Author's Note: It's been a while hasn't it? And yes, I know this fic is years behind the times, but I found it stashed on my hard drive and had to finish it up. So for anyone who's still in love with the early days - enjoy!

Also, I know Zibbs is a father/daughter team, and that it's confirmed in the show as the seasons go on, and it's still one of my favourite platonic pairings. But somehow this just worked its way into my brain and wouldn't let up till I wrote it down. I don't usually like romantic Zibbs, but here we are. We'll call this early Season 3, while they're still working out their dynamic. I promise you I am normally a diehard Tiva shipper.

You know the drill with disclaimers. They're not mine, I just play with them for a while.


What They Need: A Zibbs one-shot


Gibbs wasn't sure how it happened, one minute they'd been talking - arguing really - the next he had her pressed against his boat, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, the stunning woman before him responding with teeth, nails, and tears, and be damned if it wasn't as amazing as it was wrong.


She was still new to his team, and not an entirely welcome addition. She was green, and too used to flying solo, chafing under his leadership. They were still wary of each other, Ziva well aware Gibbs was only following orders when it came to including her on the team, Gibbs not entirely sure where her allegiance lay. But there was something about the fiercely independent brunette that he liked, she had the makings of a great agent.

Great agent or not, that afternoon she had defied him with no regard for her safety, and he couldn't let that slide. His order would have led to the suspect escaping, an outcome they both viewed as unacceptable, but when she had taken off, in direct contradiction to his command and he had heard the shot ring out, he was sure it would be Ziva leaving in the body bag. He knew perfectly well she had disagreed with his call, but neither this, nor the fact she had apprehended the suspect because of her disobedience eased the ferocity of his reprimand.

"You got lucky this time David. You don't get another chance. Pull a stunt like that again and you're off the team, to hell with what Jenny wants!" He could tell he'd touched a nerve from the way she'd bristled at his harsh words, and the flash of anger in her eyes before she lowered them, refusing to meet his gaze again for the rest of the day, with an angry retort obviously burning a hole in her tongue.

All that considered, he wasn't surprised that she'd beaten him to his house, he was the last agent out, sometime before midnight in this case. He didn't see her car, but he knew before he opened his front door and made his way to the basement that he'd find her there, his bourbon already on her breath. He watched her quietly for a few moments, her hair was loose, but her outfit was still the same dishevelled, bloodstained mess she had worn when he rebuked her earlier.

He descended the stairs slowly, poured his own, generous measure of bourbon and took a long sip, aware she was watching his every move. "Thought I'd told you to go home. Is taking direction going to be a problem David?"

"I have no problem taking orders when they are reasonable!" Gibbs carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression. For once, rarely he'd been wrong, and he knew he'd played it safe, Kate collapsing on the rooftop was never far from his mind, a vision he had no wish to relive with this new agent.

"You could have died today, Ziva." They had circled each other for a while, but had come to stand toe to toe, staring each other down.

"But I did not." Her chin lifted stubbornly. "I brought him down, is that not what matters?"

"It matters that you ignored what I said, that you put the life of that scumbag ahead of your own." It took conscious effort to keep the anger out of his own voice, and another sip of bourbon helped to hide the emotion.

"Look who is calling the pot black." Ziva retorted. "You would do the same."

"I also know when to wait for backup." Even as he spoke, he knew he would have done exactly the same thing in her position. Ziva sensed this too and cursed in Hebrew, "English, David." He reminded her.

"Bullshit!" She spat, a translation he didn't really need. "Tell me I was out of line, but do not lie to me." Her voice lowered dangerously, a tone anyone else would have quaked at. "You do the same thing every damn day. Why take it out on me when I do that also?" Their eyes locked, neither agent willing to back down.

"I'm your boss, David, and you defied a direct order." He noted how her fingers tightened around the coffee mug of bourbon, in contrast to his calm, impassive tone.

"Well if it is just about the job, was that not a job well done?"

"There's no room for a loose cannon on my team, you need to follow orders."

"We stopped Morton, and we gave Petty Officer Grant's family the answers they needed. Was that not the objective, or is there something you are not saying?" He realised she knew exactly why his words had been so harsh, and was daring him to admit it.

