Title: Score 1 - David
Pairings: Tony/Ziva
Rating: Mid-Strong T (Innuendo and an F-Bomb)
Disclaimer: If I owned this show, it would be crap. Obviously I do not own it.
Summary: Ziva leaves Tony hanging (metaphorically, of course). Tag to the 7x07 bathroom scene.
Author's Note: Hello from Joondulup, where I cannot get wireless Internet so I end up actually writing something! I loved the bathroom scene; it honestly convinced me that they were together (even if it was only for a second). Reviews are nice, very nice; they're way up there on the scale of…niceness. I love writing non-dialogue fic, especially for these two (even if the vast majority of it ends up deleted.

She knew what he wanted, but, oh, she was not going to give it to him. He was completely shameless (not that that really bothered her), conspicuously checking the stalls and oh-so obviously locking the door once he had confirmed that they were indeed alone.

He wanted sex.

That was obvious; he was, after all, Tony DiNozzo. But he had also changed. The last months of their lives had been a whirlwind (or, more appropriately, a dust storm) of emotions, of loyalties being tested and of relationships being broken and re-built. She wanted something that resembled normalcy in her life, and he was willing to give it to her, in his own way.

Normal for them wasn't sex in the lady's room, or men's room for that matter. Normalcy was flirtation and banter. It was pizza, beer and a movie on a Friday night. Normal was looking over at his desk, only to meet his eyes for a split second before he went back to his work. To be completely honest, she had missed it, more than she could ever have imagined. It seemed that severing ties in DC had not been as simple as she had anticipated, it had caused her more pain than she would admit at the time, this then lead her to re-evaluate her decisions over the however many weeks she had been held in the camp. All through that time, one face seemed to fill her mind's eye, one voice seemed to ring in her ears, one smell lingered in her nose, one taste on her lips and one familiar touch seemed to be imprinted in her skin. She had hated him for having this effect on her, but she had hated herself more for letting him.

It was a game that they had played for four years. One that would most always end with one of them wounded, but still able to live on to the next round. For four years he had been able to get her in the end, every time. She never won. It may have seemed like she had but he always left her wanting more, wondering if he might just be using this game as some torturous way of courting her. She scoffed at the idea. Tony DiNozzo did not court women; he got them drunk, fucked 'em and lived to gloat another day. And in true DiNozzo style, did it all with a "shaken, not stirred" brand of class. Sex in the ladies room was certainly not his kind of style; at least that's what she had thought.

So, she continued the game, adding another name to the "Wheel of Potential Flings" and seeing how he would react. Jealousy. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Oh, come on, stop being such a big brother"

Let the games begin. Almost a year out of practice, really, and she hits him where it hurts. She's not exactly proud of it, of manipulating him in this way, especially after what he had done for her. He knows that she appreciates him bringing her home. For about a week they had been, for want of a better word, together, even if neither of them had made it official. Late one night she just snapped, and within twenty minutes, was on Tony's doorstep with a large pizza and a six-pack, and as clichéd as it sounds, one thing really did lead to another and for one night they had a rare moment where they forgot that they worked together and just didn't care. Although it hadn't happened again, they both knew what the other wanted, needed even, and was more than willing to provide, but Ziva was having far too much fun. They would act as though nothing had happened. They both remembered, quite vividly in fact, what had happened, and even when no one else was around, like now, exchanged knowing smiles and small chuckles.


She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, as she had so many other times, and was tempted to wipe that stupid grin off his face, thankfully she knew better and just smiled along with him. His smiled never ceased to amaze her, nor did his laugh, or chuckle. All of them were so strangely attractive. Unlike other men, his smile wasn't too cheesy or too sexy or too adorable, it was just the right mix of the three that he obviously knew could make a girl go weak at the knees. She had learned to hide this weakness well and combated it by smiling back up at him just that bit brighter than she would with anyone else and letting out a small chuckle herself. If Gibbs were here they would have earned themselves a smack on the head, or more, even though they didn't really break rule number twelve, all they had done was, well, each other. Once…since she had returned from her time in Somalia.

At his mention of the "Texas Long-Horn" (a phrase she had heard him use, once, and only once before in relation to something that was in fact not from Texas – even if he had said it in a crude accent) she looked down, and her suspicions (of which she was already certain) were proved correct. She wanted to leave him hanging (obviously in the metaphorical sense) and so, without another word, she left.

Score 1- David.