That evening he shows up at her door in dark jeans and a button down shirt, a bag of Chinese takeout in hand. It is Tali that answers the door, bright-eyed and forceful when she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Tony, I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he chuckles, "Nice tan you've got there."

"It's a lot sunnier in Haifa than it is here," she informs him. "Want help?"

"Nah, I think I'll manage. Where's your sister?"

"Aw, you aren't just here to see me?" she teases as he slips off his shoes. They make their way to the small kitchen, where he deposits the brown paper bag.

He grins. "I'm just here because Ziva said she'd make those little doughnut things, and judging from the smell…"

"You owe me, you know. I had to watch Ethan for hours while Ziva made those. She was a woman on a mission this afternoon. She said she just felt like making them for tonight but, between you and me," Tali's voice drops to a whisper and she beckons him closer, "she only made them because she knows how much you love them."

"Are you telling secrets, Talileh?"

Tony's spine snaps straight and his eyes fall to the threshold of the sitting area. She stands next to the piano with a droopy-eyed Ethan in her arms and an amused smile on her lips.

"Sorry, I was getting him up from his nap."

She'd cleaned up since he saw her this morning, when he mentioned missing Ethan and earned himself a dinner invitation. Gone is the travel grime, the sleep-tangled hair and day-old makeup. She looks even more breathtaking than she did when he woke up at her side, if that were possible.

"Hey, Ziva," he offers. "Hey, little guy."

She moves across the room and around the island. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Can I?"

"I do not see why not." She passes the still-sleepy baby to Tony, who holds him against his shoulder.

"He's so warm," Tony observes in a low voice.

"And soft," Tali adds. "He's not so cute when you're changing his diaper, though."

"Where is Ari?" Tony asks.

"He got held up at the Navy Yard, he should be home in a few minutes," Ziva replies. "He told us not to wait for him. This is the food?" she asks, pointing at the bag on the counter.

"Yep, I hope the order's right."

"It smells delicious, I am starved. Tali, help me get out the plates?"

"See," Tony coos in the baby's ear, "you're getting me out of setting the table."

"He is being very quiet with you," Ziva observes. "Usually he is a bit fussy after naps."

"It's the DiNozzo charm. Not even babies are immune."

"Especially not babies, it seems," Ziva teases as Ethan looks up at him with wide brown eyes so like his mother's.

"Mmm," Tony hums, zoned out for a second. He raises one eyebrow at Ethan and receives a giant, toothless grin that makes his heart skip. Still smiling, the baby buries his small head in Tony's shoulder.

"Looks like someone's spellbound," Tali observes.

"I missed him," Tony justifies as he sits down with them at the table. "Is it just me or has he gotten bigger since I saw him?"

"It is not just you," Ziva responds. She takes a seat in a chair and continues, "I was hoping he would sleep just a bit longer so we could eat dinner, but unfortunately that was not in the cards for us… correct?"

"Hey, you got that one right," he appraises. "It's okay, I'll hold him while you two eat and then we can switch around."

"Tony, your food will be cold."

"If Chinese food wasn't made for microwave reheating then I don't know what was," he assures them as he offers Ethan his index finger and watches as the miniature hand curls around it. "He's strong."

"He's stronger when he's pulling on your hair," Tali informs him. "You're lucky yours is short, he goes in for the kill."

"I have been considering cutting mine," Ziva muses in between forkfuls of Lo Mein.

"You can't cut your hair!" Tony interjects. Ziva's head cocks to the side and an amused smile plays on her lips.

"I cannot?"

"I mean…" Tony clears his throat, "it's really nice the way it is, all… long and wavy."

"Is he blushing?" Tali snickers.

"DiNozzo's don't blush."

"It is okay, Tony. I will not cut it. But I appreciate your concern," she tells him through a still-smiling mouth.

The door opens then to reveal a grimacing older brother. He leaves his shoes on the mat and joins them at the table.

"Long day at the Navy Yard?" Tony sympathizes.

"You have no idea. I'm playing catch-up on everything I missed these past two weeks and the people that were supposed to be covering my work are totally incompetent so I had t—you know what, never mind. I'm just glad to be home. I'm hungry."

"Well we have plenty of food, courtesy of Tony," Ziva appeases. "There's a container of chicken in there for you."

Ari picks up a fork and digs around the paper bag. "Thanks, Tony. You aren't so bad after all."

"If that's all it takes then I should be getting you Chinese more often."

