Hey everyone! Ok, so I'm insane, but I've had this thought in my head for a little while now, and I just typed it down here. But, I am currently co-writing four, yes, count them, four (and we're thinking up a 5th) stories with Your Royal Highness, and those are my priorities, so this may not get updated like it should. I will work on it in my spare time, though, I promise . I haven't forgot about One Shot either, so stick with me.
So this was originally going to be a one shot, but then I kept getting more and more ideas for it, so now it'll be a multi chapter story. The chapters will be a little on the short side, so I apologize for that. :( OKAY I think this is the longest author's note ever, so I'm shutting up.
I wish Tony DiNozzo was my boy-toy, but he's not, and I don't own him or any of these people. :)
Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat at his desk, his head propped up on one hand, pretending to do the paperwork that needed to be done from the last case.
The case, which, of course, was long and complicated, and the killer, Chris Hubbard, had gotten to two more Marines before they had found him. That result put Gibbs in a sour mood, more than usual, and Tony wanted nothing more than to get away from him and the office.
He glanced down at his computer clock, 1147h. He looked across the bullpen at his partner, who was typing on her computer, quite content looking. Gibbs was off somewhere, and McGee was down with Abby, his usual spot after a case. He studied her some more.
She had her hair down today, straight with curls at the end. And, the fact that she had on a rather low-cut purple shirt and black jeans that fit her way too perfectly didn't help his current urge to jump over the desk and have his way with her.
He had been thinking about doing that often these days. But Gibbs would kill him. Not only because it was a rule, twelve to be exact, but because Ziva was definitely like a daughter to Jethro.
In the last month or so, Tony realized something. During those way-too long 4 months that she was away, he missed her.
Not that he would ever admit it.
After she was rescued, Tony wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly in his arms, telling her that everything would be okay. She was, after all, his best friend, partner, buddy, pal. A hug was a friendly gesture that probably would've made her feel like she really was family. But he didn't do it.
In fact, nothing was said on the plane ride home, in the elevator back to the squad room, or the rest of the time she was in the building. Tony's gut turned in circles when he watched her leave with Abby that night, for that was where she was staying until she could get her feet on the ground again.
After a week too long with Filmore, Tony was more than ready to have his partner back, and was estatic when he found out through the grapevine that she wanted to become a special agent.
He knew it would be a long process, and he wanted it over with. But, during said process, when that bastard Officer Ben Gadone showed up and demanded that Ziva return to Mossad with him, Tony was furious. He wasn't going to let that happen, even if he had to tie one end of a rope to the statue of liberty, and the other end of the rope to Ziva's arm.
She wasn't going back to that awful place.
He was going to make sure of that.
Now, she sat in front of him, at her desk.
She was Special Agent Ziva David.
He liked the way that sounded.
When he realized during all this time he was staring at her, he snapped back into reality and looked down at his computer clock again. 1204h.
He grinned. It was Lunchtime.
"Hey probie!" He said loudly. Ziva stopped the typing on her computer and glared at him.
"Tim is not in the room, Tony." She said.
Tony stood from his desk and walked over to her, "I know, probie."
"I will not respond to you if you do not stop calling me that." She said, anger evident in her voice.
Tony sighed, he didn't want to argue right now, especially since it was lunchtime. "Fine, Zee-Vah, lets go get some lunch.
Ziva looked up at him, a small smile on her lips, "Thank you, Tony, but I have already made lunch plans."
"Oh, with Abby? Well we can all three go."
"No, not with Abby."
Now he was confused, "McGoo?" Ziva only shook her head. "Duckster?" Again, she shook her head. "Well then...who?"
"It is no one in this building."
"Who is it, then?"
She looked up at him and smiled, leaning on the desk with both arms, her hands on her chin, propping her head up. "Why do you want to know?"
"Or jealous." Ziva said. She glanced up at him again before standing from her desk, her coat thrown over her arm as she added her weapon to her side.
"Why don't you want to tell me?"
She pressed the elevator button, "Because it is none of your business."
"I thought we were friends." They stepped onto the elevator as Tony's gut churned. Oh, how he wanted so much more than just to be her friend.
Ziva raised and dropped one shoulder, "We are, I suppose."
"Friends tell each other things, Ziva. So come on, tell me." She looked at him as she walked out of the elevator, lobby, and started out to her car. "Are you seriously not going to tell me who you're having lunch with?"
Ziva laughed and patted him lightly on the chest, "Have a nice lunch, Tony." And with that, she got into her mini and sped out of the Navy Yard. Tony sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door to his Mustang.
Why wouldn't she tell him? What's so secretive? He honestly didn't know.
But he needed to know. Not only for his sanity, but it was his responsibility to protect her.
At least, he made it his responsibility.
Briefly, he wondered who she met so quickly after returning from four months in the desert. She didn't seem to be with anybody, but if there was one thing Ziva was good at, other than teasing him with her seductive smiles and apparel, it was keeping a secret.
If she wasn't going to tell him, there was one way to find out.