"You gotta trust me when I say it's not safe." Although there was a softness to his tone, his only concession to his young agent's challenge, his face still held its trademark stony gaze. Ziva scoffed audibly.

"Of course! Gibbs' famous gut. How could I forget? Why do you not trust that I also know what is safe, what I am capable of? Trust that I am there for your team?" He caught the note of hurt simmering below the rage at her final words as she slammed her cup down and headed for the stairs.

"David, wait!" He was behind her in a single long stride and grabbed her elbow, yanking her to face him. Her emotions still raw, the sudden jerk took her by surprise, and Gibbs felt the surge of energy beneath his hand as she spun, her defensive reflexes in full force. On instinct, he raised his hand, closing his fingers around her wrist stopping her hand less than a second before she connected with his face.

"Don't..." He growled. She resisted him for a second, no longer trying to strike, but simply to get free. HIs other arm came around her waist, stilling her and waited until her arm had relaxed in his grasp before he continued. "You can yell, swear, call me names, but you do not solve this by hitting me." He warned, his voice still even. The struggle had brought them close enough that Ziva's chest was against his and she needed to tilt her head up to meet his eyes, and although hers flashed with anger his own were still strangely calm.

"Would you stop being so... so... cold!" She burst out at last, perturbed by the lack of emotion in his face, his grip on her wrist not letting up.

Something snapped inside him when she issued this final challenge. Before he knew what had happened, he dropped her wrist, the same hand moving to cup the back of her skull, pulling her close and kissing her hard. Her body stiffened, and he felt her gasp against his mouth, before fighting back with lips and tongue, not pushing him away, but returning the kiss with equal force. It was when he tasted salt, and realised she was crying that he pulled away from her.

She seemed lost for words, touching her fingertips to her mouth softly. The tears he had tasted had simply welled over, she wasn't actively crying, and he noticed how they had run clean paths through the dirt that still streaked her cheeks from the fight earlier in the day. He met her eyes, expecting to see betrayal, but finding only a quiet awe and glimmer of understanding.

"That..." she paused and rolled her tongue over her lower lip, tasting where he had been a second ago. "That was not cold."

"Never underestimate me Ziva." He reminded her quietly, and cupped her cheek, his thumb swiping at her tears, serving only to make muddy streaks along her face.

"I should go." Ziva gently peeled his hand from her face, and untangled herself from his arms. This time when his hand landed on her shoulder she didn't try and fight back, "This is not how you want to deal with this."

"It's not how you'd want it either." Gibbs shrugged, turning her to face him. "Way I see it though, might just be what we need." Every fibre of his gut screamed at him not to do this, he'd messed up bigtime, and still despite every alarm sounding in his head, he heard himself suggesting they continue.

There was a moment's pause and suddenly the full weight of her hit his chest, her arms coming around him to kiss him fiercely. He returned the kiss, tasting her tears, the bourbon, her hurt, and he poured his own right back to her, meeting her kiss for kiss, touch for touch. He guided them backwards, pressing her back against the nearest solid object, tearing his mouth away to layer kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids, the long line of her neck as she arched back.

They had no more need for words, as his lips travelled down the hollow of her throat drawing a ragged gasp that he felt beneath his mouth. Her hands curled in his hair, pulling him closer, the clenched fist hurting at the same time, a physical manifestation of the emotions they could not verbally express. He raised his head to press another bruising kiss to her lips, and this time he knew the tears he tasted came from his own eyes. Her hand fluttered to his face, a brief moment of tenderness in the passionately furious onslaught, and he knew she had tasted them too. The respite was over just as quickly as it came, her teeth trapping his lower lip hard enough to hurt.

He yanked her shirt up and over her head, hearing the fabric tear in his haste. Ziva shivered against him as his kisses moved down, his nose brushing the top of the sensitive skin of her cleavage, his hands skimming her shoulders, pushing her bra down her arms and to the floor. He felt the shudder and groaned appreciatively at her reaction, kissing across the tops of her breasts softly. Flinching, she hissed, the action was too gentle, too intimate. Pulling his mouth back to hers, she twined her arms around his neck with another aggressive kiss, he understood exactly what she was offering and switched back, biting her pulse point, his fingers digging in to the soft skin at her waist.

