A warning to my regular readers (if I have any): This story is a bit different from my normal stuff. I don't usually write couples, but the pairing here is established Ziva/Gibbs. I know all my other stories about them are father/daughter, but this plot bunny came out of nowhere and would not leave me alone until I wrote it! I hope that a few of you who don't ship Zibbs will give this story a try anyway, because nothing graphic happens and some scenes (although not the ones in this chapter) could still be taken as father/daughter.
My plan is to write tags to a few different episodes of Season 9. The chapters will be named after the episodes, because I'm not creative enough to think of my own chapter titles. We'll begin with 9x04 "Enemy on the Hill." I tried to make this chapter fun and flirty, which is also a big departure for my usual angsty self.
Needless to say, this story exists in a happy place where Ray Cruz does not. ;)
(For my own reference: 29th fanfiction, 20th story for NCIS.)
He's seen Ziva wear that slinky blue shirt before – the one that hangs off her loosely in some places, but clings to her in all the right ones. The last time she wore it, it was just the two of them, and when she caught him admiring the wide V-neck, she had smiled, leaned in, and whispered in his ear, "The blue matches your eyes, yes?"
When she walks into the bullpen wearing it, Gibbs can't help but stare for a second, noticing how the neckline is so low that her Star of David necklace is resting on her bare skin. And when Ziva catches him at it again and gives him a tiny slice of a smile – just brief enough so the guys won't notice – he wonders if she has something up her sleeve. So to speak.
He's pretty damn sure of it when Sportelli arrives in the bullpen. Because that's when Ziva decides to park her lovely ass right on his desk and keep it there while Sportelli briefs the team on catching Arliss.
Gibbs keeps typing at his keyboard and pretends not to notice, even as he tries to figure out how to react. He'd like to just let her sit there so he can enjoy the view and how that shirt hangs down her back; it reminds him of his bedsheet falls loosely across Ziva's bare back in the mornings. But the correct response would be to bark at her and tell her to get off his desk. That's what he would do if one of the guys ever dared to sit on his desk, and he doesn't want to look like he's giving Ziva special treatment and make anyone suspicious.
He's about to tell her to move it when Tony laughs and makes a dig at Sportelli. "So you arrested the unconscious man – did you have to cuff him when he was down on the sidewalk?"
Ziva chuckles and glances casually over her shoulder at Gibbs. That's when he realizes that she's deliberately trying to get a reaction out of him, wearing that low-cut shirt and parking her ass right in his line of vision. She's been wanting to go public with their relationship for months, but he's insisted they keep it a secret from the rest of the team. Now she's trying to provoke him into doing something that will reveal it.
Gibbs knows how to react now that he knows what Ziva's up to. Instead of ordering her off his desk, he ignores her sitting on it. He ignores the perfect, delicious view of her back. He looks at Sportelli and asks calmly, "How'd you ID him?"
She's a damn good player, but he's not about to let her win this little game.
"Why don't you let an agent shadow you at work?" he suggests when Brett insists that he can take care of himself and doesn't need to go into protective custody.
Brett starts to object again, but then he looks at over Ziva, who's standing right in front of him and still wearing that damn low-cut blue shirt. Gibbs immediately regrets his suggestion. The way that guy's looking at Ziva –
"And who would be the agent shadowing me?" Brett asks pointedly, still staring at Ziva.
Gibbs is about to answer Not her and call DiNozzo or McGee to give one of them the job, but then Ziva tilts her head towards Brett and gives him her flirtiest smile. And Gibbs knows that she's still trying to provoke a reaction out of him, something that will make it obvious they're in a relationship.
So he grits his teeth and gives her the job of tailing Brett. He has to grit his teeth because if he didn't, he would add to Brett, threateningly, "But don't you get any ideas. She's mine."
Ziva's voice is tense when she calls him that evening, asking him to pick her up. Gibbs starts to ask about Brett, but she interrupts him, saying shortly, "He ditched me." She sounds so angry with herself for letting this happen that Gibbs doesn't press her for details. He just tells her, "Be right there."
