I know I should be updating my other stories instead of writing new ones but this has been in my head for a while and I couldn't help myself. It was gonna be a oneshot but it got a hell of a lot longer. The writing style is different than I have tried before and the chapters are really short. I hope you enjoy it.

"I'm sorry Agent DiNozzo... we lost her." These were the words that Anthony DiNozzo did not want to hear, words he had refused to hear. Why, then, was the doctor saying them.

Tony walked into the squad room feeling livelier than he looked. He was sore, tired and hung over but he could not have been happier. He had just overcome one of the greatest feats known to man...;he had slept with the director of Mossad's daughter (a trained assassin) and had lived to tell the tale.

They were not living together, they were not dating, they were just like a very big bale of hay in a humid shed, waiting to spontaneously combust. A few celebration drinks with colleges turned into a drinking game with friends and of course it was Abby who had breached that line and dared the most tension heavy partners to kiss. After that it is pretty self explanatory, with the pleasant nudge of alcohol to spur them on, as if they needed it, a chaste kiss on the lips soon turned into a hot and heavy make-out session at the bar. After a minute or two of whooping from the crowd, clothes started to shed and the barman was not feeling quite so accommodating anymore. He cautiously broke up the passionate pair and asked them to leave, Tony, of course, flashed his badge and told him to stay out of NCIS business; at which point Gibbs and McGee stepped in. Each taking their charge and firmly directing them outside, into separate cabs and off to their prospective dwellings. Of course it didn't end that way; Tony somehow ended up at Ziva's apartment, in her bedroom no less, before waking up in the morning with a splitting headache in a contorted position across the bathroom vanity. Upon realising that he had no clothes on, he immediately deduced that last night was one hell of a ride. His suspicions confirmed when he wandered into the living room and found a bra hanging from the ceiling fan. He cocked an eyebrow at his discovery before shrugging dismissively and started hunting for his clothes.

He found them, or rather what was left of them, in Ziva's bedroom along with half a torn sheet and a busted pillow. The Israeli was nowhere to be seen. Tony disentangled a portion of his trousers from a makeshift binding still tied to the post of the bed. His shirt was quite literally torn in half, each half on either side of the room. It must have been some night, he only wished he could remember it. Pulling on the remnants of his pants and called a cab from the land line in the kitchen; downing a handful of aspirin while he waited.

The cab driver had laughed when he saw Tony's dishevelled appearance and asked, 'Good night?" upon which Tony had replied with his trademark smile, "You have no idea."