She wasn't resisting him, but fighting for dominance with every step, all nails and teeth and hot, demanding kisses. They were both used to being in charge here as well as on the field. A power play fell into place, each fighting for control, leaving teeth marks and scrapes. Her nails raked over his back as his shirt came off, and his teeth sank into the hollow of her shoulder, the skin tasting both sweet and salty. When he returned his attention to her breasts he was less gentle this time, kneading his fingers hard into her skin, rewarded by an arched back and gasp. He dropped his head, tasting her again, feeling her hand clench in his hair in approval as he raked his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

Hands moved lower, pulling at buckles and zips, seeking more intimate flesh. Every touch was deliberate and insistent, resulting in gasps and moans, and hips grinding into the sensation. They were sweating now, still kissing and biting where they could reach, but frequently breaking away to inhale heavy gasps of air. Neither one was crying anymore or even truly angry, but both still demanded as much as they gave, pushing every frayed emotion, every harsh word, every moment of frustration into their touches, accusing the other of their faults, and punishing them for the hurt caused.

Suddenly Gibbs snatched Ziva's hand away, breathing hard against her neck. She growled, annoyed, but didn't fight, understanding his need for reprieve, and focusing her attention to his neck and lips again as his own touches to her became more purposeful. He hissed a warning as he nipped her ear lobe, sensing she was holding back. Sinking his teeth into her neck once more, his fingers curled, seeking exactly the right spot and was rewarded when she came crashing over the edge, digging her nails into his shoulders as her knees buckled.

They broke apart, gasping for breath as Ziva came down from her high, eyes locking again. There was no more fury in her gaze, only a deep, almost empty sadness. The anger had dissipated, the pain they had inflicted on the other necessary to move through the rage, but had left in its place a raw hurt, both parties shaken by the near violence of the encounter; shocked that the person they had trusted to be this close could also cause so much pain.

"You were right." Ziva's tone was flat and emotionless. "That was exactly what we needed." With some oxygen in his brain to fuel rational thought again, every sense Gibbs had was screaming for him to apologize, send Ziva home, drink himself stupid and hope she could forgive him.

"Ziva..." He knew the pain in her eyes was entirely his doing, and his to fix and so, in spite of himself, he found he was pulling her close, kissing her just as deeply but without the aggression, offering her forgiveness and healing. She resisted him for a moment, unwilling to open herself up for more of the same treatment, no matter how fully she'd given it just seconds earlier. He pulled back, lifting her chin gently so she could see his eyes, the unspoken apology, the desire to heal, the hurt she had caused him, just as great as her own. With a heaving gasp, she threw herself at him, seeking his lips.

If a furious, almost sadistic Ziva was a pleasure, then a gently passionate, responsive Ziva was mind blowing. She kissed him back, offering him the same redemption he gave her, sighing beneath his mouth, her skin coming up in a trail of goosebumps as he ghosted his fingers down her arms. Her body pressed against him in an entirely different manner, every brush of her satin skin sending off nerve responses like fireworks, as he tangled his hands in her hair, deepening the kiss still more. Fingers which had previously scratched and bruised now caressed, tracing every curve and mapping out the other's body, her lips doing more work than her teeth in pressing a line kisses down his neck that he felt to his core.

As with before, she seemed to be everywhere at once, but no longer with the white-hot intensity that screamed of control and anger. Instead she was twined around him like a living, breathing, sensuous vine. A tangle of skin, and hair and kisses that he would have gladly suffocated in. His aggression and dominance had gone too, giving deep, soul-searching kisses that she returned willingly, melting beneathing his touch, and letting him take everything she had to offer.

"Upstairs." He muttered hoarsely. They paused several times along the way for another long kiss, stripping each other of what little clothing remained as they went. At one point, she pushed back from where he had her pressed against a door jamb, her hands held softly above her head while he savoured the soft skin of her breasts, and turned them both so he was the one pinned, dropping to her knees. The first touch of her mouth had his head fall back, hitting the frame with a crack he knew he'd be feeling for days, the second had him clutching the wall for support.

