A/N: A Helping Hand was supposed to be a one shot, even though I had this second chapter running on repeat in my mind from the beginning. After the feedback I've received, I realized my explicit writing wasn't as bad as I originally thought and decided to go ahead and try and write the second chapter down.
I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading, favoriting, following or leaving feedback on my stories. It means a lot to me, and has made the difference between throwing in the towel and trying again.
Enjoy!
It had been three days. Three days since a, now dead, embezzling Lieutenant Sanders had pushed him out of a second floor window. Three days since he had very limited use of both his arms. Two days since he'd, temporarily, moved in with Ziva.
Ziva, who had spent seven days with him in a cramped hotel room, surveilling the lieutenant. Ziva, who was now on suspension, courtesy of Internal Affairs, for using excessive force on an unarmed suspect—even if he did almost kill her partner. Ziva, who, three days ago, had offered to give him a hand job as casually as if she had offered him a cup of coffee.
Apart from the very short talk they'd had after Gibbs' video call, they hadn't really discussed it again. And he was relieved to note that things hadn't gotten awkward between them. Not during the six hour drive home. Not when she'd offered to let him stay with her until his left arm was out of a sling. Not even when he insisted they'd share the bed instead of Ziva taking the couch. "Not as if I can't keep my hands to myself now," he'd joked.
Which is why he now found himself relaxing on her couch, feet propped up on her coffee table, drinking her tea and reading one of her many books, feeling perfectly…at home. Even despite the lack of a decent TV and surround system. He looked up from the book at the sound of the door opening.
"Hey. How'd the meeting with IA go?" Tony's eyes took her in, as she dumped her backpack next to the door and took off her boots.
She let out a suppressed sigh and rolled her eyes, shaking her head a little. "I do not know."
Tony watched her walk to kitchen, retrieve a beer from the fridge, flick the cap into the trash can with great expertise and then turn towards him. He had trouble reading the conflicted expression on her face. Dealing with IA always left her frustrated. But something else seemed to be bothering her today. She took a swig of the bottle, never taking her eyes of him. Then another, followed by the pursing of her lips.
"Did they say when they'd have their final report ready?"
He almost missed the barely perceptible shake of her head. She simply kept staring at him with that unreadable expression. Her chest rose notably when she inhaled deeply through her nose, right before looking away for a moment.
When she looked at him again, something had changed. The conflict in her eyes seemed to have made place for acceptance, and he briefly wondered just how bad the meeting had gone. Were they really going to take her badge for what had happened? He would've done the same, and so would Gibbs and McGee.
"It doesn't matter," she replied solemnly, before making her way over to him.
Tony expected her to flop down on the couch and pull her feet up, the way she often did. Instead she stopped inches away from him. He used to think he had gotten pretty good at the art of reading Ziva David, but as she looked down at him, a small smile playing on her lips, he couldn't read her at all.
Ziva placed the beer on the coffee table behind her and slowly straddled his lap, her eyes flicking all over his face. Tony's chest got tighter as she settled down into a comfortable position. And when he felt her hands on his cheeks, and he saw the raw look of relief in her eyes, he could feel a tingle rush through his body.
"All that matters is that you're okay," she said simply. As if her job didn't matter to her. As if she hadn't worked her butt off to become a real NCIS agent.
Tony licked his lips involuntarily, still staring in her eyes, awed that she'd finally let down her walls. He placed his right hand on her hip, slightly frustrated by the limitations of the cast, then realized if it hadn't been for that cast, they might not be here, like this, right now.
His eyes fluttered as her thumbs slowly stroked his cheeks. She leaned in and they touched foreheads, one of her hands slipping down, resting right above where his heart was quickly picking up speed. Her eyes had closed and she was inhaling slowly, as if she were breathing in the moment. And with every breath Tony took, he could feel himself become more and more intoxicated with her. She pulled back mere inches and looked him in the eye again, the corners of her mouth twitching. And when she was seemingly satisfied with what she'd seen in his eyes, she closed the gap and touched her lips to his.
