Rating: M for language and content

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters belong to NCIS, I own nothing.

Pairing: Ziva D./ Tony D.

Takes place immediately after "Gone". This is going to be two chapters of fun.

Thank you everybody for reading x

WS

"I can't even begin to tell you how much you owe me for this," he said and let himself fall onto his couch. "My God that guy can talk...Man, I wanna be that energetic when I'm 125."

"Shmiel is not 125. Tony."

"At least, Ziva, at least. My God, can he hold his liquor, too. My head's spinning."

"Maybe, Tony, you should have stayed at my apartment, too. You could have had a snoring contest...and you would be in bed already."

"Yes, in bed with Shmiel. Tempting. But anyway, I don't know what you're talking about, I don't snore. You snore, so really, you should have stayed at yours with Shmiel."

She held on to the piano and took one shoe off, then threw it at him.

"Ouch, what was that for? Careful."

"I do not snore. Tony."

"Wrong, David, so wrong."

Another shoe went flying.

"Ouch. What?"

"That is the worst thing you can tell a woman," she said, arms crossed, pretty eyes.

"I thought the worst thing you can tell a woman is that her ass looks big in whatever she's wearing."

"Funny. Tony."

"Your ass is fine, by the way. Great in fact," he continued, and her phone flew past his head and landed somewhere out of sight.

"Careful, Ziva. Why are you so...dangerous? By the way, you sure he's okay all by himself?"

"He is fine. I think he likes the idea of having my apartment to himself."

"Drink?" Tony asked and got up, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

"No, thank you. And thank you for letting me stay. I do not have company very often, and Shmiel...it is important for me that he is comfortable."

"Well, as I was saying, you owe me big time. And you can sleep on the couch. No way am giving up my bed for the woman who had me sit through a lifetime of childhood memories."

"The next time your dad is in town, Tony, I will return the favour," Ziva said and winked at him.

"God spare me the thought of that. I see how he looks at you. I'm afraid one day he'll do something inappropriate..." Tony pulled a face, then shivered briefly and sat back down.

"Tony!"

"Never say I didn't warn you," he cringed and poured himself a glass of wine.

"Your dad loves me," Ziva told him what he already knew.

"God knows why," Tony shrugged, took a sip, and a set of keys flew past his ear.

"Ziva, stop throwing things at me, look; I'm traumatised. I had to listen to Shmiel tell me about your first ballet recital. Twice! And now all I can think about is you at the age of six pulling your skirt over your head in front of a hundred people. How am I ever gonna look at you the same again? I seriously don't know."

"Whatever. Tony. I was six. And I enjoy stories about you when you were little, so I would be delighted to spend the night with your dad."

"Please don't phrase it like that," Tony whined and opened another button.

Ziva walked towards him and with a huge sigh fell onto the couch right next to him. "My feet feel like they are about to fall off. I need to sit down."

"You know we have to be at work in five hours," Tony sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

"You should start drinking coffee. Tony."

"Won't do. God, I'm shattered. Anthony DiNozzo Junior, beaten by Shmiel, the man of steel."

She laughed lightly, and he liked it.

"You know, Tony, most of his stories, I do not remember."

"Probably a good thing," Tony suggested, Ziva laughed a little bit louder this time, and lay down with her legs across him.

"Now, speaking of remembering..." he said, tracing her calf from ankle to knee with the bottom of his wine glass.

"Off," she told him quickly.

"Your loss," he said before he had even thought about it. "Never turn down a free..."

"Lunch? Tony?" she interrupted, then looked at him through half-closed eyes.

Was it hot or was he imagining it? He quickly took another sip of wine. Headspin.

"Not lunch, Ziva, no."

"Okay. I do not think we should go there," she said when she was done eyeing him up.

"You went there before the food arrived, Ziva."

When she responded with an outraged look on her face, he didn't know if it was because she was truly outraged by his suggestion or because she knew she was totally busted.

"I did not go there. When? What were we talking about?"

"You see, that's just it. I don't even remember what we were talking about, because you suddenly wanted to have eye-sex."

"Tony!" she shrieked a surprisingly girlie shriek, and this time he believed her genuine shock at his words. "Eye-sex?"

Tony looked at her. Just looked at her.

"You went there, Ziva. Oh, you went there, with innocent eyes, too," he shook his head at her.

"Tony. I did not go there. I do not want to go there."

"Is that right, Ziv-ahhh? So you can look me in the eye and tell me that you haven't thought about it again?" he teased her so well, and he knew it when she blushed. Oh, he could see the flashbacks vividly reflecting in her pretty eyes.

"I have not thought about it, Tony, and I am not thinking about it now."

"You're a filthy, dirty liar, David," he said and put his hand on her knee. "It's been all over your face for weeks."

"Maybe you see what you want to see?" she suggested, and he ran his hand ever so slowly up her thigh, watching her eyes.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm right. Or maybe I can't stop thinking about you," he told her, wondering if he was drunk or just plain stupid.

"Dangerous ground right there, Tony," she reminded him.

"It is, isn't it."

"Yes."

"Yes," he agreed again, but couldn't seem to stop himself from exploring her thigh, drawing slow circles, pushing his thumb into the soft flesh.

"Come on, Ziva, tell me again that you're not thinking about it, I dare you," he said, and squeezed her leg a little harder. She struggled desperately to hold his gaze, to stay calm, collected, and he watched her fail miserably, and it was glorious.

"I am not thinking about it," she repeated. One last attempt.

Tony leant towards her until their faces almost touched, then whispered: "Bullshit."

Her eyes dropped to his mouth instantly, her hands grabbed the back of is neck, and she kissed him, and he kissed her back, or maybe it was the other way around, but he really didn't give a damn.

"Tony," she whispered his name between hectic kisses and their joined effort of getting each other's clothes off.

"Sorry about the eye-sex," she giggled.

"Careful with that, Ziva. I swear, sometimes I feel like clearing your desk and fucking you right there."

"Tony!"

"And you know it. And you love it. Now get the hell into my bed."