#tiva fic amnesty

[television-overload]

Heads Up 7 Up

I was tagged by @loudlooks (thank you!)

Tagging anyone who wants to participate! 7 lines out of context, GO!

🙏🙏🙏 it's been so long since I've written Tiva fanfic (does anyone miss me?), much less finished anything 😭 but I've had this WIP where Tony doesn't get shot at in his apartment in 11x01 on my phone for years now and maybe one day I'll finally get to it and post it 🫡

---

"Did you bring me all the way here just to cook for you, Ms. David?" Tony teased, leaning in closer and taking the ingredients from her hands.

Ziva deviously stared right back at him and said "Yes," with a short nod, though Tony knew she was kidding.

Nevertheless, he got to work preparing his famous spaghetti sauce while Ziva got out the rest of the ingredients for the pasta, garlic bread, and salad. Tony set the sauce to simmer for a while, turning to lean on the counter and look at Ziva some more.

Several possible good conversation starters were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make himself say any of them. You look beautiful. I'm glad I came. I'm in love with you.

[hopeless-nostalgiac]

Abroad: New Tiva Amnesty Fic

(picture credit laura makabresku; gif credit finalfantasyxivonline)

A/N: Originally written in October 2015, but never shared (at least not that I recall) with the fandom. The idea was an AU where college student Tony travels abroad to Tel Aviv, meets IDF soldier Ziva, they fall in love, and then it gets dicey with Eli/Mossad. Very Romeo & Juliet-esque. This section was the prelude. I've tweaked it a little, and it stands on its own. I'll never continue the story, but I'm proud of the writing. Let your imagination fill in the rest. ;)

What to Except: He wants to tell her that he might love her. Maybe. He’s never loved someone like her before.

Word Count: 600

Read on Ao3

@mrsmungus @loudlooks @coffeedepablo @indestinatus @pro-bee @likeanorangeonatoothpick @benedettabeby @mcgeekle @television-overload @ardnaxelx (if you want off/on the list, let me know)

[loudlooks]

Consolation Valentine

Look what I found trying to pay bills and clicking on all the wrong folders on my laptop. Or don’t ‘cause I wrote this well over a year ago and barely edited it. Definitely a tiva fic amnesty ficlet, wouldn’t have bothered to post it if it wasn’t literally Valentine’s Day today.

Apparently inspired by this post by @coffeedepablo (thought you deleted it, then realized the fic is so old it was from before you changed url).

Also on FF and AO3

Prompt: the pining pair getting each other “consolation” Valentine’s Day gifts

Word count: 471

McGee pushes his chair back from his desk. “Boss, can I leave early? I made plans for Valentine’s but I need some extra time to set things up before Delilah gets home.”

Gibbs looks up thoughtfully, smiles softly and closes the file in front of him. “Why don’t we all call it a night.”

Tony looks up at him in surprise, then briefly at Ziva’s confused face. Technically, he doesn’t have anywhere to be, but his stomach begins to twist in knots regardless. As McGee rushes by them with a hurried goodbye, he focuses on his computer screen and closes a few windows, intermittently peeking at Ziva.

He swallows hard, licks his lips. “So, big plans?”

From the corner of his eye he sees Ziva’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah,” Gibbs interrupts as he heads for the elevator.

Tony does a double take at the lightness in his boss’ voice, and frowns at Ziva who sends him an amused smile before she goes back to clearing her desk and logging off.

Rummaging through his backpack to find the gift-wrapped box he bought weeks ago, he clenches his jaw. Did she have plans?

She adjusts her coat, shoulders her bag, and he knows he’s running out of time. His hand is wrapped around the gift inside his backpack when she comes to a stop in front of him.

“Do you have big plans, Tony?”

Her soft smile relaxes the knots in his stomach. “No.”

A glint appears in her eyes as her smile grows. “Care to come over for a home-cooked meal?” She bites her thumb briefly, then gestures widely. “I bought too much food, I would hate to throw it away.”

Even without taking into account how Ziva plans everything meticulously — and stuffs her freezer with precooked meals — he knows it’s the same old song and dance. Relieved, he pulls the gift from his bag and hands it to her, relishing the surprised look on her face.

She turns the gift over slowly, and he can see her mind racing. “I wasn’t sure you were seeing anyone,” he said, then scrapes his throat, “didn’t want you to go empty-handed if you weren’t.”

She bites her bottom lip before carefully unwrapping the gift. Her fingers run over the DVD cover slowly, her lips part and she blinks rapidly.

“You remembered?” She holds up “The Sound of Music” as her eyes search his.

He smiles self-consciously and shrugs. Shouldering his backpack he rounds his desk. “I’ll even watch it with you,” he says as they walk out of the bullpen side by side, closer than strictly necessary, “if you promise not to sing.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” She bumps his arm with her elbow and sniggers.

He glances down at her, warmth spreading through his body and soul, her voice music to his ears.

@youaresoooloved, I’ve barely been on tumblr the past months, so not sure if you’re still reading tiva fanfic and want to be tagged

[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. 

[tivafanfic]

I don't really know any fanfic writers, but if you know of any looking for oneshot ideas, please tell them to write a tiva fic based off of "You Matter to Me" from Waitress. It's the perfect t&z song

Thank you, I just spent three hours listening to the soundtrack again while searching for this video by @smedegaard3105 before replying (okay, it didn’t take three hours to find it, but the music was on repeat and my brain was full of Tiva, so…go check out that video).

Anyway, any T&Z writers inspired to write this? You can find the song on YouTube here.

If you do write something, tag me (@loudlooks) so I can reblog it here.

[loudlooks]

Close Shave

Is Tiva Fic Amnesty still a thing now that Ziva’s officially back? BTW, I’m totally ignoring the “not every fic needs to be published” rule here, consider that a warning.

I don’t remember what time frame I pictured this in, maybe season 5 or 6? As usual, no plot. Loosely inspired by a scene from The X-files (which unfortunately wasn’t even MSR, except in my imagination).

Also on FF and AO3

Word count: 1805

A yank on the drawer handle revealed his electric shaver. Grabbing it with one hand, rubbing the scruff on his chin with the other, he looked up just in time to see Ziva roll her eyes.

“What?”

“Imagine if I shaved my legs at my desk,” she replied testily.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned widely, only mildly disappointed he hadn’t come up with that image before. “Nobody would get any work done,” he said as his eyes wandered to where her legs were hidden behind the cold, hard metal of her desk.

She turned towards her computer screen, but he caught the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly.

“Think of the cleaning crew, Tony,” she said flatly.

Ignoring her comment, he tried to remember what her bare legs looked like while hitting the power button on his shaver. Silence greeted him and he pushed the switch once more.

Nothing.

Resisting the urge to smack it on the side of his desk, he muttered, “Damn it, I charged you yesterday.”

Turning the electric razor over and over in his hand, vigorously  pressing the button a few more times—surely it will work this time—he looked up when Gibbs dumped two items on his desk before heading to the elevator.

He picked up Gibbs’ straight razor and opened it carefully. As the blade glinted in the fluorescent light overhead, he met Ziva’s eyes across the bullpen, and deadpanned, “I think the boss wants me dead.”

She was beside him in a flash, admiring the lethal piece of steel with an eager smile. “I have not used one of those in years.”

“Why did you use a…” He stood up, pushing images of slit throats and blood stains to the back of his mind. “You know what, I don’t wanna know.” He grabbed the shaving gel and pointed it at her. “If I’m not back in ten, call Ducky and tell him to bring a body bag.”

He tried to walk around her, but Ziva stopped him with a finger to his chest. “I am very good with knives, I could give you a shave.”

