Archive of Our Own ^beta

 The drink in his hand was going down quicker than he’d intended. He supposed that was only natural when you drink alone.

Tony had only ever been to this bar once or twice - it was a little out of his way and the crowd was younger than he'd found himself interested in in recent times, but after another day spent ruminating over the events of the past few months he decided change was necessary.

As it turned out, a sabbatical wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The fact he was still thinking of it as a prolonged period off work, rather than a permanent departure, said enough. Tony had never been very good at not working: he could have fun, sure, but he enjoyed the security of having somewhere to go every day. Enjoyed the work and the feeling he was making a difference. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was making better sitting in his apartment kidding himself he’d start learning piano tomorrow. 

For now, a new bar. Or at least a different one to the one he’d usually head to after work.

He took a long sip of his drink and offered a cursory glance around the large room. He remembered it vaguely – the booths in garish red along the wall lined with windows, the strange light fixtures. The bar was already busy though it was still mid-evening, and the crowd was, for the most part, younger than him. Something that was happening more and more as he got older.

He remembered who it was that had first bought him here when he glanced off towards the booths at the opposite end of the bar and saw her, surrounded by a group of women several years her junior.

He wouldn’t expect Ziva to be the centre of attention in a situation like that, but she seemed to be; the other women all turned a little to be facing her. She said something and a woman with a loud voice sat opposite her responded but it was difficult to make out the words across the room. He watched Ziva smile in response, showing her teeth in a way that had been hard to come by in recent times. He wondered how much she meant it or if it was just for show, but he knew her well enough by now to see the genuine glint in her eyes.

She looked younger than she had in a long time, the weight of recent events off her shoulders. Even if only for a minute.

He wasn’t sure how long he watched her before she felt his eyes boring into her – truthfully he’d expected it sooner, trained as she was to know when someone was following her. She whipped her head around and her eyes found his instinctively, crash-landing without a second glance anywhere else. The smile she’d already been wearing still plastered on her face, making them shine under the artificial lights.

He lifted his glass a little in acknowledgement at her and her expression changed, a different kind of smile. Contemplative. Hopeful.

One of the women sat near her noticed her attention had been grabbed, and soon Tony seemingly found himself the talk of the town. The loud woman wearing a polka dot shirt leaned towards Ziva and said something, still looking at him, that made her roll her eyes.

It was the first time they’d seen each other since they handed in their badges. It seemed ridiculous, of course – they’d spoken every day as normal but something had stopped Tony asking her to hang out on that first night, and ever since then there’d been a kind of game of chicken being played between them, both of them waiting for the other to take the initiative.

It was what they did best.

Then again, maybe it was in Tony’s head. Things had been a little weird with what had happened with Adam and Parsons and their conversation at Gibbs’ cabin, conversations by phone and text desperately clinging to the way their relationship was before, though Tony realised it was a lot to ask given where they’d spent much of the past few months.

Their relationship had always been a to-and-fro but their latest shifts had been jarring. Tony couldn’t blame her, of course: he understood that, once again, the parameters of their interactions had been dictated by events happening outside of it. Though they had a remarkable ability to recover from spanners in the work, their relationship was a delicate thing. It was exactly what Ziva had been talking about in the woods, and maybe it was a cliché, but there had always been a part of him that had feared the ramifications on their relationship of taking the next step. Neither of them had ever been any good in romantic relationships, let alone when there seemed to be endless barriers and events and third parties preventing them from taking the plunge.

Ziva was still staring at him as he mused the point, assessing her expression for anything more than the anticipatory look she’d had on first seeing him. He raised his eyebrows at her and her smile grew minutely, shaking her head out of it.

It didn’t take long before she was standing up, leaning over the table to say something to the other women and then pointing in Tony’s direction. They all looked back at him for a second time but before he could get too self-conscious their attentions waned, turning back to their insular conversations as Ziva walked towards him with her drink in hand.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world..”

Tony turned to Ziva with a lazy grin. “Remember when you used to hate movies?”

