Chapter Text
1
Ziva didn’t know her name. Correction, Ziva didn’t want to know her name. She was perfectly content not knowing anything at all, but that choice was taken away from her by skills that could not be turned off, no matter how hard she tried. Noticing a phone call there, a remark to Mcgee here, nothing glaringly obvious but not subtle all the same. Her ears instinctively attuned to his voice and any new information she could take in meant that she had more knowledge of the mystery women than she would prefer, that amount being none at all, thank you.
He was obviously attempting in his own way to keep it down-key. Short-key? Low played? He was not being overt about her as with previous dates, and there was no gloating of a Monday morning to anyone within a 5 mile radius about the conquest of the weekend. Tony of the first 9 months he had been in her life had been exchanged for a toned down version, for…her.
Taking a deep sigh and straightening up in her chair to crack her neck, she glanced over the aisle at the desk opposite. It was currently empty, unsurprisingly, as it was 8:00pm on a Thursday and they were not currently on an active case and therefore not required to still be present. Mcgee, and Gibbs, had left earlier in the evening, the former waving a quick goodbye rushing to meet Abby, the latter a curt not and an unspoken suggestion to call it a night. Tony was where she thought he would be at this time and that was not something she wanted to dwell on further, and so returned her eyes to her report.
It had been earlier this week, during a quick, cut and paste case that the realization had settled that it was true and it was happening. The fact that he had attempted to leave on time (laughable, really) the second day of the case, an incredulous look sent his way by both herself and Mcgee, a head slap delivered without hesitation. As Gibbs left to see Abby, Tony immediately vacated the bullpen, with both of his phones (‘one for each ear, Ziva’) to the alcove of the stairs, a calm persona coming over him as he began to speak into the second device. Though not as skilled as Abby, who learned with the same mastery as sign language, Ziva could of course read lips. And though not intentionally, she understood the half of the conversation she could view, and though never shy about spying on the team members and often finding joy in the shock bought when she makes herself known, Ziva kept her observations quiet.
She knew Jenny had taken him into something after he came back from Germany and Gibbs had returned to help her, before then even. And now, disappearing during active cases for hours at a time, meetings in the director's office becoming too frequent to be continued friendliness. The emergence of this other half of the coin however had been a surprise, she loathed to admit. Ziva David did not get surprised. She was trained to plan for all eventualities and to expect the unexpected. But, she thought, laughing bitterly to herself, that is what Tony was, no? A surprise, a projectile of American charm and ego that attacked her walls and cracked the foundation she had basically been born with.
Ziva focused again on Tony’s conversation with the mystery woman, seeing him smile. Not the DiNozzo charming, million-dollar smile, but a real smile. ‘I’m gonna be running a tad late, but you get that red open and the movie set and we can have an evening with Dick and Jo in Pari’ He spoke into the phone, and though she couldn't hear him, she knew the accent of old New York came out to charm. Tony was silent as she undoubtedly replied, then a full smile took over his face, and his eyes darkened ever so slightly as Ziva read ‘Oh Cheri, you know how it makes a man weak when you speak french’
1
Ziva came round the corner on her block, breath evening out and heart rate slowing. It had cooled down marginally now that the sun had set, but it was still hot by DC standards and she was sweating in her sports bra and lycra running shorts. Lifting her ponytail up from where it was sticking to the back of her neck, and beginning to walk towards her door, she stretched her shoulders and neck as she approached. As she got closer, a figure sitting against her steps came into view and became familiar when she drew near. Tony, now team leader DiNozzo of the MCRT for 1 week today, was slumped forward, elbow on his knees, a brown paper bag sitting at his side.
She furrowed her brow in confusion, but just as Ziva went to make herself known to the unexpected addition to her stoop, the phone attached to her hip rang out, causing her visitor's head to shoot up anyway, sending a tired but charming DiNozzo smile her way. Pulling the phone from her shorts and flipping it open, she raised her eyebrows in question at him as he, in turn, took a slow path with his eyes from her trainers up her legs and back to her eyes, resting a little longer on her chest as he went, his smile settling into a smirk. Rolling her eyes, Ziva spoke into the phone ‘David’.
A deep, accented voice answered her in French, causing her to smile and to reply in kind ‘Bonjour Adam, comment te trate le soleil du sud?’. As she became level with Tony, he rose to his feet and lifted the bag up to her eye level, raising his eyebrows, smirk still present and something else now in his eyes as he listened to her speak. Ziva brushed past him to head up to her door, twitching her head, indicating that he should follow her through.
‘Non non, je suis libre, que puis-je aider avec un vieil ami?’ As they moved through her hallway and into her open-plan kitchen and living room, Ziva continued her conversation with Adam. He was a good friend from her beginning days of Mossad and before, currently working in the south of France, and as he continued on the other side of the line it became clear he needed her knowledge rather than friendship this time around.
