Disclaimer: Still not mine.
That Thursday afternoon, Tony was the one feeling anxious. The case they'd started working on Friday had gone cold, Gibbs was in a foul mood that he seemed to aim solely at Tony, and Tony was starting to think he was developing bleeding on the brain from all the head slaps. It would explain why he could not, for the life of him, work out where their missing petty officer had gone. It gave him only partial comfort that no one else could work it out either.
He and Gibbs were pushing each other, sniping and taking passive-aggressiveness to Olympic levels until finally, Gibbs snapped.
"Get out of here, DiNozzo!" he boomed after Tony made a 'joke' about their loner petty officer being in a basement somewhere with a boat and some whisky. "Go home, calm down, clear your head, and get your ass back here tomorrow with the answer to this fucking case!"
Tony opened his mouth, intending to point out Gibbs' own lack of clarity on this one, but stopped when he saw the tight, warning shake of Ziva's head. He bit his tongue. Ziva was the only one being level headed about this case. Even McGee and Abby had gone loopy. So he heeded her warning and stood to collect his things.
As he slipped the file on Petty Officer Philips into his jacket, he looked around for witnesses. Gibbs was banging his fingers furiously on his keyboard, McGee was avoiding all eye contact with everyone, and Ziva…had totally sprung him.
She gave him a little headshake, but Tony knew she wouldn't say a word. In response, he gave her a completely over-the-top look of innocence and breezed off towards the elevator.
For the next two hours, Ziva and McGee endured slammed drawers, yelled phone calls and threatening mutterings. Then, when Gibbs stood over Tony's desk, flinging files in all directions, Ziva knew she was next in the firing line.
"David!" he barked. "Where the hell is DiNozzo's file on Philips?"
Ziva swallowed and held Gibbs' gaze. "I think Tony may have taken it with him."
Gibbs stalked over to her desk and leaned over her. "You think?"
"It's possible. You asked him to come up with an answer, yes?"
Gibbs glared at her, his face so close she could smell sawdust under the coffee. Ziva knew this was Gibbs' way of accusing her of taking Tony's side. She waited it out.
"Go get it," Gibbs told her. "Now."
Ziva nodded and reached for her bag. She didn't breathe again until the elevator doors closed.
Tony was still pissed when he answered the door, but much of the fight went out of him when he found Ziva's face looking back at him.
"Did he send you to rub me out?" Tony joked.
Ziva smiled and shut the door behind her as Tony returned to the living room. "If he had, you would not still be alive." She headed for his kitchen and opened the fridge. She hadn't had time for lunch yet, and she was starving.
"Oh, thanks!" he called out, pretending to be hurt. "You'd pick your boss over your partner."
Ziva sniffed something cheesy-looking in a container. She thought it had probably once been lasagne. Now she wasn't so sure. "Not necessarily," she called back, settling on a single bottle of water and heading for the living room. "It would depend on who would be most valuable to me."
Tony looked up at her and pointed to himself like it was completely obvious. Ziva took a sip of water to hide her smile.
"He's after the folder you dropped," she said.
"Lifted," Tony corrected. "He can't have it yet."
Ziva took the seat on the couch next to him and looked at the open file on the coffee table. "You're supposed to be taking a break this afternoon," she pointed out.
"But I know I'm close," Tony sighed. "I've got to crack this thing. It's making us all crazy."
"I am fine," she pointed out.
He shot her a sideways glance. "Don't think I haven't noticed. It's starting to creep me out."
Ziva shrugged. Not much she could do about that. "Tony, you're going to burn up if you don't rest," she pushed.
"Burn out," he corrected again. "I know. But the answer is right here." He stabbed at the open file.
Ziva had enough. Quickly, she moved so that she was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, right on top of the file. "And now it's under my ass."
Tony blinked at her, expressionless. "Mature," he deadpanned.
Ziva forced a cheesy smile and pinched his cheek. "We can't all be as grown up as you, Tony."
He had to laugh. "Ziva, if you think putting your ass in the way of something I want to look at will be a deterrent, you don't know me very well."
An idea formed and she took off her jacket so that she was just in a wide-necked black t-shirt. "Will you give me five minutes?" she asked.
