A/N: An FYI to make sure we're all on the same page: The site was being wonky yesterday with Chapter 6 appearing and disappearing so you might want to check to make sure you've read that. Thanks to everyone who is reading and a double scoop of gratitude to those who are leaving reviews. This one ain't easy, kids, and it's extremely helpful to know what my readers are thinking! Another big thank you (with sprinkles on top) to the massively talented Detour—this thing is immeasurably better because of your efforts.
Tony tried to relax and blend in with the players and their families, but he couldn't get Ziva's words out of his head. He honestly couldn't remember a time when she had actually sounded frightened. Even in that freezing shipping container way back when, she had been angry, annoyed, playful even, at times.
But never afraid.
The agent watched his partner as she laughed at one of the DC player's jokes, and he realized she was doing a better job fitting in than he was. Tony slouched against the bar, sipping ginger ale from a rocks glass, and he scanned the bar for Stone, hoping the man wouldn't show so they could head back to the house. The agent side of him knew they should stay as long as possible even if Stone didn't show to canvass for other possible suspects. The very human side of him that was tired and in pain just wanted to go lie down and sleep.
The agent side won and Tony forgot all about his aching back as Dustin Stone entered the bar and pulled off his dark sunglasses. His eyes landed immediately on Ziva, and Tony couldn't help thinking they had their killer.
Tony felt a blade of panic stab him straight in the chest as Stone pocketed the sunglasses and walked purposely through the crowded bar—straight toward Ziva. DiNozzo moved quickly, circumventing the small social circles and ending up at his partner's elbow just as Stone brushed past and addressed a group behind them.
"Hey, buddy!" Stone said, high-fiving one of the DC players. "It's me, Dustin. I played with you guys down in Savannah two years ago. How's it going?"
Ziva looked up at Tony in annoyance at his sudden appearance, but then the ire was quickly erased from her gaze. "Sweetie! You scared me."
Tony leaned down and pecked her on the cheek. "Sorry, babe." He nodded to the men Ziva was talking to and smiled. "Hell of a match today, guys."
They spoke for a few minutes about the game, and Tony told a couple of stories about when he had played in college. Ziva found herself unable to tell if he was making it up—and thoroughly unnerved by that fact. She half-listened to the men's recollections as she also tried to hear Stone's conversation. She noticed the friend he had first talked to had moved on to mingle with another group, and Stone was suddenly walking back toward them.
Tony saw it, too, and smoothly passed Ziva the drink she held her hand out to take. Their eyes met and Tony was already moving closer as Ziva pretended to fumble the mostly empty glass. They timed it perfectly so that when Tony knocked slightly into Ziva to grab the falling drink, he pushed her directly into Stone's path.
"Oh!" Ziva exclaimed, turning and putting a hand on Stone's arm—and watching his eyes go wide for a split-second before he smiled politely. "I am so sorry!"
"No worries," Stone said casually, but he was still looking down at the hand Ziva had yet to move from his arm. He slid out of her grasp and met her eyes. "I should be more careful."
The tone was friendly enough, but Ziva and Tony exchanged a meaningful glance. Their company didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary about the encounter, and Tony asked, "That guy looked familiar. Do you know him?"
One Marine, the shorter of the two, shook his head but the other spoke up. "I don't know his name but he works on base somewhere. He comes to all the home games but when I asked if he wanted to play, he said no. Didn't give a reason so I just let it go."
Ziva smiled. "I do not see how anyone could pass this up. I have had a wonderful time today."
The shorter Marine grinned back at her. "We're glad you could make it. Always good to see new faces." He turned to Tony. "Danielle said you used to play. Want to join us on the field?"
Tony pulled a face. "I don't think you want my old ass out there embarrassing myself—and the green and gold."
"Come on," the taller man said, "you'd make a hell of a second row with your height."
Ziva felt a flicker of unease, hoping Tony wouldn't contradict what she had told Danielle out of his hearing. She kicked herself for not filling her partner in on that detail while they had been alone in the car. It was a mistake she wasn't sued to making. She spoke before Tony could open his mouth. "Sweetie, I would rather you did not play. I am not sure all that violence would be good for your back."
Tony blinked at her for a second before turning his palms up and giving the Marines a sad smile. "Sorry, guys. You heard the lady."
The taller Marine laughed. "Smart man, Tony. Smart man."
Ziva almost sighed in relief and spoke again to change the subject. "Speaking of violence," she said, looking around the bar at the various groups talking, eating and drinking. "I thought you said rugby crowds were loud and raucous? This seems pretty tame to me."
The Marines exchanged a mischievous glance between themselves and then the shorter one winked at Tony. "Let's show this girl what we're made of!"
The taller of the two turned suddenly and raised his voice, his friend joining in a second later as he called out, "We call upon DC to sing us a song! To sing us a song! To sing us a song! We call upon DC to sing us a song…"
Tony blanched as the two Marines waded into the suddenly attentive crowd, realizing what was about to happen. He grabbed Ziva by the arm and led her out the door even as she started to protest. She dug her heels in at the door just as one DC player was about to start singing a well-known rugby song. The songs were all in good fun, with players singing individual verses while the rest of the crowd joined in during the choruses, but they were also laced with sexual innuendo and could be downright raunchy.
Knowing the players had chosen to start off with one of the more explicit ones, Tony didn't think Ziva needed to hear this particular song. But she wasn't budging, her eyes shooting sparks as she questioned him silently.
So Tony did the only thing he could think of.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, covering her mouth and reaching up to cup her face. He nudged her toward the door and wasn't sure if he felt relieved or sickened that she forgot all about the song and let him push her gently against one of the brick columns outside the bar.
He felt her slim arms wrap around his waist as she pressed up against him, rising on her toes to meet his mouth. He started to pull away, fully prepared to get slapped, but she stopped him, clinging to his body and whispering into his ear while pretending to be sucking at his throat.
