A/N: So ... this little, ahem, "one-shot" jumped my muse about three weeks ago or so. At one point, I even thought I might just write-and-post it as I liked it, it's a different spin for me, and I, frankly, just wanted it to stop blocking other things. (Hello ... everyone remember "Waves of Grace" - ? Rest assured that I do, too!)

Alas, this little fic had other ideas. Turns out it will be three chapters *pauses while you ROFLYAO ... go ahead ... get it out of your system ...* Finished? Good. ;) As I was saying, it developed itself a little more than I thought it would (which I actually love) and it refused to give up the obsessive editing part. What was a gal to do? You know how I feel about listening to the story.

I have taken Gibbs and Ziva out to play here differently that I ever have, at least in the first chapter. Some of you have perhaps read my recent "Angels in Disguise" (thanks!) which really highlighted their strength and confidence, even as they moved into a new aspect of their relationship without all the questions answered. Here, however, we explore their more vulnerable side. To me, the stories are not in the same universe. Rather, I view them as almost yin and yang, though not connected.

As you know, I see both Gibbs and Ziva as deeply emotional people. In addition to their strength, they both have a soft underbelly of vulnerability that they attempt to keep covered by a Kevlar turtle shell as often as possible. :) But, occasionally, the shell slips ... only to be yanked desperately back into place ... and then what? Well, if you read on, you'll find out the "then what," at least as far as this story goes. We are also reminded here that neither one of these characters we love is perfect. :)

Just FYI, when Tony mentions the Wizards below, he's referring to their local professional basketball team, the Washington Wizards.

Enjoy!

"Damn it, Ziva – didn't you pick up coffee last night?"

Ziva was sitting on the side of Gibbs' bed rubbing her eyes and struggling to come awake when her lover's clearly frustrated words floated up the steps.

Oh, crap.

They'd been working overtime for over two weeks straight on three back-to-back, overlapping cases, not even making it home to either one of their beds – together or separately - on well over half the nights.

Two mornings ago, after using the last of the coffee grounds to make a pot of the dark, fragrant brew to get them started on the day, he'd sweet-talked Ziva into picking up more at the store, adding a nuzzle and a kiss to her neck for good measure. Like she could say no to that.

While Gibbs had been in the habit of just grabbing coffee on the way to work, he'd given that up in favor of sharing the first cup of the day with Ziva on the mornings they woke up together before they showered and dressed and headed to work.

And she'd forgotten to go to the grocery.

Granted, this was the first time they'd been home since then and they'd both been so tired last night, they'd barely had the energy to change clothes and brush their teeth before collapsing into bed.

But, still – this was the coffee.

Ziva stumbled to the top of the stairs wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and her panties, and plopped down on the first step so she could see him. She leaned her head tiredly against the wall and looked down to find him just as bleary-eyed as she was.

"You said you'd get coffee."

"I know. I forgot. I am sorry. I will stop tonight –"

"Tonight?!" he practically snarled. "Lotta good that's gonna do me right now." In his current exhausted state, his brain hadn't yet processed the fact that he could simply get a cup on his way into the office, as he used to do in the BZ era – Before Ziva.

And not only that, for some reason he was in a mood and spoiling for a fight.

He turned away, muttering, "Guess I need Rule 52: Want something done right, do it yourself."

"What did you say?" she snapped, lifting her head.

She'd been feeling apologetic-on-the-way-to-useless, but now she was pissed.

And hurt.

He just kept right on walking back to his coffee-less kitchen before he said something he'd regret.

Uh, actually – that ship had already sailed.

He'd put her back up enough that she found the energy to follow him.

"I did not deserve that," she pointed out almost aggressively – and accurately. "You are not the only one who is tired."

"No, but I was counting on you to stop at the store. You know I hate doing that."

Her disappointment in herself over her failure on this front only served to put her further on the defensive.

"Yes, but since when did it become only my job to make sure you have food and your precious coffee in your house?" she snarked, stressing the second your.

The air between them fairly crackled with negative energy.

"Been together eight months, Ziva – you practically live here."

And, truth was, without any formal arrangement, she did normally make sure there were groceries in the house – and he'd apparently gotten used to that.

"There is a big difference between practically and actually," she pointed out, her heart hurting for a whole host of reasons – so she clung to her anger with a death grip.

"Yeah, well, if this is how it's gonna go, guess it's good it's not actually," he threw back at her meanly.

Ziva paled and her eyes went wide for a second.

