A/N: Thanks for making us feel good about this one! We're really excited to keep writing, and have some interesting ideas of where to take it.
PLEEEEEASE Review. When you don't review, we get very insecure and turn to ice cream.
"Zero six hundred," he muttered to himself, balancing the two coffees as he hit the up button for the elevator, "You are pathetic." Tony could pretend the reason he was arriving at work an hour early was because of the severity of their latest case, not to bring Ziva coffee, but there was no point in lying to himself. He knew she'd been working all night, and he was desperate to see her again, even though it had only been a few hours, so he set his alarm for an ungodly early hour and left his apartment before the sun was up.
He entered the squad room to find it empty, but her computer was on and her chair was pushed away from her desk, so he set the coffee next to her keyboard and waited. Sitting at his desk, going through the usual morning routine of turning on his computer and finding his favorite pen, Tony realized how happy he was.
"Tony!" Ziva called out, surprised. He looked up at her and took in her messy curls- it had been way too long since he had seen the curls- her tight fitted jeans, and for the love of all that was holy, his button down shirt. She was either really desperate for clothes, or trying to murder him with anticipation. His mind immediately went to the place where she was in that shirt and nothing else on his bed, those long legs stretched out, waiting to wrap around him...
Ziva smiled, almost unsure of what to do. He was looking at her. He was always looking at her; like he wanted to strangle her, like he wanted to kiss her, like he wanted to ravage her. But in this moment he was looking at her like he loved her. She smiled, almost shyly and gestured to his shirt. "Sorry," she said sheepishly, "I did not have time to go home for clothes."
Tony gave her his trademark mega watt grin and dropped a lazy wink at her. "It looks so much better on you." He told her, blatantly looking her up and down. She met his gaze with a sultry stare of her own; a twist of her lips in a half smile, a slight raise of one eyebrow, and the look she got when her eyes darkened and Tony knew her mind had gone to her dirty place. Tony' stomach tightened and coiled with butterflies and lust. She raised her arms over her head and stretched, but never dropped his gaze. Tony kept his locked on hers, wondering at what point he was going to have to vault over the desk and kiss her before he actually exploded when her phone rang.
"David." She answered, there was a pause, and she began a conversation back and forth in rapid fire Spanish Tony knew he could never follow, so he settled on watching her- intently- as she talked. The way those lips moved, and the way her eyes never stopped talking, even when she wasn't speaking; he was so screwed, and it would have terrified him, but he was too enraptured to care. Ziva turned her attention back to him as she wrapped up the call and said goodbye.
"This is for me?" she asked, pointing at the coffee, and picking it up to take a sip without waiting for a reply.
"Who was on the phone?" he asked, unable to help himself. She smirked and sipped again.
"You will find out soon enough." She said playfully, arching an eyebrow. Tony couldn't resist; he leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head.
"Very mysterious, Ziva," he said thoughtfully. "We should harness this unique skill of yours. Put all of that stealth to good use." She played along, thoughtfully tapping her index finger against her lips.
"What do you suggest?" she asked, her eyes travelling over his arms, unable to look at him sitting like that without imaging those arms around her.
"Well assassin and spy are obviously out."
Ziva waved her hand through the air and made a face to reflect boredom. "Been there, done that."
"Right. I'm thinking art heists. If anyone could break into a museum and walk out with a couple mil in priceless paintings and artifacts, it's totally you."
Ziva's face brightened. "Like the movie!" she exclaimed. "The uh, the sequel- the thief gets past all those lasers…." She trailed off, the title on the tip of her tongue. Tony was about to interject when she snapped her fingers. "Ocean's Twelve!"
Tony grinned. "Ziva David," he said, shaking his head, "You just made a movie reference. I'm proud of you, kiddo." She mocked a curtsy and offered a delicate wave.
"So this art heist venture? Would we sell it after I steal it?" she asked, earning another grin from Tony. He pretended to ponder this, rubbing his chin in a gesture of exaggerated thought.
