Chapter 11: Awkward No More

Disclaimer: Yeah, if it were mine it wouldn't have gone down the way it did. It would have been happier, but it's not mine so...

A/N: They they just go to eat in this chapter, the next one will be Tony and Ziva again, then Gibbs and McGee.

But this is the dinner, because I didn't write a lunch.

Tony's P.O.V.

I woke up feeling refreshed, hungry and...not tired. But mostly hungry.

At first, I was a little confused when I woke up and felt the weight of another human on top of me. Then I was a lot confused when I saw who that human was. It took me a few seconds to remember why Ziva was lying on top of me, when I did remember, I laughed.

My laugh was, apparently, louder than I though, because, ever so lightly, Ziva began to stir. "What time is it?" she asked groggily, barely lifting her head off my chest.

I chuckled a little at her, then looked over at the clock. "It's ten 'til six, Ziva," I replied.

She climbed off me, yawned and stretched. She might not have meant for it to appear that way, but when she stretched, she looked so seductive that I nearly tackled her, then and there.

She stood up and looked at me, she was so beautiful...and she is talking...to me...and I wasn't listening. Damn, I'm going to have to ask her to repeat herself...that'll look good.

Excuse me, Ziva, I was so distracted by your undefinable hotness that I didn't hear a word you said. Could you please repeat yourself?

That wouldn't fly.

Oh,crap, now she's looking at me like she expects an answer. What am I gonna say? What's she talking about? How does my hair look?

Focus, DiNozzo. Be a man.

"Huh?" I said, shaking my head.

She closed her eyes in mild frustration, "You were not even listening, were you?"

Truth, DiNozzo, go with the truth.

"No."

She groaned and turned away, marching into the bathroom.

For future reference: Truth Bad.

I went over to the bathroom door and knocked, "Ziva, I'm...sorry I wasn't listening. I was just really...hungry," I pleaded.

"Tony, go away," she called back.

"Ziva, please," I begged.

"Tony...I am trying to use the bathroom," she sighed.

"Oh," I said shortly, returning to my seat on the bed.

Real smooth, DiNozzo, real smooth.

Ziva came back out, looked at me and shook her head. She sat down in the chair of the desk at the foot of the bed.

"I'm hungry," she said, looking at me.

"Me, too."

"Let's go eat dinner."

"Got any place in mind?"

"Tony, I don't have any of this place anywhere in my mind."

"I'll call down to the front desk, see what they recommend."

She nodded.

I picked up the phone and called down to the front desk, Brent answered.

"Front desk, this is Brent."

"Brent, this is Tony DiNozzo-"

"Is there sumthin' wrong, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"No, no, everything's fine. We were just wondering if you knew of any good places to eat?"

"Wat'cha got in mind?"

"Anything."

"Lemme think. There's a good Mexican place on Beebe-Capps, there's Doc's Grill, and a new pizza place, or if you just want generic food, there's a Chili's on Race, in front of Lowe's."

"Let me see," I put my hand over the receiver and turned to Ziva, "Do you want Mexican food or pizza or what?"

"Whatever you want," she replied.

"Well..." I said, grinning suggestively.

"You know what I mean, Tony."

"Mexican, it is," I went back to the phone conversation, "Tell me how to get to the Mexican restaurant."

"It's on Beebe-Capps, it's called Casa Brava. It's across Beebe-Capps from the Harding athletic complex and across Santa Fe from Popeye's."

"You're going to have to give me specifics, Brent. I've never been here before."

"I've got an idea. I'll print off a map and you can come by and get it as y'all leave."

"That's a great idea, best idea I've heard all day."

I hung up the phone and turned back to Ziva, "Ready to go?"

"I am," she said, looking me over, "but aren't you going to do something about your hair?"

I ran to the bathroom to check my appearance.

Ziva's P.O.V.

I slept very comfortably and happily, until the booming sound of laughter shook me from my slumber.

It took me a moment to realize where I was, a hotel room in Searcy, Arkansas...that much was easy. But why was I lying on top of someone, and why did it feel so comfortable?

Then the events of earlier in the afternoon hit me and I remembered who it was I was on top of. Tony.

I lifted my head up off his chest, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his embrace, and asked him what time it was. My voice sounded more tired than I felt.