“I am not sure what you mean.” Tony nodded with his eyebrows raised as he took a swig of his drink. Ziva looked around him at the empty stools. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Nope, just fancied a drink.”

“Do you want to join us?”

He thought back to the stares and comments that the table had been making about the two of them. “Oh no, that’s OK.”

“By ‘us’, you do realise I mean that table of beautiful women in their 20s? Who told me to invite you over?”

“Wouldn’t wanna cramp your style.”

He was surprising himself with his flirtatious tone – the ease at which it was coming to him after two weeks worried things would be awkward between them.

“Crystal wants to buy you a drink.”

“.. Crystal? How exactly do you know these women, Ziva?”

“They are my students.”

“We’ve been out of work not even 2 weeks and you’re a teacher? I know you accomplished stuff young, but even for you..”

“I am not a teacher, as such.”

It was phrased like the end of a thought and it amused Tony; the way she could state something and expect him to fill in the blanks for himself. He continued to watch her expectantly and she moved a little, drawing the stool next to him out from the bar and sitting down with her drink placed in front of her. Perhaps she could see a hint of surprise in his expression because she twinkled as she caught his eye. “A friend of mine who works at the university told me there’d been some break-ins recently. Considering I found myself at a loose end, I thought this would be something to do whilst looking for a job. Today was actually our first class.”

“Assassin turned self-defence coach for students. Someone should make a movie about you.”

“So you could force me to watch it over and over again? That is not likely.”

“In the movie you’d be nicer to me.”

Ziva did a quick, false smile, one that Tony associated so much with the early years of their relationship. “What about you? What have you been doing?”

“Just.. y’know. Enjoying the trappings of unemployment.”

“Sitting on your couch in your underwear, yes?”

“No.” Tony objected in a tone a little more playful than he’d intended. “Pursuing my hobbies. I’m thinking about taking a step into film-making.”

“I see. And did you have that idea before or after you heard what I am doing?”

“Maybe I’m feeling inspired.”

It was absurdly easy to talk to her like this – drink in his hand, her hair loose and the look in her eye thoughtful.

“I was gonna call you, actually.”

“Oh?”

It was the first time he’d felt anything other than relaxed since seeing her, and he subtly adjusted his posture. “What happened with.. everything with Parsons. I’m sorry if I was out of line.”

He knew it was early in the conversation to bring it up, and it reflected in the way she blinked before responding.

“You were not out of line. I should have been honest. Or not done it at all. I think I… I do not want to apologise again, but I am not sure you should feel bad about what happened.”

“I don’t know, I think I could’ve tried to talk to you in a different way. Not at a crime scene.”

“There was not much opportunity to. I wish it had not came out in the way that it did.”

“Guess this is what happens when you don’t talk about things, huh?”

Ziva looked at him carefully, though registered the wry smile on his face. “Yes, I think you are right there. So I think in the interests of acknowledging that, maybe we can resolve to be more honest in future.”

“Let’s.”

Tony held his drink out for her to clink against and then finished the dregs, feeling the slight burn of the alcohol against the back of his throat.

“Can I get you another?”

“You don’t have to stay here with me when you’re out with other people, y’know.”

Ziva looked over her shoulder at the group of girls, laughing loudly. She turned back to him with a demonstrative smile. “I am crunching their style. They are 15 years younger than me.”

He didn’t correct her, enjoying the resolute way she said the phrase. “Ah, now we’re even.”

She wasted no time in getting the barman’s attention and ordering two more drinks, waiting to continue talking until they had their refills in hand.

“You have always been able to keep up, Tony.”

“The pity in your voice says otherwise.”

She laughed, then: a cutting and striking sound that sent a flicker through his stomach. He watched her with his chin resting on his hand as she relaxed, sipping her drink and grinning still under his gaze. His own pensive expression reflected in it and it stilled a little.

"How've you been?"

"We talk every day."

"I know."

She looked at him for a split second longer than usual before exhaling. "I am fine."

"Yeah?"

