A/N: So, only one more chapter this weekend, but I got one more in! That's the important part. :D Thanks for the lovely reviews last chapter. You guys are amazing. I can't believe the response this story has gotten. I seriously appreciate it. :)

A/N2: (This is the same chapter, but someone pointed out a mistake I made, so I wanted to fix it. :P)

Chapter Fifteen

McGee blinked. It wasn't that he hadn't been expecting the question; he knew Tony would ask it, or something similar, but . . . he wasn't expecting the question. "Tony . . ." he said softly, not sure how to answer the question even if he wanted to tell Tony about his feelings for Ziva – it was a question that needed way more than a yes or no answer.

Tony took in his partner's expression, the array of emotions that passed over his expressive face, and understood that he wasn't going to get a simple one-word answer. He nodded and patted McGee on the shoulder, saying, "You don't have anything to worry about, Tim." When McGee looked up with confusion written on his face, Tony shrugged. "I might not be the best at relationships, but I know how to read people. She's different, and it's not just the pregnancy talking. You should feel lucky. She wouldn't trust just anybody."

McGee studied Tony for a moment before nodding slowly. He could tell that it wasn't easy for Tony to say all that to him, because it was patently obvious to anyone that Tony had held a bit of a torch for Ziva in the past. "Thanks, Tony," he finally said. "That means a lot."

Tony gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "It's nothing. You're my friends and I want you to be happy. Never imagined it would be with each other . . ." He held up a finger then. "And hey, you better not take this as an opportunity to gang up on me." He paused, finger still held up, then muttered, "Crap, I probably just gave him an idea . . ."

McGee rolled his eyes. "We're not going to gang up on you, Tony." Tony glanced up at him and McGee retracted his statement. "Okay, so we probably are, but it's not like that's something new."

Tony thought about it, then muttered, "This is true," before lowering his finger and clapping McGee on the shoulder again. "Good luck, man. You're probably going to need it."

McGee's expression turned into a smirk. "Ziva's not as scary as you think. I've got her right here." He held up a pinky, his smile smug.

"Is that so?"

McGee's smile fell as he turned and looked down at an irritated-looking Ziva. He attempted a charming smile. "Hey, Ziva. I didn't really mean that . . . I mean, uh, of course you're not scary, but . . ."

"Give me your hand," Ziva said, her voice low.

McGee glanced over at Tony, who held up his hands and backed away, then back down at Ziva. "Uh, no?"

She narrowed her eyes at him even more and picked up one of his hands, playing with the pinky finger he had held up to Tony. "I could easily break this, you know."

"Oh, this is getting good," Tony mumbled in the background, a giddy smile on his face, while McGee looked slightly worried.

"But I will not," Ziva continued, lifting her eyes to look McGee in the face. "You would not be able to give me anymore of those wonderful massages if I did that." She held his gaze, her lips turning up into a smirk, as Tony muttered to himself.

"Okay, I am outta here. Keep it PG-13 over here, would ya?" He walked away, leaving Ziva with a disgusted look on her face before she turned back to McGee.

"Ziva, I'm sorry," he started, feeling the need to apologize for his behavior with Tony. "Tony just gets so sure of himself sometimes and I wanted to prove . . ."

He trailed off as Ziva placed a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye. "Tim. You do not have to prove anything to anyone." Her voice softened. "Especially to me." They held each other's gaze for a moment, then Ziva gasped and smiled, grabbing McGee's arm.

"What . . .?" McGee said, his gaze following his hand as Ziva placed it on her stomach. He waited a moment, then shared Ziva's expression of delight. "Was that . . .?"

Ziva nodded, beaming. "She had been fairly quiet this morning, but now . . ." She glanced down at her stomach, where McGee's hand rested overlapping her own. "She must know," she said quietly.

McGee looked up from her stomach at her words. "She must know what?"

Ziva paused, thinking about what to say. She knew what she wanted to say, how her unborn child knew the man who would be her real father was there, but she knew she couldn't say that. Not here and not now. She knew he felt the same, could see it when he looked into her eyes, but . . . "That she is safe," she finally said, her voice barely audible.

McGee nodded as he stared down at her. "Always, Ziva." She lifted her eyes to meet his once more and they shared an intense moment, as Tony watched from a safe distance away, not even looking away when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Hey," he said into the receiver, unable to take his eyes off the intimate scene in front of him. He listened to what the other person had to say, then said, "Yeah, I brought it up. All I can say is they better like kids, because I don't think this one is going to be the only one."

He had to hold the phone away from his ear to prevent Abby's squeal from bursting his eardrum.

The next three weeks passed without any further incidents between McGee and gossiping co-workers, though he stuck a bit closer to Ziva when they left at the end of the day. How much of that was to protect her from gossip and how much was because he enjoyed being close to her were anyone's guess, but Ziva certainly didn't protest.