Staring down at her smiling face, he raised an eyebrow. The gleam in her eyes both worried and excited him. He bit down a smile as angry hornets seemed to take up residence in his stomach.

“Someone’s an eager beaver.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, images of her strong tan legs, and a skimpy bikini bottom flashed to the forefront of his mind.

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, it only made him want to stay in her personal space even longer. Accepting her offer would achieve just that. “Fine,” he said with a calmness he didn’t feel.

Her smile turned mischievous and his brain to mush; he’d always had a soft spot for her dangerous side. It haunted him in his dreams, and occasionally his nightmares.

She grabbed a small towel from her backpack, and almost speed-walked towards the men’s room. He followed her like a puppy—who’s the eager beaver now—his gaze focused on the sway of her hips.

The way she barged into the men’s room like she owned the place sent a tingle down his spine. She kind of did, he supposed, other agents always scattered like roaches afraid of the light when she walked in there.

“This isn’t going to be perfect,” Ziva said as she dumped the towel next to the sink, turned on the hot water tap, then grabbed a stack of paper towels from the dispenser. “But it will be fun.” Her gaze flicked down his body, briefly landing on his lips on the way up.

His smile wavered, then he grimaced into the mirror and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. “I don’t want to end up like Leatherface.” He ignored her look of confusion—as well as the disappointment in himself for once again skirting around their obvious physical attraction—and continued, “Isn’t it ironic that I trust you more with a razor sharp blade against my throat than behind the wheel of a car.”

She roughly pushed him aside with her hip, stepped in front of the sink and glared at his reflection. He patted his cheeks again, making sure that laser sharp look hadn’t rendered a shave unnecessary.

After soaking the towel with hot running water and wringing it out, she handed it to him, and told him to cover his face. He briefly complained about how ridiculously elaborate she was making things, but complied after she raised an eyebrow and tested the sharpness of the razor on a paper towel.

His face and ears warmed exponentially with each passing moment of awkward silence. “I feel like an idiot.” The towel covering his face only half responsible for his mixed feelings.

“Good.”

The hint of amusement in her voice was barely audible, but enough to release the tightness that had settled around his heart. A second later, Ziva pulled the towel away, made room next to the sink and easily lifted herself onto the countertop. As soon as she grabbed hold of his tie, pulling him in between her legs, any sense of awkwardness evaporated. He scanned her face intently, looking—hoping—for...for what exactly? The lingering smell of her shampoo heightened his senses, and he wondered, not for the first time, when she had started getting under his skin quite like this.

Ziva seemed unaffected, preoccupied with lathering up shaving gel in the palms of her hands.

Clinging to the belief that he had gotten better at reading her than even Gibbs, he hoped for a look, he’d settle for a glance—one of those furtive, yet exposed glances she sometimes sent him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

And there it was, so fleeting he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been fixated on her every move. Unaware, her gaze immediately followed what her hands were doing—spreading the gel evenly all over his two-day stubble.

Emboldened by the evanescent look, he smiled faintly and placed his hands on either side of her legs. She narrowed her eyes at a spot close to his ear, fussing with the gel too long for it to be anything other than a distraction.

“Stop smiling,” she said quietly.

His smile widened, she briefly closed her eyes, then met his. “Tony.”

It never seized to amaze him how much she could say with just one word, his name. Not quite an admonishment, more of an acknowledgement, a “not now, but maybe later”.

She held the razor up, and he knew she was right; there wasn’t time to get into any of this now, he had to be clean-shaven and dressed to the nines in half an hour. Why was their timing always off?

He sighed and relaxed his face so she could get to work.

Pulling the skin taut with one hand, she placed the edge of the cold blade against his cheek with the other. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

His eyes flashed to hers. Was she talking about the shaving or that thing between them that they weren’t talking about? The mischievous grin appeared again, only this time it annoyed him more than anything else. He was tired of maintaining the status quo, evading his feelings with humor and banter.

As she moved the blade downwards in slow, even strokes that he could barely feel, he considered the possibility of having read her wrong. Maybe their physical closeness, the intimacy of trusting her to run a blade over his face and throat, had clouded his judgement.

“How attached are you to your sideburns?” She wasn’t even trying to hide the teasing in her voice.

His skin tingled as sweat began to form, frustration building as feelings of doubt settled deep down inside. “Can you stop joking.”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“Hey, I joke to deflect.” Ziva narrowed her eyes. “And, occasionally out of boredom,” he conceded.

She lowered her hands, busied them with cleaning the blade, then looked at him decisively. “I know.” Inhaling deeply, she placed to razor on his other cheek. “Let us  just get this over with.”

Did she mean the shave, or the conversation they had been avoiding for years?

Her hands moved expertly over his face as his drifted to her thighs on their own volition. She stilled her movements, a beat passed before her gaze met his. Open and exposed she bit her bottom lip, then got back to work.

He didn’t dare move his hands until she rinsed the blade and carefully placed it aside. His fingers squeezed gently, feeling the strong muscle underneath the rough denim as she held his gaze.

She dabbed his face clean with wet paper towels, avoiding his gaze again, a myriad of emotions  washing over her eyes, eventually settling on fear.

“It will be dangerous,’ she said gravely.

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about the undercover op, not them. He grinned and squeezed her thighs reassuringly. “You’ll have my back.”

Shaking her head vigorously, she said, “No, Tony, I will be in the van down the road, it could take minutes before I…”

Smoothing her fingers over his cheeks,  her thumbs briefly caressed his lips and she made eye contact.

He smiled gently. “I’ll be careful, I’m gonna want another shave like this.”

She released a breath, fear fading from her eyes as she leaned in closer. Her lips touched his tentatively at first, then firmly. Claiming him, giving him a reason to be extra careful.

The sound of the door handle barely registered in his mind, and was swiftly followed by Ziva’s warm hands on his chest, pushing him backwards as she slid of the countertop, turned and smoothly wiped up some spilled water with a paper towel.

From the corner of his eye he saw the door open and a familiar figure walk in. Briefly looking at Ziva in the mirror, he noticed a light blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, hey, boss,” he said lightly.

Gibbs looked at him with scrutiny, then a gave a small nod. “Nice job, Ziver.”

She turned around, blush gone, that mischievous look that always stirred up the hornets’ nest in his stomach firmly in place. Smiling smugly, she looked from him to Gibbs, and said, “It’s not every day I have the opportunity to put I knife so close to DiNozzo’s throat.”

Gibbs smirked and walked past them without a second glance.

Feeling overly confident he winked at Ziva before quickly gathering his things, and catching up to her at the door. He glanced back at Gibbs, then opened the door for Ziva and whispered, “That was a really close shave.”

[loudlooks]

Guiding Light

Another one for Tiva fic amnesty. Started writing this ages ago, every time I tried to finish I got stuck trying to come up with a decent ending. Time to give up and let go.

Tiva fluff, sort of an episode tag to Newborn King, but honestly, I don’t remember much of that episode or the timeline, so apologies if something is off.

Also on FanFiction and AO3

Summary: Tony sees the light and shows up at Ziva's bearing gifts

Word count: 2086

Juggling two hot beverages behind his back, he knocked on Ziva’s door. He should’ve called first, he thought, wishing she’d open the door already, his mouth going drier with every passing second. Three more raps on her door and he heard faint footsteps heading towards him. He put on his trademark smile and leaned closer to the peephole. She’d roll her eyes, he didn’t actually need to see her to know. And that was why he was here, after all, on Christmas Day, because he knew her. Just, not quite the way he wanted to know her.

The door finally opened, and it was obvious from her peeved expression she wasn’t entirely pleased to see him. “We have another case, already?”

