Tony watched as Ziva slunk off into the living room. She'd been giving him odd looks since she woke up. He tiptoed towards the kitchen doorway, listening just long enough to hear the tell-tale beeping of a telephone being dialed. Tony let out a frustrated sigh. He thought he'd been doing well. He had been trying all night (even though Ziva slept through part of it) to maintain an even balance to the annoying-normal-work-Tony and the serious-grownup-Tony.

He'd tried to learn from the McGeek Fiasco (as he called it) and eased up on the serious mode. He was sure Ziva was ready to kill him in the car, he'd been so annoying. Oh well. It didn't matter anymore. Ziva was calling for reinforcements. At least she hadn't asked Ducky about various mental conditions that his high stress work environment might have caused. Yet, he thought. After all, it had taken two 'discussions' for McGee to become brave enough or concerned enough to start approaching his colleagues about Tony's 'strange behavior'.

Tony didn't linger by the doorway. He'd heard all he needed to. It really didn't matter who Ziva decided to call, he knew who would show up. Sighing again, he pulled out two more plates. Even though he hadn't really anticipated the extra mouths, he was sure there would be enough to go around – he tended to cook too much food. He always figured that was better than too little and, after all, leftovers weren't that bad.

He snorted to himself when Ziva glided back into the kitchen. She was quiet, nearly silent, but Tony was more observant than most people gave him credit for. Besides, Ziva may not wear perfume, but honey-suckle hand lotion was just as odorous. He decided to let her startle him – maybe that would put her a little more at ease.

"Tony". He jumped, just a little.

"Yeah, Ziva?" Tony could make things easier on her, but he wasn't in a particularly 'giving' mood. She gave him another one of the 'odd looks' she'd been so generous with earlier.

"Why are there four plates out? I thought it was just going to be us?" Was she honestly being suspicious of him? What, did she think he'd decided to hold an impromptu dinner party at her place? Geez, this was unbelievable. Tony was getting fed up with this.

After all, Ziva wasn't just a trained investigator; she was a former spy and assassin. Tony knew he acted immature at work – hell, it wasn't even all an act. Sure, he played it up a bit, but he really was an easy-going, fun loving guy at heart. He just was more closed off and private than he portrayed. That was the key to avoiding penetrating questions. He'd learned long ago that if people thought they were getting too much information rather than too little, or even just enough, they would be very wary about asking personal questions.

But his 'acting' aside, surely that wasn't all Ziva saw of him? Surely, surely, she realized that while he could be immature at times, he really was 'all growed up' and able to tie his own shoe laces and capable of forming (and maintaining) a relationship that wasn't built on sex.

Tony quickly bit down on his negative response to her questions. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything. I'm just tired, is all. That's the only reason she's getting to me tonight, he told himself. All he had to do was remain civil until Abby and Gibbs got there.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva eyed Tony suspiciously. He was standing by the sink when she came back into the kitchen, but she could not tell if he had been there the entire time.

"Tony". Ziva smirked when he jumped – at least there were some things that never changed.

"Yeah, Ziva?" He sounded cranky. She frowned a little. Even though she hadn't been with NCIS for very long, she never expected the normally cheerful agent to display a temper. She frowned when she noticed that he had two place settings on the table and two more ready on the counter. Could he have overheard…?

"Why are there four plates out? I thought it was just going to be us?"

"Oh, oops, forgot I already set the table." Tony's goofy grin didn't seem faked. Nor did the way checked the table before he answered seem unauthentic. It was just an honest mistake then. Somehow Ziva was not so sure.

"The food smells good, Tony. It is almost done, yes?"

"Yeah, just about. I still need to make the toast. Maybe you could get drinks?" Ziva noticed that Tony had made no move put the extra plates and silverware away. Nonetheless, she made no comment.