"I will not pretend the past year has not.. thrown a lot of things my way."

“Understatement.”

“I don’t know, I think that maybe some time away from everything could be good for me. It is difficult for me to think of it that way – I have not had time off since I was 18 years old. So much has happened since then.”

“Well, I know how that feels. I didn’t even last one day at home before I was thinking about what I’m gonna do about work.”

“And..?”

“I-” Tony hesitated, not having put the thoughts fully into words yet. “I’ll end up back at NCIS, I think. Maybe not for a little while, but I don’t see this going any other way.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I mean.. yeah. I can’t think what else I’d do.” It wasn’t a convincing response though it was the truth, even if his priorities had begun to shift in recent years. It was scary to think about starting over again, especially at his age. He’d spent so long in law enforcement that the thought of doing something new was almost incomprehensible.

She was looking at him again with a question in her eyes, the startings of a frown between her eyebrows. He cleared his throat.

"You spoken to McGee?"

"A little. You?"

"I'm supposed to be meeting him next week."

"It is nice for him - he has got to spend a lot of time with his new girlfriend. He seems to like her a lot."

"Oh yeah, he's kept himself busy." The comment made Ziva smirk and it turned smug as she raised her eyebrows, taking a sip of her drink. "What?"

"You sound a little jealous."

"Of McGee? Come on." Had this been a couple of years ago he'd have rejected the idea much more strongly than the soft rebuttal he offered, but they both knew there was some truth to it. McGee was far from perfect in relationships and god knows he had his own track record, but he seemed to find it easier than the two of them. Not letting work and cases and pasts consume quite as much of his emotional energy. He'd always had friends, even if they were online, and hobbies, even if they were computer ones Tony struggled to follow.

It struck Tony more that he was a free man that he didn't have that. Maybe the time was coming for him to reassess his priorities.

Then again, maybe that was long overdue.

“OK, maybe I am misjudging you. But I think you could learn from him. See this as an opportunity to do things you have been putting off.”

“I think we both could.”

“Exactly. I can say it to you because I am the same.”

“Alright, but I’m telling you now that I refuse to accept McGee as a role model.”

"So who is your role model?"

"I am the role model." It was the kind of false bravado that might have got him a roll of her eyes years ago but was an inside joke now - self-referential like an old comedian.

"Really, Tony. Are you alright?"

The question surprised him a little, if he was being honest. Not that they never asked it: far from it, but it wasn't something you tended to bring up in regular conversation with someone you were in constant contact with. Usually reserved for occasions when you really wanted an answer, and he wasn't sure what it was that had made her desire one.

Perhaps less surprising was the hand she brought to his arm, landing just above his wrist. He looked down at it and thought of the times he'd done the same.

"I'm good. Really."

"I imagine something like this being difficult for you." Her thumb moved to stroke, once, towards the bone of his wrist. He hadn’t needed the comfort but he paid no mind as he felt his skin reacting to the touch, warming under her fingers.

"It's been weird, sure. But we'll figure it out. We always do, right?"

"I feel as though this may be a tougher situation to fight our way out of."

He knew she was right - not just with the Parsons situation but also Bodnar, and Eli, and everything else that had piled on them over the past year. Not so much for him, but for her. Maybe that was why she was raising it at all.

"You don't need to worry about me. Seriously." There was an unspoken phrase hanging over the edge of the sentence, that maybe it was him that should've been worrying about her, still, but she ignored it. Withdrew her hand. Gave him a smile.

"In that case, new beginnings." She lifted her glass in the air and waited for him to do the same before drinking a good portion.

“Woah, slow down. Is that a good impression to give in front of your young, impressionable students?”

“It was them that convinced me to come out tonight, actually.”

“And you said yes, and then abandoned them.”

“I can go back over if you would prefer.”

Tony glanced over at the table, which was only getting louder as another round of drinks was delivered to them. Tony wondered how much they’d had before he’d arrived, even if Ziva still seemed sober.

“I think it was me they wanted to stick around, not you.”

“Is that so?”

There was a strange contradiction between the flirtatious tone they were able to take with each other and the several serious things bubbling away under the surface. They hadn't always found it so easy to flip between the two.

“Uh-huh. But I’m good over here.”

It came out strangely more serious than Tony had intended and it made Ziva smile, even as he shook his head out of it.

“Besides, not sure they’re either of ours’ style.”

“This bar is not yours at all. What made you come?”

“Felt like a change. I remember we came here once.”

“Were you expecting to see me?”

“No, I actually didn’t remember who it was I’d come here with until I saw you.”

Interestingly, she didn’t quite seem to buy that.

The bar was gradually getting louder as the evening became night. Tony had always found alcohol hit him harder in crowds and he could start to feel the beginnings of it warming his limbs as he strained to focus on Ziva and not the rest of the room. The conversation, varied though it was, was not quite lending itself to the atmosphere, and as though on cue a loud shout of laughter came from somewhere behind Tony's head.

Ziva's eyes tracked the sound.

"Do you want to come back for a nightcap?"

"Yeah?"

"We can finish catching up there." It was a throwaway line but Tony suspected the truth in it, wondering if he would've been more honest here from the get-go had he had a little time to prepare and some quiet to keep their full attentions focused.

There was an awkward beat as the two of them waited for the other to make the first move to stand up, and Tony eventually stepped down from his stool as he downed the last of his current drink. Ziva grabbed onto his arm as he went to leave, and he looked down at it before looking up at her face.

“I need to go and grab my gym bag, I will catch you up.”

Tony started stepping towards the exit as Ziva pushed her way through the growing crowds back to the table she’d been sat at originally. She picked up a bag from under the table and spoke to the women, and Tony could only imagine the comments they were making from the look on Ziva's face.

She walked away from them with an exasperated laugh and a flick of a wave over her shoulder as she refocused her attention on him.

There was a breeze in the air as they stepped out of the bar that Tony couldn't remember when he'd entered, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. He and Ziva dodged a few large groups of tipsy people laughing their way down the street in sight of their next adventure as they walked away from it, streets quietening and the silence between them growing more deafening.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it was filled with anticipation. Tony cast a few glances Ziva's way to see if she was going to be the first to break it, getting out the things she'd evidently been holding onto inside.

"I never said thank you." It came out of the blue in the end, directed at the streetlights in the distance rather than him but her voice pointed and clear.

"For what?"

He knew he was being facetious, at least a little, and maybe he'd expected a smirk or a roll of the eyes in return. Instead when he caught Ziva's eye she simply stared at him, expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and he had to concentrate on watching the pavement in his periphery to make sure he didn't get too distracted.

After what seemed like an eternity, she grinned.

"No one thing in particular. Just.. everything you have done over the last couple of months. I know I did not always make it easy for you."

"It's not about making it easy on me. It's not about me."

"Thank you." She repeated the words and this time they were more closed - something he should accept without argument.

"You're welcome.”

She continued to stare at him for a moment before looking back down the street, and Tony was struck again by the ease of the conversation. He thought back to the last couple of weeks – his over-analysis of his messages, so concerned with making sure she understood things were good between them. His childish inability to call or ask her to hang out. It seemed, again, that he’d misjudged them. Incredible how a glance across a bar, a neutral setting without familiar eyes or expectation, could set things back on track.

The bar wasn't too far from Ziva's apartment and they mainly stuck to small-talk as they walked, catching up on mundane details from the last couple of weeks that had been bypassed in their text conversations.

Tony told her about his upcoming plan to start piano again and she'd laughed, a freeing innocent sound that offered him reassurance he hadn't realised he'd been seeking.

The more he spoke to her, though, the more he could see that the way she'd been with her college group was still an act. Things weren't as bad as they'd been, that was certain, but she was still a little thoughtful and more quiet than usual in the moments she wasn't under scrutiny in front of a crowd. Playing it up for the audience in a way he was all too familiar with.