He buys her dinner on the ride back to his place – a burger and fries from some fast-food joint – mildly surprised when she doesn't object, just thanks him quietly. Ziva must really be pissed if she's willing to eat fast food. Normally she cooks dinner for the two of them whenever she spends the night with him. She loves to cook, especially for him. And Gibbs loves eating her food, especially when she steals his fork and holds it up to his lips for him.
They're about halfway home when Ziva's cell phone beeps, and she slouches down in her seat a bit, just enough for her shirt to ride up and expose some of the tanned skin of her abs, and pulls it out of her hip pocket. She straightens up and slides it open, and the bluish glow of the screen casts such a strong light on her face in the dim car that Gibbs has to struggle to keep his eyes on the road – especially when her lips slowly spread into a smile and she looks from her phone over to him, teasingly.
"I got a text from – the guys," she tells Gibbs, still smiling. There's a pause in her voice, no more than a fraction of a second, but it's enough to tell Gibbs how she's choosing her words. Saying the guys instead of DiNozzo, even though he knows it was almost certainly DiNozzo who sent her the text.
"Apparently Kaplan's landlady was quite taken with you," Ziva goes on. Of course. Gibbs had been expecting DiNozzo to tell her about Ms. Roach's attempt to flirt with him since it happened. It was all his Senior Field Agent could do not to burst out laughing back at Kaplan's apartment. "Should I be worried?"
He smiles at her and teases back, "Only if I should be worried about you and Brett."
Her anger over losing Brett has melted away, and she just smiles and tilts her head thoughtfully. "Well, I was tailing him all day. Staring at his ass..."
It's almost funny how quickly Gibbs's smile disappears. But he wasn't expecting that answer, and now he remembers that Brett is at least ten years younger than he is, with blonde hair and dimples in both cheeks. The sort of guy women swoon over.
He isn't aware that he's frowning until he feels something brush lightly against his mouth, tickling. Ziva has taken a French fry out of the fast-food bag and is trailing it along his lips. With the warm, salty smell right under his nose and Ziva's slender fingers so close to his mouth, he can't help but grin.
"That's better," Ziva says in a low voice. She's leaned over in her seat, so her lips are right at his ear now. "Jealousy does not become you, Gibbs."
When they get back to his place, Gibbs changes out of his usual work clothes into a old NIS shirt and worn pair of jeans. He comes out of the bathroom and finds Ziva sitting at his dining room table – no, she's sitting on his dining room table, her long legs stretched leisurely out on one of the chairs, finishing off the burger and fries he bought her. Her head is bowed slightly as she wipes her fingers on a napkin, and she's pulled out her ponytail, so her loose hair falls down around her face.
Gibbs says as he crosses his sparse dining room towards her, "First my desk, and now my table, Ziver?"
"So you did notice when I sat on your desk." Ziva looks up at him and smiles, but her words are slow and sultry. "I was starting to think you'd lost interest." She leans back, her hands behind her on the table for support. She still has on that loose, slinky blue shirt, and as she stretches her arms, the material is pulled tighter across her breasts in a way that drives Gibbs crazy.
"You know what else you can do on this table?" he asks her. He's standing right in front of her now, but the chair that she's resting her feet on is still between them. Gibbs grabs it from under her feet and shoves it out of the way. Its legs scrape loudly against the floor, and Ziva's legs are left hanging over the edge of the table. There's nothing blocking his hands now, if he wanted to reach out and grab her hips, or slide one of his legs between hers.
Ziva just grins wickedly, as if she was hoping he would ask that very question, and she raises her hand to her mouth and licks a dab of ketchup off her finger. Gibbs can practically see the sparks in her dark eyes.
Ziva wears her hair down to work the next day. It's loose and a bit mussed, but it works well to hide the marks he left on her neck.