He was momentarily dazed by the softness, not just of her lips, but of the kiss itself. When they'd kissed during their first undercover assignment, it had been exactly what he'd imagined it would be like with her; fast, exciting, demanding, feisty. But this, the way she slowly caressed his lips, sometimes barely touching, just breathing, gently sucking on his lower lip, then letting go on a sigh, then starting all over again, this was all-consuming.
When her hand moved from the stubble on his cheek to his hair and she finally deepened the kiss, he pulled her tighter to him. As she opened up to him and he swirled his tongue around hers, he tasted the lingering sweetness of berries and mango, mixed with beer. He started struggling to remove his left arm from the sling it was trapped in, he needed to pull her closer, run his hands through her soft curls. But she halted his movements with the hand that had, up until then, been feeling exactly what she was doing to his heart.
When she pulled back and rested her forehead against his again, he let out a small whimper he would never admit to. Ziva rubbed her nose against his in response, sighing. Tony wanted to protest when she leaned back slightly, moving her hand from where it had been grasping his hair, back to slowly caress his cheek.
"When you're healed," she murmured, a promise. And when she looked at him, eyes full of love and adoration, a wide smile on her lips, he smiled back, his heart full of love and hope. This was it. They had finally crossed that invisible line. They were finally on the same page.
Tony couldn't have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. Not when she shifted to his right, draping both legs over his lap, resting her head on his good shoulder and a hand over his heart. Not when he pulled her a little closer with his right arm and felt her relax even more against him. Not when she fell asleep, her snores filling the otherwise quiet living room, the late afternoon sun streaming in.
A tickle in his nose roused him from sleep the next morning. He scrunched his nose and moved his head to the side a bit, hoping that would help. It was then that he realized his face was buried in Ziva's hair. Instead of moving away he inhaled deeply, a small smile forming on his lips as the scent of her shampoo and, well, her, registered in his brain. Not quite fully awake just yet, he hummed, causing Ziva to stir.
And suddenly he was awake. Wide awake. Fully conscious of Ziva's body pressed tightly against his side. Her head on his shoulder, right arm possessively over his stomach, leg in between his…too close…or maybe not close enough…he couldn't decide. The one thing he knew for certain was that this was a damn fine way to start the day.
Tony knew Ziva was awake as soon as he felt her whole body go rigid. He was relieved when she relaxed against him a second later and fleetingly touched her lips to his chest. His good morning startled her again and she looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes. When he told her lazily how he'd always wanted to wake up under a silky-soft Israeli sheet, she merely chuckled and melted into him again.
He trailed his fingers over the sliver of exposed skin below the hem of her tank top. "I could get used to this," he murmured.
She hummed and her fingers started dancing over his side. The ticklish sensation almost forgotten when her right leg moved, pressing herself against him deliciously. He wet his lips and closed his eyes for a second.
"Should I…get used to this?" he asked.
She raised herself on her arms and leaned over him, a coy smile playing on her lips.
The shrill ringing of her phone broke the spell. Ziva rolled her eyes and muttered something in Hebrew, leaning over him to grab her phone. Tony lifted his chin to get a better look at the curvy line of her ass, relishing in the feeling of her taut stomach now resting on his dick.
When she ended the phone call she sat back and pursed her lips.
"Gibbs," Tony said.
Ziva nodded. "IA cleared me."
He furrowed his brow at her tone. "Well, that's a good thing, right."
She gave him a tight smile. "A petty officer is missing. So is her 8-year old daughter."
They both knew what that meant; Gibbs at his worst. And the team was a man down. Tony sat up and brushed his lips against hers briefly. "Call me, or mail me, when you can. Tell Gibbs I can always come in to make some phone calls or something," he said. She gave him a quick kiss and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for what could possibly be a long and harrowing case.
Gibbs had been barking at her and McGee ever since she had arrived at the Navy Yard at 0900, only 20 minutes after his phone call. They had all worked non-stop, collecting evidence, tracking down leads. In the afternoon, Ziva had spent several hours on the road with Gibbs, questioning unhelpful witnesses and chasing a suspect who turned out to have an iron-clad alibi. This only made Gibbs even more unreasonable. At one point, he had even yelled at Abby over the phone.
