Title: How Did We Get Here?
Author: CSIGeekFan
Rating: M
Spoilers: Through "Cloak" (6x08)
Author's Note: Well, it started as a one-shot. It's being added onto, though. I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

X X X

Waking up with a beautiful woman always made Tony happy. But opening his eyes with Ziva wrapped around him filled him with contentment. Smiling down at the strands of hair that thickly covered his chest, he smiled wider and thought about the last eight months they'd been together.

He could clearly remember every encounter – every touch, every taste, every smell, but none came through so crystalline as that first night. That first time together.

X X X

Eight months ago…

The feelings she'd evoked had started long before they ever started the affair. But finding out Agent Michelle Lee had betrayed the country and Gibbs hadn't brought the team in on it, Tony felt rage boil through every cell in his body. He'd unloaded on Ziva – taken his anger at the world, and NCIS in particular out on her. It hadn't been fair, and it sure as hell hadn't been nice. He just hadn't known how to tamp it down, so instead he danced.

It had seemed like they'd been dancing forever. One-two-three, look, two-two-three, long for, three-two-three, dare not touch.

Tony had gotten sick of it all. He couldn't figure out where he'd lost his faith. Instead of being part of a team, he'd felt like an outsider wishing to be any place other than NCIS. Rather than being Gibbs' right-hand-man, he felt like a faded version of a puppet.

At the end of the day, he'd gone home to drink a beer and glower at the world in general.

Closing his eyes, Tony slumped farther into the couch, wishing the day hadn't happened.

"Gunshot went off. I saw you…" Ziva said, her voice fading...

"I'm tired of pretending," Tony replied.

"So am I."

The tension seeped through as the elevator doors slid open. With the fading adrenaline, bone-deep fatigue set in and he ground out, "It's dinner theatre for an audience of one." Walking out the door, he added, "When's the curtain go down?"

He'd left her standing alone in the elevator, knowing full well she hurt as much as he did. Yet he couldn't do a damn thing about it anymore. He was too tired, too confused, too angry about it all.

Then everything had really gone to hell. It hurt that his boss – Gibbs, the man he revered – hadn't trusted him or Ziva enough to let them in on the big plan.

Yeah, the sting had been slightly tempered when Gibbs had said he figured Tony could handle it; but doubt still sat there weighing on Tony. Maybe on a logical level he got it, but goddamn it, how many years would he have to dedicate to the job before Gibbs let him in a little more? When would he earn the right to be more than 'DiNozzo' and a smack on the back of the head?

The argument, the backing down, the sagging adrenaline all took a toll eventually. At the end of the day, Tony ended up back at his usual place – on his couch, drinking a beer, and frustrated.

Alone again.

He dared not sleep, because while he could hold the image of his beautiful Israeli partner at bay during the day, when he closed his eyes she found him. It had gotten so much worse after Vance had split up the team.

The transfer had given him too much time alone on the ship. He really doubted Ziva would understand how much those pictures of her in a bathing suit, tacked to his wall meant to him in the darkest hours. When he really wanted to crawl out of his skin, he could look or touch, and even in the distance, she calmed him – soothed the cold fury.

Taking a swig of his beer, Tony frowned, because in the dim living room she invaded his waking thoughts. The look on her face and the catch in her voice when she talked about watching him get knocked unconscious pulled at him in a way he couldn't describe.

Taking a sip, he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. With his feet propped on the coffee table, he flipped on the television and stared blankly in front of him. Another day, another fucked up dollar earned. Days like that one, he hated his job, and Tony wished more than anything he'd installed a punching bag. Part of him wanted to beat the hell out of something. Yet he couldn't seem to muster up enough energy. The shots of adrenaline had sucked him dry.

When the buzzer went off, he barely had enough energy to turn his head and stare at the front door. When it buzzed again, he finally dragged his feet down and plodded over to grab the knob. Swinging it open, he let out his breath and bit back a groan.

"What are you doing here?" he quietly asked the brunette who stood hesitantly in front of him. "Go home, Ziva."

The moment stretched on as they simply stared at one another. He really didn't have the time or patience for an interrogation. Or even a staring contest. When she didn't move or speak, Tony stepped back and grabbed the door. Intending to say good night, he never got the words out before she launched herself at him – grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt and kissing him.

It wasn't nice or gentle. Years of raw need roared through and Tony felt every ounce of his well-cultivated control slip right through his fingers. The hard gasp that erupted from her throat when he pulled open her shirt had him smiling in feral satisfaction.

He could hear her harsh breath in his ears, interrupted by mewling and whimpering noises, as he fondled the tight peaks buried under the black sheer bra he found hidden under her cotton blouse. His own heart hammered in time with his ragged breaths, and with each pulse he grew harder.

Without a word, Tony grabbed Ziva by the waist and lifted her easily to straddle him, before slamming the front door. It surprised him how light she felt – and hot. Waves of heat poured off as he stared into those eyes, black and glazed with passion.

"If you don't want this, tell me now," he rasped. As he stumbled his way to the bedroom, she kissed him in response.

He took great delight in removing her clothing. The slacks slid down enough to reveal sheer panties matching the see-through bra. There was no mistaking the moisture he found between her legs. Enthralled, he watched her firm stomach muscles shift and ripple when he ran a finger under the hem of the sheer panties. His eyes snapped up to her face though when he unceremoniously thrust a finger into her and she arched off the bed.

Tony didn't think he'd ever seen anything so erotic in his life and bit back a groan when she opened her eyes to stare at him. He watched her eyes flare as he pulled her panties down and over her feet.

Without a word, he shucked off the dark gray t-shirt he wore and slid his jeans down to his knees. One thing about having a bed a little higher off the ground – when he pulled her forward and leaned, they lined up perfectly.

He filled her with a single thrust, stopping himself only when he'd embedded every solid inch into her. The only thing that penetrated his brain at that point was the look on her face – tight with something primal. Slowly, he drew back and watched her seductively wriggle under him, almost demandingly.

This time, he plunged harder and watched her gasp and arch. It took only a few times before her hand brought his to her swollen folds to stroke and rub. Which he took great delight in doing. With every touch and squeeze of the swollen nub, Ziva squeezed him harder as he slid in and out of her slick heat.

When she came, it felt like she'd surrounded him with liquid fire. That sweet clenching made him tighten in response. Finally, with a last hard thrust that moved her up the bed, Tony poured himself into her.

Breathing hard he reached up, still fully inside her, and ran his hands over the taut peaks of Ziva's breasts. Her erratic breathing seized when he pinched and she clenched tight around his still turgid erection, milking the last of his offering.

Leaning down, he licked at the salty sweat between her breasts and rested his weight on his arms above her. The scent of her filled him and his mind was fogged enough to not really understand what the hell had happened. Only one thing clearly rang in his mind.

"Stay with me," he whispered, staring into her eyes. When she opened her mouth, he quickly laid his fingers across her lips. "Stay with me."

At her abrupt nod, Tony gathered Ziva close and maneuvered them toward the head of the bed. She fell asleep quickly, while he smiled and kissed the top of her head. He didn't have a clue where they were heading, but he couldn't deny that something existed.

The feel of her soft skin against his, the small bruise from his fingertips on her skin just a little too hard, the scent of them mingling in the air… it couldn't be wrong. Could it?