A/N: This chapter is set between "Probie" and "Model Behavior".
The third time they sleep together, it's needy, rough, passionate. At what point does passion translate into emotion?
Ziva is knee deep in following up leads from the tip line when she sees Tony approaching in her peripheral vision. "Can I help you with something, Agent DiNozzo?" she asks, clicking on a new link and then making an annoyed chuffing noise when it immediately becomes clear that this particular tip is bogus.
"Do you know what time it is?" Tony answers. Ziva finally looks up at him, moderately annoyed with him for interrupting when she's already running behind on a task that's so mind-numbing.
"Eh, it is… 14:08," she answers after a quick look at the clock. "Why?"
There's an a smug look on his face that makes her want to Gibbs slap him. "Normal humans have to eat to sustain themselves, Officer David. I can't help but notice that you haven't gone to get lunch."
"I have not yet had the time, Tony," she answers, making a face and a little waving motion at him to strongly hint that he needs to go away.
"No time to find lunch, or no time to eat it?" he answers, disregarding her shooing.
"No time to find it. I can work while I eat, but I cannot work while I drive. You know that Gibbs will expect answers when he returns from MTAC, and so far I have nothing. Actually, it is hard to talk while I work, too, so how about you let me return to it?"
Tony chuckles, totally unaffected by her sour mood, and drops a bag onto her desk. "What is this?" she demands.
"Look and see," Tony says comfortably, sticking his hands in his pockets and waiting for her to open it.
Open it she does, and inside, she finds food… but it's not just any food. It's all food from home. She pulls out lafa bread, hummus, stuffed vine leaves, and a bottle of pomegranate juice. She looks up at Tony, gaping slightly. "Where did you get all of this?"
"I used the new GPS thing McGeek installed on my phone to find an Israeli restaurant that was on my way back from interviewing Ensign Talbot." He sounds casual, but Ziva can tell that he's pleased with how well his gesture is going over.
She can't help but smile widely at him, bad mood forgotten. "Thank you, Tony," she says sincerely.
He grins back and returns to his desk. Ziva digs in—it's quite good, and she makes a mental note to get the name of the restaurant for the next time she's feeling homesick. She gets back to work as she eats, and the task feels less menial than before.
When she reaches a natural stopping point, she stands up to stretch and go to the toilet, but before leaving the bullpen, she stops at Tony's desk. "Why did you buy me lunch?" she wants to know.
"Don't flatter yourself, Ziva. It wasn't just for you. Got food for boss 'n McGee, too." He tilts his head at her as he says it, though, and she gets what he's not saying—he may have bought food for the whole team, but the gesture is meant for her. It isn't unusual for her, McGee, Tony, and sometimes Gibbs to take turns buying lunch when things are leisurely enough in the office for one or more of them to make a dedicated food run, but Ziva knows that this time is a little different.
"Good, isn't it?" McGee adds while holding up a falafel wrap as proof, having been half-paying attention to his partners' conversation as he looks through financial records on his computer. It's enough to snap Ziva and Tony out of the little moment of intense eye contact that they're sharing, and Ziva makes her way to the women's toilets as she'd planned to do.
On her way back, though, McGee has stepped out for something and it's just her and Tony in their immediate area. She opens her mouth to speak, but he beats her to it. "Figured it was my turn to buy you a meal," he says in a low voice with a smile.
She wouldn't be able to stop herself from beaming back at him if she tried, and she's not about to. "If you are not careful, Tony, I might be tricked into thinking that you like me." She adds a wink for extra flair.
He laughs loudly and then covers his mouth, looking around to see if anyone can hear. Though it's true that there are no official rules against romantic relationships in the office and it's also true that the most important person—Gibbs—already knows, he doesn't exactly want to advertise what they're doing on their time off. "You didn't get that before when I was tugging your pigtails on the playground?"
"Oh, is that what that was about?"
"What what was about?" comes Gibbs' stern voice from above their heads, and they look up. He's standing at the railing outside of MTAC and giving them a hard look, telling them without words to keep their personal conversations out of the office.