After a few moments, he reached down for her shoulders, tugging her to her feet again, and knew the smouldering desire in her eyes mirrored his own. "Bedroom." he murmured against her lips and taking his hand she followed him willingly. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she straddled his lap, winding her arms around his neck for another kiss. Yet more healing kisses and touches ensued, both taking the time to kiss every scratch, bite or bruise they had marked earlier. They were almost silent, letting their touches do the talking, apologising, understanding, making amends and laying bare what they couldn't say before. There was no struggle for dominance, this time they were equals, taking turns gently and sighing appreciation at the attention they received.

Finally, Gibbs laid Ziva back gently, with a kiss on her forehead, and trailing them down her body. When he paused, meeting her eyes again over the smooth plane of her belly, seeking permission. She was responsive as he was generous and Gibbs quickly brought her to the edge, revelling in her gasps and moans, delighting in how she rolled her hips to meet him, laughing softly when a frustrated groan burst from her throat as he pulled away again. He thought to himself that he could do this forever, he'd always appreciated a responsive partner, and the lovely brunette so willingly reacting to every touch, no matter how gentle, was positively hypnotic. When it became clear the teasing was too much, he moved up over her again, pausing, waiting for her dazed eyes to focus on him.

"Can I...?" He whispered when he knew she was fully aware of his closeness.

"Yes." She answered simply. There was that awkward, but necessary pause to reach into the bedside table for protection, but moments later he was nestled between her thighs again, her pelvis moving to meet him instinctively. He lowered his head to brush a kiss to her temple, and her hand came to hold him there, waiting until she tilted her hips to allow him to sink fully into her, and for several seconds all they could do was adjust to the startlingly tight, perfect fit. It wasn't until their breathing fell into sync that she nodded her head to let him move.

Rocking slowly, he found himself lost in her. They could move as though they'd done it a thousand times before, whatever their history, and whatever difference of opinion they'd had earlier, they were truly in tune now. Gradually the pattern of gentle rocking became faster, harder. He saw white spots behind his eyes the first time she fell to pieces beneath him, and gathered her close as she shook, wondering how such a toned body could feel so impossibly fragile at the same time.

As intoxicating as the sensation between them was, they knew they'd teased too long, pressure was building in a big way. They hastened to match each others' pace, using hands, mouths, whatever they could. They brought each other to a peak and tumbled over it together, pushing into each other, a guttural groan ripping from Gibbs' throat, his given name gasped just once from hers. His head dropped beside hers to the pillow, as he caught his breath, feeling her hands move in long soothing strokes down his spine. When she squirmed under his weight, he shifted until she was beside him, tucked under his arm with her head on his shoulder, riding out their afterglow in silence.

He was just starting to doze when he felt her sit up and head for the door. "You ok?"

"Bathroom?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, but the normalcy of the question reassured him.

"On your left." He sat up to drag the blankets up the bed, covering himself and dropping his head back to the pillow. He heard the toilet flush, the water run in the bathroom sink, the pad of her bare feet, and the creak of the door as she returned.

"Sleep, David." He cracked one eye to glance at her. "Yes, here." He gestured over his shoulder to the empty space on the other side of the bed, in answer to her hesitant pause.

"Is that an order?" She murmured, sliding in beside him. He gave a throaty chuckle, as sleep claimed them both quickly.


Drained, yet content, he slept heavily almost unaware of the woman beside him, and the sun was well into the sky before it disturbed him. He blinked twice slowly, wondering why he was in the bed after spending so many nights solo on the couch, then was suddenly wide awake, realising that she was still there beside him. He fully expected that she would have been long gone, and a dozen furious voicemails from Jenny waiting on his phone. But she was still sleeping, and he studied her in silence for a few moments, the dark tousled curls, the soft flush of her cheeks, her mouth, still bearing a lightly beestung look from his kisses, the delicate Star of David pendant he had barely noticed hours earlier as he'd traced every line of her throat. She'd kicked the blankets off, and as his eyes followed the curves of her body downward, he noticed the purple bloom of a love bite on the top of her breast, and the clear imprints of his fingers at her waist. Forensic marks that Abby would have had a field day with, but here, in this setting they reminded him of exactly how bad they'd messed up, and how incredible it had been all in the same moment.