"No, too risky," he concluded decisively. "It's so hard to move things on the Black Market these days. We'll just have really well decorated apartments."
"I'm in," Ziva said, without missing a beat. "Where should start? The Louve?" She immediately shook her head in answer to her own question. "No, the Uffizi gallery in Florence."
Tony leaned forward and slapped a hand on his desk. "Bingo! I'll book a flight."
"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, strolling into the squad room. Tony shared a private smile with Ziva and stood up.
"Absolutely not boss."
Gibbs ignored him and looked at Ziva, who gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. "DiNozzo, wait here for McGee. When he decides to join us, I want you two in the Director's office. David, you're with me." Tony watched as they ascended the stairs, his brow furrowing when Fornell dashed out of the elevator and joined them.
Ziva found herself sitting around a table with Gibbs, Fornell and Vance, and they were all looking at her expectantly. "Shortly before coming to NCIS, I was assigned to a Mossad team in Colombia."
"What was the purpose of the mission?" Vance asked, leaning forward.
"To identify and track members of Hamas and al Qaeda who were gathering information to judge whether drug cartels would be allies, and how easily they could arrange for passage into the United States through drug routes."
Gibbs felt a familiar pull in his gut and he knew he had been right about this. There was much more going on than drug dealers smuggling weapons. Fornell started to speak, but Ziva shook her head.
"There is more," she said her tone grave. Vance nodded at her to continue. "I was assigned to one individual in particular."
"Hamas or al Qaeda?" Gibbs asked.
"We do not know. All we know about this man is what he looks like, that he is a Muslim, and certainly a terrorist, but perhaps not a jihadist."
"I didn't realize you could pick and choose." Fornell said, arching an eyebrow.
"He spent several years in Paris," Ziva continued, "And comes from a wealthy family. He drinks, he wears expensive clothes, and he has a hand in several business ventures." She took a deep breath. "He has sex with multiple women, he has girlfriends. He's eradicated everything about him that might make someone suspicious."
"What was the outcome of the mission?" Vance asked.
Ziva hesitated. "Nine years ago, I was assigned to seduce him, extract as much information as possible and then kill him. He is alive because we discovered he was in charge of establishing a relationship with Colombian cartels. The ultimate goal, we believed was to execute entry into the United States and a subsequent terrorist attack."
Ziva stopped talking abruptly, and Gibbs was surprised to see that she looked nervous. It was probably classified Mossad secrets that she was currently spilling, but Gibbs didn't get the sense that was bothering her. He met her gaze and sized her up, impressed for the hundredth time by the determination that showed as she maintained eye contact. "What does your gut tell you, Ziva?" he asked.
She paused for a minute before answering, choosing her words carefully. "He was… taken with me," she said slowly. "I believe if he knew where to find me…" she trailed off.
"We could put her undercover." Vance suggested.
"Well, yea, Leon," Gibbs said, suppressing an eye roll, "That's exactly what I was thinking." Ziva arched an eyebrow at Gibbs and met his eyes, but Fornell was shaking his head.
"I don't like it," he said firmly. "One agent undercover alone spells trouble."
Gibbs smiled. "Watch out Tobias. You'd hate for me to start thinking you care about my agents." Fornell snorted in response, but Vance was nodding.
"He's right. If we go in undercover, I want a team of two. Now, the ship that was carrying the weapons was coming in and out of Cartagena, so let's use that." Gibbs nodded at Vance and sipped his coffee. Ziva recognized his expression as his thinking face, and not up for another head slap, she waited for him to speak first.
"We send DiNozzo in as a DOD oversight official." Gibbs said, "That explains why he's in Cartagena, he's checking out the place after the smuggling. We'll make him a little rough around the edges, so if there's something going down, there's a better chance he'll hear about it."
Ziva smirked in spite of herself. "If there's one thing DiNozzo can handle, it's being rough around the edges."
