So I'm starting a new story.
But it's not really a story.
Just a collection of Tiva oneshots of all shapes and sizes.
And this has nothing to do with the band Guns&Roses. I just reallyreally liked that name.
There will be drabbles, tags, and anything under 1000 words. All Tiva, all romance, whether it be angst or humor romance.
In some they will be together, some they are so close to being together, others, you won't even be sure.
Most will not be in the same world, and if they are, I will tell you. I promise.
So, enjoy!
Guns
The warm water is relaxing on her strong, smooth skin.
Things were busy nowadays and it seemed the shower was the only place she could go to clear her mind. Out of everything in her new apartment, she had spent the most research on her showerhead until she found the perfect water pressure. It was heavy, but not sharp, massaging her chest and back and washing away the stresses of the day.
The water against the porcelain floor was loud and the steam fogged up the windows, but the jiggling of her front door handle and the eventual open of the door did not go unheard.
The shaking of the metal makes her stop mid chorus and furrow her eyebrows.
And with the unlocking of the deadbolt, a towel is wrapped quickly over her soaking body and her gun is in her hand.
She stands vigilantly against the doorframe, the door slightly ajar slightly, moving her head slowly to see if she can get a good look at the intruder. But there is silence.
Her SIG is raised to her face, which is as alarmed and steady as she usually is in this kinda of situation. There is a creak in the floorboard and she inhales deeply, beginning to the countdown silently.
3…2…1…
She turns out of her bathroom sharply, with one swift pivot of her foot, the gun raised directly in front of her.
Her intruder's eyes are wide and innocent and he is frozen in place for a moment, stunned. The half-eaten roll in his mouth drops to the floor.
Ziva lets out a sharp breath, lowering her gun and tightening the towel around her body. She shakes her head and he beams a smile, a chuckle is about to burst.
"Tony! I almost shot you!" she resists the urge to give him a swift smack to the chest.
But he just keeps on smiling. "You would never." He tests her playfully.
"I came quite close." She takes another deep breath before finally locking eyes with him. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asks slightly tiredly.
"It's Tuesday. I brought dinner, Italian." He explains turning to the huge white paper bag on her dining room table.
Her confused expression is still frozen on him. "Tony, it is your week."
"Hmm?" he hums, looking up from the bags. "No its not." He says simply.
"Yes…" she assures him, taking a step closer to him. He pauses, a soft smile on his face as the steam that was still lingering on her body is practically wrapping around him. She stands on her tippy toes, chin to chin. "We were here last week."
His eyes wander down her body slowly, lost in her warmth and beauty, he resists the urge to touch her, and Ziva can feel his struggle. "Oh…right."
Ziva smirks, knowing he is not speaking from his mouth.
"Well, you are here, and so is the food, so no matter. Plus, now I will not feel guilty about not making my bed this morning." She inches closer to him, until he can almost feel her smile on his lips.
And she is surprised that it is he that stops her.
His hand is wrapped around her lower arm, and it is slowly crawling down to her wrist. She opens her eyes and watches his lips as he maneuvers his hand to her gun without a single peek.
He takes it cautiously out of her hand and watched her smirk grow. "Let's put this away first hmm?" he places it on the table next to them. She steals a quick glance towards it before returning to his eyes.
He cups her cheek in his hand. "Wouldn't want any casualties would we?"
Well I can usually knock out a few of these at a time. And I'm working on a few tags to Dead Air.