When she had suggested getting food from a drive-through to take back to the office, he had slammed the steering wheel, asking her if she thought the petty officer and her daughter were getting food. The migraine that had been developing for the past hour only got worse after that.
Back at the Navy Yard, Gibbs stormed off upstairs as soon as they had gotten off the elevator. Ziva squinted as the light and glare from the skylights made the throbbing in the right side of her head even worse. She plopped down on her chair and immediately grabbed the bottle of painkillers from her drawer, realizing they probably wouldn't do her any good by now anyway. Looking up again she found McGee staring at her in concern.
Ziva closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Whatever you do, McGee, do not suggest getting food," she said in a tight voice.
"Have you eaten anything at all," McGee asked.
"Not since yesterday evening." She pressed her fingers against her temples for a few seconds, then opened the file in front of her to get back to work.
McGee walked up to her desk and said, "I can get you a Nutter-"
Ziva cringed and looked up at the sound of the head slap. Gibbs threw a piece of paper on McGee's desk and told him to get a Nutter Butter on his time and to track a financial lead.
Around 2130 she mailed Tony, letting him know they were at a dead end until new information showed up, but that they'd most likely be stuck in the office all night.
When the elevator dinged half an hour later in the quiet bullpen, Ziva cringed at the sound. The sight of Tony strolling in, grinning ear to ear, carrying pizza boxes made the corner of her mouth twitch, though.
At Gibbs' glare, Tony simply replied that some of them needed more than coffee to stay alive and solve a case. Gibbs had merely closed the folder in front of him forcefully and grabbed a slice of pizza on his way to the elevator.
Tony walked up to her desk, balancing a pizza box on the tips of his fingers. When he came to a stop in front of her desk, he winked and said it was her favorite. Unfortunately, the greasy smell that wafted from the box as he opened it made her nausea worse. She tried to muster a small smile for him, despite the pounding in her head. He tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her face and she tried to literally wave off his concern, grabbing a slice and a napkin. Ziva was relieved when he didn't press her further and turned to sit at his desk.
He started questioning McGee about the case, throwing in his two cents here and there, while eating pizza, frequently glancing in her direction. She nibbled on the food, not daring to eat too much at once and massaged her neck trying to focus on the file in front of her.
When Tony announced he was going to take some food down to Abby, Ziva didn't have to look up to know his eyes were trained on her as he walked past her desk to the elevator.
A short while later, McGee followed Tony to the lab, babbling about encryptions and firewalls and whatnot. Ziva merely lifted her hand in acknowledgment, eyes still staring at the black, blurry lines on the entirely too bright white page in front of her. As she heard the elevator doors close, she let out a frustrated groan and slammed her hand on the desk. Nausea took over and she instantly regretted the short outburst. Not to mention the greasy slice of pizza.
Ziva made her way to the bathroom and squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights and reflections in the mirror once she opened the door. She brought cold water up to her face, but it gave little relief, so instead she held her wrists under the running water to help settle her stomach.
When the bathroom door opened, she wasn't really surprised to see Tony walk in, concerned look on his face. She closed her eyes again, no longer having the energy to pretend she was fine.
She felt him step up behind her and when his fingers softly kneaded the base of her skull, she couldn't help but lean into him a little. It didn't take long before he quietly cussed under his breath and lowered his hand. Disappointed, she looked at him over her shoulder and melted a little at the apologetic look on his face as he held up his right arm and mumbled "damn cast." She gave him a small smile, closed her eyes and leaned her head back, focusing on the sensation of his two day scruff against her right temple.
They stood like that for a few moments, Tony holding her close. The hard cast pressing against her stomach as he held her tighter was in stark contrast to the soft lips that had started to caress the right side of her face. Her nausea at bay, she turned off the tap and grabbed a paper towel to dry her hands, before bringing one up to keep his face in place.
"You know…I still have to repay you for your…help," he breathed into her ear in between kisses.
Her lips parted and fire spread through her veins as flashes of her hands on his heated, wet skin came to mind, of him moaning her name as he finally let go.