Some part of his caffeine-deprived brain finally engaged and ordered himself to Shut up, Jethro – you're digging yourself a hole you don't mean and may not be able to climb out of.

But, apparently, it was too late on that, too.

"Well, then, I suppose it is good we have figured out now that I am not reliable in this manner, is it not?" she observed in an icy tone that would have frozen the balls off a brass monkey. "Perhaps you should find someone else who will remember to take care of these things for you."

Ziva spun away, blinking back angry tears, her heart breaking.

Maybe I should! hung unspoken, yet almost tangibly in the air. He managed to swallow the reflexive response, knowing he wouldn't mean a single word.

Fat lot of good his silence did him, though, when his feet stayed rooted to the floor.

In record-setting time, Ziva was dressed in her clothes from yesterday, slamming his front door closed and peeling out of his driveway while he hid in the kitchen like a coward.

Leaving him all alone in his house …

And feeling like an ass.

He released a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck as his head fell forward.

Way to go, Jethro.

Clearly that second b in his name really was for bastard.

He'd perfected the art of pushing people away over the last couple of decades, but he didn't want to do that to her.

Not really.

He loved her.

And somehow …

Perhaps simply by the grace of a God he'd given up on …

She loved him back.

They had been finding their way together, navigating how to be lovers as well as co-workers, gradually dropping the barriers they both usually kept in place, and it had been good – and surprisingly easy.

Better than good. Fantastic.

And maybe … too easy?

Lately, part of him had been sure he was too happy and had been simply waiting for the other shoe to drop. Apparently that part had decided to push at her before she could do it first.

It wasn't as though she'd committed an unforgivable sin by forgetting the coffee that he'd been too tired to remember himself – especially since she was just as tired and overworked.

Besides, keeping groceries in the house really wasn't her job … even if he'd like it to be for more reasons than one.

Even beyond that, he wanted this house to actually be her home, too – though he wanted it so badly that it scared the hell out of him.

What if he lost her?

Like that already wouldn't gut him like a fish regardless of where they each called home.

Being tired and in the early stages of caffeine withdrawal clearly weren't the only things working on him.

Sigh.

He went upstairs to shower and dress as he considered how to undo what he'd just done.

Ziva was not at her desk when Jethro arrived at work a short time later, a cup of coffee for each of them in his hands. He placed hers on her desk and went around to sit in his chair.

"Mornin', Boss," Tony said, glancing up from his computer.

Gibbs grunted.

DiNozzo's surprise at being the first one in this morning was compounded by speculation as he eyed Gibbs thoughtfully, but before he could say anything, Ziva and McGee walked off the elevator and the moment was lost.

"Hey, Boss, Tony," Tim said as he headed to his desk to drop his backpack and turn on his computer.

Gibbs stayed silent, so Tony stepped into the breach.

"Good morning, Probie. Zee-vah."

Ziva walked directly behind her desk, head down, avoiding eye contact with either her partner or her partner.

"Tony," she responded quietly, evenly.

Too evenly.

She stared at the cup of coffee on her desk for a moment with a carefully blank expression that gave nothing of her thoughts away, then dropped it into her trash can without a word.

Ouch! Tony grimaced internally, sparing a glance at Gibbs who stoically refused to react or even look away from his computer.

Definitely trouble in paradise.

The only person who'd been surprised when Ziva and Gibbs had gotten together a while back had been Director Vance, and even he had seen the attraction that fairly sizzled between them. He'd just figured Gibbs would cling to that Rule Twelve of his like a lifeline.

In fact, Tony, Abby and Ducky had begun secretly discussing whether they'd live to tell about pulling an intervention where they would lock their two friends in a room, shout through the door that it was completely obvious they belonged together and then let the chips fall where they may, when Ziva had been hurt in the take-down of a suspect and the matter had taken care of itself in the aftermath of that.

Surprisingly, there had been remarkably few awkward moments on the job after Gibbs and Ziva had become lovers.

But this one was a doozy.

The morning dragged on, filled with the requisite paperwork involved in closing out their recent cases. Ziva found every excuse in the book to be away from her desk as much as possible.

Truthfully, she'd almost just called in sick when she'd gone to her apartment to change clothes, but her pride hadn't let her.

She kept her twice-weekly gym appointment with McGee over lunch. Ziva had been teaching him some hand-to-hand combat techniques at his request. Shortly after they left, Gibbs threw down his pen, grabbed his coat and headed to the elevator.

