Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, which might be for the best because my apartment is small.

Spoilers: Silent Night, a little. Sleep in heavenly peas. Heh.

Summary: I tried writing an angry one, but I really don't want it to happen that way, so…y'know. Buh-bye reality, hello Tiva.

Tony tapped his fingers against the small box in his pocket, wondering if he had made the right choice. About giving the gift, not about the gift itself – he was pretty sure he'd picked the right one, one that couldn't fail to… He took the box out of his pocket to look at it. He didn't have a receipt so he couldn't return it, but he'd paid with his credit card, so he could probably flirt or yell his way to a refund. Or maybe store credit. That would be useful. Uh huh.

It was starting to get cold in the car so he restarted the engine. He'd apparently been sitting outside his destination long enough for the air shooting out of the vents on high to switch from warm to air conditioning. That probably wasn't a good sign. It was really a shame, because he'd wrapped the gift himself and done a pretty nice job, with ribbon and a bow and no lumpy spots of bunched up paper. No tag, but…it was such a small box and it had always been his plan to either deliver it himself or…not.

Store credit was definitely not the way to go, but he could save the gift, give it to someone else when and if the occasion arose. Of course, the occasion would probably be different and require something ostentatious and even if it didn't, he would know there was something wrong because the wrong woman would be wearing…

He put the box away and smashed his hands against the wheel. "Get it together, DiNozzo. She's not that kind of woman. She doesn't even deserve a…"

He froze in mid-talking-to-himself sentence and directed all his concentration into ignoring the sudden tapping against his window. It worked until Ziva said his name. "Tony, why are you here?"

He took a deep breath and cracked the window. "Can I help you with something?"

"You are sitting in your car outside my apartment building at two in the morning. Why?"

He frowned and checked his watch, fairly certain he'd made the decision to come here shortly after midnight. "It's only one-thirty."

"And?" She folded her arms and took a step back from his window.

"And you're in spandex with sweat frozen on your forehead. You just come from running?"

"So?"

"Isn't it a little late to be out?"

"You are out."

"Well, yeah, but I, uh…"

She either saved him or doomed him by asking, "Would you like to come up?"

"Oh, you want…I…"

"You can watch TV while I shower."

He was jumping out of his car to follow her before he realized he was probably going about this all wrong. He was mad at her, which was why it had taken him so long to decide he was going to drop by her place to deliver the gift he'd picked out for her, why he'd been debating not giving it to her at all. He stood behind her as she unlocked the front door of the building and muttered to himself, "Why the hell am I here?"

"You saved me the drive."

"Huh?"

"I went running to clear my head. I came to the conclusion that this entire situation is my fault and that I owe you an apology."

"You…what?" Did her buddy-buddying with that prick Kemp really constitute a 'situation'? Tony suddenly realized that she was holding the door open as he stood motionless on the stoop.

He walked through the lobby and up the stairs behind her as she said, "I am sorry for being so…I have had unrealistic expectations for you. It is not fair to you if I get angry when you fail to meet them, especially when it is clear that you do not understand what they are."

He scratched his head, not sure that he was understanding what she thought she was explaining. "That's, uh…are you calling me dense?"

"I am trying to apologize for being so hard on you about Det. Kemp's wife the past two days."

"Thanks, but that wasn't my question."

"Tony…we are friends, yes?"

"Yeah, course we are."

She paused at her door with her hand on the knob. "I should be happy with that."

"What do you…" He was distracted by an unexpected sight when he walked into her living room. "Where did you get that TV?"

He reached out to help her as she seemed to get stuck in the yellow windbreaker she was pulling over her head. She kept her eyes averted, hanging up her jacket and kicking off her running shoes as she mumbled, "It was a…gift."

"Someone gave you a 46-inch flatscreen with complete home theater system?" He stepped closer, leaning in to inspect the surround sound system.

"Yes. A friend."

He reached into his pocket to push the box further down. "Heck of a friend."

"It is complicated. I tried to give it back, but…" she trailed off.

"Is this a, uh, friend from Israel?" The picture he'd found on her desk popped into his mind. "Maybe one you went to visit not too long ago?"

Rather than the immediate denials he expected, she actually perked up. "I went home for my cousin's wedding. I had promised her I would go before I found out I would be returning to Washington."

He decided now was as good an opportunity as he'd ever have to ask, "And the shirtless guy on the boat? Did you see him?"

"Yes." Tony wasn't sure how to react to the fact that she wasn't surprised he knew about the guy or that she was continuing to volunteer information, "Michael and I were working together and got involved when I was back at Moussad. Now we are not, although he does not seem to want to accept this."

"You mean not working together or not involved?"

"Either. Or neither. Neither?"

Unsure of the correct answer, he ended the English dilemma by asking, "So now Mike TV is trying to bribe you with lavish gifts?"

"I think my father encourages him."

Tony was unable to contain a burst of laughter. "Director Daddy signed you up for the Moussad captive breeding program?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Entertain yourself while I take a shower."

When the door down the short hallway closed, he tossed his coat on the couch and made a beeline for the refrigerator. No beer. A thorough examination of the cabinets revealed only a few unopened bottles of wine. He picked a cabernet he hoped she wasn't saving for any special occasion and started the hunt for a corkscrew. He was almost disappointed when he found it; the searching had provided a nice distraction. Before he could start thinking about what Ziva had said, he realized he needed to find wineglasses, too. By the time he'd uncorked the bottle and poured, he could hear a hairdryer. He set the two glasses on the coffee table and got comfortable on the couch. The SportsCenter theme music swelled all around him as he found ESPN in HD.

