Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. T'is but a scratch. I've had worse.

Spoilers: Cloak and Dagger, but just a little.

Summary: The team unwinds after the Lee debacle. Tiva.

"You okay?"

Ziva didn't look up from the cocktail napkin she was carefully rolling into a tight tube in an attempt to focus her mind on something outside of itself. "I have not had so much to drink yet that I cannot drive home."

"Not what I asked. Especially since we walked here from work, so I assumed we were gonna end up cabbing it home. That's what I was planning on, anyway, if you wanna share." A warm hand covered both of hers, blocking the napkin from view. "So…"

"Tony…" When she finally looked up, she found they were unexpectedly alone at the table they'd selected near the back of the bar when they'd arrived. "Where is everyone?"

"Ducky took Palmer home a few minutes ago. Poor gremlin's taking this whole thing pretty hard." That she remembered; Jimmy had been close to passing out as he sobbed into her shoulder just before McGee and Ducky had escorted him to Ducky's car. "And then Abby when to the bathroom when McGee got up to get us another round." Tony leaned closer, the odorless bite of vodka heavy on his breath. "So it's just you and me for the next two minutes, unless you want to join Abs in the bathroom. I figured the group toilet posse was an American thing and that's why you didn't…"

"Tony…"

"Sorry."

"No." She blinked and picked up her glass. She couldn't remember what had been in it until she tilted it back to drain the last of the liquor collecting around the partially melted ice cubes. Asking for whatever was the strongest thing the bartender could make got you a not entirely unpleasant concoction called a Long Island iced tea. She estimated three more would be her threshold of temporary amnesia; McGee, unfortunately, did not appear to be in any hurry. She watched him awkwardly chat with a woman at the bar rather than looking at Tony when she said, "You are not the one who owes me an apology. I am sorry."

"For what?"

"For getting you beaten last week. For the elevator. For what I said in the woods. I'm sure there are others." She held the lemon wedge from her drink in front of her lips for a moment. "I did not realize I had so much to apologize to you for."

He winced as she sucked the lemon. "You shouldn't feel like you have to…"

"It is not like that," she interrupted, wanting him to accept her sentiments and move on. Now that she had said some of the things she was thinking about out loud, she found that all she wanted to do was forget about them. "I need to. I was…out of line. I did not mean…I mean, I did mean…but I regretted hurting you."

The pressure from his hand increased as he squeezed her fingers. "And I'm sorry for hurting you."

"What are you…?"

"I'm not stupid, Ziva." He leaned in and she found herself unable to resist doing the same. "You brought up the elevator, and I know that I was the one yelling at you, so…"

Abby suddenly appeared in her seat beside Tony. "Oh my God, Ziva, did you make the right choice. I know we come here all the time, but I think they fired whoever had been cleaning the bathroom." She grabbed her beer off the table and drained the half-empty bottle, giving Ziva time to pull her hands away from Tony's. He squeezed her knee under the table when Abby turned her attention to the bar. "Timmy! We need our drinks over here! Flirt some other night!"

Although she was starting to get tired of saying it, Ziva began, "Abby, it is…"

"Don't say it's all right, because it is not. Michelle is dead and her sister-daughter is all alone and Gibbs is all alone too because he didn't want to come out tonight because he feels bad about…"

"Gibbs never comes out for a drink with us," Tony interjected. His hand was still resting low on Ziva's thigh and she was frustrated with herself for not having the willpower to push it off. "I wouldn't worry about him not having enough to drink tonight, though."

"That's not the point, Tony! He…finally, McGee! You're a terrible waitress."

McGee ignored Abby's jibe and set a loaded tray on the table before taking his seat beside Ziva. "Fine. If that's how you feel, you can't have any of the chips and salsa I convinced the bartender to give us."

"Wow, free bar food. You're my hero," she sniped.

Ziva missed the rest of their back and forth as she claimed her fresh drink. By the time she became aware that the conversation had turned serious again, she was confronted with another empty glass. Measuring against Tony, she was doing all right; Abby and McGee, however, had some work to do to catch up. Maybe if they would stop talking about Agent Lee… She poked Tony in the ribs. "Need another?"

"Yeah. I'll get them." She hadn't even realized his hand hadn't moved until he got up and the vacated spot felt cold.