"Sure," he answered automatically. "What for?"
She didn't answer him exactly. "Five minutes of your time uninterrupted by work."
Tony dropped his pen on the coffee table in defeat, then flopped back against the couch and laced his fingers behind his head. "Okay. How's your day been?" he asked, passive-aggressive again.
Her eyes met his after a quick journey over his body. He was still dressed in the crisp white shirt and grey pants he'd worn that morning, but he'd lost the jacket and tie, and had untucked the shirt.
"I've had better," she told him. "But I don't want to talk about me. Or Gibbs. Or you."
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Nothing. Close your eyes."
He looked at her suspiciously. "Promise you're not going to rub me out?"
She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the comment. "I just want to help you out, Tony."
Something pinged in his head, and he raised an eyebrow at her. Did she mean what he thought she meant? She laid her hands on his knees and leaned towards him.
"Relax," she said, adopting the huskier tone she always used when they were flirting. "Close your eyes."
Tony blew out a disbelieving laugh. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about this before. "Well, why didn't you just say so?" he asked, then did as he was told.
Ziva shuffled up to the edge of the table so that one of her thighs was between his, and one of his was between hers. Then, she leaned forward to run her hands up his thighs and over his hips to the hem of his shirt. When she pushed it up to expose the skin of his stomach, Tony's eyes slowly opened to watch her. He had no doubt he'd enjoy this with his eyes closed, but honestly he'd rather watch her face.
She looked up and caught him, and gave him a warning look. But Tony shook his head in response.
"I'm visual, Ziva," he stated.
She sighed and let him have his way. After all, this was about him.
By the time she ran her hands over him, Tony was already hardening. Ziva smiled up at him, pleased by his response.
"See?" he said, his voice getting heavier. "If I'd kept my eyes closed I would have missed that look."
She squeezed him and he sucked in a breath. "You like to watch me, yes?"
"Yes," he confirmed.
She smiled again as both her hands worked on him through the material of his pants. "Okay. Watch me." She said it as if issuing a challenge. He didn't know whether he should be worried, but right now it seemed like the easiest request he'd ever had to grant.
Ziva unzipped his pants and spread them open, then slid her hand inside his boxers to pull him free. Tony gasped and grabbed her outer knee at the skin-to-skin contact, and Ziva clenched and felt herself grow heavy at the sight and feel of him. He definitely met her approval, and she allowed herself to fast-forward to the time when she'd feel herself stretch to take him in. Back in the present, she gave him a pleased smile. But the self-confident smirk she expected to find was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was giving her that same intense stare he had when she was teetering on the edge on Saturday. Like his whole world at that moment consisted of her. At least she'd gotten his mind off work.
She started playing with him as she liked, learning his favourite moves by the tilt of his hips and his cries. Stroking, pumping, hard, slow, fast, soft, both hands, corkscrew. Every time he seemed to get used to something, she deliberately changed the routine. And Tony loved it. He hadn't been touched like this in he couldn't even remember how long, and Ziva seemed attuned to what he wanted. Thanks for sending me home early, Gibbs.
Tony's hand stroked up and down the outside of her knee and thigh, but he couldn't reach her other leg in this position. His arm would get in the way of what she was doing, and he did not want that to happen. He badly wanted his hands on her, though. Just like in the shower stall, he could smell her strongly, and his lust-scattered mind told him that in order to keep smelling her, he had to hold on to her properly.
He lifted his eyes from her hands around his cock to see her looking down at him, biting her lip in concentration. For whatever reason, he found the look explosively hot, and he let out a growl. Ziva raised her eyes to meet his and gave him a slow smile that he knew he would replay in his head, over and over until the end of his days. An intense, almost painful stab of pleasure hit him, and he grabbed at her knee.
"Come closer. Please?" he begged, his voice strained.
Removing her hands for just a second, Ziva stood, braced her hands on his shoulders as she moved both her legs to bracket his, and then sat down on his knees, leaving just enough room to get her hands on him. She pumped his shaft firmly as her other hand went lower to play with his balls.