How does he always know?
As the work day draws to a close, Tony watches as McGee departs and then Gibbs leaves. He's completing a report himself—he's never one to work on the weekends, if he can help it—and he's nearly finished.
He's just looking it over one last time when Ziva calls out to say good night, her bag slung over her shoulder. "Headed out?" he asks.
She nods.
"If you'll give me about two minutes, I'll walk out with you. I just want to get this report on Gibbs' desk so I don't have hell to pay come Monday."
"Sure," Ziva agrees and leans against the window to wait as he finishes.
Once he's done, he flips off his desk lamp and grabs his things, too, and then they walk to the elevator together. "So, Ziva, I was thinking."
"Were you?" she says with her eyebrows raised, revealing nothing but idle curiosity.
"I was," he confirms, hitting the button for the ground floor. "I was thinking that you and I should hit a bar tonight and… talk."
"Sounds ominous," Ziva observes, but she shrugs. "Alright. I did not otherwise have any solid plans for the evening anyway."
"Good," Tony replies. "Well, not good that you don't have a thrilling Friday night plan, but good that you're game to hang out with me." He rubs the back of his head, feeling ever-so-slightly wrongfooted. He isn't used to being uncertain around women.
"I will 'hang out' with you at least until I get a better offer," Ziva teases in reply as the elevator reaches their floor.
Tony pulls out his car keys, leading the way toward the parking lot and chuckling. "Well, assuming no cool plans crop up in the meantime, I'll meet you in a few minutes." He gives her the name and address of his favorite bar and they head to their separate cars.
Twenty minutes later, they're sitting in a little corner booth, having beat the Friday evening crowd by arriving prior to 7:00. They idly chat about the case they just wrapped up until they get their drinks, and then Tony leans back, draping an arm across the back of his seat and eyeing Ziva speculatively.
"So, David," he starts with a confidence that he doesn't really feel. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"Right now?" Ziva clearly knows what he's getting at, but if she didn't take the opportunity to annoy him at every opportunity, she just wouldn't be the partner he likes so much. "A high blood alcohol level."
"Ha ha," he says sarcastically. "You know what I mean."
"Do I?" she challenges. "If you want to know so badly, perhaps you should answer your own question first. What is it that you are looking for?"
Tony thinks that's a fair request, so he shrugs and starts with something he's been thinking about. "Well, we've had sex twice, and it's been…" He laughs, something suggestive in his tone. "I'd say it's been phenomenal."
Ziva wrinkles her nose and makes a so-so gesture in his direction and then giggles when he throws a napkin at her. He's never heard her laugh like that and he's struck by the urge to get her to do it again and again.
"You might disagree," he says, still smiling, "but I think it's been an enjoyable venture into… shall we say intraoffice relations?" She nods, not disagreeing this time. "I guess I was wondering if that was something you'd be interested in maybe doing again later. Maybe more than once."
"I could probably be persuaded," she admits, smirking.
He reaches across the table to flick her arm and she grabs and twists his hand out of reflex. "Ow!" he squeaks, and she lets his hand go with an apology. "Come on, Ziva, answer me seriously here."
She smiles again, shrugging. "Yes. I enjoyed it, and I would be very open to doing it again."
Tony nods, massaging his hand. "Okay, that's what I wanted to know. You're not really after a relationship, right?"
Ziva considers this for a moment and shakes her head. "No, I am not. I do not know how long Director Shepard will have me here, and there seems to be little point in trying to establish something permanent on a temporary foundation."
Tony hasn't even considered that, and he concedes to her point. The Mossad liaison position could exist forever or it could be ended tomorrow, so Ziva is wise to keep that in mind. "Right, okay. So you're open to sleeping with a certain Very Special Agent but you don't want a boyfriend. Next question—are you sleeping with anyone else right now?"
