Just writing what comes to me.
jae
It seemed darker than usual when he arrives back to his apartment that night. For three months they'd been down an agent, and he had found himself working harder and longer hours than ever before, making it home in the evenings just in time before he collapsed for few, solid hours of unconscious sleep.
He doesn't dream anymore.
And though he's never felt more disconnected from everything around him, he's also relieved. Because as painful as it is to be in the very office they'd spent each day together, he's at least occupied.
The more free time he has at home, the more his mind wanders to where he swore he'd never go.
He fumbles tiredly with the deadbolt, and the key turns within it loosely, no tumble of a disengaged lock resonates. It doesn't register to him as he next works on the normal lock, and he pushes the door open once more to his dark apartment.
It takes him five steps into the unlit room before a presence that's not his own registers with him.
The shock washes over him as if he'd been submerged in icy water.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
A shadow emerges from the hall that leads to his bedroom, and he'd know the weight of those steps anywhere.
Shock is still registering for him as the moon's low glow outlines the lines of her face in sharp relief.
Even in the shadows, the sight of her is overwhelming.
Her voice is a punch to his gut.
"I am not here long."
He doesn't move to turn on a light, because he knows seeing her fully will only break the dam of everything they shut away on the tarmac three months ago.
Silence stretches for several moments, and they watch each other with guarded expressions.
"You left." His tone does not invite her closer, but she edges forward anyway, and if the intensity in her eyes is anywhere as close to what he feels burning in his, the break in her voice is understood.
"I needed to see you."
She's before him now, and the proximity has already begun to cloud his judgement.
He swallows loudly as her hand reaches out, tentatively tracing the length of his arm.
"Ziva," he starts, and he closes his eyes to fight for control. "We've already said goodbye."
His eyes are still shut when he feels her warm breath fan across his neck, and her hands wrap around him to stroke his back. Goosebumps follow the trail of her fingertips.
"I wanted to say hello." It's a fragile whisper that's breathed against his skin, and her lips proceed the admittance. His hand had somehow found it's way tangled in the cascade of curls he remembers reverently, pressing her closer as she trails opened mouth kisses along the stubble of his neck and jaw. He groans in frustration that quickly gives way to surrender as her hands travel under his shirt.
"What are you doing here, Ziva?" He pants as she works his jacket off his shoulders. It doesn't take her long, and it soon falls to the floor, forgotten. He raises her arms in the air, and takes his turn of working her shirt up and over her head.
Her arms are still raised as he runs his hands back down her body slowly, taking in all that had been bared to him what feels like a lifetime ago. Her hand curls around one of his own, and he presses his face into the curve of her neck, reeling in the memories that rush back to him from that night.
His lips aren't idle, and she releases a breathless moan before pushing him blindly down the hall toward his bedroom.
"I was afraid to forget." She whispers softly, and the hand that still grips her body tightens.
Yeah, she'll be bruised tomorrow.
Her admission makes him ache, because it's the very thing he's been trying to do each and every day since they'd parted.
Her knees meet the back of his bed, and he wastes no time crawling above her.
When her lips meet his once again, it's softer than all the previous kisses, and he savors one after the other, committing them to memory. He doesn't know when he'll touch her this way once more.
It's not that he wants to forget her;
He just can't bare to never see her return now that he finally had her.