Tony slipped in just before the doors closed. As soon as the car started moving, he threw the emergency stop and leaned back against the panel of buttons in a seemingly casual stance.

Gibbs looked at him with a glare that would have made a lesser friend squirm – or run for the hills.

"Thought you might want to talk," Tony explained his presence, ignoring the visual head-slap he was receiving.

"'bout what?" Gibbs ground out.

"Oh, I don't know," Dinozzo responded airily. "The weather. Are the Wizards ever going to put together a winning season? Where do Hobbits buy their clothes?" He caught Gibbs' hardened gaze. "Whatever's going on between you and Ziva."

A pregnant silence filled the car.

Tony just waited it out.

"Nothin'," Gibbs muttered and tried to reach for the button to start the elevator back up.

Tony refused to move out of the way.

"C'mon, Gibbs," Tony said flatly. "You and I have been together longer than either one of us has been with anyone else. Spill it."

Gibbs looked everywhere but at his senior agent for a long minute.

"Hadafight," he finally mumbled.

Duh.

"About what?" Tony persisted, trying to resist the urge to hurry this along. God, getting the man to talk would try the patience of a saint and while Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. had many stellar qualities, he'd never been mistaken for one of those.

Silence reigned for another moment.

"She forgot to get coffee."

Tony waited expectantly for the rest.

There had to be more.

Right?

When nothing else followed, the Very Special Agent nudged his boss. "And?"

"And nothin'."

"She forgot to get coffee," Tony repeated without inflection.

Gibbs just stared at him.

"Pretty sure that isn't a felony offense even if the answer's yes," Tony began, unknowingly echoing Gibbs' earlier thoughts, "but were you at her place?"

Jethro shook his head.

"Did I miss the announcement of her change of address to yours?"

"No," Gibbs grudgingly admitted.

"Yet somehow it's her job to get coffee for your house."

Even offered in a completely neutral voice, it sounded even more ridiculous when DiNozzo said it out loud. Gibbs had no response.

Tony's patience reached its limits.

"For the love of … Work with me here, Jethro - !"

Gibbs finally sighed and leaned back against the metal wall, eyes on the ceiling.

"Mighta said some things I didn't mean."

Uh-oh.

"Might have?" Tony asked, his eyebrows lifted.

The older man huffed out a breath, avoiding eye contact.

"Did."

Great. The one time the man hadn't managed to keep his mouth shut, he'd stuck his foot in it – apparently all the way up to his neck, if Ziva's demeanor was anything to go by.

And Tony knew his partner well enough to sense the deep hurt and uncertainty running underneath her anger.

DiNozzo considered the situation.

"This was first thing this morning?"

Gibbs nodded.

"If you woke up anything like I did, you were dead-dog tired, probably hungry and, on top of that, you were caffeine-deprived."

Gibbs nodded again.

Tony winced.

"That's a lethal combination for Leroy Jethro Gibbs," he pointed out.

That observation was met with silence.

"Anything else?"

Only someone who knew Gibbs well could have caught the faint shadow that crossed his eyes, his only response to the question.

"There's more," Tony asserted.

Further silence. Even less eye contact than before, if that were possible.

"I'm not letting you out of here until you tell me," DiNozzo informed him bravely. Or was it stupidly? He couldn't quite decide, but he cared too much about both Ziva and Jethro to just let it go.

Gibbs gave him a look that would have frozen sand and maintained his mutinous silence, fairly oozing Make me.

Tony knew a losing battle when he saw one.

"Okay, fine. But if you're not going to tell me, for God's sake, at least tell Ziva," he muttered. Then his voice strengthened. "What are going to do about all this?"

Gibbs gave the slightest of shrugs.

Damned if he knew.

All right, he knew. That didn't mean he had to say it out loud.

"Look, Gibbs. You and Ziva – you're great together. You can make this right, but it sounds like you'd better talk to her."

Jethro reluctantly nodded.

Tony hit the button and the car moved on down to the first floor. As Gibbs stepped out of the car, Tony held the door open.

"Suggestion, Boss?"

"What, DiNozzo?" Jethro asked in a long-suffering tone.

"Consider putting Rule Six on hiatus," he offered. If ever a situation called for an apology, Tony figured it was this one. "And don't take her any coffee when you do. Not your best idea there."

Despite his dour mood, Gibbs' lips twitched at Tony's reference to the cup of coffee that had ended up in Ziva's trash.

Gibbs nodded and moved to go.

Then he turned back.

"DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Thanks."

TBC ...