Tony pulled their blue Dodge sedan out of Vance's driveway, relieved that he'd survived their babysitting gig. It had actually gone much better than he anticipated, and Tony decided that maybe his fear of children should be isolated to much smaller kids.
"See? It wasn't really even babysitting. It was just hanging out and being silly with some kids," Ziva said from the passenger seat, eyeing Tony.
"What are you, a ninja mind reader?" Tony asked, then conceded. "You're right. That wasn't too bad. They weren't messy or whiney or smelly, and they'd seen Jaws, so all in all, could've gone worse."
Ziva smiled as streetlight shadows flickered across her face, glad to gain another moment's distraction from the other inevitable topics generated by the evening.
Most of the drive back to NCIS passed in silence. Tony hated to lose the opportunity for private conversation, but he wanted to breach the topic carefully. For her part, Ziva was struggling to figure out how she could even begin to thank Tony for his support and solidarity as she grieved and healed from the loss of her father.
"You and Vance got a lot into a short conversation," Tony offered, leaving Ziva room to explain or keep it short.
"Yes. The Director has come a long way in the past two months. It was not easy to apologize, but had I known that he's doing better, I wouldn't have been so worried," Ziva mused. "He obviously expected me to say something, because he was very quick to forgive. I know my father would never have come to dinner if he thought there was that much danger, but I should've known something wasn't right, I should –"
"Stop, Ziva. You couldn't have known. There was too much going on, too many lies and too much manipulation. Nobody can see clearly when there's that much deception, especially when it's your dad," Tony said, taking her fidgeting fingers and stilling them in a firm, gentle grip.
After a moment, she relaxed her tense fingers and turned to Tony.
"But your father –"
"Senior might have messed with me and led me on for years, but he doesn't operate on the same level, either of emotion or complexity, as your father. It was easier for me to keep him at arm's length because he's always been so obvious," Tony said, hoping that in this moment, the truth would soothe rather than incite her temper.
Ziva considered this in silence, and Tony gently rubbed her smooth, warm fingers with his thumb.
"I guess that's true," she said as Tony steered into the navy yard.
After he'd parked the car and turned off the engine, Tony turned to Ziva in the dim light and gently placed his hand on the lovely curve of her cheek. The warmth of his touch sank deeper than her skin, and she leaned toward him a tiny bit. Ziva's breath hitched, and Tony's pulse quickened.
"Ziva, don't blame yourself anymore. Please," Tony said softly.
Ziva closed her eyes and nodded, afraid if she continued eye contact, she would kiss Tony instead of answering him. A few seconds was enough for her to regain her composure and willpower – although she could still sense that the time was coming when she wouldn't be able to or want to resist
"After talking with Director Vance, I think I can do that," Ziva answered, looking back up at him.
Tony's gaze was mixed of concern and growing desire, but he sensed that this wasn't the time or place to cross that line. Not quite yet. He well knew that once they did, there would be no going back.
"Good," he said quietly, then reluctantly dropped his hand from her cheek.
They vacated the government car and entered the building through the garage entrance, waiting silently for the elevator.
Ziva felt relieved and tired, but she knew there was one more conversation to be had following the events of two months ago.
They stepped onto the elevator, and as the doors closed, Ziva suddenly decided she didn't want to draw it out any more. She slammed the stop switch on the elevator - it jerked and stilled, the lights switched to bathe them in a silver glow, and Tony looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Thank you, Tony," Ziva said quietly, looking him in the eye and taking a small step closer to him.
Tony smiled but didn't answer.
"You have supported me without question, you have stood by me more than a partnership requires, and you have been the voice of reason when I was blinded by denial and anger and grief. I am very grateful that you called Schmiel, after my father was killed. I know that letting us into your home, your safe place, was not easy," Ziva said, placing a hand on Tony's arm.
His smile warmed and softened, and to Ziva's surprise, Tony pulled her into his arms, her head at his shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist. Tony sighed and realized the warm amber scent of her hair would soon become intoxicating.
"Anything for you, Ziva. Actually, at the time, I was just worried about you and didn't want you to be alone. Made it an easy decision," Tony said softly.
He felt her smile against his shoulder, then she pulled back to look him in the eye.
"I can never repay you for what you have done for me," she said seriously.