His stomach clenched and smile faltered at her cranky tone; this wasn’t going as planned. And he’d been thinking about how this would go since last night. More like early this morning, really, after they had gotten back to the Navy Yard, with Wendy’s invitation, the newborn baby, Jimmy’s approaching wedding, and, well, the holiday spirit heavy on his mind. It was like a light bulb had started flickering and he was finally seeing things more clearly, more brightly.

He’d needed some more cajoling before the flickering bulb turned into a lighthouse, shining the path he had wanted to walk down for a long time. Gibbs had played a huge part in that—and he probably wouldn’t be too happy with the direction he had unwittingly steered his SFA. But that didn’t really matter, he thought as a smile crept on his lips once more.

“Tony?” Ziva waved a hand in front of his face. “How much eggnog did you have?” She scowled.

He continued smiling like an idiot, and realized he probably should’ve said something by now.

“Do we have a case or not?” The crankiness in her voice made way for exhaustion. Desperation, even. Which was entirely understandable after the night they had had, not to mention the beating she had taken.

His smile wavered once more; that had been one big Russian. He should keep a close eye on her. He’d accepted her trademark “I’m fine”, too preoccupied with Wendy’s Christmas card and his future, but he’d read her preliminary report and knew she would have, at the very least, some serious bruising.

Ziva let out an impatient sigh, then stepped aside, silently inviting him into her apartment.

He was rooted to the spot, though, looking her up and down, wishing he had X-ray vision—not like that, not this time, anyway—to detect any sign of injury or pain.

“I thought you would be at Wendy’s.” She raised her eyebrows slightly at his odd behavior.

He breathed out a laugh and shook his head, then met her gaze. The fatigue seemed to fade from her eyes, and was replaced with curiosity and something indefinable. For a brief moment he was worried he looked like a lovesick teenager. He certainly had trouble finding the right words.

“What’s that smell?” She lifted her chin and sniffed the air as her eyelids dropped halfway.

The flutter he had been feeling all day increased tenfold as a small smile graced her lips. He removed his right hand from behind his back, holding out two cups of warm, chocolaty goodness.

She gave him a suspicious look. “Is everything alright?”

“Can’t a guy drop by to see how his partner’s doing after taking down two assassins?”

She narrowed her eyes, and he was struck by how he hadn’t been able to fool her in what felt like forever.

“That is not why you are here.”

His mouth went dry again, he’d need to drink some of that sugary sweetness before he could delve into that one. Maybe add some rum to his cup, as well.

“You ask for hot chocolate, I deliver.” He waved the cups under her nose, prompting her to take them from him.

Ziva walked towards the couch and sat down. He followed, feeling like a puppy desperate for attention, and sat down next to her. She stared at him for a moment, then looked at the drinks she was holding. Another smile appeared on her lips as she read the name on one of the cups, and honestly, he would never tire of making her smile.

“Elf?” she said with a chuckle and locked eyes with him.

“Call me Santa’s little helper.”

“Tony, no,” she said in mock-disgust, handing him his drink. She leaned back against the couch, removing the lid from her own cup.

Seeing her eyes light up at the tiny marshmallows in the steaming hot liquid, Tony decided he had to learn how to make hot chocolate from scratch. The good stuff, with the real chocolate. Maybe, he could serve it with breakfast, hopefully someday soon.

But then a hint of worry crossed through her mirth, and she said, “You have been uncharacteristically quiet.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she briefly looked down at her drink. “Did you talk to Wendy, at all?”

“No.” He sipped from his drink, needing a moment to gather his thoughts. “No, I went to Gibbs, instead.” He placed his left arm on the back of the couch, the temptation to play with her hair, so teasingly close to his fingers, almost getting the better of him. “We had an interesting conversation, about work and family and cups.” Judging by the look on Ziva’s face, that had only caused more worry and confusion. “I always thought that being a cop and having a family were mutually exclusive, you know.”

Ziva shifted uncomfortably and took a big gulp from the hot chocolate.

A sense of calm and peace came over him as he admitted, “I now realize I can fill two cups.”

She blinked rapidly and looked at the beverages they were both holding. “With…hot chocolate?”

The doubtful look she gave him made his heart melt. For someone who had a reputation of talking too much, he sure had trouble finding the right words. Then again, he often did when it came to matters of the heart.

“I’m not Gibbs, I can have a job and a family.”

Ziva let out a breath and stared at the cup she was now clutching with both hands.

“Then why did you not go to Wendy’s?”

“I did,” he said and watched her shoulders slump. He was once again struck with how exhausted she looked, the chocolate infusion’s effect already fading.

Her jaw clenched and brow furrowed as she peered into her cup of cooling chocolate. When she bit her bottom lip it dawned on him that she was misreading the conversation. “I never made it out of the car, I just needed some kind of closure, I guess.” He waved his hand dismissively, almost spilling the hot chocolate he was still holding. He placed the cup on the table and sat on his leg so he could face her better.

Tony leaned closer, took the cup from her hands and placed it next to his.  Wrapping his hands around hers, she finally met his gaze.

“I do not understand,” she said with a slight shake of the head..

“That card…it was like a spotlight shining on everything I’ve been avoiding ever since Wendy dumped me. Everything that had gone wrong, everything I was too afraid to even hope might go right.” Pausing briefly, he wished he had gone over exactly what to say. He could generally talk someone’s ear off, but there was a lot riding on this

“Christmas…New Year…it’s all about love and hope, isn’t it.” His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands. “And I want to be hopeful for the future. Everything that’s happened the past few days has been like,” he let out a chuckle at the imagery that popped into his mind, “like a star guiding me through the darkness.”

Her brow furrowed and he briefly wondered whether she was having trouble catching up because she was so exhausted, or because she was afraid of getting hurt. He understood her fear of getting hurt all too well, it’s why it had taken him this long to get here.

“Guide you where?” Her voice was unsure, almost timid.

He squeezed her hands reassuringly and couldn’t keep the smile of his face when he replied confidently, “Here, with you.”

Her eyes went wide, and for a moment he feared she would flee. Before driving over he had decided that they could remain friends, best friends, and partners, even if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. If she needed time, or simply reassurance that nothing would change if she didn’t want it to, then he would give her that. Losing his best friend was simply not an option.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel-“

Her lips on his made him lose the ability to speak or think. All he could feel was his heart pounding in his chest, her soft, warm lips eagerly caressing his as her hands slipped from his and pulled him closer by his shirt. His hands drifted to her waist, then to her face as he deepened the kiss and the room seemed to start spinning around them.

He pulled back, touched his forehead to hers and inhaled deeply. The smell of chocolate hit him and he kissed her again, his mind focused on tasting the sugary sweetness on her lips. He smiled, then chuckled against her mouth, knowing without a doubt that for the next few weeks, every time he smelled or tasted hot cocoa he would be reminded of this very moment.

Staring deep into her eyes, he threaded his fingers through her hair, relishing in the softness.

“I was taught to never assume,” he murmured and kissed her nose, “to always double check.” He nudged her nose, and palmed the back of her head. “So, how do you really fe-“

Her lips bruised his as her hand slipped to the nape of his neck, fingers scratching and tugging at the short hairs there.

His whole body ached to close the remaining distance between them, to feel her heart beating against his chest, to run his hands all over her skin. Lifting the hem of her shirt with the hand still at her waist, he slipped his fingers underneath, gently tickling her side before running the palm of his hand up her spine and pulling her closer eagerly.

She flinched, hard, his heart stopped for just a beat.

He pulled back quickly, both hands now framing her face. “You said you were fine.” Concern laced his voice and she glanced away, biting her lip.

“I am fine…and severely bruised.”

