Title: Shave
Disclaimers: NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this.
A/N: English is not my native language. So please forgive me my grammar and spelling mistakes.
Spoilers:everything
Pairing: McGee/Ziva [McGiva]
A/N2: This is for Izzy (dizzy-in-the-izzy on here), with whom I had a conversation in tumblr about wanting to see Sean shirtless, chests in general and that he either shaves or doesn't have any chest hair (compared to Michael Weatherly, who has a lot). She's a lovely person and the reason (besides a thorough character analysis) that convinced me that Mcgiva makes just as much, if not more sense than Tiva does.

She catches him scratching his chest a couple of times over the day. But it's only when they are in evidence lockup that he gives a frustrated groan that she feels compelled to ask.

"Are you alright, McGee?" she asks him, looking up from the box she is going through. He sighs and shakes his head.

"Yeah. No. This itches!" he vents, slipping his hand into his shirt and scratching in earnest. The movement jostles his left shoulder and she hears him draw a sharp breath, clenching his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of pain. She wishes she could strangle Tony, because it is entirely his fault Tim wasn't covered properly and took a bullet. But as it is, she has to work with him, and she has a sneaking suspicion that if she harms DiNozzo, Gibbs will have her six, because that is his right as team leader. And really, Tony had been nice to Tim for two days before he started teasing him again. Which was yesterday.

She gets up and walks over to him, squeezing his uninjured arm.

"When did you take your pain meds?" she asks him gently and he rolls his eyes at her.

"I have an hour left until the next round… Mom." he teases and she sticks out her tongue briefly before breaking into a smile.

"Want me to scratch you?" she offers, causing him to lift an eyebrow. His hand re-emerges from his shirt and he holds it up in a gesture of surrender. Barely resisting the urge to bite her lip, she slips her hand under his shirt, staring into his eyes as she racks her nails over her chest. Tim closes his eyes and sighs, his head resting against the shelf behind him.

"Oh yeah, don't stop." he mutters, his hand resting on her hip. Her eyes snap to it and a strange shiver runs down her spine when she realizes just how close they are and where her hand is. His skin feels burning hot against her hand all of a sudden and she pulls away, causing him to snap open his eyes in disappointment. "Thanks." he mutters, clearing his throat, and she nods, returning to her work silently, not trusting her voice not to shake.

The satisfaction he got lasts all of thirty minutes. On the elevator ride up, he hits his chest with his right hand repeatedly, scrunching up his face and she has to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing.

"Why don't you ask Abby if she helps you shave?" she suggests, following him to the break room where he gets a can of cooled coke and holds it against his shirt. She pours herself some coffee and leans against the counter with her hip, watching the relief on his face and flashing to seeing him above her, naked, with the same look. She quickly shakes her head and is glad when he keeps his eyes closed, because she can feel herself blushing. What is wrong with her?

"Thanks, but I rather not." he gives a dry laugh, moving to sit down and wincing again. She cocks her head to the side and he sighs. "She's mad at me. She asked me to do her a favor and go on a double date with her and I said no." he explains, and Ziva swallows thickly. Yes, he said no, but the notion of him dating anybody else, however remote it may be… Geez, what has gotten into her all of a sudden?

"I thought you… liked… Abby." she tells him, hoping for nonchalant, but her voice betrays her by coming out higher than usual. He doesn't seem to catch it, though.

"I did. But she didn't want me. And she had a date, she needed someone to go with her weird friend because her date cancelled, and when she couldn't find anyone, she asked me. I'm tired of being the last resort." he mutters, toying with the can and refusing to look at her.

"I can understand that." she softly says, and when he looks at her doubtfully, she grants him a small smile. "I think you work better as friends." Ziva shrugs, and to her surprise, Tim nods.

"Yeah, I got to the same conclusion. It's just… being friends means that you help each other out. It feels like I'm always the one helping, at least when she needs something, and when she doesn't, she ignores me." he sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drag you down."

The sudden urge to walk over to him and run her hands through his hair is almost overwhelming. She quickly turns and pours the remainder of her coffee down the drain to get a grip on her raging hormones. Because that's what they are, hormones. It's been a while, and he's pretty good-looking, so that's why she's suddenly getting these feelings of wanting to touch him. Though, what leaves her mouth next may be an indication for traumatic brain injury.

"I could help you." she offers, her eyes widening when she realizes what she just said. But the look of disbelief and hope on Tim's face makes it unable for her to take the offer back.

"Really?" he wonders, his voice taking a hopeful tone, and she groans inwardly.

"Sure. If you want me to, I'll come home with you tonight." she shrugs, and he stands up, walking over to her and giving her an awkward, one-armed hug.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver." he tells her before leaving her standing dumbfounded in the break room as he skips back to the bullpen. Oh boy, what did she get herself into, now?