"You don't have to. That's how this works. The new us, remember?" Tony said, instantly flashing back to their fateful day in this very elevator. Or, at least, this elevator's predecessor.
Content in a moment of memory and the weight of Ziva's warmth in his arms, Tony was caught off-guard by the lingering kiss she planted on his cheek.
If Tony's instincts were right, this was no thank-you kiss between friends.
This was a game-changer.
They shared a gaze that grew laden with intimacy and desire. Ziva was sure Tony would be able to feel her heart racing, and she knew his was doing the same.
"We've been dancing around this for a long time," Ziva said, her voice low and soft.
"A very long time," Tony agreed.
"What about Gibbs' rules?" Ziva asked.
"Not worried," Tony said, inhaling deeply, senses beginning to swim with disbelief and desire. "I'll talk to Gibbs."
Tony planted a feather-light kiss on Ziva's temple.
"Later," he added, kissing her cheek.
Ziva nodded, mesmerized by his closeness and the feel of finally being in his arms.
Tony moved his hand to the back of her hair, lacing his fingers through the base of her loose ponytail. The gaze they shared was unfaltering and held none of the rivalry or challenge that had spiked the air so many years ago during their undercover mission. Ziva's lips parted slightly in anticipation, and Tony was done waiting.
Their mouths met, soft and warm, truly tasting each other for the first time. In an instant, it was intoxicating and addictive, and Ziva thought she could never kiss him enough. Tony brought her as close as he could, her lithe body melting into his, and it felt better than he ever could've dreamed.
After a few moments of a gentle, loving kiss, they reluctantly parted.
It was only a brief pause, though, and then the years' worth of sexual tension exploded in the small elevator.
Their mouths met forcefully, drawing their bodies together like magnets, and Tony felt Ziva's moan against his mouth. He guided her a few steps back, until her shoulders met the cool wall of the elevator, and Tony leaned into her. Ziva arced toward him, hands flitting between his shoulders and short, spiky hair. They were both losing track of their surroundings, and it took all of Tony's restraint not to grind against her. Ziva could sense his restraint and felt a mixture of relief and frustration.
Kissing Tony was unlike anything Ziva had experienced before, and she couldn't help but show it. She was driving Tony crazy, but somewhere in the back of his kiss-addled brain, logic and reason still existed. At the moment, they were begging Tony to stop while he still could.
With all the effort he could muster, they broke apart, panting, and still holding Ziva close, Tony rested his forehead on the cold metal of the elevator wall. Ziva pushed away from the wall, into his embrace, and they could feel each other trying to control their breathing. After a few content moments, Tony finally broke the silence.
"Let's check in with Gibbs, then get out of here," Tony said softly into her hair.
Ziva agreed, but neither moved. It was as if they were seeing each other through new eyes, and Tony decided that flushed and up-close, Ziva truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Knowing what her shapely mouth tasted like and could do only increased her beauty. Ziva felt Tony had never been so handsome or confident, and she hoped that perception was accurate.
Tired of waiting for Tony and Ziva to return from Vance's special assignment, Gibbs was trying to head home, but the elevator seemed to be against that decision. After a couple minutes, he realized that somebody was probably using it as an office, as he did, but at the moment, it only irritated him. He was about to decide that the stairs would be worth the irritation to his recently injured knee when the doors parted and Tony and Ziva stepped toward him.
They stopped in their tracks when they saw him, and he stood in the way, moving neither forward nor back.
"Hey boss," Tony said, words hanging in the air as Gibbs sized them up.
Gibbs could see a distinct flush near DiNozzo's collar, recognized the slightly tousled state of Ziva's hair, and could see their pulses pounding away. If the size of Ziva's pupils and pace of her breathing weren't telling enough, the look on Tony's face was obvious.
"We're done for the night. Go home," Gibbs said evenly, stepping past Tony into the elevator. "And behave yourselves."
Tony and Ziva stood, speechless and as expressionless as possible, until the elevator doors closed, then turned to each other in alarm.
"I'll go talk to him tonight," Tony said as they collected their belongings from their desks.
"And after that?" Ziva asked, half shy and half teasing.
Tony sat against the edge of his desk, watching as she gathered her last few things into her bag.
"What would you like?" he asked, his voice low and quiet.
