AN I don't own NCIS or any of its characters. Tiva!

"Hey, you're in pain." Ziva rolled her eyes and continued unpacking the sniper from her bag. Just a habit, in case she needed it soon. She liked watching through the sniper scope more than the camera scope-it fit her face more easily and was already focused to her preferences. And it happened to have a gun attached. But Tony wasn't letting up that easily.

"No, I saw you wince when you grabbed that bag. You're sore from that fight last night." Again, she shrugged him off and moved to the laptop on the folding table of the motel room.

"It's nothing I cannot handle, tony." Beside her now, he frowned and scrutinized her, hunting for any sort of weakness in any of her movements.

"You should at least take some advil." Yet again, she rolled her eyes.

"We are in a war zone, Tony. We do not have advil." An exasperated sigh came from the man as he moved away. Finally, she thought. She couldn't help getting more and more uncomfortable the closer he got to her.

"My bad," he said suddenly, almost directly behind her. "But we do have a bathtub." She glared at the implication and at him but took her hand off the knife she hadn't realized she was holding and tried to shrug him off.

"Yes, because a bathtub is the answer to all of our problems." Immediately something told her she should not have phrased it that way. Our problems. A wicked sort of arrogance melted into Tony's eyes as he looked at her. Down at her, she noted. Had he always been that much taller than her?

"Don't be so cynical," he chided, stepping up impossibly close to her. "Let me show you the American way we treat injuries." But she was hesitant and very cynical because she knew that tone and that dip in his voice, she'd watched him use it on hundreds of women. Just because she currently could not make her mind understand that he wasn't attractive did not mean that she was going to add her name to the list.

"I don't have any injuries to treat," she finally retorted, because she didn't know what else to say. For some reason her mouth wouldn't form the words behind some snide remark or cocky comeback even if she had it in her head and every time she tried she felt her lips start to form the sounds of okay which was not what she meant to say. Not at all.

Behind her, deliberately out of her range of vision, he chuckled. But it wasn't his usual cocky laugh or smirking little snort, this one was deep and low in his throat, taking on a heady tone towards the end. Why was he getting so close to her?!

"Then prove it." She absolutely did not have anything to prove-she didn't-but his challenge couldn't just go unanswered.

"Why?" Again that low, lust-filled chuckle. No, not lust. That couldn't possibly be right she meant… what did she mean?

"Because you think you can," he answered simply, like he was stating a fact. There was something so powerful in the way he said it, as if he knew she couldn't and knew she would fail, like he was humoring her. She didn't like it, but she didn't dislike it either.

"I can." He laughed again, this time directly in her ear and hot again her skin.

"Then prove it." He motioned for her to move and she did, fully intent on stretching and moving without letting him see the slightest bit of pain or discomfort. She had been through actual torture without breaking she could prove Tony wrong. And she was, moving and showing him exactly how little her body was suffering, until his hand closed around her wrist and made her freeze. Slowly, while she was distracted by the touch, he placed a hand against her ribs. And while she was caught up in the new way her pulse beat against his hand, he took his thumb and gently pressed into one of the bruises there. She hissed in pain before she realized it. He didn't smile or smirk because he'd won, though, and he didn't take his hand off of her torso even when she looked up into his face, startlingly close.

"See?" she whispered, unable to pull herself away from the very bad idea this was becoming. "I'm perfectly fine." But Tony looked down at her-down at her why was that having such an effect on her?-and tsked, shaking his head without smiling. He wasn't amused.

"Let me," he breathed against her cheek. "Let me show you." As much as her heart thudded in her chest at those words coming from his mouth, she managed to shake her head. But she wasn't moving away from him. Why wasn't she moving away from him? It wasn't like she couldn't. But she wasn't.

"No, I'm not going to fuck you." Surprisingly. Tony didn't flinch at the harsh language or the way her voice tinged with anger when she said it. Not jealousy, though, definitely not jealousy. He just shook his head ever so slightly so that she could feel the movement against her hair.

"No, I'm not trying to fuck you, Ziva. You would know if I was. Besides, you aren't like that and you know that." She wasn't like that. Wasn't fuckable in his eyes, wasn't the kind of girl he took home for the night, wasn't blonde enough or American enough or stupid enough. And he was right, she did know that.

"Then what are you trying to do?" He sighed. Her tone had become sharper than steel without her realizing it and she bit it back into her mouth with a frown. He didn't need to know how that affected her. Or even that it did.

