A/N: Yet another post-ep to "Jetlag." *fangirl flail* So, it's the same scenario that I'm sure everyone is writing about, but…with what I'm hoping comes off as more sexy tiva tension and innuendo. (though, it's my first time heading into this arena, so, uhh…I hope it's okay!) I apologize if I inadvertently have the same idea as someone else, but I think this is just mostly fluff.

Disclaimer: Not mine, but after last night, I hard-core wish they were!


When the receptionist had explained to Ziva that there was only one room available at the hotel--and only one bed, she agreed to it without hesitation, handing over the agency credit card for processing. She hadn't bothered to tell Tony about their situation until the elevator pinged its arrival on their floor. She handed him his key as she slid hers into the door and waited until the light turned green on the door handle. She dropped her bag in the entryway as Tony audibly marveled at the "glory of Paris!" His chatter stopped when he turned around to see it: one bed.

He spun around with a stunned expression on his face and sputtered a bit as he tried to force the words out.

"Zee-vah, there appears to be a problem with our room."

She came up behind him without a sound, peaking her head over his shoulder.

"What problem, Tony?"

He scoffed and turned to look at her, one arm outstretched toward the bed while the other made a motion between the two of them.

"There are two of us and one of...that." Tony accented his words with a punctuated point to the bed. She laughed teasingly, rolling her eyes at him.

"There is a couch, Tony. And if you're going to complain about that," she echoed, pointing to the bed. "then you can take the couch and I will take the bed."

She smiled at him triumphantly. All he could do in response was stare at her for a beat before the full meaning of her words sunk in.

"Ohhhhh, no, Ziva! Your ninja mind tricks won't work on me! You are not putting me on that couch!" She stared back at him, an eyebrow raised in questioning. He shot his hand to his back after a beat, closed his eyes, and contorted his face in illusory pain. "My back! My back, Ziva! You wouldn't let me sleep on the couch in the bad condition my back is in, would you?"

He cracked open one eye to see if she was buying it, but her face had not changed. He stood up straight, giving up the act, and took a step closer to both her and the bed.

"Okay, fine. I don't see why we can't share the bed. It's not like we haven't done it before, right?"

"Okay," she said simply. He had expected her to fight the idea at least at first, so her acceptance surprised him somewhat. "But I call the left side."

Now that was the Ziva he knew. He couldn't help but let out a small laugh at her one condition. Truthfully, he liked the right side better, anyway.


It had already been late in Paris when they arrived at the hotel, and despite the time difference, both were unusually tired. Tony suspected that it had quite a bit to do with the sleeping arrangements on the plane ride--barely reclined seats coupled with scratchy blankets and too-small pillows made for enough discomfort, but add Ziva dozing peacefully on his shoulder and Tony had barely slept a wink. He resisted the urge to pull her into him and wrap his arms around her securely, making sure she could never get away.

He remembered that only last month she had solemnly tried to explain that she had been having a great deal of trouble sleeping since she returned to Washington. She couldn't explain it, she had said, but she had been having a hard time getting comfortable. Insomnia was something she suspected she would have to deal with for the rest of her life. No sleeping pills, no fluffy pillows, and certainly no soft music had helped. Most nights, she tried to calm herself with a shower and a good book.

Ziva had shut herself in the bathroom about an hour after they had settled into their hotel room. Tony waited for her to finish showering by sitting in front of the window watching the taxis scream past on the street below and the tip of the Eiffel Tower light up in the darkness.

Ziva emerged ten minutes later, body dripping from tiny rivulets of water streaming down from her curly hair. He stared at her openly as she bent forward to pull a few items out of her bag. He ached to follow the tiny droplets that eased themselves down her bare shoulder and across her collarbone only to be lost into the towel wrapped securely on her chest.

She swept her hair to one side as she peaked up at him from other side of the bed.

"Shower's free," she said sweetly, letting go of her hair and letting it fall haphazardly across her shoulders as she continued to rummage through her bag.

About halfway through his shower, Tony felt a small gust of cold air cut through the steam. He peaked his head out from behind the shower curtain to see Ziva standing in front of the mirror, wiping a circle dry to see herself in.

"Uhh, Ziva? Kinda busy here..."