Footsteps behind him prompted him to ask, "Can I watch the Superbowl here? And anything else ending in the word bowl? Or ball?"

He was forced to turn away from the top ten plays of Christmas day when she asked, "What is this?"

All television-related diversions were forgotten when he saw her holding the small box that had prompted him into coming here. It must have fallen out of his coat pocket. "That? Oh, that's, uh, nothing. You can just, uh…"

"Who is it for?"

"Not…" Realizing it was pointless to drag it out, he bit the bullet, "you. It's for you."

She smiled. "Can I open it?"

"That's kinda the point of why I wrapped it. Uh, Happy Hanukkah."

Her smile changed to a smirk and then back to a genuine smile when she tore through the paper and opened the small black box. "Tony…"

"I, uh, I noticed you've been wearing earrings lately and I thought you might like…"

"Thank you." She leaned forward and kissed him, her lips pressing against the corner of his mouth a moment longer than he would have expected. She suddenly drew back. "Wait here."

His tongue reflexively darted out of the side of his mouth, seeking any flavor she may have left on his skin, but finding nothing. It wasn't as if he'd expected some fruity lip gloss or anything like that, just…he took a sip of wine and swallowed. Dry. Again, not like he'd expected sweet.

He was almost finished with the glass when Ziva reappeared. With some pride, he noted she was wearing the simple gold earrings. Definitely the right choice not to try to return them. She grinned as she moved to sit beside him on the couch with something hidden behind her back. "I am sorry, but it is not wrapped. And you may not actually be able to watch it, because I think it is the wrong region, but…Merry Christmas."

His brows contracted as he accepted the DVD. "Uh, The Spy Who Loved Me." He already owned the full Bond catalogue, but she got credit for trying. He did his best to mask any disappointment. "Thanks."

Ziva, if anything, was more excited. "Open it."

His momentary lift disappeared when he opened the case and found the DVD. "Yeah, there's a…" He trailed off as his eyes were drawn to some writing on the insert inside the cover. Tony, your lovely friend tells me nobody does it better than you. All the best, he finished by reading aloud, "Roger Moore."

"I know that Sean Connery is your favorite, but I wasn't assigned to perform surveillance at a wedding that he happened to be attending so…"

He pulled her into a hug that didn't block his view of the personalized autograph. "Ziva, this is…I can't even…you got this while you were busy being a super Moussad spy?"

"I thought the opportunity was worthwhile. I wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but I was…" When she pulled back, it just gave him more time to look at his new prize. James Bond was quoting movie theme songs to tell him how awesome he, Tony, was. He almost wanted to put on a tux and fight with a guy with killer metal teeth. Maybe not, but still…Roger freaking Moore!

Ziva was refilling both their wineglasses a few blissful moments later, not looking nearly as happy as he felt. Unable to imagine that anything could be seriously wrong at this wonderful moment when Bond was praising DiNozzo, he asked, "You okay?"

She drained the glass she'd just filled. "What is wrong with me?"

"There's nothing…"

"I am not looking for reassurance, Tony. I am looking for reasons."

"Reasons for what?" To his surprise, she launched herself at him, pushing him onto his back on the couch as she pinned him. Her lips and tongue against his neck just made him want to grab her, but…

He was suddenly very nervous. "Ziva, please…"

"Reasons for that! Reasons for why you don't want me!" Just as quickly as she'd managed to get on top of him, she was standing on the other side of the couch. "What is wrong with me that you are not attracted to me?"

"I just wanted to put my DVD down!" He set it carefully on the end table, making sure there was nothing in the immediate vicinity that could spill on it. "And what makes you think I'm not attracted to you?"

"Are you kidding me? I do not think I could be more obvious!"

"Obvious?" He stood, hoping the effect of her ambush wasn't too noticeable, although it was probably his best counterargument to her assertion that he wasn't attracted to her.

"Yes!"

"Outside the past five minutes?"

"For the past three years! Now tell me what is wrong with me!"

He looked at her carefully and told the truth, "Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you, other than the fact that you're apparently occasionally too subtle for your own good. If you don't mind getting maimed by Gibbs when he finds out, let's go." He forcefully untucked his shirt to emphasize the point. "Come on, I'm ready."

"Ready for what?"

"You wanna have sex, right?" He walked quickly around the couch and she took a step backwards into the wall. "Well, let's do it."

The hands she settled against his chest were gentle but firm, keeping him from pushing her flush against the wall. "Then what?"

"This is why I don't know what the hell you want." Pushing her hands away, he got closer, his forehead touching hers. "Five minutes ago you're all over me and now you just wanna talk?"

"Because I do not want you for just one night. I am so sick of not... Please, can we just settle this once and for all? If you do not want a relationship, I will accept that, but…"

He cut off whatever the rest of her ultimatum was, saying, "You do realize you're sorta springing this on me, no matter what kind of signals you think you've been sending, right?"

"And I am sorry, but…"

"Shhh." He slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her close so she could feel what his intentions were. He tried a brief kiss. "I care about you, Ziva, and if this is what you want…"

She pushed him back. "No! This is about you. If this is not what you want, I think it is better if you just leave."

"I don't want to leave."

"Then…"

"Yes," he answered firmly, his fingertips brushing her earring as he tangled his hand in her hair.

The End