"Do not stop," she breathed. "Stone is staring straight at us from inside."
Tony remembered that the floor to ceiling windows provided a perfect view of them to the entire bar, and he hoped Ziva would think that was why he chose to bring her out here and put on this show. And then he forgot about the whole world when his partner pressed her soft lips to his again, her tongue sliding into his mouth as if it belonged there. She bit his lip slightly, the sharp sting bringing him back to his senses—not because it really hurt, but because he remembered her visceral reaction to tasting his blood the night before.
He reached up and took her face in his hands, trying not to wince at the outright lust in her eyes. He was suddenly extremely glad they were standing practically in a parking lot because he knew she would have hopped up, wrapped her legs around his waist and fucked him right against the column otherwise.
Even worse, he wasn't sure he could have stopped her.
He watched her shake herself like a wet puppy and take several deep breaths. "We should go now," she said slowly.
Tony turned quickly toward the car. "Yep."
Tony had beaten Ziva to the driver's seat by a second, and he was glad as he drove back toward base that he could just drive and let his mind wander instead of being relegated to the passenger seat—and his possible demise. He was mostly trying not to think about his own body's reaction to Ziva's pressing hard against him.
He was also marveling over the fact that Ziva had accepted his explanation about the songs without question—or anger. She had almost seemed pleased that he had been looking out for her, and he tried not to think about the hurt in her eyes when he had brought up Gibbs' trying to protect him. He had really been expecting her to be angry and to rail at him for his chauvinism.
It made him wonder if they still okay to do this job together. They needed to be able to anticipate each other, and Tony wasn't sure he could keep juggling Ziva's mercurial moods. But then he thought about their ease in orchestrating the "accident" with the drink in the bar, all done without a single word spoken between them.
Tony's runaway thoughts almost stopped him from noticing the man crouched in the bushes outside their temporary home on base as he pulled into the driveway.
Almost.
And he looked over to find Ziva's eyes on the same target before they swung over to meet his.
"Stay in the car," Tony ordered, watching the anger he had expected earlier flash through her dark eyes. "You're not armed. I am."
That was something they had discussed at length with Gibbs and McGee while setting up the mission. It flowed with Tony's cover as an MP to be carrying at all times, but they had decided it didn't make sense for Ziva, who was playing housewife, to be armed, as well. Tony shoved aside the same anger he had felt their first night in the house when he had watched Ziva unstrap the knife from ankle as she took off her loose, flowing pants to get ready for bed.
"Thought we decided you weren't carrying," Tony had said, his eyes on the knife and not on her long, bare legs.
Ziva had just lifted an infuriatingly disinterested shoulder at him. "You decided for me. I never agreed."
Tony slid from the car and hoped like hell Ziva would stay put even though this didn't fit their killer's MO, which was to strike at nighttime. As the agent pulled his gun from the discreet ankle holster, he recognized the man as their neighbor.
The man stood suddenly, looking at Tony's drawn gun and squeaking in surprise. His hands came up immediately, and Tony said firmly, "Don't move."
Their neighbor nodded slowly, as if he were afraid too vigorous a movement would prompt Tony to shoot him. He glanced at the flier in his left hand. "I was trying to leave this for you. It flew out of my hand. I'm sorry. It's an invitation for the block party on Friday."
Tony listened to the choppy sentences and wasn't quite sure if he believed the guy. Their killer was a pro who didn't leave evidence so it was likely he would have an excuse—and props—prepared for an emergency.
Ziva spoke from beside him and Tony almost screamed at her, both for her gentle hand pointing his gun toward the ground and for disobeying his order.
But now was not the time to remind her that he was senior.
So he smiled and slid the gun back into the holster. "I'm sorry about that," he said, faking a chuckle and moving toward the man. "Hell of a way to meet your new neighbor, huh?"
"I'm Sam Houser," the man said, stepping out of the bushes and shaking hands with the couple. "I've been traveling for the past few days, but it's nice to meet you."
"Tony Newsome," the agent said, and then nodded at Ziva, watching Houser's reaction closely. It didn't escape his attention that no murders had occurred while Houser had been gone. "And this is my lovely wife, Ziva."
Houser just smiled, still a bit shakily, which could easily have been a cover, Tony thought. "That's a lovely name."
"I am Iraqi," Ziva said boldly, also watching their neighbor closely.
Houser cocked his head. "A Hebrew name for an Iraqi woman. Interesting."
Ziva felt a little shiver go down her spine at that, but she just smiled and said cryptically, "My family is very complicated."
Houser broke into a bright grin. "Aren't they all?" He shook his head. "Well, don't mind me. I'll just leave this with you and let you be on your way."
He handed them the flier and waved as he made his way back to his own house. "Hope to see you there!"
They walked into the house to a ringing phone and exchanged an uneasy glance.
Tony picked it up and answered, grinning with a relief he couldn't quite explain when Abby's bubbly voice came over the line.
"Tony! It's your favorite cousin Mina! And guess what? I'm coming over tonight."
Tony stifled a laugh at the fake name and wondered what was going on. He felt his heart skip a beat as the thought occurred to him that Abby might be going behind Gibbs' back to see them.
"Uncle G is cool with it, too," Abby said as if in anticipation of the question she knew he couldn't ask over the unsecure line. "Be there at 7, k?"
"I'll even make you dinner, Mina," he said, still trying not to laugh. And still trying to figure out what was going on. If Gibbs needed to contact them, there were procedures in place to make that happen. Abby hadn't liked it, but her role had been over once she had made their IDs and gotten their covers together. Gibbs had even vetoed her coming to the listening post house at night.
Tony shrugged off his growing unease and turned to Ziva. "We're having company tonight, Babe."