Tony pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. He got carried away, should have remembered she couldn’t have walked away from that fight without a scratch. He lowered his hands, slipping them gently down the side of her neck to her shoulders, intent on breaking contact completely—the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again—but dragging out touching her as long as possible, all the same.

Her hands gripped his wrists, grounding him, keeping him connected to her physically. “I will be sore for a couple of days, that’s all.” She smiled reassuringly. “And, I will avoid sleeping on my back.” Her fingers caressed the insides of his wrists, wiping away some of his worries.

“Well,” he said and hooked a finger into her shirt collar, “I distinctly remember you like being on top of me, so that won’t be a problem.”

She snorted, but went willingly when he pulled her closer by her collar as he reclined. As she positioned herself so they would both be comfortable, she peppered his neck and jawline with kisses.

The tension of the past few days drained from his body, and exhaustion set in. He closed his eyes, concentrating on how good it felt to have her so close, on knowing his leap of faith had paid off in the best way possible. And whatever the future had in store for them, he knew they would face it together.

A peck on his lips, then nothing but her warm breath on his face. He opened his eyes slowly to find her staring down at him, eyes full of love and hope. His heartbeat quickened, and it took him a moment to realize he could feel Ziva’s heart beat at the same pace..

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”

“Merriest Christmas ever,” he murmured before claiming her lips with his.

[loudlooks]

Coincidence Ch1

In the spirit of Tiva Fic Amnesty ( @jennonthewire, @sharilynn87 ), I’m abandoning letting go of the very first piece of fiction I wrote since the two grueling creative writing assignments my Dutch teacher gave me when I was 14. The only reason they were grueling is because I kept trying to figure out what the teacher wanted me to write...which was, obviously, counterproductive.

This is a Kill Ari AU, vaguely inspired by a prompt I can’t find anymore.

@ninja-mentalista beta read the first chapter a long time ago and was very helpful. After making the suggested changes, I went to work on the other chapters, got extremely discouraged, and I feel like I sort of left her hanging by quitting; I’m sorry, I really do appreciate the effort you put into the first chapter.

I used to like the story idea and wanted to flesh it out more, focus more on Tony and Ziva getting to know each other under these particular circumstances, but after reading it again two days ago...meh.

The story is finished. Although, if I remember correctly, I did consider writing another chapter, sort of like an epilogue.

So, yeah, if you don’t mind subjecting yourself to my first writing attempt in over two decades; enjoy.

I’m splitting up the story in three chapters because it’s long (and this author note isn’t helping), and read more doesn’t always work properly. I’ll post the next chapter tomorrow...unless you beg me not to.

Edit: ended up posting this on FanFiction and AO3 as well

Word count: 2580

Taking shallow breaths, to keep the smoke out of his plague-scarred lungs, Tony lifted his head, his body still covering a girl. The deafening silence and smoke from the bomb blast disoriented him. Was there further imminent danger? Or had the one suicide bomber been working alone?

The girl underneath him stirred.

Relieved she was alive, he decided now was a good time to mentally check his own body for injuries. Coming up with nothing that seemed too serious, or too painful, Tony slowly got up, warning the girl to stay down.

His now vertical position gave him a better view of the scene. Dozens of people were lying on the ground, some moving, some...not. He could make out dismembered body parts, but tried not to dwell on them. He'd seen some pretty horrible crime scenes as a cop and federal agent, including a few bombings. There was a big difference, though, between seeing the aftermath of a bombing, when the survivors crying out for help had already been taken to a hospital, and experiencing a bombing first hand.

Despite his earlier warning, he could see the girl slowly starting to sit up, a dazed expression on her face. Perhaps she didn't understand English, he thought. Or, more likely, she couldn't hear anything but muffled sounds and ringing, much like him.

Crouching down next to her, Tony forced her to look at him, and slowly asked,  “Are you okay?”

When she gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded her head, he knew she’d understood. He noticed a cut on her forehead that was bleeding, but experience told him it probably wasn't too serious. She looked pretty much unharmed otherwise.

Helping her all the way up, he decided to move her away from the scene, to the bar across the street. A man holding a stack of towels hurried out of the bar, and Tony stopped him momentarily to grab a few of them.

Tony was about to look for victims he could help, when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking over, he saw the girl he’d just saved head towards him. She took a towel from him, her eyes fixed on the still body of a teenager laying nearby. Judging by the look on her face, it was someone she knew.

They both approached the body and started checking for injuries underneath torn and bloody clothes. Tony applied pressure with a towel to the first wound he discovered, which was bleeding profusely. He glanced at the girl crouching at the other side of the body. The teenager’s hands moved fast all over her friend’s motionless body, as if she knew what she was doing. Discovering another heavily bleeding wound on her friend’s leg, she applied pressure to it, looking around her while shouting something in Hebrew.

Tony felt relieved when one of the paramedics finally reached them. The teenage girl started talking and pointing at her friend’s injuries, and after nodding and doing a cursory check, the paramedic waved over a colleague to help carry the injured teenager towards a waiting ambulance.

He saw the worried look of the girl beside him turn to one of determination as she moved to another victim.  Beckoning him over, she guided his hands to where he should put pressure, before moving on to another victim close by.

As more ambulances arrived, there seemed to be no need for them to help anymore, so Tony gestured to the girl to follow him back to the cafe. IDF soldiers were collecting what Tony assumed was evidence of the bombing. He doubted there would be much left of the suicide bomber, though. As his gaze drifted from the carnage across the street, to the girl now sitting next to him, he thanked his lucky stars, and his training, for keeping both of them from sustaining more serious injuries.

Earlier, when he’d seen a man wearing a bulky jacket the Israeli heat didn’t call for, his gut had started to churn. It wasn’t until he’d caught a glimpse of a small device in the man’s hand, with a wire running up his sleeve, that his cop instinct had kicked into full gear. Just as he’d decided to approach the man and try to take him down, the terrorist had looked in his direction and locked eyes with him. His face had morphed into an angry scowl and Tony had known he couldn’t reach him in time to stop him. He'd yelled for everybody to get down, not knowing if it would do any good, and instinctively tackled the person that had been standing closest to him, who looked like she was about to follow a friend in the direction of the bomber. They had barely hit the ground when he’d heard the deafening explosion and felt the heat and shockwave roll over them.

He wondered how things had gone so horribly wrong, so fast. He had come to Tel Aviv a couple of days ago, to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Hamas terrorist that had murdered his partner. It was supposed to have been a relatively easy and safe mission. Yet 4 hours ago, he'd been shot at by sniper—the bullet had barely grazed the top of his shoulder—and now, he’d almost been blown to pieces by a suicide bomber. Not even the prospect of a close encounter of the naked kind with the gorgeous brunette he'd bumped into early that morning, could persuade him to stay in Tel Aviv any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Noticing some improvement in his hearing, he decided to ask the teenage girl her name after introducing himself. One of the girl’s eyebrows shot up as he mentioned being a US federal agent, and she told him her name was Tali.

“No serious injuries, Tali? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“Only some minor scrapes and bruises, that is all. I would be in the hospital with my friend Yael…or worse, if you had not protected me.” She looked down at her hands, caked with dirt and dried blood. “Thank you,” she said, making eye contact, a solemn expression on her face.

“I’d say anytime, but I’d rather not get blown up again,” he said with a smile. Joking to lighten the mood in serious situations had become a knee-jerk reaction over the years.

“Tell me, Special Agent DiNozzo, what is a US federal agent doing in Tel Aviv?” she asked.

He tried to charm his way out of answering the question; officially he wasn't even supposed to be there. So he mentioned an excess of vacation days, beaches and hot Israeli women. He threw in his trademark grin, the one that seemed to work on most women, young and old alike, for good measure.

