Ziva pushed her head into her pillow. "This is embarrassing," she proclaimed in a muffled voice. She took a sharp intake of breath as the cold, slimy liquid was spread across her bare back. "I am not a child. I can take care of myself." She scratched at her back, but another hand grabbed her and stopped her scratching.

"That's only going to make it worse, Ziva." Tim rested her hand back on to her pillow and continued spreading the calamine lotion across her skin. "You are sick and, seeing as your family is on another continent, I figured I'd come and help you out," he said with a frown. While he knew Ziva didn't enjoy having to depend on anyone else, especially for something like this, he had hoped she would at least thank him. "This isn't like having a cold. You'll need someone to help you out."

Ziva snorted. "I do not see what is so dangerous about poultry pox."

"Chicken pox," Tim corrected as he rubbed the lotion into her shoulders. "The older you are when you get them the more dangerous it can be for you. That's why some parents try to expose their children to it at a young age so their body will build up an immunity to it and they won't have to deal with it in adulthood."

"If it is so dangerous perhaps you should leave me be so you do not risk catching it."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Ziva, but I had chicken pox when I was six, so I'm really not at risk." He finished rubbing in the lotion and wiped his hands on the towel next to the bed. "Look on the bright side: it could be Tony here doing this instead of me." At that Ziva couldn't help but grin. Seeing her grin made Tim grin as well.

He stood and set the calamine lotion on her bedside table. "I'm going to make you some dinner. If you need more lotion put it on. Just don't scratch at it."

Ziva groaned, sinking further into the mattress of her bed. Her back was freezing, not only from being bare, but from the lotion that was lathered across it. She considered pulling her comforter over her, but she didn't want to get the lotion all over her sheets. Then she would have to wash them and she wasn't in the mood to do much of anything. She had always thought that chicken pox only meant having to deal with itching. She hadn't imagined how sick she would feel internally. The itching, though, did seem to take the forefront in things making her miserable. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think of anything to get her mind off the itching, but to no avail.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head. She could hear cabinets being opened and closed in the kitchen and Tim looked to be nowhere in sight. Her arm reached up behind her and began raking her nails across her skin. She moaned at the pleasure her scratching brought it. It was practically orgasmic.

"Ziva!" Her arm flew from her back and flopped over on the side of the bed. She looked back at Tim with a combination of weariness and guilt. "I told you not to scratch. If it itches, use the lotion." He placed a glass of water on the bedside table and picked up the lotion again. He squirted it onto his hand and furtively began rubbing it into her skin. "I thought you may be thirsty, so I brought you water," he explained, nodding to the glass. "You need to keep hydrated."

Ziva was half-listening as the lotion soothed the itching. "Oh, McGee…that feels absolutely wonderful." Her eyes were closed so she didn't see him blush in response to her. "I can tell you now that I will never again make fun of you if you get poison ivy."

"I brought some baking soda from home. You should draw a bath and pour some into the water. That will help with the sores as well." He pulled his hands back from her skin and once again wiped them on a towel. Ziva pouted, not wanting his hands to leave her skin. "I should have dinner ready by the time you get out."

Ziva nodded obediently, swallowing down the sickness she felt in her stomach. "Yes…I will do that."

Tim's brow furrowed in concern. "You look bad, even for chicken pox. How do you feel?" He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're very warm, Ziva. Where is your thermometer?"

Ziva pointed to the bathroom and Tim rushed in and out. Ziva looked up at him. She was still lying on her stomach, clutching her pillow with both arms. She looked almost like a little girl. "Keep it under your tongue." He expected some resistance from the woman, but she simply opened her mouth, lifted her tongue, and closed them down around the thermometer. She lay there, eyes closed, as the number increased on the digital screen. Tim once again ran a hand across her forehead, pushing away her hair in the process. He couldn't help but notice that, even with chicken pox, Ziva was a very beautiful woman.

The beeping of the thermometer reclaimed his attention. He pulled it from her mouth. 101. She definitely had a fever. "Ziva, I'm going to the kitchen to get you some medicine to help with the fever. I'll be right back." She nodded, though she didn't open her eyes.

It seemed like hours past from when Tim left the bedroom to when he reappeared with two pills in his hand. He handed them to her and helped her take a large gulp of water to swallow them down. Her head was spinning and she was growing groggier by the minute. "I do not feel like myself, McGee," she murmured as she slipped into a deep sleep.

