She's benched temporarily. An order Gibbs made three days later and Tony wholeheartedly agreed with. And to his surprise, Ziva doesn't put up a fight. Though he knows it's because she still feels guilty about the entire thing, (Abby still won't talk to her) but she seems to liken to the time alone, time to organize and clean, prepare for the baby.
But two months pass and this routine has reached the point where she's rearranged the contents of his kitchen cabinets five times, (he's given up asking where things are and she snaps at him when he does anyway.) She's written list upon list of the things they still need to buy, change for when the baby comes, to the point where she's put them all in a labeled folder (s') and the go bag for the hospital is already packed and ready.
Her belly was growing almost by the day along with her temper; he only had to look at her face to guess the type of mood she was in. She interrogates him the second he walks through the door on the particular case they were currently working on and she visits the base when she can but it's not the same. She was getting restless, her energy flooding the walls of his apartment. And he knew it wasn't fair, that she was stuck and uncomfortable but still, it wasn't exactly joy to live with.
She's bitching at him. Again. From three rooms away one Sunday afternoon and he reminds himself as he rolls his eyes that she was pregnant and it was his fault.
His fault.
"What is it honey? You need something, some crackers, water, a pillow I can smoother you with?" He rubs the back of his neck as he rounds the corner of their bedroom to find her splayed out on the carpet in just a t-shirt, her hair the river and her belly the mountain top. She groans loudly and smacks the floor with both fists.
"Why did you get me pregnant? Why? I am never having sex with you again no matter how much I want it. Ever. I hate you and I hate sex." She lets out a string of obscenities in Hebrew.
He chuckles and lifts off the doorway, crouching down to lay beside her, "You're going to take that back in another 3 months."
She glares at him icily, bending her head forward, the only thing she can easily move.
"I hate you."
He leans across to kiss her nose and she wriggles out of reach, "Come on baby, I know you're hormonal and you're Ziva but this isn't you, what's wrong?"
She let's out a splutter, her sigh a roll of words, "I'm just so sick of it. I cannot do anything, we cannot even sleep together anymore." Her voice softens, her eyes filled with tears.
"I just feel so helpless. Hopeless. Both." She whispers.
Tony looks across her face for a moment. He was waiting for this, he knew her, probably better than himself and she was a restless person. She had to be moving, doing, working. He hated it almost, for her. It was like she had no control and Ziva, Ziva was always the one with control. It made him anxious; he had almost been as restless over the past two months as she was. A change, a familiar one would be a welcoming distraction (from her mood, mostly he hopes.)
So with a smile he rubs his nose against her collarbone, easing himself closer.
"Gibbs was saying something about finding a replacement the other day."
He gets a death stare and then a huff, which he merely chuckles at, sliding his fingers beneath her shirt and along her stomach.
"You're a badass investigator, kickass interrogator and we'd have to tie you to your desk but…we need you baby, hormones and elephant tummy and all."
She slaps his arm but a small breaks across her face, the first one he's seen in days. It's worth the worry currently creeping its way back into his system at the prospect of her being back in the NCIS fold.
"Really?"
He kisses her the best way he can, still laying with his stomach to the floor and she moans long and deep into his month, scratching her nails along his hair.
"And as for this no sex business…" He rolls up, grinning as she bites her tongue, letting her hands extend to either side of her.
Like it's the most delicate piece of material in the world, he slowly and carefully rolls her t-shirt, with just the tips of his fingers, up and up until her breasts are exposed. She tries to keep still, biting her top lip over her bottom on a wide grin, her goose bumps already pouring across her arms and legs as he brushes his hands down towards her navel.
He moves, kneeling for better access and her foot folds around his butt, bringing him closer. He hangs his head down, letting his tongue barely touch her skin.
She chuckles lazily as he lets out a muffled moan against her belly button, "Come on baby girl, lemme make love to your mama."
It dies down immediately as he begins to lick his way down the curve of her belly, meeting the plane of her hips and down between her legs. He wraps an arm around either knee and pulls her gently forward.
"So you were saying…?" He growls, breathing across her until he flicks out his tongue.
She opens her mouth, breathless but whatever word she had going through her mind, conscious thought to what he had said completely vanishes as he sucks her full into his mouth, shoves his tongue right into her without hesitation and she gasps so violently that her back bucks off the ground.
"Fuck, me." She pants and she can hear him laughing, the vibration of it hitting her open and wet skin.
"Ah, you gotta say the magic word, Ziva." He mumbles now scooping a thigh around his arm, opening her wider.
She shifts forward, as much as she can, lifting herself off the floor as she moans, rolling a nipple between her fingers.
"Please,Tony."
He flicks his tongue, sliding in one finger and then two before she's finished.
She comes hard soon after that, crazy and wild noises falling right out of her mouth and it's so delicious and wonderful that his eyes almost roll to the back of his head, he's hard against his jeans as he rests against one of her thighs.
"Couch." She mutters finally, her eyes still closed, her cheeks pink.
He shakes his head as she pushes herself up; unhooking the shirt from her neck, sweat covering her naked body. And looking at him, she slowly unbuttons his shirt, peeling back the arms. Then unbuckling his pants, sliding down the zipper she pulls them all the way to the floor without batting an eyelid.
"No." He tries to bite out but it's weak and thick with want.
She steps away and eyes him, tossing her hair over her shoulder wickedly and swaying her hips way like she was the sexiest thing alive (she is, goddamn her, she is) she turns and grips both hands to the arm of the couch. Easing herself forwards, she spreads her legs wide until she's so far forward her elbows are now against the arm, her big belly dipping with her ass up.
He's over there, coming up behind her before he can think and he rubs his hand teasingly over her ass. Both hands reach around, flat against her belly, as he brushes against her. He grunts, needing to move a little and he almost knocks her down but he has a secure hold of her hip, one hand still on her belly.
"Golove." She chides through her teeth and she curls a foot around his as he pushes further in, so easy and quick he needs to grip to her tighter.
As he rocks them, a quick, constant rhythm, she somehow finds a way to press herself closer and he's hitting her so hard in places, her head almost drops to the couch. She comes before he does, the string of her moans and sighs setting out his release, barely thrusting as he does, stars and her skin splitting his vision.
After a moment, their stammered and satisfied breathing filling the air, he lifts her gently up. Their bodies sticking to one another as he encircles her waist and she drops her head lazily against his shoulder, laughing, warmly, openly and he swears he can feel it; the way her belly moves, their daughter, with it all.
"Hopeless my ass."