Disclaimer: Don Bellisario and CBS own the rights to NCIS and the characters contained within this story. No copyright infringement is intended.

Ziva watched the crowds of people at the bar chat away happily, dancing, kissing, and doing what most people do on New Years Eve. She didn't have anywhere else to be, and it was rather depressing to celebrate the coming of a new year alone in her apartment. She sighed and downed her third Jell-o shot of the night when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She quickly spun around and nearly lost her balance when large, strong hands caught her. She looked at the man who stopped her and was embarrassed to see Gibbs smirking at her.

"Pretending to be a dancer, Officer David?" he asked, helping her back into her seat.

"Keeping an eye on my surrounding," she muttered. She could have killed him without a second thought if she had been in the right frame of mind when he slipped up behind her. He took the seat next to her and ordered a glass of bourbon. "You never come out to the bar." Even on team nights out, he always preferred to go home and work on his boat.

"Boat's just about done." He took a long sip, savoring the burn of the fine liquor. He usually drank cheaper stuff, but tonight was a night to celebrate, which meant he could drink something a bit more expensive. "Besides, I felt like doing something different tonight." New Year's Eve usually meant drinking until he couldn't see and woke up the next morning under the boat with one hell of a hangover. Ziva flipped open her cell phone, and it showed 2358, and it turned over to 2359 when she flipped her phone shut.

"You have good timing," she noted, ordering a glass of tequila. "You do have a countdown to midnight here, yes?" Gibbs nodded slowly. She slowly sipped her drink and regarded him curiously. Gibbs, who was slightly tipsy from what he drank at home, stared back. Taken by the moment, Gibbs pressed his lips to hers in a quick new year's kiss, which Ziva eagerly returned as the crowds of people chanted around them, cheering and hugging each other as the clock moved toward midnight. Ziva pulled back first, slightly breathless from Gibbs' kiss. "Shana tova," she whispered softly, leaning close to nip his earlobe. That had been differend, but a good different. And she wanted more "My place or yours?"

Gibbs moaned slightly as the night blossomed with possibility. He kissed her jaw and murmured, "Mine." She smirked and paid for both their drinks, dragging him out the door. She wanted to get to his house quickly.

"This is the time of year to promise change in yourself as well. A revolution?"

"Resolution," Gibbs corrected, ushering her to the car.

Ziva smirked at him and climbed into his truck. "So, what is your resolution?"

"It's personal." He started the car and drove them back to his house. "What's yours?"

"It's personal," she teased. "But I will tell you eventually." They arrived at his house in record time and the clothing came off as soon as he shut the door behind her. "Are you one of those men who like to be tied up by a woman?" With a small laugh, he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom.

Later, they were laying entwined in each others' arms, basking in the afterglow. "I will tell you my resolution now," she said, nuzzling his shoulder gently Gibbs looked down at her. "I promised myself that I would be more expressive about my feelings. I feel like I am off to a good start so far, yes?" He nodded and kissed her. "What is yours?"

He sighed, almost unwilling to share his resolution with Ziva. "I told myself to visit them more often." He didn't need to elaborate who "they" were. She knew.

"Gibbs, I-."

"Jethro," he corrected. "But only in private."

She lost her train of thought when he interrupted her, but she squeezed his hand gently to let him know that he wasn't alone. He kissed her forehead and held her close as they both drifted off to sleep, happy to be in each other's company. Half-asleep, he thought back to the song, Auld Lang Syne, and thought the words had never been more true.