Living with Ziva on a day to day basis was weird. For one, she cooked constantly. His refrigerator went from the typical dorm room contents - a case of beer, a bottle of wine, and whatever half-eaten leftovers he had the night before - to looking like Aunt Stella's once had. She made breakfast for them and dinner if they returned early enough. She made desserts and snacks and he didn't know how he hadn't put on ten pounds from her living there.

Another thing she did was get up at five every morning to run. She'd come home and shower before breakfast. Eventually, he started getting up and running with her because his twin-sized bed was lonely without her in it.

His clothes had migrated into one closet and her's into the other. She had photos she had thrown on his bookcase of her and her siblings and he fought himself to keep from begrudging her that picture. It was hard to see Ari looking so innocent knowing what he became. But then again, he had just been another pawn in Eli David's games.

"You have nothing here," she complained one Sunday afternoon when they didn't have a case. "If you were to move out, no one would even know."

"Well, they would if I took the rug. And I'd be taking the piano," he answered without thinking about it, sipping at the coffee he had made when she couldn't figure out how to work his pot, scrolling through his phone reading the news.

"We should move them. It would open the room up more if we did."

"No."

"But why not?" she whined, stalking through the kitchen like it was her apartment and not his first. When he didn't move, she stormed from the room. It was several minutes later when he heard the question that snapped him out of his daze. "Is that blood?"

Thinking she had found another body in his living room, he darted out to find Ziva staring at the spot that was no longer covered by the rug. She looked up at him like he had sprouted a second head.

"Why is there blood on your floor?"

"Gibbs couldn't get it out and couldn't find enough wood to match the bedroom. At least the skeleton's out from under the floorboards."

"I cannot tell if you are jacking or not."

"Joking, Ziva," he corrected with a roll of his eyes, "And unfortunately no. There was a triple homicide in the living room and a body buried in the bedroom. Compliments of the guy who lived here before me."

"That is not funny. Stop playing with me."

Tony shrugged. "Call Gibbs if you don't believe me, or Ducky." He tossed her his phone, which she deftly caught. "McGee wasn't around back then. It was when I first started at NCIS. I still needed an apartment cause I was driving in from Baltimore. When we came to investigate, Gibbs joked that this one was empty now, since the guy was in jail."

"Gibbs joked?"

"He acts all serious for you and McGee."

"That is an act?" She stared at the phone as if it might hold some answers now that Tony had thrown her world upside down.

"Don't tell McGee." He sat down at the piano bench, facing out towards her. "Why do you think the rest of us tolerated him for as long as we did before you guys all joined the team? Frankly, I'm surprised his straight man routine has lasted this long. Where'd you think I learned the glue on the keyboard thing?"

"Gibbs used to glue your fingers to the keyboard?"

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, and bricks in my backpack, unplugging my computer randomly, letting the air out of my tires. Gibbs was a menace! I'm simply doing my duty to McGee as my probie by making sure he has the same joys and life experiences."

"I still cannot see it. Not Gibbs." Tony shrugged and Ziva sat on the couch. "So why does he never call you 'probie' if you were his? Mike Franks still calls Gibbs 'probie' and you call McGee, so it has nothing to do with time spent as an agent."

"Cause I wasn't actually Gibbs' probie. These were back in the days of Stan Burley. He was my TO until he transferred. Gibbs was just Stan's troublemaking partner, though he'd probably slap me for saying so."

Ziva bit her lip and it looked like she was fighting a grin. "It is hard to imagine."

"Not really. I'm not the only one putting glue on McProbie's keyboard."

At that, she did laugh.

Night found them curled up in their usual position in the too small bed. Ziva laid mostly on his chest, freezing despite the fact that she gave off heat like a radiator. She had the covers bundled over around her.

"Tony," she whispered when his eyes were closed and he was drifting off to sleep.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you have a tiny bed?"

"It's a twin-sized bed." She poked him in the stomach and he grunted. "I don't invite women home."

It was just good operational security. Besides, his apartment was his sanctuary. He didn't invite coworkers there. Gibbs and Ducky had only been for that case and the clean up after, but it hadn't really been his yet. Ziva was the first woman he was romantically interested in and first coworker who had been in his apartment. He also hadn't expected her to stay as long as she had.

"You should get a bigger bed." Her fingers tightened in his shirt. "This room is big enough for it. We would be more comfortable, no?"

We, she had said and Tony felt a tingle run through him. She planned on staying here.

"So if I get a bigger bed, does that mean you're staying?"

"I… yes. If you want me to, that is." For the first time since he had met her, Ziva actually sounded unsure. Her voice shook and the hand that was in his shirt was holding on as if she let go, he'd disappear.

"I'd like that."