Uh, hey :)
Again, I'm terribly sorry for not updating as promised, but the last week of school turned out to be more eventful than I'd originally thought it would be. Good for me, kinda really bad for you.

To make matters worse I had even less internet access in Finland than expected...so updating was unthinkable. Writing, too, was a matter of patience, as I didn't have my beloved keyboard, but had to write the whole thing on my mum's iPad. Meaning I had limited access to my most important instrument..and autocorrect was driving me insane. I actually felt like throwing the stupid thing straight out the window.

That explained, here's the next chapter and this time I can really promise you that the next ones are to follow up soon (yes, I already started writing, even though I barely arrived back home a couple of hours ago)
For the next 6 weeks I will spend my past-time writing. Wohoo! :D

Disclaimer: "I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow in the knee."
(See, I don't even own my disclaimer (which is hereby disclaimed), so what makes you think I own NCIS?)

Chapter 11 - Ziva's Apartment

Pt. I

He's been sitting in his car for over an hour, or that's what it feels like to him, when he finally decides to get out and do something productive, like asking Ziva about her behavior earlier that day when they were supposed to have lunch. Why did he always manage to completely screw things up with the girls he actually really liked - in this case a lot - when things were just so easy with one-night-stands. Well, because, 'No strings attached, no heart at risk', that's why. But he has to admit to himself that he will fight for his Israeli warrior princess, no matter at what cost, because he's never before met a more intimidating, frustrating, gorgeous, ninja-like person before, ever. And he is not going to lose her, no sir.

With a sigh he pushes the car door open and gets out, before slowly walking towards the building, taking more time than necessary to make sure the car is locked. He has memorized the street, the address and about seven different ways to get to the apartment as soon as Ziva's told him where she lived, but suddenly he doubts if he's in the right place and thinks that maybe it would be better if he called her and sort of gave her a hint that he was coming over. Of course all that is just an excuse to waste time and he knows it.

"Man up, DiNozzo," he murmurs to himself before finally entering the apartment building with the key she's given him for emergencies - he believes that this might just be one, judging by her sudden change of behavior earlier - and heading up to the third floor, taking the stairs but always two steps at a time. He's not surprised when he's at her door and doesn't find her name on the little sign. Taking a deep breath, he gathers all his courage together, again wondering why the hell he is so damn nervous, and knocks softly. No reaction. He knocks again, waits for a moment and then almost turns to leave when he hears the quiet tapping of feet inside. Just as he wants to again use his key, the door is suddenly yanked open and he has a gun pointed right at his face.

"Whoa there, Ziva!" he yells in surprise, holding his hands up as if in surrender, "I don't know the customs in your country, but here, when someone comes to visit, you just say 'Hi', you know?"
She lowers her weapon and secures it.

"I thought you were someone else," she hisses, before grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him inside her apartment, throwing the door shut behind her and locking it twice.

"And who exactly have you been expecting?" he asks, standing in the center of the small living room, looking around. Somehow it's just as he's imagined it; Plain white walls, no pictures, a lonely plant in the corner by the window. No TV, which shocks him, but isn't a surprise as he sees the far side of the room is crowded with bookshelves, containing literature in at least six languages.
When he turns back to her she's sitting on the ground by her door, her knees pulled up and her face hidden by her arms. The gun is still in her hand. He immediately rushes to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, what's wrong, Ninja?" He nudges her softly, trying to get her to look at him. "You're not scared, are you?"
She sniffs once, which alarms him even more than anything else. The Ziva he's come to know doesn't cry, not when shot, not when held captive, not in public and not alone, basically not ever, so something has to be more than wrong.
"Ziva..." he says softly, but she just raises her head, turning her face away from him, and wipes her eyes with her sleeve once before getting up and pacing the room. He gets up as well, but remains at the door, watching her every movement.

"What are you doing here, Tony?" she finally asks after seemingly an eternity of silence.

He shrugs, "Visiting a friend."

She stops and sighs, closing her eyes briefly, and turns to him. Her eyes are cold and she looks like she hasn't slept in at least a week. How come he hasn't noticed how exhausted she looked at work?
"Why are you here?" she rephrases her question, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know, that's actually a funny story," he laughs once, but it sounds too nervous to come even close to convincing, "I was just driving nearby and then I thought-"

"Tony!" she interrupts him and the glare she sends him leaves no room for any argument, so he sighs and steps closer to her.

"I came to check up on you," - she snorts disapprovingly at that, but he continues - "because I'm really worried about what you said today."

"I knew it," she says, frustratedly throwing her arms up, before dropping down onto the couch, "I knew I should not have said anything."

He hesitantly crouches down next to her. "No, Ziva, I'm your partner, I need to know what's going on. Just...tell me what is going on exactlythat has you opening the door with a gun in your hand."

For a second her eyes soften while she listens, but then her expression becomes again unreadable to him and she turns away. "Kate is your partner," she states somewhat bitterly.
He lifts a hand to reach out for her, but changes his mind, figuring that touching her now might be counterproductive. Instead he gets up, giving her some more space.
"That's right to a certain degree," he starts cautiously, gauging her reaction. She merely blinks, so he continues, "But right now Kate's in another team and you definitely look like you need my help."

"I do not need help!" she suddenly yells, jumping up, "Not from you, not from anyone!"
He's dumbstruck by her strong reaction and just watches her again for a couple of minutes. There seems to be an inner fight going on in her and he thinks that the secretive Ziva-David-doesn't-need-friends part might just be winning when she faces him again, but then she finally drops her shoulders in defeat and puts the gun in its holster on her him
"I am sorry, Tony. You are only trying to help and I really appreciate that, but I cannot tell you anything. It is classified information to know and might endanger my family and other people I...care about," her eyes are burning into his now and he can't possibly look away.