She laughed, her eyes lighting up in the slightly foggy circle cleared in the mirror before her.

"Tony, it is nothing I have not seen before, I assure you."

She turned on the cold water, thrusting her toothbrush under the spray quickly before turning it off once more. He continued to stare at her in disbelief as she squeezed toothpaste out onto the bristles. Their eyes met in the mirror and she turned around, toothbrush poised by her lips.

"What?" she asked, slightly annoyed, but mostly confused.

"You're really going to brush your teeth while I'm in the shower?!" he squeaked out.

"I do not see what the big deal is, Tony," she said, pausing slightly as a wicked grin flashed across her features. "Unless, you need my...help in there?"

Tony's eyes went wide at the implication and he immediately pulled his head back into the safety of the shower, roughly shoving closed the curtain that separated them. She laughed and turned back around to brush her teeth in peace.

"Tony?" she called sweetly.

"What?" he snapped, wishing her mere presence didn't have such an effect on him.

"You pulled the curtain a bit too far in your direction."

"What are you--crap!" He looked up to see her wink at him in the mirror through the gap in the curtain near the sink. He hurriedly covered himself before gently tugging the curtain closed over the offending gap. His face turned a striking shade of red as he scrubbed a hand across his face. He let out a soft breath of air before shrugging it off. "Like what you saw, Zee-vah?"

She spit into the sink for the final time before answering, "You wish, Tony."

With that, she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

'You have no idea, Ziva,' he thought.

When he had finished with his shower, he dressed quickly in pair of sweatpants he was lucky to have brought with him. He walked over toward the bed, shirtless and rapidly flicking his hand through his hair in an effort to rid himself of the cold droplets that had accumulated there.

"Tony," Ziva cried out with a disgusted look on her face, "you are getting me wet! You look like a dog trying to dry itself! Stop!"

Tony continued to spray droplets everywhere as he neared Ziva who was lounging on the bed with a book. The mischievous look on his face was matched by her protests.

"Stop! Go away!" She laughed and closed her book in an attempt to push him away from her while trying to shield her face from the onslaught.

Tony brushed the side of his face against hers, effectively wiping water across the side of her face, as his lips neared her ear.

"Am I really making you wet, Ziva?" he whispered suggestively with a smirk on his face. He pulled back almost as quickly as he had arrived. She drew in a deep breath at the familiar pull of desire stirring in her and shook her head stubbornly at him, hoping he would not notice the smoldering look in her eyes.

He crossed around to the other side of the bed and plopped down happily against the pillows. He let out a hum of approval as he shut his eyes and intertwined his fingers across his bare stomach. Opening them suddenly, he turned his head quickly to the side to take in her appearance.

"Ziva, what are you wearing?" he asked slowly as though his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Pajamas," she said simply without moving her eyes away from the book in her lap. She had turned on her side, facing him, while her head was propped up lazily on her bent arm. One leg was outstretched toward the end of the bed while the other was slung over it, bent alluringly in his direction. She wore a matching set of thin camisole and shorts, something he never would have pictured her sleeping in before now.

Do--do you always wear that to bed?" he asked before he could stop the words from spilling out of his mouth. She smirked, still refusing to lift her eyes from her book.

"Why, Tony? Would you rather I be nude?"

Tony couldn't take it. He thought he had put her back in her place with his last antic, but she outdid him once again. He could never best her, he worried, but he wouldn't give up trying.

"I want some ice. You need some ice, Ziva?"

He rose from the bed in a flash, grabbing the key from the bedside table and moving toward the door.

"Tony," she called out as he reached the door. "Don't you dare pelt me with ice on your way back or you will not live to regret it."

"I would never," he scoffed in return before heading out into the hallway.

He came back a few moments later with an empty bucket and confused expression.

"Is there no ice in France?"

"What?" she asked finally, lifting her head to look into his eyes.

"I cannot find the ice machine! Do they not have ice in France?"

She rolled her eyes at him and shifted to sit back against the pillows, giving him a full view of the thin material covering her chest. He used all his energy to tear his eyes away from their intended destination and stared back at her.

"They have ice in France, Tony. You just cannot read French. You do not need ice, anyway. I am sure you are tired, why do you not just go to bed?"

