A/N: Tiva sequel to Ladybugs, it's not smut, but maybe don't read it at work when your boss is standing right next to you…unless you like awkward situations.

Prompt: Realizing their feelings

She was halfway through removing her shirt when there was a knock on the door. For a moment, she paused, staring at the door with enough intensity to hopefully make whoever was on the other side leave. Pulling her shirt down with a heavy sigh, she was at the door in a few strides, and after a longing look in the direction of her bathroom, opened the door.

At the sight of Tony's half grin, the heaviness in her body seemed to double. She checked her watch, and cut him off before he could so much as greet her. "I've been home for less than ten minutes." She walked towards a nearby cabinet and grabbed her gun. "I haven't showered, I haven't eaten since breakfast." She holstered the gun, turned towards Tony just as her stomach rumbled, and noticed the pizza box he was holding. Some of her frustration and fatigue disappeared at the prospect of food, and she grabbed her backpack off the floor next to the couch. "I suppose I can eat on the way."

Tony frowned. "On the way where?"

"The Navy Yard," Ziva said reaching for her coat.

"I…" Tony pushed past her into her living room, closing the door behind him, and placed the pizza on the table. "You want to do this at the office?"

Ziva dropped her backpack and coat at the door and walked over to him, the smell of pizza too hard to resist. Through a mouth full of pizza, she asked, "What was the breakthrough?"

Tony's confusion was overridden by her tongue darting out to lick some grease from her lips. "This morning?"

"What? Do we have to go the office, or arrest someone somewhere?" She took another bite, and looked at him desperately fatigued. "Please don't tell me it's another stakeout."

Tony glanced around, trying to figure out if he had completely misunderstood their breakthrough conversation that morning. A very enticing breakthrough, the thought of which had kept him on his feet during the long and hectic day that had followed. "No, it's…I'm not here about the case."

Ziva swallowed the last bite of her slice, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Feeling decidedly less frustrated, she waited patiently for him to elaborate.

"I thought we, um…" He scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "We agreed to a…a revenge McGee workshop this morning."

Ziva's eyes went wide as she remembered their conversation. It had slipped her mind as more disturbing details of the marine's death had come to light. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Hey, it's been a long day, it was early, we were still tired from the last case, it's fine if you changed your mind. "Trying hard not to let his disappointment, not to mention his breaking heart, show, he shrugged, and added, "We could glue him to his keyboard again, instead." He tapped his right temple. "Can't write about us if he can't type."

Ziva stepped in closer until they were almost touching. "That is not very original." She plucked at non-existent lint on his coat. "There's something on your coat, you should take it off."

Tony stared down awkwardly at his coat, then shrugged out of it quickly, remembering the ladybugs that had hitchhiked on his jacket into the car that morning.

At the sight of his shoulder holster, Ziva bit her bottom lip. "You are not playing fair."

Tony puffed out his chest, and stared at her with hooded eyes. "Just trying to play to my strengths."

"Hmm," Ziva said thoughtfully, staring at her hands as she ran them over his chest and shoulders, linking them behind his neck. Standing on tiptoes, she grazed his lips with hers. "It's working," she said huskily, and pulled his head down to kiss him, draw him in, taste him.

His left arm snaked around her waist, holding her loosely, and he grinned against her lips. "You taste like pizza."

"You taste like whisky." She pulled back enough to judge his sobriety, not that he seemed drunk when she opened the door.

"One drink, before I left." He shrugged, then pecked her lips. "Guess I needed a bit of liquid courage."

His fingers moved against the base of her skull and he kissed her again, slowly, lazily, which poked the flicker inside her into an erratic flame. She gently tugged at his hair, urging him closer, but all he did was slow down even more and smile against her lips.

"McGee is gonna hate this," he murmured.

"What?" Her brows knit, but before her mind could think of anything other than his hands now clutching her firmly to him, his lips had moved on to her neck, fanning the erratic flame into a roaring fire.

His hand slipped from her lower back to her ass, and as he pulled her to him roughly, she let out a whimper.

Her pulse stumbled over itself, there was no reason for him to have this effect on her. Not this fast. She pushed herself against him, not caring of how needy it made her look. Strong, nimble fingers slipped under her shirt, sending shivers up and down her spine as they inched closer and closer to her bra strap.

He kissed a feather light trail from her jaw line to her mouth, leaving every nerve ending his lips had touched tingling and begging for more. Claiming her mouth as his so boldly there was no doubt in her mind that this was how it should be, how it always should have been.

As his left hand moved lower again, barely slipping underneath the waistband of her pants, the fingers of his other hand trailed lightly up and down her neck, making her knees go weak. The barest whimper escaped her mouth, right into his, and he drew back just enough to stare at her, willing her to open her eyes.

And when she did, all she saw there was years of pent up lust, desire…love. Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip, trying to regain some semblance of control, but all it did was remind her of his taste, how he had sucked on her lip, how his scent seemed to permeate her consciousness.

"You know…" he rasped, and cleared his throat, blinking rapidly.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, inhaled deeply and nuzzled his cheek, the stubble eliciting new cravings she tried to ignore.

"If we do this," he breathed heavily, fingers tickling along the nape of her neck. "On Gibbs' desk, McGee will have a heart attack."

"Tony," she sighed in his ear, as his lips left another trail down her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

He hummed against her tender skin.

"Why do you keep bringing up McGee?" Her eyelids fluttered as he nipped, then licked, then pulled back without a warning.

There was no more than a few inches between them, but in that moment it may as well have been the Grand Canyon. She looked at him questioningly, trying to gather her thoughts, trying not to miss his lips against her skin.

"Just so we're clear," he said in a low voice, locking eyes with her. "We're not…doing this to annoy McGee, right?"

"Yes, I mean, no, I…" She closed her eyes and tried to tamp down the building frustration. "I do not care about McGee…" She shook her head. "I do not want to think about…" Her gaze drifted to his mouth, every nerve ending in her body craving to be touched by those soft, skillful lips. "I want to think about you…" She blinked slowly, then forced her gaze to meet his. "I don't want to think," she husked, getting lost in the depth of love in his eyes. "I just want you."

His face relaxed as soon as her words registered, and he seemed to fold around her, cocooning her, his forehead resting against hers. He swallowed hard, then breathed out her name. "I want you, too."