This was written for Megan on tumblr because she won a contest I had, haha. But I am posting it here, too, because who doesn't like wintry fluff with a teeny tiny dash of angst?

"You're quiet," Tony observes, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. He glances down at his companion's head, which lolled onto his shoulder a good half hour ago. She keeps it there now and doesn't look at him.

"I am watching the movie."

"Usually you talk during all the good parts, and I have to tell you to shut up," he points out. "But you're surprisingly tolerable tonight."

Now Ziva sits up, crosses her arms over her chest. Immediately he misses her warmth, and the ice-cold glare she sends him doesn't help. "Fine. I will sit here and talk about the merits of Jodi Foster even though you think her performance in his movie is mediocre. Will that make you feel better?"

He furrows his brow, unsure how to respond to her snippiness. Finally, he says, "No, that won't make me feel better, 'cause your heart won't be in it. Tell me what's wrong."

She inhales, holds the breath, one, two, three, and then releases it. She pulls his green afghan tighter around her. "My father called. He… is coming to town in a few weeks."

Tony pauses the movie. Priorities have just shifted, and he does, too, in order to face Ziva. "We didn't have to do this, you know," he tells her. "I would've understood if you needed the night to yourself."

She shakes her head. "I wanted the company." After a moment of thought, she adds, "And this is what we do now, yes? We… share. We don't hide things."

"That seems to be the case." Both of them speak carefully, as if the new bond they've been forging recently could still be broken. Tony has his doubts- he and Ziva are strong. Then again, his relationship with her is the most important one in his life. It should be treated with care. "So… do you wanna see him?"

"I do not know. My feelings toward him are so mixed, Tony."

"Yeah." They fall silent, but it's comfortable. She curls into the back of the couch, eyes drifting shut, and he pats her knee. Several minutes pass before she repositions herself against his side. He's surprised at how relieved that makes him feel.

"Press play," she says.

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It's snowing outside when the movie ends. Big flakes blow sideways in the wind, dance under the streetlamps, and rapidly descend to the ground. Tony and Ziva stand at the window and watch, mesmerized. Never mind the fact that this is D.C. and they see snow several times a year; no matter how common, there is a certain novelty about it that never completely fades away.

"I should go," Ziva says.

He turns toward her. She is stretching, arms high above her head. "You can't go out in this."

"It just started, Tony."

"I'm not worried about the roads. I'm worried about the fact that there's no way you'd be able to see out there, and you drive like a maniac in the best of circumstances."

Ziva scowls at him. "I will be fine."

As she starts to walk away, he quickly steps in front of her. She narrows her eyes, but he ignores her sour expression. "Come on. It's Friday. No work tomorrow, hopefully not on Sunday either. What could you possibly lose from a bit of partner bonding?" His concern over her driving is genuine, but there's also a part of him that wants her to stay just because. And right now, there's a little flicker in her eyes that makes him think she might want the same thing.

"Fine," she says, plopping back onto the couch, and he can't suppress a grin. "What are we going to do?"

Tony grabs the afghan she abandoned a few minutes ago and wraps it around her again. "There you go. Get comfortable, 'cause baby, it's cold outside, and we've got another movie to watch."

"I do not think that last part is in the song," she says, biting her lip, and he knows it's an attempt not to let a laugh escape. He smiles once more, doesn't even try to hide it. When he stoops down in front of the DVD shelf, she calls, "Tony."

"Yeah?"

"You picked last time. It's my turn. I choose Pirates of the Caribbean."

And of course he can't really argue, since he more or less made her stay, so he puts the disc in the player and allows Johnny Depp to fill his flat screen.

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At some point, her head ends up in his lap. She falls sideways and it just lands there, startling him and causing both of his hands to shoot upwards so that he is very pointedly not touching her. Is he even allowed to? What the hell should he be doing right now?

Ziva isn't looking at him. In fact, the way she's acting, this is a totally normal position for them to be in. He slowly lowers one hand and settles it on her side. She either doesn't notice or doesn't mind, and he breathes again, allowing his other hand to find its way into her hair.

With every passing moment, he becomes more comfortable; it isn't too long before he can relax fully and almost- almost- forget about her weight against his thighs.

Then, suddenly, she flips over onto her back and peers up at him, and his gut clenches in anticipation of a reprimand. But what she says instead is, "What do you think I should do?"

"About what?" he asks, confused.

"My father."

