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[hopeless-nostalgiac]

Last Line

Tagged by: I'm sure I missed a tag from someone at some point...

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

Like hell he was gonna squander this perfect collision of desire and timing and opportunity and…planets aligning, probably, in a quick screw against his front door.

Tagging: @mrsmungus @earanemith @loudlooks @factoffictionwriter @indestinatus @wanna-be-bold @mcgeekle @easylion @wafflesetc @paperclipninja @glenanneswesten ...not quite 27, but if you want to be, consider yourself tagged!

[red-and-frantic]

so @tumbleweedpalmer and @factoffictionwriter had the idea of someone writing a fic about tony and ziva coming back to help jimmy after breena’s death, so i may have written it...

[factoffictionwriter]

Cold Tiles and Warm Air

Ziva wasn’t usually one to stare. 

Yes, she possesses a healthy appreciation for the male form. And yes, she has often found herself indulging in said appreciation through various pursuits with her most appealing lovers. 

But staring? It just wasn’t her thing. Touching, kissing, stroking… these were all forms of intimacy she could get behind. But leave her to look - just look, not touch - and she typically grew antsy. Or worse: Bored. 

She was finding that, as with just about everything else, Tony was the exception. 

“I feel you watching me.” 

“Hm.” 

He didn’t bother turning around, so she didn’t bother looking away. It was funny how quickly they’d changed in the wake of dropping all pretense.

“Take a picture.” 

“Huh?”

“It lasts longer.” 

She wants to laugh. And she wants to roll her eyes. But instead, she shifts so she’s leaning a bit higher on the door frame, and brings her thumb to her lips to chew absently on the very edge of her nail. 

He leans forward, reaching for one of the plastic bottles lining the front wall of the shower. The movement causes water to run down the muscles of his back in a broad and hypnotizing pattern. 

When he stands up straight, his shoulders shutter and he instantly reaches for the tap. 

“Jesus, Ziva. As much as I love being the object of your undivided attention, I’m gonna need you to either be in the bathroom or out of it. You’re letting out all the warm air.” 

He finally looks at her over his shoulder. With dark eyes and water dripping off the spikes of his hair. She finds herself stepping forward and closing the door behind her back without actually deciding to do so.

Read more on ffn

[parischangedher]

Last line tag

Rules: Share the last line you wrote for a WIP

tagged by @factoffictionwriter! (I love, love, love your stories so thank you for tagging me!!)

“Is that right?” he asked playfully, eyebrows raised. “Now where have I heard that before?”

tagging: @wanna-be-bold

[sylokis]

[03.06 - the voyeur’s web]

@factoffictionwriter

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

Tony worrying about Ziva at the end of Dagger, 6x9

for @factoffictionwriter​

[wanna-be-bold]

37 and 42 for the asks!

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

Third person. Every time. I just don't like 1st person because it makes me feel like I'm in the story and if I'm writing it's about other people.

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

I can't just pick 5 so I'm giving you some favorites from each fandom:

Ellick:

@hellokaelyn AO3

@onlyhereforellick AO3

@tiffanytheweirdo AO3

@enchantedbooklover18 AO3

Tiva:

@indestinatus AO3

@justkindaoverhereobsessing AO3

@hundan AO3

@factoffictionwriter

Densi:

@ejzah ff.net

@mashmaiden ff.net

@glenncoco4 ff.net

Ask me here!

[bamboo72498]

Smooth Like a Fine Wine

a Season 10 Tiva AU written for my buddy @factoffictionwriter

Under a cut, because long. Enjoy!

The phone rings, again. And Tony groans, again. And when Ziva finally answers it, and though he remains focussed on his computer screen looking up information on their latest case like a good little agent, Tony actively spies on Ziva; listening in on her conversation, most of which was in Hebrew. 

He catches a few words, tonight, home, and dinner, but it’s what Ziva says as she ends the call that makes him look up so fast it’s a wonder how he didn’t get whiplash. 

“Ani ohevet otcha, Ima.” 

It’s not until Ziva hangs up the phone and goes back to work that Tony pipes up.

“So-” he starts, trying to be casual. “That was your mom?”

“Yes, what does it matter to you?”

“Well, if that was the same person who’s been calling here all day, annoying everyone, I was curious as to who it was, that’s all,” he shrugs. 

“Were you listening to my conversation, Tony?” Ziva asks, exasperated.

“No! What. I would never!” Tony splutters. But off his partner’s look, he caves. “Okay, fine: Yes, I was listening in.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your mom was in town?”

“I did not know myself until this morning that she was coming. Something about ‘not wanting my father to know’,” she says, adding the air quotes. “Those two do not get along, and if my father knew my mom was coming, he would not be pleased.”

“So you two are having dinner? That’s sweet,” Tony nods. “A little mother-daughter bonding is always nice.”

“It is,” Ziva agrees. “We have not seen each other in a while. It will be nice to catch up.”

“So, is she staying long? I’d love a chance to meet the woman who birthed the amazing Ziva David.”

“Why? So you can tell her embarrassing things about me? Not a snowman’s chance in the desert, Tony.”

He wants to correct her, he really does, but chooses not to. “Come on, I promise I’ll be good! Only good stories.” He sounds like a child, and it makes Ziva smile. 

“How about a compromise? You can join us for a drink tonight. But, you must be on your best behavior.”

“Scouts honor,” Tony nods, cheering to himself on the inside. 

[][]

The restaurant she sends him to looks way too swanky to be appropriate for their plans that night. But then he remembers Ziva is the daughter of the head of Mosad, and thus Ziva could get them into any place without question just by mentioning her dad. 

He hands off his care to the valet, straightens his tie, and goes inside. After not spotting them, and checking with the hostess, Tony waits, and after a few minutes he sees Ziva and her mom coming up the walkway, Ziva’s car being driven off by the valet. Tony is quick to open the door for them, and the surprise on Ziva’s faces makes him smile. 

“You’re early,” she comments. 

“Wanted to make a good first impression,” he says. “Ladies: after you,” he waves them inside, missing the smiling eye roll Ziva gives him. 

“Ima, this is my partner, Tony DiNozzo,” Ziva introduces. 

Rivka David was stunningly beautiful. The same olive skin and dark eyes as her daughter, though she wore glasses hung on a jeweled chain, the same wild, curly hair. She was maybe an inch or two taller than Ziva, and held herself with such grace and confidence that the gold dress she wore seemed to float around her body like it was always a part of her. “Tony, it is so nice to finally put a face to the name,” Rivka said. Her accent reminded him of Ziva’s when she’d first joined NCIS and it made him smile to find another similarity to the two. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Tony says, shaking her offered hand. “And can I just say: you raised an amazing girl.” He sees Ziva blush and holds her eyes as long as possible before she looks away. 