His new apartment is bigger than the previous one. The upside of selling a few books, she supposes. As soon as they got there, Tim disappeared into the bathroom while she went to the kitchen to find them something to drink and something for him to wash his next round of painkillers down with.

When she turns around from the counter, she lets go of the water bottle in her hand at the sight in front of her. Timothy McGee is standing in his kitchen, wearing jeans and nothing else, a towel and shaving supplies in his hands.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you." he apologizes as she bends down to pick up the bottle which was thankfully still closed. She takes a second to get a grip again and gives him an enthusiastic smile.

"Don't worry, I just didn't hear you."

A glance down explains why, he took off his shoes and is walking around in socks.

"Wanna do it here?" she asks him, and he nods, accepting the bottle and his painkillers and taking them quickly.

"Yeah, bigger than the bathroom. Could you, maybe, there's a plastic bowl under the sink." he asks her and she bends down to retrieve it and fill it with lukewarm water as he places down the towel, washcloth, razor and shaving cream on the kitchen table. He took of his sling once they got home and is fingering the bandage on his shoulder.

"I'll look at that afterwards, there is no point in re-dressing it when the dressing could get soaked." she tells him, taking off her long shirt to reveal a tank top underneath. Tim sits down in the chair and watches as she dips the washcloth into the water and then gently runs it over his skin as not to aggravate it further. She can feel his eyes on her hands as she places the washcloth down and pours a small amount of cream into her hands before rubbing it over his skin. She can feel the muscle move under her hands and bites her cheek to not run her nails over it lightly again. She knew he had lost weight and was working out, but damn, she would have never guessed that it would make that much of a difference. When she saw him shirtless years ago, she would have never thought that he could have abs one day.

Tim inhales deeply and she pulls herself from her musings. Grabbing the razor, she wills her hand to stop shaking with nerves. She's just a friend, helping out a friend. If he were Gibbs, she would be doing the same. But he isn't Gibbs, a small voice in her head reminds her as she touches the razor to his skin and starts working in silence. It takes her a few strokes until she gets the hang of it, because this is vastly different from shaving her legs, and she really doesn't want to cut him. If she does, she'll never live it down. After the last stroke, she drops the razor in the bowl and uses the washcloth to clean his skin. She suddenly becomes aware of him staring at her face and not at her hands and feels herself blushing again.

"There, all smooth now." she tells him, moving to get up from the chair she pulled in front of him, but his hand on her thigh makes her stop and she looks into his eyes, swallowing hard. How come she never realized how green his eyes were? They're almost like a summer meadow, soft and endless… He blinks and draws his hand back and she quickly grabs the bowl and retreats to the bathroom to rinse it and get the first aid supplies. When she returns, he has already peeled the old bandage away halfway and she can see the stitches that keep his skin together. She winces and walks over to him, slapping his hand away and peeling off the rest of the bandage. When she starts dapping the salve onto his skin, he closes his eyes and hisses in pain, his hand griping her thigh hard. She's standing between his legs now and leans in, wiping her hand once she is done with the salve and running it through his hair soothingly before she starts redressing the injury. As she presses the adhesive to his skin, the grip on her thigh tightens and he buries his face in her stomach, drawing shuddering breaths. Her hands go to his head on their own accord, stroking his hair and massaging his scalp as a distraction from the pain. She can feel his hot breath through the thin material of her top and even the wetness of his tears. Still he doesn't make a sound except for his heavy breathing, and she admires him for it. The first time she took a bullet, she was screaming in pain when someone redressed her wound. Then again, that may have been because it had been Hadar and the man hadn't been too gentle, but she doesn't like to dwell on that.

His iron grip slowly eases up and Tim leans back, his head hitting the wall, his eyes still closed. She can see the tear tracks on his cheeks and leans in to wipe them away with the pad of her thumb. He opens his eyes, pain clouding the green orbs.

"Sorry." he whispers, his voice hoarse. She just shakes her head and cradles his cheek gently.

"It's okay, I don't mind." she assures him. They continue to stare into each other's eyes until she becomes aware of her hand still resting on his cheek. Before she can withdraw it, his hand comes up, covering hers and brushing over her skin with his thumb. The light touch sends shivers down her spine again and she stares at their hands as he turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to her wrist. She closes her eyes and shudders against him. His hand lets go and finds the way to the waistband of her jeans. He loops his fingers through a belt loop and gently tugs her even closer, and she can't help but lean downward as he turns his head to look up at her.