Ziva sensed that his question was genuine, giving her the opportunity for space if she wanted it, and not being suggestive or making assumptions. She came around her desk and stood closer to him than she normally would at work.
"I would very much like to see you," Ziva said plainly.
Tony nodded and smiled.
"Me, too."
As they waited for the elevator, Tony realized he would never, ever be able to get into that elevator without memories of their heated kiss.
Gibbs was in his basement, focused on chiseling scroll-work for a bed for his god-daughter Amira, three fingers of bourbon sitting barely touched in an admittedly dusty Ball jar. He was still debating what he would do about Tony and Ziva kissing in the elevator. He'd known for a long time – around Tony's conception of the plan to rescue Ziva from Somalia – that this moment was coming. It was never a matter of if, but when. Rule 12 was one that Gibbs was most reluctant to sanction them to break. Part of him suspected that they, of all people, could make it work very successfully, but he chuckled as he thought they'd probably need a week off at the beginning to get the peak of almost ten years of tension out of their systems.
As his mirth subsided, he heard his front door open and close, then footsteps that stopped on the landing of the basement stairs.
Impressive. Never thought he'd come tonight, Gibbs thought, smirk still tugging at his mouth.
"We need to talk, Gibbs," Tony said calmly.
Gibbs set down his mallet and chisel, and met Tony's earnest gaze. He then turned, dusted off another jar, and poured Tony a measure of bourbon. Tony took the offered glass and boosted himself up to sit on the workbench.
"Ziva?" Gibbs asked from the table where he'd been working.
"Yeah," Tony said.
Gibbs nodded.
Tony realized he had no idea what he wanted to say, so they sat a few more moments in silence. Finally, Gibbs decided to take the direct approach.
"You sleep with her yet?" Gibbs asked, even though he was confident he already knew the answer.
"No," Tony said, wincing internally as it came out of his mouth.
"Really?" Gibbs said, catching Tony's tell.
"Really," Tony said.
"What about Paris?" Gibbs asked.
Tony's eyes widened – how could Gibbs possibly know about Paris?
"Don't look so surprised, DiNozzo. I know you love the city, and I know what it can do to you when you're there with a beautiful woman," Gibbs said, vivid flashbacks of Jenny coming unbidden.
Gibbs drank a mouthful of bourbon, as did Tony, then continued.
"That's why there's a Rule 12. But what happens in Paris stays in Paris. Especially when there's only one bed in the hotel room you're sharing," Gibbs said.
He measured Tony's reaction and had to give him credit. A younger Tony would've sputtered bourbon everywhere and made adamant denials. Tony set his cup down, eyes focused on a table leg, as he obviously fought flashbacks of his own.
"Evidently it only stays in Paris for so long," Tony mused.
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, agreeing with Tony's point. Gibbs mused in silence for a few minutes, and Tony tried to decide what to say next.
"Why are you here, Tony?" Gibbs finally asked, giving Tony a window of opportunity.
"Because I love Ziva," Tony said plainly.
Gibbs nodded.
"I know it's not that simple, though. If it were anybody else, the work and partners issue wouldn't be, well, an issue," Tony said, realizing as he spoke what had brought him to the familiar den of Gibbs' workshop. "But it is now. Or, it might be. And as much – damn, Gibbs – as long as I've loved Ziva, I've worked with you longer, and, well, you know."
When Tony didn't pick up where he left off, Gibbs prompted him.
"Know what?"
Tony took an easy sip of his drink, trying to sort through the aspects of his dilemma wherein a real life outside of work was inextricable from work.
"Tony," Gibbs said, trying to ground him.
"Rule 12 is 'Don't screw over your partner,' right?" Tony asked, studying his shoeprint in the sawdust on the floor.
"Right," Gibbs said, beginning to be intrigued by Tony's line of reasoning.
"You and I might not be partners, but I think the overall implication is not to screw over or lie to your boss or your team, not just your partner," Tony said, setting down his glass on the workbench and making eye contact with Gibbs for the first time. "I know what I would do if this was anybody other than Ziva, but with her… this is new territory. It's not about sex, it's not an undercover mission, it's not meaningless. There's more at stake because of our history, and because of the team."
After a prolonged pause, Gibbs finally spoke.
"You're right. You've done a little bit of it all on the job. I don't expect you to separate things anymore."
