(tony/ziva) Modern Love

Chapter 1: Only Girl (in the world)


He'd sensed it once they were alone, her apprehension, the team having vacated the bull pen for the evening. The tight air settled uncomfortably between them, and Tony was trying, futilely but nonetheless determinedly, to catch her attention. He threw her a few goofy glances, pounded his keyboard unnecessarily hard, feigning technical difficulty, and let out a few meticulously timed sighs.

All he wanted was to elicit some sort of reaction from her, but alas, he got nothing.

And when she gathered her things to leave, all Tony could do was follow suit, quietly keeping pace two steps behind her like a sad, scolded puppy.

She'd been home less than half an hour, barely enough time to shower, when he knocked on her door.

Ziva padded barefoot down the short spans of hardwood flooring, squeezing the excess water out of her hair into a fluffy blue towel, and opened the door.

"Tony," she breathed.

He brushed past her hurriedly, dropping his gear at her feet. "One second," he called over his shoulder, lifting a finger to mimic his words. "Little boy's room."

"Can I help you?"

But before he had a chance to answer, there was a second knock on her door.

Two visitors in one night? Unlikely.

"Are you being chased, Tony?" she teased loudly.

It was probably the single dad from downstairs who kept asking Ziva to ping his daughter's cell phone.

Ugh.

A hard knock came again; "Delivery!"

She opened the door to find a teenage boy carrying a rather hefty looking brown paper bag.

And from the looks of it, something had leaked, she noticed, the bottom soaked with, was that grease, or duck sauce?

She hoped the latter.

"$15.50," he specified hastily.

"Is that the food, Ziva?" Tony yelled, his voice echoing from behind the wooden door of the bathroom. "My wallet is in the front pocket."

She weighed her options, finally acquiesced with the idea of Tony's company for the evening, he was already here anyways, and she dug his wallet out of his big, black utility backpack, handing the fresh faced kid a crisp twenty.

"Thanks!"

And when Ziva kneeled down to put Tony's wallet back in place, she saw it.

Her eyes fell upon an old, creased, all too familiar picture. She stole a quick glance behind her before unfolding it, an unintentional smile finding its way to her lips.

It was crumpled, having been tucked in the far right corner of the old leather lining, behind a bunch of twenty and fifty dollar bills.

It was her.

It was Ziva, in her black bikini on that old beach chair by the pool in LA.

He'd kept it, for what?

Five years.

Ziva heard the creaking bathroom door, and she quickly shoved everything back into place, heading for the kitchen, pulling two stools towards the island.

"We all good?" Tony asked. He took the plates and silverware from her hands, eager to steal even the slightest touch, the smallest glance.

And Ziva allowed it, the slight brush of his fingers, wondering for a moment how she'd let herself get so worked up, for nothing.

"Yes, Tony," she smiled. "We are good."

Fin.


A/N; I posted this to tumblr earlier, but I thought it would be a good way to start a place where I'll keep my drabbles and such in regards to t/z. Just because I can't turn all my little plot bunnies into full chapter fics!

Anywho, thanks for reading;

reviews would be lovely!

Katie.