"My eyes are up here Gibbs." His gaze snapped back to her face quickly, she was smirking, amused by his perusal, and not at all annoyed, she even appeared to be making her own visual inventory of him. For a second he wondered if she found her view as pleasurable as his own, before remembering exactly how far up a proverbial creek he could be. "Good morning," she yawned, pushing her hair off her face.

"Morning" he returned, smiling inwardly that she could seem so natural, as though waking beside her boss, dishevelled and naked was something she did every day. There was a slight defiance in her eyes, she would not be embarrassed or ashamed by what happened, daring him to make it awkward. He held her gaze, no longer seeing either anger or hurt, just the beautiful dark eyes of the woman he worked with, filled with trust and respect, and followed her lead. "Sleep well?" He asked with a dry smile.

"You were right, that was what I needed." This time her voice was genuine, a contentment that reached her eyes.

"Still an unfeeling bastard?" Gibbs couldn't help himself. She laughed softly. "I'll take that as a no."

"It would appear I underestimated you Gibbs." Ziva admitted.

"Looks like I should have given you more credit too." He rubbed at a bite mark on his neck, he'd be wearing a scarf to work for a few days from the feel. She smirked briefly in response. They were quiet for a while, just watching each other, reading each other's faces to understand what this was. She looked genuinely relaxed for the first time since he'd spotted her pacing his basement, the calm that had settled in her expression making her look softer and younger, but already he could see the doubt about her professional actions clouding her eyes, and she tugged the sheet up to cover herself.

"Think we need coffee for this." He suggested. She broke their eye contact, looking around for something to wear; her clothes were mostly in the basement, and those that weren't made a scattered trail ending just outside the bedroom door. Gibbs realised the same thing about a moment later, he was in much the same situation though he had the benefit of a dresser full of clothes, albeit a few paces across the room. Without words, he pulled one of the blankets free, and wrapped it around his waist, heading for the dresser. Ziva rolled to her belly, away from him, allowing him privacy to shed the blanket and throw on a t-shirt and sweats.

"Here," He tossed a t-shirt onto the foot of the bed. "Didn't see your car out front - figure you haven't got your go bag."

"I parked 5 blocks away, I needed to run." Ziva admitted, Gibbs turned his back as she pulled the shirt over his head. The grey shirt was long, the hem reaching finishing at her thighs, it wasn't couture fashion, but it provided the required level of modesty.

Gibbs chuckled his response, "Always were headstrong weren't you?" Ziva flinched, after all, it was that same character trait that had led to this now.

"Gibbs..."

"No." He cut her off. "Coffee first, see what else you can find that fits you... don't think there's a lot left of what you arrived in. Come down when you're ready" They both laughed, her clothes had been in bad shape after fighting with their suspect anyway, and made worse by the frantic disrobing. He headed towards the kitchen as she picked over the clothes.

Gibbs took advantage of the few minutes silence while the coffee brewed and Ziva dressed to get his thoughts straight. It had been a long time since he'd woken up to a sight like that, and his gut... no it wasn't his gut who was he trying to kid?... had been very tempted to close the gap between them and start all over again, and he needed his head back in the game. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, T-shirt still in place, accessorised with a pair of navy cotton boxers, he was sure the waistband wouldn't have fitted, but she seemed to have made something work. He gestured to the table and turned to pour the coffee.

"Thank you," She took it and sipped cautiously. Gibbs had made and served the coffee to his liking, and he chuckled at her face.

"It'll clear your head, that's for sure." He acknowledged with a smirk. "So, what do you want to talk about first... work or sex?"

"We know where we stand on both counts do we not? Do we really need to talk?" A little of her defensiveness had come back, evidently hoping the intense encounter had said everything they needed to.

