A/N This is my first NCIS fic! Anyway this is equal part Tiva and McAbby, because I can't write one without the other! This first chapter is pretty much exclusively Tiva, but the 2nd is McAbby. (Also, if you happen to be looking for the next chapter of "I'm not jealous, Wolfram" you'll have to wait a bit longer! I'm not too happy with that one right now.)

Ch. 1

Ziva David stood looking through the one-way glass into the interrogation room where Gibbs was tearing into a suspect. She felt Tony's presence behind her, just like she always did when he was around. As of late, her game was catching him in lies. It's quite amusing. "I don't like this guy," she said, motioning to the suspect.

"Why? He give you the creeps?" Tony paused briefly and then continued sarcastically, "Oh! That's right! You're Ziva David, you don't get the creeps, you give them." Ziva rolled her eyes, but he couldn't see because her back was still to him. "Or do you just not like the way he was staring at your butt?"

"No, Tony, I do not. But I've had to deal with a lot of obnoxious men. I'm used to it," she said with a pointed look at Tony.

"I—I would never stare at—"

"Liar," Ziva cut him off smoothly, "How many time do I have to tell you that you can't lie to me?"

"C'mon! How could you possibly know I was lying? I didn't look down and to the left, and you can't see me anyway," Tony protested.

"I know you're lying because I saw you looking at my butt just this morning when I was stretching," Ziva finally turned around to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, come on, you were bending over right next to me! Even McInnocent wouldn't be able to resist," Tony defended himself.

Ziva snorted and turned back around to watch the sleazy suspect, "McGee isn't as innocent as you think. And like I said, I can deal with obnoxious men."

For a minute, Tony seemed to not know what to say, but then he started up again, "Okay, Zi—va, if you're so smart, where else have I been staring?"

Ziva let out another half laugh. "I think I can name a few places," she retorted confidently.

"I bet you're wrong. I stare at your curls—"

"Curves?" she broke in, confused, thinking that this was another English language thing she didn't get.

"No, curls. Your hair, Zi. Um, there is also your dark eyes, especially that cute way you roll them at me. There's also your hands, partly because I'm sometimes afraid of what you'll do to me with them, and because they're graceful. I like to look at all of you. Is that obnoxious?" there was a peculiar note in Tony's voice that Ziva couldn't pinpoint.

"Why? Tony, what do you mean?" Ziva had frozen when Tony started describing her that way, but now she slowly turned around to face him.

"Because you're beautiful. Not just attractive," Tony looked into her bewildered eyes for a minute before he walked quickly past her and out of the room.

Gibbs came in before the door could completely swing shut. Ziva didn't have time to school her expression before he noticed something was off.

"What's going on with DiNozzo, Ziva?" Gibbs asked, glancing at her sharply.

"Nothing," she smiled, finally succeeding in getting the right expression, "He just informed me that he stares at my butt." She shrugged and moved to the door.

"Hey, Ziver," Gibbs called and she stopped, her hand on the doorknob, "Do I need to talk to him about Rule 12?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ziva said, and fled, still trying to unravel things herself.

~o0o~

A few weeks later, a Navy officer was found more dead than alive in a dumpster. The victim, Jonah Stevens, was still unconscious in the hospital. A back-trace of his movements lead them to a small, seedy bar. Tony and Ziva went to investigate.

By the time Ziva walked in, Tony was already making a beeline for a group of pretty waitresses. Rolling her eyes, Ziva approached the bartender.

"Can I help you?" he asked, more bored than polite, coming around the bar.

"Yes, I—" Ziva started to pull out her badge, but after another quick glance at Tony in the corner, she went another route, "I'm looking for my boyfriend," she said, pulling a picture of the victim from her pocket.

"Uh, is that him in the corner?" the bartender, asked without looking at the picture.

"No, sir, he's my . . . well, he's my cousin by marriage but I try to pretend not to know him," Ziva said in a confidant tone, knowing the man was believing every word. She handed him the picture.

After scrutinizing it for a minute, he looked back at Ziva. "Your boyfriend? Darlin' I hate to tell you this, but he left last night with three of the dancers."

There are two natural responses to that kind of news, either anger or sadness. Ziva (and the entire team) has seen them both. Personally, Ziva is more of 'what did I do wrong' type of girl, but right now she knew she could pull off anger much better than sadness.