When Ziva opened her eyes she recognized immediately that much time had passed during her sleep. She pulled herself to the side of the bed to look at the clock. 10:32pm. No doubt Tim had long since left. She forced herself to sit up and grabbed a robe to wrap around herself. She didn't care any more if the lotion got on her sheets or clothing, she just wanted to get through this ordeal. She felt better than she had and chalked it up to her long sleep. The sores were still there and she still felt woozy, but she felt as though the fever had begun to subside. She just wanted to get something to drink before heading back to bed.

As soon as she stepped out of her bedroom she could hear a soft snore. The lights were out, but she could make out the form of a person lying on the couch. She gently walked over, switched on the lamp, and smiled. Tim was lying on the couch with his long legs sprawled over the arm on the other side. His jacket was laying over his torso as a makeshift blanket and his cheek was pressed into one of the throw pillows she kept on the couch.

Ziva returned to her room and grabbed the quilt she kept in her closet for when winters got very cold. She walked back to where the sleeping man lay and gently spread the quilt out over his body. She had the urge to lean down and kiss his forehead, but she decided to leave well enough alone. She didn't want to wake him, nor did she want to risk infecting him (even if he had already gone through chicken pox). Instead, she clicked off the lamp, grabbed a quick drink of water, and returned to comfort of her bed.

The next morning Ziva awoke to the heavenly aroma of bacon and pancakes. She pulled her robe around her and shuffled out. The quilt was neatly folded and sitting on the couch and the throw pillows were sitting neatly against each arm of the couch. If she hadn't already known, she would have never guessed that someone had slept there the night before. Tim was standing at the stove, his back to her. She leaned against the door frame as she watched him gently transfer the food from the pans to a plate.

"That smells wonderful," she told him. He looked back at her over his shoulder and smiled.

"Are you feeling better?"

Ziva nodded. "I'm still itching, but my fever is gone down greatly." She moved to sit down at the table, but Tim held up a hand to stop her.

"Go and get back in bed," he ordered. "I'll bring you your breakfast there."

"McGee, I do not think that is necessary."

"You're sick. You need to stay in bed."

"I am fine. I am perfectly capable of sitting at a table."

"Ziva, for God's sake let me take care of you!" He looked at her, his eyes set in determination. "Get back in bed and I will bring you breakfast."

Ziva tilted her head, not accustomed to seeing Tim so forceful. She did as he said and slipped back into bed. She fluffed the pillow behind her so she could sit up and lean back against the wall. Moments later, Tim appeared carrying a tray of food.

"Pancakes with syrup and grapefruit juice for you and some bacon for me," he said as he placed the tray down over her lap, the legs of the tray going on either side of her hips. "When you crashed yesterday evening before eating I figured you'd be hungry in the morning, so I ran out and grabbed some things," he said as he sat down on the side of the bed.

Ziva, who was indeed very hungry, shoveled a forkful of moist pancakes into her mouth. "Thank you," she said as she chewed, not caring about proper etiquette. She swallowed and gulped down a good portion of the grapefruit juice. "You did not need to stay, though. I am sure your bed is much more comfortable than my couch."

Tim shrugged. "It's fine. Working with Gibbs I've learned to sleep almost anywhere. Sleeping on your couch is heaven compared to sleeping at my desk."

Ziva hated having to depend on others to help her. It made her feel weak and vulnerable. Still, in that moment she felt nothing but relief that Tim was there to watch over her. "Thank you, Tim. Thank you for taking care of me."

Tim smiled. "Thank you for letting me take care of you. I know you don't enjoy others taking care of you, but I feel much better knowing you're alright. Once you finish breakfast I'll wash the dishes and I'll be out of your hair. I promise."

Ziva spied the bottle of calamine lotion on her bedside. "Well…you do not need to leave just yet. Perhaps you could put more lotion on me. I'm itching so much…I just don't know that I can stand it."

"Sure. Finish up eating and roll over. I'll spread it on your back again."

Ziva smiled devilishly. "I think you may need to spread it in a few other places as well, McGee."

AN: Written as a Hangman prize for Lawral! Thanks to alix33 for reminding me that bacon isn't exactly kosher ;)