When she asked him if he always carried a badge when going on vacation, Tony knew he hadn’t been as successful as he'd hoped in claiming to be just another tourist.

He didn’t have to try and change the subject, though, as she pointed at several cuts on his arms, and mentioned that his back appeared to have several more injuries - judging by the blood on his shirt. She suggested escorting him to a hospital. He declined, saying it didn't feel that bad and he'd take care of it later. The hospitals would be too busy right now anyway, and he didn't feel like spending the rest of the day in an overcrowded ER.

And, he thought, I need to bring the boss up to speed, and see if he was able to find out whether he had been targeted by a sniper earlier, or whether that had been part of everyday life in the Middle East.

“Come to my home, I will take care of your injuries. They are covered in dirt, they will become infected if not cleaned properly,” she said. “If you get an infection you will not be able to…enjoy your vacation,” she added, and raised an eyebrow.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, and couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid after the day he was having.

“I volunteer at a hospital,” she explained, “I want to be a doctor. And, it is the least I can do after you saved my life.”

Weighing his options—staying out in the open after almost dying twice in one day didn’t really seem like a good idea, and taking care of the injuries on his back would be a hit and miss effort later on—Tony decided to accept the somewhat professional help. Worrying about injuries becoming infected shouldn't be on his to do list while he waited to hear back from his boss.

***

It was only a 15 minute walk to Tali's apartment, and he had spent most of that time talking about nothing important. Even though she didn't look too freaked out about what had just happened, he knew that asking questions and talking about nonsense had a tendency to put victims somewhat at ease and keep them focused.

The first thing Tony did after entering the apartment was take in his surroundings; a table, some chairs, a book case, two rooms to his left.

Framed pictures on the wall to his right drew his attention; one of 2 young girls, another with 2 girls and an older boy. The last picture, of a young woman wearing the typical olive drab uniform of the IDF, made him clench his jaw. She looked a couple of years younger in the picture, around 18 probably, but that was definitely the woman that had bumped into him earlier that day. No more than an hour before he was shot at by a sniper.

His boss didn't believe in coincidences, and quite frankly, neither did he. Replaying the events of that encounter in his head, his gut started to churn again.

He glanced sideways at Tali, and asked, "Who is that?"

"That is my sister, Ziva. She had just joined the IDF when the picture was taken. You look like you have seen her before?"

"Last time I saw your sister she was trying to kill me."

"That does not sound like Ziva, you must be mistaken," she answered.

Tony looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Well, judging by the picture, she’s in the IDF. Are you implying she never learned how to kill someone in the army?”

"No, I am implying that if my sister received the order to kill you, you would be dead," she said with a somewhat amused expression on her face.

Their conversation halted when they heard the front door opening and closing, followed by a female voice that sounded slightly distressed.

“That would be my sister now,” Tali said. “If what you said is true, and she did try to kill you, you might want to put your hands in the air.”

As soon as Ziva caught a glimpse of Tony standing in her living room, next to her sister, he was staring down the barrel of her gun. She said something to Tali in Hebrew, but all he could make out was that it sounded more like an order than anything else.

“He saved my life, Ziva” Tali blurted out, positioning herself between him and the very angry looking Israeli standing in the doorway.

Ziva’s eyes barely moved away from Tony long enough to look at Tali. If Tony hadn’t been a trained investigator, excelling at reading body language, he would’ve missed it.

“The Hamas bombing?” Ziva questioned in English, then continued in Hebrew, “I tried to call you, you did not answer, so I came here looking for you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” There was a hint of worry in her voice.

“I am not hurt, but Agent DiNozzo is. I said I would help him,” Tali replied in English.

Ziva’s eyes were still trained on Tony, sizing him up. She had briefly made contact with him that morning. According to her orders, he was working with a Hamas terrorist group and she was to take him out.

***

Her father, the deputy director of Mossad, didn’t want to risk Hamas getting a foothold in the US. Mossad had worked with the FBI and CIA before, when American citizens were suspected of helping terrorists, but not always. The Agencies wouldn’t always be very cooperative, and Mossad had taken out targets without their knowing on one or two occasions.

The deputy director had claimed the NCIS agent had become a double agent for Hamas, and his partner of 2 years, Kate Todd, had been killed in the process. Now that Agent DiNozzo was in Israel, he presented an even bigger danger.

Ziva’s stakeout had begun as soon as the American had arrived at the airport three days ago. Early that morning, she had witnessed him meet with one of the female terrorists of the group her brother Ari had infiltrated. According to the deputy director, this jeopardized Ari’s cover and he needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.

Ziva had felt conflicted; during the three days of watching her target from afar, and sometimes from mere feet away, she had seen some behavior that struck her as odd. Her gut had told her there was more to this American than met the eye. Overhearing parts of the agent’s phone conversation after his meeting with the female terrorist, she had concluded that Tony DiNozzo had in fact not gone rogue, but was trying to infiltrate her brother��s group himself.

To what purpose, she did not know.

That morning, her father had impatiently asked her what was taking her so long. It became clear to her that the order to kill the American wasn’t open for discussion. Well, were orders ever open for discussion? So Ziva had kept her mouth shut and told him she would complete her mission that day.

Going against Mossad protocol, she had made contact with the American an hour later. Deciding a casual chat would reveal a lot about his true intentions, she had bumped into him, spilling a drink all over his shirt. Not exactly an original move, but it always worked.

Flirting with him, she had quickly learned he wasn’t expecting to be in Israel much longer. The way he was distracted by her legs – she knew wearing a short dress for this stint was the right decision– gave her plenty of opportunity to extract some more information from him. To get a feel for what kind of a person he was.

She was a good judge of character and she knew how to read people. It was part of what made her so good at her job. Unfortunately, that was also the part that sometimes made it difficult to follow orders blindly.

Ziva had hoped her little stint would’ve appeased her doubts. It hadn’t.  At all.

She was now convinced her father had either kept important details from her, or was given wrong information. Knowing she couldn’t blatantly disregard a direct order from the deputy director of Mossad, she decided to blow the mission.

An hour after “accidentally” bumping into the agent, she had watched him sip a coffee through the scope of her sniper rifle, from a roof top across the street. She had thought one bullet, barely scraping his shoulder, would be enough to make her father think she was intent on finishing the job, and hopefully make the American contact his higher-ups for an extraction.

Part 2

[loudlooks]

Coincidence Ch3

Last chapter of the Kill Ari AU.

Part 1, part 2

Word count: 3610

True to her word, 15 minutes later Tony and Ziva were walking up to the warehouse entrance. Tony on shaky legs, he was pretty sure the Israeli had just tried to kill him during the short drive. A drive that would’ve taken any normal person without a death wish at least twice as long.

A thorough sweep of the warehouse proved they were indeed the first ones there. As agreed earlier, Ziva took up a hidden position behind Tony. When she had asked Ari on the phone if he had killed the NCIS agent he had denied having anything to do with it. By staying hidden and letting DiNozzo do all the talking, she hoped Ari would be more inclined to talk about what really happened, assuming DiNozzo was telling the truth. And if either man posed a risk, she would be in the perfect position to take him out.

With about 10 minutes left before Ari’s arrival, Tony decided to check in with Gibbs and give him an update of everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. No doubt his team was still trying to figure out why he had been targeted by a sniper. After explaining how he had run into the sniper after surviving the bombing, he told him about the current plan to get Ari to admit to Kate’s murder. Gibbs was less than pleased with the fact that, not only was Tony unarmed, he had to rely on an assassin who had tried to kill him earlier that day—and who clearly had ties to Ari—to provide back-up.

With a promise to contact NCIS as soon as the meeting was over, Tony hung up the phone, just as he heard the door to the warehouse open.