Ziva's apartment building was mostly dark by the time they reached it, black windows shining under the illumination of the streetlight, the lights in the hallway a stark contrast to the rest of the interior.

When they got inside Ziva dumped her gym bag by the door, presumably to go straight back out to the laundry. She signalled the sofa with her hand and disappeared off towards the back of the apartment where the kitchen was.

Tony sat down near the end of the sofa, hanging his arm over the side and flicking his fingers a couple of times in mid-air. He could just about see her as she moved around the kitchen, hair flicking behind her.

She came back into the room with two scotch glasses filled with ice between the fingers of one hand and a bottle in the other. He took the glasses from her hand without asking and held them up as she used the bottle to pour, passing her one of the glasses in perfect tandem with her placing the bottle down on the table. The kind of easy synchronicity that came with years in such close company.

Tony picked up the bottle and glanced at the label, scratching at the paper lightly.

"This the bottle I left here?"

"You said I could keep it."

"I guess this glass can be payment enough."

She sat down in the middle of the sofa but tilted her body so she was facing him diagonally.

Under her watchful gaze he leaned forward to replace the bottle, suddenly feeling scrutinised at the action. Needing to occupy himself.

Ziva kicked off her shoes and placed her feet on the edge of the coffee table, heels pressed down into the wood, and lifted her knees slowly a couple of times.

“You tired?”

“I think I did not warm up enough before class today.”

“Maybe you’re getting a little out of shape.”

Ziva looked at him incredulously, taking in the playful expression on his lips. “That is not an argument you want to get into, is it? I could deal with you any day.”

“Hey, I won’t deny it.”

She rolled her hips a little, hand on her back. “I am sure I will remember for Thursday’s class. I did not realise it would take so much effort – the last thing you want is an instructor who seems stiff.”

"Well, at least one of us has landed on their feet."

He looked at her questioningly to see how she'd take the words, wondering mode and more about the issue. Whether she was throwing herself into things to avoid being alone with her thoughts. Distracting herself rather than processing.

"It is just temporary. I do not expect I will be doing it for long."

"No?"

"I am not sure I am cut out for it."

"Get frustrated easily?"

"Only with you." Tony chuckled and took a sip of the drink in his hand, feeling the ice cube melt condensation against his fingers. The room was strangely hot for this time of night. "No, I just have other things I feel I need to be doing."

"Like what?"

"I am thinking about taking a trip. Take the opportunity to get some distance from things here for a little while."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"Israel, I think.” She watched him carefully. “There are some people I did not see when I went to my father’s funeral. It would be nice to spend some real time there without a deadline. Not having to worry about Mossad’s knowledge of my every movement like I used to when he was in charge.”

"What you said before - about never having a break."

"I should try. I do not know if it will work but.." Ziva sighed and put her glass on the coffee table. Placed her hands purposefully in her lap and frowned at them. "I know you are biting your tongue, Tony."

"Not about-"

"Just be honest. I want to know what you are thinking."

"I think this sounds like a good idea."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You're right - some time away might be good for you. Chance to clear your head."

“I have never been very good at that.”

“Join the club.”

The smile she gave him was a genuine instinctive one, the kind that always sent a little flutter through his chest. It was more significant this time: he could feel the alcohol really starting to hit him, fuzzing the edges of his brain. He leaned back into the sofa, resting his neck against the cool leather.

Ziva turned her head to watch him before putting her drink down and leaning back herself. Her hair spread across the cushion and was grazing his left shoulder.

"I’d miss you, though. If you went away."

"You could always come." The question was innocent but the tentative tone to her voice that she tried to disguise immediately sent them hurtling back to the line. She was looking at him side-on with wide eyes, trying to assess his thoughts on the matter. He must have taken a split-second too long thinking about the implications, because she shook her head marginally. "I know things never go according to plan when you are there, but it would be nice to show you what the country has to offer. Without the baggage."

"Can we do 'without baggage'?" Ziva smiled at Tony's tease-tinted tone. He went serious, then, seeing a drop of nerves in her eyes. "I might take you up on that."

