Disclaimer: Yeah, that show? You know, the epically awesome #1 scripted drama, NCIS? Not mine. And if it was, there'd be a lot more Tony/Ziva. Hee hee.

Author's Note: Obviously set right after the episode "Under Covers" (season 3), when Ziva offers to drive Tony home. This is my version of what happened after, although I don't actually think anything DID happen. It was just a "what if" moment, more like. And my muse took the idea and ran :D

Also, this is my first attempt at an NCIS fanfic. Please please pwetty pwease with a shirtless Michael Weatherly on top be nice to me and take this into consideration. Hopefully I was able to capture the characters' essences in a rather AU, OOC sort of way o.O If that makes ANY sense.

"Forbidden, Fleeting, Festering"

Summary: Ziva drives Tony home following their undercover stint as married assassins, but the unresolved sexual tension between them refuses to stay smoldering on the doorstep. Rated M for a reason, kids.

Neither said much during the ten minute drive to Tony's apartment. Normally it took the man himself around twenty minutes to traverse the busy highways, especially in DC at night, but when Ziva was driving the normal rules didn't apply. She wove in and out of traffic with the speed of one harboring an insanely virulent death wish. It was all Tony could do not to lose the contents of his stomach as car horns screeched angrily and city lights passed in frightening blurs. Even the swerves took on new meaning as the Israeli's Mini Cooper dodged vehicle and guard rail alike.

Just his luck. If Siazon's lackey managed not to pummel Tony into a bloody pulp, well, Ziva was apparently going to take over where he left off. Tony always knew it would be her, in the end. The crazy chick probably had about a million ways- all unpleasant, no doubt- to prematurely end his sorry existence.

Tony peeked over at the aforementioned Mossad Liaison, curly dark hair falling in waves over her face as she focused on how best to cut off the tractor trailer looming ahead of them. Instead of watch the suicidal maneuvering go down, Tony chose to appraise the woman beside him. Which was really the smartest option, he decided, if the Very Very Special Agent wanted to make it home with sanity still intact. The ability to leer without appearing to do so was one of his strongest talents, after all.

Tony couldn't quite name the reason for this sudden fascination he had with Ziva. She had intrigued him from the very moment of her arrival, all foreign and intimidating yet with an underlying playfulness Tony so treasured in women about her. He wouldn't be lying in admitting Ziva had him at "Having phone sex?", a teasing jab lilted just so that, when coupled with her accent, sounded positively flirtatious. It was rare to come across an exotic beauty so casual with promiscuity yet so careful in her advances. He'd tried- oh, many times- to invite her home with him. They had chemistry; a chemistry unlike any he shared with most members of the opposite sex. Perhaps even mutual attraction. But Ziva David, his little ninja, was harder to read than Leroy Jethro Gibbs at the most heated of times. Her intentions, her emotions, were deliberately hidden behind indistinguishable innuendos that often proceeded a stream of insults. For Ziva, there seemed to be little division between love and hate, and it was maddening for Tony to constantly have to analyze her every comment for the deeper meaning. She was confusing, she was enigmatic, but one thing was for sure- to Anthony DiNozzo, Ziva David was a particularly desirable brand of forbidden fruit.

And going undercover as married assassins, tasked with the job of selling this... union... had not helped his fixation any.

No, not in the slightest.

"Tony? Something wrong?" Ziva's voice floated into his reverie, and it was with a cringe that Tony resurfaced. Dammit, he was staring. Way to play Captain Obvious, DiNozzo. So much for his super special secret leering forte...

Ziva crinkled her brows in concern, turning to search Tony's features through the flickering shadows. "Are you in pain? Is your nose bleeding again?"

"I'm fine," Tony answered, chasing away his discomfort with a classic DiNozzo grin. He tapped his bruised appendage lightly. "It takes more than seven punches to bring the great Anthony DiNozzo down. Now watch the road, Ziva. I've only got a few lives left to spare."


Silence was the primary occupant in Ziva's car for the rest of the trip, but when they pulled up next to his humble abode, Tony noticed Ziva felt no qualms with walking him to his door. And there it was again- that strange, undecipherable expression smoldering in the Mossad Liaison's eyes as they paused atop the welcome mat. Tony felt his heart skip a few beats as the two of them simply stood there, his mind winding in circles trying to figure out what she wanted from him. Ziva took a deep breath, finally averting her puzzling eyes to instead pick at a loose strand on her sweater sleeve. Tony noticed they had yet to change out of their undercover outfits, and it suddenly threw him off-kilter with an overwhelming sense of identity crisis. He was Tony, she was Ziva, and yet... some part of him still clung to the role of Mr. Renier, Ziva's- no, Mrs. Renier's, he reminded himself- husband. What they had just endured together raced through Tony's memory on fast forward, like a movie with only the most significant moments rolled across a hazy screen.