He told me that it was 5:50, so I decided to get up. I climbed off of him and sat on the edge of the bed. I yawned and took a little glance over to make sure he was watching me. When saw that he was, I stretched intentionally overly, being sure that my shirt lifted over my stomach just slightly. He was staring, I had him in the palm of my hand.

I stood up and turned back to him, and said, "I'm really hungry. I think we should probably get ready and go out to set some dinner. Do you want to go now, Tony?"

I should have known by looking at him that he was not listening.

"Huh?" he said, shaking his head like a puppy when you play with it's ears...speaking of ears, Tony's are very cute. No, wait. No. Focus, Ziva.

I had to act frustrated, so I closed my eyes and said, "You were not even listening, were you?"

He looked up at me, dumbstruck, "No."

I knew I couldn't hold out, he was so cute and funny, lying there like that. I was about to begin laughing.

I groaned and quickly walked to the bathroom.

When I got to the bathroom, I sat on the lid of the toilet, still trying not to laugh at just the thought of Tony's handsomely clueless face.

Then I heard him knock on the door, " Ziva, I'm...sorry I wasn't listening. I was just really...hungry."

Hungry for what? No, no. Bad, Ziva. Do not fall for him now. Not here. Look tough.

I couldn't talk to him without laughing, "Tony, go away."

"Ziva, please," he begged, the way I could manipulate him was so funny.

"Tony...I am trying to use the bathroom," I lied.

"Oh," he said, and I heard him walk away.

He was so funny and cute...and wonderful...no, no, no. This is work. You have to stay focused. There will be time for Tony when you get back to D.C..

But what if there isn't time, what if something happens to one of us, what if gasp he found someone else?!

I was being irrational.

When I came out of the bathroom, composure regained for the moment, Tony was setting on the bed. I sat down at the desk chair near the foot of the bed and glared at him, "I'm hungry."

"Me, too."

"Let's go eat dinner."

"Got any place in mind?"

Why on earth would I have any place in this town in mind? I barely know any places in Washington, and I have lived there for three years! "Tony, I don't have any of this place anywhere in my mind," I replied.

"I'll call down to the front desk, see what they recommend," he suggested.

I nodded, duh. Anthony DiNozzo: World-Class Detective and Super Genius.

He picked up the phone and called down to the front desk. I studied his face as he talked. He had a very handsome profile.

"Brent, this is Tony DiNozzo-...No, no, everything's fine. We were just wondering if you knew of any good places to eat?...Anything...Let me see," he covered up the receiver and turned to me,

"Do you want Mexican food or pizza or what?"

"Whatever you want," I replied, not thinking through how those words could be taken out of context against me.

"Well..." he grinned suggestively, he had done it.

"You know what I mean, Tony," I tried to sound agitated, but really I just wanted to tackle him right then. Forget dinner.

"Mexican, it is," he turned back to the phone conversation, "Tell me how to get to the Mexican restaurant...You're going to have to give me specifics, Brent. I've never been here before...That's a great idea, best idea I've heard all day."

That does not sound good.

He hung up the phone and looked at me, "Ready to go?"

"I am," I said, looking Tony up and down, "but aren't you going to do something about your hair?"

He ran to the bathroom to look at his reflection, I finally got to laugh. His hair looked fine, I had just used that as a cover-up for looking him over. Because otherwise, I think, what I was doing would be considered 'checking out'...and we all know that Tony doesn't need that much of an ego boost.

Tony's P.O.V.

I don't know what Ziva was talking about, my hair looked great...as it does the vast majority of the time. Then it dawned on me, oh...she was teasing me...well, well, well, Miss David, it looks like the DiNozzo magic has finally cracked you. Time for the wizard of women to put a move on our little Mossad badass chica.

I fixed my hair so that it was even more perfect, yes, that is possible, and walked out of the bathroom looking cool. She was standing next to the bed with a smirk on her face, I shot her an annoyed look and picked the keys up off the table, "Let's go eat."...I have a mastering command of the English language that is envied by romance novelists the world over...in case you couldn't tell, that was sarcasm, something that I am a master of...Ziva, too. We are the masters of sarcasm and maybe one day we'll both catch on and rule jointly, until then, I'm just gonna keep picking on her.

We walked down to the front desk and got the directions from Brent, it was a place called Casa Brava. I drove us out there, it didn't seem too crowded, so we went on in. They seated us in a booth in a shadowy part of the restaurant where I had a good view of a TV showing ESPN...and a pretty damn good view of Ziva as she leaned over the table to give me a weird look...why was she looking at me like that? "What?" I grumbled, not breaking eye contact with the TV.

