Sorry about the delay. Again. I'm always apologizing. Anyways, it's a three-day-weekend here, and those apparently mean writing time. :D It also means lots of NCIS on TV, but never mind that.
This chapter definitely has Tiva. Like, definitely. I just hope it's not OOC. I'm rambling. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you watch The Mystery of Natalie Wood and your head almost explodes at the craziness of it. (Michael Weatherly playing Robert Wagner. Robert Wagner plays Tony's dad. Y'know.)
Listening to: Elephant Love Medley by Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor, from Moulin Rouge.
The weeks blur- one to the next, to the next- as she passes from team to team, not particularly enjoying the work but not disliking it entirely. If she's honest, it's better than Mossad. She's safe, mildly happy, and gets to do things she could never do before.
But it's not thrilling. There's no spark with the people she interacts with; no interest with them. That, and she doesn't see very much of Anthony DiNozzo.
Yes, they pass each other occasionally, exchanging a polite smile or a few words, but she doesn't think it's the same. She's still not sure what the tightness in her chest is each time she lays eyes on him, but she's given up any hope of more than just a friendship between the two of them. The rumours of Tony's reputation, as Abby had put it upon their third meeting, and an apparent rule of Gibbs', has seen to that.
So it's with a certain sadness in her that she continues working professionally, and only professionally, with each team she's assigned to. Until, that is, she is placed with a certain Team Gibbs.
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Walking from the elevator, she twists the shiny new badge on her belt with a bizarre nervousness. An uneasy feeling has settled over her this morning, like a sickness washing over her, and she's quite sure why. Gibbs is renowned throughout the agency; she knows this as a fact.
She'll also have to deal with Emily- someone she won't find agreeable, according to Agent Bauer, from Nicholson's team, Agent Portland, from McGregor's team, Sheila from HR, Abby, and practically everyone she's worked with so far.
Not expecting to enjoy the day that much, she arrives at a familiar desk with an odd sense of déjà vu.
Nobody's seated at their desks yet- a fact she's observed from all but one Agent so far- since it's zero-seven-hundred. Mossad drummed early-rises into her, so she rarely sleeps past 05:00 AM any day. However, a cup of coffee sits on the desk diagonal to Tony's, swirls of steam rising out of the lid, and the computer to her left is buzzing. That leaves Emily and her DiNozzo.
Her DiNozzo?
Moving round, she slumps in Tony's chair, putting her feet up on his desk and stretching her hands out, placing them behind her head comfortably, preparing herself for whatever case she'll be working today.
A young man she hasn't seen before turns up around fifteen minutes after she arrives, sitting at the desk with the humming computer and staring at her in confusion. She ignores him for the moment, choosing instead to smile amusedly and stay where she is.
A graying man arrives next, sending an off-kilter glare in her direction and picking up the still-steaming cup of coffee. She merely raises her eyebrows in greeting and swings in the chair a little, digging her heels into the desk to keep her balance.
Emily turns up next, her hair down and sticking to her cheeks in a way that makes Ziva's nose wrinkle in disgust just upon seeing it. The woman is sporting a coral-coloured skirt suit today, with high heels that will be entirely inappropriate for wearing to a crime scene, and a tiny brown handbag that looks too small to house anything important.
Finally, Tony turns up. His face is priceless, Ziva thinks. Jaw hanging open, eyes wide, arm going slack as his backpack falls to the floor. She sends him a grin, still not moving from her position, and he snaps out of his reverie with obvious shock. Still looking completely stunned, he speaks- probably the most obvious thing he could say.
"Ziva...? You're at my desk."
"I know." she replies, winking at him. He's moved by now, standing by her side, so she has to tilt her head to see him properly. She tries not to notice how he looks particularly attractive from this angle.
Someone clears their throat, and the two of them break their gazes to see the graying man looking at them, as if to ask what the hell's going on. This man, she assumes, is Gibbs. Finally moving, she stands and rubs her hands together, moving toward the older man with a polite smile.
"You Ziva, then?" he asks gruffly, narrowing his eyes as he inspects her.
She replies with a curt "Yes.", waiting to see if he'll offer his hand.
He nods; shrugging in half-approval, then outstretches his arm. She shakes his hand, noting how his skin is rough yet comforting underneath hers. It's a refreshing feeling, and she almost feels like she's coming home.
She likes Gibbs.
"Miss David will be with us for a while." Gibbs announces after she's let go, addressing his team but not looking at anyone in particular.
When Ziva turns round, she sees the indifferent look on Emily's face, the intrigued but completely welcoming smile from the other man, and the brilliant grin on Tony's face.
With this team, there's spark. There's interest. And there's Anthony DiNozzo.
