, but she didn't know that yet. "You think it has been just sex? All this time, after everything we've been through? Just sex, huh?"
Ziva said nothing, knowing he had more to say.
"It's only sex when I don't know your favorite color. It's just sex when I don't understand your needs and wants. It's just sex though I long ago figured out what your favorite food 's always just sex, although I know where every hair on your head rests and every mole or birthmark on your body. It's just sex when I know how you got every scar marring your skin. It's just sex between us even though I know you are always terrified of something more. It's just sex because I let it be that way," Tony paused, watching her before going on.
"It may have all started as just sex, but it sure as hell isn't just sex anymore, Ziva. I know that. You know that. It's more than sex. We're making love. We've been making love with and to each other for a few years now, whether you wanted it to happen or not. Fact is, we fell in love with each other and now you're running because you're terrified. Even after becomming a citizen and working soley for NCIS, you are still afraid your old habits and enemies will come into play somewhere down the line."
Ziva had nothing to say, he said it all. It was all truth, all things she didn't want to say or hear and yet, he was telling her everything she knew, didn't want to know.
"Don't run because you're scared," Tony paused. "Wait. Run if you want. But run into my arms, not away from them."
Ziva smiled slightly and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm safe in your arms then?"
"Always."