here’s the thing: NCIS writers, directors and everyone else in the world know the mere mention of ziva will induce panic and probably increase ratings even marginally
don’t get your hopes up for positive (pro-ziva) material anytime soon
it’s just a ploy
Of all the partners she’s had, he’s by far the best. Clumsy and trivial though he sometimes is, he doesn’t ask many questions. He’s quick, and efficient, and he gets the job done. And most importantly, he gets her. One look from her and he’ll know exactly what to do.
So when she hears the light footsteps of someone walking down the hotel corridor, she only has to send him a glance and he stands from where he’s picking the lock to pull her closer. He presses his face into the curve of her neck and plants an unexpected kiss against her skin, and she runs a hand through his hair as she giggles. The intruder approaches, but it’s merely a staff member carrying an empty room service tray, and he sends them a polite but awkward smile and scurries past.
Tony sends her a look, his eyes dark in the early morning light, and returns to his task.
The door is open seconds later, and she pulls her gun from her thigh out of instinct rather than necessity. The darkness of the hall provides them with the perfect cover of night, and she slips through the gap and into the room easily; silently. Tony’s only slightly heavier footfalls follow her, a welcome reassurance.
She finds their couple curled up in bed, sleeping soundly, their hands entwined and their chests rising and falling in tandem. If she didn’t know of their crimes, she’d almost not want to kill them. But she does know, and they’ve been hired for the kill for a reason.
Tony slips into the light by her side, eyeing her as he turns the barrel of his silencer oh so slowly. She nods. They take one each. The couple pay for their actions and her and Tony do their jobs.
"It’s done." she mutters into her phone moments later, watching her partner do the eerily familiar task of removal. He picks up the woman and takes her through to the bathroom, then drags the man across too. The sheets are stained with still-warm blood so he strips them off too, dumping them elsewhere to be found later. It’s this somber, organised side to her partner that scares her most about their job. She hangs up.
"The crew are on their way, we can leave."
He smiles, his eyes lighting up.
"And it’s another successful job for—" he cuts off at the sound of a low beep, coming from the door. Though nobody enters the room, a quick glance over shows the light under the frame blocked by the shadow of a person. Their crew is never that fast.
"Oh, not the window again.” Tony hisses, pouting at her.
She slips off her heels, opening the window and dropping them to the ground, then pushing the glass free from the wall.
"The window. Again."
Pulling up her tight dress to sit round her waist, she clambers out the room with ease, legs swinging to catch her feet on the ledge. She angles herself away from the room.
Tony is less graceful than her, but he still shuffles out, hopping over to the neighbouring windowsill with unexpected skill. He must have been practicising, and she raises an eyebrow, impressed. It’s been years and he still manages to surprise her.
The light in the room clicks on.
"Hello?" They hear, clearly the voice of a waiter confused at finding an empty room. "Huh." The window swings shut unexpectedly, followed by the familiar sound of the lock clicking into place. The light shuts off.
She could almost laugh at the frustrated expression on Tony’s face, but she decides to spare him his dignity.
"What do we do now?"
Her eyes scanning round, she looks to the floor eight storeys down. She can just make out her heels, lying right by the edge of the swimming pool directly below them. It glints blue in the moonlight, their only solution.
"Now? Now, we jump."
She takes Tony’s hand in hers, sends him one last grin, and falls back. He falls with her.
Total WC: 7,935
Chapter WC: 2,750
Summary: "She had nothing left but Eli’s orders—so she followed them, knowing but not caring that she was losing herself in the process." Tali is dead and Ziva is grieving, throwing herself into a string of missions in an attempt to cope. But one assignment is not like the others, and what she finds could turn her world upside down. Preseries AU. T/Z.
His head swiveled around the second he heard the door open, a grin painting his face when he saw it was her.
“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he said as they made their way toward each other.
“I got caught up in traffic,” she excused, and then gave him a knowing smile. “Do not worry, Anthony, I keep my promises.”
“You can just call me Tony.” He bent down to pull on the red sparring gloves, tossing a pair to her. She caught them deftly, without taking her eyes from his.
“Are you sure you want to do this again, Tony?” She teasingly dragged his name out, rolling it around her tongue as he had with hers yesterday. His eyes darkened in response and she made a mental note to do that more often.