"Careful, Dinozzo, I am not so easily bought."

"I'll remember that."

They pass around Ethan and take turns eating until everyone has had their fill. Ziva then breaks out the doughnuts and watches, pleased, while Tony eats more than his fair share. He voices garbled compliments with a full mouth rimmed with sugar.

With full bellies they move to the couch in the living area. It is then that Ziva's phone rings.

"It's Nettie," she tells them, before flipping open the phone and raising it to her ear. "Shalom Doda."

"Your aunt?" Tony whispers to Tali. From a few feet away he can make out Hebrew rumbling from the receiver.

"Yeah, probably just calling to make sure we have settled back in here."

Ziva had filled him in on the details of her trip that morning, including the news of their aunt's impending move. She'd spoken of Nettie before, in the occasional story from her childhood. He seems to remember something about horses.

When Ziva spoke of her aunt that morning it was with shining eyes and an upturned mouth. He came to know the woman through her niece's words—loud, nosey, loving, welcoming. Warm. Somewhere in his memory he recalls an aunt of his own with a boisterous laugh and open arms—also his mother's sister. He had not seen her since the funeral.

As he listens to the flow of Hebrew from Ziva's lips he is reminded of this morning's conversation. He listened to her describe her aunt and heard the unmistakable longing in her voice. He listened while she described a cozy seaside cottage and the orange groves out back; the sun and sand that made her feel almost like a child again. He listened while she told him how wonderful it had been in her aunt's arms, how warm and safe. He listened and felt the unease swirl in his gut.

Two weeks was a long time for her to be gone, and he could not deny the part of him that, rationally or not, feared Ziva would never truly return from Israel. It is her homeland: where she grew up, where her family lives. She only left because she was forced to, and he knew both she and Tali missed it. With the threat so recently removed they were free to return. She loves him, yes, but she has a family to think about after all. Hearing her describe Nettie so longingly stirred that fear up again with a vengeance.

And suddenly it quieted, stilled and disappeared, with the news of Nettie's plans. Relief and happiness squeezed out fear and doubt as the one thing he worried would pull her away from him decided to move to his city. It felt permanent and he welcomed the security.

Back on the couch, Ziva turns to him with a smile on her mouth and the phone in her hand.

"Doda, I have someone here you might like to meet."

From the receiver, he faintly hears words he understands. "Zivaleh, why are we speaking English?"

"You'll see, Doda. Here." Ziva hands the phone to Tony who flounders, for a moment.

He covers the receiver and asks, with wide eyes, "What do I say?"

"Say hello!" She is clearly amused.

"Uh…" He brings the phone to his ear. "Hi, Aunt Nettie." He grimaces at how lame the words sound coming from his mouth, especially after the beautiful way Hebrew flows from Ziva's, but she gives him an encouraging nod.

"Anthony!" An ocean away, he can practically hear the smile in Nettie's accented voice. "Zivaleh has told me so much about you. I did not think I would become acquainted with you so soon! Tell me, how is she doing?"

Her words tug the corners of his mouth upward. "She's settling back in very well, Nettie."

"And she looks rested? Happy?"

"She looks beautiful," he assures her, eyes locked on Ziva's. He revels privately in his newfound freedom to say such things. "Even with sugar from our dessert all over her mouth." It is Ziva's turn to smile. She wipes the sugar from her cheeks and leaves them rosy.

"Right answer, my dear!" Nettie replies with a laugh. "You will keep her happy, I assume?"

"I'll do my best."

From the receiver he hears an accepting humpf. "Good. I will soon be there make sure of that, you know."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I do not like this 'Ma'am.' You will call me Doda."

He is grinning now. "Yes, Doda."

"If you do not mind at all, Anthony, I would like to speak to my youngest niece now."

"Of course. Great to meet you, Doda."

"And you, young man."

With that, he passes the phone to Tali and his shoulders release the tension he didn't realize had built up.

Ziva shoots him another smile, one of hundreds that night, and he knows he has done well.

Tali cringes away from the cool air as Ziva slides under the covers. Soon, though, the younger girl has cuddled up at the elder's side. It is pitch black and finally silent.

"He was fussy tonight," Tali observes in a whisper.

"Too much excitement for him this evening, I think."

"He and Tony get along so well."

Ziva feels a smile paint her lips. "They do."

"So?" Tali prompts with a gentle elbow in Ziva's side. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"About what?"