Tony looked up at Gibbs, surprised at his admission.
"Not all of the rules are there because I broke them," Gibbs said pointedly. "Some of them are there because somebody else did it to me, and I decided I wasn't going to go through it again. You've been on both sides, Tony. You know where you stand, and you know the mistakes that you're not going to repeat."
Tony gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"What's that?" Gibbs asked, wanting definite confirmation.
"You're right. I've screwed people, and I've been screwed," Tony said, and in an instant he decided to get another point off his mind. "Jenny was powerful, as a boss and a woman, and she played that to her advantage. That whole undercover op with Jeanne, when Jenny was after La Grenouille, had issues coming from all sides. I would've given my life for Jenny, but I won't get caught in that situation again. I want full disclosure."
"About Jenny?" Gibbs asked, taken off guard.
"No, about your stance. On…" Tony took a deep breath, then finally put words to what he'd been avoiding so far. "I want to know your stance on Ziva and I pursuing a relationship that's decidedly not professional."
Gibbs was silent in thought, and Tony almost held his breath.
"You know what happens if you mess this up," he said.
Tony nodded.
"Keep it away from work, keep it out of our cases, and keep being good to her," Gibbs said gravely, looking Tony in the eye.
"I will, Jethro," Tony said, relief sneaking into his tone. "Thank you."
Tony finished his drink and started up the stairs, eager to get back to Ziva.
At Tony's quick pace up the stairs, the smirk tugged a smile onto Gibbs' face again.
"Tony," Gibbs said, and the younger man stopped to look at him. "Once we wrap this one up, I'll see if we can get a break for a couple days, have another team on call. Give you and Ziver time to sort out a few things."
"Thanks, boss. I think we'll be okay if it doesn't happen, though," Tony said, a little confused at Gibbs' uncharacteristic offer.
Gibbs flashed a grin at Tony, polished off his bourbon, and picked up his tools, focusing again on his woodwork.
Tony took it as his cue to leave, and did so quietly.
On the drive to Ziva's apartment, Tony realized something about their encounter in the elevator was bothering him. Not the very hot and long-in-coming kiss, but the conversation beforehand. He hadn't paid it much attention at the time, but he worried about the implications of her comment of not being able to repay him coming right before she let him kiss her. As much as he wanted Ziva, as long as he'd wanted her, he didn't want this to be her form of repayment. He knew neither of them could stand the guilt that would introduce. Tony had no idea what state Ziva would be in when he got to her place, but he knew he had to clarify that before he kissed her again. Even after just a taste of their chemistry earlier, Tony knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that kissing her again but having to stop indefinitely would be the most painful experience of his life.
Ziva had her misgivings, too, but they were about how to progress rather than previous events. Fortunately, before her mind could run away with her, she heard Tony's distinctive knock on her door.
She let him in and almost immediately asked, "Gibbs?"
"Gave his blessing, although not in so many words. He says to keep it away from work, and then, well, then it got weird," Tony said, frowning as he remembered Gibbs' parting offer.
"What do you mean, weird?" Ziva asked, sitting on the end of the couch while Tony draped his jacket across the back of a chair.
"Well, he said something about trying to get a different team to be on call after this case, so you and I can have a couple days to sort things out," Tony recalled. "But he had this smirk on his face, that one he gets when he, you know, knows."
"So he thinks there is something else going on?" Ziva asked.
"No, he knows what has and hasn't gone on. It's like he's omniscient," Tony said, coming to sit in the chair facing her. He didn't trust himself to sit next to her at the moment – she was soft and inviting in jeans and light sweater, and he could almost smell her even at this distance, making it hard to focus.
"He knew about Paris, Ziva," Tony said, trying to focus.
Ziva gaped at him, finally asking, "How?"
"I don't know," Tony said.
"And what did he say about it?" Ziva asked, a measure of horror creeping into her voice even as she flushed at the memories of their one idyllic night.
"Actually, he said what happens in Paris stays in Paris," Tony said, realizing he was still surprised by their whole conversation.
"Isn't that Vegas?" Ziva asked.
"Yeah, actually, but in some ways Paris is more appropriate, even if it isn't staying there," Tony said, smiling at her.
"True," Ziva said. "Do you want a drink or anything?"
