So after a very long hiatus, I'm back! I wrote this slighty AU one-shot a few weeks ago and after having it sit in my documents folder for so long, I just had to publish it. I am also working on a new multi-chapter, which should hopefully be published soon (fingers crossed). I hope you enjoy this!

Spoilers: Slight spoilers for 10x01 and early season 10.

Timeline: Set about early season 10 (although it goes AU very quickly) and the events in 'Shabbat Shalom' and 'Shiva' do not effect this.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to CBS. This is purely a work of fiction.

- tivaandmcabby

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being the ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

The first time it happened, it was almost ironic how predictable it was. Contrary to popular belief, they did not usually watch movies together at one of their apartments or spend evenings together as the majority of the office happily speculated. And they certainly did not share pizzas and beers while idly resting on his couch with her legs resting on his lap, abandoning whatever movie was playing on his ridiculously large plasma screen in favour of just talking.

But, they had been growing closer lately. After the bomb, after spending hours together in a hot metal box, after sharing memories of their mothers or their sisters. And maybe all that was what led them to eventually giving in; or maybe it was the domesticity that they felt as they spent a late Friday evening together in the others' company. Whatever it was, a spark had been ignited. An accidental brush of his hand on hers led to eyes locking for the briefest of seconds, which soon turned into a heated gaze. They both knew what they wanted – they had known for a very long time. And God forgive them, they had been so good at resisting temptation for years that they had no strength left in them anymore to fight.

A mutual, unspoken agreement passed between them, in those few seconds before all rational thought fled their minds. That this was not going to be a caught up in the moment thing. This was what they both wanted.

They had always been good at reading each other, always known what the other was thinking. So it was hardly a surprise to her that when their lips met in the middle, and she traced his lower lip with her tongue, he instinctively opened his mouth and allowed her to deepen this kiss. After all, they were always in tandem.

They made love that night, for the first time. Somewhere, in the process of shedding her clothes in search of warm, flushed skin, they ended up in his bedroom, on his bed. He was gentle with her, tender in a way which she could never have imagined him to be. Somehow, she had always envisioned their first time to be frenzied, fuelled with years of pent-up passion. But afterwards, as they laid thoroughly spent on his bed, her head lying on his bare chest, she realised that she wouldn't have had it any other way.

As her breathing evened out from pure exhaustion and a hint on contentment, she felt him brush her wild locks off her face and touch his lips to her ear. I love you, Ziva he whispered softly, sure that she had fallen asleep.

Panic rose so fast inside of her, that she felt like she was going to throw up. Her breathing faltered. Her muscles tensed. He knew she had heard. His grip around her tightened almost instinctively, practically begging her not to run away from this. She gave in, relaxing against him.

He still remembers how, in the early hours of the morning, in the sweetest of voices, she returned the sentiment.

()

Talking about feelings was probably not one of their strong points. She was trained to kill without leaving a trace. He was trained to investigate cases where the victim was killed without a trace. Neither one was particularly good at talking about matters of the heart. It was just not their thing.

Days passed, which turned quickly into weeks. There was less banter in the bullpen, and even less flirting between two certain partners. The tension in the air was almost palpable, and poor McGee was often caught in between. Suddenly, he was having to dig out old quarters to get Nutter Butter's which he never actually ate.

When Gibbs had finally had enough with them, they were harshly instructed to get their asses to the men's room and get their acts together.

Wringing his hands together nervously as Ziva lent against the orange wall of their usual conference room, Tony confessed that he had meant every word he had told her that night.

Her face softened, and she stood up straight, not scared to move towards him and tell him the same thing. They stared at each other for what felt like eons, before he admitted, almost shyly, that it was not a one-night stand for him.

"It was not for me, either," she whispered.

He chuckled, suddenly feeling relieved that after all these years, they were finally on the same page. "How about we do this the right way, Ziva?" he offered. "Would you like to have dinner with me, tonight?"

She smiled at his suggestion – a beautiful smile which lit up her eyes, he thought. And even though it did only inflate his ego, he felt indescribably proud that it was him who had caused her to smile.

She nodded, accepting his offer. That was the true beginning of their relationship.

When they returned to the bullpen over ten minutes later, Gibbs tried to ignore Ziva's flushed cheeks and Tony's obvious stares, which he did not even try to hide. A smirk formed on his lips and he had to bite back a took you long enough.

