Making Rules

Back! I've been trying to figure out the structure of this story as a whole instead of just writing it chapter by chapter and posting immediately, which is how the others so far have come to you, and I've figured it out! We're going to be hooking back into the episodes starting with Mother's Day (and the Conversations chapter about it) several chapters from now; these next bits will fill in the hiatus the show took. Enjoy the fluffiness of this, there's angst on the horizon.

PS I love you all for reviewing; when my kids are exhausting I sit and reread the reviews on my lunch break and smile.

PPS This chapter also warrants the M rating!

Tony stood frozen as he watched the scene play out. Ziva was immobile opposite Petty Officer Tom Harrow, both their guns drawn and aimed, leveled at each others' hearts. He'd lost his own in the fighting earlier, had no way to stop what might happen next.

"Maybe we should just put these down and go our separate ways," the man said lightly, smirking. "Or we could just shoot each other. It's a classic game of chicken, no?"

Bang.

Tony leapt in his own skin, his eyes whirling to Ziva as she dropped to one knee, loosed three shots back at Harrow. He fell instantly, bullet wounds in his head, throat and chest.

"Ziva!" Tony reached for her.

She shook her head, her eyes meeting his impassively. "He missed. Did you see the way his shoulders tensed before he took the shot? He gave himself away."

Tony felt like he could hardly breathe. But before he could say anthing they heard Gibbs' voice calling both their names. Gibbs and McGee ran into the room, toward Tony and Ziva and the fallen officer.

"We're fine," Ziva said quickly, nodding reassurance to the rest of the team. She turned back to Tony. "What did he mean, 'chicken'?"

*

Documenting the scene took the next hour, and then Ziva had more than her usual share of paperwork since she'd discharged her gun, but when they got back to Ziva's apartment Tony still felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"What is it?" Ziva looked up at him, concerned, as she turned from taking her coat off and found him still standing in the doorway.

Tony closed his eyes, remembering seeing the flash of Harrow's gun and smelling the singed air, remembering that horrible instant when he was sure she was lost. He took a deep breath. "Look, I know I freaked you out about this after the thing with Damon and the truck, but we've said 'I love you' now, Ziva, and I do. I love you. Don't tell me you love me too and then go throw yourself into danger."

She clenched her teeth, waiting out his speech. "I did not intend to get into that situation, Tony, but I know how to handle myself! This was not the same—that day with the truck, I was making sure I wanted to live." She paused for emphasis. "I do. Today I made a choice as an agent that I thought was right. And I stand by it." She cocked her head impatiently. "What would you have done?"

He rubbed a hand across his eyes and took a step toward her. "I don't know. Probably the same thing." Tony pulled off his own coat roughly, frustrated. "I didn't know this would be so hard. I've seen you in dangerous situations plenty of times. But now you're not just my partner."

A smile softened her mouth as Ziva moved toward Tony, stopping a foot in front of him. "What am I then?" she asked, her eyes alluring.

He swallowed down the fear at saying it out loud. "My future."

Ziva's eyes flooded with wonder, then she smiled up at him brilliantly. After a moment, though, her smile faded. "My job is not going to change, Tony. I do not want it to. You can not ask me to."

Tony nodded glumly. "I know." He reached out and took her hand in his. "Just...No stupid risks, alright? Can we promise each other that?"

She nodded, smiling fondly. "Agreed." Then Ziva's expression grew sultry again. "Just in case this does go badly one of these days..." She leaned up and kissed him.

They had been pushing closer and closer to sex in the last few days, since the night she'd crawled into bed with him. Tony responded to her instinctively, but the demanding way Ziva was pressing against him gave him pause.

He pulled back. "Would doing this now be a stupid risk?"

Ziva leaned away from him, frowning with concern. "Are you afraid to have sex with me?"

Tony opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. "Are you?"

Her eyes dropped a moment, then returned to his. "No. No, I'm not." Ziva looked at him emphatically, tried to make him believe what she was saying.

He studied her carefully. "I don't want to be part of the pain you've been through, Ziva. I don't—Dr. Harper was trying to tell me that it's not unusual for women to panic after they've been...raped...during sex, I mean--"

Ziva held up her hand to stop him. "I will never be able to promise you I will not have a panic attack, Tony, but I do promise not to let you hurt me."

He took a deep breath. "Isn't it still a risk?"

She sighed. "Loving me is a bigger one."

Tony laughed. "Okay, then." He nodded, then his eyes widened as he realized what he'd just agreed to.

"Okay," Ziva repeated. She grabbed his hand and tugged him along as she slowly backed toward her bedroom, never breaking eye contact. As she crossed the threshold Ziva let him go and gave him a tantalizing look, reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then slid her hands down to the button of her jeans.

Tony stepped into her space, his hands on hers. "Let me," he murmured in her ear, slipping a finger through one of Ziva's belt loops. She tilted her head and kissed him.

Their clothes were off at once, and Tony drank in the sight of Ziva's body, no longer dwelling on her scars and lingering thinness. Instead he noted the swell of her breasts and hips, the way her hair, pulled free of its ponytail, cascaded down around her.

"What?" Ziva whispered, pressing close.

Tony leaned down to murmur against her throat. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

She shivered and pushed him toward the bed. He sat and looked up at her with desire in his eyes. Somalia was the furthest thing from Ziva's mind as she let him pull her down beside him.

They kissed and any worries faded. It flashed through Tony's mind as he teased her with his touch that all the women, the dates and hook-ups and flings, had been good for one thing: he knew how to do this. How to make her forget everything except sensation and delight.

A ragged cry escaped her lips a while later as Tony's fingers dipped into her body and found her flooded with arousal. Ziva nipped at his shoulder, making him gasp in turn.

Tony rolled them so she was straddling his hips. "Like this?" he murmured.

She nodded, waiting impatiently while he rolled on a condom. Ziva poised herself above him, smirking willfully as Tony moaned with his own impatience at her teasing. Then she sank down.

He thanked his experience again for what he knew in the next moment: there was nothing in Ziva's face but pleasure. She was alright. There was as much joy in his voice as enjoyment as Tony began to move, began to drive them both faster toward ecstasy.