A/N: Please don't assume I'll be posting this one daily, but I felt the need to post this now to clear up something people seemed to misunderstand: This story is not a one shot. It's not long, but it's about eight chapters. So if you felt that chapter one didn't really feel finished as a story, that'd be why. Also, portions of this fic have been posted on my Tumblr before, so some of you might feel that bits sound familiar.
Anyway, thanks for your interest and here's chapter two. The rest will follow weekly from here on out.

Thursday, 0520

Tony hid his yawn behind his cup as he turned away from the coffee counter at the airport. Despite clinging to his mattress until the very last possible second that morning, he'd clearly needed another hour or so to make him feel even close to his age. Right now he felt more like Gibbs' age. The up side of that was that he could be grumpy without conscience. At least until the moment Ziva shot him her Side-Eye of Impending Intolerance. Then he'd have to start trying to act like someone who didn't take her for granted every day.

He balanced Ziva's coffee top on top of his as he swiped a complementary newspaper from the rack beside the counter and folded it under his arm. Then he began the long walk to the departure gate. A staff member passed him in the airport version of a golf cart, and Tony considered calling out and asking for a ride. But the cart was gone before he could decide how personally embarrassing it would be to jump on board transport that was usually reserved for the elderly and incapacitated. He spied the moving walkway 20 feet ahead, and at this time of the morning Tony figured he could get away with being one of those annoying people who stood still and treated it as a ride. Usually Ziva dealt with those people by shoving past them with more force than necessary (bonus points if she made them spill their coffee on themselves). But, with a quick look over his shoulder to confirm, Ziva wasn't around yet. Tony reckoned his suit would be safe.

When he finally reached the departure gate, Tony found Ziva already sitting in one of the hard, narrow chairs. Her attention was focused on her cell phone but he knew she was probably already aware he was there. As far as Tony was concerned, both Gibbs and Ziva had superpowers. He didn't care that they both denied it.

He dropped into the seat beside her and wordlessly passed over her coffee. She took it without lifting her eyes from her cell phone, murmured her thanks, and then drank about half the cup in one go. Tony sipped more daintily at his and then opened his paper. No one was in a chatty mood, it seemed.

It was five minutes before Ziva finished her coffee and set it on the ground beside her. "Shot?"

He didn't need her to clarify. Tony was fluent in the language of Sleep-Deprived Ziva, even when he was as deprived as her. "Hazelnut."

"Nice," she nodded.

Tony nodded back, and then made a huge effort to construct a full sentence. "They were all out of Americana flavor."

"What is that?"

He managed to pull his eyes from the newspaper to look at her. "Kind of a mix of bald eagle and apple pie."

Ziva made a face at him. "I am happy with nuts."

Tony's eyes filled with amusement and fondness, but he couldn't make himself comment. Ziva raised an eyebrow at his silence.

"I just handed that to you and you are not even going to try to make a joke?"

Tony smiled and closed his eyes as he dropped his head back against the seat. "I can't. I'm too tired. But I promise I'm thinking of something really inappropriate."

"Well good," Ziva replied. "I would hate to think that I have lost you."

Tony lifted his head again and shook it. "I'll try to have a response for you by the time we land in Miami."

"I will certainly look forward to that."

He smirked and returned his attention to his newspaper. He turned the page and scanned the headlines, and then read an article halfway down the page. "Hunh," he grunted.

"Hmm?"

"You know how you said last night that it wasn't then end of the world?"

"No."

"You did," he assured her. "But apparently, it is. Saturday night's going to be a total fire and brimstone shower, and we're all going to meet our assorted makers."

"According to whom?"

"Crazy people," Tony replied.

"Well, they would know."

Tony read aloud from the article. "Expect volcanoes to erupt around the globe, mega earthquakes, tsunamis and floods, super storms and electrical storms that will wipe out power and telecommunications." He paused and glanced over at her. "We might have to put anniversary celebrations on hold, Ziva."

She picked at her nails, displaying roughly the level of alarm the news required. "Do you know anyone with a bunker?"

"Pretty sure Gibbs would have a hidden hatch in his basement," Tony replied. He threw back the rest of his coffee and handed her the paper before picking up her discarded cup and taking them over to the trash.

"Facebook groups have sprung up encouraging people to share details of the acts they will engage in that they would regret never doing, should the Rapture wipe out mankind come Saturday night," Ziva read. She folded the paper and handed it back to Tony as he sat down. "I suspect a lot of those acts would keep people like us busy if we were still alive."

Tony cocked an eyebrow and deliberately misunderstood. "Why? What acts are you and I going to get up to that'll keep us busy?"

Ziva attempted to give him a withering look, but the smirk on her face diluted some of its impact. "I meant law enforcement," she spelled out. "Arresting people for the depraved acts they will engage in."

"Why do you assume they'll be depraved?"

"Because otherwise people would have done them already," she reasoned.

"What if they're just too scared?" Tony countered. "What if they're stuck in a situation where they're not sure they can deal with the consequences of the act, even if it's a perfectly reasonable desire that would improve their quality of life. The only problem being that it would piss off someone else that they don't want to piss off."

