A/N: So there's a thunderstorm going on outside my window... woah, that was a loud one... anyway, I thought since I wont be able to sleep anyway, I'd write a new chapter to this. Also: the thunderstorm gave me an idea ;)

Chapter 2.

Ducky Mallard had never been one of those people who like to pry on other people's relationships. He had always tried to stay out of things that did not concern him, giving advice when asked for it or strictly needed, interfering only in the worst cases.

This whole thing between his best friend and the young Israeli on his team had slowly become one of those worst cases. They loved each other – something that had become obvious to almost every member of the team by now – and they just would not admit it, neither to each other nor to themselves.

Abby had wanted to help them along. Inviting them both over for dinner had not done anything – they had kept their distance all night. Manipulating them into working closer together had done nothing either – Who would ever be able to manipulate the two of them into anything?

The goth had failed in her quest to get the Bossman and Ziva together, so McGee had to take over. His approach never led anywhere though. Planting a little virus on Gibbs' computer and trying to get Ziva to help him only meant torture for the PC. It ended up thrown against a wall by Gibbs after Ziva had relentlessly – and without success – hammered on the key board.

Tony's plan had involved a movie night at his place with the whole team. Abby had left first, faking a migraine. After her, McGee had excused himself to pick up his sister from the airport. Ducky had been the next to leave, telling everyone he had to meet up with another M.E in the morning and he did not want to seem sleepy. Tony then called on his acting skills. McGee called him and Tony made it seem like something terrible had happened to one of his current girlfriends, which made him leave immediately. He had told Ziva and Gibbs to watch the end of the movie and then they could lock up whenever they left.

This plan had not worked either, since Gibbs and Ziva had no intention to finish a boring movie without the rest of the team, which made them leave right after Tony. The awkward tension between them might have been another reason.

It was now on Ducky to try and get the two of them to talk privately. His plan was a little more complex than the others and yet much easier to achieve.

ZibbsZibbsZibbsZibbs

Catching a case right before the weekend usually ended in an argument over who would be able to keep their plans and who would have to cancel them.

This time, everyone tried to make plans that could not be canceled, like doctors appointments or really anything that sounded important enough. Ziva and Gibbs would be stuck on this case together and all alone.

ZibbsZibbsZibbsZibbs

Ducky's plan depended mostly on timing. It had not even existed until the moment the case came in.

He had overheard Ziva tell Jethro that the victim had owned an old hut somewhere on the land. They initially hadn't wanted to go to the hut and search for evidence there, seeing as the victim hadn't been there in years, but Ducky saw his chance and set the plan in motion.

The first step was getting them to work on the case alone, which was quickly done when the rest of the team suddenly had extremely important plans for the weekend. The second step was to get them to go to the hut – the two of them, together in a cozy hut. This proved harder than expected.

They had no reason to go there and, even when Ducky had finally convinced them that someone should check it out anyway, Jethro almost sent Ziva alone, then wanted to go alone. It took a lot more interference from Ducky until they both finally got into Jethro's car and drove to the hut.

ZibbsZibbsZibbsZibbs

Once they were at the hut, it had already gotten dark outside. Ducky seemed to have had an excellent intuition – a thunderstorm started as they were pulling into the driveway of the small, romantic house, trapping them there for the night.

The old, wooden hut had not been used for years. However, the victim had had a ton of money, so everything was in perfect shape. Apparently, he had sent maids over there every now and then, to clean and check if everything was alright. Later that night, they even found some fresh food in the fridge, which came in handy. They had already found out that the victim had planned to stay there for the weekend, so he must have sent a maid to fill up the fridge before his trip.

The thunder started small, seemingly far away, which gave them some time to go threw the whole house, searching for evidence, without doubting that they could drive back to the bullpen later. However, the storm had grown stronger by the time they reached the highway, forcing them to turn back and stay at the hut.

Ziva instantly found her way into the bedroom, getting a ton of blankets in all varieties, and putting them on the couch in the living room. She then tried making a fire in the huge fireplace opposite the couch, which earned her the Gibbs-look.

'It's gonna get really cold in here in about an hour. I'd like to be prepared.'

He nodded and made his way into the kitchen to look for something that would qualify as coffee. The only thing he found, however, were ten bottles of bourbon, fifteen bottles of vodka and twenty-one bottles of rum. No wonder our victim died in the back alley of a bar.

Taking one bottle of bourbon back to the living room, he almost ran into Ziva, who had successfully made a fire and now intended to find something to cook.

This kitchen door is not meant to fit two.

'Bourbon?'

'Thought it would keep us warm. Found no coffee.'

It was her turn to nod as she let him through to the living room, and then went into the kitchen.

When she came back half an hour later, she had made scrambled eggs – about a ton of scrambled eggs, to be exact – and had assembled some tomatoes on the side. The plates looked very full, but extremely nice, and Jethro had to smile at the fact that Ziva had put so much effort in a meal that would only have to keep them from starving.

'Looks good.'

'Thanks. It's nothing, really. Our victim doesn't seem to be very good with food. Found two bottles of tequila under the sink. Alcohol is obviously more up his alley.'

'Did ya see those other bottles in the corner? Vodka, Rum, Bourbon. Remind me to have Ducky run a tox screen.'

'You could call him right now.'

'No service. House phone's dead, too.'

'So we'll tell him tomorrow. He's probably gonna run one anyway. After all, the guy died behind a bar.'

ZibbsZibbsZibbsZibbs

Two hours later they were sitting on the couch, facing the fire place that had become the sole source of light when the power went off. They were covered in blankets, but they were still cold. The bourbon hadn't helped much, though one glass never really did.

Jethro was filling up their glasses again, much fuller this time, and as he handed her hers their fingers touched for a second. They both breathed in abruptly, looking at each other for only a moment, then staring back down into their glasses.

TBC

A/N: Yay, the thunderstorm is over... hope I didn't jinx it now... and my internet is back! Thank goodness, I can upload this right now ;)...

I actually feel like writing a Covert Affairs fic now... but I don't know... maybe by the time I upload this I wont feel like it anymore...

Anyway... Reviews would be largely appreciated.