“Do what?” he asked, ducking under the ropes and into the ring. She followed close behind him.
“Get your ass kicked.”
He barked a laugh, bristling his shoulders. “How do you know I wasn’t taking it easy on you yesterday, sweetcheeks?”
She cocked an eyebrow dangerously, taking a step forward to bring her once again into his personal space. It had been twenty-four hours since they were in this position but oh, did it feel like they’d never left…
“First: I do not appreciate being called that, and second: how is it that you know it was not me that was taking it easy on you?” She smirked and tapped his cheek teasingly before taking a few steps backward.
“Oh you were, now, were you?” he retorted incredulously.
“I would not want to have bruised your fragile manly ego.”
“I think it’s already been bruised enough, actually,” he joked. “You know, you said you were gonna show me how to throw a better right hook, but you never did.”
“You are right, I did not,” she frowned. “Well then, remind me what I am working with here.” She held her gloved hands in front of her face and nodded to him.
She did not even flinch when he took a breath and swung at her, colliding his knuckles with her palm.
“I see the problem here,” she clucked, tugging off her right glove and circling around behind him. “You are too tense.” He stiffened when she wrapped her hand around his right bicep, squeezing gently. “You need to relax, you are thinking too much. Take a deep breath.”
“It would help if you were not….” he paused as her exhale tickled the back of his neck, “all up against me like this.”
“Are you having trouble controlling yourself? Would you like me to stop, Tony?” A slight, involuntary shudder ran through him at her words.
Honestly I don’t follow that kind of thing but ugh that is annoying
She’s surprised they made it past day one.
56 hours of constant close proximity with her partner, though, not to mention shared quarters with their boss only a room away, and she’s beginning to crack. She’s probably spiralled entirely out of any control when he presses her up against the door of their bunk.
"Tony, we promised we would not…" she grits out, breathily, even as his lips graze her jaw and his hands clutch at her waist with desperation.
"Yeah," he breaks to kiss her again, "But we didn’t know how long this case would take. And," another kiss, "We didn’t know we’d have shared quarters."
She casts a withering glance at the tiny double bunk bed fastened to the wall to their left.
"I wouldn’t quite call it that."
Her attempt at restraint takes another hit as he skims his hands up her sides, fingers brushing just underneath her shirt. His fingers feel cool against the heat of her belly and it makes her jump. The boat sways in the water and she leans more heavily against the door, Tony’s weight pressing all against her.
"We are trying to be subtle about this, Tony, I don’t think doing this with Gibbs in the room next door is particularly sub—"
She trails off when he pulls her shirt up, her arms raising of their own accord to help him.
"So we keep quiet." Tony murmurs, catching her lips with his briefly before pulling off his own shirt.
Crossing her arms, she stares at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge. He blinks, pausing midway through pulling her cargo pants off.
"Okay we might need to work on that. But we shouldn’t be disturbed, at least."
She fights back even as she works to unbutton his jeans.
"We might be."
"Y’know, in college we used to do this thing…"
"There is no handle for that!" she yelps distractedly, gripping onto his shoulders as he hoists her up then swings her round, placing her down on the bottom bunk.
He grins and clambers on top of her haphazardly, his head almost bumping against the shelter above them. The floor would be more effective and probably safer, but she’s too preoccupied with pulling off her bra to point it out.
"Never mind. I waited two days, I don’t care if anyone sees me like this."
He gestures to his state of undress, with only his boxers remaining on him.
"You’ll regret saying that." she murmurs, hooking her legs round him and pulling him down to kiss her.
(When Gibbs finds him sprawled still half-naked on the bottom bunk, Ziva contentedly reading on the top, regret doesn’t even begin to cover it.)
me? have a boyfriend? no, i try to focus on the more important things in life
like crying over character development
Before I return to New York portraits, I want to share some portraits and stories that I gathered on an unscheduled side trip that I took to Jerusalem. Because of the hastily arranged nature of the trip, I worked with some unorthodox interpreters, including an extremely bright sixteen year old Palestinian boy. He approached everyone quite confidently, until we got to this group, and suddenly he got fidgety and clammed up. “Um, I don’t know,” he said. “They, um, will probably say no, um, maybe we should ask someone else.”