“Thank you,” Rivka agrees. “Her father had some input on it, but not much,” she laughs at Eli’s expense. 

The hostess leads them to a table, and Tony waits until both girls are sitting before sitting himself. 

“And for you, sir?” their waiter asks about drinks.

“I’ll take wine, please. Whatever red you have on special today,” Tony says. 

“Of course, sir. I’ll have those drinks out shortly.”

They continue talking the second their waiter walks away. It’s so easy, the three of them. Nothing awkward or unseasy, just fluid conversation as if they’d done it for years. Tony makes Ziva’s mom laugh recounting a tale about his first time on a Navy ship and touching things he wasn’t supposed to. And Rivka embarrasses her daughter with a story about her first crush with she was nine-years-old; how she’d brought him a teddy bear at recess and had to watch as the boy ripped the head off and used it as a soccer ball. Needless to say: young Ziva was heart broken and said she’d never talk to another boy ever again. 

When it came time to order food, Tony decided to take his leave, and gathered his things. 

“No, no. Stay, it’s alright,” Rivka scolded. 

“No, I don’t want to intrude on your dinner. Ziva told me you guys haven’t seen each other in a while. You need to catch up alone,” He said, staying true to their bargain. “It was really great meeting you,” he says, shaking Ziva’s mom’s hand, while his other rested on Ziva’s shoulder, squeezing down for a second, rubbing her bicep. He slid into his coat, smiled to his partner and left. 

“Well, he was very nice,” Rivka said suggestively once Tony was out of earshot. 

“Ima, don’t go getting any ideas. He’s my partner,” Ziva says, trying to keep her red face hidden. It had gone better than expected and Ziva wished Tony had stayed. Wished he could stay for all her family dinners. 

“I didn’t say anything! Though, the way he looked at you, he wants to be more than partners. And you do too, no?

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know,” Ziva splutters. “It’s complicated. Our boss had rules against partners dating.”

“Rules are made to be broken, Ziva.”

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by @mrsmungus and @loudlooks

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

They took turns running recon outside the hotel, then warming the other up with more body friction than was strictly required.

Tagging...I’m not sure who writes regularly anymore. @factoffictionwriter @indestinatus @wanna-be-bold @mcgeekle @easylion and anyone else! 

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #14

More from Chaval Extras. Things to know: Ziva has 2 Aunts back in Israel whom she took Tony to meet. The Aunts are friends with Shmeil as well. Oh, and Tony and Ziva are totally a thing. Like a thing thing.

“Wait a second. So I wasn’t imagining it? Ziva really did have a motorcycle?” 

Shmeil nodded enthusiastically, “My Ziva had a motorcycle before she even learned how to drive!” 

Tony chuckled to himself, “That explains a lot, actually.” 

“What explains a lot?” His beautiful Israeli asked as she breezed into the room, delicate looking teacups in either hand. She carefully handed one of them to Shmeil before crossing the room to take a seat next to Tony on the couch. 

“I was just telling Anthony about your, shall we say, preference for dangerous modes of transportation.” 

Her eyebrows came together as she wracked her brain for what he could possibly be talking about. But when she saw Tony’s smug little grin beside her, she put the pieces together. 

“The motorcycle?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah,” Tony chimed.

She eyed him warily, “Remember what I said about stories being exaggerated? Keep that in mind.” 

He just laughed at her. 

“What is so funny, Anthony?” Nettie asked as she too emerged from the kitchen, her two sisters trailing behind, each with their own teacup.

“Ziva was just about to tell me about her motorcycle.”

“Oh, goodness. Why would you want to hear about that horrible thing?” Adina asked as she settled into the couch across the room. 

“Because he is a man,” Shmeil laughed, “And men like two things: hot women and fast vehicles.” 

Tony nodded, “And this story promises to have both.” 

“Very well then,” Nettie sighed as she sipped on her tea.

“We do not know where she managed to get such a horrible contraption, much less how she managed to keep it secret for so long,” Hinda was giving Ziva a disapproving look, “But somehow she managed to drive that thing to school every day for an entire year before we even knew it existed.” 

“She parked it a few spaces down from her father’s car in one of the neighbor boy’s spaces. Lord knows how she convinced him to let her have such a coveted spot,” Nettie shook her head. 

“I can think of a few ways,” Tony whispered to himself, but Shmeil managed to hear it. 

“David women can be quite convincing,” the old man winked at Tony, causing his smile to grow wider. 

“Anyways, we never would have even known about it if she hadn’t gotten in that accident.” 

“Which was not my fault, by the way,” Ziva added. 

“They never are,” Tony remarked, sending her a look of such pure adoration that she couldn’t help but forgive his jab. 

“Okay, but this one really was not. The man should have looked over his shoulder. Even I look over my shoulder when changing lanes.” 

“And how fast were you going, dear?” Nettie asked, the stern look on her face telling him she already knew the answer.

“That is not important. He still should have looked.” 

“I seem to remember the officer telling us you were going 110 mph… in a 45 mph zone,” Adina provided helpfully. 

Tony let out a long whistle before pausing, “Actually, I’m not that surprised. That does sound like something you would do.” 

She rolled her eyes, biting back a tiny smile. 

“She was thrown clear across the highway. A couple more feet and she would have rolled right off the cliff and into the sea below.” 

Ziva just shrugged, “I walked away with a few scratches.” 

“If by scratches you mean 3 broken ribs and road burn up your entire left side,” Hinda corrected, “But yes, you were able to walk away. You were very lucky.” 

Tony leaned into the couch cushion, slowly sliding his hand over to rest it on her side, right where he remembered seeing a long patch of scars, mostly faded until they looked like delicate white flames dancing across her skin. 

She nodded slightly in his direction as if confirming that the marks were, in fact, the remnants of this exact accident. 

“Tali would not go near the thing,” Nettie spoke, breaking up the moment between the couple on the couch. 

“Of course Tali wouldn’t go near it. She was smart. She understood the concept of danger,” Hinda acknowledged. 

Ziva let out a quiet huff as she leaned back against the cushions, and inadvertently his arm. 

“Yes, but I understood the concept of fun.” 

Tony let out a hearty laugh at her comment before smoothly transitioning it into a cough when the aunts shot him disapproving looks. 

“You only truly understood how to piss off your father. Let this be a lesson to you, Anthony. When you have children, do not rule with an iron fist, lest they turn out to be anything like their mother.” 

