Title: I'm Telling You Why

Spoiler: Season 10, You Better Watch Out

Chapter: 2

Tony squirmed in the passenger seat of the company car, crossing and uncrossing his legs and adjusting his hip holster.

"You promised no more whining if I cracked your back," McGee said, eyeing him from the driver's seat.

Tony grunted, "I'm not whining." He loosened his seat belt and leaned his seat back a few inches.

"You're squirming."

"I'm not squirming… I'm readjusting." He moved his seat upright and caught McGee's irritated expression in the rearview mirror. "Okay, okay! Maybe there's a little bit of the squirming. My couch is incredibly uncomfortable to sleep on, I'll have you know."

"Uh-huh."

Tony leaned back and looked out the window. He wondered if his dad was still searching for the roasting pan he didn't own. The thought of a "traditional DiNozzo Christmas dinner" was giving him a headache, as was the thought of sleeping on the couch for another few days. His train of thought drifted toward his own warm bed in his warm apartment with his warm girlfriend…. McGee's voice interrupted his daydream. "Huh?" he asked.

"I said, have you thought about just telling your father about you and Ziva?" McGee was looking at him, with one eyebrow raised.

Tony snorted. "I didn't even tell you." He furrowed his brow. "Not that I would tell you something over Senior… I just mean that… you know… we see one another every day. Well, not every day." He stopped for a second and thought, "No, actually, pretty much every day."

"You don't think your dad would be happy for you?"

"Of course he'd be happy for me," he replied with a chuckle, "Anthony DiNozzo Sr. is happy for anyone who gets laid on a regular basis."

McGee cringed.

"Sorry." Tony cleared his throat, "I just mean that… you know… he'd probably be glad that I'm not really alone in that apartment."

"So then what's the problem?"

Tony paused, rubbing his chin with his hand. "It means… actually having a real conversation with the man. Not so sure I'm ready for that." He suddenly realized that telling his dad about Ziva wasn't about divulging a secret that only one other person knew. It was about letting his father back in.

"Sure beats sleeping on the couch for two more days," McGee said as he pulled the car into the parking lot of NCIS.

Ziva sat in the passenger seat in silence, tapping her fingers against the window frame. She had known that the relationship between herself and Tony would never be easy as long as they worked together. They had made the difficult decision to risk their jobs, and she rarely regretted jumping in with two feet. Lying to everyone was not easy, however, and she felt relieved that McGee now knew.

"Something on your mind, Ziva?"

She looked over at Gibbs and shook her head, "It is nothing."

It was a few seconds before he spoke again. "Doesn't seem like nothing."

She shrugged and looked down at her folded hands, willing her brain to be still. "I am just thinking about the case," she lied. "I wonder how two people, such as the Huffners, can stay married when they appear to… hate one another so much."

Gibbs stared ahead, flicking the turn signal on with his thumb.

Ziva looked out the window and watched the buildings fly by as they neared their destination. "And further more," she added, "how did they get from their wedding day to… this?"

Gibbs glanced in her direction, "easier than you think."

She crossed her arms and leaned her head against the seat. As they pulled into Gillespie's Saloon, Gibbs turned toward her and put his hand on her arm.

"Hey, Ziver…" he said quietly, "it doesn't happen to everyone." He nodded once and opened the driver's side door, sliding out.

Later that evening…

Tony's eyes widened as his dad said the word "chill." Chill? Really? His gaze flickered quickly around the apartment, making sure nothing else had been opened or moved. The cookies and tree were nice sentiments, but his dad was making it difficult to hide the fact that he didn't actually live in the place. Senior must have gone out and bought cookie sheets and measuring cups, because he was absolutely certain his were in a box in the storage facility of his and Ziva's apartment complex. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Tony," came the voice of his neighbor.

Tony groaned and tried shushing his father. If he opened the door and she mentioned something about his infrequent visits home, he'd have to confess everything. In the movies, this is where things start taking a drastic southern turn, he thought.

"Who is she?" his father asked.

"She's the bloodhound from across the hall," he said quickly, in hushed tones.

As his father tiptoed to the door, Tony sighed heavily. As soon as Senior got a look at that woman through the peephole, it'd be all over. He rolled his eyes and thanked his lucky stars when his phone suddenly jingled. McGee's text said that they had found a body, probably Cannady's. As he shut the door behind him, he briefly considered how ridiculous it was that he'd rather be at work, looking for dead bodies, than at home with his own father.

Ziva toweled off her hands and looked into the ladies' room mirror. The words Tony's dad spoke to her a few hours earlier still rattled around in her head.

Beautiful inside and out… she was the love of my life, Ziva. I've never been able to fill up that void.

She was so lost in thought, she didn't hear the door open or the lock click. Suddenly, Tony was right next to her, wrapping his arms around her midsection.

"Hey," he breathed into her ear.

She closed her eyes as he kissed the side of her head. Turning, she allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. "Hey back." They stood there for a few seconds, his chin resting atop her head, her face burrowed into the nape of his neck. "Tony," Ziva started, "we should not be in here together. There are rules."

This was true; they had developed a specific set of rules for the workplace in order to maintain absolute secrecy. No canoodling during office hours was the gist of it, especially in the building. Ziva had later amended this statement to include flirtatious looks and "ogling" eyes (Tony had explained that it was called "making googly eyes," but she preferred the former description).

"And why do you smell like…" Ziva sniffed his sweater, "trash?"

Tony laughed, "that, my love, is a story that begins with trash and ends with McGee in a beaver costume."