Tony didn't know how much more he could take. Eighteen straight hours on the job, and eighteen consistent hours of Ziva and her elevator eyes. Up and down, staring, reaching into him when he couldn't hide. Three weeks of dating meant that they had yet to tell their coworkers, but had until today not spent more than twelve hours together without resolving their tension together.
The day had started with a 0500 call from Gibbs. They were strong at first, all attraction ignored from their state of half-consciousness, begrudgingly piling into separate cars to drive to the navy yard. By 1000 they were caffeinated and focused, but Tony's attention started to drift as Ziva decided that her top button was unnecessary. Her second button would last until 1200. At that time, Tony found relief when Gibbs sent him out with McGee to interview a witness. He knew the boss was suspicious of him and Ziva, quickly looking between the two as they avoided their usual case banter. By the time he returned at 1700, Tony was not the only one losing concentration on the case. Her theories to the PFC's disappearance had all been shot down, and Ziva's temper found a different outlet than her usual slamming of the filing cabinet drawers.
Gibbs allowed them a quick dinner break around 2000. That was when Tony accepted he would not make it through the evening. She had sat at her desk, arranged her takeout Chinese in front of her, and stared across the bullpen at her partner in more-than-crime. He had tried to make small talk, asking her about her leads, cracking a joke about keeping kosher, but she kept silent, continually staring at him. She did not respond, only looked him dead in the eye, her feet propped on her desk, leaning back into her chair with her arms folded behind her neck. She brought one hand down to her desk, running it along her pantsleg as she reached for the fortune cookie that complemented her meal. She slowly unwrapped it, pursing her lips, eyes crawling down to the hollow of his throat and back up again, landing on the shadow of stubble that was forming on his jawline. Tony swallowed as her eyes abandoned his and darted quickly to the white slip of paper that she rubbed between her thumb and forefinger. "All your hard work will soon pay off. Hmm" Her gaze returned to him, she stretched her lips into a grin. "I can only hope." Tony blanched, and attempted to copy her grin to save a little face: he felt the back of his neck flush.
Gibbs' frustration at the two only increased, and by 0100 that evening, he gave up on his tired team, barking at them to get some sleep before returning at 0700. Tony haphazardly threw his belongings into his backpack, and saw Ziva mirror him across the bullpen. They rushed to the elevator, pushing the close door button repeatedly, leaving poor McGee to wait. They stood in the center, arms brushing, until Tony felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. "So." Ziva said, breathing heavily.
"So." said Tony weakly. He gave a lame smile. "My place or-"
"Your place. My car." Ziva demanded, turning the same predatory eyes on him that he'd faced at dinner. The joke he'd been pondering making was killed before complete conception, slid back down his throat with his audible gulp. The elevator doors finally opened to the underground parking garage, and Ziva grabbed his hand, leading him to her bright red convertible. She gently pushed him against the passenger door, and her stoic gaze melted into a smile, her eyes still dark with her need. She slowly leaned up, resting her right arm on his shoulder as she softly kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck. They both closed their eyes, grateful for their stolen moment of intimacy, thankful that the need to hide had vanished at least for a few hours. Tony inhaled, taking in the scent of her hair, glad he would have the next six hours to again commit it to memory. "In." She said in an attempt to be stern, forcibly pulling herself off him. He opened the door and climbed into her passengers seat.
Ziva had yet to start the engine before Tony's cell rang. "DiNozzo." He listened as Gibbs barked on the other end. BOLO came back. Found the guy. Grab coffee, then come back immediately. Tony felt his skin crawl red. He shut the phone, unable to answer his boss. They were just about to be out of the damn Navy Yard, and Tony thought he would no longer be able to ignore the tight feeling his slacks had since 2300. "Ziva..."
Her jaw lowered in disbelief. "No."
He shook his head. "It's um.. just a few more hours. We can do it."
She shook her head slowly, the unreadable gaze from earlier returning to accompany her liquid eyes. She unclasped her seatbelt, but instead of reaching for the door handle, swung her legs back and pulled herself into the leather backseat. She grabbed his wrists, sliding her palms up his forearms till they reached his elbows. "No, we can not."