"We do David. No getting 'round it this time. You and me, we're damaged stock. We're better at letting our actions talk than our mouths. We said a lot last night, without saying a word. 'Bout time we gave words a try."

"You are right," she admitted with a sigh, sipping her coffee with another grimace and thinking for a moment before picking a topic. "Fine, work."

"We gotta sort this mess out. Ideally without bringing anymore of Jen's wrath down on either of us, and I know I wasn't perfect in all of this. But you gotta play by the rules David, you're not a solo agent anymore."

"I am sorry that I disobeyed you yesterday Gibbs. It was your call and I should have listened." She offered candidly. "But, Gibbs, what is your first rule?"

"Never screw over your partner." He supplied.

"Exactly. I may not have been here long, but I know that one. I know that I am on your team only because Director Shepard wills it, but all the same, I am on your team. I will not screw you over." She meant what she was saying, a sincerity he felt not only in his gut, but with every fibre of his being.

"Understood." Although he had been the one who'd insisted they talk, he knew the one word answer, holding her gaze steadily would say more than an entire monologue. "I need you to understand, being on my team means taking direction. Even ones you don't like."

"It was a bad call, Gibbs. You made it because you did not truly believe I was working for you." As well as they'd understood each other in bed, she only understood half the story.

"No, Ziva. I made it because I don't want to see another agent in a box." He was surprised how easily the admission came, "You might be a pain in my ass, but I don't want you dead anymore than I wanted it to happen to Kate."

"And if you trusted me, you would have known it would not end that way." Although she was defending herself, her rebuttal was gentle, her smaller hand sliding across the table to squeeze his calloused one. "But Gibbs, I am prepared to die in the line of duty if that is what it comes to."

"We all are David. D'ya think I don't know that? But that guy was off his rocker. He'd have taken the whole team down if it meant he didn't end up in custody. You got lucky that you were quicker with your gun than he was." He adjusted his hand unconsciously to link their little fingers, not romantic, but still an undeniable connection between the two.

"I knew what I was taking on, Gibbs. I knew the chances." She maintained, curling her finger around his own.

"Chances be damned, when you put yourself at risk like that, you're saying that a crappy excuse for a human is worth more than your life. You might know the odds, but if you're going to take a risk, make sure it's worthwhile... and he wasn't." It was harder to keep the edge out of his voice, and despite the harshness in his tone, she seemed less troubled by it than with his cold nonchalance from the night before.

"You have my word, I will take heed of your direction in future.". She used her free hand to sip the coffee again, not entirely able to hide her distaste for the bitter liquid. "Although... It is hard to do so when I do not believe the call has been made for the right reasons."

"Listen to me Ziva, I know I've made no secret how I felt about having you on my team. It hasn't been easy for you. And you're right, it was a bad call. But it's my job to keep my team safe, my whole team." He tightened his finger gently around hers, emphasising his point. "I said we were both bad with words, and this is one of those times. I'm a stubborn, hardheaded old Marine. I like things my way. Having Jen push you into my team right after we lost Kate pissed me off. But somehow, you've grown on me, and I should've known better than to doubt you."

"Thankyou, Gibbs. It is good to know where I stand." There was relief in her eyes, and he realised some of her anger the previous night had been a mask for shame. She had known she was in the wrong, despite the good outcome, and was wary of the disciplinary action that may have followed, she valued her place on his team, and his trust in her more than she'd let on.

"Doesn't mean I'm not going to push you, or yell at you when you screw up... and you will. But no more of this dancing around not trusting each other crap. The team doesn't work without trust. Clear on that David?" He changed his tone, one she was much more used to hearing in the bullpen or on the field.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs." She responded in kind.

"Could get used to hearing that!" They both laughed then, feeling the tension lift. They finished their coffees quietly, and working together in unspoken allegiance cleaned the kitchen, Gibbs rinsing the mugs, Ziva wiping the table down. It wasn't till they turned to leave the room, that the small scrap of black fabric in the doorway caught their eyes at the same time.

"Think that's yours." Gibbs couldn't keep the smirk off his face. Ziva quickly concealed the cotton underwear in her fist.