Ziva stared at him for a moment as she took that in. "So...the caffeine has kicked in, yes?"

Tony supposed it had. "I'm talking about, say, an abusive relationship. Someone wants to leave it but they don't because they're scared of the consequences. They're scared that their partner might track them down and kill them, or kill their kids. So they stay in the relationship. But this would give them a solid gold reason to leave and have just one or two days of freedom before we're all reduced to ash by a flaming meteorite or something."

Ziva closed her eyes as she listened to him and rubbed her head. "So, you are saying that the Rapture this weekend will cause victims of domestic violence to leave abusive relationships in droves?"

It sounded stupid when she presented the abridged version. "No," he sighed in defeat. "I'm just saying that people won't necessarily engage in exclusively depraved acts."

"But they will be mostly depraved," Ziva charged.

Tony nodded, giving up completely. "Yeah, yeah. Sex and drugs and rock and roll. And a lot of running naked through public places."

Ziva snorted. "That is what you want to do to avoid regrets?"

"No," he chuckled. "I don't know what I'd do."

"Well, I may be alone in this thought, but I think you will have more than three days to work it out."

"Are you saying you don't believe the hard evidence reported in this highly reputable newspaper?" he asked, shaking the tabloid at her.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I will take my chances and make plans for Sunday."

A voice over the PA system announced that boarding was commencing for their flight. Ziva stood and turned off her cell phone, and when Tony reached for his she assumed he was doing the same. When she had to wait for more than five seconds she frowned impatiently at him.

"What are you doing?"

Tony looked up at her from his seat. "I have to call Gibbs."

"You didn't call him yet?"

He shook his head. "No. You go ahead. I reckon I'll be able to find you."

Ziva shrugged and headed over to the growing line of passengers forming in front of their gate. Tony stood and wandered over to the windows overlooking the plane, and then dialed Gibbs. While the phone rang, he checked his watch. At 0540, chances of Gibbs being awake and moving were pretty good.

Gibbs picked up right before voicemail did. "Yah?"

"Morning, boss," Tony started politely. "It's a lovely day."

Gibbs paused. "Whose car did you shoot now?"

Tony rolled his eyes. He was never going to live that down. "No one's. Just calling to tell you that Vance drafted me and Ziva to fly down to Miami today to pick up a witness—"

"He what?" Gibbs cut in.

Tony winced. "We're about to get on the plane now."

"You agreed?" Gibbs asked, incredulous.

Tony held on to his troublemaking tongue and instead gave an honest reply. "I don't think it was a request as much as an order that we couldn't refuse."

There was a beat of silence, and Tony could imagine the steely glare that was no doubt making itself at home on Gibbs' face. "When can I expect you two to rejoin my team? Should positions still be available."

"Tomorrow."

"Fine."

Tony could feel that Gibbs' phone was about to snap shut, so he called out to him almost before Gibbs was done talking. "Oh, and boss? We suck."

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed, like it was obvious.

Tony shook his head. "No, I don't mean me and Ziva. I mean all of us." He paused as he looked over his shoulder to make sure Ziva wasn't behind him. "We all forgot that yesterday was Ziva's citizenship anniversary." The silence he was met with was comment enough, and Tony nodded. "Exactly."

"Hunh," Gibbs muttered.

"Could you raise that with Abby and McGee before we get back?"

"Yeah."

"I told her we'd celebrate on Saturday."

"I'm not organizing a party," Gibbs began.

"And I'm not asking you to," Tony replied. Geez, how stupid did Gibbs think he was? "I'm just asking you to mention it to Abby and McGee."

"Yeah."

"I gotta go. My flight's about to leave."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs called, his tone softening to the one he used on Abby in particular. "She okay?"

Tony sighed as he felt another wave of the guilt he'd been drowning in the night before crash over him. "Yeah. She said she didn't expect anyone to remember anyway. And she seemed pretty genuine about that."

Gibbs sighed, clearly feeling about as much absolution from the comment as Tony had. "Hunh," he repeated.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Gibbs said, and then hung up.

Tony turned off his phone and shoved it in his pocket before joining the end of the passenger line. He felt a little better knowing that Abby and McGee would be on the citizenship celebration case, and hopefully they (well, Abby) would have an idea of what to do by the time he saw them tomorrow.

…

They were half an hour out of Miami when Tony finally gave up watching sports news to give regular news a try. His eyes wandered around the cabin as the segment loaded on his in-seat TV and landed on Ziva. With her head turned towards the drawn window shade and her eyes closed she looked like she was asleep. But she was completely silent, and that was enough to tell him that she was probably only resting her eyes. Ziva sleeping on a plane meant Ziva snoring on a plane, and that meant flight attendants frequently stopping by to ask Tony whether his "wife" needed a doctor. This morning, all the flight attendants had wanted to know was whether he or his "wife" wanted more coffee.

He frowned and looked out of the corner of his narrowed eyes at her. She'd been awake with her eyes closed the whole time but had not yet slit his throat with the laminated passenger safety card, even though he hadn't corrected two—no, three—flight attendants when they made reference to his "wife"? Geez, she must have been as tired as he felt. Or else she didn't even notice anymore. After eight years of hearing the same song, the "wife" lyric had sort of turned into background music. Still, he had to wonder: did she correct people when they referred to him as her husband? Did people ever refer to him as her husband? And, more importantly, why did his chest suddenly feel so damn tight?

