Title: Complicated
Author: purplejello1786
Rating: T
Spoilers: None
Pairings: McGiva mostly; some Tiva
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of the characters. If I did, I would have vast amounts of money, would buy a small tract of land in the Antarctic Peninsula and could pet the penguins whenever I wanted.
Chapter One
Work, Monday morning, the usual. McGee was booting up his computer, listening to Tony and Ziva argue.
"Tony, no. No, and that is final. No more discussion."
"What are you talking about? We've been 'discussing' it since—" Tony pulled Ziva closer, but McGee could still hear. "Since we left my apartment," he said, quietly.
"Do you honestly think that no one here has noticed that we are sleeping together? There's no need to be so secretive about it." She looked at McGee. "You've noticed, haven't you? You must have; you're listening in on our conversation."
"No," McGee stuttered. "No, I wasn't, I—"
"Quit trying to distract me, Ziva," Tony said, cutting him off. "I still think you should at least think about it—"
"I have, Tony. I told you; I have. No. It's not going to happen."
"I have to admit I'm at a loss to know what you two could possibly be arguing about now that you've had sex," McGee said.
"None of your business, McGeek," Tony snapped. "Now, Ziva, c'mon; we need to talk." He tried to pull her away from her desk.
"No!" Her eyes flashed with the anger that all of them knew to be at the least frightening, at the worst fatal. "We are at work, I am here to do my job and I have made up my mind. Live with it." She sat down and turned on her computer, acting as though he wasn't there. Tony glared at her for a few minutes, then sulked back to his desk.
"You're going to regret this," he muttered.
"So you keep telling me," Ziva said. "But you're not going to convince me."
"Yeah, well, see if I have anything to do with it."
"Did I ask you to? Get to work before Gibbs shows up."
At that moment, Gibbs had, of course, shown up and asked what they were arguing about and if it was going to interfere with their work; they had of course denied it and hadn't said a word about it the rest of the day. But that, to McGee's knowledge had been the last day they had been 'together'; it seemed that they had broken up after that. They didn't come in with the same kind of drive-thru coffee anymore and when Ziva came down with a bug, Tony didn't catch it. As far as he could tell, they were completely over.
Still, he was a little wary about tonight.
Ziva had sounded kind of upset on the phone. McGee knew that Ziva's typical coping mechanism was that she didn't have one and just ignored the problem, hoping that it would go away. Problems that sat across the bullpen from you didn't go away, however, and he knew she probably still had some baggage a couple of months later. So he had agreed to go have dinner with her at a place not far from his apartment. Maybe he could cheer her up a little.
He was a little surprised when Ziva showed up at his door just as he was on his way out.
"Hi, Ziva," he said, looking at her strangely. "You ok?" She looked a little antsy.
"Can I come in?" she said.
"Aren't we about to go out to dinner?" She paced around his apartment for a minute.
"Ever had this inexplicable urge to shoot someone, McGee?" she asked him.
"Not many times, no," McGee replied. "Whoa; you didn't kill anyone, did you?"
"Not yet." She pressed her forehead into her hand. "It's just that—have you ever been shopping and those little scanners—you know—and the people in front of you are buying school supplies and have, from the looks of things, five thousand paper folders and they just keep beeping and beeping and—" She groaned. "I had to get out of there."
"Are you ok?" McGee asked.
"God, no. I don't think I should be around people today."
"Ok. Ok; do you want to be alone?"
"If I wanted to be alone, I would not have come here, McGee!" she said. Then she sighed. "I am sorry. It has been a very bad day."
"Sorry. I'm sorry. You, uh, want to hang out here for a little bit, maybe talk about it?"
"Thank you, McGee."
"Um, are you hungry? I can order something if you still want to eat."
Ziva sat down on his couch and thought for a minute and then smiled.
"Yes, I'm very hungry, actually."
"What's your favorite kind of pizza?"
"Spinach, and mushroom with jalapeños, pineapple and—" She stopped. "Too much?"
"No, no; my sister eats weird pizzas too. Was there anything else?"
"Um…well, you can't order it that way."
"I can get whatever you need." She looked a little embarrassed.
"Beets." McGee couldn't keep from looking surprised.
"Beets?"
"You asked!" Ziva said. "I can't help it if the eating habits in my country are different from here; if you Americans ate anything besides cheese and potato chips—"
"I know, I know. We're slobs," McGee said, trying to calm her down. "I'll get you the beets. You probably shouldn't go back to the store. You can hang out here; do whatever you want. Just—"
"Don't touch your typewriter or your papers. I know." She had calmed down and was now beaming at him. "I love you, McGee. Why can't more men be like you?" He smiled back at her and left.
"That was weird," he said to himself. He went to the store and got everything Ziva had asked for, along with a pizza crust. It would probably be easier to just make it themselves. He figured he would at least try it; his sister had made him try more weird food than he could count.