"But you said you would tell me if anything happened," he says softly.

"Things have changed," she sighs tiredly and finally does look away, adding, "You better leave now," with a slightly shaky voice while turning away again.

"No," his voice is more confident than he thought it would be and that pleases him. She stops in her movement and turns around.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, but I won't leave here until you give me one good reason to."
He stubbornly drops onto the couch and kicks off his shoes.

"I told you to leave, that is the best reason," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"Nu-uh, not good enough," he says with a grin. His eyes widen when he sees her hand twitch towards her gun for a second, but she just rolls her eyes.

"Fine," she says, "You can stay..." He beams at her, but before he can say something she raises her hand to shut him up. "...Under one condition."

"I'm all ears…" he says hesitantly, not able to hide the skeptical edge in his voice.

She smiles. "You have to help me cook."
Now that's not a problem for him at all - as long as he also gets to eat, that is. But for now he's perfectly content with following her into the kitchen and taking her orders.

...

"This was delicious, Ziva," he says for probably the tenth time while he carries their empty plates back to put them into the dishwasher. He's never eaten typical Israeli food before and he has to admit that it almost tops his all-time favorite, Italian. Almost.

When he returns to the living room she's sitting on the couch, her feet covered by a fluffy red blanket, and when she sees him she shifts in order to give him some space next to her. He smiles involuntarily at the gesture and sits down. They don't talk for a couple of minutes before he decides to push his luck and reaches out to pull her closer. He's pleasantly surprised when she doesn't object, but instead snuggles close to him, burying her face in his shoulder to stifle a yawn.

"You can sleep, Zi. You're safe with me," he whispers while brushing his fingers through her soft curls.

"Thank you," she whispers back, "For being concerned, for staying here, for-"

He interrupts her by putting a finger to her lips. "Shh, it's okay. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right..." she says absentmindedly. Her words are again followed by silence.
After a while he feels her eyes on him and turns his head to look at her. She's biting her lip in that way that he knows means she is thinking about whether she should do something or not, but just as he wants to ask her what's on her mind, she slowly moves closer and answers his question by softly pressing her lips to his.

At first he's so surprised and overwhelmed with feelings that he doesn't even react to her kiss, causing her to pull back and whisper a soft 'sorry', but in the next second he's pulling her close again and kisses her eagerly. His stomach is doing joyous back flips when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm, teasingly biting his lower lip while pushing him down on the couch into a lying position with herself on top of him.
He's breathing hard when they break apart for air and smiles up at her. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks even more beautiful to him than usual. Just as he wants to compliment her, though, she starts placing butterfly kisses along his jaw line, before again capturing his lips with her own.
He figures the talking can wait when she moves her hips against him in just the right way and her hands wander downwards.

...

The rhythmical tapping of raindrops against the window wakes him in the early morning. His arm is draped around a tanned body and he grins inwardly at Ziva's soft snoring. In every other girl he would find it extremely annoying, possibly even a reason for breakup, but with her it's just adorable. Although, adorable is probably not the best adjective to describe a Mossad assassin.
He traces patterns along her bare shoulder for a while, just enjoying the moment, until sleep almost overcomes him again. But he knows that he has to get up and go home. Just because theyare ignoring Rule 12, doesn't mean Gibbs is too, so he needs to shower and change before he can get to work without raising any suspicions.

With a sigh he gets up, picking his boxer shorts up from next to the bed and putting them on. He doesn't really remember how exactly they have made their way from the couch to the bed last night, but judging by the trail of clothing they left they were too busy getting undressed to pay any attention.
He gathers all his things together and, after a trip to the bathroom to look more presentable to Ziva's neighbors, should he meet one, picks up his phone on the coffee table. It's 3:20 am, so he might even catch some more sleep at his apartment before getting ready for work. He silently makes his way into the bed room, expecting her to be still asleep, but when he enters he finds two sleepy dark eyes looking back at him.

"I gotta go, Zi," he whispers while sitting down on her side of the bed, brushing a single curl out of her face. "See you at work?"

"Thank you," she whispers, sitting up, "for not letting me be alone tonight. I needed that."
He's slightly taken aback by that. Is she just thinking of all this as comfort-sex? Because he certainly isn't. He opens his mouth to ask her about it, but she seems to understand without words, because she leans in and softly kisses him.
"It was not meant like that," she says breathily against his lips.

"Good," he murmurs before kissing her again. Before they can lose themselves in kisses, he pulls back, smiling apologetically, "I really need to go now."
She nods and just presses her lips against his for one last peck.
"It's going be hard not to do that at work, you know?" he chuckles.

"We might just have to behave," she says, but her tone holds something cheeky and he thinks that maybe they are going to get in trouble sooner or later.
With a sigh he squeezes her hand once and gets up. She waves goodbye, before snuggling back under the covers.

…

Still in a state of utter bliss and joyfulness when he gets into his car, he doesn't hear the faint shattering of glass, followed by a muffled scream coming from her apartment.

Yeah, I know, I know...I really seem to enjoy torturing you with my cliffies.

Don't be mad at me, Please.
And hey...I wouldn't want to cause you guys any inconvenience, but, uh, could you..y'know...leave a Review on the way out? That would be AWESOME :)

See ya soon (: