She had wrapped herself in his fluffy navy blue bathrobe, the sleeves long passing her wrists. Ziva had rolled the cuffs back to make brushing her hair easier.

The bedroom was dark and the hall dim, but it wasn't the light from the living room that drew her down the hall, it was magical smells coming from his kitchen.

"I still do not know how you do that," she said simply. "I think there is nothing in the fridge to eat, but you manage to make the most delicious foods." Ziva leaned against the door jamb to the kitchen, her hands tucked in the pockets of the bathrobe and her feet crossed at the ankles.

He turned, spoon in his pocket and immediately Ziva read a the telltale DiNozzo nervous glint in his eye. Almost as immediately, the glint was replaced by an appreciative and lustful glance as he took in the sight in front of him.

Steamy, wet, sexy woman. In his clothes. Relaxed. She was so relaxed that she hadn't noticed how crossing her legs at the ankles made the bathrobe spread and those same legs were exposed up to her high thigh.

Tony audibly swallowed before setting down his glass of wine and taking three quick steps to her.

In a display of chivalry, he quickly tugged the bathrobe tighter around her, finding Ziva caught between a light blush and a chuckle. "If you want to make it through dinner..." he whispered in her ear.

Ziva reached up and gently cupped his face in her hand, placing a kiss to his cheek. "My knight in shining armor, yes?"

He chuckled and turned back to the stove. "Zi, I know we weren't going to do big presents this year," he said, his back to her as needlessly he stirred the rice on the stove top. "But there's a little something I have for you." He gestured to a medium-sized blue box on the table-top. So maybe the day didn't go as planned; might not be too late to redeem yourself, DiNozzo.

Ziva eyed the package before reaching out and turning it over in her hands gently. Interesting, she thought. Too big for a ring, too small for a sweater. She pried the lid off with a thumbnail and frowned as she found a typical silver key on a keyring.

"A key?" she asked, pulling it out and holding it up slightly. Ziva watched as Tony's nod was the only reply. "To your apartment?" she tried to sound less shocked than she was.

Tony set the wooden spoon down on the spoon-rest and turned to face her. He leaned back against the counter-top and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not exactly," he said.

To anyone else, he would look relaxed. To anyone else, it would seam a casual pose. But to Ziva, she saw the tension in his shoulders, the nervous tilt to his chest. She saw the defensiveness to his stance even though she doubted he was even aware of it.

"There's not a lot of room here," he said, nodding his head to indicate his apartment. "And your place isn't any bigger."

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him as he paused to visibly gather his courage.

Tony cleared his throat and settled his eyes on a spot on the door frame near her head but not close enough to risk eye contact. "So, I know a guy who knows a guy," he chuckled nervously, "And he had a family emergency and had to relocated. Beautiful house with a huge yard and big garage. The guy - Mitchell – he's a contractor so the house is in great shape. Its this renovated old Victorian.... you've seen it – we jog by it on Tuesdays," he said to her.

"The green one with the beige trim?" Ziva asked, having noticed the house on several occasions and admiring the beautiful property. She had been shocked to see a for-sale sign two weeks ago on their run and equally shocked to see a large "sold" sticker across it the week later.

He nodded. "Yeah. Its got that wrap-around front porch. And there's this huge garden in the backyard. Mitchell's wife liked to garden."

"You are giving me a key to this house?"

He nodded.

"I see."

"Do you?"

Her dark damp curls bounced as she shook her head slightly. "No."

"I bought us a house," he said quickly, his voice barely audible.

Ziva sighed as her brain caught up with all the random pieces of information he was throwing at her. She closed her fingers around the key and held it fiercely in her palm.

She closed her eyes, unable to keep the tears from pooling unshed in her lids.

Mossad agents did not cry.

But right this minute she was a woman first and an agent second.

"Say something!" he said, flinging his hands into the air at her prolonged silence.

Ziva blinked, the tears spilling silently onto her cheeks and she opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. She shook her head quickly and cleared her throat. "I do not know what to say."

"Say I didn't totally just screw this up!"

"You did not," she whispered, stepping closer to him.

Tony met her half way across the small kitchen and tentatively settled his hands on her hips. "You're crying."

"I am not," she lied as she sniffed slightly and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her finger still clutched tightly around her key. Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head under his chin. "Thank you." She felt his body relax into her embrace.

"I thought about renting it out," he said gently. "But it just seemed stupid. I mean, I know I want to spend my life with you, but we haven't even..." he trailed off, not needing to voice their lack of intimacy; she was well aware.

Ziva pulled away and frowned at him and Tony immediately tried to backpedal. "We don't need to! I'm not pushing you! I can wait. You're worth waiting, Zi. I mean, I can guess at how amazing it will be when we finally do-"

She clamped a hand over his mouth firmly, stalling the rush of words. "You want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Ah. That. "Yeah," he simply said. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

Ziva slowly removed her hand and they stared at each other for a moment before she finally let a small smile sneak onto her lips. "You are braver than I, Anthony DiNozzo," she said.

"What are you talking about, crazy ninja?" he asked, frowning at her sudden comment.

"I have been trying for weeks to figure out how to tell you that I am tired of this 'in between' thing," she gestured to the two of them, "we have and I want to make things more – how do you say - permanent. But I was too afraid you would laugh and go running off to the next swimsuit model who came along."

"Weeks?" he asked, chuckling. "God, Ziva I've known for longer than that."

"It is not a competition, Tony!" she barked at him before rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath and slipped the key into the bathrobe pocket without another word. "Living together, hm?"

He shrugged, feeling her slid up against him and settle her arms around his neck loosely. "Its worth a try, right? And we practically live together now, right?"

"You do not have to convince me," she smirked before leaning up to silence him with her talented lips. When she had left him truly breathless, Ziva pulled away, grazing his lower lip with her teeth in the most delicate and erotic of fashions. "Turn the heat off under the rice," she whispered, her finger tracing his jaw line.

Tony swallowed as he watched her turn and leave the kitchen. "But dinner's almost done," he managed to eek out. Smooth, DiNozzo. Smooth.

"Your present is in here," she called over her shoulder as she sauntered towards his bedroom.

Tony watched as she untied the bathrobe belt, letting it drop to the floor as she walked down the hall. He almost swallowed his tongue as he saw her slide the bathrobe down her bare shoulders before rounding the door to the bedroom.

The buzzing sound in his ears almost drowned out the sound of her voice as she called across the apartment: "What are you waiting for, DiNozzo? Do you want to wait till next year for this present?"

"No no no!" he said, barely remembering to flick the heat off under the rice as he wandered down his hallway in a daze.

His brain rushing in a million different directions, seemed to converge on one thought before he rounded the corner to his bedroom: February might be a good time to give her that diamond ring in your sock-drawer.