"Don't play stupid, Zivi. About last night with Tony!"

Ziva lays flat on her back, eyes fixed unblinking on the black ceiling. "I told you that I… told him."

"But I already knew you were going to do that and that's all you told me," Tali whines, nestling her head into Ziva's arm. "Please?"

Ziva shrugs. "I told him about Be'er Sheva. I told him everything." The last, hushed word comes out with hints of awe, as if she herself cannot believe she'd had the courage.

"And?"

She sighs, rolling onto her side to face Tali. Propping her head up on her pillow, she begins to run her fingers through her sister's hair. "He guessed a lot of it. With what happened in the basement, he guessed so much. He had come to terms with the general idea, but…"

"The specifics."

Though Tali cannot see her, Ziva nods. "They devastated him." Her voice is small.

"You feel badly?"

"The pain in his voice, Tali, his eyes… He hurt for me."

"It means he cares. Would you prefer pity?"

"Of course not!" she responds, and, upon realizing she might wake Ethan, softens her voice. "Of course not. It was difficult, that is all. But he understood things even I did not, and it helped me get some…"

"Perspective?"

"Yes." Ziva's fingers trace Tali's jaw. "He has a very big heart."

"And he loves you with all of it," Tali responds without hesitation.

Ziva's initial reaction is to deny her sister's seemingly wild claim, but the words never make it to her mouth. Somewhere they have been intercepted by the realization that this may not be so wild, after all. When she doesn't reply, Tali continues.

"Did you notice how comfortable he seemed tonight, not having to hide his feelings?" Tali wonders. "Do you know how many times I caught him staring at you like an idiot from across the table?"

"He did smile a lot. I noticed that."

"And so did you." With her hand on the younger girl's cheek, Ziva can feel Tali grinning. "I think you both like not having to hide it."

"Well, I cannot say I dislike it."

Tali's grin does not disappear. "He called you beautiful."

She feels warm. "I remember," she says softly.

"Ziva," Tali begins, her face tilting upward under her sister's hand. With her eyes adjusting, Ziva can make out the whites of Tali's wide eyes. "Ziva, has he kissed you yet?" The innocence of the question makes it hard to forget that Tali is only thirteen.

Ziva strokes her thumb over her sister's brow. "He has," she informs, "and I him."

"You didn't kiss tonight," Tali observes.

"We did when I walked him to his car," Ziva admits. "He also asked me on a date. Our first."

"You said yes, right?"

Ziva chuckles. "Of course I did. He is taking me to dinner on Thursday. We will do things… traditionally."

"I bet he shows up at seven o'clock with flowers, like in the movies," Tali imagines. "I bet it's a really romantic restaurant, too."

"He seemed to enjoy the idea of taking me on a first date. I believe he will… pull out all the corks, hmm? So I would not bet against you." Across the room, Ziva hears Ethan make a little noise in his sleep. "But that is enough for now, you need to sleep. I shall tell you more tomorrow, yes?"

Tali huffs, flopping on her back. "Fine." But any guise of annoyance falls when Ziva presses a kiss to her forehead and she smiles, ever so slightly.

"Sleep well, Talileh. I love you."

When Gibbs needs to talk to his agents, he usually beckons them with an icy stare to one of two places: the elevator, or behind the staircase to MTAC. The location will depend dually on availability and severity of the subject at hand, as he typically opts for the privacy of the elevator in more serious situations. For quick and impromptu chewing-outs, the staircase is usually sufficient.

But Tony is surprised on Monday morning when he finds himself pulled away from the bullpen and to the corner by the staircase. He, for one, has had his fair share of staircase talks, except this time it isn't Gibbs who has pulled him here. He fixes Ziva's brother with a frown.

"Something wrong?"

"No, we just need to talk for a moment," Ari responds, face serious. Understanding dawns, and Tony chuckles under his breath.

"Hey, I've seen this movie. Isn't this where you threaten me?"

"I believe so."

"If you ever hurt her, DiNozzo… that kind of thing?" Tony elaborates in a pretty terrible imitation of Ziva's brother.

Ari is fighting a smile. "It should probably go without saying that I will kill you, correct?" Sometimes, Tony notes, Ari really reminds him of Ziva.

"Definitely."

"Good. You know my background… Do not think I wouldn't make good on these threats, Tony."

"I never doubted it. I kinda already assumed this was the deal."

Ari gives in and smirks. "I just want to make sure it's out there. So we are clear."