The second their lips meet, fireworks start going off behind her eyelids, and when his tongue brushes over hers, she moans into his mouth. Her hands are busy twisting in his hair until she reaches down and brushes against his shoulder by accident, making him break the kiss and snapping them back to the reality of what they are doing. She quickly steps back and grabs the first aid supplies, fleeing from the room. She clothes the bathroom door behind her and locks it, leaning against the wood and trying to catch her breath, her mind reeling.

She doesn't do this. She doesn't randomly kiss people. Yes, she is no virgin, not by far, and yes, she has had one-night stands and affairs. But never, never with a friend. There is too much at stake, too big of a possibility to ruin everything if you start something with them, of losing them forever because one can't deal with things. And he is McGee. He is Tim, reliable, safe Tim. Her best friend, probably, the one that always supported her, the one that showed her around when she first came here, the one she took apartment hunting. The one she can talk to about books for hours, who corrects her English without making a huge act out of it. He's only her colleague, only the guy-

She draws a shuddering breath and presses her eyes shut.

He's only the guy she's fallen in love with.

Not like with Tony when the attraction was immediate. They got over whatever that was and became partners that love to tease each other, but there will never be more than teasing. No, McGee crept up on her slowly, through weekends at the park and at museums, at the movies watching foreign films or at book signings. He has always been there, as a friend, but now she realizes that she has been feeling more than friendship for him for some time. And she's not able to put her finger on when it started, really, but she remembers the relief she felt in Somalia when he answered her question if he was alright, the relief to know he was alive and Saleem hadn't killed him. Coming to think of it, that may have been the first time she felt her feelings for him go deeper than friendship. And the weeks after her return, how he never left her alone with anyone that wasn't a member of the team. How he hovered behind her at crime scenes, having her back, literally. How he picked her up one night after she had gone driving after a particularly nasty psychiatric session with her shrink and her car broke down in the pouring rain. How he had let her cry into his shoulder, gotten her fresh clothes and let her crash on his couch so she wouldn't have to be alone that night. How he never mentioned her nightmares but kept his light on when she was over after that night.

She wipes at the tear running down her cheek angrily. This means nothing. He didn't mean it, he was just expressing his thanks, and that's okay. She'll deal with this, just like she always has. She'll tell him she has to leave now, take tomorrow off work and then return and treat him like nothing changed. She shouldn't have to take tomorrow off, but if she doesn't, she won't have enough time to get a grip on her emotions, and she really needs to stop feeling these… things for him, before they get out of control again.

She puts away the first aid stuff and looks into the mirror, checking her reflection before she leaves the bathroom. Tim is in the living room, wearing a zipper jacket and she can see he hasn't bothered to put on something under it. She opens her mouth to say something, but her throat closes up and she ends up making some weird and pathetic sound that has him look up and give her a sheepish grin.

"So, I put everything away again." she tells him, suddenly self-conscious. What the hell is she supposed with her hands? She puts them in the back pockets of her jeans but that makes her stand awkwardly and-

"Thanks, Ziva. Really, I appreciate it. And I'm sorry, about the kiss I mean. I didn't…" he starts, stopping and swallowing. She shakes her head and makes a throwaway motion with her hand.

"It's alright. I know, you still like Abby." she assures him, ignoring how his eyes widen. "Well, I think I better-"

"I don't like Abby." he interrupts her, frowning, and she stops halfway to the kitchen, on her way to retrieve her shirt. She has her back turned to him and sighs deeply.

"Sure. Whatever. Anyways, I better leave now." she tells him, getting her shirt and pulling it on. She has her head out just in time to avoid bumping into him where he suddenly stands in the doorway. She stares up at him, confused, and frowns at the look of rejection in his eyes.

"If I liked Abby, I wouldn't have kissed you." he mumbles, staring at the floor. She doesn't know what to say to that but then she feels his finger brush against her hand lightly and looks down in time to see him carefully take her hand, still too afraid to look at her just yet. "I like you."

"Oh." she breathes, suddenly feeling lightheaded and not able to determine whether it's from his touch or a sudden lack of oxygen in the room. His fingers brush hers and she turns her hand, intertwining them carefully. When she looks up at him, he gives her an uncertain grin, wavering as he swallows once, twice, and she bites her lip at how adorable he can be.

"Say something?" he whispers softly, fear and uncertainty in his green eyes. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. So she just squeezes his hand and leans into him, hiding her face in his chest. He lets go of her hand and for a second, she's afraid that her non-verbal answer wasn't enough, but then she feels him wrap his good arm around her, pulling her in even further and she relaxes against him.

"I like you to, Tim." she whispers softly.

THE END

review? and with that, I hereby declare that pretty much all of my coming fic will probably be McGiva. I still somewhat ship Tony/Ziva, but the easy friendship between McGee and Ziva has captivated me, and I don't want to let go of it.