As they left for Doris's welcome dinner that night, Tony caught McGee by the arm. "Do not drink tonight", he warned.

"What are you, my mother?"

"Do you want to do something you might regret?"

McGee considered, "No.." he said slowly.

"Then do not drink anything tonight, I will not be responsible for your behaviour if you put your own arse in a sling. Clear?"

"Ah yeah, Boss, ah Tony".

McGee shook his head. What did Tony think he was going to do? On the other hand, since he was becoming Tony, maybe Tony was warning him of what was to come. Maybe he should heed the warning.

McGee was staring at Doris: Again. Every time she spoke it was like there was a giant spot light on her and everyone else just faded away. They talked about their lives, their hopes, their dreams for the future. They shared food and laughed at each others jokes.

Tony turned to Ziva, "Hi, I'm Tony from the planet invisible", he said holding out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you", she reached over and shook his hand "I'm from your neighbourhood. If we were undercover at the moment, we would be perfect."

McGee and Doris rose to leave, McGee retrieving Doris' coat from the back of her chair and holding it out for her while she slid her delicate arms through the sleeves. Then he took out his wallet and left enough money for the two of them and they turned towards the exit without a glance at Tony and Ziva.

Tony sprang from his seat, "Hey Probies"

They both turned seemly surprised by his presence. "Rule Number 12 , thou shalt not.."

"They're not commandments, Tony", said McGee dryly. "Besides, how many times did Gibbs himself break that one?"

"And look at the consequences," Tony pointed out.

"Tony", McGee was getting annoyed.

"Are you taking her home?" Tony demanded.

"Of course," McGee was innocence personified, "She lives near my place and she hasn't got a car".

Tony eyed McGee suspiciously.

"Ziva needs a lift too, she lives near you," he said pushing Ziva forward so hard that she almost stumbled into McGee.

"Fine", McGee retorted.

"Tony, I haven't paid yet," Ziva whispered urgently.

"I'll get it," he assured her, "Just go."

Ziva shot Tony an annoyed look then turned to McGee and Doris with an artificial smile. "Let's go".

Tony sidled up next to McGee. "You are NOT to set foot in her apartment."

"Fine"

In the car McGee looked back at Ziva.

"Hi there", she announced, "I'm Ziva, I will be your chaperon for the evening".

"How much will it cost us for you to disappear?" asked McGee.

"Drop me off at the club up the road", Ziva suggested pointing, "I'm not ready to go home just yet."

"Done"

Although it seemed like a good idea at the time, McGee started panicking the moment his key slid in his lock. It was judgment time. He took a moment to worry about what the bathroom looked like. Was there washing up in the sink?

He opened his door and the memories flooded back. His quilt was airing across the back of the couch. He had at least washed the sheets but they were still sitting in the dryer. He prayed she wouldn't ask why the linen needed cleaning.

"Why is your quilt there?"

Damn, he had to think quickly on his feet: "Its sheet changing day."

No, probably not good enough.

"Don't you do that on weekends when you're not working?"

He opened his mouth but he had nothing to offer that wouldn't make him seem like a perverted old man.

"Oh", she said suddenly, "You had to work last weekend, I forgot."

"Ah, yes", he affirmed quickly striding to the couch, ripping the quilt off and tossing it in the bedroom. He tried not to heave the great sigh of relief he was feeling.

Meanwhile Doris was prowling around looking at his things. He waited with his heart in his throat.

"What do you type?" she asked finally.

He cast his eyes downwards, he'd rather not see her response, "Ah, mysteries, a bit of poetry…" he dared to peak at her she was still staring at the typewriter.

"You are very talented", she said finally. He scanned for sarcasm but found no trace.

"I write a bit myself", she continued hesitantly, "In Word, rather than on a typewriter, my spelling and grammar need some work…"

"Really?"

"Oh yes, it's appalling"

He blink a moment, "No, I mean you really write?"

"When I have the time; it's quite cathartic".

He relaxed a little; they had more in common than he thought.

She turned to him. "I thought maybe we could watch a DVD together", she suggested "I still haven't got a player."

"That would be great", McGee smiled at her, he would watch anything with her. He didn't even look at the offering. Probably just as well.

"They only had 'Fried Green Tomatoes' left".

His smile froze, then he relaxed. Yes, he'd even watch that. He remembered vaguely something Abby had said about 'Sleepless in Seattle' and wondered if he had passed some sort of test.

Doris settled herself while McGee inserted the disk. He turned and considered his options. He should sit on the couch with her, of that much he was certain. But how close was an acceptable distance. While he was reasonably sure than leaping on top of her and ripping her clothes off was probably a no-no, no matter how keen he was to try, sitting at the far end of the couch clutching a pillow defensively to his side would probably send the wrong message. He chose a spot about two hand widths from her, he could still feel her body heat but she wasn't actually obliged to touch him.

She smiled at him as she sat and snuggled against his side, placing her hand on his leg. He tried to smile casually but he was sure his pupils were too dilated to pull of the look without seeming deranged. He swallowed hard and hesitantly put one arm around her. He felt like a teenager in the back row of the movies. Not that he was doing that when he was a teenager. Of course not: He felt like Tony would have felt as a teenager at the movies. She smiled encouragingly. He took a nervous breath and started the DVD.