"He did what?!" she yelled, adding a bit of disbelief to her tone. She paced a few steps in a circle, secretly enjoying herself. Maybe this is why Tony always does it. "Three dancers? I'll kill him!" do you know where I can find him?"

"Not a clue, honey. But if you're looking for comfort—or payback—I'd be happy to oblige," the bartender said, taking a step toward her.

"I am not your 'honey'," Ziva said sharply, "Do you know where he is or not?"

"I know where we could be," he said, stepping in front of her, so she was backed into the bar.

Ziva noticed Tony in the corner of her eye looking over her direction. She tilted her head slightly, "And where is that?" she asked, not really knowing why. Something about the fact that Tony was looking made her want to.

But then it went too far. The man smiled and moved forward suddenly, his hands landing places they should not be.

"Let go of me and tell me where Stevens is and I'll pretend that did not just happen," Ziva said quietly, startling the bartender with her sudden shift in character. Before he could answer, Tony, who Ziva had not noticed approaching, yanked him off of her.

"Hey, that's my fiancé you're manhandling," Tony snapped, with a fist full of the bartender's shirt.

"I thought you were her cousin . . ." the bartender said, confusion momentarily replacing fear.

"He is neither," Ziva said, flashing her badge and ID. "I could have handled that myself," she added to Tony.

"I know, sweet cheeks, I've seen you do it," Tony let go of the man and patted Ziva's cheek.

Ziva rolled her eyes and turned back to the bartender, "Who are the dancers Stevens left with?"

"Oh, I know, it was Karla, Maggie, and Lola," Tony broke in. Ziva glared at him. "What do you think I was doing over there?" he asked indignantly, gesturing to the corner.

"So it was productive? Looked like flirting to me," Ziva said, slightly accusingly.

"And you were doing what exactly?" he shot back.

Ziva opened her mouth to answer, but the bartender broke in, "Are you sure you aren't together?"

Usually they would both snap 'no' at the poor questioner, but Tony was strangely silent this time. After a pregnant pause, Ziva said, "No, we are not." She broke eye-contact with Tony and turned to the case, swallowing an unexpected lump in her throat.

Tony looked like he wanted to say something to her, but instead he cleared his throat and ordered the bartender to fire up security footage from the night before.

Two hours later, they were walking toward their respective cars in the parking lot. Tony stopped her before she could get in hers. "Ziva, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, I couldn't get to you before you had to let him paw all over you," he said, to her immense surprise.

She had to let him 'paw all over her'? She didn't have to do anything, it was her fault she was flirting with the guy anyway. "Um, it's fine? It wasn't your fault . . ?" she said slowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"I know, but he was a jerk."

Ziva needed to get back in control of this conversation, "Like you wouldn't have done the same thing if a desperate girlfriend found out her boyfriend was a cheat?" she snorted, knowing that she was being a bit cruel, but she wasn't sure how to divert the flow of talk.

"Maybe I would, but not to you."

"What?"

"Nevermind," Tony muttered and retreated to his car to drive away. It was only as she watched his taillights disappear that Ziva realized that he broke Rule 6.

~o0o~

When Ziva got to her apartment, she paced around for a moment before making a snap decision and grabbing her keys, wallet, phone, and (after a moment's deliberation) her gun. She didn't even think about what she was doing until she was steeling herself to knock on Tony's door.

When Tony got to his apartment, he stripped down to his underwear and prepared to crash in bed. He'd just finished brushing his teeth when he heard a tentative knock on his door. Figuring it was his landlord with another complaint, he threw open the door without checking to see who it was.

"Oh, God, Tony," Ziva averted her eyes, something she could honestly say she'd never done before. But now she was embarrassed that she'd even come so, muttering, "I shouldn't be here," she spun on her heel and tried to walk away, but Tony called her back.

"Wait! Ziva, please come in," he stepped out of the way and she silently walked past him and into his apartment. "What's up, Zi?"

"We need to talk," Ziva said, taking in his apartment with a glance. She still wasn't looking right at him.

"Okaaay . . ." Tony said slowly. He started looking around quickly, scanning for any type of mess.