"Yes?"

"Say if you go, do what you need to. Drop me a line if you want company. Or if you don't, no big deal. I'm really super busy over here, so."

"I will. I think.." Ziva was being uncharacteristically coy with her words, "Perhaps it could be good for us. Spending some time away from everything here."

"I think so. We've got so bunkered in by everything this year. Clear heads, right?"

"I hope so."

She still didn't sound sure but he could see she was trying to be - the intentions clear behind her words, genuine desire for them to spend some time away from DC and the ghosts that were hanging in the crevices of their relationship. Whether this was achievable in practice, it seemed clear she wasn't convinced. Not for them - but for herself.

Feeling the hesitation in her posture, and the way she didn’t move to say anything else, Tony launched into a story about the Great Dog Incident that had happened in his apartment building last week. It was an abrupt change of pace, he was certain, but it relaxed her again, and the sight of her rolling-eyes laugh was one that wouldn’t get old any time soon.

As the story drew to a close the laugh began to subside, and her face took on a more serious position. She squinted her eyes a little as she watched him, and the undivided attention made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He finished talking slowly, fading out, but her expression didn’t change.

“What?”

She changed again then; something a little more like regret passing over her features. It was instinctive when his hand landed palm upwards on her leg, and she barely hesitated before interlacing their fingers. Their eyes met and she was smiling, again, though this one was tainted with a little sadness.

"Thank you. For being patient with me."

"Hey, I told you. Nothing to thank."

"I mean it, though, Tony. I know that nothing has happened the way we would have planned it to. And I know I have done things that have frustrated you, because you feel as though we took a step back."

"You're trying."

“I am always trying. It does not always come across that way, I realise, but I am. Particularly with you.”

“Kinda ironic – I think we both deal with things in the same way, but struggle to deal with it from the other person.”

“I think that is true. I understand your position – believe me, I have been there with you before. Wanting you to.. reach out to me, or tell me what is on your mind.”

“I know it’s not always that easy.”

“I cannot sit here and make promises.”

He could see it in her eyes - the sincerity with which she had no idea where this was going. For her, for him, for both of them together. It felt as though they'd reached the latest in a quick succession of impasses tonight, toes poking at the line.

Their fingers were still intertwined and she stared at them intently, as though they were moving. “I wish I could. But I want you to know that I… I hope one day things will be easier.”

“I hope so too. But it’s gonna be hard to stop me worrying about you."

"I know." She didn't argue any more of that, and he could feel a position of concession. That, in itself was a good thing: Tony knew it was always hard for either of them to accept the other's concern when things were particularly hard. That she could see it, now, was a good thing.

“And rest assured, I’m done with the whole avoiding-you thing.”

She exhaled a chuckle, somehow the topic devoid of all awkwardness. They had a knack for that. “Were you actually avoiding me?”

“Well, no. It was more like I was just thinking things would be weird. And then it turned into some kind of game of chicken against my own phone.”

"It has been strange, not seeing you every day."

He removed his hand from hers and moved it back to his lap, suddenly clammy.

"Ah, c'mon, Ziva. Don't tell me you've missed me." He beamed and she returned it, though he quickly returned to a more neutral expression. "I know. I think I just thought... it was dumb, worrying about how things would be between us. It's us." Those two words perhaps said more than Tony would be able to say in 200. “All the things that’ve happened in the past, it’s always water under the bridge.”

“There is always something going on, yes?”

“Exactly. I mean, this time last year we were… trapped in an elevator, probably.”

"Why is it that these things keep happening?"

"We seem to have a way of attracting trouble."

"Maybe it is your aftershave."

Before Tony could respond to the slight Ziva was pulling the glass out of his clasped hands, taking no care not to touch them heavily, and refilling it. He ended up drinking this one quicker still, watching as she imagined his response.

“What happened to absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“I think after nearly ten years of every day, it would be hard to change.”

