AN: Yay, my first official Tiva fic! This was actually a lot harder to write than I thought it would be. But I thoroughly enjoyed it, and look forward to writing more!

Disclaimer: No, NCIS still does not belong to me. One day, when I take over the world, when Captain. Fuzzeepants and I rule the world! That's my evil little kitty's name, by the way. I'm not completely nuts. …Don't comment on that.

Also! Pay careful attention to the dialogue! Scattered around are direct lyrics to P!nk's song "Please Don't Leave Me" (which I don't own either). I will give the first person to correctly count the number of lines I used an imaginary snickerdoodle cookie! Enjoy!

This was it. The arguments of all arguments. Soon enough, some neighbor would call the police again due to the screaming, the throwing of objects around the living room, the harsh shifting of furniture. In all honesty, Tony hardly remembered what exactly they were fighting about, but he was a very stubborn man and refused to back down, just as she refused to back down.

He didn't know how he became like this either. Ziva made him another person completely; sometimes, most of the time really, this person was a much better person than the person Tony was before. But sometimes, this person was just mean and ugly and horrible. What is it with you that makes me act like this? He thought as he screamed something terrible at her.

She glared at him, hate boiling in her eyes. "Do you know how many ways I could kill you? I could cut you into pieces!" she yelled. "Why, Tony? Why act like this? I do not know if I can yell any louder to make you hear me or understand me… I do not need this, and I certainly do not need you!"

"Well, if that's the way you feel, Ziva, there's the door," he said, pointing to the locked door behind her. "Don't let it hit your ass on the way out."

She gave him one last vehement look, then turned her back towards him and headed for the door. She reached her hand out to grab the handle, when Tony quietly called her name. Normally, she would not have stopped. She would have continued to throw open the door, slam it behind her, and race home. The next day at work, they would ignore each other until the tension became so thick that Gibbs would force them into the elevator until they solved whatever was between them. They always emerged feeling better, but McGee worried that one day, neither would come out alive.

But the way he had said her name… so softly, like he needed her. Being needed in that way was not something she was used to. She turned around to look at him, and was surprised at what she saw.

All the harshness had melted away, replaced by an unfamiliar look. His eyes called to her. His beautiful green eyes, which was her favorite physical feature of his, had an unfamiliar look of longing mixed with sadness. It wasn't the normal look of lustful longing that was usually present on his face. The next thing he said was it all it took to melt away any remaining harsh feelings towards him.

"Please… please, don't leave me."

~*~

Ziva knew Tony had changed her in many ways. Back in Israel, if someone angered her and she did not have the opportunity to kill them, she would promise herself to never communicate with them again until they had rightfully apologized, and even then, she wasn't too forgiving. If she had been back in Israel with Tony, she was not sure if she could hold herself back and not kill him. He could infuriate her to such an extent; she had to remember their other team members to stop herself from taking her gun out at him.

Yet here she was, a half hour later, sitting with him quietly on his couch, which had shifted three feet to the right during their argument, when he shoved it towards her. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and his arm dangled lazily around her neck, tracing patterns mindlessly on her upper arm. They were sitting in a comfortable silence, each thinking about the other.

"It's always gonna come right back to this, isn't it?" Tony asked, breaking the silence.

"What is?" Ziva asked, not moving her head away from his shoulder.

"This. Us. You drive me absolutely crazy. I make you want to kill me," he responded, leaning his cheek on top of her head. "I've never been this nasty."

She smiled slightly and shifted herself closer, responding to his movement. "How did I become so obnoxious?" she asked.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "When you started hanging out with me too much."

Again, they fell into a comfortable silence. Tony thought of how far their relationship had come so far. He wasn't quite sure when they had begun "dating," if you could even call it that. He had resumed visiting her house once a week, bringing pizza, beer, and a movie, and the two of them would enjoy a night watching a movie or two. He would always return home happy and smiling, and the next day at work would be filled with their flirty banter and sexual tension.

