There was nothing unusual going on, really.
It was pretty common for them to do this. A tradition, even. Though a very sad, pathetic one.
And yet, it was one they fell into time and time again. When Gibbs left for Mexico. After Jenny's death. Mike Franks. A handful of times in between when the pressures of their line of work just got to be a little too much and their demons got just a little too close.
They turned to each other. That's what made their partnership so strong. They could bicker and insult each other all day long, it would never overshadow the fact that they had become mildly co-dependent in times of crisis. Okay, maybe it was a bit more than mild.
Point being, it wasn't at all surprising that Tony went home with her that night. If there was ever an event that could be labeled traumatic, a bomb going off at your place of work and causing you to get stuck in an elevator for hours without any knowledge of your coworker's wellbeings was that event.
Tony liked her place. Her most recent one especially. It was a cozy little apartment. Tan walls. Tasteful decorations. And an overstuffed couch that was to die for. Her place was nice. Her place was home. Sometimes more so than his own.
As they approached, each partner fell into their routine without a word between them. He held her bag as she opened the door. She turned on the light and made her way to the kitchen while he took up his post in the living room.
Ziva was in charge of food, naturally since it was her apartment. Meals took the form of many different things given that one never really anticipated horrible things happening and therefore did not think ahead to prepare for the aftermath. Sometimes she was lucky enough to have leftovers hanging around in her fridge that she could simply plate and reheat. Other times, she reached for various frozen packages to warm up and throw together. If things were particularly desperate, she would order Chinese food from the place across the street simply because the delivery time was much shorter than their favorite pizza place.
While tonight was indeed quite desperate (not only had Dearing been rude enough to blow up their home, he had also managed to evade them or months, meaning grocery shopping had been rather low on the Israeli's priority list lately), she was amazed to find a neatly stored casserole dish sitting on the top shelf in her fridge. There was a small note sitting in front of it.
I could not stop watching the news. I was very thankful to hear you and your team made it out alright. I hope Lasagna helps to ease some of your sorrows.
- Mrs. Matthews
Ziva smiled to herself, forever thankful to have snagged the best landlady in all of the District.
So she grabbed some plates and loaded each with generous helpings of the dish, then grabbed her final two beers off the bottom shelf and joined her partner in the other room.
He was already seated on his side of the couch, meaning the DVD must have already been selected and loaded into the player. Per his best efforts, she had managed to acquire a humble collection of movies. And any time he wanted to watch something she did not have, the movie would miraculously appear in her collection the following week. She often wondered why he bothered, but just assumed he found it convenient to have a stash at her place.
"This looks delicious," he commented as she handed him his share.
"I take no credit. Turns out the appropriate response to one of your tenants being blown up is to provide comfort food. You Americans very cease to amaze me."
He chuckled as she made her way around to her own side of the furniture and got comfortable.
"What are we watching?" She asked.
"Hate to break it to you, but tonight is a repeat. Though, you won't mind too much. Goldfinger never gets old."
She nodded, tucking her legs under herself as she took a long swig of her beer. They both settled into place as the beginning credit started.
And it was once again, all utterly familiar. Almost rehearsed. They ate their meals from opposite sides of the couch. Once done, they would migrate toward the middle. As beers were finished off, they would absently tangle themselves together. One leg would stretch out this way, and then it would be covered by another. Hands would meet. Arms would slide across each other. They paced themselves well, which normally meant the kissing held off until the final scene had played. But as end credits rolled, they would become indulgent. Clothes would come off, bare skin would be fawned over, and sweaty bodies would collide in the hideously blue light of the DVD screen saver.
It always proceeded this way. No matter who was dating who, what fight they found themselves in the middle of, or how much they wanted to believe they had the self-control to stop doing it, these nights of comfort always ended the same way. It was inevitable.
"Do you think we take too much comfort in each other?" Ziva whispered against the skin of his neck as she held on tighter.
He shrugged, and the action jostled her slightly where she was laying on top of him. He slid his arms farther around her bare waist to hold her steady, "For friends? Probably."
She lifted her head so she could get a better look at his face, "For partners?"
He smirked, slipping his leg between hers, "Definitely."
She nodded, shuffling around a bit until she was able to lay her arms across his chest and rest her chin on top of them, looking up at him with smoldering eyes for a long time before speaking again, "What about for lovers?"
His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back down at her, trying to process what meaning her eyes and strange tone could be conveying. Why would she be talking like this now? They had done this a dozen times. Nothing was different about tonight. Nothing had changed.
Except lots had changed. She had grown up. He had matured. They were closer than ever before, both in their relationship to each other and in their ideas for the future. Their partnership had changed. The way they looked at each other had changed.
So, why shouldn't this change, too? Why shouldn't this mean something more than just two broken people looking for a little bit of comfort, a little human affection after a hard day? Why shouldn't this be something more?
Why shouldn't today mark the beginning of something real? Something permanent?
After the day they had, it was impossible to deny the fact that their lives were short. And fragile. If they weren't safe in the office, on the naval base, then where would they ever truly be?
Right here, his brain told him. Right now. You are safe. She is safe. Look at her, DiNozzo. Have you ever seen her so relaxed? You make her feel this way. And she makes you feel the same. Sure, safety might be an illusion. But goddammit, it feels good to be fooled by it.
He cleared his throat before speaking again, finding himself pathetically emotional over his moment with his beautiful partner.
"Don't think they have a limit."
She smiled as she slid her arms off his chest and wrapped them around his torso, lowering her cheek to rest on his skin, "Good."
He smiled back, even though she wasn't looking, and gently smoothed down her unruly hair as he watched her eyes slide closed.
"Good," he whispered back.
Okay...
I know this is like really short. And it's really not much for plot or anything. But I happened to catch a rerun on 10x01 a few days ago and I just got in my feels about what season 10 could have been. And I really felt like there was a missing scene between the day of the explosion and Tiva walking through the yard with Gibbs and Fornell. Something was just... different about the two of them in that scene. It felt like something had changed, and we hadn't been given the opportunity to watch it. Hence, this little diddy.
Oh, and I have literally NEVER been one to think that Tony and Ziva were hooking up throughout their partnership. I honestly don't even think they slept together over that summer when Gibbs was in Mexico. But for some reason, I made that the reality in this fic. I can't explain why. The muses made the decision for me.
And now I'll address my sporadic and random uploading. I know I should be posting a new chapter of Revelations (that's coming, I promise) or even the next installment of Chaval, but honestly, I feel like I don't have control over what stories and chapters I work on when. I get inspired by different concepts at different times, and I can't force myself to write something I'm not vibing with that week. Plus there's always school interrupting my marathon writing sessions. I love my stories. Every one of them (maybe minus Alexandria. That makes me cringe sometimes) and I don't want to pump out uninspired chapters (because if I did that, I would be no better to these characters than the show writers, tbh). So I hope you guys are okay with me uploading randomly and sometimes popping out one-shots. Because I have a lotta one-shots in my folder that I can get randomly inspired by, and I don't want to have to wait to upload them.
So yeah. That's it for this author's note. I know this story isn't my most elaborate, but hey, everyone needs a little fluffy drabble now and then.
Reviews are loved and cherished and saved to a folder in my email for days I'm sad and feeling like a bad writer. Basically, I love hearing what y'all have to say. Please give me feedback.