Tony's steps felt surprisingly light, which was odd because it wasn't like the box had been that heavy. He looked up as he stepped outside the building and blinked as snowflakes caught on his nose and eyelashes. "This reminds me of a movie. I bet you can guess which one."

To his surprise, Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "That is the sweetest thing I have ever seen you do."

"You mean make a movie reference to…" He tried to turn, but she was holding him too tightly. He said over his shoulder, "I just bought her a doll. Can you really not think of something else I might have done? Recently?" He waited for her to let go, but she didn't. He added helpfully, "For you?"

"This was different." She let go and started walking toward her car, so he followed.

"Yeah, different. We drove for an hour and came home today with an overpriced toy. The other…thing took a little longer and involved more…"

She interrupted, "Would you like to have dinner?"

"Always, but first I want you to answer…"

She cut him off again, "You did not like Delores. Ever. You had no reason to try and improve her life in any way. But you did. And she was so happy!" Turning away, she seemed to be speaking to her car as she continued, "You saved my life because you are my partner. That is different from what you did today."

Although he still wasn't sure he understood, he was smart enough to know the parking lot in a developing blizzard wasn't the proper place to try to continue the conversation. "So, what are you in the mood for? Because you might need reminding that it's Christmas Eve, so our options are gonna be limited, especially since we don't have reservations anywhere."

"I thought I could cook."

He tried not to sound too hopeful as he suggested, "Steak?"

"I will have to go to the market."

"Oh. Whatever you have in the house, then."

"We cannot make a meal of rice and black bananas."

"Was that your fruit of the month?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just meet me at my apartment in half an hour."

"No, I'll come to the supermarket with you."

"To what purpose?"

"I can, uh, push the cart. And split the cost," he added somewhat ruefully.

"No, this will be my gift to you." Brushing a hand through the snow that had collected on her windshield, she frowned. "Perhaps you could stop at the liquor store to save me the trip." He appreciated the view as she leaned into her car to write something on a piece of paper, which she then handed him along with some bills. "This should go well with steak."

"And if they don't have this?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to hand back the money.

"Use your judgment."

His judgment led to the wine she'd asked for plus three others he liked and a bottle of champagne. He told himself it was just so they'd have options, as opposed to a reason to come over for more than one meal at some point in the future. Plus, they might be happening sooner rather than later if the snow didn't let up. He wondered if he should call her at the supermarket to remind her to pick up food that would last for more than just the night. She would probably take it wrong, maybe tell him to just go home if he was so worried about the weather. He left his unexpected-three-night-call-out bag in the trunk, in spite of the fact that the snow was already two inches deep in the street when he parked in front of her building. She could invite him to stay if she noticed that it was getting far too dangerous to drive, especially after sharing a bottle of wine. Or two. And some champagne.

Definitely too dangerous to drive. Because of the snow.

He thought it was strange that there were no footprints in the snow leading to the front door. Looking up and down the street, he realized that he didn't see Ziva's car anywhere. Emergency key time. The heavy bag in his arms was no so easily juggled as he felt around in his pockets, but at least he'd put her spare key on his keyring instead of the top drawer of his desk with the spare key McGee had reluctantly given him. He managed to let himself into the lobby of the building without dropping a single bottle, although he could feel the paper bag beginning to tear. It stayed together long enough to make it upstairs, but not all the way to Ziva's door. He needed two trips from the hall to the kitchen to bring in his cargo.

It wasn't until he had placed the bottles on the kitchen counter taken off his coat and shoes that he realized the potential significance of his situation. This was only the second time he'd been inside Ziva's new apartment and the first time he'd been in any private space of hers totally unsupervised, not including her desk, of course. Or purse or backpack, naturally. Or car. His eyes darted around the sparsely decorated living room. There was no telling how long he had before she got back, so… He opened the first door on his right and found a closet. Moving down the hall, he poked his head into a room containing a treadmill and cardboard boxes, then a bathroom. The medicine cabinet was tempting, but he could always have more time alone in the bathroom later. He took a deep breath and opened the last door.

The bedroom was simple, not giving any clear hints regarding the person who slept there, unless you were already familiar with her scent. He picked up a bottle from the dresser and was surprised to find that it was perfume. He gave it a little sniff. She obviously didn't wear this all that often. Too bad. He pulled open the top drawer and found that it stuck slightly. "Ooooh," he breathed, dipping his hand into an oasis of colored laces and satins and… Oh, God, if he got too clear a view of any of these he would be picturing her in them all night and then he'd have to leave no matter what kind of crazy storm was raging outside or have to suffer a slow, painful death while visions of Ziva wearing nothing but…he slammed her underwear drawer closed. Right. No more drawers.

His gaze swept the room until it landed on the nightstand. Okay, one more drawer.

His steps were slow as he approached, his socks making no noise on the hardwood floor. The drawer looked like it would be about half the size of the one he'd just searched and just as deep. There could be anything in there. Weapons plus anything, he corrected mentally, hoping it wouldn't be just weapons. He froze with his hand on the knob as the phone rang. Did she have security cameras or something set up in here? He tentatively answered, "Hello?" When no one replied, he tried again. "Hello? Ziva? Are you there?"