“Doda!” Ziva cried, sending Adina a truly incredulous look. 

---

“Did you ever get the chance to meet Eli, Anthony?” Nettie asked. 

He felt Ziva stiffen beside him, and took that as a sign to proceed with the utmost caution. 

“Yeah, I did. A couple of times, actually. He… wasn’t a big fan of me.” 

“Nor you of him, I assume,” Hinda offered. 

“I think Eli David was a complicated man… in a complicated situation. It’s really not for me to judge. I will never understand exactly what he was going through.” 

“It is quite alright, Tony. You are surrounded by fellow Eli-haters here. I am sure there is nothing you can say about the man that Ziva has not already heard from one of us,” Shmeil assured him. 

Ziva’s shoulders heaved as she let out a long sigh. 

He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he spoke, “I obviously don’t agree with many of the decisions he made, particularly in regards to his children. But at the end of the day, I think he was doing what he thought was best. He just happened to be wrong.” 

“He just happened to be wrong?” Hinda spat. 

“Doda…” Ziva warned. 

“No, Zivaleh. I am tired of listening to Eli’s excuses. He may have brainwashed you into believing them, but I will not let you bully Anthony into believing them as well.”

Tony sat forward, sliding his arm out from behind Ziva and resting his elbows on his knees, “She hasn’t bullied me into anything. Well - she has - but not with this. I just think that I’m coming at the situation from a bit of a… different angle than the rest of you.” 

“How so?” Shmeil asked. 

“Well, for starters, I didn’t meet Ziva until after Eli did a number on her. I can sit here and listen to you guys tell stories about her tending to a garden or flying off a motorcycle, but I’ll never fully understand what she was like back then.” 

“All the more reason you should be upset,” Hinda grumbled. 

Tony shook his head, “How do I explain this…” 

He looked around the small living room for a few seconds, trying to find some sort of inspiration for-

“Star Wars!” He exclaimed. 

Five heads all turned in his direction, their eye brows furrowed in confusion. 

“A movie. Really?” Ziva asked from beside him. 

“Not just a movie. A series. 7 movies. Filmed and premiered out of order. 3 movies, then 3 prequels, only to return back to the original timeline for the new one.”

“I do not follow,” Adina sighed. 

“Okay… it’s like you guys are watching the series in chronological order, and I’m watching them in the order they premiered. And you,” he pointed a long finger at Ziva, “are Darth Vader.” 

She looked confused, “The guy with the mask?” 

“Exactly,” he brought both his hands up to cover his mouth, creating a deep echoing sound as he pulled out his oldest and most adored character impression, “Luke, I am your father.” 

She had to focus hard to keep the corners of her mouth from curling up into a small smile. They both knew that she would never admit it, but she liked his little impressions. She thought they were cute, even if they were annoying. 

But then she remembered the single Star Wars film he had forced her to watch after one of his million references went over her head, and her face fell a little, “He is the bad guy, yes?” 

“No. Well, yes. But no. That’s just what they want you to think. In the original series, he’s portrayed as a total monster who betrayed his friends and killed his father. It’s not until you get to the prequels that you realize, hey, this Darth guy isn’t so bad. In fact, he was just a normal Jedi until his master took advantage of him and made him a monster.”

“And as the series comes to a close, he gets one of the most epic redemption arcs in movie history when he realizes that he had been duped into using his powers for the wrong side and then kills his master to save his son,” he turned back toward the Aunts, “So, if you guys watched the prequels first, then you would have already known that Darth was actually a good guy before he joined the dark side, making his fall all the more dramatic. But when I watch it in the order that the movies were made, I can’t help but think about how different the story would have been without that corrupt Jedi Master.” 

“And this changes your perception of Eli… how?” 

“Well, when I met Ziva, she was already a Mossad super spy. And yeah, the more I learned about the way her Dad treated her, the more I started hating the guy. But I will never be able to see him the way you guys do because without him, I likely would have never even met her.” 

“Because without what happened in the prequels, there would have been no need for the original series,” Adina nodded along as she slowly made sense of his convoluted explanation. 

“Exactly!” he flashed a dazzling DiNozzo grin at the older woman, thankful that at least someone had been able to follow his train of thought. 

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #4

Just a few marginally related flirting scenes that were too short of post alone. 

“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo’s phone,” Ziva chimed into the speaker as she walked toward the bedroom door and pulled it shut, locking it with a wicked smirk on her face. Tony watched her from where he was sitting on the bed, back up against the headboard.

She listened to the person on the other end, slowly walking toward the bed and leaning her knee against it, “I’m afraid he is busy, McGee. Can I take a message?”

She crawled saucily toward him, catching his eyes and maintaining contact as she listened to her former teammates' explanation. She threw a leg across his hips to straddle him when she approached.

She leaned back, making him squirm at the - uh - pressure on his lower stomach, and walked two fingers up his chest as she clucked her tongue in disapproval, “Sorry, Tim. Tony can’t come in to work right now. He’s about to do something very important.”

She traced her fingers down his jaw before feathering them across his cheek, the dark desire in her eyes making heat spread across the back of his neck.

Her hand dropped from his face as she looked toward the clock on the side table, “I suppose I can send him in after he has finished.”

He ran a hand up the back of her thigh, letting it rest just below the curve of her ass.

She looked back at him and smiled at his action, “I will tell him. He should be there in an hour.”

He pulled on her leg, causing her to lean forward, hovering over him as she balanced on her hand place right next to his head. He moved his grip to her waist, causing the thin material of her shirt to ride up and reveal the ever-growing bump on her lower stomach. He ran one of his hands over it, appreciating its size and roundness, before dropping it lower to dip under the fabric of her silky panties.

She bit her lip, blinking several times before she remembered she was on the phone. She held back a groan and exchanged it instead for a content sigh.

“Make that two,” she practically whispered into the microphone before ending the call and leaning over to put the phone of the table.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he brushed loose hair out of her face.

“For answering your phone?”

“For getting me out of work.”

“Oh, Tony,” she mused as she ducked her head to press her lips to the soft skin just below his ear, “You may not be going in to the office yet, but trust me, you are going to do work.”

---

“I should have gotten one of these years ago. Babies are total chick magnets.”

“Down boy,” she teased as she drew in close to his side, sliding a finger through one of his belt loops, “Am I going to have to put a ring on your finger to keep you subdued?”