"You put on more gel, didn't you?" she asked, smirking.

"Yeah, why?" I looked at her oddly, where did that come from.

"You missed," she smiled.

"What?"

"You have blue hair gel running down the back of your neck...it looks like brain-ooze," she laughed.

I reached around to feel if she was telling the truth...she was. I stuck my hand into a glob of viscous half-dried hair gel. That had to go. I excused myself and walked to the bathroom to clean the mess off the back of my neck.

Ziva's P.O.V.

After I had told Tony that his hair was messed up, he retreated to the bathroom. I thought he would be in there long enough to see that I had lied, then come out and gripe at me, but he didn't.

When he finally did reemerge, his hair was perfectly resculpted, sometimes he was so vain...I mentally slapped myself. I couldn't believe that I was falling, or rather, had fallen, in love with...that...thing...

He looked at me, annoyed, then picked up the keys. "Let's go eat," he is the master of the art of conversation. A wizard of words, sultan of sentences...I really like sarcasm. Its an art form.

We eventually did end up in front of a southwestern style building with the name 'Casa Brava' written in neon letters on the side.

We sat in a shadowy booth, and Tony's eyes immediately went to the TV...well, not immediately, first he looked down my shirt, then he looked at the TV. I decided to let that one go, for now.

That was when I saw it, when he turned, the light of the TV made it glimmer. I leaned closer to see what it was.

"What?" he mumbled, not even making an effort to look away from the TV.

That was when I knew what it was. It was a glob of blue hair gel stuck on the side of Tony's neck.

"You put on more hair gel, didn't you?" I smirked.

"Yeah, why?" he managed to break away from the TV to give me an odd look.

"You missed," I smiled, biting back laughter.

"What?"

"You have blue hair gel running down the back of your neck...it looks like brain-ooze," I wasn't able to resist, I laughed.

He reached around and stuck his hand in the gel, he jerked it back and looked at it like it was brain-ooze. He mumbled something then took off to the restroom. I sat back and smiled triumphantly.

Tony's P.O.V.

When I got back to the table, our food had arrived...and Ziva was eating off my plate...I...really don't...know how to feel about her half of the time. I mean, as we've already established, I love her, but...she drives me so crazy sometimes.

Then she just looked at me, all innocent like, and started eating off her own plate, as if she were completely innocent! Which she never is...that's one of the things that attracts me to her, the fact that, much like yours truly, Ziva cannot resist pranks and good old-fashioned one-ups-manship.

I started eating, and we were quiet...because we were raised not to talk with our mouths full. I am not a social boor. I retained some of etiquette school...like how to throw a jelly packet at the guy across the table from you without the instructor noticing. Or how to politely combine everyones dessert. Or my personal favorite: how to drop your silverware and eat your chicken with your fingers like a medieval...poopsmith...

I looked over and she had nearly finished off her food. Damn, she is my kind of woman. Eats like I do...only with less mess. I had managed to get salsa verde all over the table in front of me.

Knowing that this could be my last chance to return the favor before her food was gone, I reached across the table and began spearing chunks of milaneza off of her plate. I should have known that I'd never get away with that.

I actually got to enjoy one bite, but I was selfish and went back for rice...that's when it was on. After I had scooped up a hearty pile of Mexican rice onto my fork, she caught it with her own, and through some feat of physics that I could not explain, the next thing I know, I have rice in my eyes and a pea up my nose.

She laughed...a lot...she almost fell out of her seat...It was not that funny. I looked like a retard trying to dig the green, snot-colored pea out of my nose...in pieces.

I had to admit, she was good. If it would have been anyone else, I would have got them back tenfold, but I both fear and respect Ziva...mostly fear, so I let it go. Even though I'll probably have permanent sinus damage due to the projectile pea...I'll just make her explain that one to my doctor.

I offered to pay again, but she insisted that she would...viciously insisted. And, mostly due to that fear-thing again, I let her...Hey, I tried to be a gentleman!

When we left the restaurant, she was still laughing and I was still picking green pea-goop out of my nose...but it was a good meal, even with the...you know, the pea-thing.

Ziva's P.O.V.

While Tony was cleaning up, our food got to the table. I was going to wait on him, but his food smelled so good and I knew that he'd never let me eat his food if I asked. I had to take it now while he wasn't around. Unfortunately, he caught me. I gave him my best, 'I swear I had nothing to do with it' look and started eating off my own plate.