Ziva noticed his jittery movements, "Do you—Is there another woman here?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"What? No! Just because it's a Friday night doesn't mean there is automatically a woman here," Tony sounded defensive.

"Well, there's the fact that it's a Friday night and you are half naked," Ziva pointed out.

"Oh. Right," Tony looked down at himself. "Um, why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll put on a pot of coffee and, uh, get some clothes."

Ziva perched herself on the edge of his couch and Tony rushed to the kitchen to start the coffee and then ran to his bedroom to grab some clothes. He slipped into sweatpants and a T-shirt, went to the bathroom and returned in time to pour the coffee. Handing Ziva a mug, he joined her on the couch. She took a small sip and clutched the warm cup in her lap.

Tony waited a minute for Ziva to say whatever she came for, but when she showed no sign of it he prompted, "So . . ."

"Why have you been acting strangely?" Ziva asked quietly, taking another sip of coffee before placing the mug on the side table.

"What?" Tony squinted his eyes and tilted his head, "I think you're thinking of McGee."

"Does McGee compliment me randomly? Does McGee break Rule 6? Did Gibbs ask me if he should talk to McGee about Rule 12?"

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Gibbs has noticed too?" he asked, sounding resigned.

"What has he noticed?!" Ziva all but shouted, "What's going on, Tony?"

"It's—I—nothing," Tony said, leaning toward her without really noticing.

Ziva sighed and tried another angle. "Why do you keep insinuating that I'm different than everyone else?"

"Because you are. I—I think I—" Tony started, but before he could finish, and Ziva wasn't sure how this happened, but before he could finish they were kissing. Ziva really had no time for thought as the kiss deepened and she felt her arms wrap around Tony's neck and into his hair almost of their own accord, and she felt his hands hovering around her waist as if he wanted to put them there, but didn't want to go too far. And, honestly, Ziva really didn't care.

But once she started reaching up his shirt, she did care. What was she doing? Jerking backward, she pulled away from him, standing a few feet away with her back to him. Ziva wasn't sure what just happened, but she had to get control of her emotions before she figured it out. She didn't want Tony seeing her face while she was doing the figuring, either.

Tony was really angry with himself. He hadn't wanted any of this to happen, at least not this way. "I'm so sorry, Zi," he said softly, still panting slightly.

"You realize you've broken a Rule twice today? Not counting whatever that just was!" Ziva exclaimed, waving her arm for emphasis, but still facing the wall.

"You want to know something? I don't really care about Gibbs right now!"

"Really? Because that's my main question," Ziva said, finally turning around. "What will Gibbs do to us?"

"Gibbs won't know," Tony jumped off the couch and moved toward her.

"Tony, Gibbs knows everything. He already asked me about Rule 12, and you haven't—we haven't even—" Ziva let out a frustrated sigh.

"Ziva, I love you, and if Gibbs has a problem with it, he can fire me," Tony said defiantly.

"Gibbs will probably do more than fire you. And what about Abby? She'll have a pasture day!" Ziva said thoughtfully.

With an excited noise, Tony grabbed her around her waist and spun her around. When he put her down his hands probably lingered a bit longer than they should, but Ziva didn't really care all that much. She was too busy trying to figure out why Tony picked her up in the first place.

"Tony!" she admonished, but she was laughing nonetheless.

"You—you love me!" Tony practically yelled.

"What? How do you know?"

"I just told you I love you!" Tony said as if this proves everything.

"Yes . . . And?"

"You worried about Gibbs and Abby! If you didn't love me, you would have said that instead. How's that for reading people, you Mossad lie detector!" Tony looked ready to throw her around some more, but instead he jumped around his furniture.

"Tony! Tony!" Ziva snapped, "I hate to burst you bottle—"

"It's 'burst your bubble', Zi, and what bubble are you bursting?" Tony asked warily.

"Nothing can happen with us," Ziva said softly.

"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded, looking at her intently.

"Because things cannot change," she said, "I'm sorry." She looked down from his face and left without saying another word. Tony stared after Ziva for a long time, even when she was already gone.

A/N This is my first time writing something of this scope and importance to me, and I would greatly appreciate any input anyone has for me!

Just in case you don't have them all memorized like I do:

Rule 12: Never date a coworker

Rule 6: Don't apologize; it's a sign of weakness.