Average Chapter: 10
"So you want to know about Natalya Romanova huh?" Harry said more than asked as he looked at Ziva, now curled up comfortably in his Armchair. She nodded and Harry shrugged slightly, his ears red. "Well in that case I think we'll need more than coffee if we're gonna get into this." Harry said, walking to the kitchenette to fetch another whisky glass - his own still sat on the side table by the bottle.
He came back to the living room and poured three fingers into each glass, handing one to Ziva and taking he other in his own long fingers.
"You remember that senior agent I told you about on the Rainier case, the one who shot me." He asked.
Ziva nodded slightly, cradling the glass In her small hands. "Yes, Rourke wasn't it?"
"Yeah, him." Harry said, a grim look to his face. "Well after I'd recovered from my spill in the Volgov, and had the slugs pulled from my chest, I was flown back to the UK to make my report." He said, his eyes misty with past memories. "C was displeased, to say the least, he's old school you see?" Harry said with a brief chuckle. "He came to MI6 from the army, special forces recce. He didn't care that I'd taken three rounds, he was of the opinion that I should have spat them back at Rourke. Hell, the old bastard probably can spit lead." He paused for a moment. "Anyway, after I was chewed out, I was reassigned. my job now was to make contact with a Russian SVR agent." Harry took a sip of his whisky. "Natalya Romanova. As it turns out, the Russian government wanted to move away from their cold war image and having Russian nationals selling weapons to Pirates agitating the Royal Navy was not... conducive to that." He shrugged. "They wanted the arms dealer and we wanted Rourke. A win win where we were concerned."
"So what happened then?" Ziva asked, taking an experimental sip of her whisky, Grimacing she did.
"Not to your taste?" Harry asked with a small chuckle.
"No." She agreed, face twisting in distaste. "I prefer Arak."
"Arak?" Harry asked curiously. "I've never heard of it."
"Mmm." Ziva said, placing the whisky glass on the side table. "It's a distilled spirit flavoured with aniseed. Similar to sambuca. It's very popular in Israel and most of the neighbouring countries."
Harry gave her a blank look for a moment. "... that sounds foul." He said simply.
"Says the man drinking mud flavoured petrol." She replied with a small laugh.
Harry chuckled along with her for a moment before he got back to his story. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so I was sent to meet a Russian SVR agent in Prague, one of the weapon stop overs on the way to the Atlantic. We assumed that because their main base of operations had been compromised that the smugglers would move. And they did. Prague was the second largest part of their operation so the chances of them being there was high." Harry took another sip of his whisky and grinned at Zivas look of distaste as he did. "I met up with the agent in a little bar on Kaprova street and that's when I first met Natalya Romanova." Harry paused for a moment, taking another sip. "She was...highly skilled." Harry said.
"That's all you have to say?" Ziva asked in disbelief. "From your reaction I was suspecting some sordid tale of forbidden fruit."
Harry let out a dry chuckle. "That comes later." He said. "When I first met her I was struck dumb, when I saw her in action I was blown away. I was fresh from the academy, I'd fluffed my first op and now I was supposed to work with a woman who lived and breathed espionage. A woman who made some of the senior operatives I'd met look like rank amateurs. I was out of my depth in every way." He drained his glass. "I'll admit, I was starstruck, she was the agent I wanted to be. We found the Arms ring easily enough, and Rourke was with them. After I reported him to SIS he had nowhere else to turn and was now doing freelance work on their payroll. We busted in there like the wrath of the gods and grabbed the leader and Rourke before exfilling out the window." Harry grinned. "There's nothing quite like the feeling of hurtling towards the ground from the seventh story, bullets and shards of glass chasing you down, with nothing but a climbing rope stopping you from going splat at the bottom." He chuckled. "We piled the two into the boot of the car and sped off like a bat out of hell, we didn't stop until we were halfway to Plezň." Harry lost his grin. "Natalya had a pre-prepared safe house ready for us in Komárov. We tied the two together and chucked them, unconscious, into a secure room. She had who she wanted and I had who I wanted. Job done. Success."
"So what went wrong?" Ziva asked, shifting slightly in the armchair. Harry ran a hand through his hair.
"Natalya convinced me to celebrate a job well done." He said with a grim smile. "We got very, very drunk. Or at least I thought we did, turned out I got very very drunk and she was perfectly sober." A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "We had horribly clumsy sex and I passed out."
