Ziva grinned at Tony from across the bullpen, ignoring the throbbing pain in her thigh. The short dash across the parking lot a few minutes before had been excruciating, but she'd managed it with little to no observable discomfort. Gibbs had agreed that she could return to her normal duties the moment she'd come to a skidding halt at the front door of the building a full three seconds before McGee.

Tony glowered at her from behind his desk. "I can't believe you got approval to be back in the field before I did."

"Well, as I have no overt signs of injury – like, say, a cast – and I can perform at a level consistent with other members of the team…"

"You beat McGee in a footrace," Tony interrupted, adjusting his arm. "If that's the only fitness criteria, NCIS could recruit at the local old folks' home."

She walked over to him, mindful to control her still-present limp. She sincerely hoped her return to her former routine would involve more crime scenes and fewer suspect chases. Gibbs would give her a reason to go back to desk duty if she screwed up in the field. She sat on the edge of his desk and rubbed the top of his head. "You'll be back in three days. You're just upset because I won."

"I wasn't in the race," he pouted, running his hand through his hair to re-spike what she'd flattened.

"I meant that I got off desk duty first."

He finished arranging his hair and pushed his chair back when she reached out to touch him again. "Hmph."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just find it a little strange."

She slid along the edge of his desk, cornering him. "What, exactly?"

He eyed her critically as she ran a finger along his jaw line, feeling a few errant hairs he'd missed shaving. He caught her hand and held it still. "You can run but we can't have sex?"

"Tony…"

"No, I'm just wondering why one cardiovascularly intense activity is okay and the other involves a doctor's consent." His hand came down on her knee and squeezed. "You don't have a doctor's approval to be in the field yet." He grinned just short of maliciously.

"And this is going to matter to Gibbs…how?"

"I'm not saying it would." He tilted his chair back and looked smug. She rolled her eyes, but it was more for the benefit of Jen and Gibbs, coming down the stairs behind Tony's desk. He continued, "However, I'm sure it's a huge liability that Legal and Personnel and Director Shepard will be very interested…"

"What will I be interested in, Tony?"

He swung his chair around quickly and bumped Ziva's leg; she clenched her jaw and said nothing. "Oh, Director. I was just…uh…Ziva's not better yet."

"Gibbs said she's mobile enough to resume fieldwork. Was he lying?"

"Absolutely…not," Tony replied. Ziva had given him a sharp poke in the ribs to make sure he was just pausing and not stopping. "I'm sure she's fine if everyone is saying so."

"You'll be back to complaining about your workload next week, DiNozzo."

"Three days, actually, boss."

Ziva twitched with silent laughter as Gibbs smacked Tony on his way past. "The Director has a meeting I'm for some reason required to attend. Page me the second some one finds a body." He turned before entering the elevator. "Don't kill anyone just to get on my good side, David. And you two'd better not…" His disembodied voice was cut off as the doors closed.

Ziva turned back to Tony, who was again fixing his hair, presumably mussed in the wrong way again by Gibbs' slap. "Well…what do you think he was warning us not to do?"

"What difference does it make? We're not doing it anyway."

She fought to keep her temper under control. "So you're trying to tell me you're unsatisfied with our relationship?"

"Hey, I like getting head as much as any other man on the planet, but if you think that's enough…"

She decided to skip the most obvious counterargument about her own needs and try some flattering logic. "How long did it take me to cover the distance I ran?"

"Like, ten seconds, if that."

"Hm." It had been more like seven, but she didn't correct him. "And how long do we usually spend having sex?"

"An hour."

"Cut out the begging, foreplay and snuggling."

"Uh…" He looked at her like he was trying to guess the number she wanted to hear. "Well, a lot longer than ten seconds."

"Yes. Just give it a few days."

"Give what a few days?" McGee asked, coming around the corner into the bullpen.

"Mind-blowing sex," Ziva answered, not breaking her eye contact with Tony. He ran his hand up her thigh.