The morning of the baby shower, McGee showed up before everyone else arrived, to help set up. Abby was going to be there with the cake in the next hour, but he wanted to get there early to make sure Ziva wasn't overworking herself. She had insisted she do all the cooking, even though he gave her a stern look and told her it was her party and therefore she should let everyone else pick up the slack, but she had bopped him on the nose with a fingertip and insisted she was the best cook of them all, so he should allow her the pleasure of making the meal. He had rolled his eyes and relented, knowing better than to argue with her. But that didn't mean he couldn't sneak in and check up on her.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, attempting to be as quiet as possible so Ziva didn't hear him enter and stop what she was doing so it appeared she was doing less than she actually was. Even before he closed the door, he had to stop himself from letting out a moan of pleasure at the aroma wafting its way toward him from the kitchen. He started in that direction, but froze when he heard a soft feminine voice singing something in Hebrew. The song made him smile and he continued his quiet journey into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks at the image he came across.

Ziva was standing at the counter, her back to him, singing as she chopped vegetables. She clearly wasn't expecting company, as she was wearing just an old tank top and some very short shorts and had her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head, but McGee found the sight breathtaking. It wasn't often he saw Ziva not put together, and every time he did, he found himself amazed at how beautiful she was, even without any makeup and her hair a mess.

Plus, she didn't appear to be wearing a bra. He'd have to be blind not to notice that.

Ziva suddenly paused in her song and straightened, having sensed his presence behind her, then spun to face him, her knife held out in a threatening manner.

"Whoa!" McGee exclaimed, holding his hands up and stumbling backward. "It's just me!"

Ziva lowered the knife and closed her eyes, letting out an exasperated breath. "You scared me, Tim," she muttered, turning slightly to set the knife back on the chopping board, as he walked around the island to join her in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I know I should have called you and told you I was coming, but . . ." He trailed off, leaving her to look up at him.

"What?" She gave him a dirty look. "You thought I was going to try to do too much, didn't you?"

"Well, can you blame me? You're not the type to shy away from work, especially when it involves doing something you love." He frowned down at her. "You're just getting so close now and anything could send you into labor."

"Which is precisely why you should allow me to do the things I normally do," she said, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Alright, perhaps not everything I normally do." She smiled up at him then. "But I appreciate your concern. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he responded, then glanced down at her exposed cleavage. "And thank you for that outfit. I certainly wasn't expecting that this morning."

Ziva glanced down, as if she had forgotten what she was wearing, then lifted her eyes to McGee's face, glaring at him. "I was not anticipating company so early," she said, pushing her way past him to head for her bedroom, pulling her hair out of the bun it was in and shaking it out as she went. "Why don't you make yourself useful while I am getting ready?" she called over her shoulder, turning as she entered her bedroom and poking her head around the doorframe, adding, "And don't hurt yourself. The next time I go to the hospital, I would like it to be because I am in labor, not because you sliced off a finger attempting to chop vegetables."

McGee frowned as he called back, "I know how to," the bedroom door closed against his words, "chop vegetables." He glanced over at the large knife on the cutting board, then down at his hands. "Though on second thought . . ."

Abby arrived shortly after Ziva stepped into the bathroom to take a quick shower, and only raised an eyebrow briefly at McGee answering the door instead of the guest of honor. "You're here early, Timmy," she said, handing over her purse as she slid past him, a large sheet cake in her arms.

"Think you got a big enough cake, Abbs?" he asked, taking in the box that spanned her entire body and then some.

She set the cake down on the island and spun to face him. "I like cake, and I know Tony likes cake, and I'm sure Ziva's not going to object . . ."

"Okay, okay, I get it," he said. He closed the door and headed back for the kitchen, looking up to find Abby studying him. "What?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Were you here all night?" He raised an eyebrow at her and her expression changed into surprise. "Not that that's a bad thing! I mean, what you and Ziva do is . . ."

"Have you been talking to Tony?" he interrupted her, and she gave him an innocent look.

"I always talk to Tony," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Abby. He . . ." He looked toward the bathroom and then stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. "A few weeks ago, Tony asked me if I was in love with her."

"And?" Abby urged, wanting to hear him admit it. It was one thing for Tony to tell her that it looked like there would be ninja geek babies in the future, but she wanted to hear it for herself.

"And what, Abby?" he said. "It's not a simple question, and I don't have a simple answer for it. It's not something I can just put into words."

"But you care about her, right?"

"Of course I do, Abby," he insisted, looking up and meeting her eyes. "Do you think I'd be doing all this if I didn't?"

"If you did not what?"

A/N: I like cliffies . . . :D