There's only one thing I'm interested in right now - Lips accosting, savoring, insatiable - A first that took far too long in coming, he thinks as electricity sears through his overloaded senses - Definitely not your knee - Well, that was fairly obvious, he had Ziva pressed against him wearing naught but her birthday suit, it was his every fantasy come to life - Intimate backrubbing, her warm hands massaging away all worries over the mission - Snores, sleepless hours, but what he wouldn't give to have her beside him every night like this - I'm pregnant, Tony - She would be even more beautiful than she is now, he decides, swollen with the carriage of his child - If they resist, shoot the woman - I might have a plan - When I leave, they'll most likely put a bullet through your head - I didn't say it was a perfect plan, he reassures - He lied, though, because it was perfect - Ziva could get away - At least she could be rescued - I have to protect her -


The small sound brought Tony careening back to reality and suddenly it was the present again, and they were on his doorstep with Ziva still there and now awaiting a reply. He mimicked her, inhaling deeply before querying,


"I... want to thank you," Ziva spoke softly, at last glancing up from the ground to connect eyes with Tony. She seemed to be floundering for the appropriate words. "You took a great risk tonight, allowing yourself to remain hostage while Siazon set me free. It was a very courageous thing to do, given that we were pretty much hammered from the off-"

"Screwed. Hammered is 'drunk', which I am fairly certain we were not. Well, unless it was all one big grand dream, and in that case-" Tony reached over and pinched Ziva, which was of course a stupid idea because he ended up pinned against the wall, arm twisted at an awkward angle. Ow.

"Yes, screwed," Ziva corrected herself, rolling chocolate brown eyes heavenward in exasperation. She leaned in close, mouth inches from Tony's and suddenly he thought maybe this position wasn't so painful after all. "They could have killed you, you idiot, but you sacrificed yourself to save me and I want you to know... I..."

Ziva licked her lips, distracted by their propinquity. Tony could feel her fingers clenching, the hand currently accosting his arm tightening painfully but he did not protest. Their breathing changed, it was fast nearing a pant, and Tony shot back to last night in their hotel room. There's only one thing I'm interested in right now...

He was fully aware that he may be facing a world of pain tomorrow if what he did next was received badly, but the kamikaze instinct in Tony could have cared less. It was time to lay it all on the table, for better or for worse.

The kiss was ginger; hesitant. Ziva tasted like he last remembered, a heady combination of sweet and salty. Like a drug, surely; a bite of temptation straight from Eve's apple, but Tony forced himself to disentangle their lips. There was only a brief second of awaiting judgement, just enough to swallow one gulp of fresh air- probably his last, Tony surmised- before Ziva unexpectedly released her death grip and instead shoved herself more insistently against his front. She dove in for another kiss, and this time it was more like the one the pair had experienced in their hotel room- desperate, intense, and needy for more. Tony felt her hands roam up to trap themselves in his hair, while at the same time his slipped lower to trace the indents carved into Ziva's lower back. His mind had become a muddled puddle of bliss, but when they parted for oxygen he had just enough cogency left to utter,

"Come inside?"

Ziva giggled throatily and Tony took that as a "yes", unlocking the door hastily when Ziva practically dragged him by the collar into the hallway. Tony barely had the door shut again before Ziva jumped him, sweaters and other unnecessary garments slowly piling up into discarded piles on the floor. There was something sinful about what they were doing, something niggling at the edge of his brain about rules and whatnot, but for the life of him Tony couldn't think much beyond the way Ziva had straddled herself around his waist and was now grinding experimentally. He groaned at the reaction she evoked in him, relishing in the small whimpers escaping his ninja as he staggered with her into the bedroom.

"Do you know how long I've wanted this?" Tony whispered into her ear, and Ziva clenched her muscles more tightly around his erection in response. "How difficult it was to simply simulate?"

"Show me," Ziva hissed back, nipping at his ear. "Show me how much you want me."

They had arrived at the bed now, a disgraceful display of unkempt blankets and comforters, but that did not matter to the pair osculating passionately. They toppled onto Tony's mattress bonelessly. It wasn't long before Tony had Ziva cornered against the pillows, mouth paying homage to her body as his fingers did quick work on the lacy black bra he'd already had to dispose of once, only a day earlier. Unfortunately, Ziva became quite the distracting little minx as she reached over to stroke the crotch of his pants, leering admirably in such a way that would have made generations of DiNozzos proud. Tony smirked- God, did he want her- and murmured,

"Oh, are these bothering you?"

"Off. Now." Ziva purred, manhandling his belt in an attempt to free her partner's straining appendage. Tony was only too willing to comply, and when the last piece of his clothing joined Ziva's on the mesh carpet, the animal in Ziva rose again. She tackled him roughly, once again perching atop Tony with a sultry,

"I prefer it on top, if you recall."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten," Tony quipped back demurely, and he groaned as Ziva guided him inside of her. "... condom?"

