Okay, those of you who are reading my other NCIS story, Her Return, may recall that I said that I would be writing another. I have spent a lot of time writing this one up, and so there is actually more of this than 'Her Return' written up.

I. Buisness Before Pleasure

Ziva groaned. Her head was pounding. She cracked her eyes open and immediately stuffed her face into the pillow. The curtains were open. Had she really left the curtains open? She was usually very fastidious about closing the curtains before she went to sleep. How much had she had to drink last night? She couldn't remember, but the feeling in her head told her it was a lot. She inhaled, expecting the smell of her usual fabric conditioner, and being surprised when she didn't recognise the scent. She opened her eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the brightness, and looked down. Floral bedspread. She hadn't owned a floral bedspread since she was nine years old. She groaned again and sat up, cradling her head when the pain reverberated inside it.

"Hey." A familiar voice said from behind her. She spun round, regretting the effect it had upon her head. "Did I wake you?"

"No." She smiled. "Woke up naturally."

"Please tell me you're head hurts as much as mine does?" The man said as he stood up from the armchair in the corner of the hotel room.

"I cannot believe that anybody's head could hurt more than mine. What happened last night? I cannot remember anything." She said, scanning the room for her blouse, the closest thing she could find being his shirt, which she reached for and slipped on, buttoning it up and slipping out from under the covers. She tugged the curtains closed slightly and climbed back into bed.

"I can't remember, either." He sighed and stretched. "But I sure wish I could." He chuckled. She threw a sock that had been hung over the lampshade at him.

"Hey!" He cried and she laughed. "What was that for?"

"You know exactly what that was for." She paused. "Why are we in a hotel room?"

"I don't know, but according to the menu we are in Venice." He tossed her the room service menu.

"What are we doing in Venice?" She rubbed her forehead.

"Not a clue." He laughed. "But I doubt last night was work related."

"Well, you never know." She chuckled slightly.

"You want a shower before or after breakfast?" He asked, picking articles of clothing up from where they were littered around the room.

"Before." She smiled as he paused when he picked up a black, lacy bra.

"Ziva David, I never had you pinned as a lace sort of woman." He laughed, folding it neatly on top of the pile of her clothes in his arms.

"Well, you do not know somebody until you know them." She smiled.

"Very true."

"I am going to have my shower." She breezed out of the room, picking the black undergarment off of the top of the pile with a smirk. He shook his head with a smile. "Oh, and Tony?" She leaned her head outside the bathroom door. "Your shirt." She balled the garment up and threw it to him.