Established Tiva; Tony and Ziva, a beach vacation, a lifeguard messing with Tony's ego.


Self-consciously touching his stomach, before quickly crossing his arms, Tony wondered whether he should have eaten that second doughnut. Not being intimated by the 15 year younger lifeguard currently engaged in an animated conversation with Ziva, proved to be hard. What that conversation was about, he couldn't tell you; he'd been fighting off the green-eyed monster ever since the Baywatch-runaway struck a ridiculous pose—flexing muscles Tony wasn't sure he even had—and sparking Ziva's interest.

The desire to drape an arm around her shoulder and stake his claim was strong, but he knew Ziva wouldn't appreciate the gesture. He'd never really felt a need to do so before, and vaguely wondered what had brought on this possessiveness. Maybe he shouldn't have fallen asleep while watching a documentary about a pride of lions.

Ziva touched his arm, pulling him out of his green haze. "We should do that tonight," she said, all wide-eyed and glowing in the late afternoon sun.

"We should," he agreed, fake smile plastered all over his face, hoping he hadn't just agreed to go skydiving. Ziva had a tendency to get excited over the weirdest, deadliest things. A light-bulb went on; the look she had given the lifeguard, was similar to that time he showed her a video of someone shooting tracer bullets in the desert.

Tension left his body as Ziva's thumb slowly caressed his arm. What had he even been worried about.

The lifeguard flipped back his long, sun-bleached hair, and flexed his pecs.

Oh right, that.

Before he had a chance to once again worry about his own physique, not to mention his age, Ziva ended the conversation and they parted ways.

Leaving the lifeguard tower behind them, he focused on the warm sand beneath his feet, and Ziva's close proximity, her naked arm practically glued to his.

Curiosity got the better of him, it always did, and he couldn't resist commenting, "You seemed to really admire Mr. Baywatch back there."

She frowned, keeping her eyes on the horizon, as waves rippled closer and closer to their feet.

"When he started flexing his big, bulging muscles," he continued lightheartedly.

She snorted, but otherwise ignored him.

"Admit it, you admire muscular men."

She stopped and tilted her head, brows furrowed. "I do, it requires a lot of dedication to get into that kind of shape."

He broke eye contact, watched two seagulls squabble over an abandoned sandwich. "Are you implying I lack dedication?" He had managed to keep his voice light, smile even, but he couldn't deny the thought of Ziva thinking less of him bothered him.

She narrowed her eyes and smiled softly. "No, of course not, you are extremely dedicated, just to other things." She grabbed hold of his hand. "More important things."

"Like what?" He met her gaze, unprepared for the depth of emotion reflected there. No lifeguard could ever save him from drowning in her eyes.

"Me," she stated matter-of-factly, as waves gently lapped at their feet.

His face split into a grin, "Oh, I'm hopelessly dedicated to you."

"I've noticed." She stepped closer, slid her hands up his bare chest and around his neck.

"Were you impressed by his life-saving skills?" Hands itching to touch her finally found their way to her waist, pulling her against him, skin to skin.

Ziva chuckled. "He might be good at saving people from drowning, but you are the only one who managed to save me from myself."

His lips parted and he blinked rapidly, blaming his suddenly weak legs on the ocean and the sand.

She pulled him down, her warm, soft lips briefly caressed his, as his heartbeat drowned out the pulsing sea.

"I love you", she whispered against his lips, before kissing him desperately, engulfing his soul as the water engulfed their feet, grounding them, keeping them together.

The seagulls angry squawking burst their bubble.

"We should head back to the hotel." Her eyes slid shut briefly as he kissed the tip of her nose. "We need to get ready for tonight."

Unwilling to let her know he hadn't been listening, he put an arm around her shoulder and started walking again. "How long do you think it'll take to get ready?"

Her arm went around his waist, he felt her shrug. "As long as it takes to throw on some clothes. There will be food at the dance."

He looked down at her, relieved. "Then we can stay here a while longer."

She met his gaze, eyes a swirling pool of desire, and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. "Sand gets everywhere, Tony, it will take a few hours to get rid of every last grain."