"I believe yours are in the lounge." She offered, smirking back.

"Looks like we have some cleaning up to do. And some more talking." They headed towards the bedroom first, making the bed together.

"I do not have a lot to say." Her voice and her gaze were firm, determined not to let what had passed between them a few hours earlier cause a rift by giving it more meaning than it deserved.

"I do. Shouldn't have kissed you in the first place. I crossed the line as your boss when I did that. Not saying it wasn't amazing." He watched the corner of her mouth flick upwards, the briefest of smiles, tacit agreement that she had enjoyed herself too. "But it shouldn't have happened."

"If I had not wanted it, you would have required stitches." She met him at the end of the bed, brushing her thumb to his lower lip, slightly swollen and bruised where her teeth had clenched the moment his fingers had first found the most sensitive of nerves below her waist.

"Noted." He acknowledged with a smirk. "But we can't be doing this every time we don't see eye to eye... we'd never get out of bed." They both laughed as they traced their path back towards the basement finding three out of four socks - one of Gibbs' seemed to have disappeared into the ether - along the way.

"It was not my intention when I came here. I only meant to tell you what I thought, and I should have waited until we were back at work. However, I cannot deny it was a fun way to work out our differences just this once." He heard her subtle emphasis on the last three words as she stooped to collect her trousers.

"Bit sorry to hear that, in some ways." He opened the basement door, gathering his jeans from the upper landing, and stepping to the side to let her pass.

"Why? Do you make a habit of seducing all your new recruits?" She delivered her sentence with a coy smile, placing the clothes she had collected on the workbench before shimmying under the frame of the boat to reach her bra.

"They wish." He laughed, offering his hand to help her back to her feet. "Gotta say though, it's a mighty effective way to get to know a person. You learn things about a person when you're as close as that."

"You do." She agreed, shaking out her shirt and surveying the damage. In addition to the splatter pattern from the bullet she had put through their suspect's heart and a generous layer of dirt, the neckline was now torn, and the stitches on the hemline had been pulled. Gibbs paused, guilt washing over him, remembering how rough he'd been with her at first.

"Ziva... if I hurt you..."

"Gibbs... Jethro," Ziva amended, catching his attention abruptly with his first name, turning to face him. "Do not. We were both aware of what we were doing and neither of us chose to give in. It was the first time we have truly been honest with each other since we met, and there is nothing to apologise for."

"But Ziva, the look on your face when... After we spent all morning sorting out where we stand, I don't want this to be the thing we can't come back from." She held up her hand to silence him.

"I cannot lie, I was hurt that first time. But you could not lie to me last night either, I could see that I had hurt you in return. And if we had left it there, you are right, we could not have gone on working together. But then we, what is the phrase... flipped the table?"

"Turned the tables." Despite the seriousness of her words, the muddled idiom made him smile. "Gotta say you gave as good as you got."

"It is not the first time I have used sex as a weapon." He knew, without her telling that whatever past incident she was referring to had not ended so pleasantly. "And I do not think it was a first for you either. But afterwards... You said you learn things when you are intimate with another, last night, we learned who we are, but we also know that it was not the way we should have gone about it. However, I can walk away without regret if you can also."

"Gonna take some time to not feel like I took advantage." He admitted gruffly.

"Gibbs. I was not drunk, I was angry." She reached for the cup she had held last night, showing him the brown liquid in the bottom. "I had not had more than a sip when you arrived. I assure you, I was perfectly aware of what was taking place."

"Still shouldn't have kissed you." He found he could not let that last worry go, she may have reciprocated and given herself freely, but that very first move was his doing alone, and one he should never have made.

"And I could have taken my leave after that kiss, and I chose not to. You were so angry that I had made myself less by pursuing Morton even though he could have killed me. Please do not make me small in your eyes by thinking I do not know my own mind."

"You sure about this David? If you need to walk away...?"

"Gibbs." She cut him off. "I gave you my consent, and my loyalty last night." He thought back to the way her eyes had locked with his the first moment he was inside her, and he understood that while this was by no means the first time she had shared that level of physical intimacy, the intense connection and vulnerability she had offered him was something she rarely gave to anyone else, why it had been so easy for him to accept her assurance she was working for him.