"I'm trying to ease your pain," he sighed again at her clearly distrustful look. "Honest, Ziva. Let me help you. I promise I will remain fully clothed the entire time and you can too, though I recommend changing into a swimsuit or at least clothes you don't mind getting wet. I won't kiss you, or make a move on you, or even say anything if you don't want me to, promise. Just please let me." She hesitated. She shouldn't have hesitated, she should have said no and tore out of his grasp and put some distance between them, if not a physical barrier. But she hesitated, standing there feeling his skin against her wrist and his breath on her neck, thinking.

"You promise?" He didn't smile, keeping the tone serious.

"I promise. Just let me, Ziva," She paused again, feeling his mouth dip towards her neck. "Let me?" She was going to hate herself for this, she already knew. But Tony was very convincing especially when it was something her hormones desperately wanted, and besides they were both going to be fully clothed so what could really happen? She nodded.

"Okay." Beside her again, he let out a breath of relief and stepped away, guiding her towards the bathroom without a word or a gesture, just a pause of expectation. Once inside, he turned on the water and began filling the tub. She felt herself second guess the whole situation all over again.

"Relax," he said softly, almost with some real authority in his voice. "I'm not getting in with you or anything. If you want to change you should do it now." She glared at the back of his head though she didn't quite understand why. Maybe because he sounded annoyed that she was still anxious or maybe because his command to relax actually made her take a breath. But definitely not because she'd been hoping he would get in with her.

Just to spite him, she stayed in the room. Watched as he swirled the hot water and mixed in a little bit of oil. She wants to day it was obviously counter productive but she made herself stay quiet and just stripped down to her sports bra and her underwear. They were boy shorts not a thing or anything so she didn't feel the need to cover them with more shorts. She did not miss the way Tony's breath caught when he looked back at her, though. Honestly she expected a comment or at least some kind of ogling but he just turned back to the tub and shut the water off, swirling the oil in.

"You can get in now." She watched him for some kind of clue to where this was going. But she did get in. Slowly, she settled into the way and almost sighed at how good the heat felt on her aching muscles but stopped herself at the last second. He wasn't supposed to think she was enjoying this.

Instead, he just watched her until she laid back in the water and looked at him expectantly for some kind of direction as to what she was supposed to be doing. Slowly, he kneeled beside the tub and rolled up his sleeves. When he reached into the water and touched her shin, she couldn't help flinching away. Enough to splash him apparently. He didn't yell or frown at her, though, he just wiped the water from his face and pressed his palm flat against her calf.

"Please relax, I'm not trying to have sex with you or anything and I'm not going to hurt you." He sounded so… tired. Like the weight of the world was suddenly on his shoulders; like he was drowning in how little she trusted him. Carefully, she made herself relax her leg. She watched his hand like a hawk, even though it was very bright in the room and there was no way he could have faked an accidental brush towards her crotch without it being obvious. He didn't sigh, though, he just began to gently massage her leg.

Damn it felt good. The oil from the water was just enough to keep their skin from rubbing too hard together and every time he pressed his thumbs into her muscles it sent tingling jolts up her leg. Where had he learned to do this? She didn't let herself close her eyes or make a sound but the rest of her body relaxed unconsciously because he was just that damn good at it.

He moved gradually up her leg over her knee but never touched even half a centimeter past where the cloth of her underwear covered, even if she shifted a bit to try to get him to. As he worked up the back of her thigh, though, towards her ass, she couldn't help letting out a little sigh. It wasn't a moan or a word but he caught it, repeating the action. Until it was a moan.

She bit her lip as quickly as possible but there was no way he missed it-though he didn't smirk or change his demeanor like he'd won. Hadn't he won, though? He chased tremors down her legs until her breath came in short little gasps. He took her hands in his and massaged the ache out of them until she let her head fall back against the tub and closed her eyes. She never thought she would love feeling his hands holding hers so much.

When he turned her in the tub to reach her shoulders, it didn't take more than a second of his hands gently guiding her shoulders for her to fall back into that relaxed position. Her head dropped back against his stomach easily, like it was normal. He dug his thumbs into the muscle of her shoulders, pressing and sliding down along the line of her shoulder blades, until she had to arch off the plastic so he could reach. Fuck she was in so over her head. She could feel herself slipping into that mindset where she didn't have to think or question or analyze her surroundings, where she could just breathe. After a few minutes, she dragged her body forward so he could reach her lower back and then her waistline, where every touch tingled like electricity and went straight to her gut. She shuddered as he pressed lower, nearing the edge of her shorts.

But then he was done. She realized with a bit of a shock that he'd run out of muscles to massage that weren't covered by the material of her clothes but she didn't want him to be done. He didn't hand around, either, drying off his hands and stepping away like she'd told him to go. When he moved to leave, though, she surprised herself by whining. She didn't even turn around, but felt him pause at the door.

"Ziva, I'm not going to break my promise." His voice was low and breathy in a way she didn't recognize. But, after a second, she realized he wasn't just leaving because he was done massaging her he was leaving because he was struggling to keep himself under control. She was so fucked.

"Tony," He sighed. "Please come back here."

"I'm not going to break my promise."

"I'm not going to ask you to." That, it seemed, was enough for him to ease his anxiety with himself and he took his hand off the door, stepping back into the room. After a beat of silence, he returned to sit beside the tub. But he didn't touch her. Slowly, she sat up in the tub and turned to face him. It had gotten rather dark in the bathroom, she realized, and it must have been getting dark outside but they hadn't turned the light on. Shadows clung to the edges of his face but he just looked at her, his usual cockiness gone.

"Tony," she tried again. "Come here." She took his hands in her own and pulled him closer until the tub was the only thing between them, still holding his hands. Had his eyes always been that kind of swirling, greenish amber?

"Tony, you promised not to fuck me-"

"I promised not to kiss you, too." Right, that too. Now, more than ever, she wished she hadn't made him promise all of that.

"I'm not going to make you break that promise, okay? You promised not to kiss me." He nodded, his face too serious for the situation. Why did he look so torn up, so unhappy? She wanted to rub her thumb under each of those gorgeous eyes and wipe away the bags there that screamed of nightmares. She knew he had nightmares, but she didn't like it. Hated it, actually. But she'd never felt like she had the right to get up and comfort him whenever she heard his breathing change.

"I didn't promise not to kiss you, however." With their faces less than an inch apart, he could have easily pulled away. She gave him a second to process what she said and move away or say no but he just sat there, like he couldn't move forward but didn't want to move back. So, slowly, she leaned in and connected their lips.

Tony's lips were much softer than she'd expected, and gentle. Somehow, through all his womanizing and countless one night stands, she'd imagined that he would be rough-a taker, ravaging her. But he was absurdly gentle, barely ghosting his tongue along her bottom lip. It wasn't a request, he wasn't kissing her, but it was a suggestion enough that she took the hint and pressed at his lips for permission. He let her slip into his mouth almost instantly, sighing when she did.

He didn't kiss her. He reciprocated, mimicking whatever she did, whatever she gave him, but he didn't take or suggest anything else. She wished he would, but she understood. And some part of that made her respect him a little more, made her more comfortable with this. Because he wasn't just taking, wasn't hunting her down like he did those other women. This was him letting her take the lead. Letting her take it as far as she wanted with no expectation, no making her do anything she didn't want to do, no taking. Just giving.

When she broke away, she felt him hesitate and it made her irrationally happy that he didn't want it to end. She didn't let him go far, though, pressing their foreheads together. Slowly, she just made herself breathe and listened to him do the same, like they both needed a second to recover from that.

"Tony-"

"I'm sorry, Ziva, I shouldn't even-"

"Tony!" She made him stop, locking their eyes. "Don't apologize. I kissed you, you didn't break your promise. I kissed you." She was sure that, after tonight, he would never let her live that down. But, for now, it had a certain weight behind it. She had made the choice, not him. She had been the one to reach out, to ask him to stay, to make the first move-not him. This was something she wanted, not something she was tolerating or doing because she had to. And fuck she wanted.

"I'm not going to fuck you, no technicalities," he stated, firm but resigned. "I won't."

"Okay, just tell me why?" She understood that he wasn't going to change his mind and she wasn't going to push him, especially after how considerate he'd just been about her limits, but she wanted to understand. It wasn't like him to refuse sex, or even any kind of female attention. But he sighed, chewing his lower lip in thought.

"Because, if I do? That's all this is going to be for you. I saw the way you looked at me when I suggested the bathtub and I know what you think of me. But that's not what this, and that's not what I want this to be. So even if I want to-and I do-I'm not going to. We aren't going to. That isn't what this is to me. That isn't what you are to me, I need you to understand that." Ziva felt like she'd just had the wind knocked out of her. She shivered, not because of the wet cloth clinging to her skin or the chill in the air, but because those words hit deep in her chest. Quickly, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Okay." It was a whisper, barely, but there was so much emotion in her voice that she almost hoped he couldn't hear it. But he was less than an inch away from her, so of course he heard it. He slid one of his hands free of hers, lifting it to her face. Gently, he cupped her cheek. And raised her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye-even if it was dark, and even if she was still shaking just a little.

"Hey, don't be upset. I'm not rejecting you, I'm not saying that I don't want you. I mean, damn Ziva! I've been dreaming about kissing you since we met. I do want you. But I want you to know that this isn't just sex or a hookup. That isn't what I want, not with you." She swallowed hard again, feeling tears rising up behind her eyes against her will. Who the hell was this Tony? Where had the normal, womanizing Tony gone?

"Are you saying you want…?"

"A relationship? Yeah, if you're okay with that, I mean." She had to bit her lip to keep from smiling or crying. It took her a second, but she nodded and pulled away enough to step out of the tub and wrap a towel around her torso, ignoring the dripping from her clothes.

"I'm going to change. But, um, can we… Can we just…?" He stood too, once again looking down at her. It wasn't condescending anymore, though, and it wasn't hot-okay, it was still a little hot-but it was really sweet. Like he was bigger, stronger, her protector.

"Can we what?" Ugh, she hated the way anxiety pooled in her stomach like acid. Why was she so afraid, suddenly? It wasn't like she was uncomfortable with Tony before and, after all, she was the one who had kissed him, but…

"Abrazar?" Somehow, saying it in Spanish made her braver. Because there was a chance he wouldn't understand her, there was a chance that she could escape and shrug it off. But he had been a New York cop, and his smile said he understood.

"Yes, we can cuddle. Don't be anxious, okay מותק?" Her jaw dropped.

"Where did you learn that? Why did you learn that?" He smiled, a hint of his typical smirk back in place but without the arrogance. How the hell had he learned how to call her sweetheart in Hebrew?

"A friend deployed in Israel. I asked him to teach me when you got assigned to our team." The breath slipped out of her like someone was stealing it. A friend in Israel? When she got assigned to the team?

"Tony… that was over three years ago." He just smiled. Slowly, he stepped up and cupped her cheek again like she was the most precious thing to him. It made her chest light.

"Don't be anxious, מותק. Now, go get changed, okay? She was shaking, only partially because she was cold. Was this actually happening to her right now? With him? With a little nudge, she stepped into the bedroom and began to change but she could barely stand up straight. He'd learned how to say sweetheart in Hebrew three years ago. When she was very first assigned to their team. He had gone and made someone teach him, just so he could do this with her. Call her sweetheart in her first language. She wanted to cry.

When he knocked, she didn't jump because she was so wrapped up in her thoughts but she mumbled a come in before he could knock again. Slowly, he entered with a small smile on his face.

"Hey, you doing okay?" She nodded, but that was a blatant lie. She was very clearly reeling and trying not to panic but struggling to even understand what the hell was going on and- Oh. He'd stepped up to close the distance between them and drawn her into a hug. Abby hugged her. McGee hugged her. Ducky hugged her. Even Gibbs had hugged her that one time. But Tony had never hugged her before. And she was beginning to understand why.

Something about his heartbeat against her cheek or the strength in his arms when he held her, like he was trying to shield her from the world, made her knees weak. It was silent and he didn't say a word but he didn't have to. The way he held her screamed of affection and concern and protectiveness deeper than she ever would have guessed. She would have been lying if she said she didn't love it.

"I'm okay," she finally managed, half mumbled into his shirt. "Can we lay down?" With a small smile, he let go and led them over to the bed. The previous two weeks of the op, they'd slept as far apart as possible on the queen sized bed just to avoid touching. But now Tony lay in the middle. And he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in until she fit perfectly into the crook of his arm with her head on his chest. She did fit perfectly, she realized, like he was very good at positioning them. Or like they were made to fit together.

But she shook her head as she felt Tony's heartbeat slow and relax towards the edge of sleep. It was easier not to think. To let Tony's voice ring through her head, repeating מותק over and over again until it was like a lullaby. She ignored how their bodies fit, like they were made for each other. She ignored the way his heartbeat thrummed against her cheek and calmed her own like they were trying to be in sync. She ignored the way that relaxing in his arms felt like coming home. But, most of all, she ignored the urge to open her mouth and whisper exactly what she was thinking: that she was very quickly falling in love with the man holding her to his chest. She wasn't in love with him, she couldn't be. She didn't do love-she didn't know how to have a relationship or to love someone-it wasn't who she was. She didn't love him. But maybe… Maybe she could one day.

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