(Read more on FanFiction or AO3)

[loudlooks]

Coincidence Ch2

As promised, the second part of the Kill Ari AU I’m posting for Tiva Fic Amnesty.

More details in the A/N of Part 1

Word count: 2370 

“You tried to kill me this morning,” Tony said, not taking his eyes of Ziva.

Ziva’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Clearly she had underestimated this Agent DiNozzo. There was no way he could’ve known it was her on the rooftop. He must’ve put two and two together and figured that her bumping into him earlier that day was not a coincidence.

“If I had tried to kill you, you would not be standing here.”

“That’s what your sister said. So why didn’t you? Didn’t want to remove my handsome features from the gene pool?” he quipped. When in doubt, deflect with humor, that was his motto, anyway. His joking had proved useful on many occasions; distracting suspects, putting victims at ease. It also earned him a head slap from his boss every now and then.

The fact that he wasn’t on the floor in a pool of his own blood reassured him, ever so slightly, that Ziva must have had a good reason not to kill him. Having a gun aimed at his head was getting on his nerves, though.

“You can lower the gun, you know, I’m unarmed. It’s surprisingly hard to bring a gun into Israel, even for a US federal agent with all the right papers.”

He was pretty sure she already knew he was a federal agent, but figured it couldn’t hurt to remind her. The US government would not take kindly to a dead federal agent on Israeli soil. And Israel needed all the help they could get from their allies.

“You do not need a gun to kill someone,” Ziva replied

“Well, I don’t see anything here I could possibly use as a weapon, so I think –“

He had been slowly lowering his hands, when a little flick upwards of the barrel of the gun made him think better of it.

“Seriously, I’m not a threat,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm and even. “I’m in Israel to find information on the Hamas terrorist who killed my partner.”

For the second time, he saw Ziva’s eyes narrow. That had clearly struck a nerve.

She said something in Hebrew, and he saw Tali give him a look of sympathy, before walking towards another room. He swallowed hard, this did not look good for him.

He opened his mouth to postpone whatever would surely be coming next, when he saw Ziva nod towards one of the chairs.

“Hands on the table.”

Sitting down slowly, placing his hands on the table he noticed a slight change in her expression. She seemed somewhat amused by the way he had reacted to her sending her sister to another room.

Sliding the chair opposite him away from the table and sitting down, she put away her gun.

This seemed to ease his nerves. At least, until Ziva commented that there were at least five other objects within arm’s reach that she could kill him with.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Tony deadpanned.

“Talk.”

Tony had been told to shut up plenty of times, never to start talking. So in order to try and throw the Israeli off her game, he started rattling off his life story. Beginning at his earliest memories at the age of three.

She indulged him for a couple of minutes. When he was telling the story, in detail, of how he had set fire to his parents’ kitchen at the age of five, though, Ziva realized they could be there all week.

“I created a very extensive background file on you, Agent DiNozzo-“

“That’s Very Special Agent DiNozzo,” he interrupted.

“I suggest you start talking voluntarily about what you’re doing here. Unless you want me to practice my interrogation techniques on you. Techniques which happen to be very illegal in the US.”

Staring her in the eye for a couple of seconds, he concluded that his usual banter wouldn’t faze her. Remembering the look Tali had given him and the fact that he was out here with no back-up, he figured telling the truth would seriously increase his chances of not being sent home in a body bag. Assuming the Israelis wouldn’t just make his body disappear altogether.

Explaining everything that happened, from a certain Hamas terrorist breaking into the Navy Yard to standing next to his partner when she was shot, he ended with how he had come to Tel Aviv trying to find out where Ari was.

Even though her face remained expressionless throughout, her eyes told she was unaware of the details of what went down in the US with Hamas.

“Now you know my story, tell me, why does the IDF want me dead?”

“Who says the IDF wants you dead?” she replied.

“I saw the picture of you in uniform…” He touched a finger to his lips. “Wait, you’re not IDF anymore are you?”

A smirk appeared on Ziva’s face, when she saw the intrigue on Tony’s face.

“You’re Mossad,” he said matter of factly.

He started grinning, unable to hide how much he liked how this situation was turning into something out of a Bond movie. He briefly wondered if he would be as successful with this exotic female spy as Bond always was in the movies.

Before he could make a lewd Bond girl reference, though, Ziva’s cell phone rang. Never taking her eyes of him, smirk still in place because of the excitement she now saw in his eyes, she answered the phone.

From the tone of the conversation, Tony concluded it wasn’t going well.

“Lover’s quarrel?” he said as she hung up the phone, a look of annoyance gracing her beautiful features.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said “That was the deputy director of Mossad…inquiring why you are still alive.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but I’ve been wondering the same thing. From what I’ve gathered from your sister, you’re not exactly the type to question orders.”

“What evidence do you have that Ari killed your partner?”

Tony weighed his options after she completely ignored his question; refusing cooperation with the agency that put a hit on him, trying to charm her pants off, or trusting his gut and confiding in the assassin that was sent to kill him. He didn’t exactly see the first two options ending well—very graphic images of a bullet in his head and a possible castration came to mind—he decided to go with his gut.

“We matched the bullet that killed Kate to his rifle.”

“That is hardly evidence,” Ziva said.

“A little bird at the FBI told us Ari’s actually a Mossad operative, working deep undercover. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Tony studied her face, hoping she would give away something. Anything. Then he continued, “Everything we’ve been able to dig up so far points to Ari having gone rogue. Is that why your director wants me dead? Because he doesn’t want anyone to find out he lost control of one of his officers?”

“Ari has not gone rogue.”

The clipped tone of voice and flash of anger he had seen on her face, told Tony he had finally gotten under her skin. He took that as a sign to probe around some more. Maybe he’d finally get some answers this time.

“Looks like I struck a cord,” he said.

Her brow furrowed, not understanding.

“What is he, your boyfriend?”

No reaction. Not exactly what he’d expected. Seeing how her face had gone completely blank again, Tony was pretty sure she wouldn’t lose control again.

Ignoring the question, she said, “My orders were to kill a rogue NCIS agent who took up communication with Ari’s terrorist group.” She looked at him pointedly, leaving no room for error as to who that NCIS agent was. “I hope you realize that if you ever tell anyone about what I just told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re all about the killing aren’t you?” he said, not sure what to make of this turn of events. “Where exactly did Mossad get that information from?”

“Ari.”

Tony felt his eyes go wide, realizing he was in real trouble if the deputy director of Mossad believed one of his undercover operatives, who had clearly crossed over to the dark side. With no back-up, he had no choice but to trust the Mossad officer in front of him to help him set things straight. Seeing as Ziva clearly wasn’t allowed to discuss her mission with anyone, there’s no way she would allow him to call the director of NCIS to clear things up with Mossad.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me- “

“You are right, I do not.”

“But,” he continued, “I told you the truth.” He looked in her eyes, willing her to believe him.

“I believe him,” Tali said, standing in the doorway.

Ziva hadn’t taken her eyes of Tony the whole conversation, but now her eyes quickly darted into the direction of her sister. Tony realized having Tali there could be to his advantage; maybe Tali could convince Ziva to help him.

“If I truly had gone rogue, joining Hamas, why would I’ve bothered to save an Israeli during a Hamas bombing?”

Again, Ziva’s eyes flicked towards Tali, who was now standing at Tony’s side of the table. Ziva had to give her credit for staying well outside of his reach, though, should he try something desperate. Biting his tongue—he had the feeling starting to babble would increase the risk of Ziva becoming frustrated and taking it out on him—he just kept looking into her eyes.

He could tell she was putting all the pieces together, trying to come up with a logical conclusion to the predicament they found themselves in. Should she trust him, a foreign agent, over a coworker? Tony wasn’t so sure she would. The increasing doubt he saw in her eyes didn’t give him much hope.