"Got it. No hurting Ziva unless I want to have little DiNozzo-pieces scattered across the Eastern seaboard." His joking manner soon grows serious, however. "Don't worry, Ari. I'd never…"

Ari nods, still smiling, and turns to walk away. "I know, Tony. I know."

He does not show up with flowers, as Tali predicted, but even she would admit that cliché. Instead he wears a grin and a casual suit; his hair is neatly combed and face clean shaven.

"You cleaned up for me," Ziva observes as she takes him in with elevator eyes. Their playful flirting is familiar, but no longer as reserved as it once was.

"First impressions are key, Miss David." His eyes sparkle when he says her real name. "And you… Look wonderful."

She smiles despite herself, fingers playing with the hem of her plain navy-blue dress. She bought it almost a year ago for Thanksgiving dinner at Dr. Mallard's and had not worn it since. It is the only one she owns and had been loose when she got it, but now the material pulls tightly around her arms and torso. She hopes that her heels and hair will distract from that—Abby had brought over the shoes and Tali spent an hour straightening and styling her curls.

"Thank you," she responds, grabbing her wristlet and, with a small wave to her sister, heading out the door. "So where are we going?"

"How does Italian sound?"

"I like Italian." There is more than a little suggestibility in her voice and he chuckles.

"I was hoping you did."

The drive takes them to Georgetown, to an upscale restaurant with a valet podium out front. Ziva eyes him from the passenger seat.

"This is fancy."

He puts the car in park and hands the keys to the young man in a red vest. They get out of the car and walk into the restaurant, Tony's hand warm on the middle of her back. "And that's why I had Abby and Tali get you all dressed up."

Ziva takes in the silky tablecloths, elaborate place settings, and the sparkling chandelier. Around her are society's finest, dressed to the nines and laughing over a four course meal. She tugs on the bottom of her too-tight dress.

"You really did pull out all the corks," she remarks as the maître d' escorts them the table Tony had reserved.

"It's 'stops', Ziva. But like I said, first impressions—this is our first date, after all." He pulls out the chair for her to sit down, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Now you are just being cheesy."

"Maybe, but I'm having fun with it." He grins. "So, Ziva, right? Tell me about yourself. That's an interesting name. Judging from your accent I'd say… Israeli?"

"Very good, Tony," she purrs, letting herself play along. "You must be very well travelled. You said you work for the government. What is it you do that takes you all around the world?"

"Well, Miss David, if I told you I'd have to kill you. That's all I can say about it."

"Mmmm, very intriguing. I like a bit of mystery."

He breaks then, chuckling and picking up the menu. "God, I usually hate first dates. They always go just like that."

"Do you always convince your dates that you are the real life James Bond?"

He grins. "I would if they'd buy it. But nah, it's really just how… fake first dates usually are. Both people trying to impress the other. I'm not a fan."

"Well, this is only my third date ever, so I am not sure if I can attest to that."

"It is?"

"Possibly second. I am not sure that meeting Shmuel Rubenstein behind the playground when we were nine counts."

"Hey, a date's a date."

"I am pretty certain most dates do not end with a broken nose."

Tony's eyes sparkle with amusement. "He was the one with the broken nose, wasn't he?"

She shrugs. "He kissed me. I did not take kindly to that."

"I've kissed you and you haven't punched me yet. I should take that as a good sign, right?"

"Shmuel did not ask."

"Neither did I."

"You did not need to."

Tony nods, "Okay so that was date number one. What was number two?"

She shrugs. "A boy named Malachi when I was fifteen. We were in training together. We met on a rooftop somewhere, I do not remember where. I think I only did it to defy my father."

"Hey, every kid's gotta have the rebellious 'meet me on the rooftop' experience. You didn't see him again, though?"

"No. We only made out; it was not a big deal. But I came home late smelling of too much cologne and my father was furious. He could never get me to tell him who it was and I didn't go out with Malachi again."

"I'm sure your dad was terrifying when he was angry. Probably took a lot of guts not to give your friend away."

"I think my father was proud of me for that, in a strange way. I could hold up under… well, you know."

She sees anger brewing behind Tony's eyes and knows that, though she has forgiven her father, Tony never will. Luckily, the waiter comes to get their order and saves them from that particular avenue of conversation.

The food is great and the company better. She thinks they are there for hours talking, first over bread, then appetizers, then their meals. But Tony declines dessert and asks instead for the check, explaining that he has dessert back at his apartment.