To his consternation, he was answered by a woman speaking in a strong New York accent. "So, are you gonna call me a dirtbag this time or do you have some other insult you'd like to test out?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you Tony or aren't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Well, the last time we spoke you didn't let me say much because you were so busy telling me you were married to my Zivaleh and that I wasn't to call her again. Oy, how awful that was!"

"Oh, you're Aunt Nettie!" he exclaimed, hoping this was a better turn of events than Ziva catching him snooping in her bedroom. "I, uh, I'm really sorry about that. There was this misunderstanding and…"

"Such a nice bouquet of flowers you sent! I was so upset."

"You didn't like them?"

"Didn't I just say they were lovely?" Her voice abruptly rose in volume. "Morty, weren't they lovely flowers? What do you mean, what flowers? The flowers this young man sent me after he was rude on the telephone! Zivaleh's Tony! Oy, go back to your paper!" Tony wasn't sure if he had just been dropped into a Woody Allen movie as she continued to him, "Trust me, the flowers were lovely. I was upset that you weren't the husband, that there was no husband, the husband was a carrot hanging in front of my nose like my Grandpapa used to do with his donkey when it didn't want to pull its cart before he got the Chevrolet pick-up truck. He had those old pictures up all over the shop so people not from the neighborhood could see how long we'd been in business there, so they could see that we were part of the community, that we had roots. I don't suppose you've got any old-fashioned family places in your fancy Capitol Hill gated estates, such a shame."

"Well, there's this little Italian place I like that's been there since…"

She went on as if he hadn't spoken, "I hope you're not a skinny little thing. You people don't understand how to eat! Zivaleh was so thin and sickly the last time she visited us. Morty, didn't she look malnourished? Like she was living on bread and water! You should take her out to dinner more often, Tony, and make sure she has a nice big meal. And dessert! But she should be getting a package from my boys in a few days. I called the delicatessen long distance special to tell them what they should put together for her so she doesn't have to cook too much but still has food in the house for the nights she doesn't eat out with you."

"We don't really…"

"Well, it's been very nice speaking civilly with you, Tony, but if it's not too much trouble…"

"Oh, she's not here right now, but I can have her call you when she…"

He yanked the phone away from his ear as Aunt Nettie emitted a high pitched squeal. "So you did get married? Or are you getting married? Or just living together? Oh, she needs a good man and I know you'll take good care of her. Anyone who tries to protect her like you do, telling me to leave her alone because you thought I was a bad date, oh, this is so good to hear."

"We're not actually…we're just having dinner tonight and I got here first."

"But you got in? She gives you a key and lets you go to her apartment and answer her telephone? I've been married to Morty for almost forty-five years and he doesn't even let me drive his car! Such a worrier! I'm an excellent driver!" she added loudly in response to some disparagement Tony couldn't hear. "So, what are you lovebirds having for dinner? Something filling, I hope, something more than just a little salad or a turkey sandwich. You know, the last time she visited, just after Passover, you know, missed seeing the boys who came special with their families just for my Seder, but we had lunch and all she ate was this little sandwich and she didn't even finish it! Took the rest home in a little box! I offered to cook her a nice meal, but she said she had to work and the next thing I hear, poof! She's back in Washington!"

Tony sat down on the bed as Aunt Nettie went on, describing how much she missed Brooklyn and seeing her grandchildren, but didn't regret emigrating to Israel after retiring and… He swung his feet up and leaned against the pillows. This was comfortable, but something was off. He scooted to the side of the bed opposite the nightstand. That was better. Actually, it was a little chilly in here, so it was silly to be on top of the puffy down comforter. He was just getting appropriately snuggly when he heard a terrifying noise. Throwing off the covers, he leaped out of bed and sprinted toward the bedroom door.

Ziva, still in her coat and holding several grocery bags, looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Why were you in my bedroom?"

"Oh, I…"

"And who is on the phone?"

Tony raised the phone, which had been hanging limply at his hip. "Sorry to interrupt your story, Aunt Nettie, but Ziva just walked in."

"Wonderful! Well, such a pleasure it's been talking to you. I'm sure we'll find lots more to talk about next time we…"

Tony didn't get to find out what would happen the next time, because Ziva had ripped the phone from his hand and was now pointing him angrily toward the bags she had put on the floor. Before she slammed her bedroom door, he was able to overhear, "Shalom, Aunt Nettie. Why are you up so late? No, he's…"

He decided it was best not to listen in to find out what he was, instead moving to put away the groceries. The steaks and potatoes looked good, but he was going to have to hope for the best where the asparagus was concerned. Maybe she'd just gotten that for tomorrow's dinner. Or something. He didn't feel like he was going to have much leeway for complaining.

By the time Ziva had finished her phone conversation half an hour later, he was ready with a glass of wine and what he hoped was an appropriately abashed look. She took a sip, checked the label on the bottle and frowned. "They did not have what I asked you to get?"

"Uh, they did. It's right here. I just thought this was a nice, uh, pre-dinner selection."

"It is not bad."

Why didn't she just drop the hammer? "Ziva, I thought maybe you were calling…"

"Why did you not just allow the machine to pick up?"

Glad the confrontation didn't sound like it was going to involve dismemberment, he gave her a lopsided grin. "You told me to use my judgment."