"No need," Ziva gasped, rotating her hips this way and that as she got used to Tony's presence. "In Mossad, you learn to prepare for every possibility. Especially when it involves undercover work."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond to that, because to consider Ziva with other men only succeeded in making him feel nauseous, so he simply started thrusting in and out of her. Ziva ceased the unsavory topic in favor of lusty shivers, hips meeting Tony's in sync with their unique rhythm. She closed her eyes and, instead of throwing her head back like many women did in flagrante delicto, rested her forehead against Tony's neck, suckling the sensitive skin there. Tony growled huskily, tweaking her nipples with his fingers, revelling in the smooth texture found on those two pert twins. He liked the way Ziva made love; she was conscientious in her efforts to maximize both their pleasure, speeding up and slowing down as the Israeli Liaison saw fit, based on his reactions. And damn, was she good. Tony moaned, a flood of happiness filling him, glad to have granted Ziva control. She learned early on what turned him on most.

Climax came all too soon, Tony right after Ziva while her body surged and pulsed around him, milking his member dry in an explosion of light against his eyelids. They came down from their high slowly, Ziva collapsing across his chest and breathing heavily. For a few minutes they just laid there, disheveled and sweating in the middle of Tony's tousled sheets. The aforementioned brunette smiled quietly.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. Tony reached up to cradle his hand around Ziva's cheek, kiss her again without feverishly groping at the same time- he wanted it to be sweet and meaningful- but Ziva sat up before the man had a chance.

"I- uhm-" She blushed a fierce red. "Oh God... I am sorry, Tony. I- I should not have-"

"Ziva, if it didn't happen now, it would have happened at some other point," Tony reasoned, smiling up at her with the remnants of ecstasy nigh in his green eyes. Still, Ziva was not reassured. She plucked herself up and awkwardly began to gather her clothes together.

"I- I mean Gibbs- he will murder us on the spot if he finds out we broke rule number 12-"

Dammit, I knew I forgot about something, Tony swore, but outwardly he was silent, just a little hurt that Ziva was going to drop him so quickly after they shared this night together. He watched as she raced around the room, rapidly turning herself into the Ziva she was in the car- an enigmatic and forbidden femme fatale who held her emotions at bay behind a mask of invincibility. Tony raked shaky fingers through his hair, suddenly cursing their spur-of-the-moment decision. What if everything changed? What if they couldn't work together anymore? He didn't want that. He didn't want... he didn't want to lose her.

"And my father- oh God, my father-"


"We... Tony, we cannot do this. Not now. Not.. not with the way my life is right now. This has to end, here. I really am sorry, Tony. I really truly am," Ziva practically sobbed, planting a heartbroken kiss on his lips. Tony grabbed her wrist before she could run from his apartment and, worst of all fears, his life.

"Zi, I've got to know- this won't change things, will it? You don't hate me?"

"Tony," Ziva said, and finally a brilliantly warm expression emanated from her countenance, chasing away the distress of only seconds ago. Tony relaxed. "I could never hate you. Not ever. You are such a wonderfully brave and supremely caring individual, however dense and annoying at times you may be. But we cannot speak of this night. There are too many out there who would be... displeased with what we have done here. And I cannot face..." Ziva sighed. "Not yet, Tony. It's too soon."

"But it's not goodbye, right?" Tony wasn't sure why there was pleading lurking in his tone. Who was he, the clingy ex-boyfriend caricature so prevalent in movies? Ziva was a fling; what else did he expect when they barged into his apartment throwing off their clothes? A one night stand, he had those all the time, then back to normal...

Except everything was glaring different now, wasn't it? And it didn't start when she was screaming his name in the throes of sex, and it didn't start when they were undercover pretending to be a couple...

It started at "phone sex" and smoldered up until this point, but now...

"Of course not," Ziva tittered as she kissed Tony again, hard. Like it was their last for a very, very long time.


"See you tomorrow," she sniffed, and Tony relinquished her hand as Ziva escaped his apartment and the face tempting- begging- her to stay, if only a few more hours. But she knew that would only make the withdrawal worse.

Now there was just a gaping hole; a festering sense of hollow loss because it was then that Tony realized:

He had just let The One get away. And there was no telling if he would finally get his happily ever after with the forbidden Ziva David when all was said and done.

Tony grit his teeth, trembling into the pillows as two miles away, Ziva David crumbled into tears in the safe haven of her car.

A/N: Wow. Okay. I think I need to go sob into a tissue now. I didn't mean to make this so angsty, but as the story progressed it just led in that direction. I could totally see this playing out, if Tony and Ziva ever did sleep together- a sort of mutual understanding that they could not speak of the event for fear of repercussions. This was probably more dramatic, and a whole lot sadder, than it had to be. But eh, what can I say, I'm an adorer of the shock and awe. My only wish is we get the happy ending I so devilishly stole from you all. You know, where it actually counts. TIVA! :D

Please review and stir the dregs of my soul? ;P

AngelMoon Girl