Ziva snorted and Harry shot her a look. "When I woke up the sun was up and my clothes, gun, and pretty much everything was gone. I panicked and went to check the room we'd locked Rourke and the arms dealer in. The arms dealer was dead, Rourke was gone, and Natalya was nowhere to be found. It turned out that the Russians couldn't care less about the arms smuggling they wanted Rourke, and the information about SIS that he held." Harry grimaced. "There was a note from Natalya in the room that said 'better luck next time lover'. I felt like a fool, I'd been played almost since the get go."
Ziva frowned. "I can't imagine your boss was pleased with you, no?"
Harry barked out a laugh. "He doesn't know." Then he paused. "Well he probably does but I didn't tell him."
"What?" Ziva asked in shock. "Then what did you do?"
"I ran, naked as the day I was born, into the street and stole a car. There was a phone in the glove box and I managed to get into contact with James as I was speeding back to Prague. " He said.
Ziva stared at him for a moment in open mouthed shock before she burst out into raucous laughter at the thought of Harry sprinting down a street naked, trying to steal a car. Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."
"So then what happened?" She asked between her giggles.
"After James called me every name under the sun he told me about the secondary extraction point to be used if the shit hit the fan. There was a hanger in Václav Havel airport that had a cessna skyhawk in it, enough to get us out of the country if we had to. I went flat out and caught up to her as she was fueling the plane."
"What did you do?" Ziva asked. Harry went and sat on the the arm of the chair and Ziva stood, he flopped down into the seat and she sat back down on his lap.
"We fought and I was having my arse handed to me. Just as I got the upper hand the SIS extraction team that James had sent came bursting into the hanger. So there I stood, bollocky buff, Rourke tied up in the backseat of the plane, with Natalya in a head lock. The helmet cam of one of the recovery agents made the rounds in the office a few times after that."
Ziva gave a short noise of amusement before speaking. "So what happened to Natalya?"
Harry shrugged. "She was taken into custody but she escaped a few hours later. What mattered is that we had Rourke and the weapons smugglers had been crippled. I haven't heard anything of her since." He scratched his chin. "The official report was filed that the original safe house was compromised and that Natalya and I had argued over custody of Rourke. The smuggler was killed during extraction according to the official line."
"So that's the story of Natalya Romanova then?" Ziva asked.
Harry nodded.
"It wasn't that bad." Ziva said with a snort. "I don't know why you mad such a fuss over it."
Harry shrugged as he wrapped his arms, almost without thinking, around her middle. "It's just embarrassing. My early operations weren't exactly my most successful. And the ones that were are boring."
"Boring missions are the best missions." Ziva said as she leant her head back against his chest. "Very little goes wrong on a boring mission."
"True enough." Harry agreed. He was quiet for a moment before he perked up. "Have you eaten yet?" He asked.
"Hmm? Oh, no. I came here straight from work." Ziva said as she turned her head to look at him.
"Do you want dinner then? I've got... well, I don't think I've got anything actually, you want takeaway, I'm buying?" He asked. He should probably go shopping at some point.
She nodded before she spoke. "Please, there's a pizza place that Tony uses when he stays late at the office. I think I've got the number."
"Okay." Harry said as he stood, lifting Ziva with him - one hand on her back the other under her knees. She gave a startled squeak at the sudden burst of movement after the laziness of story time and Harry spun on his heels, placing her back in the chair as he went to get his phone.
~O~
The next morning Harry woke at five and stepped out of bed, dropping into the press up position shortly after. Ziva had left the night before, a little after dinner, at about nine o'clock. Ten minutes later Harry had completed a short bodyweight circuit and moved towards the shower, fifteen minutes after that and he was in front of the mirror inspecting his face after yesterday's scuffle with Byrne. His cheek was grazed and sore to the touch and his left eye had a large black bruise surrounding it but he could have come off a lot worse, his ribs were sore and would be for another few days but overall he was in a good condition considering. He stepped out of the ensuite and headed to his wardrobe, dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a maroon tie, and went to the kitchenette. After a quick breakfast Harry grabbed his car keys from the bowl by the door and headed out, intending to go and find some form of food for his small apartment - perhaps something Kosher if Ziva would be coming around more often.
