note: This is my definition of 'soon', haha. But it's not bad, for me- I've been known to take nearly a month to update other things before. :D Anyway this is just another chapter for you all. I'd also like to say thank you for all the reviews I got for the last chapter, I was shocked by how many there were. XD Thank you, everyone, I'm hugging you all in my mind right now.
Ah, yeah. I know the past two chapters and this one have all been quite early on day-wise (Day 3, Day 5, Day 2), it's just I'm switching perspectives and it ended up being one-sided, so that's the reasoning.
disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you listen to the Housekeeping commentary and practically faint.
listening to: Always Like This, by Bombay Bicycle Club.
Day 2
The air is hot when she wakes, clinging to the sheets and pulling her skin from the bed. Her hand runs up the length of her arm out of habit, but it is all too warm and feels too heavy, and she recoils immediately. She's not entirely sure where she is or who is sleeping beside her, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight to just try and recall something- anything.
And then, suddenly, it all comes rushing back to her, and she jolts violently because she knows they both hoped it wouldn't happen like this. Taking a shuddering breath of humid air, she stands and tries not to look at the dozing figure lying beneath the covers.
Clothes are strewn all over the floor in a messy, love-drunk way, but only the two of them know it is false. She winces at the sight. Tony, it seems, is not as perturbed by their untrue actions as she herself is, and continues to snuffle softly in his sleep.
A rush of air hits her suddenly and she realizes that standing around in their hotel room is doing nothing to aid her- and at 3:30 in the morning she can hardly do anything else to clear her thoughts-, so instead, she heads to the bathroom. Unhooking the robe from the door, she turns to leave but catches sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her general appearance is the same as always, but her lips are swollen and there is a faint mark curving over her collarbone. Shaking merely at such thoughts, she stumbles back to bed.
Tony's breathing is still even when she settles back on the bed, but he's sprawled out awkwardly now, covering up most of the space and leaving her absolutely no room to climb back in under the covers. At least, she tells herself there's no room. Instead, she sits on the edge of the King; feet tucked under as she elects to wait until her partner moves once more.
She knows she should not allow this to cloud her judgment; they're undercover, after all, and once upon a time this was a regular day's work for her. They've done this before, too, even if it was a lifetime ago; it shouldn't be any different.
But of course, it is. Now, there's history and death and arguments weaving between their lives and it is in no way as black and white as it once was. As the two of them once were.
Reality comes tumbling back as Tony rolls over, dragging half the bed's worth of sheets with him in the process. He murmurs something incoherent before pressing his head down into the pillow, and making a noise that Ziva thinks is a sneeze.
She bites her lip in an attempt not to laugh, but it isn't successful and a strangled sound escapes her lips. She freezes.
"Ziva?" comes the barely-audible whisper.
She jerks her head up and sees Tony, eyes wide, staring at the empty side of the bed. She winces and curses internally.
"Yes?"
Something akin to relief flashes over her partner's face for only a split second before his eyes flit shut again and he sighs tiredly.
"Come back to bed."
She hesitates momentarily, but he adds a hushed 'please' on, and she stands once more. Dropping the robe to the floor after checking that Tony's eyes are definitely closed, she slides back beneath the sheets and rolls onto her side.
His hand finds hers minutes later, and she smiles to herself unwillingly as he pulls her closer, his arm moving round to settle on her waist. It may be a habit of his, or something else entirely, but in the end she's too tired and too warm to worry about anything.
000000
"Hey buddy, I said could you pass me the butter." she hears Tony say, and she looks up from her breakfast to see her partner leaning over a neighboring table, talking to a man Ziva recognizes very well, after investigating him for however long it's been now.
Lieutenant Simon Bradey is not the most handsome of men. He's beady-eyed and scrawny, and an ugly scar trails his left cheek. A large, distasteful tattoo decorated the back of his neck, rising up to disappear into his hair. He once had a buzz cut, and Ziva knows this from his identification card, but now a bird's nest of hair sits atop his head and is accompanied by a straggly shadow on his chin.
He is the kind of man Ziva- or, she thinks, mainly every other woman in the world- would avoid unless strictly necessary.
She watches as Bradey rather begrudgingly hands over a butter dish and immediately sinks back into his chair, eyes landing back on the magazine he's been staring at for a half hour now. Tony grins at her as he returns, and she smiles in return, a question on the tip of her tongue.
"You do realize," she tells him once he has sat back down again, "that you do not actually need butter?"
His triumphant grin falls as he looks to his plate of eggs, bacon, and something unidentifiable; definitely no butterable items.
She's still debating the legitimacy of 'butterable' as a word five minutes later, when Tony places the butter dish on her empty plate, continuing their earlier conversation by retorting
"But you do, sweetheart."
She rolls her eyes and stands up to get some bread.
000000
He finally asks the question she knows he's been dying to ask all day, when they're standing on the beach late that evening. The sea occasionally creeps up and slips beneath their toes, but really, they're just there to watch. And get away from it all.
Her hand is in Tony's, and his thumb brushes her skin every now and then. He's standing close to her and she can feel slight warmth radiating from him.
The sun is still hot but does not beat down on them, in fact it retreats closer to the horizon increasingly quickly the longer they stand outside.
"Why weren't you in bed last night?"
It sounds like the kind of question a suspicious lover may ask, and judging by the way Tony's hand tenses around hers, he's realized that too.
"I…" she starts, but she's not sure how to word it, and her mouth's gone dry, and all she can think is that Bradey is in the hotel, only a few feet away. It'd be a shame to mess up their mission so early on. "I… I do not want to do this here. Can't this wait?"
Her eyes are still trained on the sea, refusing to meet his gaze, and her heart falls when his hand slips from hers.
However, his lips soon press against her forehead, and his fingers slip beneath her shirt to grasp the edges. He pulls the fabric over her head to leave the bikini she had noticed he'd been so enamored with that morning. Her shorts soon follow suit of her shirt and fall to the sand, and he only slips off his own t-shirt before grasping her hand and pulling her to the ocean with him, just like the day before.
Confused, she doesn't fight his actions, merely follows him to the sea.
By the time Tony stops, she can't feel the ground beneath her feet and he's submerged to just below the top of his neck.
"Put your arms round me."
She does as asked, and loops her arms round his neck. His hands find her hips and he pulls her closer, and her legs somehow hook round his waist. Were she not so dazed about the situation, she probably would have blushed.
"Ziva, what's wrong?"
She tears her eyes from his and focuses on his water-obscured shoulder instead.
"Really, it's… nothing."
"You're a terrible liar, you know that, right?"
She looks back at him, about to exclaim otherwise, but he raises a finger and places it over her lips, and she stops attempting to talk. A drop of salty water drips from his hand and eases over her lips, and it bites at her skin. He moves his hand and her tongue flicks out to wipe away the lingering rivulet before she speaks.
"I was… thinking. But now, I know that I was just being stupid, and irrational. I have… realized, that it will be okay."
Something shifts in his eyes and she thinks that maybe he does understand, anyway.
He smiles at her, then tightens his hold on her hips as he presses a chaste kiss to her lips.
"C'mon, let's go inside. I'm getting cold, and you, my dear, are shivering."
She knows that she is, but something tells her it's not to do with the cold.
Ooh that last bit ended up sounding overly suspenseful.
So… it'd be nice if you could review. I have both cookies and new chapters this time. :D
-Kiera.