Ziva turned her head to look at him, their noses bumping and breaths mingling. She wanted to ask how he was going to do that, when he couldn't even massage her neck with his hand in a cast, but the throbbing in her head and the warmth spreading through her body made it hard to form the words.
"That promise wasn't just lip service," he said in a husky voice, staring into her eyes. She sucked on her lower lip and blinked a few times, eyes flicking to his lips, wondering what they would feel like all over her body, all over her…
"And I promise you, my actual lip service is excellent."
The hungry look in his eyes had the pounding of her heart drown out the pounding in her head, and when his right hand pulled on her hip to twist her in his embrace she followed willingly.
Tony stepped in even closer, essentially pinning her against the counter, leg pressed between hers. He flexed his thigh muscles and Ziva struggled to keep her eyes open, this time not because of the harsh light, but because of the overwhelming heat and wetness building in her center. She dropped her head against his shoulder as he increased the movement of his leg and let his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt to lightly trail up and down her spine.
Tony's lips found their way to her face again, straying to her ear, breathing heavily, nipping at her earlobe, licking at just the right spot a bit lower, slowly, agonizingly slowly, licking and kissing his way down her neck, and everything was too much, too intense and she couldn't hold back the shuddery breath that left her open mouth.
Ziva tilted her head to give him better access and threaded her fingers in his hair, guiding him, holding him. His fingers trailed a path from her back to her stomach and her hips bucked against his thigh involuntarily.
His mouth left her neck and he lifted his head, hand stilled at the front of her jeans, waiting. It took her a few seconds to realize he was probably waiting for her to respond. When she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, the raw need she saw made her knees buckle. What the hell is happening, she thought, no one had ever made her legs go weak. Her body was thrumming with both pleasure and pain, and she didn't know what answer he had expected to find in her eyes, but when he popped the button of her jeans and fumbled with the zipper, his fingers so close now, she decided she couldn't have cared less.
As he tried to push down her pants with only one hand, it suddenly dawned on her that they were still at office.
"Tony…maybe…we shouldn't be doing…this…now." His lips had found that spot on her neck again and between his lips and teeth and the throbbing in her head, and lower body, it had become increasingly more difficult to stay coherent.
He looked her in the eye again. "The door's locked. Gibbs is still out, McGee and Abby were in some kind of techno babble high when I left them."
His words barely registered, though, between feeling him so deliciously close now and feeling miserable for the better part of the day. She was breathing heavily and couldn't decide whether to keep staring at his eyes or those tempting lips that had been teasing her skin. So she pushed down her pants and panties, letting them pool around her ankles, only briefly wondering what the hell she was doing, when a whiff of her own arousal overpowered the chemical smell always present in the bathroom.
Tony inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw, before reaching his arm behind her, intending to lift her onto the countertop. The hard plaster cast against her bare ass made her jerk forward and gasp.
"Sorry," he breathed and looked at her pointedly. "Up."
Ziva hoisted herself up and sat in between two sinks, vaguely wondering how sanitary this was, until his lips were on her neck again, just below her jaw, trailing a path of wet kisses to her collarbone, his fingers tracing down her thigh to softly caress the back of her knee. She gripped his right bicep and drew in a sharp breath as the tips of his fingers drew circles on the sensitive skin. Part of her wanted to smack the grin that had appeared off his face. Another part of her wanted him to never stop looking at her like that.
Tony kept staring at her, his grin growing wider as his fingers moved up to her hip and she hated - but loved - not knowing what he was up to. When he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the counter, she automatically reached for his belt buckle, anxious to speed things up and get the inconvenient layer of fabric out of the way. Tony tsked and shook his head, taking her hand and distracting her by running his fingertips lightly along her palm.
Ziva bit her lower lip, trying to repress the frustrated moan bubbling to break out. She was exhausted from the migraine, from the anticipation, from the fire running through her veins. She closed her eyes in an effort to regain some semblance of control, only to open them when she heard a joint pop and felt his hand on her thigh again. He was down on his knees looking up at her, a slightly embarrassed, self-conscious look on his face.