One night, after a particular hard case involving the death of a young child, Tony arrived at her house, sans movie or pizza, only with a large bottle of tequila. The two sat together, drinking all night, silently toasting all their lost loved ones, and the ones they were just unable to save. Tony awoke at three in the morning on Ziva's couch with one foot on her coffee table, while Ziva's dark locks fell across his chest as she used his shoulder as a makeshift pillow.

After that night, she began to visit him too. Unexpectedly, she turned up one night with a bag of groceries and told him she would make him some Greek dish he could not repeat. He would cook his favorite Italian dishes at her house some nights too. Their visits became much more personal, and they spent much more time together as well. Falling asleep on the couch after watching their third or fourth movie became a common occurrence, and Tony was frequently awoken at 4:30 in the morning when Ziva woke up to go on her jog.

Perhaps things really began to change between when he began to join her on her morning runs. For the first week or two, Tony could hardly get passed the two mile mark without being completely breathless. Surprisingly, Ziva was a very patient coach, and waited for him to catch up with her. One morning, after their seventh mile, Ziva stopped some ways ahead to wait for him. He stopped about ten feet behind her, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Crazy ninja chick," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" she yelled at him. He knew perfectly well that she heard him, but he decided to play dumb anyway.

"Nothing," he responded, still completely out of breath.

"Do you want to come over here and say that to my face?" she challenged, smirking and stepping towards him.

He glanced upwards. "No," he said, standing up straight and walking towards her. "I'd rather do something else to your face." With that, he gently grabbed the back of her head and planted his lips on hers.

She was surprised at first, and did not immediately respond, but soon enough she replied with equal enthusiasm. They broke off the kiss, smiled, and silently jogged back to her apartment.

They did not speak of what happened, but things began to change even more so. At work, they tried their best to remain the same. They upheld their flirtatiousness, fought often enough, played tricks on McGee together, and even on each other occasionally. They knew they had McGee, Abby, and nearly everyone else fooled, but they sometimes got the suspicion Gibbs somehow knew. They arrived at work separately, went home separately, but always ended up at one of their apartments. They kissed each other good morning, snuggled on the couch together, and shared a bed at night. Soon enough, some of Tony's suits made their way into Ziva's closet, and the bottom drawer of his dresser began to be filled with some of Ziva's jogging gear.

As their… "relationship" grew, so did their arguments. Being with each other constantly, while mostly enjoyable, began to grow annoying and tiring. They fought much more often, and their fights often escaladed rapidly. She would throw something at him; he would shove the couch in her general direction. But neither of them meant to hurt the other (God knows what Ziva could do to him if she really tried).

The moment they were now experiencing, however, was rare. Tony shifted his arm from around Ziva and turned his body so that he was facing her. She looked at him curiously and faced him as well. He ran his fingers down lightly over her cheek and smiled when she gently leaned into him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly, and leaned in and kissed her forehead. She looked him in the eyes, then kissed him gently. She pulled back only slightly, allowing her forehead to rest on his.

"I am sorry too, Tony." She said, not breaking eye contact. "I always say how I do not need you…" She broke off, and looked away, shaking her head.

"I love you," Tony said quietly. Ziva's eyes darted back up and met his again, searching for what he really meant. For the first time ever, he had nothing to hide. He was not pretending to be someone else. He had never been more himself than when he was with her, even when he was alone. She extracted every bit of truth about him from him, whether he wanted to admit to anything or not. He yelled and screamed at her, and she just argued back. Every day, she challenged him and surprised him. His father had taught him to find a woman that could handle him, and Ziva did so much more than that. Quite frankly, sometimes he wasn't sure if he could handle her. But it didn't matter; they would figure things out.

"Tony…"

"And I need you. Ziva," he continued to stare in her eyes, willing for her to believe. "You've become everything to me. I love you."

Ziva's surprised face slowly changed to a happy one. She gently slapped his cheek and leaned in and kissed him again. "I love you too, my perfect, little punching bag."