Tony tilts his head toward her. Of course he has some thoughts about the infamous Eli David, but he also knows that he can't share them. This is her battle, and as much as he would like to help fight it, that won't bring her any personal peace. "Ziva, you're the only one who can decide what's best for you, as far as your dad goes. I can't tell you what to do."

She huffs. "Since when do you have any reservations about bossing me around?"

"Not my place here." His fingers wind into her hair again. It's the only form of comfort he can offer right now. He watches as she visibly deflates, lost, and he makes a snap decision to add, "You know… here's the thing about your dad. There's plenty of bad stuff about him-"

"I thought you weren't going to-"

"Let me finish. So, yeah, maybe I'm not exactly the president of his fan club. But I also have to wonder… about his good points. Things that might redeem him. Because he did father the most… beautiful, incredible woman I've ever met."

Ziva's jaw drops, and he feels himself blush. Too much, he thinks, then begins to babble. "Should I not have said that? I'm sorry, I just- hey, let's make hot chocolate. You want hot chocolate? I like hot chocolate."

Tony, completely flustered, tries to scoot out from underneath her, but she sits up and grabs his arm. In the next second, she throws a knee over his lap and sits on him so that he cannot go anywhere.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

She narrows her eyes. "Did you mean what you said?"

The only way to make this situation any worse would be to retract his compliment, so he doesn't. He levels his gaze at her. "Yeah. I meant it, Ziva."

"Then there is no reason you should not have said it."

Only now, in his immense relief, does he register the fact that her entire body is resting on him. She is very, very close, close enough that he can feel her breath, close enough that their chests brush. His hands settle on the outsides of her thighs even as he wonders whether or not that's appropriate right now. Is this conversation still about her father? Or is it about them?

Ziva pulls his head down and kisses him.

Okay. Probably about them.

Tony kisses her back, forsaking all common sense. He grips her hips and draws her into him until every inch of his torso is in contact with hers. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this, maybe it'll ruin everything, but damn it, he's wanted it for a long time. Now that she's taken the chance, he will, too.

So he holds her tight, lets his hands trace her curves, opens his mouth when she strokes his bottom lip with her tongue. The kiss is soft, unrushed. They are going along at the same steady, somewhat leisurely pace their relationship has been progressing at, and it's good.

It's perfect.

She pulls away first. Their foreheads come together, and he watches as her eyes drift shut. The look on her face is one of extreme concentration, as if she is thinking something through or trying to commit what just happened to memory. He'd be doing the latter if he wasn't so distracted by Ziva and the locks of hair framing her face and the hand she presses against his chest. He doesn't even attempt to fight his urge to touch her. As his fingertips trail lightly across her flushed cheek, her eyelids slowly lift. She smiles.

"So," he manages to say conversationally, despite the pounding of his heart. "What was that for?"

"For being you."

He remembers when she caught him snooping through her e-mail over two years ago, and what she demanded of him afterwards is fresh in his mind. Apologize. For being you.

She has just used those same words, but tonight, they carry a much better connotation.

Tony, suddenly feeling drunk and delirious with joy, tugs her back to him. "Then I'll say it again," he murmurs, pressing one kiss to her neck, and then he recaptures her lips, though he draws back frequently in order to speak. "You are… the most… incredible… beautiful…"

"Okay," she laughs, tugging on the ends of his hair. "Now, shh."

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Eventually, they stop making out long enough to notice that the movie is still playing. Neither of them is particularly interested anymore, so Tony turns the TV off. It had been the only light in the room; they are now cloaked in darkness and only able to see the snow falling outside the window and vague outlines of each other. Ziva has recovered that afghan and draped it over them both. She has her arms around his waist and her head on his chest and he is rubbing her back and their limbs are entangled and it really can't be described as anything other than cuddling, which he definitely didn't expect to do tonight.

And yet, here he is.

His body is tingling and will be for quite a while, but he gathers enough wits to ask, "What do you think you're gonna do?"

"Hmm?" Ziva burrows further into him, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt as she does. He knows he shouldn't get used to this, not yet. Not until their spontaneous kissing has been followed by an actual discussion in which they explicitly state that yes, this will become a habit.

Even so, he can't help the intense affection and desire he feels for her.

"About your dad," he says.

"Oh." She shrugs. "I do not know. I have some time to make a decision, yes?"

"Yeah." Tony twirls some of her curls around his fingers. "I just… you know, if you need to… talk more… I'm still here."

Ziva lifts her head. A chaste, unexpected kiss is dropped onto his collarbone. "I know," she says quietly. "You are always here."