~O~
Shopping done, Harry headed back 'home' or what was currently home for the remainder of his stint in America. It would appear that he'd be in America for a while longer at least, to say that information on Eli David was slow coming would be one hell of an understatement but Harry had the feeling that SIS knew that this was a long shot, hell he'd been told it was a long shot when he started. To be completely honest to the operation Harry knew that this was less about information and more about having him away from C for a while him though he thought extended operations in America was a little over the top. Still, Harry did as he was told, most of the time, though what he could do to gather more information he didn't know. The usual idea of bugging the targets residence and person wouldn't work in this case, not to mention that the very notion itself seemed... wrong to Harry at the moment, seeing as the target was a person that he rather liked on a personal level. He'd have to think of an alternative angle for this one.
He arrived at his apartment and went to unpack his shopping, thoughts of SIS, Ziva, and Eli David swirling in his head.
~O~
The weeks leading up to Christmas were slow in Washington, the team had no cases and the world was generally quiet as far as Harry was concerned, no threats of Nuclear war or terrorist bombings, no real need to go to NCIS headquarters. He spent his time trying to think of possible routes to the information he required, whatever that information was in the first place. The job was to find usable information on Eli David for the international game of chess that was the intelligence world, so far all he'd learned was that the man was a shit father, a womaniser, and a rigidly loyal subject of his country. Not exactly a treasure trove of usable information but, alas, it was all he had at the moment. The thing was though, the more Harry thought about what he had to do, the less he liked it. After all, Ziva was becoming quite a good friend, the idea of using her for information on her father seemed more than callous at this point. Harry ran these thoughts around his mind as he stepped into his small kitchenette, intent on making himself a cup of tea to calm his mind whilst he sat and thought about his next move. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and flicked the kettle on, adding a teabag to his cup as he waited. On one hand he had his job, which he loved, and on the other he had Zivas friendship, which was beginning to matter more as the days went on, it was all a bit of a cluster fuck really. He pushed such thoughts from his mind as he sat in his armchair facing the window, tea in hand. He had something slightly more immediate on his mind, Christmas was two days away and frankly Harry had no idea if he was supposed to get gifts for the team... or if Ziva even celebrated Christmas. Tony was easy, alcohol for him, something techy for McGee, maybe something James could pick up from the office and send over, proper tea for ducky, twinnings or Yorkshire perhaps. Abby old probably find some amusement from a minor magical object, disarmed obviously, palmer would like a novelty item. The problem would be Gibbs and Ziva. Something functional obviously but not too impersonal. He'd have to think on it.
Harry grabbed his keys and gave the apartment a quick glance as he moved to leave, he'd give it a quick clean when he got back.
In the end he picked up a crate of Budweiser Budvar premium for Tony, with McGee he'd cheated and wrapped up the video glasses he'd used on the Rainier op, he bought palmer a novelty flask shaped like a medical beaker, and for Abby he got six jet-black candles that burned with a blue flame, like the ones used during nearly-headless Nick's death day party - he figured he could explain away the blue flame. He picked up a box of three hundred twinnings Earl Grey teabags for Ducky and on a whim bought a mug for the director. All that was left was to find gifts for Ziva and Gibbs. For Gibbs he was thinking a leatherman, practical and functional. For Ziva though, he had something else in mind, he'd seen the knife she usually carried at her hip - and played with it too, it was a utilitarian tanto pointed blade with a black polymer handle - and he thought he'd buy her an upgrade. Currently sat wrapped in his roll top desk was a Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife with a diamond pattern grip, wooden handled, and a blackened blade. He thought it would make a good present for a woman with an appreciation for pretty things with a deadly purpose. All he had to do now was sort out his own Christmas gift, well sort of gift he already owned what he wanted, and to that end he was currently writing to Hermione.
Dear Hermione
How are things at home? I know I haven't been back in a while but I've been really busy with work, so many people in need of accountants with the economy the way it is, businesses needing auditing and rich people needing budgets, you know how it is. How's Ron and the rest of the family? Good I hope, give my love to the weasleys, your parents, and Andi for me. I was wondering if you could do me a favour? Business is going to be keeping me in America for longer than usual so I was hoping you could send my bike over with your reply, just tie it to the letter and send it back the usual way.
Much love,
Harry potter.