His eyes sparkled as he watched her brush a stray curl out of Tali’s face before leaning up to press a kiss to one of her small, fat baby hands, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

She winked at him before holding up her arms, wordlessly asking him to hand over their daughter. He did so reluctantly before bending down to pick up the diaper bag which had been discarded in all the excitement of college girls fawning over the baby.

“I missed you, einayim sheli,” she held Tali up in the air before bringing her down to plant a huge kiss on her cheek, “Did you and Abba have a good day together?”

“Well, she came out in one piece, so that’s good,” he mumbled as he tossed the bag over his shoulder and moved to slip his other arm across hers. Babies weren’t just chick magnets, and he had seen more than one young, good looking college guy turn her way since he handed her Tali.

She rolled her eyes, “I told him you’d be fine. He is a better father than he realizes.”

---

He pushed her back against the metal wall, capturing her lips in a kiss and letting his hands slide up her side, causing her shirt to ride up and expose the soft skin of her lower stomach. 

She responded enthusiastically at first, before seeming to come to her senses and realize where he intended for this to go. She pushed at his shoulders, separating their lips and causing him to move on to licking and sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“This is not happening. We are not conceiving our child in an elevator, Tony.” 

He moved to face her, amusement brimming in his expression, “Okay. How about the break room?” 

“No.” 

“Copy room?” 

“No.”

“Supply closet?” 

She pushed back against him harder, but the soft smile on her lips told him he wasn’t in too much trouble, and she ran her fingers along the collar of his shirt, “We are going to make this child in a bed, just like we did the last one.” 

“Hm. Are you sure it was in a bed? Because, from what I remember, it could have been the bed… or the shower… or the couch… the kitchen table… the kitchen floor…” 

She pulled his lips to hers, smiling through the whole kiss. She wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him against her, thankful, yet again, for the gift of being married to a man who was not only her lover, but her very best friend, and the only one who knew just how to make her laugh, no matter how ridiculous the situation. 

She pulled away one final time, untangling his arms from around her and moving to turn the elevator back on. She didn’t say anything as it ascended to the second floor, just straightened her blouse and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to remove the signs of their activities. She felt him step up behind her, not touching her aside from his chest just barely brushing her shoulder while they waited for the door to open. The elevator came to a stop, and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. 

“You know, the back seat of my car is surprisingly roomy.” 

“The same back seat that we drive our daughter around in?” 

“She sits in a car seat. She doesn’t actually touch the leather. Besides, if we stopped having sex everywhere we put our daughter, we would have to be much better at practicing self-control.”

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #6

Ziva ran a hand across his back as she moved behind him and exited the bathroom. He heard her mumbling to Tali in the other room some phrases in English, some in Hebrew. Then he heard a hollow thump followed by few seconds of silence. 

“Tali? What do you have there?” 

More silence. 

Then a breathless, “Oh.” 

His heart stopped as his brain worked through what was likely happening just 15 feet away from him. He pushed off the counter and moved out of the bathroom at a painstakingly slow pace.

He was right. He saw Ziva sitting on the bed, Tali in her lap, staring down at one of her hands. He didn’t have to look any longer to know what she was holding. The surprised look on her face said it all. 

“Abba!” Tali squealed, alerting her mother to his presence. 

Ziva’s head whipped around, her mouth hanging open slightly as she watched him move to sit beside her on the bed. 

“I knew I should have hidden that better,” he mumbled. 

Her eyes drifted back to the black box in her hand, open and letting the light dance off the diamond. 

“It is beautiful.” 

He grunted, “Well, I knew I had some high standards to meet. It was you who told me never to question an Israeli about diamonds.” 

She didn’t respond, and he started to wonder whether she was even listening to him. 

But suddenly she snapped the box shut and held it out for him.

“Here. I’ll let you hide this again.” 

“Huh?” 

“I’ll be sure to act surprised next time I see it.” 

“Next time?” 

“Yes, Tony. I know you. You must have something planned.” 

He looked down at the box as he moved it from one hand to another, “I do.” 

“And I don’t want to take that away from you.” 

He looked back up and found her watching him, her eyes clear and honest.

He chuckled slightly, looking away again under the weight of the situation, “It involves champagne. And some ridiculously expensive dinner reservations.” 

She smiled, “Sounds like fun.” 

He watched as she adjusted Tali on her lap, moving her around so she could brush extra curls out of the little girl’s face. He kept watching them for a minute, seeing the gentle way his girlfriends hands moved and jostled their daughter. 

He finally shook his head, shifting his body off of the bed and moving to kneel in front of her. 

“I don’t want to wait. I want to do this now.” 

She tucked a patch of curls behind her own ear, peering at him through those impossibly long lashes. A smile spread across her face that reinforced everything he had been thinking over the past few months. It made every second of their decade long love story worth it to see her look at him the way she was right now. 

She picked Tali up off her lap and set her gently on the bed beside her. She leaned forward, letting him grab her left hand and hold it gently between them. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically before meeting his eyes again.

“Okay,” she whispered, “I’m ready.”

He licked his lips as he dug through his brain, accessing the monologue he had been rehearsing and editing for two years, making it perfect for the day when the time was right. 

“Miss David,” he started, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he realized this could be one of the last times he called her that. With any luck, she wouldn’t be a Miss or a David for much longer, “If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would be here today, on one knee in front of a woman as strong and beautiful as you, I would have laughed in their face. If they had told me that woman would be you, my hot israeli partner with a steely eyes and a knack for knives, I would have blown a blood vessel.” 

She laughed, and the sound sent a wave of calm over his body.

“But, by some miracle, I am here, and so are you, and we have been given an entire decade of memories to prepare us for this moment. Sure, they haven’t always been good. We once got locked in a metal box of death together - twice actually if you consider the elevator. And then there was the time I shot your boyfriend.”

“In self defense,” She interjected, knowing that decision and the events afterwards still weighed on him, though he would never admit it. 

“Of course. But then came Somalia, and a summer from hell when I thought you were dead, followed by months of you thinking you would rather be.”

She winced at the memory. 

“But you got through that. How, I still don’t know, but you did.” 

“You played a big part in my healing afterwards,” She reached out and ran her fingers along his jaw, “I could not have done it without you.” 

He smiled and squeezed the hand still resting in his, “That’s sweet, but I’m not so sure it’s true. You’re strong, Ziva. Stronger than the rest of us.  And you’ve been through so much in your short 33 years, and you still manage to light up every room you walk in to. You have every reason to hate the world, and yet you still choose to be happy.”

“I have many reasons to thank the world as well, Neshama,” she tilted her head towards their babbling toddler who clearly had no idea what was going on, but still felt the need to be a part of it with her mumblings. 