Ziva's face contorts into an angry expression and just as she's about to loudly assert that it's none of his business, he holds his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, didn't ask that quite right. You don't really have to answer, and I'm not judging either way. I just mean… if you're not, we could…" he trails off, thinking. Ziva waits for him to finish his thought, annoyed. "Okay, let me put it this way," Tony finally says. "I haven't slept with anyone else since the first time you and I slept together a few weeks ago, and if you're open to the idea… we could agree that for now, we're only sleeping with each other. That way, we can get tested as soon as possible and we won't have to worry about STDs and the like."
"That is… surprisingly grown up of you, Tony," Ziva answers, sounding mildly impressed. "No, I have no immediate plans to sleep with anyone else, and your idea sounds agreeable."
Tony nods, pleased with the fact that she didn't shoot him, and leans forward again happily. "So we're agreeing to be… what, friends with benefits?"
"I do not know," Ziva retorts, back to her usual sassy disposition. "Are we really friends, Tony?"
"You wound me!" Tony cries, louder than he means to. Several heads turn around to look at him and it takes him a moment to notice that Ziva's giggling again—it's adorable.
"Wounding—now that sounds more like our relationship."
He laughs, too. "Partners with benefits?" he suggests. "Coworkers with benefits?"
"Ah, call it what you want to. I agree to it, whatever it might be."
"That's music to my ears, Ziva David." They grin at each other and it strikes Tony that they've developed some sort of kinship that goes deeper than sex. He finds himself awfully glad to have her in his life, something he rarely stops to think about when it comes to sexual partners.
"Tony, it appears that we have reached a spoon in the road."
"I think you mean a fork in the road."
"Whatever. My point is that we have options here—either we stay here and drink, or…" she lowers her voice and leans in to make sure they're not overheard. "We return to my apartment and celebrate our new partnership."
In answer, Tony knocks back the rest of his whiskey like it's a shot and stands up. Ziva laughs and takes a little more time to finish her drink, but soon, she's ready to go, too. Time to put their new agreement to the test.
In the end, they barely make it inside Ziva's apartment before engaging in behavior that is decidedly not public-friendly. They drive separately to her building, Tony following since this is the first time he's been. By the time he's found a visitor's space to park in, Ziva is standing impatiently by his door, waiting for him to get out. As soon as he does, she's shoving him into the side of his car and locking her lips on his.
For a dizzying moment, Tony gets lost in thinking about how hot it would be to be arrested by her.
Once he has his bearings, he has enough presence of mind to quickly flip the script and twist them around so she's the one being pressed against the car. He rolls his hips against her stomach as they kiss, letting her feel precisely what she's doing to him. Hearing her moans, however, he remembers that they're still in public, and he regretfully breaks the kiss and pulls away from her. He can just see the look on Gibbs' face if he had to come bail them out for public indecency.
Shoving that thought aside, Tony does slide his arm around Ziva's waist and pull her snugly to his side.
They stumble inside, both a little giddy, and as soon as the elevator doors close behind them, Ziva is jumping on him again. This time she's considerably handsier, reaching down to cup him through his jeans and murmuring her approval in his ear. Her lips attach to his neck and he just knows he's going to end up with a hickey. Hopefully it'll fade by Monday, but he can't bring himself to care right now.
One of his hands ends up tangled in her hair and the other feels up one of her breasts through her shirt. Then, unfortunately, the elevator doors are dinging open.
Ziva seems much more with it than he is right now, because she doesn't hesitate to grab his hand and tug him toward her apartment door. "Holy shit, Ziva, I can barely walk, give me a minute!" he mutters, but he follows with zero real complaints.
Somehow, Ziva gets her door open without dropping Tony's hand, and she pulls him inside with great haste. Then they're kissing again, shutting the door with their bodies as Ziva pushes Tony against a hard surface for the third time in less than ten minutes. This time it's Tony who reaches down below, though, and he unbuttons and unzips her pants. Shoving them down, he finds some very pretty underwear that he would guess are meant for this express purpose.
He wonders how it would feel for her if he rubbed her over the lace; as soon as he does, she bites his lower lip and digs her fingernails into his shoulder. He can't remember the last time something hurt so good.
