AN: Whoohoo, we've got internet (at least through next month)!
By the way, the puke thing is in here because my brothers forced me to watch 4 hours of a stupid show called "Hurl!" on G4 this weekend. I can't get it out of my head, so it ended up in here
"So...where were we?" Tony grinned, pulling Ziva close, his fingers walking across her shoulders, playing with the straps of her blouse.
"No, no, no," she groaned, shoving him away, "Tony, no, not tonight!"
He pouted, "How come? 'Cause we're in Gibbs' house? Worried we'll get caught?" he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye, "A little risk makes it all the more irresistible, doesn't it, Zee-Vah?" he teased, nibbling at her ear lobe
She sighed, sitting up and pulling the blankets around herself, "Yes, it does, but my answer is no. I am tired, sore, I feel like I weigh a thousand pounds, and any repetitive motion makes me throw up, and seeing as I take top, that would not abode well for you," she listed off her reasons all on one breath, "Does that sound very romantic to you?"
Tony shrugged, sitting up behind her, massaging her shoulders gently, "Okay, tired I get. Sore I get. But you don't weigh a thousand pounds; the only thing on you thats changed is your boobs are swollen, which hey, I don't mind at all-"
"Speak for yourself!" she huffed
"I don't I always?" he kissed the top of her head, "And if your queasy, just lean over the bed, and try not to aim for my shoes!" he joked, earning himself a playful punch on the arm
"You are not helping," she stated
"But you love me anyway," they both knew it was true. In spite of making a habit out of rubbing each other the wrong way, there was no doubt that the love between the two of them was stronger than ever.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled from the doorway, "Quit molesting her neck, and help me get dinner ready!"
"Bye!" he gave Ziva a quick last peck on the lips before darting into the kitchen after Gibbs
"Did you even read what Ducky sent you?" Gibbs asked, "Sex and pregnancy...it doesn't always work."
"Uh-huh, sort of figured," Tony replied, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with this conversation; definitely not a conversation he'd pictured himself having with his boss.
"Hey, do you want to spend the next eight months by her side, helping pick out baby clothes or do you want to spend it in the doghouse like I did?"
"You?" Tony chuckled, "Can't say I'm surprised. I mean, four wives, you must have done something to piss them off once or twi-" he felt his teeth rattle as Gibbs smacked him, "Right. So, no sex for nine months?! How the hell do you survive that?" he'd only gone a few weeks without being with Ziva, and it was already messing with his head. Every night he would dream about it, waking up in a cold sweat, greeting the day with a cold shower.
"Well, have you tried talking to her about it?" he suggested, handing Tony a plate of pasta, "Take that to Ziva, see if she'll eat. So far, all she's had today is crackers and ginger ale."
"Ziva?" he held out the plate to her, "Hungry?"
She groaned at the sight of the food, "No, I am not eating that!"
"How come?" he sat down beside her, eating her meal for her
"It is bad enough throwing up almost nothing, I am not going to start throwing up spaghetti!" several weeks ago, out of sheer boredom and far too much free time, Tony and Abby made a list of the worst foods to regurgitate. Among the worst were spaghetti, tacos, and Chinese food. They dubbed yogurt as the "best" food to puke. They'd emailed the list to a majority of NCIS, and the list eventually was forwarded to Director Shepherd, who put a ban on all non-work related communications via NCIS property, a ban which included blocking MySpace, YouTube, and all other "social sites" from being accessed by NCIS computers
"Okay, what do you want to throw up?" he asked, realizing a bit too late how stupid that question came out sounding, "Er, you know what I mean!"
She smirked, "Yes, I know. I suppose there is no "good" food for that, in spite of what you and Abby came up with." she stared out the window pensively, "I want chicken."
"That narrows it down..." Tony muttered, a bit too loud considering the glare he earned from his fiancée, "I mean, can you be a bit more specific?" he took his plate into the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator, "We've got Chinese chicken, chicken nuggets, I think there's chicken soup in the cupboard, what do you want?"
Ziva nudged him aside, checking the contents of the fridge for herself, "Hm, something spicy..."
"I thought you were nauseous?" he didn't like where this was going
"I am," she shrugged, "But I want something spicy."
"Even though you know what its going to do to you?" women made no sense to him, and that went double for pregnant women
She stared at him dangerously, "Is that a problem, Tony?"
"No! No problem!" he ran out into the living room, grabbing Gibbs' keys off the coffee table. He opened the basement door, bellowing down to the depths below, "Gibbs! I'm borrowing your truck! Ziva wants food!"
"Take your cell," Gibbs advised, "By the time you get what she wants, she'll have changed her mind five or six times."
"Alright...I've got the best buffalo wings in DC with your name on it!" Tony proudly presented Ziva with her food. She took the bag from him, her eyes downcast and bloodshot, "Don't tell me; I got the wrong thing? If you want, I can go and get you something else?" he offered, leading her over to the couch, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she lied, nibbling at one of the wings, "What are these?"
"Buffalo wings," he repeated, growing more worried by the minute
"Buffalo are like oxen, yes?" she eyed the food critically, "They do not have wings. I have seen them. And if they did, their wings would have to be much larger than this, otherwise they would not do much good."
Tony smiled at her, "No, they don't. They were invented in Buffalo, New York. Hence, 'buffalo wings'." he put an arm around her middle, resting his head on her shoulder, "Hey, what's wrong, sweetcheeks?"
She set down her food, still largely untouched, "My father called while you were gone."
"Oh?" he didn't like where this was going. Whenever her father was mentioned, she always either tried to change the subject or threatened him into dropping it, "About what?"
"Us. This," she placed a hand on her belly, "At first, I was worried that he would want me to return to Israel. But that was not the case," Tony breathed a sigh of relief, a bit too soon, "He does not ever want to see me back. It was...basically a half-hour of yelling and screaming, mostly him calling me a whore, and me calling him a bastard." tears were now flowing shamelessly down her face
"Hey, don't listen to him," he rubbed her tears away with his thumb, "You're four weeks along, and already a better parent than he ever was!"
"How could you possibly know that?" there was a lot about her past that she hadn't told him, especially when it came to her past and her family
"Well, for starters you've never called our baby a whore," he pointed out, "You've shown this kid nothing but love, and gone through hell for it. That's more than he's ever done for you."
She sniffled a bit, "Thank you. I am sorry," she dried her eyes on her sleeve, "I should not be crying like this. Hormones..."
"Yeah, I know."
Gibbs ventured out of his basement, now that Ziva'd had time to simmer down. He'd overheard her heated argument with her father, only understanding a few words he'd heard Ziva use only rarely when speaking with an exceptionally difficult suspect.
He didn't find her in her room, or hunched over the toilet, so he checked the living room, where he found her curled up sleeping on the couch in Tony's arms. Her plate of food, long since forgotten, lay on the coffee table, where their feet were resting comfortably. He smirked, whispering in Tony's ear, "I told you you'd end up sleeping on the couch."
Tony jumped slightly, careful not to disturb his sleeping lover, "Geez, Gibbs! How about a little warning next time?"
"Eh, but then you don't jump," he tossed an afghan over the two of them, "Takes all the fun out of it!"