Today's prompt: Sailing

Tiva, lazy-ass follow-up to yesterday's fic. I wasn't going to write follow-ups, but I was going to write 30 consecutive days and that didn't happen either, so, if you're going to fail, you may as well fail on all fronts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


It should have looked like the cover of Sports Illustrated, really; Ziva and Borin clad in bikinis, hair flowing freely in the wind, toned muscles flexing with every move. Yet every time his gaze wandered to Ziva's back, fully intent on getting an eye full of her ass, the nasty bruise between her shoulder blades drew his attention like a bullseye. He clenched his jaw, at the ugly reminder.

Ziva tried to look over her shoulder to meet his eyes, but grimaced and turned her whole body instead. He flexed his fingers, images of him pounding the guy who shot her to a pulp flashed before his eyes. It would never happen, she wouldn't let him, but that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about it every time he was reminded of how close he had gotten to losing her.

"DiNozzo, bring me a beer," Borin shouted.

He stared at Ziva a moment longer, her quizzical look calming his anger. Grabbing a beer from the cooler he walked to the bow of the boat and handed Borin the drink. "I'm not your personal errand boy, you know," he said lightly.

Borin smirked. "If you were you'd have a body like Palmer's." She tipped the beer bottle in Palmer's direction, then looked at Ziva with raised eyebrows. "Who knew, right?"

He rolled his eyes as Ziva snickered, then rubbed at the onset of stiffness in his neck.

"Is the Dramamine not working?" Ziva said quietly and searched his face. "You look a bit queasy."

He forced a smile, the last thing he wanted was to cause her any worry. "No it's working fine, and thanks for reminding me this morning to take it."

Borin made a sound of approval and beamed at them. Tony had a sinking feeling in his stomach that no amount of motion sickness medicine could cure. Ziva merely frowned at her.

One look at his face told Borin everything she needed to know. "Seriously, nothing still?" She pinched her lips together and shook her head.

Ziva frowned and looked between her two friends. "What?"

"You were lucky you were wearing your back plate when you got shot." She glanced at Tony meaningfully.

"It is only common sense to wear both plates, regardless of how warm it is," Ziva replied.

"Hmm, could've sworn common sense was in short supply at NCIS." She gave both of them a pointed look, then walked off.

"I thought this trip was supposed to be a celebration of cooperation, you're not sounding very cooperative, agent Borin," Tony jeered.

She flipped him off and he chortled, turning his attention back to Ziva.

Running her hands through her hair in an effort to keep it out of her face, she gave up and turned against the wind, avoiding eye contact. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped short.

His gaze drifted to the bruise on her back, Borin's words ringing in his ears. He fleetingly touched the small of her back, needing physical evidence that she was still with him. The relief he had felt when her heartbeat had pulsed against his fingertips two days ago rushed back like a tidal wave.

He rubbed his forehead and stared at the horizon, trying to gather his thoughts.

"What was that about?" Ziva asked glancing at Borin.

He looked at his feet and rubbed his neck. The hospital had seemed like the wrong place to broach the subject. And then when he took her home and declared he was crashing on her couch because he was too tired to drive home—no, not to keep an eye on you, Ziva, psh—she was too high on painkillers to have remembered anything he would have said.

Scanning her profile to gauge her mood he was none the wiser. She refused to look at him.

"How do you feel?" He probed.

"I'm fine." She closed her eyes briefly and deflated, offering him a small smile.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, careful to keep his distance from the purple and blue marring her skin.

She caught him staring at the bruise, and admitted quietly, "I did get lucky."

He inhaled deeply before clenching his jaw. Not trusting his voice, he met her eyes and nodded stiffly. She bit her lip and looked away. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder without thinking, drawing her attention again.

She looked at him with prying eyes, making his smile waver. He glanced at their teammates, well out of hearing distance, oblivious to the two of them standing a little too close, gazing at each other a little too intently—not that any of them would have batted an eye at that anymore. Borin on the other hand was staring him down from across the deck.

Locking eyes with Ziva, he resisted the urge to kiss her shoulder again, opting to run his thumb over the spot he had just kissed. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

She gave him a tight smile, then asked, "What happened between you and Borin?"

He let out a chuckle, Ziva could be like a hound dog on a hot trail, impossible to distract. "She was right about the lack of common sense."

She huffed, standing up a little straighter. "We broke the case."

He smiled softly, and slid his hand from her shoulder, down her arm, to hold her hand. "She wasn't talking about the case, Ziva."

Ziva's lips parted slightly, her eyes sparkled with hopefulness, encouraging him to say what he had been longing to say for so long.

"Life is short, and we've wasted so much of it already." Her fingers played with his, making his stomach flutter. "I kept waiting for the right time." He frowned, remembering they were on a boat full of co-workers. "This clearly isn't it," he said with a chuckle.

She entwined her fingers with his, and looked up at him with a soft expression. "Perhaps any time, that is not too late, is the right time."


A/N: I don't remember seeing the episodes with Borin more than once, and that was years ago, so apologies if she's out of character.