Just a little fluff and smut with a tinge of angst. But mostly fluff.

Disclaimer: Everyone knows that they don't belong to me.

This is for Moonfaerie326 for being hilarious and amazing and making me smile like an idiot. Also for Gharmonious for her very kind encouragement. Thank you!

Takes place a day or two before Rule 51. Established Tiva but very, very new. Like possibly they got together in the last week or so. Also, in this story Obsession did not happen.


He buys her a t-shirt.

A black Hard Rock Café Washington, D.C. t-shirt with a flaming guitar across the front.

And though she is touched by his kindness, she fails to see the symbolism in the gift.

He hadn't intended to drag her out this evening on one of his spur of the moment lunatic errands. Really, he hadn't. But when he arrived at her apartment sans the promised take-out, she had flung open her front door in a flurry of note paper and brightly colored index cards looking overly stressed by the fact that he had failed to bring dinner.

She gestured wildly with her paper filled hands and ranted about something but that pesky Y chromosome forced him to stare at her ass in those jeans and effectively blocked out the rampage exploding from the brunette in front of him.

"Tony! You promised to bring dinner!"

He had looked at her face and decided it was time for a study break.

"Okay, Ziva, we are going to go get dinner," he said as calmly as possible.

"I need to study, that is why you were bringing dinner. Remember?"

"Oh, we're going to study, Ziva. Grab your notes and let's go."

She didn't move.

"C'mon, Ziva. My dad used to reenact Civil War battles. He's a history buff in general. You will be shocked and amazed by the wealth of knowledge that is your partner."

She didn't look convinced. Taking a deep breath for dramatic flair, Tony began to recite the Preamble to the Constitution.

"We the People of the United States, in order to form a more perfect…"

"Okay, let's go," she said to shut him up.


Their table is covered with half eaten dinner and paper.

"Which amendment abolished slavery?"

"Thirteenth."

"Which amendment gave women the right to vote?"

"Nineteenth."

"Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Jacob."

"Ziva, you can not base your answer strictly on previews. If you had read the book-"

"Not going to happen, DiNozzo."

He sighs as though she has emotionally wounded him.

"Free speech?"

"First amendment."

He pauses to look at her for a moment, taking in the softness gracing her features. He notices that she finally looks like she belongs here. In America.

In America and with him.

He feels something tender pulling at the pit of his stomach but he squashes it because she looks up at him then, her brows drawn together in question.

"What is it, Tony?"

"I will be right back."

He leaves her staring after him as he makes his way to the front of the restaurant to the gift shop. It occurred to him as he had chosen their dining location that evening that it didn't get any more gaudy American that the Hard Rock Café. It also occurred to him that any time his father went out of town, whether in the U.S. or abroad, he had always brought him a Hard Rock Café t-shirt as an apology for leaving him for weeks on end.

Tonight, as he picked out a t-shirt for Ziva, he realized that in a matter of days, she would no longer be a visitor here. She needed a touristy t-shirt.

He finds his way back to the table and presents Ziva with the t-shirt. She looks at him curiously, but smiles with delight at the simple gesture. He does not want to think too hard about why her innocent smile makes his gut twist.

He says simply, "The statute of limitations is about to run out for you to buy tourist crap, Ziva."

She laughs and regards him warmly.

"Thank you, Tony."

And before he can ruin the moment by saying something stupid, he launches into another volley of questions.

"How many Senators make up the Senate?"


They arrive back at her apartment in a satisfied haze from good burgers and good company. The hour is still relatively early, but Tony assumes that he should play the gentleman and leave Ziva to study without distraction.

He leans in to kiss her goodnight, which she returns, but does not release her hold on him.

"Stay," she whispers against his mouth. Leaning back, she holds his eyes with her own and something not quite defined flows easily between them. The filter between his brain and his mouth snaps into place and he stops himself from saying something utterly cheesy and romantic. Although, judging by the softness of her features, he thinks maybe tonight cheesy musings might actually be well accepted. But then he decides that he enjoys having all ten fingers and would rather not risk her ripping one off of his body.

Taking a step back, she looks up at him and taps his chest sternly.

