A/N: I survived my first year of college Granted, my writing took some major neglect, but, hey, a girl's gotta prioritize. So far I've been satisfied with Season 10 (Again, someone, please, give De Pablo an award already!) though I am a little irritated with Miss David at the moment (What the heck Ziva?! Get it together!). I have a trifecta in the works dealing with the last two episodes and then the finale, so watch out for those ;) Anyway, enough pointless babbling (side note: I missed everybody a ton) and on with the show! Only the epilogue left! Much love, keep the peace, Kit.
DISCLAIMER: Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha . . . . . No.
CHAPTER XVIII
She makes omelets that are, of course, delicious. When he offers to do the dishes, she tells him to leave them in the sink, she'll do them later. He looks at her incredulously and she just shrugs, saying, "They will still be there in a few hours."
And he pauses as he watches her turn to refill her coffee cup, because there's the implication that though the dirty plates will be there later on, they –Tony and Ziva- may not be. And that's when it hits him: He's finite. And so is she. And they've got this thing that hasn't even gotten to be yet and it is suddenly so important to him to just make it happen.
She hears him come up behind her, can feel his warmth at her back, his breath burning the exposed skin of her neck. And she smiles because it took him long enough, and she turns around slowly, the counter top biting into her lower back as she abandons her coffee mug and turns her attention to the man before her.
His eyes are bright and there's this something in his gaze that she can't quite place, but it makes her feel warm inside. His palm comes up to cup her face, his fingers tracing her jaw back to the shell of her ear, back further until he pull the elastic from her hair, releasing the messy curls she knows he likes. He withdraws his hand and she quirks her lips at him curiously before reaching toward him, curling her hand behind his neck and bringing his head down to her level. She presses her mouth to his and she can taste his smile as he leans into the kiss, the hand that isn't buried in her hair anchoring at her hip.
And though she's getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen and force of feeling, he's already drunk off her.
She pulls back, breathless, and he continues placing kisses on her temple, her eyelids, her cheekbones, the spot on her neck where her pulse is beating beneath.
"Tony," she murmurs and he rests his forehead against hers, their noses brushing and breaths mingling.
"Zee-vah," and he draws out the syllables of her name like he always has and they know.
Her fingers tangle with his and she tugs him with her as she leads the path to her bedroom.
The curtains are still drawn, but sunlight is peeking through the gap, casting a golden stripe down the center of the room. Her bed is still unmade and he can see the impression of where her body had been on the mattress. She smiles at him again, a full, glowing smile that lights up her face and makes his heart do funny things to his ribcage.
Suddenly, she standing before him with her t-shirt dangling from her fingertips and the look on her face cannot be considered anything but come hither.
And it's one o'clock in the afternoon and they are Tony and Ziva and the earth has shifted.
...
"Ziva?" he whispers against her neck, his breath hot on her still-flushed skin. He's spooning against her, his body curled around hers protectively, and she can feel his heartbeat slowing as his pulse returns to normal. He's a warm, solid presence behind her and she's pleasantly drowsy, her limbs heavy and her body sated.
She's just on the cusp of slumber, but she responds anyway, her voice smoky in the dimness of her bedroom. "Hm?"
"I meant it, you know," he says quietly, his tone serious. "When I told you that I loved you; I-I wasn't just saying it in the heat of the moment-" And he's a breath away from babbling, so she rolls over in his embrace, so they are laying chest to chest with their legs entangled and his arm draping loosely over her lower back.
"Tony?" she says, softly interrupting him with a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
His eyes darken slightly, and he blinks. "Yeah?"
She smiles at him sleepily. "I know."
And she can feel his heartbeat pick back up as he rolls her beneath him once more, marveling at how well they fit together, her thighs parting to cradle his hips perfectly. His words come out thick and they both pretend not to notice it when he chants softly between pressing kisses to her lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you . . ."
Later, she smoothes a hand over his face, ruffling her fingers though his sex-mussed hair, pressing a tender kiss to his temple. And eventually they begin to fall asleep, his head resting against her belly and her arms cradling him to her.
"Tony?" she says on a sigh.
"Yeah?" And his response is exhaled across the golden expanse of her stomach, gooseflesh rising in the wake of his words.
She's quiet for a moment and he thinks she's fallen asleep until she continues softly, "I love you."
And she can feel him smile against her skin, his lips brushing the place just above the bottom of her ribcage. "Besides, I know," he replies, and they both pretend that they don't notice the fluttering of his eyelashes as he tries, in vain, to keep his tears from kissing her skin.