Title: How It Happens
Summary: a pair of views on a night together (TIVA)
Warnings: mention of grown-up stuff. (Oh my, teeth-brushing!) Also, some non-canonical stuff, like Ziva's facebook, because I wrote this before seeing that. Also, un-betaed.
Disclaimer: mine for the summer, kay? :D
Ziva drives Tony home, because his car's in the shop. They drive in stony silence, each still smarting from the comments they hurled at each other today in the bullpen, each standing behind their desks, tempers boiling over after the specter of Jeanne reared her head in another case.
Tony drives Ziva home, because her car's in the shop. He keeps up a constant stream of chatter, jokes, and teasing, mostly about how her car wound up in the shop. At the second to last stoplight before Ziva's place they happen to fall silent, and they merely look at each other with matching half-smiles. The light turns green, they go.
Ziva lurches to a halt in front of Tony's place. He makes no move to exit, but scrubs his face in his hands and sighs. Ziva taps the steering wheel impatiently, but then she lets out a long exhalation as well. They each try to apologize in the same moment.
Tony turns onto Ziva's block and finds one of those miracle D.C. parking spots that's too good to pass up. He has to stop for a while now, perhaps commandeer her laptop to set up a facebook account, writing her profile, making her password "j3thro," using as her picture one of the many shots he has of her on his phone. He has to go through and retag her in all the pictures they are in together. He has to stay much longer than he intended.
Ziva has to accept his offer of an apologetic drink. They sink onto opposite ends of his couch, and talk circles around Jeanne. The circles widen, ripple, until they are talking about Jenny too, about Gibbs, about all the others they know and love. They sit on the couch and talk about love.
Tony is whipping up a late night snack involving peanut butter, while Ziva is happily half-dozing in her armchair, watching him. It's getting to be late enough that she can offer him the couch without raised eyebrows. It's getting to be late enough that she hopes he accepts by raising his eyebrows and smiling suggestively in a way that will make them both laugh. It's getting to be late enough that he doesn't bother to ask, just stretches, yawns, announces he's beat and collapses sideways on the couch. She cajoles him to his feet, prods him with a proffered toothbrush. They brush their teeth side by side in the bathroom, feeling like a sleepover or summer camp, exchanging another long, stoplight look. Matching half-smiles curl around their toothbrush handles.
Ziva falls silent after a while and stares into her wine glass in a way that makes Tony go quiet too. He can see her gathering her thoughts, wrapping them back up in tidy packages in the same way she will collect her purse, scarf, and car keys in the next minute when she stands. He stands first, extends a hand, declares she simply must see the distant view of the monuments from his apartment rooftop. She glances up, hands him her glass rather than taking his hand to help her to her feet, but follows him nonetheless up the stairs and out into the semi-dark city night.
Tony sits on the couch in his t-shirt and boxers, checking his email before he turns in for the night. Ziva leans in the doorway and watches him. Normally she wears an old-shirt and boxers of her own, but tonight she's wearing a tanktop and little shorts. Tonight she leans over his shoulder, watches as he accepts the friend request he sent himself from her account.
Ziva smiles in the cool night breeze that finds them on the rooftop. The monuments are distant lit smudges, the capitol a mostly hidden easter-egg shell. Tony tries to explain easter eggs properly and she ignores him as usual. The city spreads before them all orange streetlights and corner CVS shops, so different than home, and yet home at the same time. It's late by the time they go back in. He offers her his bed, waits a beat before saying he'll take the couch.
Tony turns to smile at her and she smiles back, wishes him good night, and he mischievously pecks her cheek, a good night kiss he calls it, which sets his eyes twinkling and makes her blush.
Ziva brushes her teeth in the bathroom and pulls on the t-shirt Tony gives her. It falls to mid-thigh so she gives him back the sweatpants still folded. He raises an eyebrow, glances up and down her body, says nothing. It doesn't bear mentioning how he likes to see her in his clothes. It doesn't need to be voiced how peaceful she finds wearing something of his.
Tony flops back with a sigh lets Ziva turn out the light. At the very last she leans over the couch again, pecks her own goodnight kiss, chaste and mischievous, on his cheek.
Ziva insists on taking the couch. He insists on giving her the bed. She acquiesces, but progressively maintains he share it. He makes the expected comments. She makes the expected retort, hands propped on hips. The stance does interesting things for his t-shirt so he looks away, pulls the covers back, graciously offers her a pick of sides.
Tony wakes in the morning and can immediately recall the feel of Ziva's lips on his face, friendly in the dark.
Ziva wakes in the morning in Tony's bed, in Tony's arms as well, now that they've migrated together in the night.
Tony has made breakfast by the time Ziva comes back from her run. She pinches his cheek in mocking affection, strips of her t-shirt as she walks out of the room. Tony adds the sight of Ziva's shoulders framed in a sweaty sports bra and morning sunshine to his memory bank of indelible Ziva experiences.
Ziva can't run this morning even though her body's woken her at her appropriate time. She should move away, go back to sleep. She shifts, closes her eyes, savors instead. When the alarm goes off Tony squeezes her once before releasing her.
Tony goes into work with Ziva in the same rumpled clothes he wore the day before.
Ziva goes into work with Tony and has to change into her spare sweater from her desk so as to not repeat an outfit.
McGee gives them suspicious looks all morning, but Abby distracts him with something shiny, while looking curious herself. Gibbs looks skeptical and impatient over his coffee cup, which probably means he has them all figured out better than they do themselves.
They have sex in the elevator at lunchtime. It's just how it happens.
((AN: Okay, consider the last bit more a punch-line, than an end okay? I know, I know, that's NOT actually how it would go down.))