"I'm back," he called when he got in the door. He set the groceries down, put them away, but didn't see Ziva. "Ziva, you still here?"
"I'm still here, McGee." She definitely was. She had taken off her blazer; under it had been a turquoise camisole, the straps of which were hanging off onto her arms. Her hair was down, draped over her shoulders and she had a sultry look on her face that he had fantasized about before, but never actually seen. She walked up to him, letting her hips move so that a little bit of skin was exposed between her pants and her shirt when she took a step, and touched the buttons on his shirt. "Want to skip dinner?" she asked. "I appreciate you going to get what I wanted, but…there's something else I want right now." She took the shirt completely off, letting him see the bra underneath and, of course, a lot more of her skin.
McGee was sure he was dreaming. He stared at her, wondering what she was going to do next. She gave him a questioning look.
"Something wrong?"
"Um, I'm not sure," McGee said. "What is it exactly that you want?" Ziva gave him a look.
"Well, I'm slowly taking off my clothing and gazing at you lasciviously while touching your chest; I thought we could play a nice game of Scrabble."
"Ziva, no offense, but you playing Scrabble is a bit like Tony trying to hack into Playboy website to find out if he really knew that girl from the centerfold in high school. Not your thing." Ziva looked away for a moment, both of them remembering that incident. Then she raised her eyebrows at him.
"Are you low on testosterone or something?" she asked. "Sex. I am talking about sex. Would you like to have sex with me, McGee?"
McGee had never been made this offer and so didn't know what to say. "Umm, well…" Ziva stood back.
"You're 'umming' me?" she asked. "Don't pretend you don't stare at my ass and didn't try to look up my skirt that time when we were at the construction site. C'mon, McGee, here's your chance—maybe your only chance—to sleep with me; I'd take it if I were you."
McGee wasn't listening; he was forcing himself to focus on what the formula for Pythagoras' theorem because he couldn't remember anything more complicated, or even, in fact, what a triangle was. Finally, thanks to a mental domino effect whereby thinking about triangles somehow led him to the Jurassic Period, he managed to stop thinking about what Ziva looked like naked.
"Ziva," he began. "You are one of the most attractive women that I have ever known…"
"One?" Ziva snapped. "I am one of the most attractive women you have ever known? Do you only sleep with the ones at the top of the list? That would explain why you are so rarely with a girl."
"Wait, Ziva, that's not what I meant; I just—"
"If you don't want to sleep with me because you find me unattractive, there is no need to lie. Actually, I take that back; there is need to lie. You could have lied and told me I was the most attractive woman you had ever met, that I had the body of a goddess, that in my arms you could be stabbed in the spine with an ice pick and still die happy, but no, you decided to tell a woman who came to you for a little comfort that she wasn't attractive enough for you. You know I expected this of Tony, but not of you. Thank you for nothing, McGee. Enjoy your beets." She said all this while replacing her clothing and putting her shoes on.
"Hold on!" McGee yelled at her, jumping in front of her at the door. Ziva gave him her squinting, threatening look.
"Don't tempt me, McGee," she said.
"What I was going to say that you are very, very attractive and you do have the body of a goddess, although really I think the ice pick thing is pushing it, and I would love to sleep with you. You would be the hottest woman I have ever hooked up with. But—" he said, as she started eyeing him again. "I don't really want to just 'hook up' with you. You're my co-worker. I don't think it would be good for our cases if I'm constantly thinking about you naked while we're at work. And it just—it really isn't my thing. I don't really like one-night-stands. I'm sorry." Ziva looked thoughtful.
"So what does it take to make you feel comfortable with sex?" she asked.
"Well, at least one date, preferably more," he said. "The potential for an actual relationship would be nice—what about Tony?"
"I think you would be adorable together, but I don't know if Tony could provide the kind of commitment and stability you need."
"No, I mean, would he get upset? Are you two officially broken up?"
"Oh, yes. Definitely. I don't know if we were ever even together. It really was just sex and afterward having to listen to him tell me which movie actress I sounded like in bed. Don't worry about Tony." She looked at him. "So you want a date?"
"Do you want a date? You really want to have sex with me that badly?"
"No, it's not that. I mean--you know what I mean. You've been really nice to me tonight and I would like to spend time with you. I take it I ruined tonight for you?"
"Little too soon after I've seen you in your underwear."
"Ok. You still have all the ingredients for the pizza; I'll come over and make it for you tomorrow night. Does that work?"
"Sure," McGee said.
"Then tomorrow it is. I'll be looking forward to it. Bye, McGee." She slipped past him and left.
McGee went back to his typewriter, went back to a romantic scene he had been puzzling over and typed the hero saying 'I would take an ice pick to the spine for you.' Then he nodded.
"Perfect," he said.
