A/N: I hope the next chapter is enjoyable. I've been struggling with it, but I decided to just post it already so I can write more! There is a lot more "telling" than "doing" in this chapter. My creative writing professor would not approve. Oh well!

Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed. I was stunned and so excited to get some feedback. And a special thank you to ZivaDavid-Dinozzo from whom I accidentally stole some "flying purple monkeys." Similar to the NCIS characters, I only borrow them becaues I love them, and I will have them home before midnight! :D

Consciousness came to Ziva slowly the next morning. She could sense the light of the sunrise peaking through the blinds on the windows, hitting her face in warm stripes. She inhaled rain-scented fabric softener on the sheets she lay between. She felt an unfamiliar warmth resting on her body. When a hoarse rattling noise made its way into her ears, her eyes opened. She did not recognize her surroundings. Her muscles tensed as her body's reflexes were deciding whether to fight or flee. The warmth around her body tightened. Just as she was about to lash out, she heard a familiar voice.

"Ziva? You okay?"

It was Tony. She was with Tony. Awareness jolted her into the present. She remembered the movie, the pizza, and Tony making her talk about what had been bothering her. She relaxed slightly and lowered her body the few inches back to the mattress. She felt his breath on her ear.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ziva replied, staring around the room. "Just a little disoriented for a second."

"Your pulse is racing."

Ziva realized his fingers were on her wrist.

"It is not," she argued stubbornly.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes until Tony asked, "Are you going back to sleep?"

"I will try. I do not feel like running this morning."

"Mmm. The Dinozzo charm in action."

"More like the Dinozzo laziness rubbing on."

"Off," Tony corrected her.

"Excuse me?"

"Off."

"Well fine then," Ziva huffed as she moved to get out of bed.

"No." Tony pulled her back. "The phrase is 'rubbing off.' Not 'on.' And you'd better stay 'in' this bed with me. It's not even oh-six hundred yet. Geez. I'm sure ninjas don't need as much sleep as mere mortals do, but seriously, Zee…"

"I cannot fall back asleep with you babbling at me, Tony."

He chuckled. "Even sleep-deprived and snuggling, you still have to pick fights."

"Shut up…What is 'snuggling'?"

"It's like cuddling."

"What is the difference?"

"During cuddling, you can ask lots of annoying questions. During snuggling, you can't."

Ziva smiled. His voice was sarcastic yet his arms around her were gentle. She rolled over to face him, pushing him onto his back and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Am I just a big pillow to you, Ziva?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Glad we're on the same page."

Ziva pressed a cold finger to his lips.

"Shh.Chalomot Tovim. Sweet dreams."

Tony took her hand and tucked it back under the blankets, resting it on his chest. They exhaled together.

When Ziva awoke the second time that morning, she could feel someone's eyes on her. Her own eyes snapped open as her hands balled into fists. Instead of the black, soulless eyes she was expecting, she saw green, spirited ones. As she took in Tony's whole face staring at her with concern, she lowered her eyes and tried to let her body to relax. Sensing her discomfort, Tony didn't say anything, but he felt his gut fill up with anger when he thought about the panic he had seen in her eyes.

A few minutes later, Ziva yawned and jumped out of bed. Tony heard her feet pattering down the hall to the kitchen.

Tony closed his eyes. Now what? Apparently, their bizarre night was over. He couldn't explain how it happened. Why had it been so easy to just sleep together, like it was the most natural thing in the world? Tony had always thought it would be natural for them to have sex, from all the tension that had built up over four years. But just sleeping? All up in each other's space? He didn't know what to think, so instead he got out of bed and followed her to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home," Tony joked when he found Ziva with her head stuck in the fridge.

"Don't you have any fruit, Tony?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Not if you can't see any. I'm overdue for a grocery store run."

"Hmmph," she replied, shutting the door. "Don't touch those!"

Tony looked up guiltily, holding a piece of bread he had stolen from a plate she had set out.

"I'm going to make toast!" he protested.

"No, you are not." Ziva swiped the bread back. "I am making French toast, and as you only have four pieces of bread left, we can't waste any."

Tony's eyes lit up at her words.

"Real French toast?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose this recipe is more Belgian than French. I learned to make it when I was doing an op in Brussels."

"Were you assassinating a chef or something?"

"Something like that." Ziva nodded absently, turning on one of the stove burners.

When they sat down to eat ten minutes later, Tony was pretty sure he had died and gone to heaven. He was eating amazing food with Ziva and her bare legs sitting across from him. What could be better?

When they were finished, Ziva went to the bathroom to change. She emerged looking lovely as ever, back in her green sweater and gray work pants.

"Big plans today?" Tony asked, handing Ziva her keys.

"Errands." She shrugged and then paused. "Um. Thank you, Tony, for the movie last night and…"

"The sleepover?" he supplied, grinning.

"Yes." Ziva tilted her chin up to him. He was startled by the vulnerability in her eyes. "It was nice to have some company after a hard week."

"No problem. McGee and I do this kind of thing all the time."

That got Ziva to laugh.

"So," Tony amended. "Er, whenever you need some company. I've got your back."

Ziva smiled at him and began to walk to the door.

"See you on Monday." She turned to face him.

"Monday," he confirmed, opening the door.

They stood staring at each other for a few moments. Ziva's eyes dropped to his mouth, and Tony suddenly had an urge to pull her towards him and kiss her. Yet, it was too much. Too much for both of them. Instead, they smiled and Ziva turned without another word and left.

After shutting the door, Tony immediately went to his bathroom and turned the shower on blazing hot. He didn't know what to think of all this. He hadn't had a platonic sleepover since…well…had he ever had a platonic sleepover? Never with a coworker/close friend/beautiful ex-assassin that he just happened to think about for most of his waking hours. It wasn't his fault, Tony thought as he soaped up, that Ziva had become part of his daily routine. NCIS had put her there over four years ago. She had been adamantly up in his space until she just became part of his space. When the team got separated after Jenny's death, Tony and Ziva had been working together for three years. At the time, he had attributed his misery to his sudden status as agent afloat. It wasn't until the team was reunited that he realized how much better he felt when Ziva was around. It was a strange feeling, so Tony didn't think much about it. He just tried to keep things between Ziva and him status quo.

It didn't work very well.

He started to care more about where she was, what she was doing, and how she was feeling. When he felt her pulling away, he reached for her. When he felt her get too close, he backed off. It was a delicate balance that he tried to uphold until Rivkin, and then Somalia, happened, and everything was shot to hell.

Tony froze, even under the scalding water, when he remembered Gibbs' words, "There were no survivors." His world pretty much stopped then. He hadn't been prepared for the agonizing grief that left him in a daze, unable to function. He hadn't felt like he was even living until he met Ziva's eyes in the horn of Africa. Then, so many chemicals shot through his blood stream that he would've fallen out of his chair had he not been bound to it.

Tony shut off the water and reached for a towel, trying to shake off his thoughts. Ziva had told him to leave the past in the past. Yet his thoughts were so jumbled that he didn't know where to push them anymore. They were like the steam that fogged his bathroom, pressing down on him with nowhere to go but out.

There was only one thing to do in this situation: have a movie marathon. After changing into sweats, Tony plopped onto the couch and scrolled through the movies saved on his DVR. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and willed his mind to stop thinking about Ziva. He didn't know exactly what he felt, but a couple hours into the movie he decided that when Ziva was around, he enjoyed things more, like sleeping, breakfast, and even watching movies.