“And now… what? We're gonna be people who hang out that don't work together. At least for now." He saw Ziva’s glint of uncertainty at his final sentence, which she swallowed with a long gulp of her drink. Something that filled a pit in the bottom of his stomach, even as she shook her head at him with a note of amused exasperation.  

"You say it like it is a foreign concept to you."

"It's kinda weird to think about, right? We'd never have met if it wasn't for work."

"What about if we had? Would we have been friends?"

"Not a chance."

"Then what?"

"Honestly?"

Ziva nodded and Tony twisted himself around so he was nearly leaning onto his side, the left side of his face against the sofa and his attention directed at her. She did the same, leaving them face to face, though she looked less buzzed with it than he felt in his own head. Her expression measured.

"I think you know what would've happened if our paths crossed."

"Yes, I suppose I do."

Surprisingly it didn’t feel heavy to admit, staring at each other face to face like this with their heads tilted into the cushions. They’d both always known it, of course, but he’d thought the admission would make his chest buzz with adrenaline rather than a small whisper of warmth at her smile.

"Things would've been simpler, that's for sure."

"I am not so sure about that."

"Maybe you're right. It's just our personalities."

"And work. Even apart."

"Yeah. Neither of us have ever been good at relationships outside of work. Dating, friends."

"We are not having this discussion again. I am good at having friends, I am just bad at keeping in touch."

"Then you're not good at having friends."

"I am not sure we are to blame for that. Doing what we have for so long.. I think it is a given that you make sacrifices."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be."

Ziva frowned a little, eyebrow into the sofa cushion. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know, I've just been thinking recently. Being so wrapped up in work, ignoring the other stuff.."

"It is inevitable."

It was an instinctive response that Tony knew all too well - battling and nervous, words out before she could fully process what he'd said. Trying to protect yourself.

"Nothing is inevitable."

The quick disagreement died on her lips. He hadn’t expected this train of thought to get as serious as it suddenly had done, alcohol no doubt playing a part in the way the air between them got heavy.

“You say it as though it is simple.”

“It’s not. Otherwise we’d always have done it. But I think it’s good to try.”

As he looked across at her now and saw the way her eyes flicked down his face he realised that this, if nothing else, had been inevitable. Even from the first day they met, with Ari and Gibbs and Eli and Jeanne and Jenny and Rivkin and Ray and EJ in the way, they were always supposed to find themselves here.

What it meant, he wasn’t sure. Where it was going to head, he was even less sure. Escaping the past was easier said than done, but he felt after tonight there could be no denials from either of them about what it was they were both thinking about. That if they were going to be able to, it would be for this.

“To being more like McGee.” The glass that Ziva raised in front of him was practically empty, and he hadn’t got one in his own hand so she tapped it against his chest before draining the rest and replacing it on the table.

She settled back down quickly, hint of a tipsy smile now on her lips as she watched him readjust between the conversations. He laughed and it took him a little longer than usual to close and open his eyes, shuffling an inch closer as he did.

“No, that’s what we’re not doing.”

They’d been here many times before – the wrong side of sober, sitting a little too close together, watching the other intently as they spoke in hushed voices as though in a secluded corner of a room.

His head was fuzzing more as he stared at her, fixating on a curl that had come loose from behind her ear and was hanging down the side of her eye, closest to where her head rested back against the sofa. He reached out to touch it and she shifted to allow him to tuck it behind her ear, eyes wide at the careful nature of the motion.

When he returned his hand to his lap, he shuffled the side of his head further into the cushion to look her in the eye more pointedly.

"I'm a little drunk." He said the words quietly, not far above a whisper.

"I think I am too."

He could see the conversation on the horizon. He wondered if he would be an idiot for putting it off again, delaying the chance again, but it seemed clear to him that there was an inevitability now. For as much as they’d been here before they’d never been this other thing underneath it as they put a drunken pause on things. They'd stepped beyond denials and hidden messages. Cards on the table.

He wasn't sure tonight was the right time - with the discussions of Adam and Eli and work and the worries he'd had all spring about Ziva's state of mind still ringing in his ears. He knew he wanted to be sober for it. Wanted to be sure he would remember every word and what was running through his head, the way she looked at him as she spoke.