Encouraged, he does it again and harder. He's immediately rewarded by the exquisite feeling of Ziva David groaning "fuck!" against his lips. Seeking retaliation, she goes for his belt buckle. She makes sure to make as much contact with his aching cock as possible as she rids him of every bit of clothing covering his lower half.
He has to break the kiss to breathe, and when he does, he's gasping. Ziva wraps her hot little hand around him and his head falls back against the door with a solid thunk—he feels completely incoherent, and he's absolutely at her mercy. That feeling only increases when she drops to her knees in front of him, and, pausing only to look up at him and make an innocent face, she pulls him into her mouth. "Ziva!" he gasps. He's not actually sure he can continue to stand for much longer; his knees are starting to feel rather weak.
His hands move of their own power to get lost in her curls. Holy shit, she's good at this!
He can't take it for very long, though, because the last thing he wants is to come in her mouth… well, that's not entirely true. He wants to come in her mouth and he wants to do it every day for the rest of forever until he dies, but he wants her to feel thoroughly fucked before that happens.
He pulls back lightly on her hair to get her attention and when she looks up, he reaches down to pull her gently away and to her feet. He leans down to whisper in her ear once she's at her full height. "I would very much like to shove you against this door and ravish you until all your neighbors hear you crying out my name," he breathes. "What d'you say?"
"What are you waiting for?" she challenges, raising an eyebrow, and in answer, he immediately whips both of them around to change their positions.
She starts to lift a leg up to wrap around behind him, but he stops her. "This is our third try," he tells her with a slightly strained voice. "I think that by now we can figure out how to be completely naked when we fuck."
Ziva lets out a throaty laugh and her hands move to the buttons of her shirt, but he gently brushes her hands away, wanting to do it himself. It doesn't take long to get it off and he's luckily very skilled at taking bras off, but that still leaves behind her delicious little panties. He drops to his knees, grinning up at her, and very slowly peels the offending garment down her legs. He's gratified to notice that they're soaked through, and he presses a few kisses to the insides of Ziva's thighs as he stands back up.
Ziva seems to want to return the favor because she doesn't let him unbutton his own shirt or pull his undershirt off. She does it with an almost predatory look on her face and he thinks she might be the sexiest woman he's ever met.
She offers up a condom and he wonders again where she was keeping it, but that's so unimportant right now as she rolls it onto him. He presses against her once more, hard, kissing her as he goes. Only then does he let her prop her leg around him so her heat is in the perfect place.
He positions himself and slides in to the sound of her little moans of encouragement; thrusting into her feels like the most natural thing in the world. Even through the condom, she feels so entirely warm and they slide together so smoothly that it's easy to imagine how slick she would feel on him if the condom wasn't there.
With every thrust, the door thuds on its hinges, and true to his word, Tony does his damnedest to get Ziva crying out his name. Luckily, she's a yeller by nature, and hearing "Tony" in her husky voice nearly has him coming undone then and there.
He's determined to last longer this time, though, embarrassed as he is by coming so quickly the first time, so he draws it out as much as he can. Ziva starts to make noises that sound almost like whimpers, though, and he isn't one to deny what she clearly wants.
Careful to keep them both balanced against the door, he changes his angle so that he's grinding against her clit as he thrusts. Three times in and out like that and Ziva breaks apart, a long, low moan sliding from her throat as she does. It sends Tony over the edge, too, and for the first time, they orgasm together.
Holy shit.
When they're both done, Tony drops his head to Ziva's shoulder for a moment, exhausted and utterly satisfied. She doesn't protest; in fact, she leans her head over until it's resting against his own. The intimacy of this moment should scare Tony, but it doesn't. He wants more instead.
He peels her away from the door and pulls her into a sweaty hug that's full of affection. She lets out a tired chuckle and hugs him back.
When he leaves for the evening, Tony steps out into the hall at the same time as an ornery-looking middle-aged woman from the apartment across the hall. He gives her a small, polite smile and nod along with a little wave, but it just deepens her frown.
"Tony, I presume?" she growls at him as they step onto the elevator together.
His answering smile is blinding.