“Yeah, I’m getting to her. But first, not only do you choose to be happy, but for some reason you choose to love me. And as if that alone isn’t enough, you choose to let me be a part of your life, of our daughter’s life.” 

“She is your daughter, Tony. I can hardly take credit for that.” 

“But you didn’t have to tell me. You were half a world away when you found out you were pregnant. You could have stayed in Israel and raised her yourself. But you didn’t, and I don’t thank you for that enough. This - Tali, this house, our life together - is everything to me. And you have given me all of it. You’re my best friend, Zi. My partner. The love of my life. My Beshert.”

Her smile grew at the Hebrew word: soulmate. One made specifically for him. Her mind flew back to what felt like a lifetime ago in a dimly lit break room, both of them retrieving snacks for what was looking like a long night of research, when she asked him if he believed in such a thing. His answer had been in jest, as all his answers back then seemed to be, and she had grown annoyed with his coping mechanism already, causing her to walk away before he had a chance to give her a better one. She didn’t know him well enough then to know she should have stayed a few seconds longer and let him get serious. He always got serious eventually. She absently wondered what would have happened if she had waited. What would he have said? Was he as aware of the gravity between them as she was, even back then? Would they have closer to 8 years of love under their belt instead of only 3? 

“We have grown up so much over the years, and I can’t help but think we were growing together the whole time. And now, well, all I want is to grow old with you,” he pulled the small ring out of the box and held it up, “This was my mother’s” 

She nodded, “I thought it might be. It seems she always had great taste.” 

He slid it onto her finger and twirled it around, “Looks like we need to get it resized.” 

She placed a finger under his chin, drawing his attention up to her face, where he saw a look of excitement and growing impatience, “You have not asked the question yet, Ahava.” 

He chuckled, looking away to hide the blush rushing to his face, “Right. I got excited..” 

He pulled her hand closer to him, the ring still on her finger, shining in the low light of their bedroom at night, “Ziva David?”

“Yes?” She beamed down at him, the same look of pure love and affection in her eyes that he saw the day Tali was born. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Tears threatened to breach her eyelids as she looked down at their joined hands. She opened her mouth to answer-

“Muh!” Tali chimed from her spot on the bed where she had managed to turn herself over into a crawling position. 

Ziva turned to her, “What do you think, Tali? Huh? Should I agree to marry your father?” 

“Abba!” she wiggled her way into her mother’s lap, forcing their hands apart, “Abba!”

“I think that was a yes,” he laughed as Tali reached for a handful of Ziva’s curls. 

“Well,” she started as she fought to free her hair from the toddler death grip, “Who am I to disagree with such a sweet face, huh?” 

Tony stood, finding a spot on the bed next to her and reaching for her, running a hand up her cheek and into her hair, gripping the strands much more gently than their daughter had, “So?” 

She smiled, “Yes, Tony. I will marry you.” 

He pulled her lips to his hungrily, jostling the toddler halfway off her mother’s lap.

Ziva caught her effortlessly, not even breaking their contact. Her lips moved against him eagerly, and he started to see the downside of proposing during a late night rendezvous with their kid in the room. However, the proximity of the bed had the potential to be a real convenience. 

Tali did not agree. In fact, she had moved herself to a standing position on Ziva’s legs and was now clawing at their joined faces. They pulled apart reluctantly, glancing down at their daughter as she leaned out toward Tony and tried to press her tiny lips against his. 

He leaned into her and gave her a quick, dramatic kiss before reaching over to take her onto his lap. She laughed, always happy to be closer to her father, and he sat her down with her back against his chest as she pulled at the hair on his arms. 

Ziva sighed, though the annoyance in her voice did not make it to her face, which was still beaming at the two of them, “Always the daddy’s girl, huh? Well, I’ll have you know, he was mine first. It is you,” she tapped Tali’s nose lightly with her pointer finger, causing the little girl to laugh joyfully, “who stole him away.” 

Tony smiled, securing his daughter on his lap with one arm and reaching out to his girlfriend- no his fiancee, with the other, pulling at her waist to get her to inch closer. She did so happily, ducking her head to rest on his shoulder, her warm breath causing goosebumps even through his cotton t-shirt.

[factoffictionwriter]

This is stupid, Tony thought to himself as he stared at his own image on his phone screen and adjusted the old, faded NCIS cap on his head. Completely and totally stupid. Why am I doing this? What even is the point here?

He sighed, lowering the phone and glancing up at the streetlight just in time to catch the walk signal.

The streets of New York City were empty, especially at this hour. He'd spent just over two months in Ziva's Unofficial Academy of the Early Risers (a school in which he had no more say in enrollment than he had in the half dozen boarding schools he'd attended in his life), and his time spent in America felt a whole lot like a midterm. Getting up at the buttcrack of dawn was easy when you had a pushy bedmate to grunt, rollover, and pull half the covers off you in the process of getting up. It was much harder, he found, to maintain the habit when said pushy bedmate was halfway around the world and therefore unable to ease the blow of a blaring alarm clock with a cup of coffee and a good morning kiss.

But alas, he'd managed to maintain his 'proper' morning routine: up by 5, first cup of coffee at 5:05, early morning run by 5:30, second cup of coffee by 5:35, and the rest of the morning to laze around on the couch until it came time to clock in and work (lazing on the couch was a new addition. Back home, such time would be taken up the daily grind of getting a 5-year-old - who unfortunately inherited his sleeping habits instead of her mother's - from bed to bath to school. Funny how he almost wished he could be helping in that routine these days. Almost.)

He'd come to truly cherish those quieter moments of the morning spent huddled around a coffee pot or a muted laptop with his partner. Now his mornings seemed to drag on, and he'd started using any excuse just to run to the corner store. If he went at this hour, there were hardly ever crowds - and the shelves were normally fully stocked.

As he approached another intersection, he noticed a group of what appeared to be teenagers taking up the majority of the sidewalk a little ways in front of him.

"Social Distancing, my love, is easier said than done in a city like New York. Tali and I would much rather have you here. Safe."

"Hm. Did you know Paris has almost twice as many people per square mile compared to New York City?"

Even from thousands of miles apart, he could feel her utter lack of amusement.

"I'm serious, Zi. Things are bad everywhere. I'm just as safe here as I am at home - maybe even safer since I haven't gotten on a plane lately. I'm way more worried about you. You haven't left the house lately, right?"

She let out a slow sigh, clearly signaling that she, much like he, had grown tired of her partner's constant concern.