Ziva waved her hand to her kitchen counter, indicating that tony should place the bag there as she continued her conversation, raising a finger confirming she would be with him in a moment, moving slightly further into the kitchen. Tony dropped the bag of food on the counter, turning to lean back against it and face where Ziva had walked over to the far side of the kitchen, her back to him.
His eyes once again traveled up her bare legs, appreciating the shape of her thighs and butt in the lycra, and sending a silent thank you to the closest deity that it was a very warm DC evening. The tone of delicious French coming out of her mouth changed, causing his eyes to travel up to the back of her head. Lightness was gone, and though he could only understand one or two words, it was clear business had entered the room. This was the first time she had spoken french in front of him since the Ranier’s visited and the tingling it was bringing up in his lower stomach caused him to smirk. There was something about french, it was of course called the language of love for a reason, hell even Bond fell for it. Tony's mind wondered to Claudine Auger, the 23 year old french seductress, the original Bond Girl Domino, the similarities to his partner obvious.
‘C'est un autre que vous me devez! Bonne nuit, faites-moi savoir le résultat’ Ziva finished her call, turning back to her guest as she snapped her phone shut, smirking as she watched his eyes snap to her face ‘Important business and terrible timing’.
‘No worries, I’m never one to interrupt when french is being spoken by a half-naked women’ Tony replied, the charm oozing out of each syllable.
‘Of course, I do remember, moi Petit Pois’ she sent back, smoldering her eyes as he laughed outright at the throwback to when they played the randy married assassins. Ziva tilted her head as he laughed, staring at him ‘Tony, why are you here?’
Leave it to the spy to jump straight to it. Why was he there? It had been 8 days since Gibbs said the immortal words of ‘you’ll do’ and it has been the longest, strangest, fastest 8 days of his life. When in doubt, deflect.
‘I don’t know, but I bought Moroccan food and also Rick and Elsa to the party’ Tony replied, shooting her DiNozzo smile number 45: attempting to appease and distract, and pulling the DVD case from the bag. Ziva, of course, either did not buy that pathetic attempt or just wanted him to squirm. With her he knew it could be either, as she narrowed her eyes and leaned back on her opposite counter. Okay, he did kind of know why he was there at 8:30 on a Wednesday, plying her with Moroccan food and Casablanca. And he was too tired to keep the deflection up, honestly ‘Okay’ he sighed, rubbing his hand over his face and into his already tousled hair ‘Mcgee called me boss today’
Ziva continued to stare at him, though her eyes widened marginally at his statement, the Super Secret Spy front stayed solid. As she continued to observe him, tony looked away uncomfortably and down at the DVD in his hand, the charm facade falling slightly as the silence drew on. It was a stupid reason he knew, but Probie, his now senior field agent if he thought about it, calling him ‘Boss’ had forced the weight of the last week to become real. He didn’t know why he was here, specifically at Ziva’s house. Well, a voice in his head said that sounded familiar, that's a lie, he did. Ziva was the voice of reality and candid, and the only one it seems that has adapted smoothly, though he would expect nothing less of the Mossad Officer.
‘You know, I have not yet seen Casablanca’ The sound of her voice, in her normal, frank, I-am-trying-to-be-polite tone, caused his head to shoot up and his deep thinking to halt.
Ziva smiled internally as shock, confusion and relief passed across Tony’s features and finally was replaced as the Dinozzo veneer of American ego came back. She knew he was struggling, and she could do this, be the cool center he needed, and she could definitely watch a movie (though if he went off as he normally did on a zag-zigging rant she would not) and eat free food.
‘Oh officer David blasphemy! Are you sure they have movie theatres in Israel?’ Tony exclaimed, overacting his shock and grabbing his chest.
‘Yes Tony, though as the film came out long before I was born, I am afraid I missed the premiere’ She replied, eyebrows raising and then dropping, smirking at his display and decided to take his ego down some ‘Some of us were only born recently, and did not have the pleasure of seeing the creation of cinema first hand. Tell me, how did you feel seeing a moving picture for the first time?’
‘Oh you wound me, sweetcheeks’
‘I am sure you will recover just fine, oui?’ She pushed herself off the counter, dropping her phone behind her and walking closely past tony, looking him up and down suggestively and heading down the hall to her bedroom ‘Set up the movie, I am going to shower’
‘You need a hand?’ He called after her, smiling as she predictbly slammed the door behind her.
Hours later, Casablanca finished, Moroccan food and 2 bottles of wine consumed, Ziva sat next to Tony on the couch, an even older black and white playing on the TV that he had found when channel riding.
It had been…..nice? They had not really spoken other than the occasional threat towards tony when his movie trivia became too often and their usual lingering banter. Ziva had felt relaxed, well as much as she could be at any time, with Tony’s presence beside her. She knew he needed this, this normal thing, this companionship, and though it was something she was very much not used to, it didn’t bother her, really.
Tony could feel her looking over at him, his attention waning, and he rolled his head over to face her from its resting place on the couch, to confirm the tingle was her stare, a new, unknown look on her face for about 2 seconds until the shutters slammed down and officer David was back. He smirked at catching her ‘See anything you like?’