Fortunately, Tali explained Tony didn’t know they were sisters until he saw Ziva’s picture on the mantle and asked about her.

Opening the first aid kit she had brought in from the other room, Tali inquired, in a tone that told her sister it was not open for discussion, if it was okay to care for Tony’s wounds. She knew enough about Mossad interrogations that tending to a prisoner’s wounds wasn’t even on the list, unless there was a chance of the prisoner dying before spilling the information they needed. Ziva nodded her consent and Tali asked him to remove his shirt so she could check his injuries.

He couldn’t stop the smirk that formed on his lips as he watched Ziva’s eyes lower to his chest after he had removed his shirt.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

“Just making sure my earlier assessment of your level of fitness was correct,” she replied. The unimpressed look she gave him, brought his ego down a notch or two. Not so much because of what she’d said , but the way she’d said it. He’d been on the receiving end of comments like that before from female coworkers, including his late partner Kate. The main difference was that they always sounded snarky, which Tony took as proof that he was getting under their skin, making them uncomfortable. Their body language always gave them away. Ziva, however, wasn’t giving anything away. And trying to determine whether she really was unimpressed or just very good at hiding it was giving him a headache.

While Tali took care of his injuries, which were as he'd assumed relatively superficial and didn't require stitching, Tony tried again to get the Mossad agent on his side. Ziva eventually suggested to set up a meeting between Tony and Ari. She would stay in the background, in case anything went wrong and Ari did turn out to be a double agent.

She left the room to call Ari and set up the meeting. And while he could hear, but not understand the hushed Hebrew coming from the other room. The fact that Tali appeared to have become increasingly more nervous during the conversation about Ari, hadn't escaped his attention. She seemed to be more focused on trying to listen in on the phone call than tend to his wounds. There was definite worry on her face.

He was just about to ask her what was wrong, when Ziva entered the room again, a hard look on her face. She briefly glanced at Tony, before turning her gaze on her younger sister.

Whatever Tali asked her sister in Hebrew made Tony wonder whether teaming up with a Mossad agent who was defying orders to meet with another Mossad agent who had gone rogue was such a bright idea. He didn't have any back-up, besides Ziva, and to be completely honest, he wasn't entirely convinced she was coming along as his back-up or Ari's.

He could see something shift in Ziva's eyes after hearing her sister’s distressed question. There was conflict there. Looking back at Tali he could see conflict on her face as well. He was clearly missing out on some important detail.

Ziva's answer came in a clipped tone, and he could tell she was trying hard not to let any emotion show.

Tali looked away, blinking rapidly. He could tell she was trying hard not to cry. Tired of not knowing what was going on between them, he directed his attention to Tali, thinking he had a better chance of getting a glimpse of an answer from her than from the Mossad officer.

"Do you know Ari?"

Before her sister had a chance to answer, Ziva replied "Yes, he came over to discuss a mission a couple of months ago." She gave her sister a look which clearly told her the conversation was over. "You are meeting Ari at an abandoned warehouse in an hour," she said. "We can be there in 15 minutes. I suggest we leave now and discuss the details on the way over. Ari will not be able to make it there sooner, so we will have the advantage of inspecting the warehouse layout before the meeting."

[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]

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.”

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #8

Some distantly connected scenes involving Tony/Tali interaction. Way too short to post alone, so here they are. (The third one is years after the first two, just to be clear.)

“Come on, Waddles, throw me a bone here,” he begged. 

Ziva pursed her lips, “She doesn’t like when you call her that.” 

He rolled his eyes, “How do you know? Did she tell you?” 

She sighed and held out a hand, gesturing for him to give her the spoon. He did so reluctantly, accepting the fact that this must be a mommy-day.

“Tali, open up,” she said in her best mommy-voice, moving the spoon slowly towards the squirming child. 

Tali hesitated, seeming to look between her Ima and Abba as if weighing her odds of winning in the situation, before finally opening wide and letting Ziva feed her. 

Tony stared, dumbfounded, “How do you do that?” 

She shrugged as she picked up the jar of food and loaded the spoon up again, “It’s like training a dog. You have to establish dominance.” 

“I’m dominant.” 

She tossed her head back as she laughed, “You think you are dominant over her? Tony, you walked sideways for a week after you slept on the floor because she fell asleep on your chest and you didn’t want to wake her.” 

“She looked too peaceful to wake up!” 

“And what about the movie posters she tore up because you didn’t have the heart to take them away from her?” 

“She was interested in bond, babe! What am I supposed to do, squash her interest in one of the best ongoing franchises of all time?” 

---

“Alright, little booger. What will we have to eat on this fine morning?,” Tony held up two equally unappealing tupperware containers to read as he slid onto the chair seated in front of his daughter’s highchair, “Do we want some mushy baby oatmeal? Or mushy baby cereal?”

Tali scrunched up her face as she twisted back in forth in her seat.

“That’s what I’m saying. Oatmeal it is.”

He twisted open the jar and dipped a spoon inside. He held the goop up to her face and she kindly declined by turning her cheek.

Tony sighed, “Can’t say I blame you.”

Ziva came around the corner in tight leggings and a loose tank top. She dropped her gym bag, or more appropriately her work bag since she really only used it when she was meeting with clients, on the floor beside the table and went to get some water.

“Babe, do we have anything for Tali that is… I don’t know… edible?”

She shook her head as she set down her glass and reached for the bag of bagels, “I am afraid we do not. Mush and goop are the best we can do for now. Until she decides to grow the rest of those teeth.”

“Can she split a bagel with me? If I tear it up into little pieces for her?”

Ziva hesitated as she looked down at the grain-filled snack. But when she looked back up, both her boyfriend and her daughter were giving her equally pathetic puppy dog eyes. It just wasn’t fair.

“Fine. Very small pieces,” she said as she reached into the bag and pulled one out.

Tony turned to his daughter and held up his hand. She pushed her palm against his in what was clearly meant as a high five.

Ziva shook her head, this time disapproving, “You two are a dangerous together, you know that?”

She went to put the bagel on the plastic ‘table’ in front of Tali and Tony stopped her, “Can you put my half in the toaster?”

She looked at him skeptically, “Can you not do that yourself?”

He scoffed, “I am feeding our daughter, Ziva. I’m a little busy.”

She sighed and pulled the bagel apart, leaving one half in front of her daughter and moving to shove the other in the toaster oven for a minute.

He was smiling at her when she turned around, “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

---

Tony gnawed on his lower lip, carefully turning the inflated piece of latex over in his hands. He fiddled with it, twisting and bending different parts until finally, finally, he got an idea. 

“Alright,” He muttered while carefully holding the bottom half of the glove and twisting it a few times, “How’s this?” 

He held his modified glove up to the flashlight, causing it to cast a shadow on the far wall: a particularly round top with three strategically spread out fingers emanating from the bottom. It seemed like a slam dunk. She had to recognize this one, right? What other animal had a bulbous head and several- 

“Chicken!” Tali exclaimed, whipping her head in his direction and sending her canopy of curls flying in her wake. 

Chicken? Tony squinted at the shadow for a few seconds. How had she landed on chicken?

“Uh, no, T. Not quite. See, these are like-” 

“Fishie!” 

“Well, that’s closer. It’s like-”

“Puppy dog!” 

“Puppy…” He let out a sigh, feeling genuinely defeated for a long moment. But then he caught a glance of his daughter, having rolled onto her knees and pressed her lips together in an all too familiar smirk, and chuckled. “Alright, alright. You’re messing with me.” 

She nodded, reaching out to flick one of the ‘tentacles’ for emphasis, “It’s an octopus… with only three legs.” 