Wine or fruit juice? She glanced at Tony, for the first time taking in how tired he looked. And he was being rather more careful with his right arm than his burn would warrant…

Ziva cursed to herself in Hebrew. How could she have possibly forgotten that Tony had been injured? Now that she thought about it, Tony hadn't said a word about his arm hurting since they left NCIS. Since when did Tony not complain about an injury? She remembered the fuss he made about his last paper cut – Gibbs had threatened to drive him to the emergency room if he would not stop complaining. Suddenly, Ziva was very glad that she had called Abby. Something was wrong with Tony, she was sure of it.

And Ziva had absolutely no idea what to do for (or to) Tony to make him better again. Fingering her Star of David, Ziva just prayed that Abby would get there soon.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony had just pulled the toast out of the oven when Ziva's doorbell rang. Only thirteen minutes – that was faster than even he had expected. Abby must have been at Gibbs' house – and, of course, Gibbs drove. Well, good, they could eat now. Tony had almost decided to stop stalling and just start dinner without the late arrivals.

As soon as Ziva went to answer the door, Tony grabbed the two 'extra' plates he hadn't put away earlier and set them on the table, then reached for two more glasses. Ziva had poured grape juice for her and Tony, but there was just enough for two more glasses.

Gibbs marched into the kitchen with Abby and Ziva trailing behind him.

"DiNozzo- " Gibbs paused, interrupting himself. He sniffed. "Chicken Alfredo?"

Tony grinned. Had it been any other night, he would probably have laughed his head off. Chicken Alfredo was the only thing that would do that to his boss, besides coffee, of course.

"Yeah, Boss, and plenty to go around. C'mon, it's time to eat, and I know I'm starving", Tony said, with false exuberance. He watched Abby glare at him from the corner of his eye.

"Tony, where is your sling?" Yup, he knew Abby would have something to say about that.

"We-ell", he started sheepishly.

"Ah, cut him some slack, Abby. He couldn't have made dinner with it on. Sit. Eat." Tony shot his Boss a grateful look as he and Abby joined him at the table.

"Gonna join us, David?"

"Right, yes". Ziva had been staring at them, as if transfixed, but snapped out of it at Gibbs' brusque tone. She seemed very off put by their unusual (to her) interaction.

For his part, Tony tried to behave as if this were just a normal dinner with Gibbs and Abby. They usually ate at Gibbs' at least once or twice a month. Tony had cooked a couple of times and, once, the Boss himself had contributed meatloaf. After that, Tony and Abby had made sure that at least one of them was there early to help prepare the meal – or they had take-out delivered before the Boss had a chance to really get a meal started.

They were halfway through the meal when Tony realized that Ziva had been unusually quiet. He and Gibbs and Abby were talking and laughing, but Ziva did not join in. A glance at his 'partners' assured him that they had noticed this as well.

A wink from Abby almost made him lose his appetite. He knew that look. It meant that Abby had a plan.

Tony looked to Gibbs. The Boss wouldn't allow a repeat of the McGee fiasco. Tony sighed, relieved. The Boss was here – he'd handle it.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs was halfway through his pasta when he saw it. Abby winked at Tony. Gibbs suppressed a groan.

As soon as she had gotten Ziva's distress call, Abby had began hatching a plan. Right now, Gibbs wished he was as ignorant as Tony was. If he'd thought the McGee Fiasco (although, he mused, it really shouldn't be called that – after all, it had worked) was bad, this one had him truly terrified.

But – here he stifled a sigh – he had never been able to tell Abby no. He looked down at his plate. He'd really hoped he would have been able to at least finish his pasta before it happened. But, apparently, he had no such luck. He glanced up just in time to catch DiNozzo's look.

It was that look – the one DiNozzo got whenever he expected his Boss to 'save' him. Gibbs shook his head – there was nothing he could do this time.

"Aw, hell, DiNozzo." Gibbs ignored Ziva's confused expression. "You're on your own here."

Gibbs tried to ignore DiNozzo's desperate one. He met with marginal success. Abby's megawatt smile, however, was impossible to ignore.

This was going to be one hell of a night.

** * ** * ** * **

A/N: Okay, please let me know what you thought on this one – I found it was a very difficult chapter to write. I have one more chapter, possibly two, to finish the story (hopefully to be up by the weekend, but absolutely no promises). As always, thanks for reading and please review!