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and rolled his tense shoulders (why did he feel like shooting another car all of a sudden?), and then stabbed harder at the 'play' button on his TV screen, urging it to hurry up and load. What he needed right now was some important current affairs news to take his mind off...whatever the hell it was on right now. Stupid Ziva and her stupid fake sleeping and their stupid undefined relationship.

The newscast finally loaded, and within five seconds it had Tony's complete attention. He poked Ziva's thigh over and over to get her attention until she grabbed it in her fist and said his name warningly. He winced slightly, more with anticipation of pain than in actual pain, and pointed at the screen with his other hand. The top news story was about a 7.2 earthquake in provincial China that struck overnight, leading to mass casualties and the demolition of several small towns.

Tony looked at Ziva, and his cocked eyebrow did all his talking for him. Ziva sighed and pursed her lips.

"Earthquakes happen all the time," she pointed out. "Every day. It does not mean the Rapture is coming."

"It's thinking like that which'll get you smited," Tony told her, before frowning at the word. "Smited? Smote? Smitten?" He paused as his thoughts went off on a tangent. "I once knew a guy named Smittie."

Ziva stretched her arms out in front of her. "Of course you did."

He gave her a funny look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ziva shrugged like it was obvious. "You were a cop, yes? All cops in America know a guy named Smittie."

Tony would have argued, had he not looked back at the news at that moment and seen the second report about a volcanic eruption in Iceland. His eyebrow went higher than before as he grabbed Ziva's wrist. Normally, Tony was a pretty rational guy with his feet on the ground. But this morning he found himself wondering, if even for just a second, whether the crazies were actually on to something this time.

"Ziva," he started, but she stopped him before he could get too excited.

"Tony, volcanic eruptions are not unusual," she said patiently. "Nor are floods or hurricanes or tornados or any number of natural disasters."

Tony heaved a sigh, winding her up. "If you are going to insist on being Little Miss Rational—"

"I am."

"Well, that's no fun."

She gave him that look that always made him feel like he should sheepishly offer her a bunch of flowers and an apology. "Acting like the world is ending would be fun?" she challenged.

Tony shrugged, and then shot her a charming, playful smile. "Think of all the rapture we could indulge in before the Rapture." He waggled his eyebrows.

Ziva smirked at the basic flirting and then looked him up and down. "Oh, I am," she assured him, and winked.

He grinned at her playing with him. "I really think you should come up with a list of things to do before Saturday," he told her.

She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice. "I already have one," she purred. "Washing, ironing, vacuuming, fixing that loose hinge on the kitchen cabinet."

He should have seen that coming. "You're going to spend your last day on earth vacuuming?"

"Cleanliness is next to godliness," she reminded him. "If the Rapture does come, clean floors might get me into Heaven."

Tony thought that over, and applied it to the current state of his living room. "Well, then I'm screwed."

Ziva reached over him to pick up the paper coffee cup sitting in the corner of his tray table. She made a disappointed face when she shook it and found it empty, and set it down again. "When did you stop having a maid come around to clean up after you?"

"When I realized it was stupid for a grown man with a one-bedroom apartment who is rarely there pay someone to come around and clean up after him," he replied.

Ziva smirked up at him. "So…last week?"

He returned her faux-catty smile with one of his own. "A few years ago," he told her. 'I'm usually pretty clean, but maybe I should clean the shower when I get home anyway. Just in case."

"You should definitely do that," she told him firmly. "But it has nothing to do with the Rapture."

The seatbelt sign dinged on above their heads, and a moment later the first officer came over the loudspeaker.

"Folks, you'll notice that the captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. We're coming up on Miami and if all goes well we should have you disembarking in about 30 minutes, just a few minutes behind schedule. We've got a pretty large storm system closing in on us that we've been racing for a while now, but it looks like it's going to catch up before we land so we expect things are going to get pretty bumpy. Make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened, and we'll have you safely on the ground in no time."

Ziva raised her window shade, and she and Tony both made small noises of surprise at the huge, black clouds outside the window.

"Hello Sunshine State," Tony murmured.

Ziva waited until a flight attendant had collected Tony's empty coffee cup before she nudged him with her toe. "How did Gibbs take the news that we would be away all day?"

Tony flipped his tray table back up. "Oh, you know," he said casually. "He told us to enjoy ourselves and make it a long weekend."

In a rare moment of gullibility, Ziva frowned with shock. Tony tipped his head to the side and gave her a come on look, and she rolled her eyes at herself.

"He actually mentioned something about perhaps not having jobs when we got back," he told her.

"That sounds more like him."

Tony followed the thought. "Which would mean that we could have a long weekend in Miami after all."

Ziva gestured out the window. "Storms," she said. "You will not have the opportunity to lie on the beach and ogle tanned blondes in bikinis."

She didn't see the sideways shift of Tony's eyes in her direction. "I prefer brunettes."