Sahara Shade

A/N: So I decided to try my hand at the fantastic relationship of Gibbs and Ziva... I have been a fan of this pairing since I started watching NCIS and have read so many fantastic fics here that the bug hit me early on. I've been wanting to write a long sweeping epic, because I have a tendency to do that... but I figured I'd give a little one shot a go first. With the encouragement of my dear friend Zivacentric, and the conversation we had about enjoying the idea of extraordinary people in seemingly mundane every-day circumstances, I came up with this. So this is dedicated to you my dear. And a little nod goes out to Sehrazad for pointing me in the direction of the "painting"... Thanks guys!

Enjoy!

"I really like Desert Sunrise."

Gibbs wrinkled his nose. Desert Sunrise? Was she serious?

"Although, it is really not the color of a true desert sunrise rise but it is a pretty color, yes?"

The corner of his mouth lifted in an involuntary sneer. 'Pretty' wasn't really what he was going for. But then again he thought the white was just fine.

"Do you have any opinion on this mater or am I to assume from your silence that I have free rein to choose whatever I want?" She lifted a finely arched eyebrow at him. Her dark eyes held a twinkle of amusement in them but she was deadly seriously. She meant business.

"You do not have free rein. And I don't want pink," he told her.

She sighed heavily and placed the little card back into its slot. "How about this one?" she suggested plucking out another tag. "Autumn Candle?"

"It's yellow."

"It is a very golden, almost toasted yellow," she said wistfully. "Almost the color of a rich Indian chicken curry."

"Chicken curry looks like dog throw up," he muttered.

He almost laughed out loud when she turned a fierce stare at him. "Jethro, please. How am I supposed to pick out a color if all you do is stand there and glare at me? You are not helping in the least."

Gibbs shrugged and put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "You pick out the color. I give my opinion."

"Yes and you have negated every choice I have made so far. We've been through the entire rack already," she eyed him in exasperation. "Is there not one color you like here in the thousands of colors to choose from?"

"There's colors I like," he huffed. "Just not the ones you're picking out."

"All right, you tell me which ones you would prefer then," she said gesturing with her delicate hand.

He looked at the myriad of colors for a moment and then pointed to one along the top of the display. Gauging by her reaction, she wasn't pleased. Her mouth dropped open and her deep brown eyes widened in astonishment.

She took a breath of measured patience before speaking. "That is the exact color the walls are now."

"Uh huh."

"Gibbs, they are chalk white."

"Uh huh."

"It's cold and impersonal."

"I like the white."

"I do not," she shook her head. "A bedroom should be warm and inviting."

"It is warm," he huffed in defense.

"With curtains and soft bedding..."

"You don't like my Marine corners?" he questioned, affronted by her insinuation that his bedroom was less than comfortable.

"It should be a place of sanctuary." She took a step closer and moved her hands to his chest. "Cozy." Her nimble fingers slipped up to his neck. "Romantic."

He narrowed his eyes at her keeping up his pretense of being a hard ass marine but a smile threatened to dawn on his lips as she eyed him coyly from underneath her dark lashes. His voice was low when it came out. "You weren't complaining last night about what color the walls were."

"No, but you also promised me we could paint it this weekend while the director was away and we had the time," she cooed as she brushed her lips over his.

"You blackmailed me," he protested.

"You agreed," she pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Sort of." God, she felt so good. This was exactly how she got him to agree to painting the room in the first place. Her delicious, seductive lips.

Her impish smile reached her eyes with a definitive glint of mischief. "I believe the words were, 'Oh God yes! Whatever you want Ziver, just don't stop'."

If there was a woman on the planet who could make Leroy Jethro Gibbs blush like a pubescent teen, it was Ziva David. She was fire and spirit and more woman than he had ever had the pleasure of. And man, did she do things to him that made his toes curl in sublime appreciation. If they weren't in the middle of the paint aisle at Home Depot, he would have hoisted her up on the counter and had his way with her for the second time this morning.

Acutely aware of his surroundings, Gibbs placed his hands on her tempting little hips and gently pushed her away from him as a family rounded the corner with one of the huge orange shopping carts. He looked around sheepishly while she giggled under her breath returning her attention to the rainbow of paint choices.

Clearing his throat, he gestured toward the paint chips. "Fine, just pick a color and let's go before I throw you over my shoulder like a caveman and we don't spend any of the weekend painting in the bedroom."

She bit the corner of her lip and winked at him before fingering the edge of a different paint chip. "What about this one?"

He eyed the color suspiciously for a moment. He couldn't read the color name printed on the corner because he didn't have his glasses on but he could clearly see that it was sandy gold. A bright, yet not horribly offensive yellow.

"It's called Sahara Shade," she told him.

"There is no shade in the Sahara."

"I know," she said patiently. "Do you like it?"

Placing his hands on his hips, he considered it for a moment. "It's not horrible," he replied.

