Summary: The first time they kiss, it isn’t over a romantic candle-lit dinner, or on the beach, or at a fancy restaurant. It isn’t after the adrenaline drop of chasing a suspect down, nor is it seeking comfort in each other’s arms after an emotional case.

But it is perfect.
Rated: FR15
Categories: Het
Genre: Romance
Warnings: None
Challenges: First Kiss, Last Kiss Challenge, Teeny Tiny Challenge for Concision Storytelling!
Challenges: First Kiss, Last Kiss Challenge, Teeny Tiny Challenge for Concision Storytelling!
Series: None
Story Notes
Title taken from the Vance Joy song with the same name.
The first time they kiss, it isn’t over a romantic candle-lit dinner, or on the beach, or at a fancy restaurant. It isn’t after the adrenaline drop of chasing a suspect down, nor is it seeking comfort in each other’s arms after an emotional case.

It starts with the two of them, standing under an awning outside of headquarters, watching the rain fall in heavy drops.

“I didn’t park in the ramp this morning,” Tim sighs. He looks at Ziva apologetically. “Sorry.”

“It is just water,” she says with a shrug. “I could always take the Metro.”

Tim furrows his brows in confusion. “Rain doesn’t prevent me from giving you a ride home, Ziva.” He hoists his laptop bag higher on his shoulder. “Shall we make a run for it?”

“A run for it?”

“You know,” Tim gestures vaguely out in front of them. “Run for the car?”

At Ziva’s nod, the two agents dash away from the protection of the building. He thinks the pair of them must look ridiculous with their heads down, sprinting down the sidewalk and leaping across overflowing drains. He turns his head to tell Ziva as much when he nearly stumbles at what he sees. Her hair is plastered across her face, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the streetlamps, and she is smiling more broad and open than he can ever recall seeing before.

She must sense his eyes on her and she turns her gaze to him, shaking her head as if she has no explanation to his unvoiced question about why she’s enjoying herself so much.

They finally arrive at Tim’s car, and he comes to an abrupt halt when he sees that some idiot has parked so close to him that there is no way he’ll be able to get his door open.

“Passenger side!” Ziva yells, so he runs over to that side of the car, yanks open the door, and climbs in. He doesn’t have time to scooch over before Ziva’s climbing in after him (on top of him), leaning out to snag the handle and yanking the door shut.

For a moment, their harsh breathing drowns out the sound of the rain pounding against the roof and windows.

Tim doesn’t dare move, even if Ziva’s knee is digging into his thigh and his face is uncomfortably close to her chest. She smells like laundry detergent and chai tea and something distinctly Ziva that his breath hitches at how her proximity is influencing him. If Ziva’s knee moves north even just a fraction, Tim is mortified to realize, she too will find out what effect she is having on him.

Ziva shifts, the seat bouncing with their combined weight as her hands come to rest just over each of his shoulders. Their eyes meet.

“Well, that was not so bad,” she says with a light laugh.

“No,” Tim croaks out before clearing his throat. “Uh, no. It wasn’t.”

Ziva is looking at him with such intensity, Tim blushes. (Honestly, he’s surprised he has the ability to blush, considering most of his blood has been routed elsewhere…) Her smile is soft and too-knowing and Tim fights not to fidget under her scrutiny.

He doesn’t know if it’s the rain, the way the windows are beginning to fog up, or the way Ziva looks under the faint dome light of his car… but he’s hit with the most intense need to kiss her that he’s pretty sure his brain shorts out any other possibilities except that singular desire.

Tim knows he’s given himself away because Ziva’s eyes widen just a fraction and he watches in awe as her gaze drops to his lips.

“This is not wise,” she says softly.

“Probably not,” Tim agrees, because there are too many ways this could end badly.

Rule number twelve is just one reason why he should be gently dislodging Ziva from his lap and moving to the driver’s seat… not lifting a hand to the nape of her neck, gently tangling his fingers within her damp hair.

He thinks about Tony finding out, and the thought of hurting his friend should make him pull away from Ziva’s hand gently stroking his cheek, but he leans into its warmth instead.

Tim knows they are wrong for each other… Ziva is fire and life, he nothing more than steadfast in his averageness. But his insecurities fade away when she leans forward and they are breathing the same air, their mouths inches apart.

“Kiss me, McGee.”

He obeys immediately.

The kiss is slow and tender and Tim is terrified for the first few seconds until he’s drowning in her taste, her scent, the softness of her lips. He moans and he’s embarrassed until it seems to encourage Ziva and the kiss morphs into something more.

Time passes not in minutes, but in nips along swollen lips and fingers brushing along rain-soaked skin. Eventually Ziva pulls back, her eyes staring at his lips and her fingers rubbing small circles on his abdomen under his shirt.

“Take me home, McGee.”

Tim tries not to show his disappointment, but of course Ziva notices, and before he can figure out a way to slide into the driver’s seat without injuring himself on the stick shift, Ziva’s hands are cupping his face.

“I would like for you to come inside when we get there. If that is ok with you?”

Tim knows they should talk about what they’re doing and the potential consequences of these actions, but right now, in the humid, cramped space of his car and Ziva looking more beautiful than ever, he can do nothing but agree.

“More than ok.”

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