"You can make dessert better than the chefs at a three star restaurant?" she teases.

"Trust me, my idea is more fun. Plus I'm suffocating in this place, all this pressure to sit up straight and use the right forks. And you look kind of uncomfortable in your dress."

"It is tight on me," she confirms, "I bought it before I began to show. But, Mr. DiNozzo, if this is just an elaborate attempt to get me to go home with you tonight…"

"You see right through me."

He pays the check despite her protests, arguing that if they are on a fancy traditional date then they should follow all of the fancy traditional customs. She acquiesces and a half hour later they are at the threshold of his apartment.

"I am very curious about this dessert idea of yours, Tony."

"Well I might have to put you to work helping me make it. What'd'ya say?"

"Good, I have been waited on enough for one evening," she admits as she leaves her heels at the door.

"I'll get the stuff out, you go change into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. They're in my bottom drawer."

"Thank you," she acknowledges, before turning to go into his room.

A few seconds later, however, a hand around her arm stops her. "Wait, Ziva." She turns to find his face only inches from hers. The moment is suddenly so delicate.

"You look gorgeous," he whispers, and the breath from his words warms her mouth only seconds before his lips do. Their kiss is brief and still steeped in novelty, but she holds onto it even after they've separated.

She changes quickly into a pair of Ohio State sweats and a white undershirt. The dress lays discarded on the bed as she observes herself in the mirror. The heavy makeup and product-laden hair seem so out of place now with the dress and heels gone, so she heads to the bathroom and uses a towel and some soap to wash her face clean. She then pulls the bobby pins from her straightened hair and fixes it in a ponytail. With a satisfied nod, the now-comfortable woman heads to the kitchen to meet her date.

"A waffle maker?"

Tony turns around and grins. If he notices the lack of makeup, he does not show it. "You've heard of breakfast for dinner, now get ready for… drumroll please… breakfast for dessert! AKA the best ice cream bar you'll ever have."

She cocks an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest and leaning up against the countertop. "Waffles and ice cream?"

"You can thank me later. I've got all the ingredients out for the batter. The recipe is right there if you want to make it while I get out all of the other stuff."

"What other stuff?"

"You'll see."

She begins mixing the dry ingredients and separating eggs while she watches him pool various toppings. Maple and chocolate syrup, sprinkles, bananas, whip cream, various types of nuts and multiple kinds of candy bars.

"I have never seen so much sugar in my life," she admits as she folds egg whites into the batter. He open and sprays the waffle maker. "We will have to do this again when Tali is here."

They each have two waffles, piled high with ice cream and toppings. It is certainly more fun than ordering dessert at the restaurant would have been. He had said she'd thank him later, and thank him she does, except not in so many words. She licks her lips free of whip cream and reciprocates his action from earlier in the living room.

Except this time, the kiss is not chaste and far from brief. Leftover ice cream melts into puddles on their plates that lay forgotten on the kitchen table. They move gradually from the kitchen to the archway to the living room couch. The cushions sink beneath them and push their bodies even closer together.

Their kiss is passionate but not frenzied. They move slowly against one another, pouring their nearly ten months of love at a distance into every movement, every touch. At long last they can love up close and their lips make up for lost time. They are warm and soft and unhurried, the two of them. Her fingers tangle in his hair and his in hers, once he pulls out the elastic. She wishes she had not let Tali put in so much hair spray, so it could be soft for him, but he does not seem to mind.

In the back of her mind, of course, are the years of less than savory memories that should be playing behind her eyes. But they do not, and she thinks it may be because of the differences. His lips are gentler, his hands are softer, and his every motion free of lust. And then there is her difference, because it is hard to draw such terrible parallels when her chest is flooding with love for the man in her arms.

His hands are on her hips now, steady as he kisses her jaw. His mouth never ventures lower but his hands do venture higher, lying under the loose t-shirt at the small of her back. They move back and forth, warming her skin, until suddenly they pull away and she feels his mouth still. His forehead rests on hers and she knows something is wrong.

"Are you okay?"

"We shouldn't do this."

She frowns. "Tony?" Her hands cup his face and push it back so she can see into his eyes. She does not like the guilt she sees there. As the skin at the small of her back cools she remembers the raised, red scars that he must have felt there.

"It's too soon."

"We have known each other for months, and you did not have a problem earlier…"

"I meant it's too soon… for you." He looks away and she straightens.