"Are you ok…ooh." His damn fingers started doing that thing to the back of her knee again, making her eyes flutter. He leaned closer and when he inhaled deeply with closed eyes, licked his lips, drawing in his lower lip, she lost it. "Tony," she growled. His eyes shot open and the raw lust she saw made her muscles clench.
Tony licked and kissed the inside of her thigh, inching closer and closer to where she wanted his mouth the most. She'd lost count of how often she'd fantasized about that mouth going down on her during all those long stakeouts where he refused to stop babbling. He looked up at her with hooded eyes. Never breaking eye contact, he slowly started licking her wet center, bottom to top, with a flat tongue. She trembled, hips bucking into his face, and her hands gripped his hair, never wanting to let go.
Seeing him between her legs felt surreal. She pushed his head closer and he increased the pressure as he sped up, ending each lick by placing his mouth over her and sucking her clit. Ziva moaned at the new sensation, mouth hanging open, breath coming out in short puffs. She saw his eyes become impossibly dark and the growl he let out reverberated all through her core.
The onslaught of sensations and emotions was overwhelming, and she had to brace an arm behind her, leaning back slightly as she closed her eyes, her hips rocking without any conscious effort, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke. She couldn't stop the little gasps and moans leaving her throat any more than she could stop the coiling sensation low in her belly. And when he started to hum every time he sucked on her clit, she couldn't stop the shockwave that ripped through her body and pushed her over the edge.
He continued lapping her up at a slower pace until he felt her relax and the hand in his hair guided him upwards. Ziva felt another shiver run through her when she saw him lick his glistening lips, hungry look still in his eyes. She held his face so close they bumped noses and she slowly ran her thumbs over his lips, making him hum again.
The sound stirred something in her and she roughly replaced her thumbs with her lips. Sucking on his bottom lip, biting down then running her tongue over it to soothe it. The taste of her lingered on his lips and made her walls clench again. He willingly opened his mouth when she started kissing him hard, demanding more, teeth clicking, her hand in his hair, arm around his neck keeping him close. But when she started to suck on his tongue hungrily and lowered a hand to rub his hard-on through his pants, he groaned and pulled back reluctantly.
"Ziva," he said so tenderly, she focused her attention on his eyes again. He brought her hand up to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles. "This was all about you. About making you feel better." he continued softly with a smile.
She drew in a shaky breath, because really, nothing had ever been all about her. At least, not in a good way. Not like this.
He rested his forehead against hers and she wrapped her arms around him, more mindful not to hurt his injured shoulder. When the fire inside her died down to a relaxed warmth, she looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you, Tony." Her voice broke a little on his name and he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"My pleasure," he said, fire still smoldering in his eyes. "And, I still owe you interest." He grinned widely and winked.
"Trust me, Tony," she said staring over his shoulder, taking a few seconds to try and compose herself again. She turned her attention back to him, eyes flicking to his lips and said, "I will collect in a couple of weeks."
Ziva lowered herself off the counter, purposefully bumping into him. He hummed approvingly as he stared in her eyes for a few seconds before wetting his lips again. He kissed her right temple gently, then murmured, "I'll see you at home."
Her heart skipped a beat. Even though his use of the word home may not have had any deeper meaning to him, it did to her. She watched him walk towards the door backwards, phone to his ear to call a cab, not breaking eye contact. He looked her up and down with a lewd smile when he bumped into the door, which was when she remembered her pants were still pooled around her ankles. He just winked and walked out the door.
After cleaning up, she looked in the mirror and was surprised at the reflection staring back at her. Ziva couldn't remember the last time she had looked so relaxed. Care-free. Content. Happy, even. She let out a small chuckle at the uncharacteristically emotional thoughts running through her mind, all of them involving one very special Agent DiNozzo, and made her way back to the bullpen.
"Where did Tony go?" McGee asked.
Ziva startled. "Oh, he went home." That warm feeling enveloped her again and she couldn't suppress the small smile on her lips as she walked towards her desk and sat down.
"Feeling better?"
She looked up again, brow slightly furrowed, heat rising in her cheeks.
"The migraine," McGee explained.
She smiled warmly and said, "Yes. Looks like that last painkiller really did the trick."
