maria hill ain’t got time for your bullshit hydra
written by queencotes
When she finally gathers the courage to press the call button, she’s surprised at herself. The dial tone almost makes her jump, and she only just gets the phone to her ear before hearing the familiar click of connection.
“DiNozzo.” he says, cheerily, and his voice makes her breath catch. He sounds the same as ever, just her usual Tony, and she doesn’t know if she’s ever missed him more than now.
She hears his breath hitch as he pauses, and she shuffles awkwardly where she sits, wishing rather desperately she was right in front of him right now and not hundreds of miles away talking down a shaky connection.
He sounds slightly stunned.
“Are… How are you?”
She swallows slowly, the awkward air between them rising, stifling.
“I’m okay. It’s, uh, nice to hear your voice.” he says, and she can hear the smile behind his words.
“It’s nice to hear your voice, too.” she replies quietly, a grin inching its way across her own lips despite herself, only to fall again as she attempts to explain the reason she called. “I wanted to ask you something.”
He murmurs an okay, and she speaks hesitantly, eyes trained on the ground as if it’ll somehow make it easier to say.
“I am on my way to Greece in two days. I know it is short notice, but Tony, if there’s any chance you’d still want to see me—“
Her heart seems to skip a beat.
“Tony?” she asks, scared to even confirm his words.
“Yes, Ziva.” He laughs in between his words and it sends a thrill right through her.
She can’t help but smile.
She doesn’t quite know what to pack. It seems all she owns is spread out on her bed, and after trying for the third time it refuses to all fit in her suitcase, yet again.
“This is pointless.” she mutters to herself, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Her curls still feel odd, having been cut only a few days ago. It was a sudden, rash decision, but the new Ziva, the one who does good, who has atoned for her sins, felt a little too much like the old Ziva when the tresses tumbled down her back. The breeze may feel odd on her neck and the bangs fall in front of her eyes rather often, but she feels good. She feels different. She can only hope Tony likes the change, too.
Her phone buzzes suddenly, dragging her out of her thoughts.
“Just leaving. See you soon :)” reads the text. She smirks at the emoticon, then suddenly pictures him ambling through his apartment, flicking the lights off lazily before shooting off a text to her. Her heart aches to see him again, and with a quick reply she picks up her suitcase once more. It’s not long now.
Her flight arrives a half hour before his. She stands around in the arrivals hall with her bag at her feet and her stomach twisting with butterflies, a coffee in hand that she forgets to drink until it’s lukewarm and bitter. The minutes inch by at a torturous pace, with more and more flights seeming to turn up but only minutes having passed. Despite knowing he’s not due for a while yet, though, with each crowded mass of people her heart seems to trip over itself. The melee scatters into mothers and boyfriends and gangs of teens tottering round in heels each time, as expected, and with a resigned sigh she tosses the coffee into the trash and stands straighter, arms folded and her eyes on the crowd.
The screen tells her his flight’s arrived after she already knows. The frequent glances to her watch where time has eventually passed, combined with a gut feeling, just tell her he’s near and when the start of the passengers begin to filter in she can hardly breathe.
And then he’s there. Bag in hand, and wearing a white fitted shirt that makes her ache in an old familiar way, he struts along with a grin on his face, and slows to a halt as he scans large room for her. She can tell when he locks on; he stands upright, shoulders raised a little in anticipation, and she’s waiting for one of them to make the first move when he’s walking suddenly. He speeds toward her, almost breaking into a jog as he grows near, and she hears the dull thud of his bag dropping to the ground just before his arms wrap round her. Her eyes squeeze shut as she buries her head in his shoulder without even thinking, and she holds him tight as they sway a little on the spot from the force of their embrace.
“I missed you so much.” he says, through a laugh.
“I missed you too, Tony.”
She laughs as well, and though she doesn’t know why, she’s crying a little too.
He pulls back, eyes darting all over her.
He sounds mildly hurt, but when he sweeps his hands under it to cup her jaw and cheeks, she knows he’s not serious.
“I like it.”
He smirks, then leans in and presses his lips to hers. His thumbs brush up and down against her skin as he gently pulls her closer, and she slides her arms round his waist to press herself right up against him. He feels warm and soft and comfortable, and if she didn’t have to pull away, she wouldn’t. He trails kisses over her jaw, her cheek, her nose, holding her so gently it’s like she might break. And then he lets his lips rest by her ear and her heart pounds as she waits for him to speak, a hushed, breathless whisper.
“I love you.”
Her hand rests against the back of his neck, fingers brushing short hairs right at the nape, and she runs her hand down as she replies, “I love you too.”
He kisses her again, briefly, then moves away to scoop up his suitcase with an eager grin aimed at her. She picks up her own bag, tugs his hand into hers, and they step out the arrivals hall. Together.
You are not real.
Are you apologizing to me or were you talking to you quiver?
I didn’t snap at my quiver.
You kind of more than snapped.
I know. And I’m sorry.
I still believe in heroes.
Best Avengers GIF set ever!
anonymous requested: Arrow + OUAT crossover please! Bonus points if Olicity and CS totally ship each other ;)
Your lips, on my lips.
That’s a merry, merry Christmas.
TALE AS OLD AS TIME.