Ziva dropped her book to the table in frustration. She rubbed her weary eyes as she leaned back in her seat. She couldn't stand to look at even one more word. "Do you know what really gets my lamb about all of this, McGee?"

"Goat," he corrected as he sat down beside her, placing a bowl of potato chips between the two of them.

"What about a goat?"

"The term is 'gets my goat,' not lamb."

She shook her head. "Whatever the saying is! What bugs me about this entire thing is that a man like Tony who knows next to nothing about his own country is able to hold whatever job he chooses."

"It's one of the perks of being born here," Tim said as he grabbed the book from where she'd discarded it. He offered it to her, adding, "At least you can brag that you know more about his country than Tony does."

Ziva looked at the book with disdain, frowning at it as though it were the very source of her problems. "I cannot stand to study any more tonight."

"Come on," he prodded, "just a little more."

"McGee, if I read any more my brain will explode!" She folded her arms on the table and laid her head down. "All of this studying is beginning to affect my sleep. Last night I kept having dreams that George Washington was quizzing me on the constitution, and every time I missed a question, Abraham Lincoln would pull a lever that dunked me in freezing water."

"Ziva, it was a dream. Think of it this way: If you don't pass your test and become a citizen, Tony will never let you live it down."

"I do not care. I can handle Tony in other ways."

Tim frowned. He hated Ziva become so despondent. She was an intelligent woman and he had no doubt she could nail this; she just needed someone there to push her.

"How about this," he offered. "I'll quiz you and for every question you get right, I'll give you something."

She peeked her head up, obviously interested in this deal. "What will you give me?"

"Oh, well I hadn't thought about that," Tim admitted, slightly taken aback. "What would you like me to give you?"

She was pensive for a moment, lips pursed together as she considered her options. Then, with a sly grin, she answered. "For every question I answer correctly, I would like a kiss. Is that fair enough?"

Tim blushed. "Ah, no…I mean, yes…yes that's very fair."

"Then I accept your challenge," she replied with great defiance.

"Okay," he said, taking up the book, "first question: can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?"

Ziva snorted. "That is an easy one." And she recited it with the same monotonous tone that many Americans did when called upon to do so. When she was finished, she leaned over and pecked his lips with her own. "I do hope the rest of the questions are more difficult. I enjoy a challenge."

With a small smile, Tim continued. "In what year was the Declaration of Independence adopted?"

"1776," she answered with ease before leaning in for another kiss. "Please, Timothy, give me something difficult!"

"How about this: name the original thirteen states of America."

That one caused her to pause for a moment. "Well, that is a bit different."

"Too hard for you?" he teased.

"Not at all. I merely meant that by answering this question I would technically be giving thirteen answers."

"And?"

"Well, that would mean thirteen kisses in return, yes?"

Tim shrugged. "Sure."

Her lips curled upward. "Virginia and Maryland, of course."

"That's two."

"Then we have New York, New Hampshire, and New Jersey."

"Which brings our total to five."

"You also have North Carolina and South Carolina."

"That makes seven. Six more to go!"

"Well, there is also Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut."

"That's ten. What are the last three?"

"Rhode Island, Delaware, and…" She stopped with a small frown. "And…"

"And…?" he asked. "Come on, Ziva, you know it."

She sighed. "Give me my twelve kisses."

"What?"

"I have earned twelve kisses. Perhaps that will help me remember the last one."

Tim rolled his eyes, but obliged, leaning across the table and planting twelve firm kisses on her lips. "Ten…eleven…twelve," he finished before leaning back into his chair. "Now give me that thirteenth."

But Ziva wasn't finished yet. "What will you give me for it?"

"Didn't we agree on one kiss per every right answer?"

"Yes, but I think I'd like more."

"More? Like what?"

She didn't reply, but her eyes flickered toward the open door of the bedroom. Tim took the hint.

"I don't know…I mean, it's just one answer…how much can it be worth?"

"One answer could be the difference between me passing and failing," she pointed out.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Give me the last one and we'll put aside the studying for now."

"In that case," she said, a twinkle gleaming in her eye, "the last one is, of course, Georgia."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like you knew that one all along, like you were just hustling me to get something out of it."

She took the book from him and closed it. "Maybe I was. Are you complaining?"

"No," he admitted as he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, "I can't say that I am."

AN: Thanks for reading!