"It is not horrible as in, you could live with it or it is not horrible but you would rather paint McGee's bedroom this color?"

"I don't want to paint my bedroom let alone McGee's," he argued but then nodded his head in acquiescence as she shot him another glare. "Yeah, I can live with it."

"Good, because I really like it," she cooed and then sauntered over to the counter to the unsuspecting gentleman to order the paint. He watched the older man become enchanted with her as she handed over the color chip.

"Kitchen, living room or bedroom, darlin'?" the older man asked. Gibbs could see the unmistakable twinkle in his eye. Ziva had that effect on every man over the age of ten. None of them were immune to her when she wanted something.

"Bedroom if you must know." She winked brazenly at the man and Gibbs came over to her and placed his hand low on her back to reel her in a bit.

"Just need to know what finish you'd like, sir," the attendant assured him, giving Gibbs a knowing smirk.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him before returning the man's smile. "Interior eggshell."

"Allrighty then, give me a couple of minutes," he told them happily and went off to gather the paint for them.

Gibbs guided her over to the paintbrushes and accessories. They grabbed replacement rollers, a few new brushes and some blue painter's tape along with some paint trays and a plastic tarp. By the time they had picked up their supplies and deposited them into a cart that Ziva had acquired, the paint master was done.

A hundred and fifty dollars later, they were on their way back to the house via Starbucks, of course. He needed coffee, hot and strong before tackling this project.

After they hauled all of the stuff in, they moved the furniture out of the room and into the spare bedroom. There wasn't much; just the bed, a bureau and two nightstands. He knew at some point he had to move the dust-covered boxes that sat strewn about untouched for over a decade, but now was not the time for that project. This Sahara Shade thing was change enough and for some odd reason, he didn't want to contemplate, Gibbs was okay with that.

Ziva helped him put drop cloths down to cover the wood floor and he situated a ladder near one of the corners. She had insisted they put some music on while they worked, but he made her agree to switch it over to the game when the time came. There was only so much jazz he could take and he knew DiNozzo had money riding on the home team.

Gibbs watched her stand in the middle of the room. Even in the empty space, her tiny figure held such a commanding presence. Her vitality could barely be restrained. Her hands rose with a catlike grace to tie her thick curly hair back. The action made her small gray t-shirt rise above the edge of her tattered jeans and he vaguely wondered when she had brought those over to the house before he was completely distracted by the smooth sweep of her waist as the delectable curve dipped into the frayed waistband. They had been together for months now and she still made him stare as if he was seeing her for the first time. He was amazed at her sheer beauty.

Shaking his head, he blinked and cleared his throat. "You want to roll or trim?"

Turning her lovely face to his, she stared at him blankly for a moment. Her lips twisted into that hard little frown like they did when she was confused by something. "Um… I do not know," she replied cautiously.

Oh no…. he thought grimly. Seriously? "Ziver, have you ever actually painted a room before?"

She shook her head slowly, confirming his suspicions, and then took a sip of her berry frappuccino that she had placed on the ladder.

Gibbs looked at her in disbelief.

"What?" She shrugged her slim shoulders and came back at him with that confident stare that belied the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. "I have always lived in places where someone else took care of that."

He shook his head and then smiled wryly. He should have guessed. She had always lived in her father's home, some sort of military housing, or apartments. Of course, she wouldn't have known how to paint an entire room but fearless as she was, she was willing to tackle it anyway. He smiled and stepped closer to her, slipping his hands around her waist.

"Ok," he nodded. "How about we both start with the taping and go from there?"

Her beaming smile was all the reason he needed to take on the task of teaching her how to paint a room.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, laying her head on his shoulder for a moment before looking back up at him eagerly, ready to get started.

He touched his lips to her forehead and then joked, "Better wait to thank me. The taping is a bitch."

Chuckling merrily, she grabbed a roll and the lesson began. What she lacked in experience she made up for in determination. Of course, it wasn't rocket science and she was a capable, fast learner. Her unwavering perfectionism made it go a little slower than Gibbs wanted, but he was endeared by the fact that she didn't want to screw it up and let him down. What he didn't tell her was that the way her sweet little behind kept wiggling at him as she crawled around the floor on her knees made him not care one iota if she painted drips and squiggles all down the hardwood moldings and onto the floor. He would gladly sandblast the surface clear just so he could watch her go through the motions again and again.

After a brief interlude for some lunch, they finally began the painting process. He showed her how to trim with the paintbrush and they decided that since she could see the details close up, it would be best for her to take on that task. He would roll.

"There seems to be some green color here," Ziva's curious voice broke the companionable silence that had fallen in the room as they worked.

Gibbs merely grunted and continued to dip the roller into the tray.

"Jethro, this room was once painted green," she announced.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Uh huh."

"And I found some faded blue over there by the window," she said pointing to the windows that faced the front of the house.

"Ya huh."

