She gets up, and walks towards him. She stops in front of him, for a brief second. She takes a step to her left, and puts the baby into her crib. She peers in the crib, at the sleeping baby, for a moment. She then refocuses on her partner, who is standing in front of her, in nothing but a towel. There was no way she could resist having a little fun. She points to the door.
"Go on. I don't want to wake her up."
He walks out of the room, she follows. She closes the door behind them, leaving it cracked, so they can hear the baby, if she cries. He stands in the hallway, and just looks at her.
"I should go get dressed," he insists.
"Why?"
"I'm just wearing a towel."
"I can fix that, if you'd like."
"Ziva, I don't feel like playing games, right now."
"Who says that I am playing games?"
"I know that I'm your partner, and that we are living together, and raising a child together..."
"And we have committed to not seeing anyone else for a while."
"And?"
"That is not going to work well, if you do not cooperate."
"What do you mean?"
"I do not like being frustrated. I am very cranky when I am frustrated."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not? Are you really telling me that you have never thought about it?"
"Of course I have."
"I am giving you the opportunity. I suggest that you take it."
"I... I don't know what to say."
"If I were in your position, I would say yes."
"And why is that?"
"I can make your life a living hell," she reminds him.
"You wouldn't do that."
"I wouldn't?"
"Ziva, what has gotten into you? You are not usually this manipulative."
"I am not used to... can you please just to this, for me?"
"You want me to have sex with you?"
"Yes."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"You're my partner."
"And?"
"I don't want to complicate things."
"Things are already complicated. We are living under one roof, with a baby. A baby that we have committed to raising together, as our own. How much more complicated can it possibly get?"
"Ziva I just don't want you to think..."
She cuts him off, "Whoa! I hope that you're not worried about my emotional status. This has nothing to do with emotions. This is purely... something else."
"You can't possibly need sex, that badly."
"Says the man who is standing around in a towel. Whose thoughts are completely obvious right now."
"I am telling you no."
"Then I'll leave you alone," she stomps off, into her room, slamming the door behind her. The sound of the door wakes the baby. She begins wailing. Ziva rolls her eyes, and comes out of her room. She stomps past Tony, and goes into the baby's room.
She sits on the couch, biting her nails. He walks up behind the couch, with the baby in his arms.
"What's for dinner?" he asks.
"I don't know? Do you have two hands?"
"Yes."
"Then make yourself something."
"My hands are kind of full right now."
She looks up at him. "Figure it out," she says coldly.
He huffs, and makes his way into the kitchen, with the baby in his arms. She looks at him, as he stands in front of the fridge.
"I know. She's grumpy."
"You better not be standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open," Ziva warns from the other room.
"So what if I am?"
"Then you will be the one paying the electric bill."
"You are crabby."
"And you're a needy, child," she counters.
He closes the refrigerator door. He walks out of the kitchen, towards the staircase.
"Where are you going?" she calls after him.
"To put her to sleep."
"I thought that you were hungry."
"I have other things I need to take care of, first."
"Whatever," she sighs.
He reaches the nursery, and pushes the door open. He places Emmy in her crib. He looks at the lethargic baby. She looks up at him, with heavy eyelids.
"I'm sorry we fight so much. It's just what we do. I am going to try and fix it. In order for me to do that, though, I need you to go to sleep, ok?"
She closes her eyes. He turns out the light, and backs out of the room. He quietly walks down the hallway, to the stairs. He jogs down the stairs, into the living room. He stops in front of the couch. His partner just looks at him.
"What?" she responds, with her arms crossed over her chest.
"I can't believe you."
"What are you referring to?"
"Is that what you would be wearing at home?"
"I am home."
"If I wasn't here?"
"What is wrong with what I am wearing?"
"Your NCIS sweatpants, and an NCIS t-shirt, to bed? Do you really wear that to bed?"
"Sometimes."
"I find that hard to believe."
"What do you want me to say? Is there something I could say that would make it more believable?"
"Tell me that you're at least wearing a thong, or..."
"No, I'm not."
"Granny panties?" he guesses.
"No. Clearly you know nothing about my choice in underwear."
"String bikinis then?"
"Not right now."
"What's left? Boxer briefs?"
"You're going the wrong direction.""The wrong direction? What do you mean?"
"Less fabric, not more?"
"Less than what?"
She scowls at him.
"Oh, commando?"
"Maybe," she shrugs, "I guess you'll never know."
"I fully intend to find out."
"Really, and how is that?"
"Can we just get this over with? Please?"
"No."
"No? You're the one who wanted to do this."
"I'm over it."
"No, you're not."
"Maybe I'm not, but I think that you are too scared to do anything about it."
"I am not."
"Aren't you afraid that you'll wake the baby?"
"Your room is soundproof."
"So?"
"I think that it will be ok."
"I..." before she can argue he grabs her hand, and pulls her off the couch. He drags her towards the stair case.