"No. I have remained home with Tali since the day I spoke with the doctor. Elizabeth has been kind enough to drop off groceries and pick up prescriptions - though I suspect you had a hand in that."

Elizabeth was the high schooler across the street who watched Tali from time to time. He may have - a confession that would never hold up in a court of law - given her a call as soon as he understood the scope of this whole situation. And he may have offered her twice her babysitting rate plus a little bonus for every prescription she fills to go to the store and make sure the girls had everything they needed.

"I just wanted to know that you guys were taken care of."

"Then come on home and take care of us yourself."

Now it was his turn to sigh. Every conversation ended like this these days. Her asking him to come home, him refusing, and both of them growing too frustrated to even muster a quality goodbye. Something had to give. He couldn't keep ending things like this.

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #13

I didn’t realize how many half-finished reunion fics I had. Here’s another one. Gibbs escorts Ziva right back to the family home in Paris (partially because he isn’t sure she’ll make it home alone). 

“It’s on the left.” 

He nodded, licking his lips as he started eyeing the uniformly black numbers contrasting against the white bricks. 

“There,” She raised her hand in a half-hearted gesture that was nearly lost in the dim light of the dashboard.

There was, by some miracle, just enough space for their tiny rental car to slide into an available space on the curb directly across from the indicated unit. 

He cut the engine and turned his careful gaze to her for the first time since they left the airport. She was - 

Gibbs brings the car to a stop almost a full block away from the charming townhome where Tony and Tali are living. He looks over at Ziva,finding that she’s twisting her fingers around and drumming them against her thigh, otherwise a complete mask of forced calm. He muses over how he’s never seen her this nervous and how just a few dozen hours ago her take down the man who had been tormenting her for 6 years and knew very well that she might not make it out of the situation and she hadn’t shown so much as a distant glance that suggested she was at all nervous, but here, sitting outside of a house full of people she loves and who love her so fucking much, she’s practically a mess (by Ziva standards). He asks if she’s ready, and she asks if they’ll still be awake. He shows her a key, one he received in the mail just a month or so after DiNozzo’s departure with little more than a photo and a post-it saying that their door was always open to him. She seems to deflate at the sight of the key. Well, there goes her excuse. 

So they get out of the car and walk the block or so of beautifully lit Parisian streets, giving off a slightly less powerful impact as their daily beauty, but nonetheless still magical. 

They’re walking and she suddenly stops and turns toward a front door, saying this is it. He’s a little taken aback by her actions, and asks if she’s ever been here before. She looks around wistfully before saying that she picked it. And he wants to ask questions, but he tone suggests she won’t answer them. So they go up to the front door, and she goes to knock but he just waves her off and opens it with the key because it’s so late no way they’re gonna answer anyway. 

And they make their way through the quiet home, Ziva leading him up the stairs and down a hallway. She stops in front of a door, opening it a crack and looking puzzled at the inside. Then there is a sound (movement or snoring) from the door at the end of the hall and she seems to realize something. She closes the door and starts walking farther down. But she freezes in front of the new door, so Gibbs has to step up and open it for her. 

Tony and Tali and curled up on the bed, the blue reflection of the TV screen suggesting that they had fallen asleep while watching a movie. Gibbs walks into the room, stepping back into a corner and watching as Ziva steps in slowly and starts making her way around to the side of the bed closest to Tali. 

She brushes a wonky curl off her daughter’s forehead, which causes the girl to stir slightly. She rolls closer to the edge and freezes. It takes Gibbs a moment to notice that the girl is squinting up at her mother. 

“Ima?”

The word was both tired and strained. But it had an immediate effect on the woman. Her hand reached out again, fluffing up some flattened strands on the side of the girls head as she whispered, “Yes, Tateleh.” 

The girls’ head bobbed as if she was trying to get all excited but was just too darn tired to pull it off. So instead, she reached up for the woman’s hand and pulled on it, hard, causing her to slide onto the mattress. Then the girl crawled up to fit into her mother’s chest and sighed happily. 

“Ima.” 

“I’m here, Tali. Get some sleep.” 

It was after this that the sleeping man on the far side of the mattress started to move. His arm slid out, as if expecting to run into the body of his sleeping child,and when it came into contact with Ziva’s thigh, his head jerked up a bit. He too squinted before opening his eyes, but he somehow managed to be much more alert than the small girl had mustered. 

He watched the girls carefully as Ziva buried her hair in Tali’s curls and started rubbing gentle circles into her back. After a minute or so, she managed to lay back, resting her head on the pillow and looking in the direction of tony’s intent eyes. 

“Hi.” she whispered. 

‘Hi.” He mumbled back. 

And  the little girl, who must not have been as knocked out as she certainly looked against her mother’s chest, turned at this, “Abba.”

He reached out to her, resting his hand low on her back in a comforting gesture, “I’m here too, Tali-Mae.” 

That settled the girl even farther. And it wasn’t long until she started emitting her own  little snores that were, admittedly, adorable. 

After it was clear she was asleep, Tony carefully shifted his postion so that he could lean closer to Ziva. He slowly took his hand off his daughter’s back and bushed it over her curls before bringing it up to brush over Ziva’s, then down the side of her face. 

“Ziva.” He whispered. 

She shifted her daughter’s weight so she could free her own hand to bring up and flattened on top of his. 

“Tony, I am so-” 

“No,” he responded too quickly, and too loudly, leaving them to wait several seconds until their toddler stopped squirming, “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with stuff tomorrow. Now…” 

He brushed his hand lower, letting his thumb run across her lower lip as if asking permission, which she willfully granted as she ducked her head and pressed her lips eagerly to his in the low light. 

Gibbs’ eyes wandered around the room for a few seconds until he decided that yeah, that was certainly his que to leave. He wondered if one of those doors they passed in the hallway held a bed, or if he was going to have to wander around until he found a decently sized couch. Just as he was about to step out of the room, Tony spoke. 

“Thanks, Boss.” 

Gibbs just nodded vaguely and stepped out, not sure what exactly he was being thanked for, but figuring that it was sorta a catch all.

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #2

This is also a piece of the multichapter fic in which Ziva returns to DC a few weeks after ppf. Here’s just a peek into an age old Tiva trope.

He had been expecting an apron, but instead she was wearing one of his old OSU t-shirts that fell mercilessly to her upper thigh. She was standing in front of the stove, a clunky book in her hands as she squinted at the pages, concentration drawing her features down. There were two big pots on the burners, and she seemed to be consulting the book for what to do with them next. 