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They work on a particularly odd case, in Ziva's opinion. But despite the severed toes, Chihuahua tattoos, and the stash of gnome figurines in the victim's house, Tony and the other man- McGee, she's discovered- still argue that this isn't their strangest case. Not really wanting the details, she laughs, says no more on the matter and goes back to questioning the homeowner.
She doesn't notice that Emily is shooting daggers at her back.
When the crime scene goes particularly quiet, and she sees everyone reaching for their weapons, she realizes something is most definitely wrong. Hearing footsteps by the door, she moves to hide herself somewhat, and stands next to Tony- by a closet-, pulling her gun out at the same time. A man enters, armed, and immediately heads in their direction. He aims his gun at Tony, and she shoots him in the leg before anything happens. Gibbs thanks her by clapping her on the back, and McGee sends her a grateful smile. Tony puts his arm round her shoulder, giving her a sideways hug that makes her head spin.
She doesn't notice that Emily glares at her in jealousy.
She drives back, slightly less recklessly than she would do normally, exchanging jokes with Tony and stories with McGee. When the subject of Tony and herself meeting turns up, she laughs before exaggerating parts of the story, more for his sake than hers, though she certainly doesn't want to share the more... intimate parts of their first encounter. The man in question sends her a look, laced fully with something that manages to make her stomach twist again, and she wonders just what he's trying to say. His eyes are burning darkly; deep green and fiery. She's not sure she's ever seen eyes that convey such emotion before. But she likes it.
She reaches over and lays her hand on his cheek briefly, at a point in the story when it seems okay to act so boldly, feeling the heat radiating from his skin to hers.
She doesn't notice that Emily shudders in anger.
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She's in the elevator when it happens. The case is solved, the paperwork done, and she's heading home for the night. Emily's already left- thank goodness-, and Gibbs has disappeared somewhere, so she says a brief goodbye to McGee and Tony before moving away. Tony stands, though, claiming to be finished, and she waits whilst he collects his things.
The first part of the elevator ride is awkward. A scared-looking rookie wedges himself between the two of them, clutching a briefcase and breaking out into a sweat within seconds. When he leaves at the next floor- presumably to escape the tension-thick air and catch the next car in order to head home- Tony lets the doors close before moving and flicking a switch Ziva had never noticed before. The lift shudders to a halt, the lights dimming and bathing everything an eerie blue. He turns to face her, his eyes laden with the same look he had earlier.
"Thank you." he says, nodding slightly as he speaks.
"For what?" she asks, presuming it to be a legitimate question.
"Earlier, at the scene. You pretty much saved my life, Zi."
She can't help but smile at the nickname. Nobody's called her that before, but she thinks she wouldn't mind if Tony kept on calling her that for however long he wants to. She smiles before replying.
"Any time." She thinks that's the right phrase.
Before she knows what's happening, he's reached out and is cupping her cheek with his hand, fingers gently brushing against her skin. Her eyes flutter shut at the contact, relishing in the feeling of him. When her eyelids lift once more, he has moved considerably closer, so much so that she can feel his breath fanning out across her face. A shiver runs down her spine, because she thinks she knows what's going to happen. And she'd rather like it, too.
He tilts his head down, and she leans up, closing her eyes again, in anticipation.
Their lips meet so softly, she wonders if she's imagined it. But his arm slides round her waist and pulls her closer, and he kisses her with more force. This is unlike anything she's ever felt. Her knees feel weak and her heart is pounding as he gently pushes her up against the wall. The railing presses into her back, but his fingers do too, imprinting themselves onto her skin through her shirt.
Her senses are filling with his scent; his taste; his touch, and her head spins with the very feel of him. His hand, still on her cheek, moves to her neck, pushing her closer and closer until she feels like they're one. It's not just her, or just him, not anymore. It's the two of them, forming one being.
The kiss ends eventually, a mix of a lack of oxygen and also his choice. However, he moves and presses his lips against her neck, with impossible delicateness. Her eyes remain shut as he continues caressing her skin- still so gentle-, but they open once he pulls away.
He's looking at her, his eyes filled with that look again, also glinting with a suspiciously watery air, and she so desperately wants to know what he's thinking.
But he says little else, just reaches out and flicks the switch again, and the elevator hums into action again. She kisses him again, twice, savouring everything about the situation. The doors open loudly, and he whispers against her lips before leaving,
"Goodnight, Ziva."
She's left, standing, breathing heavily and staring at his retreating figure, a hand put out keeping the car from ascending again. Running a finger along her lips, still tasting him there, she thinks she knows what that feeling in her chest is. She also thinks she knows what that look in his eyes is. And she knows- just knows - they both mean the same thing.
A four-letter-word has never had so much meaning before.
I'll give you three guesses as to what that word is... ^_^ Thoughts?
-Kiera. x