Harry picked up the parchment when he was done, waved it around to dry the ink, and then sealed it with his signet ring. Afterwards he tapped the letter and whispered Portus. The letter was now on a timer and in five seconds would dissappear and then reappear on Hermione's desk half way around the world. It disappeared moments later and Harry stood with a smile, hopefully his bike would arrive tomorrow at some point with news from Hermione. He rubbed his head as he walked to the roll top desk in the living room, he should probably make more of an effort to keep in contact with his friends more often he thought as he settled into his armchair and pulled out his Crypto phone. Dialling Zivas number he waited a beat before the connection was established and the line began to ring. Four beats later she answered.
"Hello?" Came her voice, slightly tinny over the phone.
"Ziva, it's Harry." He said as propped his foot on his knee.
"Harry." She said in mild surprise, there was a small shuffle on the other end of the line."how are you?" She asked .
"Yeah I'm fine." He answered. "I was wondering if you had any plans tomorrow?"
"Not during the day, Hanukkah begins tomorrow night but I've already bought my candles."
"Hanukkah?" Harry asked curiously.
"Yes, the festival of lights, it's a Jewish holiday that celebrates the successful Judean revolt against Antiochus the fourth. We light a candle each night in memory of the rededication of the temple of Jerusalem." She answered patiently.
"Ah right, interesting, is it always on the same date?" Harry asked, finding himself interested in this brief foray into Zivas personal beliefs.
He could almost feel her nod through the phone he thought with a smile as she answered. "In the Hebrew calendar it does, it varies in the Gregorian calender."
"I understand, so how do you celebrate the holiday then? Is it just the candles or are there other things too?" He asked.
"In Israel we may leave work early to be home before nightfall unless you're considered essential personnel, we drink wine and eat fried foods, we sing songs and tell stories, children play driedl and swap gelts. Beyond that life continues normally. Hanukkah isn't considered to be as holy as say Yom Kippur or passover but it's still an important holiday." She answered.
"That sounds interesting, so you said you'd be free tomorrow during the day?" He asked as he idly brushed some dust off the side of his brogue.
"Yes." Was her simple answer.
"Excellent." Harry said with a grin. "Do you want to come around for lunch? Normally I'd ask if you want to go out but everything will be closed tomorrow."
"Of course, I think I'd like that." She answered, a smile evident in her voice.
"Great." Harry said. "Come over about one?"
"I'll be there." She answered.
"Okay I'll see you then."
"Okay, goodbye Harry."
"Goodbye Ziva." Harry said as he ended the call, slipping his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He stood slowly and checked his watch, 20:00 hrs, he'd give it two hours and then get some sleep.
~O~
The next morning Harry awoke at 0500 hrs and went about his normal morning routine of of a short circuit and a shower before a light breakfast and a cup of tea. He got dressed in a pair of blue trousers and a maroon shirt before he went to check his desk. Washington was currently in Eastern Standard Time, putting it six hours behind London, meaning that it was about midday in England and if Harry was lucky Hermione would have replied before she went to work. Sure enough, sat on his desk, there was a folded piece of parchment and on top of that was a miniature motorcycle. Harry picked up the motorcycle and looked over it fondly. It was a Triumph Bonnevile T120 that had once belonged to his beloved Godfather Sirius Black. The only noticeable difference between the bike currently in his hand a stock model was that instead of having a twin exhaust his godfather and modified it to merge the twin exhaust into a single feed on the right hand side. Beyond that was the fact that it could fly and the multitude of small magical add ons that had been added by both Sirius and Mr Weasley. Harry had been left the bike in Sirius' will and after loaning it to Mr Weasley and Hagrid he had taken possession of it when the war had ended, much to the consternation of Mrs Weasley. He could almost hear her now.
"Tearing around on that monstrous death trap, it's almost like you want to give me a heart attack Harry!" Or "I wish you wouldn't ride that bloody thing around Harry, you're going to end up dead one day if you keep messing around d with it, apparating is much safer."
Harry chuckled quietly to himself as he turned the miniature motorcycle over in his hands, Mrs Weasley had been vocal in her dislike of the bike but Harry knew that she meant well.
He placed it to the side on the desk and picked up the letter, cracking the seal and unfolding it to read. Hermione's elegant script greeted him as her poured over the letter.
Dear Harry,
It's so good to hear from you. Everything is going well at the moment, work is the same as always but I'll be taking some time off soon. Brace yourself, I have news. Braced? Good... I'm pregnant Harry!