"And you're sure that's all that was?"

"Do not misunderstand me Gibbs. That was no love offering. A gift yes, but only one of trust. You kissed me for the same reason I stayed, it was the only way we'd work this out... and you said it yourself... it was what we needed." For the first time in his life, the basement suddenly felt too small. Her intense gaze seemed to bore into his soul, reading between the lines to find the truth he barely admitted to himself.

"I need some fresh air." He headed for the stairs, "Hell of a way to say you trust me David."

"Gibbs... you gave me the same gift." She said, stepping around in front of him and climbing up a stair so their eyes were level. She leaned forward to brush a short, but tender kiss onto his lips, and he watched a playful smile light her face feeling the weight lift from his mind with the sweet simplicity of her gesture. "And now I have kissed you when I should not. We are even."

"Minx." He muttered under his breath, following her up into the light.


He drove her to her car, and followed her home. They still had some talking to do, but the words came easier now, although she insisted she needed her coffee with milk this time.

"Gotta know Ziva, how'd you make the boxers fit?" She had dressed quickly on their return to her apartment, simple black leggings and a deep plum T-Shirt, and much like the morning, they sat around her small kitchen table, drinking coffee and talking.

"Your knife was on the bedside table, I cut the waistband and tied the elastic tighter. I will replace them if it is important."

"Think we're quits on that... you're not going to wear that shirt again." It had not even come home with her, finding residence on his workbench as an all-purpose rag, and he found that he was not entirely sorry to have a small reminder of his newest agent that he could keep.

"If you are happy with that." She agreed readily. He found himself relaxing at her laugh. They had talked about more general topics, and he found now that they saw eye to eye, that she was clever and thoughtful, with a sly sense of humour, occasionally enhanced by her unwitting grammatical errors.

"Bit weird to be buying your boss' underwear." He shrugged. Her cheeky kiss had cleared the air for good, and last night was already a point of humour between them, albeit one they would only share in private. There was no uncertainty about where they stood anymore. They were colleagues first and foremost, and he was her superior, but there was also a silent, but undeniable bond. He had a tendency to keep his team at arm's length, but he knew she had got to him quicker than most, they would be friends; Gibbs a steadying influence and safe harbour after her tumultuous past, Ziva rubbing the hard edges off his gruff personality, sneaking in around the armour he had built between himself and the world.

"Would you care for lunch Gibbs? I can make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup."

"Sounds good," he nodded as his phone rang shrilly, startling them both. "Gibbs." He said shortly, flicking it open.

"Jethro. Director Shepard. I wanted to talk to you about Liaison Officer David."

"Not a good time, Jen." Ziva made to step out of the room, offering him privacy. "Stay." He mouthed silently. If anything, she needed to hear what he'd have to say.

"You'll make time for this." Gibbs could hear the Director's eyes narrowing at him through the phone. "I know that you have found Officer David's presence on your team an imposition, although frankly I think you're being childish. However I'm prepared to move her to a different team within our facility... if only to avoid her filing a complaint for workplace harassment, or having to play peacekeeper between the two of you any longer."

"She stays, Jen." He saw the words settle on Ziva's shoulders as she stirred the pot on the stove, the infinitesimal change to her body language as she absorbed the significance of the simple sentence.

"I beg your pardon? You looked ready to finish what Morton started when you returned to the office yesterday."

"You heard me. Ziva stays." His voice was firm, inarguable.

"So does this mean you and Officer... Ziva... have talked and sorted out your differences?"

"In manner of speaking." He knew Ziva's sharp ears had picked up Jenny's incredulous tone through the handset, and she caught his eyes with a knowing smile.

"What exactly does that mean Jethro?"

"It means whatever you want it to, Jen. But Ziva stays." He rose and rounded the table to meet her as she turned from the stove to face him. His free hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her close to brush a quiet kiss on her brow, a gesture he knew would become their trademark before long. "Whatever plans you have to transfer her... can 'em. She's exactly what I need."

End