“Everyone’s a critic, eh?

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #5

Another piece of the multichapter fic. What you need to know: Ziva returned weeks after ppf. Now she and Tony are in a relationship and preparing to birth/raise a child together. This is their first ultrasound.

I remember learning so much about pregnancy while trying to research this chapter, but it’s still probably inaccurate. All the more reason to include it in amnesty. 

Remember: these are old. Be nice. 

Tony winced as a nurse in blue stuck a needle into his girlfriend’s arm and drew blood into a series of small vials. Ziva was totally calm and at ease throughout the entire process, and he found himself asking her how the hell she did that after the mean blood-stealing nurse had walked out of their small exam room.

“Not everyone is afraid of needles, Tony.” 

He made a face, “Well they would be if they ever had the plague.” 

She shrugged and turned to listen to another nurse who was holding up a small cup and giving her directions to the nearest bathroom. She slid off the table effortlessly and shot him a wink as she moved past him and out the door. 

“Did you say you had the plague?” Yet another nurse was holding up a clipboard and addressing him.

“Uh, yeah. White pestis.” 

She looked at him incredulously, “How the hell did you get pneumonic plague in the 21st century?” 

He grimaced, “Occupational hazard, I suppose.” 

She just stared at him for another second before glancing down at the clipboard, “Well, that isn’t one of the diseases on my list, and I don’t think it would have any effect on your potential offspring, but I’ll mention it to the doctor just to be safe. Any other medical conditions we should know about? Anything that runs in the family?” 

He swallowed, finding this miniature interrogation to be much less tolerable without Ziva in the room, sending him reassuring looks every time the nurse made any sort of concerned comment.

“Just dangerous charm and good looks,” he smiled awkwardly, finding that his normal jokes were much harder to pull when confronted with the possibility of passing on some horrible genetic disorder to his kid. 

The nurse didn’t roll her eyes, thankfully, and she went on to make several marks on the paper in front of her. Once she seemed to be done, she stood back a bit and gave him a once-over.

“Why did you wait so long?” She asked. 

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?” 

“To have kids. Why did you wait?” 

He looked around desperately, sending telepathic pleas to Ziva, wherever she was, to return quickly, “Uh, that feels like a pretty weighted question.”

She shrugged, “Not really. It’s just- you’re considerably older than most of the men we have come through here.” 

He stared at her, mouth open, completely unsure of how to respond.

“Am I older than most of the women you see here?” Ziva’s voice was in the doorway as she placed the now full cup on a table just outside where she had been told the nurse would grab it. 

The nurse seemed surprised, “Uh, no, actually. You fit the age range quite well, Miss David.” 

Ziva made her way back across the room to the table, purposely walking between him and the nosy nurse on her way, forcing the woman to take another step away from him, “That’s good, considering my age is likely to have a much more profound impact on the health of our child.” 

Her words seemed to draw the nurse out of whatever unprofessional daze she was in, and she quickly dismissed herself from the exam room saying she would talk to the doctor and they would return shortly. 

Once she was gone, Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Thank you.” 

She smirked, “What? You cannot handle the interrogation when it’s you in the hot spot?” 

“Hot seat. And no, I can handle an interrogation just fine. That- “he gestured in front of him, referencing the awkward conversation for more emphasis, “That was a full on ambush.” 

“She is one small woman. How could she have ambushed you?” 

He stood from what had been referenced to him as the “daddy chair” and joined her at the exam table, “She’s good, that’s how. She starts with the simple, innocent questions. Then she starts digging around, asking if you’ve been exposed to this and if you’ve ever contracted that. And then, when she has you right where she wants you: BAM! She attacks a man’s age. I have a feeling that wasn’t the first time she did that dance. I’m almost impressed by her strategy.” 

Ziva rolled her eyes, “She was only asking questions to gauge the health risks of the child, Tony. She was doing her job.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. How come you didn’t have to go through your own trip down memory lane? Doesn’t your medical history matter, too?” 

She shrugged, “I have been a patient here for years. Dr. Brown already has my medical history.”

“You’ve been going to a pregnancy doctor for years?” 

“She is an OBGYN,” she watched as his face contorted at the word and knew she would have to explain more, “That means she-” 

“Takes care of mommies and not yet mommies all the same,” A woman with auburn hair and a comically small pair of glasses on a chain around her neck entered the room gracefully, moving immediately to Ziva’s side, leaving her flanked by her boyfriend and her doctor.

“Oh, Ziva. It is always a pleasure. It has been too long,” she glanced down towards her stomach at that comment, “And I suppose that is why we are here today. You know that 99% effective promise only holds true if you show up to receive your shots, right?” 

Ziva looked down, embarrassed for blowing off her health in the midst of all the chaos of the last year.

The doctor took that opportunity to address the other half of the couple, “And you must be the father,” she held out her hand, “My name is Dr. Cynthia Brown, and I will be taking care of your baby, and the mama.” 

“Tony,” he responded, shaking her hand automatically. 

“I wish I could say that I’ve heard great things about you, Tony, but I can’t say that Ziva has ever mentioned you. Have you two been together long?” 

Ziva’s eyes wandered around the room awkwardly, clearly uneasy about the situation. 

He took it upon himself to reply, “We haven’t been officially together for very long, but it’s complicated.” 

Dr. Brown looked fondly at the two of them, “It always is with baby daddies. Now, I want to be transparent with both of you. Based on Ziva’s medical history, I am labeling this as a high risk pregnancy without even examining the fetus. It is just a precaution on my side, and nothing to worry about for now. However, I do want to see you every 6 weeks to check in and make sure things are progressing the way they should,” She took a step closer to Ziva and gently took her hand, “I am not saying you are going to have complications, sweetheart. I am just being careful.”

Ziva nodded, only letting her eyes flutter toward Tony’s concerned expression for a second, “Thank you, Cynthia.”

The Doc turned around and retrieved a cart from behind a curtain, rolling it toward the table so they could all see it, “Most parents are the most excited - and nervous - about the ultrasound, so I say we get that out of the way first. When did you say your last menstrual period was?” 

“September 25. But I know we conceived around October 4th,” she sent Tony a heavy look, and he had to fight back a cheeky smile at the thought of those few days when they locked themselves in her parent’s farm house and did nothing but revel in their new found and quickly fleeting intimacy. 

“Right. So that should put you around the 7 or 8 week mark, so there is a good chance we will be able to hear the heartbeat today,” the doctor started fumbling with the machinery and the screen on the top turned on. 

“Okay, Mommy, I’m going to ask you to change into this gown really quick. You can step behind that curtain if you would like,” she gestured towards the back corner and Ziva obediently hopped off the table and went to change. 

“I thought ultrasounds were just done on the stomach. Why does she need to be in a gown?” 

“You must watch a lot of movies, Tony?” 

Ziva let out a hearty laugh from behind the curtain.

“I guess you could say that,” he answered.

“Well, then you must know that in movies they often sacrifice accuracy to make a situation seem less awkward. In the real world, the first ultrasound is normally done transvaginally since the fetus is too small to see in a typical one,” Dr. Brown reached underneath the exam table and lifted two metal bars with tube like attachments on top. 

Tony wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. 

Ziva returned in her hospital robe and hopped up on the table, unphased by the appearance of the metal contraptions. She laid back on the table and reached for his hand, pulling him closer toward her head as the doc lifted each of her legs and guided them into the waiting stirrups. 

“Don’t make this weird, Tony.” 

He looked pointedly at her lower half as the doc pulled out a long tubular instrument and approached the table, “Everything about this is weird. I’m the least weird part of this right now.” 

She rolled her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that day and nodded toward Dr. Brown, giving her the okay to start the exam.