A/N: I continue to not own NCIS. Or be married to Michael Weatherly. Funny how that works. This story takes place a couple months after my other story (The Good in the Hurt) ended. It's not necessary to read that one, but it would make my day if you do. =) I tried to stay in-character and in-canon. I hope you like it. I have some more chapters in the works. Reviews are so helpful, but thank you for reading whether you have time to review or not.
Scanning through the hoards of people milling about Washington Dulles International Airport, Tony finally glimpsed Ziva. She was standing outside of their agreed upon meeting place, a coffee shop, tapping her foot and looking around irritably.
"They put too much moxie in your java, Ziva?" Tony asked, sauntering up to her.
Ziva narrowed her eyes at him.
"You said you needed ten minutes to find something to read on the plane. It's been over half an hour."
"Yeah, but I passed by a store and couldn't resist picking up a pair of these babies."
Tony whipped an Armani box out of his pocket to reveal new sunglasses.
"You couldn't have waited until we get to Paris to make your purchases?"
"They were on sale! And besides, Armani is Italian, Ziva. Got to hang on to my heritage somehow."
Ziva rolled her eyes and picked up her carry-on.
"Let's go, Dinozzo."
"Ah, Par-ee," Tony sighed dreamily, letting Ziva lead the way to their terminal. "This so beats working on paperwork with McGee."
"It's still a job," Ziva reminded him. "And if we screw it up, Gibbs will make sure we never leave our desks again, much less the country."
"Not even 0700 and you're being a buzz killer."
"Someone has to have the awful job of keeping your 'buzz' checked out."
"I think you mean keeping my buzz 'in check,' oh linguistically-skilled one. And don't flatter yourself. You'd be lucky to check out my buzz."
"I would rather kill it."
Tony stared at her retreating form, appalled, until he accidentally ran into a group of nuns.
Ziva turned around to see Tony being pelted by several large, floral carpet bags.
"I'm not a pervert!" Tony shouted, ducking. "That was my gun you felt!"
When security finally released them an hour later, and they were allowed to board their flight, Ziva still would not stop glaring at him.
"I said I was sorry!" Tony told her, violently shoving their carry-ons into the overhead compartment. "But you were distracting me!"
"Yes, I should know better than to talk to you while you are performing such a difficult task as walking," Ziva snapped, slapping Tony's hands away as she reached around him to adjust their luggage.
When the compartment finally clicked shut, Ziva smiled up at him smugly. He exhaled loudly and motioned for her to sit down.
"I thought you would want the window seat since you've never seen Paris before." Ziva tilted her head at him.
"I'd rather have an escape route," Tony growled, taking her elbow to encourage her to sit.
When they were both settled and fastening their seatbelts, a man in his sixties or seventies leaned over from his seat across the aisle and tapped Tony's shoulder.
"Second honeymoon, huh?" The man grinned at him.
"What?" Tony startled.
"Nothing wrong with putting a little excitement back in the marriage," the man said, eyes twinkling as he turned and regarded the woman sitting next to him. "Works for me and June every time."
The woman looked up from her crocheting, stared from her husband to Tony to her husband again and, rolling her eyes, resumed her yarn work.
"In fact, works so well this is June's and my…38th honeymoon, right, sweet pea?"
June replied without looking up, "Hush, Frank. No one needs to hear your wisdom on an 8-hour flight when they can't escape."
Frank frowned at her.
"Don't be silly. Conversation is an excellent way to pass the time." He turned back to Tony. "I, myself, wouldn't have suggested Paris for the second honeymoon."
Before Tony could respond, he felt Ziva's elbow digging into his thigh as she leaned over him and asked, "Why is that?"
"Too intense," Frank replied quickly. "Paris is for love that goes all the way into your bones. It's the only city we've found that can reach it. Most people who go on a second honeymoon need Hawaii or Cancun, where they can just have a quick refresher on fruity drinks and sexy rendezvous. Paris…should not be entered into lightly."
"I thought it was the city of light," Tony offered weakly.
Frank was about to reply when his wife cut him off by jabbing him in the side with her crochet needle.
"You're doing it again, Frank," she scolded him. "Here. Take your Valium."
Frank muttered darkly but did as he was told. While he dug in his navy blue medication bag, June leaned over him to tell Tony and Ziva, "I'm sorry. He won't admit it, but he's terrified of flying. Always has been. It wasn't until after a 12-hour flight to Qatar that I refused to ever travel with him unless he got something to stop his nervous chattering."
"Valium does the trick, eh?" Tony asked.
"Not as well as this anesthetic I found for him in Peru." June stared at her husband disapprovingly. "But that's hard to keep on hand, and Valium was the heaviest our physician would give us. But I've noticed if I triple the dose, he sleeps the whole way and doesn't bother anyone."
Tony gave her a terrified smile.
"Switch places with me," he whispered to Ziva.
"I thought you wanted the aisle so you could escape," Ziva replied drily.
"I lied. Please protect me."
"You're fine. Be quiet, or I'll ask June to sedate you."
"I think she'd enjoy that."
"We all would, Tony."
A few hours into the flight, Tony was watching a movie with lots of kung-fu moves, Ziva was reading a book, Frank was unconscious, and June was crocheting complacently. Ziva tugged at Tony's headphones.
"Can you get my coat please?" she requested.
"You're cold?"
She nodded.
"Even with both our blankets?"
She nodded again.
"Women," he muttered. "Why can't they regulate their body temperatures like the rest of us?"
Tossing Ziva her blue coat, she put it on backwards to cover her, and Tony helped tuck the other blankets around her.