Here Harrys eyes almost fell out of his skull. Pregnant? Hermione? Hermione Pregnant? He was reading the words, they even followed each other, but they just didn't seem to make sense. Hermione was pregnant? Surely not? Well she was married but still... Hermione pregnant? He continued reading, trying to make sense of this.
I don't want to tell too many people at the moment because it's still early but I'm so excited Harry, I'm going to be a mother! Me! Ron almost had a heart attack when I told him, I think he thought I was pulling his leg but you know how he is. After the shock wore off he started jumping all over the place. I think this will be good for us Harry. I've never seen him more focused. As for the rest of the family the weasleys are well and Ron says hello. George is still running the shop but he's taking more time off than he did before, Mr Weasley is still enjoying his work and even has my father over often for barbecues and to discuss Muggles. Mrs weasley is enjoying the free time she has now she had an empty house but we still go over every Sunday. I'm going to tell her next week about the pregnancy. Ginny is well and Andi sends her love. My parents send their love as well and said that it'd be nice to see you when you're home next, my father also asks that you bring that death trap of a bike with you so that he can ogle it some more. Honestly, sometimes I think he's as bad as you are, what your fascination is with that thing is beyond me but I've even seen Ron taking looks at it when you bring it to the burrow. On the subject please find enclosed your motorcycle. Write back soon Harry I'd like to see you in person soon.
Love,
Hermione
Harry smiled to himself as he finished the letter, he'd have to visit soon, especially with the news of Hermione's pregnancy. He shook his head slightly. He still could wrap his mind around that one, Hermione pregnant, it just didn't seem right. He couldn't make the connection between the bucktoothed, dangerously intelligent, girl he'd met at eleven and the same girl at twenty six being pregnant. Still, he'd have to go and make himself known again and it'd be nice to see everyone especially Mr Granger. He'd struck up a friendship with the man after Hermione had restored her parents memories. He was a calm and compassionate man with a dry sense of humour, an appreciation for good steak, and he wasn't above getting getting his hands dirty. Things Harry respected in a bloke.
He folded the parchment and placed it back on his desk. He'd write back to Hermione later for now he was going to take his bike into the alley beside his apartment block and put it back to the right size, then he was going to take it for a spin. He grabbed the bike and put it into his pocket before walking into the bedroom and opening the wardrobe, he picked up one of his less used suit jackets and transfigured it into a leather jacket. He slipped the jacket on, transfigured his trousers into jeans, and then transfigured his brogues into boots. They'd last for the day until he could pick up some actual boots and leathers after the holidays. He grabbed his keys and headed out of his apartment and down into the street below. He nipped into the alley, looked about for people and upon finding none, placed the miniature motorcycle on the ground and returned it to its proper size. He stepped back after it was done and gave the bike an admiring look. The paint was black and glossy, the engine and exauhst were polished to a high shine, the seat was well maintained and the leather was oiled. It really was a pretty machine. He grinned and swung his leg over, starting the bike, before speeding out of the alley and onto the road.
Harry arrived back at his apartment two hours later, having taken the bike around the DC beltway to make sure everything was still in good order and enjoying the near emptiness of the roads brought about by it being 07:00 hrs Christmas morning when he left. Harry parked his bike next to his agency saloon and walked back to his apartment. It was now 09:03 hrs and Ziva wouldn't be arriving until 13:00 hrs. That gave him three hours to kill until he had to get ready and get started on lunch.
Two hours later found Harry outside, fiddling with his bike. He was currently greasing the kickstand hinge after giving the bike a good wash, to get rid of the road dust he'd picked up on the beltway, because it had been a little stiff after its time in storage. After he finished he stood and dusted off his hands before heading inside to clean up. He walked into the flat, chucking his transfigured jacket over the back of his armchair before going to the bathroom for a quick shower. Twenty minutes later and he was towelling off in the steam. Ziva would be arriving in about forty minutes give or take but she was a precise woman and was likely to be on the dot. He gave his hair one last rub with the towel before he looked at himself in the mirror, his green eyes that people had been commenting on for the last fifteen years stared back at him as he looked at the stubble covering his jaw. He should probably shave soon but it could wait.
