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He does make it to Rashômon just in time, and he is halfway through the movie when it hits him. Maybe it's the fierceness in the woman's face that makes his thoughts drift. Maybe it's the commoner saying that most of the times we can't even be honest with ourselves. Whatever the reason, he suddenly can't stop thinking about the fact that he hasn't lied to Ziva since that day he lured her away from Michael in the restaurant (not with the big stuff, anyway), but that he also hasn't been completely honest with her. And right now, for whatever reason, that irks him so much he gets twitchy in his seat and wants - for the first time in his life - the movie to be over because there is something more important to be done.
Except that she doesn't expect him tonight. And she'd want to know why he came anyway. And that means they'd have to actually talk about it.
He manages to sit still through Rashômon, but during the opening credits of Ran, he slinks out of the Odeon with a weird feeling clogging up his throat.
*** *** ***
She has given him a key last week, and he runs it through his fingers for a moment when he reaches her place. He hesitates to actually use it, though, and that is weird considering it was a much bigger step that brought him here. Laughter drifts from her apartment, hers and a male voice, and he lets go of the key and raises a hand to knock instead.
She opens the door still giggling, and for just a second he wants to smack the guy around who made her laugh like that. Then he sneaks a glance over her shoulder and realizes it's McGee sitting on her couch, and that's not someone he can kill.
Her eyes light up when she sees him, and that makes up for her having fun without him. "Tony," she greets him, and her lips give him a smile that McGee has not brought up and never will. "What happened to your retrospective?"
"Had something more important on my mind," he says, and her eyes widen just a bit with a weird mixture of surprise and interest. It makes him think that this being honest thing isn't all that bad so far.
"Hey, Tony." McGee nods at him, and he sees the Probie's eyebrow quirk up in a weird way, laced with curiosity. Maybe Timmy already knows more than he has given him credit for.
He gives a half-hearted wave towards McGee, then takes Ziva's hand and pulls her out into the hall, letting the door close behind her back.
"What's wrong?" she asks, and he shakes his head.
"Nothing," he says and draws her close. "I just needed to see you."
She smiles against his mouth, and yeah, she is happy to see him. She returns the kiss he presses to her lips while his hands come up to her face, keeping her close. She is already out of breath, and he knows how that feels because it's all still fresh and wildly exciting.
"Come inside," she offers when he ends the caress, and he feels her hand at his waist, slipping under his jacket, her fingertips stroking his side softly through the fabric of his shirt. "I made dinner for McGee, but there's enough for three of us."
He shakes his head and laughs. "I doubt he would appreciate having to sit through me not being able to keep my hands off you," he says, and she wants to say something but loses track of her thought when his thumb strokes her lips. "I just wanted you to know that I still mean it."
That simple sentence makes her go very still against his chest, and yes, she does give him the questioning eyebrow, but he knows that she has a pretty good idea already what he is talking about.
"Mean what?" she asks, and he smiles because all of a sudden the thought is so far from scary that this in itself is trippy. But he'd had almost a year to get used to it, and just from looking at her face he knows how it will freak her out, so he just presses his lips to hers in a quick peck of reassurance and takes the easy way out, after all.
"What you didn't want me to say in Paris. I still mean that. And I realized that you probably don't know, so that's why I had to see you." Her eyes widen, and he feels her pulse speed up underneath his fingertips. She stares at him, all out of witty replies for a change, and that makes him laugh and kiss her once more, for good measure. "Save me some of that stew. I'll come by tomorrow, okay?"
She nods, then frowns at him. "How do you know I made stew?"
"Because McGee loves your stew."
"Oh."
It's hard to step away and let go of her, but eventually he manages, and with a little wave, he leaves her standing there, still at a loss for words. He feels her staring at his back, her gaze following him until he is down the stairs, and yes, his heart is still pounding in his throat, but it wasn't really that hard, after all. He can't help thinking that he could actually get used to this speak-your-mind thing. If she lets him.
*** *** ***
It's three in the morning when there's a knock at his door, and of course it's Ziva, all worked up and so confused that she couldn't leave it alone for another night. It must be raining because she's in the beginning stages of being soaked, and he lets her in and gets a towel for her. She thanks him and rubs her hair absentmindedly, and he leans back against the side of the couch and crosses his arms in front of his chest while he watches her watching him. He thinks that he could actually stand there all night, just looking at her, and be comfortable.
She isn't comfortable yet, though, and when her hair is no longer dripping wet, she runs a nervous hand through it. And then she can't help it and blurts out, "Were you serious?"
He wants to laugh and pull her into his arms and love her all through what little is left of the night, but in the end, he just nods. "Yes. I was serious, and I am serious, and I will be for quite some time, I think."
Her eyes widen at that, and she looks as if she is about to run again, so he reaches for her hand and draws her close and kisses her. She is frozen stiff against his chest, but he doesn't let go, and there is this moment when she realizes that and kind of melts in his arms and into his embrace.
She is out of breath when the kiss ends, but he feels the way a soft tremble runs through her, and so he keeps holding her until she can deal with it. "I can't say it," she murmurs against his neck after a while, and her voice is so low that he almost doesn't get it. "I want to, but I never have, and I can't..."
"Then don't," he interrupts her, and her chin comes up and she looks at him strangely, with a slight frown. "You don't have to say it. Just mean it."
She is really quiet while she ponders that thought, and he isn't even waiting for her to continue any time soon, if ever. He just keeps running his hands all over her because he has made his point and that is all that he wanted.
"I have also never... not said it," she continues. "And I have certainly never meant it without saying... well. Actually, I may have, but not for the same reason..." He wants to stay serious, but he really can't help the smile that keeps creeping into his face at her babbling, and eventually she makes a frustrated little sound while she pushes back her hair. "This is getting confusing."
He does laugh out loud at that. "Did we ever have a non-confusing moment?"
She smiles at that, and then she meets his eyes, and from the way she looks at him he knows that she is thinking about Paris now, too. That's when she gets it and some things suddenly seem a lot less hard, even to her, and she rises up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips while she murmurs something against his mouth. And he knows that she means it.