Based on anonymous prompt on tumblr: "anything involving our ninja having toothache and Tony taking care of her." :)
Enjoy!
Tony scans the Good Housekeeping table of contents, but he finds nothing more interesting than tips on closet organization. With an exaggerated yawn, he tosses the magazine aside. "Are there comment cards around here?" he asks the grumpy receptionist.
She doesn't stop tapping on her keyboard. "No."
"Oh. Well, do you think you could ask Dr. Sanchez to put some better reading out here? Maybe a Sports Illustrated or something?" He notices a man sitting on the other side of the waiting room. "You with me?"
The guy opens his mouth, but withers under the receptionist's glare. Tony is trying to decide whether or not he should run for his life when the door to the dentist's operating room opens and, mercifully, Ziva emerges, one hand over her swollen left cheek.
"Hey," he says, standing up. "How'd it go?"
"It hurts," she whines in a very un-Ziva-like fashion. She puts her forehead on his shoulder. Not expecting this, he startles and accidentally bumps the sensitive side of her face. She draws back abruptly. "Ow!"
"Sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"I really need my medication now," she says, and thrusts a prescription into his hand. "The anesthesia is wearing off. Let's go."
Tony doesn't argue- after all, she's not terribly happy with him right now. He places a hand on the small of her back and starts to leave. They only take a couple of steps before she stumbles.
"Whoa." He pulls her upright and into his side. "Jeez, you really are loopy."
"Have you ever had a root canal?"
"No."
"Then you may not tell me how loopy I am."
"Okay," he says patiently, and apologizes once more as they limp out of the waiting room. "Sorry. Come on. There you go."
Note to self: stop pissing Ziva off.
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They run by the pharmacy to pick up the pain pills. Ziva demands that he give her one right that second. Her cheek is still numb; some of the water she drinks to help wash the medicine down spills into her lap. Tony turns away so she doesn't see him laughing.
When they arrive at her apartment, she collapses on the couch and he heads into the kitchen to check out the food situation. A quick survey of the fridge and cabinets reveals that she has absolutely nothing appropriate for a toothache.
"Tony," she says as he reenters the living room. She's on her back with both hands stretched above her. "How many fingers do I have?"
He remembers his teammates' imitations of him on painkillers and thinks that the universe is surely taunting him right now. Going to her side, he grasps her hands and places them on her stomach. "Try to take a nap," he orders gently. "I'm gonna run out and get some ice cream. You want chocolate chip, right?"
Unexpectedly, she grabs his belt loop. "Stay here."
"Ziva," he says patiently, "I'll be right back."
"I need a pillow."
"I'll get you one."
"You be my pillow."
"Don't you want some ice cream?"
"No," she responds as if it's the stupidest idea she's ever heard, then lifts her head and pats the spot where it had been. Helplessly, Tony sits down. She settles against him. "So was it nine?"
"What?"
"Nine fingers?"
It takes him a minute, but then he realizes that he never answered her question from when he first came in. "Ten," he corrects gently. "Ten toes, too."
"Huh." Ziva appears to be processing this information. He wishes he had a video camera. A moment later, she turns toward his stomach and touches the fabric of his shirt. "What color is this?"
"Blue."
"Are you sure?"
"I did pass kindergarten," he quips.
She looks confused.
"Never mind. Please," he begs. "Go to sleep."
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For a while, she does doze, and he turns on the TV, keeping the volume low. He's just beginning his third episode of Duck Dynasty when she awakes with a loud cry.
"What's wrong?"
"Hurts." She draws out the vowel sound. Man, he can't wait to give her crap about this later.
Tony glances at the clock. "You can't have anymore medicine for an hour."
To his horror, tears spring into her eyes. "Hey," he says, tentatively rubbing her jaw with his thumb. When she doesn't flinch, he moves it closer to the sore area. "Does that help at all?"
"Noooo."
"I really think ice cream would feel good on that tooth, Ziva," he presses, and her shoulders sag in defeat. Wordlessly, she sits up and allows him to slip out from beneath her. As he helps his completely miserable partner to her feet, he makes a resolution to take better care of his own teeth. Starting tonight.
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Ziva grudgingly admits that the ice cream was a good idea. By the time they get back to her apartment with a gallon of it, she is able to take more painkillers; within thirty minutes, she's gone nuts again. She tells Tony, "You're a genius. You didn't used to be so smart," and then she adds, "My mouth is cold. It's freezing. Like an igloo. An igloo in my mouth." Giggling in a high-pitched voice he's never heard from her, ever, she lifts her empty bowl. "I want more."
And what else is there to do but comply?
It grows later. She has the next day off, but he doesn't- Gibbs was kind of annoyed that he missed work to take her to the dentist in the first place. So around nine, when he gives her another pill, he says, "Ziva, I gotta go."
"Don't go," she orders. "I need you."
Tony puts the pill bottle on the counter and points to the instructions printed on the side. "Every four hours. Okay?"
In the span of only a second, she has bounded up to him and thrown her arms around his waist. He places a hand lightly, hesitantly, on her back. "Let's get you to bed," he says. "Come on. I'm sure you're tired. And you'll feel better in the morning."
"Sleep with me," she says. Even though he knows what she means, he's uncomfortable with those words being spoken while she's glued to him.
"Go put on some pajamas." Tony gently dislodges himself from her grip. "I'll be right there."
Ziva does as she is told. He waits a couple minutes before heading to her bedroom. Once there, he peeks inside and finds her already in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. She catches his eye and motions at the space beside her. He, not knowing what else to do, splays out on top of the covers.
She moves so that her entire torso is on top of him and one knee is tucked between his. Tony rubs her shoulder blades through the fabric of her tank top, wondering how he'll be able to sneak out of here now.
Ziva says, "Your stomach is squishy. Like on TV, the, um… Pillsbury Doughboy, yes?"
"You calling me fat?" he asks, more amused than anything.
"No," she says, and pokes him in the belly. "Just soft."
"Ziva."
"What?"
"Shhh."
She falls silent, causing him to smile… but only for a moment. Then, somewhat blearily, she says, "I love you."
Tony's breath catches in his throat. In her current state of mind, it's impossible to tell where this is coming from, how much truth there is in it. He is being very truthful when he replies, "I love you, too."
He only dares to admit it because she won't remember in the morning.
That's okay. Because for now, it makes her smile.