He stepped out of the ensuite and pulled on the transfigured jeans from earlier, changing his shirt for a brown one with thin vertical stripes, before he moved into the kitchenette. Lunch was going to be simple Welsh rarebit something Harry had discovered a love of whilst spending his lunch breaks at the office in the black dog pub above vauxhall gardens.
He pulled out flour and a bowl from the cupboard, milk and butter from the fridge, and got himself a spoon from the top drawer. He pulled a knife from the block and cut off a knob of butter, then he placed a pan on the hob of his oven and turned up the heat, he placed the butter in the pan and waited for it to melt before adding flour. He mixed in the flour and slowly added milk, stirring continuously until it as lump free. Then he brought the pan to a boil and kept stirring for a few minutes until the sauce was slightly glossy before he took the pan of the heat and placed it to the side. Next he got two eggs from the side and cheese from the fridge. He grated a moderate amount of cheese before cracking both of the eggs into the bowl, gave them a quick whisk, and then added the bechamel sauce he'd just made from the pan before giving the mixture another quick whisk. After that he added the grated cheese and stirred it up until it was thick. Then he took four slices of bread from his bread bin, toasted it, and added a moderate spoonful of the mix to each, spreading it thickly but evenly, then he placed the four slices of toast on a tray and placed them under the grill of the oven. Five minutes later he took the tray from the oven and left it on the side to cool, he'd plate up after that. He placed the pan and the bowl in the sink, along with the spoon and the knife and set about washing up before placing the rest of the ingredients back in their proper places.
Just as he was placing the flour back in the cupboard he heard a knock on the door. He checked his watch as he nudged the small door closed, 13:01, Ziva then.
He brushed his hands together and went to answer the knock.
He opened the door with a smile and saw Ziva stood on the other side, dressed in a long grey woolen coat to ward of the December chill. "Hey, come on in." He said as he stepped to the side, pushing the door closed as she passed him and took off her coat.
"How are you?" He asked as he moved back into the kitchenette to plate up the Rarebit.
"I'm fine, thank you." She answered as she stood in the doorway to the kitchenette, watching as he took two white plates and placed the rarebit on them. "How are you?"
"I am veryyou well, thank you. My bike arrived from England today so I took it for a spin on the beltway. This is for you by the way." He said as he handed her her plate.
"Your bike?" She asked as she looked at the plate.
"Yeah, it's outside by my agency car. I inherited from my godfather."
"Oh, I'm sorry." She said, placing her hand on his shoulder as she followed him into the living room.
"It's okay." Harry said with a smile as he placed his plate on the coffee table. "It was about ten years ago now. He left the bike to me in his will, it drives my surrogate mother round the bend but I love the thing."
Ziva nodded slightly as she looked back at the plate. "I see. So, what's for lunch then?" She asked, settling into Harrys armchair with the plate on her lap.
"Welsh rarebit." Harry answered as he to sat down. "It's basically posh cheese on toast, ironic really considering it originated as peasant food. I got quite fond of it when I started work at SIS. There's a pub called the black dog about a ten minute walk from the office that does it very well, I used to spend my lunch breaks there."
Ziva took a small, experimental, bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "It's good." She said after she swallowed. "What makes it posh?" She asked.
"The fact that it's more than just cheese really." He said with a shrug. "It's made with Bechamel sauce and eggs mixed in with the cheese. You can also add mustard powder and Worcestershire sauce if you want but I left it out because I wasn't sure if you'd like it. Figured I'd stick with a neutral palate."
She nodded as she took another bite and then swallowed before she answered. "It's nice, and for future reference I like mustard, thought I have no idea what this Worcestershire sauce is." She said with a smile.
"Oh?" Harry asked with a grin. "So you plan on coming over for lunch more often?"
"Well, I enjoy the company and you show a moderate level of skill with an oven." She said with a smirk playing about her mouth.
Harry chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes then." He said before he took a bite of his own lunch. It was quite good actually but it could do with some Worcestershire sauce. Ah well, next time.
They sat for a while, slowly eating their lunch and idly chatting until they finished. When they were done Ziva leant back in his armchair and Harry stood to take the plates to his small kitchenette. He placed them in the sink and went to his desk.
"Anyway, I have something for you." He said as he fetched the sheathed knife from within his desk.
"A gift?" She asked. "You shouldn't have."