"But we continue to study, Tony."

He gives her his most charming smile.

"Oh, but Ziva, you are in for a special brand of Tony DiNozzo study session."


She heads for her bedroom to change into her new t-shirt, only to find Tony on her heels. As she turns to face him, he slips the package from her hands and tosses it onto the dresser. Pulling her close, he leans down to kiss her once more and she leans into his touch easily, reaching her arms up to wind around his neck.

He wonders, not for the first time, how they had avoided this for so many years when it seems so natural. Tasting her and teasing her, his hands roam to the hem of her shirt and pull the barrier from her body. Her skin is warm and soft as she presses against his chest.

Her tongue slides along his bottom lip as his hands reach for the button of her jeans.

"How may branches of government are there?" He whispers against the corner of her mouth while he unzips her jeans.

"Three," she responds, slightly breathless as a rogue finger slips beneath the elastic of her underwear.

He kneels in front of her and tugs her pants from her hips. Burying his face against her belly, he kisses the smooth skin.

"What are they?"

"Judicial, Executive and -"

He pulls her underwear down her legs.

"And?"

She doesn't answer, but rather sucks in her breath sharply as his thumb brushes over the bundle of nerves between her legs.

"Legislative," she grinds out between clenched teeth.

"Very good, Agent David," Tony drawls.

"Enough talking, Tony," Ziva orders and drags him to the bed.

He continues to throw out questions and she answers every single one as hands and mouths slide over heated flesh.

She is beginning to lose focus on the "study session" as he aligns their bodies, he cock ready and pressing at her center.

"Which branch of government can declare war?" Tony pants, surprised that he can still focus.

Her back arches up off of the bed as he slips just the tip inside of her.

"Unngh," is Ziva's response.

He pulls out entirely.

"Which branch, Ziva?"

She clenches her jaw and whips her hand up to the pressure point at the base of his neck.

"Tony, I will sever your jugular with-"

He laughs and drives back inside only to withdraw a second time.

"Which branch?"

"Legislat-" She throws her head back and arches once more as he begins a steady rhythm, no longer able to produce questions for her to answer.


He wakes to find himself alone in Ziva's bed, the sheets having long grown cold. Sitting up, he slips into his boxers and wanders out into the living room to find Ziva sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor surrounded by books, papers and note cards. Her hair a tangled mess, she is wearing her new t-shirt and possibly underwear, but nothing else. She looks so incredibly hot that he swallows.

She glances up slowly to meet his gaze, and the look he sees there stops the smart ass remark before it leaves his mouth. He moves to sit in front of her so that his knees barely brush her own. They sit in silence for a long moment before she finally speaks.

"You know, Tony," she says, her voice tired and thin. "There is a chance that I may fail. Probably not the test, but possibly the interview."

A hundred things race through his mind. He wants to make promises that she will pass with flying colors. He wants to reassure her that she will charm the pants off of the interviewer and that person will have no choice but to immediately offer her citizenship.

The problem is that he knows her concern is legitimate. A former Mossad assassin does not paint a picture of the All American Girl.

He considers making promises to keep her on American soil no matter what the circumstances, but he knows she will not appreciate it right now. Instead, he simply opens his arms to her and waits for her to accept his offering of comfort.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she moves to her knees and scoots in his direction, while slipping her underwear down her legs. He can't help but smile back as she straddles his lap and slips his boxers down far enough that she can sink down, sliding along his hardening cock.

"Ahh, Ziva," he groans, "you are like a sexual vampire. I don't know if I can keep up with you. But," he continues slyly, "I will say screw Edward and Jacob, I'm on Team Ziva, all the way."

She laughs against his mouth, the worry of her upcoming test slipping temporarily to the recesses of her mind. She slips and slides along his growing erection before impaling herself fully on his length.

He groans.

She sighs.

He wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her body against his chest. The laughter and banter from their earlier tumble is replaced by something else. Something deeper. Something private and sweet and uniquely theirs.


Thank you for reading! I got the Hard Rock t-shirt idea from a friend. She was wearing one from Fiji and we got into a discussion about how many we had from different countries and states. So this cracky little one-shot was born.