()

Sometimes, it scared Ziva when she thought about how easily they had fallen into routine with each other. A few romantic dinners here and there – often followed by equally, if not more, romantic nights – soon became every evening being spent together. What began with her only her toothbrush and a set of clothes stored in Tony's bathroom quickly turned into her hairbrush, cosmetics and multiple pairs of work clothes kept neatly in his cupboard.

It was easy to be with each other. He had never realised how much she was a part of his life, and he a part of hers. Conversations flowed easily. At the beginning, they stayed on what they deemed to be safe topics – the office gossip, the team, the weirdest cases they had solved, and so on. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy talking to Ziva – it wasn't that at all. Sometimes, he just became frustrated that they censor the unsafe topics from each other. After all, after two months of doing whatever it was that they were doing, he had thought that they would have been able to trust each other with a few more heartfelt experiences.

He took the initiative. One evening, over his homemade penne arrabiata he asked her about her childhood in Israel.

She looked surprised for a fraction of a second, because they never spoke about things like this. They always remained on common ground. Then she pushed her empty plate back, picked up her wine glass from the stem and told him about her school and her friends.

That night, he learnt many things about her. Most of her friends had been boys when she was younger – a fact that he tried his best to hide his jealousy over, and Ziva simply laughed at his failure to do so –, she used to play baseball on the weekends with her sister and occasionally her Father (when he found the time, of course) and that her brother used to take her and Tali to, what she described as an absolutely stunning, beach in Haifa.

When he was lying pressed up behind her that night, his arm around her waist as he traced random patterns on her back, she asked him about his childhood. He was more than happy to share some very interesting stories about boarding school.

For the first time in many years, he realised that this was what a real relationship was like, and he thanked all the Gods who ever existed that he got the opportunity to experience it with Ziva.

()

Abby was the first one to figure out their secret, closely followed by Ducky – the old man was more attentive than Tony gave him credit for. Abby hugged them both tightly, going on about how happy she was for them and the fact that she knew that this was going to happen because they were, in her words, so meant to be. Tony just about managed to get her to be quiet before Gibbs walked into the room, his morning coffee in hand. Something about the way Gibbs gave him a knowing look told him that his efforts were futile because obviously Gibbs already knew. That damn gut.

McGee, poor naïve McGee, was somehow the last one to catch on again. When Ziva finally managed to persuade him to tell McGee, and he did when no one else was around, McGee just stared at him, mouth agape. He knew that it would happen eventually – after all, he had written a few best-selling novels about them – but he was comically baffled as to when the whole thing even started. When he got over his surprise, McGee told Tony he was happy for them both. You deserve each other he said to them honestly, and Tony could not help but feel grateful for such a kind friend.

They talked to Gibbs, together. It was almost cliché that they went to see him in his basement, after work one evening. The fact that Gibbs was expecting them was not even in the least bit surprising to Ziva. After all, the man knew everything. He waited patiently until Tony swallowed his nervousness, and informed him that Ziva and he were dating. Gibbs did not say anything, until –

"Rule 12, DiNozzo."

Tony nodded. He knew that damn rule would come up sometime during this "talk" they were having. For some odd reason, he was dragged back to all those times when he would report about his day to Senior over three fingers of Macallan 18 with one ice cube.

In the end, it was Ziva who managed to persuade Gibbs – the man did have soft spots for his daughters after all. After minutes of reassuring him that they would keep it out of the office and that they would not let it affect their work in the field Gibbs finally agreed that they could remain on the same team and break one of his rules at the same time. Ziva hugged him tightly, thanking him for being the Father that Eli had never been. He kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear, which made her smile – although Tony could not hear it from where he was standing. She noticed how Tony was still fiddling with his hands anxiously, so she told him that she would be waiting in the car and left him to face the boss alone.

Gibbs was proud of his agents – a fact which he rarely expressed verbally, but it was something he knew that they understood. But never had he been more pleased with Tony, than when he told him that he loved Ziva, and that they were both in it for the long run. Gibbs clapped his senior field agent on the shoulder, told him he going down the right path and warned him not to screw this up.

Tony heeded his advice, and as he climbed up the stairs of the basement, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. If they had Gibbs's blessing, surely it meant that they were doing the right thing.

