Author's Note -

Hello, Tiva fans! This is my first venture into writing fanfiction, so I'm still getting the hang of how to properly upload these stories and edit them and what not, so bear with me. That being said, I'm quite excited to post this, and would absolutely appreciate all of your reviews and feedback. It will help me in my future stories, of which I hope to write many.

If you're like me (and the very fact that you are browsing the M-rated NCIS stories suggests that you are), you have probably wondered what really happened that night that our intrepid duo went under cover as sex-crazed married assassins. This is my take on the matter. Based on the rating, and the summary, well... you can probably guess where this will lead. It's a slow build, but it will get there, and you shall be handsomely rewarded for sticking it out. Most of the early chapters are short, anyways, so that we can quickly get to the good stuff.

It should be noted that I own nothing of this fine program, much to my dismay. It should also be noted that I rewatched this particular episode over and over and over, much to my delight, with the hopes of getting every detail that I possibly could correct. The dialogue, the knowing looks between the two, the way their clothes were scattered across the floor, you name it. So if I missed anything, well... it wasn't for lack of trying.

I think that's everything, so please enjoy! And again, your comments and such are greatly appreciated. :)

November 6th, 2005

"Ziva, I'm out of rubber bands, do you have any rubber bands?"

Ziva David tore her eyes off of her computer screen and surveyed the mess Tony had made at his desk. Drawers opened, files overturned, the contents of his trashcan scattered across the floor. He sat in the middle of it all with a defeated pout on his face, like a child who had misplaced his favorite toy. All, as it turned out, in search of rubber bands, which he could easily have found in the nearby supply closet. She suppressed the urge to make a wisecrack about his laziness, or investigative skills for that matter, in favor of quickly getting back to work. She had case reports to finish, and was still getting the hang of how to do them.

"Yes," she stated simply, in favor of moving past the situation and finishing the task at hand. As much as she had grown to love their banter over the past few months, she did not currently have the time for it.

"Well I'm all out, can I have so—"

"—Don't give him any!" McGee interjected, not lifting his eyes from his own computer.

"Quiet, McNosy, I asked Ziva," Tony retorted. "Ziva, can I—"

"—No," Ziva said, cutting Tony off, returning to her work once more.

Tony scoffed and raised an eyebrow at the woman across from him. "No?"

"If I recall," she began, "you used all of yours last week in your little 'rubber band war,' yes?"

McGee answered for him, "Yes."

Tony shot him a look, and turned back to Ziva. "Well I need them now, I swear. My field kit is a mess. Everything's loose in there, I've got to organize it somehow."

Ziva gave him an incredulous look. Tony flashed her his 1,000-watt grin. McGee rolled his eyes and decided he would just try to stay out of it. He had learned that that was normally for the best.

"Fine," Ziva finally relented, eager to put an end to it. She reached into her top drawer, found her box of rubber bands, and tossed them across the bullpen.

"Thanks, Zee-vah," Tony said with a smile. Ziva gladly went back about her business. All was calm once again.

A few moments passed, when Ziva felt a sharp twang on her arm.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. She noticed a rubber band bounce onto her desk.

DiNozzo.

She raised her head to see Tony leaning back in his chair, casually wrapping a rubber band around his supply of sterile cotton swabs.

"McGee did it," he said coolly.

"If you value your reproductive organs as much as I am sure you do, you will refrain from doing that again," Ziva pressed out between clenched teeth.

"You heard the lady, Probie," Tony told McGee.

McGee still refused to look up from his computer. "Ziva, it was Tony. Tony, you really should sto— Oww!"

The probationary agent's hand flew up to rub the stinging sensation on his cheek as he looked down to see a rubber band fall onto his keyboard.

DiNozzo.

Tony started to chuckle. "DiNozzo, 2, Enemy Resistance, 0. Your mov—OW!"

Gibbs.

Tony tenderly rubbed the back of his head where he had just been properly head-slapped.

"War's over, DiNozzo," Gibbs stated matter-of-factly, having appeared as if from nowhere, two files tucked securely under his arm. He was already on the move again.

"Right, Boss," Tony conceded. "You win, Boss."

Gibbs was ascending the stairs behind Tony's desk when he gave the order: "Tony. Ziva. Conference room. Now."