riskinghearts

“When did I know? Hell, I don’t even think I can remember. I mean, we had this mission once… in Paris. Now I know what you’re thinking: I’m a DiNozzo. You stick me in a tux in the city o’ love and I can Casanova my way right through ‘til breakfast. But, y'know, I’m tired 'cause it’s been a long day of chasing bad guys and your Grandpa Gibbs, well, he’s on the other end of the phone telling me to wrap things up because as of tomorrow, we’ve got a new assignment escorting some witness back to the States and it’s really all I can do to just get through one more night of - well let’s just say we were gathering intel on some people… the kind of people who would probably have preferred guns to words had they ever discovered us. Fortunately, as you know, I am a very special agent. So, it’s our last night in Paris and I’m walking through the reception hall at this high class event, all of these dignitaries waltzing around, sipping champagne and side-eyeing each other’s diamonds - and y'know I’m looking out for my partner 'cause she’s here, somewhere, but the last time I saw her was around four that morning when we were running around some dingy alleyway in the dark following a lead. An’ y'know, her hair’s slicked back and she’s got her ninja-face all set and she’s just… y'know… her.

But now I’m walking through that reception and I glance across the room and… I see her… but she doesn’t see me… but oh man, was I in trouble. Her hair is down around her shoulders and she’s wearing this gown - the kind of gown that, for any man, makes it hard to turn away. And she’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’m staring - she’s glancing over her shoulder - at what, I don’t even care - and in that moment I’m just grateful she’s looking away. Eventually, I find my feet and I’m by her side and she arches an eye-brow because I’m still a little tongue-tied and she’s trying to figure out whether or not I’m mocking her. I have to say something but I’m very aware that HQ only sprung for one hotel room this trip and I don’t think there’s anything I can say without sticking my foot in my mouth and I know I still have to find a way to convince her that it’s her night to take the couch - without losing a finger. So instead, I end up taking her by the hand and all of a sudden I’m leading her around this dance floor - or she’s leading me, I don’t know. She looks up at me and… there are so many things I wanted to say… it was just me and her and there were so many things I could have said. Probably should have said, then. But she looks at me and smiles a little and it’s like she knows. She puts her head on my shoulder as if to say "we don’t have to talk about it now, Tony, we can talk about it later” and so we just carry on dancing. Like we’d always done.

This could be my favourite Tony&Ziva scene. I mean.. look at them.

Tony DiNozzo + Shoulder Holster

Too, many, commas,,, 

Is this ooc?? 

I used that word already 

Do people even blush this much?? 

*squints* Is that canon?

Tropes

 *cries while writing death scene* 

Wait what happened last chapter? 

I wrote like a thousan- 354 words!? 

*googles the lifespan of a tropical fish* 

have I spelt his name wrong all this time? 

Would they say that tho? 

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