"I was meaning to ask," Tony felt her soft, blue collar. "Is this another new coat? Being an NCIS probie must pay a lot better than your Mossad gig. How many jackets have you bought this year, anyway?"
"It is not new," Ziva replied, ignoring his question. She seemed deep in thought. After a few moments, she continued, "I bought it in Paris several years ago. Tali got a matching one, in green. After she…our Aunt Nettie kept them for us because Eli thought anything we couldn't wear in the field was a frivolous purchase."
Tony didn't say anything, just waited for her eyes to meet his. When they did, he smiled. The compassion in his eyes made Ziva's breath catch. She looked out the window and said, "After I resigned from Mossad, Aunt Nettie sent both coats to me. I tried on Tali's, but it was too small."
Tony wanted to say something profound, but he had to settle for replying, "Well, this one fits you nice."
Ziva smiled, thanking him, and closed her eyes.
Realizing he was staring at her, Tony turned back to his movie.
A little while later, while Tony was engrossed with how fast Jackie Chan could move his hands, he felt Ziva shift in her sleep and rest her head against his shoulder. The subtle jasmine scent of her hair triggered a memory of a couple months earlier when Ziva had slept in his bed. He had been there too. It was awesome. They hadn't had sex or kissed or anything, but it was a colossal leap in the boundaries of their partnership/friendship. She had left after breakfast the next morning. When they saw each other in the office the following Monday, his uneasy eyes met her guarded ones, and they made a tacit agreement not to mention their sleepover. The first few days had been awkward, but by the end of the week, Tony and Ziva were back to their usual teasing and fighting.
When the movie finished, Tony realized his cheek was resting on Ziva' head. Too drowsy to readjust, Tony closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her silky hair against his skin. It felt simple to sit like this. It made him feel comfortable. When she had gotten together with Rivkin, everything became complicated. Rivkin, and then Somalia, had surfaced feelings Tony hadn't known he had, hadn't known he was capable of. He had been willing to "sacrifice his career" for her. He "couldn't live without" her. "Ziva's not replaceable." These were by far the deepest emotions he had ever felt for someone. Their sleepover had made him revisit some of those feelings. He suspected it had been a lot for her too. Rebuilding some distance between them had seemed like the right thing to do.
Yet, as Ziva turned into him more and placed her hand on his chest, Tony's whole body ached to pull her close. Checking his watch and realizing he would have to endure this torture for another four hours, Tony sighed, loosened his tie and threw an arm around Ziva. She shifted closer to him, and he could feel her breasts against his ribcage. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking, "Damned if I do. Damned if I don't."
Tony woke suddenly a few hours later with a definite feeling that someone was staring at him. He opened his left eye to see if Ziva was about to reprimand him for something, but she was still snoring softly. He looked to his right to find that the stare belonged to Frank who, much to June's dismay, had roused from his coma ahead of schedule.
"Maybe you two can handle Paris after all." He smiled at Tony slowly. "I could tell you stories…"
"Stop it, Frank," June elbowed him."Leave the poor couple alone."
"We're actually not a couple at all," Tony protested, attempting to shove Ziva out of his space.
"Stop it, Tony," Ziva muttered groggily, swatting at him and dropping her head back onto his shoulder.
Tony looked at June and Frank.
"We're not!" he protested weakly.
"Clearly." The couple said together.
He returned his eyes to Ziva who was slowly sitting up and stretching her arms, which made him painfully aware of how perfectly her thin sweater hugged her frame, neglecting not one single curve. He simultaneously thanked and cursed the inventor of cashmere.
"Don't google." Ziva snapped him out of his trance.
"Ogle," he corrected furiously. "And if you don't want me to, then don't put your girly parts on me while you're sleeping!"
Ziva stared at him a few moments before she burst out laughing.
"It's not funny," he muttered darkly.
"Excuse me, I- giggle – don't know –gasp- what you are talking –gasp giggle- about."
"Your…you know…girly area…"
Ziva raised her eyebrows at him.
"Fine, your breasts! They decided to have a snuggle with me while you were sleeping."
Ziva laughed even harder.
"How –gasp- scandalous of them!"
"I can't believe you think this is funny."
"I just –guffaw- can't take them anywhere."
"Did June slip you something when you went to the bathroom after lunch?"
"No. Did she slip you something?" Ziva laughed, wiping a tear off her cheek. "Or have you always felt this threatened by my breasts? I have been told many times that I, as an operative, am intimidating, but I always assumed my breasts were not part of that equation."
Tony stared at this unfamiliar creature beside him.
"I can't believe we are talking about this."
"You're the one who woke me up to lecture me about my rogue breasts."
"Would you stop talking about your...I am…this is a red-flag conversation!"
"Ha! Your life is a red-flag conversation, Tony."
"I don't know what you're talking about! I never-"
"Ahem!" A flight attendant squawked in front of them.
Tony and Ziva looked up, startled.
"As I have said five times, we are beginning our descent to Paris," she told them sternly. "Please return your chair to its upright position."
Wordlessly, Tony and Ziva straightened their chairs.
"Thank you," she huffed, stomping back down the aisle.
Tony and Ziva saw Frank and June grinning at them.
"Oh, yes," Frank said sagely. "Paris will do the pair of you a lot of good."
"Excellent pharmaceuticals too," June added, winked.
Tony and Ziva smiled uncomfortably at them and looked out the window. Within a few minutes, Ziva was pointing out several landmarks to Tony.
When the plane had landed and passengers were filing into the aisle, Ziva felt Tony's hand on her lower back.
"Ready, my sleepy ninja?"
"Après vous, Tony."