"I wanted to." Harry insisted. "And besides, I got something for the rest of the team aswell. Your gift just has a bit more use than the others." He said as he handed her the blade, sheath first.
"You got me a knife?" She asked in surprise.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, well I saw the one you usually carry and figured I'd get you something slightly more personal than a standard issue bit of kit."
"Thank you Harry." She said, standing with a smile as she slowly grasped his hand. "Truly, it's a thoughtful gift."
Harry gave her an abashed look as he rubbed the back of his head. "You're very welcome, now go on, have a look at it." He said.
She smiled and drew the knife, inspecting the blade. "It's very well made." She comented, lightly running her finger down the edge. "And sharp." She said as she went on to test the balance. "I love it." She announced with a grin.
"I thought you might like it." Harry said with a small smirk. "You do seem like the type of woman to like pretty things with a deadly edge."
She gave a short chuckle before she returned his smirk in kind. "Perhaps that is the reason I like you, yes?"
"Miss David!" He exclaimed in false shock, putting his hand to his chest.. "Are you calling me pretty?" He grinned.
"Well." She said as she shrugged, laughter in her eyes. "You do appear to have all of your facial features in the right places." Then she grinned as she ran her hand over the stubble on his jaw. "And I do like this that you seem to be growing at the moment. Very manly, no?"
Harry gave a small smirk as his hand went to meet hers on his jaw. "Well then, might I say that you are very pretty yourself."
They stood like that, face to face, smiling at each other for a moment or two before Harry heard the little voice in the back of his head that usually encouraged his more risky decisions pipe up.
"Do it..."
Well, Harry never really was one for caution anyway.
He leaned in slowly, gauging her reaction, seeing no signs of discomfort he abandoned caution and brought his lips to hers in a slow kiss. They'd done this before, obviously, but not like this. No, this was different. This wasn't an act for a cover or for a cheap laugh at the expense of a coworker. No, this was something else entirely. This was real.
He slowly brought his hand up to the back of her head and deepened the kiss, reveling in the way that she grabbed his shoulder and brought herself closer.
Now, some people describe kisses like this as fireworks or explosions of bliss or something equally ridiculous along those lines. Harry wasn't one for drama, at least not anymore, so this kiss wasn't like that. It wasn't some starstruck moment of clarity or a fairytale kiss of true love that ended in marriage and two-point-four kids. It was kiss.
Simple as that.
It had meaning, yes, and it was a tentative exploration of if there was anything else but a spark of chemistry but as far as kisses went it was good. Not exceptional but good. The type of comfortable kiss between people who understood each other.
He slowly broke away, his hand still entwined with her thick hair as they looked at one another.
"Well, that was nice." He said quietly, breaking the silence, as he moved his arms the loosely circle her waist.
"Mmm." Ziva said, seemingly coming up short on words as she placed her head against his chest. "It was."
"So." Harry began as he pressed a small kiss to her temple. "What now?" He asked.
Ziva shrugged in his arms. "We explore this, yes? We see where it goes." She said, her own arms around his middle.
Harry nodded as he gave her a small squeeze. "Sounds like a plan."
She smiled and stepped back. "For now though, I'm going to head home and pick up some groceries on the way. Next time we'll have lunch at my apartment." She said as she ran a hand down his arm.
"You want to take it in turns?" He asked as he walked her to the door.
"It only seems fair." She said as Harry handed her her coat.
"I agree." Harry began but was silenced when Ziva went up on her toes and pressed a short kiss to his lips.
"Thank you for lunch Harry." She smiled as she stepped back, through his door.
"You're welcome." He replied with a smile.
"I'll see you soon." Ziva said, beginning to move.
Harry nodded and closed the door as she turned to move down the hallway of the apartment building.
'Well, this complicates things...' Harry thought to himself
But he really couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.
A/N: Still typing up on my phone between classes, work, and training nights unfortunately but I am a busy guy. I feel as though the dialogue in this is pretty stilted but as I get back into the swing g of things perhaps it will come more naturally. I really wasn't planning that kiss at the end either but it sort of just came about, give me your thoughts on that one. I'm also going to start putting a small glossary of British slang down here so as to not confuse people, and to also stop future reviews correcting them.
septic: shortened form of septic tank, rhyming slang for yank ehich is also common slang for American in the UK. Septic is slang for Americans.
more to follow as they appear.