He nodded his head in agreement. He hadn't really needed ice in the first place--he just needed an excuse to put some distance between them before he made a move he was sure she wouldn't take kindly to. He pulled back the sheets on the bed and eased himself into it, groaning as stretched his legs out under the covers.

Ziva earmarked the page she had finished reading, shut the book and stretched over him to put it on the bedside table next to their room keys. As she hovered over him, he shut his eyes tightly and sucked in a quiet breath.

The bed bounced as she turned to face away from him and let her eyes drift closed. He let out the breath he had been holding and could not resist the urge to flop over onto his stomach, his eyes glued to her back as it rose and fell slightly with her breathing. His eyes began to drift shut slowly, the rhythm of her breathing lulling him to sleep.


Somewhere around two in the morning, he had woken up to a light pressure on his chest. He vaguely remembered that a dream about pillows being stacked on his chest had woken him, but when he looked down, it was, in fact, his chest that had become a pillow. At some point in the night, he had gravitated to the center of the bed--he blamed it on having slept alone for so many nights--and she had turned into him, snuggling into his chest as though he were her own personal pillow.

What confused him more was how his arm had managed to find its way underneath her and wrap itself possessively around her hip as she slept. Her hair splayed across his chest and upper arms and her hand rested protectively over his heart. One leg was slung over his, hooking itself precariously into the space between his thighs. He looked down at her sleeping peacefully on his chest as she shifted slightly on top of him. Her shorts rose higher toward the curve of her ass as her body slid down his a few inches.

Her top rose from the gently movement and he couldn't resist the urge to caress the point where his fingers met her bare skin. As his thumb passed lightly over the curve of her hipbone, she let out a contented moan and ground herself flush against him. His eyes closed as he tried to control the effect her movement had on him, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop sweeping his fingers across her bare skin.

He dipped his thumb just beyond the dip of her hip to the soft skin just to the side it and heard her suck in a breath at the teasing touch. As he passed over the area again, she let out a delicate hum of approval. His touch grew bolder, flitting a path up her side with a whisper of a touch, dipping under the hem of her top an inch or so before gliding back down. He drew out small circles on her flat stomach as her breathing became increasingly shallow.

He looked down at the satisfied expression settling across her features and dropped a soft kiss into her hair, continuing his limited exploration of her body.

"Tony?" she questioned softly to bring her out of the fog of sleep.

His hand stilled its journey and pulled away slightly. He immediately felt the warmth leave his fingertips and the electricity that powered his body this late at night drained from his body at the loss of her skin.

He held his breath, unsure of how to proceed. The only thing he knew for certain was that he never wanted to let her go.

Suddenly, the small palm that had been resting over his heart shot out to catch his retreating hand. Her warm fingers wound themselves in his as she guided it back into its rightful place at her hip.

She didn't dare let go of his hand, lest he back away again, and shut her tired eyes once more. Her heart pounded in her chest at the continued contact and she shifted to settle herself more fully into him, causing him to stir slightly as her thigh brushed higher onto his own.

"Don't stop," she whispered so lowly that he was not entirely sure he had heard her correctly. Testing the waters, his thumb drew a circle into her skin. Expecting a reprimand, he was surprised to hear a rumble of pleasure escape her throat.

The sound set ablaze the kindling desire he felt for her and he boldly slid his free arm down her back to the space just above her low-riding shorts. He squeezed her tenderly to him and she responded by releasing his hand and bringing it back up to his heart. Once there, she dragged her fingernail through his chest hair in the shape of a 'Z.'

He chuckled quietly to himself as he recognized the shape. The hand settled onto her lower back reached down a bit to grab her ass, pressing her firmly into him without room to spare before releasing her and settling his hand back to a more appropriate sleeping position.

"Sleep, Zorro," he chided.

She pressed her lips chastely into his chest and murmured, "Okay, but only because I just got comfortable."

The End.

A/N 2: Reviews make me so happy…almost on par with last night's episode. Plus, I have to write a bunch of pages for my thesis tonight, so getting reviews would make my night go from 'eh' to 'YAY!' You want that, right?

Plus, I might (re: probably) have another post-ep to this episode in mind, so reviews would make me use my breaks from writing my thesis to write more post-ep-y fluff.