Everyone's getting into the no_safety_pin challenge, so I thought I'd give it a whirl on here. If I get enough good feedback, I'll post it on LiveJournal. Whole lotta Tiva angst. I hope this is a good fic.
Disclaimer: disclaimed
…
It was close to midnight by the time they got back. They were cold, wet, and exhausted. All to be expected from a 12-day non-stop stakeout.
Tempers and patience levels were short, also to be expected. What wasn't expected was that two particular people acting strangely from day one.
Tony and Ziva had been arguing nonstop. No amount of head slaps would stop it; they just gave up and tried to tune it out.
A sharp word or a simple movement would start it up again, picking up from where the previous argument had ended.
This time, the offense was Tony saying that he would've been better off walking to the Navy Yard, because the amount of pain would be the same.
Suddenly, personal space is nonexistent. Only the stares of onlookers force the two to stop. And they only stop, apparently, to relocate to a more private place.
It's intriguing that a federal office building has so many unused hallways. They circle each other, a sort of dance fueled by emotions that make a category five tornado look like a cool summer breeze.
Tony breaks the silence, "I can't believe we had to move someplace quieter because you can't control the volume of your voice. God, I thought you had more control, Officer David."
And so it begins.
The mocking barb of her former title hits home. Both are too angry to notice the immense drop in their shielding.
Ziva retaliates, "At least I can control certain parts of my anatomy." If the words weren't obvious enough, the quick glance to his pants, make it so.
Tony snorts, "That's what you think."
Ziva hisses, "What's that supposed to mean? Because I recall you are the one who took a different girl to bed every night."
Tony throws his hands up, "God, having a conversation with you, it's like juggling a grenade while trying to put the pin back in."
Ziva laughs bitterly, "Of course you would think that. You can't actually hold a normal conversation with normal people, and suddenly, I can't hold conversations."
They are still circling each other, too angry and scared to find out what happens if they stop. They are also subconsciously moving in closer, the circle getting tighter.
This may be what people refer to as magnetic. That connection that draws you to another person. Unfortunately, with Tony and Ziva, they aren't magnetic, just a war zone.
All sorts of traps in the form of double-edged words dealt with stunning precision and bullets in the form of glares and avoidances. Too bad, Kevlar vests don't help much in this war.
Insults go lightning fast, until Ziva passes Tony and he grabs her arm.
She gives him a glare the equivalent of hot coals. "I suggest you remove your hand or have me do it for you."
Tony just stares and her glare is replaced by a look of confusion.
He speaks, "We can stand here all night and circle each other, fighting. That's not going to accomplish anything." He pulls out his pocket, a slim silver object.
It's a safety pin.
Her eyes widen. He contemplates it for a moment.
Then he throws it over his shoulder.
"I've always been a pretty good juggler, but this time, I'll take my chances."
Their lips meet. You can almost hear the universe sighing in relief.
They break apart. The war is over. Two white flags.
Tony grabs her pinky in his. A subtle sign of affection.
As they walk away, the hallway is devoid of the emotions that were just occupying it.
All that's left?
A safety pin.