McGee ran to his own desk. "Where's Gibbs?"

"Some meeting with Jenny," Tony said, rolling his chair so he was directly in front of Ziva, with her knees almost touching his stomach. "But as long as we're talking about this, can I make a request?"

"You can make all the requests you want…"

"Sweet. I have two words for you then – metal bikini."

"…and I'll reserve the right to ignore them."

"No, seriously. Y'know, Princess Leia? Return of the Jedi? McGee, help me out."

"No." McGee remained at his desk, eyes averted.

"Whatever, Jabba." Tony gave Ziva a wink, brushing his fingers over her thighs as he rolled over to McGee's desk. "With Gibbs gone for the day, I'm in charge and I could assign you to run back and forth across the parking lot until you can make it in under thirty seconds."

"You should talk. You just stood by Ziva's car laughing at me. I had a giant rock in my shoe and I couldn't run right on it."

"Don't make excuses, Probie, just make time for the treadmill. You're looking better since you hooked up with the personal trainer, but you've still got a ways to go before you look good enough to nab an international secret agent."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, because you have the most impressive physique I've seen in all my travels." Her gaze was drawn to his lap – he did have one attribute she found impressive. Not the biggest, but definitely the best. She tensed the muscles of her lower abdomen, thinking about what they could do when they got home before remembering they actually couldn't. Three days. She was going to be up for it in three days, come hell or…a quadruple homicide.

She blinked and realized that Tony had something else, to which McGee was replying, "I have no interest in…" He trailed off, his angry glare at Tony quickly transforming into an alarmed stare directed at her feet. "No offense, Ziva, but I'm kind looking for someone a little more settled."

Tony unexpectedly sprang to his feet. "You think she just settled for me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Her father likes me, y'know."

Ziva limped to McGee's rescue. "Relax, Tony. I believe he was just saying that he doesn't want to be involved with someone whose car is liable to be used to fake his death. You mean settled down with a stable job and less than five guns in her apartment, yes, McGee?"

"Well, I'm hoping for a woman with no guns, but, yes, you've got the general idea."

"Oh." Tony sat back down and propelled himself down the central aisle between the desks. "Sorry about that. All my college buddies are convinced I'm lying my way into a marriage with some stupid rich girl I'm gonna dump once I've got her money, like I'm my dad or something."

She patted his head as she walked to her own desk. They'd gotten a message a few days before giving them the day and time of their dinner reservation with Tony's father and his fiancée. "We'll see how different you and he are in six days."

"I hope so." He bumped his chair against the front of her desk. He lowered his voice and said, "But about that metal bikini…"

"Tony…"

"You could have seen it last weekend if we hadn't watched The Sound of Music three times."

She frowned, not wanting to be reminded of her weakness. "That was only because…"

"I know." He hand moved across her blotter to cover her own. He returned her sincere smile before continuing, "Still. The metal bikini would be hot. Then maybe Wonder Woman…"

"Do we have to discuss this in the office?"

"Why not? Gibbs isn't here and you've already traumatized McGee with your dirty, dirty mouth that I love so much. I could send him down to the lab so we could have some privacy." In the time it took her to consider the offer, his phone rang and he scooted back to his own desk. "DiNozzo…yeah. Where? Uh huh. 'Kay. Thanks, Mulvaney." He spun around in his seat before standing. "Gear up. We're going out."

"We? Don't you mean McGee and I?"

"Nope. I mean grab the keys and let's get down to the truck. McGee! You're driving! Let's go!"

Ziva enjoyed the weight of her gun as she clipped the holster to her belt. "Are we rushing so by the time Gibbs finds out you've come, we'll already be there?"

Tony tucked his holster into his sling and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Something like that."

"It certainly explains why you didn't want me driving."

He kissed her cheek quickly as they waited for McGee at the elevator. "I get enough of the demolition derby during our off hours."