I couldn't believe that he didn't make a big issue about me stealing his food, maybe he has matured more than I give him credit for...maybe he's ready for a serious relationship...

Dinner was painfully, piercing, deathly, horrible, awful silent. Neither of us talking, I hurried through my food, hoping that he would initiate conversation. He didn't.

I was watching him eat, he was an incredibly messy eater. He had salsa verde dripping off of his chin and pooling on the table below him, I did not envy the busboy who had to clean up our table.

He looked over at my plate and picked up his fork. Then he reached over and took one of my last remaining pieces of milaneza. I decided to let that one go, he deserved it.

It was like training a puppy. If he sets, give him a biscuit.

Then he came back and got a heaping pile of rice on his fork. I decided to have some fun with him this time. I still don't know how I did it, but somehow the rice flew back and covered Tony's face an a little green pea got lodged up in his nose.

If the puppy pees in the floor, punish it...pees, how ironic.

I couldn't take it. I laughed...loud. People turned to look at us, then shook their heads. We were making a scene and I loved it. I leaned over laughing and almost fell to the floor. I finally stopped when my sides felt like they would tear open if I laughed anymore.

When I looked back up, Tony had his little finger buried in his nostril, picking out chunks of what I can only hope was pea...I laughed some more.

He said that he would pay. I told him no...I told him no ten times...I told him no loudly...People around us looked at us again, what do they think is going on here? I started laughing again, and could barely manage to hand the money to the man at the counter.

When we left, I was still laughing, who needs lungs anyway?, and Tony was still picking out green pea. This was the best night I had had in a long time.

Tony's P.O.V.

When we got back to the hotel room, I was tired. It was early, but I was still tired. Jet lag, being on a plane or in a car all day, and I was gust dog tired.

I went into the bathroom, stripped down to my boxers, brushed my teeth, because everyone needs good dental hygiene!, then climbed in the bed.

Ziva got in the shower and I lay in the bed with my eyes open, staring at the wall, as if willing it to become a window into the shower. When I heard her coming out, I rolled over on my side and pretended to be asleep.

She came around to the side of the bed in front of me and lay down. She rolled over close to me and I put my arms around her...oh, wait, I'm supposed to be asleep.

"Tony," she said, I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was smirking.

"Uh-huh?"I grunted, pretending to be half-asleep.

"You're pathetic," she said, this time she was smiling...don't ask how I know that, I just do. She was.

I grunted in agreement and pulled her close to me, she relaxed and cuddled the back of her head into my chest.

So much for awkward sleeping arrangements.

Ziva's P.O.V.

I could tell Tony was tired, not that I was not tired, but he seemed more tried than I felt, so I let him have the bathroom first without a fight.

When he came out he was in his Tony sleepwear, nothing but his boxers. I tried not to stare, it's nothing I hadn't seen before, but I just couldn't help myself. I looked him up and down, and somehow, he did not notice.

I took a quick shower, put on my pajamas and walked out into the room...how was I going to handle this? How do you get in bed with the co-worker that you secretly attracted to, without the situation getting out of hand?...I decided that there was no good way to come at this issue, from a professional standpoint. On the other hand, from a my-personal-interests standpoint, there were very few wrong ways to approach it.

Luckily, he was "asleep" and avoiding looking at me, so he probably wasn't suspicious...he's a really bad faker. I could show him how to fake being asleep...I guarantee that would be a red-light situation.

I climbed into the bed on his front side. Not able to resist, I rolled over closer to him. He put his arms around me...a really bad faker.

"Tony," I said, smirking.

"Uh-huh," he couldn't even fake a sleepy voice.

"You're pathetic," I smiled when I said that.

He gave a grunt in agreement, either he had suddenly became a better actor, or he really was tired.

He pulled me close to him, really close...At first I tensed up, unsure at what I should do to keep my cover intact, then I let go and relaxed and snuggled my head into his chest.

Awkward sleeping arrangements? Forget that, I was more comfortable then and there than I had ever been before.

A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter. The restaurants are all real places. When Tony was remembering things from etiquette class, those were things that me or some of my classmates did when we went to an etiquette class in the sixth grade.

The Poopsmith is from Homestar Runner. (for more on this go to )

The Poopsmith wants you to review, but he can't say that because he has taken a vow of silence.