His absence also gave Abby an opportunity to try to include her in the conversation again. "Ziva, you wouldn't have done that, right? I mean, you called Gibbs first, I mean after you called me to find out where to call Gibbs, when those evil bad guys tried to frame you! Why didn't Michelle just go to Gibbs in the first place?"

Ziva bit back any arguments about how the situation was entirely different. "Gibbs cannot fix everything."

"He could have fixed this better than it turned out in the end, though."

"Well…" She saw that no amount of arguing about difficult choices would change anything. Abby was just venting. Ziva didn't think she could make a case for redemption for Lee, anyway.

Abby continued, "You're right. There's no way we'll find out now."

Two drinks later, Ziva had forgotten all about whatever it was they were there to…what? She was still having trouble forcing herself not to think about that poor little girl sitting at her desk, coloring, but everyone else seemed to be done for the night. Flushed, she draped her coat over her arm and preceded her colleagues out the door. She didn't pay attention to what they were saying on the sidewalk until she realized she was again alone with Tony, this time in the backseat of a taxi. He gave her address to the driver. Tired and unable to hold her head up, she let it drop on his shoulder as familiar streets sped past. She was congratulating herself on escaping any further conversation when she realized he was paying and dismissing the cab in front of her building. "Tony…"

"Hey, no. I'm gonna walk you upstairs and then whatever happens, happens."

She perked up considerably as she opened the front door. "Really?"

"Well, I didn't mean…but…I can have your couch tonight, right?"

She hesitated before replying, "Of course."

He guided her toward the elevator, gently supporting her with an arm around her waist. The door had barely closed when he asked, "Did you bring up Jeanne because I yelled at you in the elevator last week?"

"What?" He was coming up because he wanted to talk? She transferred her weight from his arm to the railing in the small car. "No. I…I am sorry about that."

"I'm sorry I deserved it."

"You didn't deserve…" She bolted from the elevator as soon as the doors opened. "Why do we always do that? Look for the weakest point and…" She leaned against her door for a moment before starting the search for her keys. He was coming in and probably spending the night; that was apparently settled. All she needed now was to get through tonight without sacrificing all her self-respect. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, I'm good. And don't try to distract me. Every time…you weren't talking about the whole operation when you agreed that you were tired of pretending, were you?"

"I don't know what…"

He gave her a sarcastic smirk. "I'm not an idiot."

"No, you are not. And I should not make you feel that way." He grabbed her shoulders as she tried to push past him. "Can we…I am tired."

"We're here. We're alone. Let's just talk about whatever it is that's bugging you."

She wasn't sure what prompted her to do so, but she asked, "Will you just come to bed?" So much for self-respect.

The question, at least, had the subconsciously intended effect of distracting him. "You…what?"

"The couch is too short for you and you will not be comfortable. There is enough room for both of us in the bed."

"Do you really think it's a good idea?"

"Do you have a problem with it?"

"Sleeping in the same bed with a gorgeous woman who may have had too much to drink tonight? Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?" He resisted when she tugged on his arm. "Ziva, I can't take this chance."

She tried to throw his arm out of her hands, but succeeded only in dropping it as she stepped backwards into the wall. "With me?"

"With you like this."

"Tony…"

"Don't look at me like that. It's either hurt you now or hurt you in the morning when you find out what I did."

"So if I had not been drinking…"

"I'd be the one making the suggestion that the couch was too short."

She watched him seriously for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "Is this too much?"

"This is…" he finally returned her embrace, "nice."

"Will you…just for tonight?" She pulled back to look into his eyes, hoping he understood the request 'hold me?' was hidden in the pause.

"What do you want from me, Ziva?" he whispered back. "I know you want something, but I'm not a mind reader. Just tell me."

"I do not want to sleep alone tonight."

"I already told you, I can't."

"Not…" The alcohol and fatigue were making it more and more difficult to articulate what she wanted in this moment. "Will you just be there?" She finally broke eye contact and tightened her arms around him. "Like this?"

"Like…hugging?" She nodded into his neck. "In bed?" She nodded again. "That's it?" He hesitated for a moment after her third nod. "Why?"

He followed her to the bedroom even when she didn't answer.