He wondered how far she would push it. Hell, he knew how far she would push it. He'd trained her too well to see the details and then not let it go until she had answers.

"The green is a pretty color. The blue not so much. When you moved here were the rooms once a different color than white?"

"No. They were white."

Now she openly stared at him from her position on the ladder. "That means that you had painted them this green, and the blue."

"Not me."

"Then who?" she asked curiously.

He pushed his roller into the paint again and then just eyed her, not really wishing to talk about it. He hoped his silence on the matter would give her the hint. But she wasn't biting.

He large dark brown eyes followed his movements and bore into him as she magically pursued him from across the room. God, he loved that about her. She could intimidate a perp from fifty yards away, and up close she was down right lethal. Now, that he was under her intense scrutiny, it made him squirm… just a little.

"What do you want to know?" he found himself saying.

Her face softened and she leaned on the ladder, looking at him with those lovely eyes. "Jethro, did Shannon paint this room?"

A-plus and a gold star for his girl. He cringed a little to hear his wife's name come from his lover's lips. It felt incongruous and strange, but there was compassion in her voice. And thank God… no pity. Ziva wasn't one to offer pity. He knew that. She cared about him and was curious. That was all, but the look in her eye told him that she was worried that she might have overstepped her bounds.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he continued to roll the paint as if they were talking about the weather while he explained. Of all of his ex-wives and lovers, she would be the one to strong enough to respect his dead wife's presence in his life. "Shannon used to paint a different room every time I was deployed. She said it made her feel hopeful, like a new coat of paint was a fresh start. That I had to come back home to see it."

He chanced a glance at her and he saw a smile on her face and it made him smile in response. "One time, I was in Jordan for six months. I came home to a red living room."

Ziva's musical laughter floated over him, soothing him. "I can't imagine you with a red living room."

"We painted it beige that weekend," he said grinning self-consciously.

"Well, I will not make you paint the living room red," she promised as she came over to him and hugged him from behind.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For sharing that story," she told him.

Gibbs, leaned his roller and pole against the empty white spot on the wall and turned in the circle of her arms.

She looked up lovingly into his face and beamed that wicked smile of hers at him. "A bright cheery yellow perhaps?"

Gibbs threw his head back in laughter. She was a bulldozer. "One room at a time, Ziver."

She pouted slightly and then touched her finger to his nose. "You have paint on your nose."

Rubbing his nose against her cheek, he transferred a long streak on her soft skin. "Not anymore."

She opened her mouth in surprise and hit him hard on the shoulder. He grunted but tightened his arms around her playfully, not letting her go. Her protests died out and they were caught in a steamy trap, eyes locked intently on one another. He hadn't told her he loved her yet, but oh how he did. So much stronger than the others. Dare he say, even as much, if not more than he loved his first. The pull to say it was magnetic and the words were right there at the top of his throat.

He opened his mouth slowly to speak, but she pressed her finger to his lips, keeping his words at bay. Her eyes were full of complete and utter compassion, and deep, true understanding for what he had such difficulty letting go of.

"When the time is right, you will not hesitate."

She knew him better than anyone, this amazing woman in his arms; she understood his soul. "I will be here when you are ready."

Tenderly, she took his face into her hands and brushed her lips across his. She nipped at his lips with her teeth and then slipped her tongue in to seal her promise to him. They kissed passionately, mingling in their shared heat. Her little sighs of pleasure stirred a yearning within him that had long been dormant. Every time, as soon as he touched her, she would melt into him like liquid velvet. The result enthralled him and he simply couldn't get enough of her. His hands moved to her backside and he pulled her hips against him, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments just reveling in the feel of each other, she pulled away from him, ending the kiss. Gibbs felt his hot lips split into a wide grin. "Well that was nice," he said. "But, I was just gonna ask you if you want pizza for dinner."

She opened her mouth and gawked at him before stepping away returning to her perch on the ladder. "For that, mister, you will have to endure shopping with me for curtains and new bedding at the Bed and Bath Depot."

"Bed, Bath and Beyond." Gibbs chuckled picking up his abandoned pole to resume his task. "Not Depot."

"Were we not at the Home Depot?"

"Yes."

She waved her hand dismissively. "There are too many large stores in this country. And every town seems to have the same ones. It is too many to remember."

"It is." A few moments later, he turned to her. "Maybe we could stop and take a look at some new beds… while we're out."

Ziva paused and then looked at him seriously for a moment before a small smile dawned on her face. "I'd like that."

Gibbs nodded and looked around his room. A comfortable golden glow surrounded him. It was most definitely not horrible. In fact, he felt extremely content, like a cloud had passed and the sun was coming out. He knew that it wasn't just the color that brightened his life but it was because of the warmth and love of the woman who had chosen it. She had brought light back into his heart and if she wanted to paint the entire house to feel like she belonged in it, then so be it.

He would gladly be her handyman.