Title: My Honor
Pairing: McGee/Ziva
Rating: K
Genre: Het
Cat: UST, Fluff
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: None.
Summary: In the process of trying to cheer Ziva up, McGee realizes his feelings for her are deeper than expected.
Author's Note: Written as a Hangman prize for a friend on NFA. She requested flangsty (fluffy angst) McGiva with the prompt of "honor," and I decided to go with a little UST for the angst bit. Enjoy!
"I am bored." Ziva punctuated her words by crossing her arms over her chest and staring out at the crowd of formally-dressed people admittedly having a better time than she was.
Next to her, McGee sighed. "We have to do this, Ziva. Director's orders."
"What, stand around and watch a bunch of people having fun?" she responded, still sulking. "I do not understand why we were assigned this protection detail."
"Would you rather Tony be here with you?" McGee asked, the question coming out snottier than he intended. Ziva turned her head to him and gave him a surprised look and he apologized. "Sorry. Look, I know you don't want to be here, but . . ." He paused, his eyes suddenly taking on a devious glint.
Ziva sized him up, trying not to look too intrigued. "What are you thinking, McGee?"
He smiled at her. "Would you like to dance?"
Whatever Ziva had been expecting him to say, that certainly wasn't it, as she blinked a few times and finally repeated, "Dance?"
He shrugged, the boyish smile still on his face. "Yeah, I just thought that it might be fun . . ."
Ziva interrupted him by placing a hand on his arm and saying, "It would be my honor, McGee."
He grinned at her as she slipped her arm through his and he led them out on to the floor, saying, "Now, don't go expecting me to be all Fred Astaire or anything."
Ziva laughed. "Now that would surprise me." She moved to stand in front of him as they reached an empty spot on the floor. There was a lively jive playing, and they prepared to start dancing when the song came to an end and the crowd applauded the band.
"Saved by the band," McGee quipped, and Ziva rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smile off her face.
The band started playing again, this time a slow waltz, and Ziva raised an eyebrow at McGee. "Can you handle a slow dance, McGee?" she asked, her voice low as she stepped closer to him.
"That seems doable," he said, sliding his hands around her waist and enjoying the fact that he finally had the license to do so without getting his arms ripped off.
Ziva raised her hands to McGee's shoulders, secretly glad he hadn't gone for the formal dancing stance. She felt much more comfortable this way, and it gave her a chance to get closer to him without him getting suspicious.
They began to sway to the music, Ziva eventually resting her head on McGee's chest, causing him to take in a deep breath. He hadn't counted on this when he asked her to dance. He just wanted to make her smile, and it seemed so obvious . . . But now, Ziva had moved her hands from his shoulders down so she was basically hugging him, her hands splayed across his back as she moved in perfect harmony with him, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined this exact scenario a million times before.
McGee had never really looked at his attraction to Ziva as anything more than just a typical crush - well, if one could consider their situation typical. But he'd never thought of his feelings running deeper . . . until now.
Ziva kept her eyes open as they danced to the song, trying to ignore the strange feelings in her stomach as McGee absently ran his hands over her back, his touch gentle. McGee was her friend and her co-worker. She found him to be a handsome man, but she had never allowed herself the luxury of feeling anything more. In this moment, though, she knew that was a big lie and that those feelings had likely been hiding inside her for quite some time, just simmering under the surface, until it would be too much to handle and she would explode from the pressure.
They were each so lost in their thoughts that they didn't notice the song had finished until the crowd broke into applause again, and they reluctantly separated from each other, not making eye contact.
McGee brought a hand up to his face, hoping he wasn't revealing his true feelings through his expression. The last thing he needed was for Ziva to feel sorry for him. When he removed his hand and looked down at Ziva, he found her looking away from him, like she had been caught staring. He sighed and looked across the room, where he saw the agents come to replace them.
"Um, looks like our replacements are here," he said, and Ziva nodded.
"Ah, thank you for the dance, McGee," she said, and she raised her head to look him in the eye, forcing herself to give him a small smile. "It was very nice." She turned to walk away then, and McGee sighed to himself, knowing it was his fault that things were awkward now.
Before he could think about what he was doing, he was saying, "Ziva, wait." She stopped and turned around, her expression trying hard not to look hopeful. McGee shrugged. "Let me walk you out." Ziva waited for him to join her, and the pair walked out of the ballroom, the sounds of the party fading behind them as they went.
They stepped out into the cool night air and Ziva instinctively shivered, so McGee automatically shrugged off his blazer and draped it over her shoulders, surprising her. She looked up at him, smiling. "You did not have to do that, McGee. But thank you."
"You're welcome," he responded, then paused before continuing. "Listen, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." Ziva looked at him in confusion and he elaborated. "I just wanted to cheer you up, and I guess I got sucked up in the moment."
Ziva nodded in understanding, though she felt disappointed. "Yes, me too," she said softly, then added, "I do hope this won't make things awkward in the future."
"Yeah, I hope so, too," McGee said quietly, then looked over at Ziva again, deciding to go for it and let it out. She knew already, if her words were any indication, so he'd just be voicing it. "It's just a little disappointing to know you don't feel the same way I do about you." Ziva's head shot up at that, but he didn't even notice, he was so caught up in his revelation. "I mean, I guess I never really thought about it until -"
"What do you mean, McGee?" Ziva interrupted him, laying a hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand, then up to her face, trying to figure out what it was she was saying. She gave him a soft smile. "I thought I was imagining things back there." He continued to give her a look of disbelief and she shrugged. "I guess you could say I had the same realization tonight as you did." He continued to stare at her, not saying anything, and Ziva wondered if she had misread him. Her smile faltered and she dropped her hand from his arm. "Well, I should be going . . ."
She stood up to leave, but McGee's hand on her arm stopped her. She didn't turn around, so McGee gently did it for her until she was facing him again. He tipped her chin up with a finger. "You're gonna tell me you like me and then just walk away? I don't think so, Ziva."
She looked surprised, then let out a breath of relief. "You can be a very good actor when you wish, McGee."
"Well, I'm not acting now," he said, taking a chance and brushing her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. Ziva looked up at him expectantly, and he allowed his fingers to run down the side of her face before lowering his head to hers and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
It was a short kiss, nothing terribly passionate, but to them, very romantic and just perfect. They pulled away from each other, smiling, and McGee slid a hand around Ziva's back as he walked her to her car. As she opened the door, she slipped his blazer off and handed it back to him, then ducked inside the car, while he held the door open, one last question on his mind.
"So, I don't know about you, but I don't think I'm quite ready for the night to be over." He smirked down at her. "Meet me at O'Leary's?"
Ziva smiled up at him and repeated her words from earlier, the ones that felt like a perfect fit for the whole night. "It would be my honor."
THE END!