"That is for me to decide, not you."

He nods. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried."

"Why? I would not have let this happen if I was not okay with it. We are only kissing, Tony."

"Ziva, I don't want to push you."

She frowns, tilting her head to the side to catch his averted gaze. "That is what this is about? You are afraid you are pressuring me?"

"I don't want you to think that because we are together now that this is something I… require. You don't have to do this."

"I know that." Her hand slides down to the side of his neck, her thumb rubbing back and forth over his jaw. "Believe me, Tony, if I was not comfortable I would not be doing this. But I am."

"How far then, Ziva? How far do I push it? Farther and farther until I cross a line and bring it all back for you? I don't want to put you through that."

She relaxes back into the couch cushion, her hands sliding down now to meet his. "I think maybe we should make sure we are on the same page then, hmm? So we can avoid that?"

"Yes," he agrees, sounding almost relieved. She wonders how long he has struggled with this question of boundaries. For a moment it is silent as each waits for the other to start. It is Tony that speaks first. "What do you want, Ziva?"

"You mean with… intimacy? With you?"

"Yes. Do you want to have sex?"

She looks down at their hands. These are not usually thoughts that leave the quiet safety of her mind. "That is a… complicated question."

"I kinda figured it would be."

"I do, Tony. I do want to, as improbable at that could seem, after…" She shakes her head. "It is just not so simple." The inner conflict is unpleasant and she avoids thinking about it whenever possible. She does not like the mixed emotions—fear with hope, excitement with dread. They pull her in opposite directions and make her head spin with possibilities both good and bad. "Tony…" her index finger traces idle patterns on his palm while she drums up the courage to bare this to him. "Tony, I have been with so many men, but never once had I wanted to. And now I… I want to know what it's like."

"What it's like?"

"To be with a man I love," she whispers. "After all these years, I want to know. Perhaps then I can stop thinking about… that kind of intimacy… with such fear." She has little physical yearning for it, having only had a baby a few months ago, but mentally and emotionally are different stories. "I want to work toward it, Tony. With you."

"And what if it goes bad? What if it just makes it worse?"

"We can… what is the saying? Cross that bridge if we come to it?"

He gives a small smile. "You got that one right."

"I am learning," she asserts, giving his hand a squeeze. "Tony, you do not need to worry so much. I would not let things go beyond what I am comfortable with." She seals her words with a kiss, deep and promising their truth. His mouth moves against hers and she feels the concern still lingering in his movements.

"I want you to have what you deserve," he whispers.

"And I you. We will get there."

"You look tired, Ziva. Your eyes are drooping. Why don't you stay the night? Ari and Tali are okay with Ethan for the night, right?"

"They should be. Whatever happened to our 'traditional date'?"

"I think we threw that out the window when we came back here for waffles and ice cream, Ziva," he smirks. "I have to work tomorrow, but I can drop you off on the way to the Navy Yard if you don't mind getting up a bit early."

"I do not mind," she assures him. "I will just give them a call and make sure they are okay."

He disappears into his room to change while she makes the call and comes back out a few minutes later wearing much the same thing as Ziva. They go into the kitchen to put away the dishes they'd forgotten earlier and, once they have finished, head back into his room. They make no pretense of either sleeping on the couch this time. Instead, they slip wordlessly under the comforter of his bed, settling into the mattress with his arm draped over her waist.

"I am glad we talked," Ziva acknowledges in a whisper.

"Me too," he agrees. "Did you have a good first date?"

"Definitely. We should do it again sometime."

"Ziva David, are you asking me on a second date?"

"Perhaps I am," she murmurs sleepily.

"Well I'll have to give you a call sometime," he says with a yawn.

"I would like that."

And moments later, they have fallen off together into sleep.


A/N: Thank you for reading and for your patience! I hope you enjoyed this chapter- I made it extra long :) I've counted and after this chapter there will likely be 6 more plus a short epilogue. I can't believe we're so close to the end, I'm both sad and excited!

Million thanks to Prince-bishop, Roxy, EowynGoldberry, JerichoSteele, Licaro, Athenalarissa, J09tiva, theroseshadow21, Diana, mysticgirl101, Debbie, theBlueDragonWolf, ChEmMiE, amaia, AngGublerMorgernstern, VGlittlebear, priscious, ncisfan with tivafever, Mecha, lilyjen09, and a guest for the lovely reviews! And a trillion thanks to Tatiana for being her lovely self.