This brief one-shot was written for four hands as a birthday gift for ligths .
Title: Profile of woman
Authors: Robin & Joy
Genre: Romantic
Rating: for all
Spoilers: 7x13 - Jetlag
Characters: Tony / Ziva
N. words: 509
Woman's profile
Robin & Joy
A Light ... Happy Birthday
Robin & Joy
A Light ... Happy Birthday
He had seen her in many ways over the years. It could be cold and determined on a mission, irritating, cynical, morose in everyday life, but Tony had learned to recognize the concern behind the apparent arrogance, and anger and detachment as a defense only had to show not fragile.
look back photography. A stolen moment in time. A young woman, her hair down slightly moved by the wind, in the act of choosing a card, face turned to one side as if something had suddenly caught his attention. He had never seen her like this, just a woman. Once again he wondered what kind of person would become if it had been allowed to live a childhood worthy of the name, if it had been grown as a person and not to become a killing machine ... if I were running in her mind overlapping, to no avail. Without those if was not the woman she was.
Ziva was almost always practical and rational, difficult to distract from his goal, so different from all other women he had known from be his entry into the skin without realizing the fact. Yet there was a fire in those dark eyes that begged to emerge, even when the rest of her trying to deny it. He smiled, stroking the tip with the photos and remembering the feeling of the warm skin beneath his fingers when the discussion about who would sleep on the couch had become burning passion that they had been caught by surprise, taking away their inhibitions.
They were found together without knowing how hungry both a desire for too long sedated. Almost pain. Almost liberation. Guided only by instinct. Eager to touch the fire and consumed and lost. It happened so fast to leave them stunned. Two bodies sweaty and panting between sheets wrinkled, expressions of surprise and vulnerable, while they hovered between something much more dangerous than passion. Tenderness. A lock of hair moved gently from her face, fingers touching her lips wet and smiling. A light kiss on his temple throbbed still unstable. Being without words but with many words to say. Prefer silence punctuated by sighs. Take the time who were not granted. Tasting the salty sweet taste of their skin. Exploring other's bodies with gentle caresses. With the sole desire to know each other and to let us know.
shook his head trying to temporarily put aside the memories of their first time together. He lingered for hours in those fantasies, but it was already late and was in a hurry to go. He put the photo in its proper place, in the inside pocket of his jacket, at heart. Got out and walked briskly toward the palace. He climbed the stairs, almost running, two at a time, slowing down only to cross the landing. He breathed slowly a few times, was about to knock when the door was opened.
Ziva smiled at him from inside the apartment in the shade.
"You're late," chided him gently, holding out her hand.
In response, the Tony drew her hugging and kissing her with transportation, and kicked the door closed behind them.
look back photography. A stolen moment in time. A young woman, her hair down slightly moved by the wind, in the act of choosing a card, face turned to one side as if something had suddenly caught his attention. He had never seen her like this, just a woman. Once again he wondered what kind of person would become if it had been allowed to live a childhood worthy of the name, if it had been grown as a person and not to become a killing machine ... if I were running in her mind overlapping, to no avail. Without those if was not the woman she was.
Ziva was almost always practical and rational, difficult to distract from his goal, so different from all other women he had known from be his entry into the skin without realizing the fact. Yet there was a fire in those dark eyes that begged to emerge, even when the rest of her trying to deny it. He smiled, stroking the tip with the photos and remembering the feeling of the warm skin beneath his fingers when the discussion about who would sleep on the couch had become burning passion that they had been caught by surprise, taking away their inhibitions.
They were found together without knowing how hungry both a desire for too long sedated. Almost pain. Almost liberation. Guided only by instinct. Eager to touch the fire and consumed and lost. It happened so fast to leave them stunned. Two bodies sweaty and panting between sheets wrinkled, expressions of surprise and vulnerable, while they hovered between something much more dangerous than passion. Tenderness. A lock of hair moved gently from her face, fingers touching her lips wet and smiling. A light kiss on his temple throbbed still unstable. Being without words but with many words to say. Prefer silence punctuated by sighs. Take the time who were not granted. Tasting the salty sweet taste of their skin. Exploring other's bodies with gentle caresses. With the sole desire to know each other and to let us know.
shook his head trying to temporarily put aside the memories of their first time together. He lingered for hours in those fantasies, but it was already late and was in a hurry to go. He put the photo in its proper place, in the inside pocket of his jacket, at heart. Got out and walked briskly toward the palace. He climbed the stairs, almost running, two at a time, slowing down only to cross the landing. He breathed slowly a few times, was about to knock when the door was opened.
Ziva smiled at him from inside the apartment in the shade.
"You're late," chided him gently, holding out her hand.
In response, the Tony drew her hugging and kissing her with transportation, and kicked the door closed behind them.
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