"No, not now, but –" Tony paused, realizing he should ask her his question sooner rather than later, and certainly while fully sober.
"Everything okay?" Ziva asked.
Tony took a deep breath and started.
"Ziva, did we, or, did, ah, did what happened in the elevator happen because of what you said about not being able to pay me back?" he stuttered. "Because if it is, I want to know now. Not that I don't want you, not that it wasn't hotter and better than I ever imagined, but, Ziva, I don't want to be doing this for the wrong reasons. It feels more right than anything to be with you, to kiss you and hold you, but I don't want it to be tainted by any guilt or sense of duty or – "
Ziva firmly, briefly kissed him, effectively shutting him up.
She sat on the arm of the chair he was in and felt his questioning gaze.
"Tony, it is like you said. This has been very long in coming. I did not kiss you in payment, and I am not here with you now out of any sense of obligation. I genuinely just wanted to say thank you, and then I noticed what it was like to be close to you," Ziva paused, then continued. "It seemed like the last piece of the puzzle, the last thing I needed to say to leave my father's death behind. I have gotten so tired, Tony, of denying things, of holding each other at arm's length and dancing this dance."
"Me too," Tony said, taking her hand in his.
Both warmed at the touch, and Tony fought the sense of urgency that started to return to him from the elevator. Ziva must've had the same sense, because she started toward the kitchen.
"Drink?" she said again.
Tony followed her, slipped his arms around her thin waist from behind.
"No," he whispered, breathing deeply of her scent, her hair. "No, I want to be in full possession of all my senses right now."
Ziva turned to look at him, thinking how unlike him this was.
"Ziva, I have been waiting for this, for you, for way too long to let anything interfere," Tony said, stroking her neck from ear to shoulder with the backs of his fingers.
She shuddered under his touch, eyes closed, glad to be near him again, glad to have all her faculties as well. Tony was delighted to feel how he affected her, and when she gazed up at him under heavy lids, he couldn't resist.
Tony kissed his way from her ear to her collar bone, grazed his lips over the contours of her cheeks, kissed her nose, her eyelids, grazed her forehead, all while Ziva trembled slightly, leaning into each touch of his talented mouth. His touch was tantalizing, her skin was intoxicating, and after years of subtle foreplay, heat and desire mounted quickly.
Finally, finally, their mouths met, kissing with all the passion and desire teeming in each of them.
They progressed slowly through the small apartment, full kisses and urgent, loving touches moving them fluidly to the bedroom, clothes shed gradually in a trail behind them.
By the time Tony and Ziva lay across the top of the cool bed sheets, both clad in underwear and little else, they were entirely absorbed, and nothing existed outside the bed and each other's body, taste, touch.
Tony did everything he could to worship her gorgeous body, and Ziva poured her admiration back into him. Tenderness, passion, urgency, and whispered adoration ebbed and flowed through their lovemaking. They brought each other to the height of pleasure, faded to sleep with limbs entangled, only to wake still connected and aroused, continuing their coupling in a haze of desire into the wee hours of the morning, when they slipped into a deep, sated sleep, still intertwined under the sheets.
Ziva woke gradually with the sunlight filtering through the curtains, reveling in the warmth of Tony's body against hers. She was relieved he had stayed through the night, and even as he stirred against her, she knew that before last night, nobody had ever truly made love to her. Tony roused as she lavished kisses on his face and chest, and soon they were joined again in bed, then in the shower, then frantically in the kitchen.
Despite Tony's conversation for Gibbs, they opted for subtlety and drove their own cars. Ziva picked up coffee, Tony stopped to grab breakfast for the team, but their timing still brought them to the elevator at the same time.
When they stepped into the elevator, they were suddenly awkward and silent for the first time.
"Ziva?" Tony said, avoiding eye contact with her.
"Yes?" Ziva answered, staring at the ceiling.
"I think I might have to start taking the stairs," Tony said, garnering a playful punch on the arm from Ziva.
He snatched one more hard, quick kiss from her, but couldn't quite manage to wipe the smirk from his face by the time the elevator doors opened.
The instant he saw Tony and Ziva step off the elevator, Gibbs knew exactly what his conversation with Tony had started.
He also knew that he really, really needed to talk to the deputy director about getting a few undisturbed days off for his team, because there was no way Tony or Ziva could focus on a case in the interim.