"Ziva, you're making me blush." Tony said without missing a beat as he walked in with McGee. He winked at her as he settled into the chair between her and Gibbs. "So, what's the big secret?"
McGee sighed as they pulled up in front of Ziva's building. They were flying commercial to Miami, then switching to various other forms of transport to Colombia to protect their covers. Not that he really had a cover. He was going as a sailor on Navy ship, just in case, but Tony and Ziva were the ones who had major covers to pull off. McGee shot a sidelong glance at Tony. He was obviously excited, and in a really good mood. He honked several times as they waited for Ziva, and McGee winced. Ziva David did not strike him as someone who would take kindly to being honked at.
Tony eyed him expectantly and McGee remembered why he was sighing in the first place. He opened the door and climbed out of the front seat of the Mustang and headed for the back. There was no discussion or argument; that was simply the way it was. The front seat was Ziva's territory.
McGee watched his teammates carefully as Ziva glided out of the front door, put her luggage into the trunk Tony had opened and slid into the car. Tony never took his eyes off of her, and to McGee's surprise, Ziva seemed acutely aware of and pleased by this fact. She didn't even berate Tony for honking at her.
"I gotta say I'm pretty excited about this." Tony said as they headed for Reagan International.
McGee made a face. "Terrorists and danger undercover missions excite you?" he asked dubiously.
"Yes." Tony and Ziva answered in unison. McGee sighed; they obviously had a gene that he didn't get.
"Foreign country, intrigue, mystery, not to mention whatever Ziva's got in that suitcase," Tony said, shooting a suggestive sidelong glance at his partner. She returned the look from over top of her sunglasses. "Kind of reminds me of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. The opening scene, where they meet in that jungle."
"Ziva, you do pull off an Angelina vibe." McGee admitted. Ziva turned around without missing a beat.
"Would that make Tony Brad Pitt?" she asked playfully. McGee blinked. He had been expecting confusion.
"And Probie is Vince Vaughn." Tony concluded.
"He was my favorite character, McGee." Ziva supplied helpfully.
"You've seen the movie?" McGee asked her, still not sure where this was coming from.
"Twice," She confirmed. "We watched it, and then Tony snuck it back onto our list."
"Your list?" McGee repeated, suddenly feeling very out of the loop. He had clearly missed something. When she had first come back, Tony and Ziva bickered all the time, more than usual even, and McGee had more than once had the feeling Ziva really couldn't stand him. But not anymore, apparently.
"Don't worry Probie," Tony said suddenly, "This won't be that dangerous. Ziva and I will keep you safe. You know she's been helping me brush up on my Spanish?" he said, earning another grin from Ziva.
"What does that have to do with your list?"
"Focus McGee!" Tony commanded, smacking his hand on the dashboard. "The list is for movies. The Spanish is for the mission. I'm getting pretty good too."
Ziva snorted. "I think the poor employee at Taco Bell who suffered through your attempts to slur an order in Spanish would disagree." She said.
"That is entirely your fault," Tony shot back, "You shouldn't have taught me dos tequila por favor." McGee sighed again. He wasn't sure what had gotten into these two, but it was going to be a really long trip.
Tony sat on the plane with his mind racing. As they taxied down the runway, he felt like he had pure adrenaline pumping through his veins. He stole a glance at Ziva and grinned so hard his cheeks actually hurt. The anticipation was intoxicating, and he couldn't get enough of it. Anthony DiNozzo was certain this was it, more certain of it than anything else in his life; they were going to work this out, figure this out, and finally stop dancing around the feelings that had been there for years. The plane left the runway and Tony pressed his face against the window like he had when he was a little kid, and watched DC get smaller and smaller until he couldn't see it through the clouds.
When the view was completely obscured, he turned to Ziva and let his fingers brush against hers on their shared arm rest.
"Buckle up." he told her. This was going to be one hell of a ride.