Ziva hated it. She hated fighting with Tony. He was her partner; it wasn't right to fight with her partner like this. Bickering was different. Bickering was usually either good-natured or easily resolved. Fighting and snapping at each other like this wasn't.

And what for? Because Michael was in the country? Because he was doing his job? Snap, snap, snap. That's all Tony did recently every time Michael came up in conversation. She didn't even know why. It wasn't like they knew each other. Yes, they knew of each other but that didn't mean anything. He should not dislike Michael this much. It was almost as if he hated him.

Was it about the killing of those terrorists? Because he was just doing his job. Not that America seemed to appreciate it.

Whatever it was, it made Tony unbearable to be around whenever Michael was brought up and she would very much prefer to be away from him when he was like that. Unfortunately, she had to work with him but she only interacted with him when necessary.

Well, at least it was the end of the day. She could go home and forget about work. Just relax. Something in high demand these days. Maybe tomorrow Tony would get under himself and be back to acting normal. Or as normal as it got with Tony DiNozzo.

Ziva was never so glad that she didn't live far from the Navy Yard. Them working late also meant that she did not have to drive through a lot of traffic. Small mercies. She was going to go inside, change into her pyjamas and reheat some leftovers. Maybe she would even read a book before going to bed though that might be a little ambitious.

All of her planning came to naught as she unlocked her door and immediately realised that there was someone else in her apartment. Mainly because there was a man's jacket on coat hooks. Obviously, he felt free enough to make himself comfortable though she didn't see any shoes.

Ziva hand her gun ready just in case (though what type of intruder made himself at home was beyond her). She rounded the corner into her living room, her gun pointed at the back of a dark head.

It turned around to show a very familiar face. She made an exasperated noise.

"Michael," she said in surprise.

"Not expecting me, Ziva?" He asked, the corners of his lips lifting up into a hint of a smile.

Which was as close to a smile as he would ever get.

"Surprised to see you? No. I saw you earlier." She replied. "I am surprised you are here."

She had never given him her address.

Michael shrugged. "The Ambassador gave me your address. Your father did not know it."

That was surprising. Ziva would have thought that he would have done the same and asked the Israeli Embassy if he wished to know. She certainly didn't inform him; he didn't need to know where she lived. Though he usually knew anyway. Not that she appreciated the Israeli Embassy giving her address out at all, never mind to Michael, but there were very few people who could deny the requests of the Head of Mossad. Anyway, her father was not the topic of the conversation.

"Would you like to put your gun down?"

Ziva blinked and lowered her arms, not realising that she still had it pointed at him. Eh, if she wished to shoot him, she would have done it by now. She really should have considering he broke into her apartment.

Michael just chuckled when she told him this. Of course, he would find that amusing. If it had happened to Tony, he would have been very alarmed and then find it hilarious. And then tease her about her Mossad skills. Which were well-honed and not there to be teased.

"And why are you here, Michael?"

"Like I said earlier, Ziva. For you."

That got him a sceptical snort.

"Oh, now you want to be with me when you are in America?"

No, she wasn't still bitter about that. No, of course she wasn't.

"You know that Mossad business comes first," he said reproachfully. "Or, have you forgotten?"

"Of course, I have not forgotten, Michael," she said coldly. "But it is common courtesy to inform people who you are close to that you are in the same country as them, is it not?" She didn't give him a chance to reply as she ploughed on. "And as the Mossad Officer in the United States, it is defined more than common courtesy to inform me of your presence. It is something you have to do."

None of this appeared to concern him as he shrugged.

"Things did not go to plan."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I am going for a run."

She needed to clear her head now instead of the relaxing she had planned. Turning around, she reached for her running shoes. She was distracted by her phone going 'ping'.

"Stay," Michael said, tugging her back.

"It is just a message I should respond to," she said but his fingers were already gliding along her skin.

He craned his neck to look at her phone.

"It is not your Boss, that Gibbs, or your partner or that McGee person."

Well, at least it wasn't work. They would have called her if it was anyway. But those weren't the only people in her life, after all.

She squirmed away from him. "I will not be rude. And then I am going for my run"

Michael sighed and leaned back on her sofa. Reaching across him, she grabbed her phone. Huh. It was Raphael. There was another Scrabble game planned in a few days. Yes, that actually sounded like a good idea.

She tapped out a quick reply. Hopefully work wouldn't be too hectic and she could go. It was the first time she had wanted to go in a while.

"What is this scrabble?" Michael asked, reading over her shoulder.

"That is rude," she chided, feeling a bit irritated with him.

Again, it didn't faze him. She shut her phone and held onto it, nor wanting to put it near Michael.

"You know what else is rude?" He said suggestively, standing up.