Disclaimer: I own NCIS. Incidentally, I've just decided to name my stapler NCIS. To be clear, I do not own NCIS: The Television Show, but I totally own NCIS: The Stapler.
Summary: There's crime-y stuff, which is my usual excuse to write long Tony/Ziva stories because I feel silly if I don't give them work to do. Anyway, par for the course on the Tiva, but the whole team will also working on the case, which I'm sure will pop up at some point. Give me a break; it's not like I plan these things out in advance. If you want a vague hint – someone didn't want to go on the cart and it's a problem.
Spoilers: My fics Locked, Taking it for Granted, No Good Deed and Black and White, all conveniently listed on my profile page. Wow, that list is getting long. I'm starting to feel guilty asking people to do all this prequel reading. If you'd prefer the short version – through events that occur in those stories, including some regular cases, a super-spy mission, panda rescue and multiple serious injuries, Tony and Ziva have gotten together. And…you're pretty much caught up, unless you aren't in a hurry and have time to peruse the 90 chapters that set of innocent looking titles represents. The big spoiler-y/important background for this story is in No Good Deed, so…that really saves no one any time at all.
Is there a fic starting sometime soon? Someone promised fic. Oh, there it is…T rated shower scene in this chapter, but nothing graphic.
The colors were vivid inside the elephant. Pulsating music seemed to throb inside his skull. He was dancing. He didn't dance, not like this anyway. Orpheus.
Tony woke abruptly and heard noises coming from somewhere in the bedroom – drawers opening and closing, shuffling. He opened his eyes but was disappointed to find that he couldn't see in the darkness of the early morning. The mattress sank slightly a few moments later as Ziva sat to tie her sneakers. He reached across the bed with his left hand and his fingertips brushed the soft material of her winter running pants. She sat up and looked at him over her shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"S'okay," he muttered through a yawn. The clock on the nightstand glowed green in the darkness displaying 5:54 in numerals that appeared to float in midair. "Late today."
"It's Saturday," she said enthusiastically, "so I'm actually early."
"Ugnh." He tried to roll away from her indomitable morning energy, but the soreness in his right arm reminded him that he had to be careful. The cast had been on for only two weeks and his arm still felt broken. "Before you go out, can you…"
"Fresh glass of water next to your pills on my nightstand," she interrupted.
He looked left but, seeing nothing, looked right. "You mean my nightstand."
"I mean mine." She leaned over to kiss his forehead. "I get my side of the bed back as soon as your arm is better."
"Have a good run." He listened for the front door of the apartment to close before taking two Tylenol and settling back to sleep.
K-Billy's Super Sounds of the Seventies Weekend. He was tied to a chair. A man with a straight razor was threatening him. The smell of gasoline. Stuck in the middle with you.
Tony had to stop himself from shooting out of bed. As he relaxed, he automatically checked the pillow; there was no envelope addressed to him sitting on it. He exhaled loudly. "Nothing bad…just a dream." His eyes were already closed as he sank back into the pillow.
Mmgmnd…music…golnfinsjgohg…submarine, heuh…explosion …Blue Meanies!
"Blue Meanies?"
He opened his eyes to find Ziva lying beside him with her arm across his chest. She was still sweaty from her run. The clock now read 7:09. Rather than answering her question, he asked, "Aren't you going to shower?"
She smiled. "Thought I might need some company."
"Company or company?" She'd showered with him on several occasions since he'd broken his arm and it didn't always lead where he wanted, though he had to admit he appreciated the assistance. He was left with very little doubt about her intentions, however, when her hand slipped under the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms. "Mmm…you read my mind."
"As if that's ever a wrong answer." She withdrew her hand and stood, walking toward the bathroom. By the time he walked in, she was in the shower, standing under the spray. "Just let me do my hair and wash up. Then we'll do you."
"I like the sound of that." He needed time to relieve himself and tape a bag around his cast. He kicked up the toilet seat, taking some time to contemplate the consequences of flushing when he was done. Instead, he put the seat and lid down, washed his hands and prepared his cast. After a quick gargle with mouthwash, he asked, "Ready for me?"
"Just give me a minute…"
Ignoring her rebuff, he stepped into the shower to look at her. Her eyes were closed as she stood under the stream of hot water, running her hands over her body as she rinsed the soapy lather from her skin. He had trouble suppressing a groan as she spent more time than absolutely necessary on her breasts before her caresses slid down. His own free hand mimicked her movements on his own body and found that the stimulation of watching her had progressed in the usual way.
"Are we just going to stand here pretending this has to be a solo activity?" He made an effort to raise his eyes and saw that she was looking at him. "I heard you get in the shower, Tony."
"Oh, right." He stepped forward and the water cascaded over his shoulders as he kissed her. Her body pressed against his as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself into him. She turned him, setting his arm on the ledge. "Mmm, Ziva…"
"Relax for a minute. You need to wash up first."
"Tease."
"You love it." She nipped his earlobe before shampooing his hair. She stepped slightly further away. "What is it with you and the shower?"
"Guy thing," he explained, pulling her hips back toward him. "Makes us feel like our teen years were building up to something."
She tipped his head under the water. "So I take it you had a lot of practice then, yes?"
"No more than…" He stopped as the door creaked open.
"Ziva?"
They both froze as the unexpected voice echoed through the bathroom. She was the first to calm down enough to answer, "Michael? Is that you?"
"Yes. We are sweeping the apartment for listening devices. Is, ah, Tony with you?"
"Yes. What's going on?"
"I suggest you, ah, finish in the shower and meet us in the living room."
The door closed and Tony felt his excitement diminish rapidly despite the fact that Ziva was now hurriedly soaping his body. "Who was…"
"Officer Bashan." Her hands made quick work of his torso and back.
"So he's…"
"Moussad, yes." She was already down to his legs.
"In the living room?"
"It appears that way." She angled the showerhead to rinse him.
"You know I can manage this on my own, right?"
"This is faster." She reached behind him to turn off the water.
"This isn't going to be a normal Saturday, is it?"
"No." She wrapped a towel around his waist and placed his electric shaver in his hand. "Good thing we finished our apartment stalking last weekend, yes?"
He didn't bother to correct her. When they moved into the new apartment he was having every lock known to man installed on the door. The buzzing of his razor added to the noise from her hairdryer, making further conversation impossible.