“It’s late. I should probably be heading home.”

Ziva looked as though she was going to tell him to stay, and then bit it back with a small knowing smile that Tony could immediately sense the intention behind. Both of them understanding what was going on.

“Maybe you are right about that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s late.” She repeated, though suggesting something else entirely. 

He inhaled. "If you end up going to Israel do you wanna hang out again before you leave?"

"I would like that."

"Yeah? Cool. If you make any plans, just.."

"You will be the first to know."

"When you're there we can talk, if you want."

"Skype? It is not the same as face-to-face, I know."

"Sounds good. I can check out how the tanning situation is over there before I fly out."

"If you are asking me to wear a bikini..."

"No, I just meant your face gets tan in the sun pretty quickly."

"Ah, I see." Ziva nodded sagely and a smirk passed between them. They were still leaning far too close, and Tony cleared his throat by way of setting a timer to himself to move. They pulled a way in tandem, all hesitance and stretching limbs.

Tony took his time getting to his feet, smoothing out his trousers and re-adjusting his collar. He could feel that the back of his shirt was crumpled from where he’d been slouched and he pulled at the material half-heartedly, mainly looking for something to do as Ziva stood in front of him with her hands behind her back.

“It was good to see you.”

“Yes, you too.”

It felt strangely like the end of a first date, neither of them quite sure what the right protocol was for goodbyes. Ordinarily the word was enough – seeing each other as often as they did. The thought of that made Tony feel dumb, but then Ziva turned away and began walking towards the apartment entrance and he figured that would’ve been better than nothing.

His feet felt heavy as he followed her, dragging them along with half of his brain telling them to stop. As abruptly as she’d began moving, though, she stopped dead – stilling when she got within a couple of steps of the door and turning back on the heels of her feet to face him. 

Her mouth opened to say something and then closed again. Eyes fixed on his.

He didn't have to look at her expression for long before taking the initiative and lifting his hand to her jaw, feeling her move towards him slowly and then all at once as he captured her lips with his own.

It was softer than he could ever remember it between the two of them before – hazy, long-gone memories of sleepless nights the summer he was in charge and a tireless weekend in a high-end hotel room.

Her lips against his now felt like a promise: a statement that they'd talk about this again, one day - that maybe when all of this was behind them there'd be room for something more. That it was what they wanted.

When he lifted his hands and placed them either side of her head, running his fingers through her hair, he thanked god he hadn’t simply left like they’d intended him to.

Heaven forbid opportunities missed.

It wasn’t long before Ziva pulled away, minutely, separating their mouths but continuing to breathe into his space. Her hands came up to cover his on her face and pulled them down, finally opening her eyes when they dropped away completely. Her eyes were shining and it took all of his willpower to remember to do the right thing.

"I should be getting home." There was a heavy sigh in his voice that coaxed a smile out of Ziva, recognition of the struggle.

"Yes, probably."

He pulled away but grabbed his hand as he did, holding onto it until they moved out of each other’s touching range. His brain was foggy with something other than alcohol as he tried to retrace his mental steps, thinking what he had intended to tell her.

"Uh, remember what I said. Before you leave. And tell me if you want me."

The double meaning made both of them fidget strangely bashfully, smiles sudden and covered. There was a hint of giddiness in the air that dissipated quickly but had been present all the same.

“OK. I will... see you soon.” Ziva turned back to the door and opened it and Tony wished he could’ve spun her around again, watch the oddly coy demeanour that had suddenly overtaken her now.

He allowed his body to press against hers gently as he made his way past her and out of the door, feeling her move more firmly against him as he did so. When he turned back again she was close against the wood. Head poking round.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Do that.”

He smiled, again, at her tone, and nodded his head as he turned away and willed his feet to begin walking. He fought the urge to look back, but heard how long it took for the door to finally click shut.

He managed to get to the stairwell before the smile spread across his face.