She hadn’t heard him come in, at least she hadn’t led on that she did, and he just couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her. Something on the page seemed to confuse her, and he watched as she captured her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed at it. She turned her head toward the ovens, as if debating whether she should tend to the dish in there before continuing on with the contents of the pans, and then turned back his direction. She jumped the slightest bit when she saw him standing there, and he found it oddly satisfying to have snuck up on a notorious ninja. 

She continued on as if he hadn’t scared her, “You are home…” she turned back toward the ovens for a second to check the time, “... at a perfectly reasonable time. I did not expect you for at least another hour.” 

He bit back a smile and moved to take a seat on one of the bar stools, “It was a slow day. I blew through my case files. Boss couldn’t think up an excuse to keep me.” 

She set down the book, which he could now see was an old Julia Child cookbook he kept on a shelf for posterity. She glanced between the two pots for a fleeting second before deciding that they could both use a good stir, “You blew through desk work? You? Tony, I once watched you balance a pencil on your nose for 2 hours rather than fill out a report.” 

He laughed as she moved on from the pots and made her way to the oven, opening the door and giving Tony a good look at the two large steaks she was nursing.

“Let’s just say that today I was a highly motivated man,” his eyes trailed down her back and over her bare legs as she rolled up onto her toes to get a better view at the cooking meat. His tone must have alerted her to his alternative meaning, as she quickly closed the oven door and turned back his way, letting her hair fall into her face as she leaned against the counter. 

“You have been highly motivated before, I am sure.” 

He shook his head, watching as she slowly drew her hand across her shoulders and neck, sweeping all of her curls to one side, “Never this motivated, no.” 

She considered the statement for a second, then seemed to accept it as she moved back to the pots on the stove. 

Tony looked around the kitchen, “Did you buy food?” 

She shook her head, “You bought food and forgot about it. It was probably months ago. The steaks were in the back of your freezer.” 

He watched her turn off one of the burners and move the pot over to a waiting holder, “It’s probably best that they weren’t found until now. I would never be able to do them justice if I tried to make them.” 

She shrugged, “I also found an old box of macaroni in your cabinet. It’s not much, but I added some vegetables and threw in some spices. It should make for a decent side dish.” 

He gestured to the pot still boiling, “And that one?” 

“Mashed potatoes. Or, it will be, once I actually get around to doing the mashing.” 

He watched her stir the boiling potatoes, gauging how soft they were becoming. A small, intimate smile crept across his lips. 

It was almost a minute before she realized he hadn’t moved and looked up at him. 

Her brows furrowed at his expression, “What is it?” 

He shrugged, “You’re just being so… domestic.” 

“I have cooked for you before.” 

“Yeah, at your place. With clothes on.” 

She looked down at her attire as if just now remembering how little she was wearing, “My clothes are still in the dryer. I did not want to wear the same thing tomorrow without washing them. Plus, I smelled like airplane… and sweat,” she scrunched up her nose for emphasis. “I also used your shower, though I have to admit that your hair care products leave something to be desired.” 

He trained his eyes on the still boiling pot, trying not to imagine her standing in his shower… water running down her skin… suds all over her body…

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t really expecting company. But maybe we can head to the store tonight? Get some more food… maybe some beer… whatever else you may need…”

If his hinting at a prolonged stay surprised her, she didn’t show it. Instead she glanced back down at the large t-shirt hanging loosely on her frame, “My clothes probably won’t be done for a while, and I don’t think I can reasonably go out in public wearing this.” 

“Trust me, no one will mind,” he let himself run his eyes up and down her body again, studying the way the loose cotton folded and twisted around her hips. 

She laughed quietly, reaching down to turn off the final burner and moving the pot onto a cooler one, “It will be late by the time we are done eating anyway. I can go to the store tomorrow while you are at work.” 

“And clothes?”

She nodded, “I will buy some of those while I am out as well.” 

“Why didn’t you bring any with you?” 

She stopped her assault on the soft potatoes for a second, looking up to meet his eyes with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, “I… um… left in a hurry. I did not take the time to pack anything, really.” 

He reached into his suit pocket and fished out his wallet. He pulled out his Mastercard and held it up for her to take. 

She immediately shook her head and pushed his hand away, “I have my own money, Tony.” 

He held the card out again, “You’re not working right now. It’s not a big deal, consider it a gift.” 

She pushed it back again, “Seriously, I do not need it. I am sure I don’t have to remind you that my father was a very powerful man. He had accumulated a considerable amount of wealth in his life, and being the only living relative... Anyway, most of the money was tied up in various assets-”

“Let me guess: diamonds?” 

She smiled, “There were some diamonds, yes, but mostly it was in real estate. He had houses and land all across Israel, and even some over in Europe. I kept a few that had sentimental value, like the ones we used to visit during the summers, but the rest were of no use to me. So I sold them. That is another thing I have been working on this past month.” 

“You sold everything you didn’t want in a month?” 

“Unfortunately, no. There are still a dozen or so listings that I’m waiting on, but I did some damage. The point is, I have more than enough money to pay for myself.” 

She got back to working on the food, and he put his wallet back in his pocket, making a mental note to slide her a 50 tomorrow, just to help cover groceries.  

He resumed his previous line of questioning, “You were in a hurry? What, was this a last minute trip?”

She nodded a little, “I guess you could say that.” 

“Something important you had to do?” 

She looked up, “I would consider what happened last night to be important, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of course,” he stood a little in order to reach across the kitchen island and tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear, “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you came back now. When I left you on that tarmac, you were pretty hell bent on giving all of this up - DC, NCIS, the whole bit. What changed?”

She shook her head, “I am still not returning to NCIS. I meant what I said about giving up the badge. I do not want to chase bad guys anymore.” 

“Okay. But what about DC? And the team? Aren’t we going to pull you right back to where you started?” 

She didn’t respond. Instead she finished up her work on the potatoes and moved on to stirring the mac and cheese concoction for a second before a timer went off and she gracefully pivoted to the oven and removed the masterfully prepared steaks. She set them on the counter and admired her handy work. 

Finally, she said, “Dinner is ready. I think we would both benefit from having some food in our stomachs before we dive into THAT conversation.”

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #12

Okay - this has the potential to be a little controversial, but I’m gonna post some bits and pieces from unused work for Chaval Al Hazman (read actual fic here if you want). This isn’t me giving up on the fic, okay? I swear I’m going to go back to it one day. Once I figure out what I want to do with it. Plus, I’m only posting pieces that won’t be included when I eventually finish it (even if they are, they won’t be in the same form they are here). Mostly alternate scenes to things I already posted. 

