Author's Note: So, to the reviewer who said that I ought to warn people of the Tiva-tones in this story... the answer is no. If you are that vehemently against two people suggestively being together in that capacity, then the actual show must be painful to watch at times. And this is coming from a person who doesn't "ship" these two characters. At any rate, suggestion noted and appreciated, but not taken.

I actually did not mean for this to have another chapter, but I left that option open for myself. This one goes a little deeper into what's going on between Tony and Ziva, and also continues the conversation between Gibbs and Tony down in the basement. Some other stuff, too. Thanks everybody for the nice reviews and favorites and such. I really appreciate the feedback!

Must Be Nice
by K9LASKO

II.

If Tony has to hear about Rule Number 12 one more time, he's going to blow a gasket. And for Tony, that's scary. Because when Tony gets angry, he gets angry.

It's just another "Gibbs rule." Like a slew of other Gibbs rules: "always be specific when you lie" or "never, ever involve a lawyer" or "your case, your lead."

The truth is, Rule 12 isn't unique to Gibbs at all. It's actually an all-purpose life rule, like "don't shit where you eat" or "don't piss where you drink" or "don't be a fucking idiot (again), Tony DiNozzo."

He doesn't want to hear it; he doesn't really even want to think about it.

So he doesn't. He didn't. He shows up every other night, every other two nights, every other whatever night. She keeps the porch light on, keeps the chain off the door.

Spread out in her bed, restless and weary, he licks his own wounds.

Rule 12 is bullshit.


Ducky is acting as old as ever. He limps around and leans on his cane. Tony jokes, says the old man's armed and dangerous now. They'd all better watch themselves.

"It appears," Ducky states with a wry grin, patting Tony on the chest like someone might pat a good and trusty horse, "that age catches up to us all, eventually."


The central air switches off, and Tony swallows convulsively. It's so quiet now in this basement that they can hear the faint buzzing of the bare light bulbs overhead.

There's a moth flying overhead, paper white wings flapping while it dodges up and down, doing circles around and around the bulb. It's drunken and blind.

Gibbs breaks the awkward quiet, "You're sleeping together, aren't you." He's not a man who embraces subtlety.

Tony shrugs, but he's staring at his boss hard. His boss and his friend. Gibbs could never tell when one should end in order for the other to begin. Gibbs was black and white and only three shades of gray.


"I hear you're okay, McGee," Tony says through a smile.

Tim opens his eyes, looks up at Tony from the hospital bed. He's groggy, sore, and miserable, but that's not bad considering the alternative. Tim knows there's plenty of severed body parts still trapped within the blast radius that would attest to that. He frowns before slurring at Tony's blurry form, "Hey. Tony. You're okay."

Tony leans a little closer. "Yep."

Tim thinks he might be drooling, but he can't tell. Damn cocktail of sedatives and painkillers. Just to be safe, he slowly swipes the back of his hand across the side of his mouth.

"There ya go, McDrool."

Tim frowns again. He hates to be made fun of. "Abby?"

"She's okay." Simple answer. "All of us are."

Okay. Tim sighs. Pretty sure he's drooling again, but right now he doesn't care. "Hear you were stuck," he swallows, "in the elevator with Ziva."

Tony smiles, the lines in the corners of his eyes deepen. "Hear you had a five inch shard of glass sticking out of you."

"Yeah. Well." Tim sighs again.

"Give it a few hours," Tony nudges his shoulder gently. "You'll be right as rain."


Gibbs knows there's something going on with his senior field agent and his junior agent. Knows the both of them have gotten closer. Too close.

They aren't stupid; they know how to hide it. Regardless, Gibbs knows how to spot it. He knows all the tricks.

He corners Ziva by the stairs, stares into her brown eyes. "Anything you want to tell me, Agent David?"

Ziva simply says no. Of course not.

She's not specific when she lies, and that pisses Gibbs off. It's one of his rules.


If forty-something year old Tony told thirty-something year old Tony that he had been sleeping with a woman but not really sleeping with her, he would have laughed in his own face.

But that's how it was. He knows it's strange.

More than a few nights in, after Dearing was dead by Gibbs' hand, things changed.


Ziva smokes a cigarette on the lanai. She stares into the darkness, hugs her bare arms. She already knows he's standing behind her, leaning against the open doorway. Watching.

"I didn't know that you smoked," Tony says.

"I do not." She huffs, laughs without humor. "Shut the door. The moths are getting in."

Tony slides the screen door shut behind him.

She knocks the ashes from the end of the cigarette. "Why do you keep coming here?" She's still looking out into the night, still letting smoke escape from her nostrils.

"Why do you keep letting me in?" Tony counters.

Again, she laughs. She doesn't turn around. Not yet. "You take up my entire bed. You steal my sheets. You eat all my food and leave dirty dishes in the sink." It is strange, but she can hear him smirk.

"You don't like it?" he asks quietly.

Ziva takes another drag, stiffens her shoulders. "I did not know you were the type to hold out."

He answers quickly, voice hard, "I did not know you were the type to smoke."

Finally, she turns. Glares.

He says, "You know, sometimes I wish we were still stuck in that elevator."

Ziva narrows her eyes, tries to study his face.

He takes a step towards her, moves to snatch the cigarette from her hand. "Then nobody would be watching."


In the basement, Tony suddenly laughs. It's uneasy, awkward. He crosses his arms.

"You are," Gibbs confirms. "Sleeping with her."

"You think it's a bad idea?" Tony's question is tense, tight.

This is a familiar conversation. They've been here before. Except these days, Tony's not as afraid of Gibbs. These days, he's numb. Lost in a maze. Everywhere he turns is the wrong answer. Keeps bumping into walls.

Gibbs smiles, shrugs, but Tony knows him so well. He knows the man is pissed.

"So DiNozzo," Gibbs says now. "Must. Be. Nice."

Tony swallows, looks on nervously. The boss is acting weird. It's creeping him out.