()

There were fights. It was not a perfect relationship – there are no such things. At first, they argued about petty incidents – whose turn it was to do the laundry, or lock-up for the night. Ziva complained Tony's inability to keep the apartment tidy, and he complained about her complaining. But there was nothing a few heartfelt apologies and a kiss on the cheek could not fix.

They made up for their arguments. They shared their experiences with each other, ones which they had never told anyone before. He told her about Wendy in more detail; speaking of the heart break he had felt when she had left him the night before their wedding. He told her about Jeanne – how he knew that it would end badly, but a part of him clung desperately to the hope that she would accept him. He scoffed at how naïve he had been.

One Sunday, on their weekend off after many weeks, she expressed the guilt she still felt for trusting Michael over him – how she would do anything to turn back the clock and not leave her team for her Father and her country. You mean so much more to me, Tony, than Israel and Michael and my Father ever did she had whispered, her voice breaking painfully in between. He could only wrap his arm around her and reassure her that he did not blame her in the slightest for not trusting him.

As afternoon rolled into evening, it was he who confessed that he had gone to drink when he heard the words there were no survivors – that he had honestly gone to Somalia knowing that he would not make it back. And he did not want to make it back – not to the office only to see her empty desk opposite his or to his cold single bed at night.

She kissed him tenderly, wiped away the stray tear on his cheek with the pad of her thumb and made him promise that he would never do something like that again for her.

It was at times like these when he was suddenly pulled back to the break room, a few years ago, with Ziva leaning against the vending machine and asking him Do you ever think about soul mates?

He knows the answer now.

()

They were far from traditional. They did not go on a date before they slept together. He did not ask her to move in with him – it just happened eventually. So, in hindsight, since they had already broken these imaginary 'rules', couldn't they just break one more?

When it happened, even Tony had to agree that it was far from romantic. But it was just so them that it felt right. So when he looped his arms around her back and pressed himself to her as she stirred a pot of some exotic looking Middle Eastern food on the stove, the words just came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I want to marry you, Ziva," he confessed, and then kicked himself when he felt her tense. Had he just thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to him because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut for once?

She turned around slowly to face him, so that his arms were still around her. Her cheeks tinged a beautiful scarlet, and he found himself thinking that she was the most stunning woman who ever existed.

"I would like to marry you too," she breathed.

He could not stop the goofy, carefree smile which plastered itself on his face.

Jumping in feet first, David?

Yes she was.

He managed to produce a ring – without a box – from the pocket of his jeans. It was simple yet elegant, and the most important thing was that it was size five.

He got down on one knee, because even if he wasn't wearing a tux or holding out flowers, he just had to do that. The hard, and probably unsanitary, kitchen floor was definitely not good for his knee, but when Ziva's lips turned upwards, he found himself thinking that it was definitely worth it.

The ring fit perfectly. Not that that was a surprise.

()

The wedding was a small affair near the end of July. It was family-only, meaning that the whole team were there, and even Tony's father managed to make it. DiNozzo Senior could only pat his son on the back and tell him that he was proud of him and Ziva, not before adding an at least you finally swept the beauty of her feet.

She looked absolutely beautiful in her simple white dress, and Tony found it extremely difficult to resist the urge to turn around and just stare at her as she walked down the aisle with Gibbs.

They exchanged their vows, her eyes never leaving his. She slid the golden band onto the fourth finger of his left hand, realising that this was what it meant to love and to cherish for eternity.

()

Sharing a bed for the first time as husband and wife was something that neither of them had expected. By the way he had been staring at her throughout the reception, Ziva had half expected him to push her up against the door as soon as they were home and get her out of that dress. Her guess was far from correct.

He kissed her gently when they let themselves into the apartment – almost as if they had never done this before. There was such tenderness as he brought his fingers to trace her cheek that she was overwhelmed by the love and desire she felt for him.

They did consummate their marriage that night – although that was hardly a surprise to either of them. But afterwards, as they basked in the afterglow, his grip around her uncovered waist tightened, as he whispered that he never imagined that he would actually get married. Her palm rested on his cheek, scratching the slight stubble which had begun to appear, and she told him the same thing.

It was the truth. She used to be Mossad – doomed to die before thirty – and never allowed to experience love and marriage. He was an investigator, married to his job, and unable to fill both cups at the same time. But here they both were, lying beside each other on the first night of their marriage and somehow, two people who were never meant to be together were.

Temptation was definitely the sweetest sin they had ever encountered.