"Jesus, Zi," he panted, then leaned forward to bury his face in her neck, drawing in the scent of her. His hands slid up the outside of her thighs, all the way up under her butt.
"Skirts, Ziva," he gritted out. "You gotta look into skirts."
She smiled against his neck and started kissing the skin there like he'd done on Saturday. The way he grunted and squeezed her ass gave her a pretty good indication that his neck was one of his more sensitive spots.
Tony opened his eyes again, and he got closer to the edge when he found that from his position he could see himself in her hands her breasts inside her t-shirt. His hands reached for the hem of her t-shirt before the thought was formed, but he managed to stop himself before he touched her.
Ziva saw the movement and smiled. She'd hate to deprive him of something he'd enjoy. Especially if she'd enjoy it too. "You can touch me, Tony," she told him.
Tony growled, lifted his head, and then lifted her top. Ziva raised her arms over her head in cooperation. She wasn't actually expecting him to strip her down, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. She'd always liked the way Tony watched her. And now it seemed that she quite liked exposing herself to him as well.
As she returned to the task at hand, Tony's hands went to her breasts, squeezing them through her bra and setting off sparks of pleasure in her. He kissed his way down her throat, and then pushed her back just enough so that he could run his lips along the flesh that peeked out from the top of her bra.
"Ziva," he whispered against her, then kissed his way back to her neck. "Ziva." His hands found her hair, and he took a bunch of it gently in his fist to turn her face to him. "Ziva," he said again, as his other hand burrowed inside the back of her pants. She realized he was holding her much as she'd gripped him. He wasn't letting go of her until he was done. She smiled for him and kissed his cheek.
Tony's breath started coming quicker, and she felt his fist starting to pull on her hair. He was close, she thought, so she focused on quick, hard strokes under his head.
"Zi!" he cried out, and moved his hand from her pants to grip her hip hard. Although his hips bucked, she felt he was holding back. That was not what Ziva had in mind.
"Tony," she moaned, injecting just enough desperation into her voice to let him know she wanted him to let go.
After another half dozen strokes and a well-placed nip to the soft skin under his ear, the pressure became too much and Tony spilled over her hands with a cry of her name. Ziva kept pumping him, getting every drop out of him before very slowly winding down. She held on to him until he lifted his head and released his grip on her hip, but not her hair. They locked eyes and she gave him a wink. Mission accomplished.
"Feel better?" she asked, mirroring his question from Saturday.
Just as Ziva had, Tony gave her one of his biggest smiles. "Much. Thank you."
Ziva returned the smile. "Well, I'm free any time to help you out."
Tony took his cue and moved in to kiss her. It was longer and deeper than their last kiss. Tony wanted more of her, and Ziva couldn't make herself pull back. But still it was relatively simple. Touch and part, touch and part.
Finally, Tony released his grip on her hair and they put more than three inches between them. Ziva gave him a final squeeze, making him jump, and then stood up.
"Be right back."
His eyes fell to the white spill on her hand. It turned him on, but he decided to go for apologetic. "Oh. Sorry."
"Don't apologise," Ziva recited.
Tony misunderstood. "Sometimes apologies are not a sign of weakness, Ziva."
She smirked. "I agree. But it's not necessary in this instance. It was the desired outcome, yes?"
She brushed a kiss against his forehead and headed for the bathroom, leaving Tony to bliss out on the couch.
When she returned two minutes later, Tony hadn't moved save to zip up. He looked relaxed and happy, and he didn't even raise an eyebrow when she picked up the file that had brought her there.
"I should get back before Gibbs sends McGee out after me," she said.
Tony nodded, and slowly got to his feet. He grabbed her t-shirt off the table and handed it to her. "Thanks for stopping by."
"Always a pleasure," she replied, slipping the shirt over her head. She picked up her jacket and Tony walked her to the door.
"See you tomorrow?"
Tony nodded. "I'll be there, on my best behaviour, and with the answer that's going to crack this case open."
Ziva opened the door. "That's the spirit," she said, then headed off down the hallway. Tony watched her ass as she went, and shook his head at the change a week could make.
When did I get so lucky?
Okay, are we all feeling better now? I hope a little bit. Now I've got that out of my system it's back to something with a plot.