note: I don't really have an excuse for this being late. This is the one chapter that had no plan and was completely unprepared, and most of it was written earlier this evening (it's about midnight now), so I just had no idea what to do. The boredom of my day today chucked some ideas at me, and here I am. I was a bit worried this chapter seemed too rushed, but I took a break and had some food, and I'm posting it anyway.
I may get another update done before the premiere (*flails*), since the next chapter's all already written, but we'll just have to see. Thanks again for all the reviews, I wish I could thank you all more. But rest assured I reply to everyone and send mental hugs to all Anons. Thank you, guys.
disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you decide Italian club won't be that bad- after all, Tony turned out fine.
listening to: The Night Will Always Win, by Elbow. (I'm completely in love with them right now.)
Day 4
He blows air out of his cheeks after what he's roughly calculated to be fifteen minutes is over, standing from the bed with a satisfied stretch. He can no longer hear water running from the room next to him, too, which he takes as another good sign, and so opens the door with a large yawn. After all, he doubts his partner can still be showering after this long, and he really needs to pee.
The sight that confronts him is not that which he expected, though he supposes he could perhaps have foreseen this as a possibility. Ziva may be facing the wall, but he's granted full view of the back of her, and before he knows it, his gaze is raking all over her, taking in legs that he's sure don't stop, the vast expanse of her rather chiselled back, and other... redeeming qualities. Then, she pulls a fluffy-looking towel up and round her, and his sight is suddenly restricted, leaving him only able to appreciate her shoulders and the- admittedly tantalizing- curve of her neck.
"Good morning. I see you are awake," She says, turning round to face him, and he brings his gaze up to meet her eyes. "Sadly I am already clean, so I don't think I will join you in the shower this morning."
He chuckles as she walks past him, her hips swinging as she sends him a playful wink, but his smile quickly falls as she closes the door behind her. He knows that by the end of this mission, he will have been in that shower with her at least once, or else.
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After their breakfast still hasn't arrived, forty-five minutes after he'd hung up on their waiter, he heads downstairs to see what's happening. He's skipped the wait for the elevator and is heading down the staircase when he realizes his lips are still tingling from the brief kiss he'd exchanged with Ziva before walking out the door. His mind immediately flits back to their kiss in the pool last night, and suddenly all he can feel are Ziva's hands, running all over his skin; the way her fingers tangled in his hair as she directed her lips back to his; the way her-
A hearty laugh snaps him out of his vague reverie, and he looks down at the lobby, just appearing before his eyes, seeing an older couple walking arm-in-arm. They're standing by the elevator and he nods in their direction before making his way to the reception desk.
A dark-haired man he does not recognize mans the main desk, scrawling a note on a piece of paper and humming tunelessly.
Tony clears his own throat loudly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't see you there."
"S'okay... Adam. I was just wondering where my breakfast's got to- I ordered it, like, an hour ago and my wife and I are getting hungry."
"I'll look into it, Sir, what room are you staying in?"
A few moments later, and Adam's got a page up on his screen.
"If you'll excuse me, Mr DiNozzo, I'll go into the kitchens and find Sam for you."
Tony smiles before sitting himself in a comfy-looking couch and pulling out his cell phone.
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A ringing sound startles him before he exits his game of Tetris and answers the call.
"Hey."
"Where are you? I was getting worried."
"Relax, honey, I'm still downstairs. I asked about breakfast and this other guy went to find Sam, but it's been five minutes and he still hasn't come back. I'm starting to think there's some kinda black hole in the kitchen."
"Oh that is not very likely. But I hope Sam is okay."
He scoffs rather bitterly.
"Sure, worry about our waiter rather than your husband."
"I was worried about you, too."
Her voice is soft and it startles him slightly.
"You okay?" he asks, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.
"I am fine... It is just quite lonely up here, all alone."
He smiles happily even though he knows she can't see it, and is about to reply when he sees both Sam and Adam walking in his direction, each carrying large trays with many cloche-covered plates.
"I gotta go, honey, breakfast's here. See you soon, I love you."
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Both waiters have placed the trays down on the large table sitting in their hotel room, apologized and said that the partners will most definitely be reimbursed, and left, before Tony realizes his words. His gaze leaves Ziva's immediately and he focuses instead on his hands, fingers twisting his wedding band round and round until it's shifted somewhat and he can see the strengthening tan line decorating his skin.
"This looks great." She says suddenly, and he looks up to see her leaning over the table, pulling various silver covers off and looking greedily at the cooked and baked delights sitting before their eyes.
He smiles at just how impossible she is, before choosing some food of his own anyway and tucking in.
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Many hours and yet more room service later, they venture downstairs and sit on the beach, watching the sunset.
The light tangles itself up in Ziva's mussed-up hair, adding itself to the growing collection of salt and sand. Her knees are drawn up against her chest, but he figures it's only fair- all she's wearing is a bikini and a thin sweater of sorts. He watches, mesmerized, as she traces nonsensical patterns in the ground with her finger, dirt gathering beneath her nail in a wonderfully childlike way. Part of him wonders if she ever had this freedom as a child.
He mirrors her position somewhat, pulling his knees up, but folds his arms and rests his elbows on his legs, eyes trained on the lazy sea before them. The breeze is whipping through his hair, but it's soft and warm rather than harsh or cold, and he closes his eyes briefly as the burnt orange sun glows with an air of finality.
He's never experienced perfection before, he doesn't think, but he's getting pretty close to it now.
Ziva laughs at something he says- he's been rambling on about something or other for a good five minutes now-, and he opens his eyes to see her head thrown back in happiness. The amber-tainted air adds some new, mystifying quality to her, and though he cannot name it, he thinks he likes it very much.
Automatically going to defend whatever it is he's said, he opens his mouth but is promptly stopped by Ziva's lips crushing his, so impossibly gently. The embrace is finished as quickly as it began.
She looks down, face still fairly near to his, seeming particularly shy as she murmurs an apology. He reaches out and tells her No, then kisses her once more, pulling her down onto the sand. He follows and they end up both lying on their sides. This is not a gesture of lust, it is far more.
When he pulls back and she opens her eyes to look at him, sand lingers on her cheek and a few grains tip her eyelashes. He knows this really is perfection.
She clears her throat, her gaze flicking up as she looks into his eyes, and he briefly wonders if she remembers at all his accidental words from earlier.
"I love you too."
It seems she has.
New chapter, or a cookie? Or both, maybe?