“How far is it from Tel Aviv?” He asked, reaching out for his own glass and mirroring her action. 

“Maybe 3 hours on a bad day. Farther than Jerusalem.” 

He nodded as he looked back down at the tiny screen in front of him, propped up precariously on the now almost empty bottle on wine between them, “Okay, so that leaves us with Akko and Be’er Sheva. Oh, right, and Jaffa.” 

“Jaffa is right outside of Tel Aviv, so that will not be hard. Be’er Sheva, on the other hand, is more complicated.” 

“Why? Is it a long drive?” 

She shook her head as she pushed off the marble counter behind her and took the few steps across the kitchen. She leaned forward on the breakfast bar, propping herself on her elbows as she slowly swirled the liquid in her glass, “No. Not too long. There is just so much to see. It could take us weeks to get to everything.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He tried to decipher the look in her eyes, to weed through all her typical layers of defense. 

She looked up from her glass, “Generally, no. But you keep forgetting that we are operating on borrowed time here, Tony. Any day now we could get a call telling us that the issue with Gibbs has blown over and we can return to our jobs.” 

His eyebrows shot up, and he gave her the most mischievous look he could manage, “Who says we have to go? You’re rich. We could hide out here indefinitely.” 

She chuckled, “We? I would be paying for your lifestyle?” 

“Between your mom’s family and what I’m sure is a fat inheritance from your father, I think you could manage it. Besides,” he set his glass down and slid a hand out, barely letting his fingertips brush the skin of her forearm where it sat on the counter between them, “I bet I could come up with a few ways to repay my debts. As long as you’re willing to accept alternative forms of payment.” 

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across her face or the small laugh that accompanied it. 

“As intriguing as I find your offer of alternative payments, I am pretty sure that we both know we won’t be going back to NCIS for the money.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll go back for the guns.” 

She laughed again, setting down her own wine glass this time and leaning a little farther over the bar, “We will go back for the family. Our family.” 

He sighed, running his fingers up her arm one last time before resting his palm on the back of her elbow, “I guess that’s a pretty good reason to go back. Much better than what I thought you were going to say.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Which was?” 

He smirked to himself as he gently tugged at her arm, prompting her to lean even farther over the bar until she must have been standing on her tip toes, “The dead bodies.” 

---

“Borrowed time,” he said, drawing the words out as if testing the way they felt on his tongue before deciding to add, “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” 

Her hands faltered again, and he swore he heard her swallow before speaking, but her words still came out clear and calm, “It is just an expression, Tony.” 

“Well, it’s a bad one. And not very accurate.”

She didn’t respond. 

“And I’m not so sure how I feel about that being the one expression you get right on the first try.” 

Still silent. 

“Because I don’t see us as ‘operating on borrowed time’. I see us as… setting in motion the things that are going to shape the rest of our lives.” 

No response. 

“Like, take the Be’er Shiva thing. Someday, we will visit Be’er Shiva together, and you’ll show me all your favorite things about the place you were born. Whether that happens on this trip, or maybe over a christmas vacation next year, or even in 10 years, I still have this feeling that it will happen.” 

He felt her breath on the back of his neck again as she slowly slid her arms round his waist, the massage seemingly forgotten, “Christmas in the Desert? That doesn’t sound very festive.” 

“Oh, what do you care? You don’t even celebrate Christmas. The point is, we aren’t borrowing time from anyone. It’s ours. We earned it. And nobody else is going to tell us how to spend it.” 

He finished his little speech by reaching up for her hands where they lay flat on his stomach and tangling their fingers together. 

She was quiet for a moment until he felt her shoulders shaking with laughter behind him. 

He turned his head to the side, trying to get a little glimpse of her behind him, and was relieved to find that the motion did not cause stabbing pain. She really was a miracle worker. 

“What’s so funny?” 

She shook her head a little before leaning forward to press her lips against his cheek where she could now reach it, “I just cannot believe that there are people out there, people we spend hours with each day and have worked alongside for years, who truly believe that Tony DiNozzo is a playboy.” 

He sat up straight and turned to face her, regretting the movement when her fingers slid out of his and she let go of his waist, then feeling relieved when she casually dropped her hands to rest on his thighs, “You’re suggesting I’m not.” 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. You are the most hopelessly romantic man I have ever met.” 

He let his hands crawl up her sides until they came to rest on her waist, “I would love to hear how you came to that conclusion.” 

She smiled at him, leaning forward a little as if to emphasize her confidence, “You lost your mother young, and your father hasn’t been able to hold down a relationship since, which taught you that relationships can work, but only with the right people. You went on to date a woman considerably older than you who, in my humble opinion, manipulated you into believing you would be together forever. You proposed, she said yes, then she left you at the altar. Now you don’t trust your own instincts, at least not when it comes to relationships. So you date around, chasing skirts and hoping that one of them will turn out to be right for you, but also never giving them the chance to prove themselves. You love movies because of your mother, but also because you love the idea of a happy ending, especially one that falls into the lap of the main character. You’re terrified of getting hurt, but also of being alone. Which is why you talk so much. When you’re talking, you can’t hear the sound of your own discontent with your life.” 

She gave him a level look, as if daring him to argue with her analysis. 

He sighed, “Wow. Sounds like a catch.” 

She smiled again, and one of her hands slid off his thigh and found its way to his face, gently brushing along his hairline and down to his jaw, “Evidently I thought so.” 

“Any other life shattering observations that you’d like to share with me?” 

Her smile morphed into a smirk as she brought her hand around to the back of his neck, “Depends. Are you aware of your tendency toward women who can kick your ass?” 

---

“Now how the hell would you know that?” 

“Because I know you, Tony,” she said as she ducked her head to press her lips to his neck sweetly, “And I pay attention when you talk.” 

“Could have fooled me,” He mumbled against her collarbone.

She chuckled, “Must we revisit my previous analysis? Or continue on with our discussion of your infatuation with dangerous women?” 

He shook his head, “Let’s not. I think we should dig up something deeply personal about you, huh? How about we discuss why it is you are attracted to men so much older than you?” 

She laughed this time, “I am attracted to older men because older men are attractive. There is no deeper meaning.” 

“Oh, really? So you mean to tell me that you’re here, making out with a guy who is more than 10  years older than you, and I’m supposed to believe that has nothing to do with your emotionally distant and borderline abusive father?” 

“Believe me, Tony, my father is the farthest thing from my mind when I am in bed with a man, no matter his age. And you are not the oldest one I have been with.” 

He scrunched up his face, “Nevermind. I would rather not talk about your sexual encounters of the geriatric kind.”