A/N: I am so sorry for the horrible delay. School got to be a little crazy, and it still is, but I thought I'd run this off for you so...here it is! I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own babies. Or toast.

"No!" I groan from within sleep, jerking myself awake. I look around haphazardly, and see Tony sitting next to me on the bed. "I am sorry. Did I wake you?"

He shakes his head. "I don't even sleep in here, Zeev."

"Oh. Right." I blink sleep from my eyes and yawn. "How did you know I was—"

"—having a nightmare? You were loud," Tony murmurs, looking at me analytically. "You okay?" I nod curtly and try to roll off the bed, only stopping when my abdomen protests. I must have grimaced visibly because Tony places a gentle hand on my shoulder to push me back down onto the bed. "No, you're not, and I'm not talking about the dream. Sore?"

"Yes. I am sore. Okay?" I sneer. "You try pushing a watermelon out of something roughly the size of a carrot, and then tell me if you feel any better than I do."

Tony holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey, now, I was just asking a question. You've got no idea how much respect I have for you."

I shrug, biting into a cold, tough piece of toast. "Yech." Tossing it back down onto the plate, I murmur, "I am sorry."

"For what?" he asks, collecting the plate from my bedside table. "Nonetheless, you're forgiven."

"I keep snapping at you. First about baby responsibilities and now about something you didn't even do. I should not take advantage of you." Tony leaves and for a moment, I fear that he is actually upset with me. He returns a few minutes later with a large mug of tea.

After a long silence, he says, "Zeev, you're not taking advantage of me."

"But I am!" I argue, setting the mug down on the table. "I just assume you will forgive me, so it does not matter how I treat you, but it does, and that is wrong of me." I pause to take his hand. "So wrong."

He squeezes my hand slightly and leans forward to kiss the tip of my nose. "Oh, Zee-vah. I can't stay mad at you."

I look up at him with a slackened jaw. "Why not?"

"Mm, well, you see, there's a funny thing about us."

"Oh, Zee-vah. I can't stay mad at you," I reassure, settling myself on the edge of her bed a little closer to her.

She just stares at me in confusion. "Why not?"

'Oh, I don't know, because I love you?' Shit, shit, shit, shit…Cover, Tony, cover!

"Mm, well, you see, there's a funny thing about us," I tell her, examining her hand. Yes, the ring will definitely look stunning near the Christmas lights. "I…care about you."

Her eyes narrow just the tiniest bit and already I know I'm up a creek without a damn paddle. Again. "Do you, now?"

"Yes, Zeev, I do, and you know what? I'm not going anywhere."

She nods, as though I'm a kid or something. "Duly noted."

"And, um…"

"Yes, Tony?"

The look of pure naiveté adorning her face is enough to send my brain into overdrive, and as much as I want to just jump onto the bed and kiss her, I can't. I know I can't, and therefore I won't. But I want to! Oh, how I want to. Damn it all, anyway.

"Merry Christmas." With that, I run out of the room and to the living room, where I sit and curse my existence for almost an hour before Carmyn's baby monitor starts screeching at me. I hurry into her bedroom to find her staring at the door, crying up a storm, with the blanket somehow worked down around her ankles. "Oh, no, Carmyn…" I admonish gently, almost cooing. Who would've thought that I, Anthony DiNozzo Jr., would ever in a million years…coo. Nevertheless, I pick her up and, supporting her neck, hold her close to my chest.

Carmyn shoots me a glare that obviously says, "I'm hungry, and cold, and I'm pissed at you."

As if she could respond anyway, I answer her glare with, "Oh, my dear girl, you certainly inherited your mother's impatience, didn't you?" All I get is an eyebrow-raise and a soft punch on the sternum as she stretches out. "Let's get you some yummy formula!"

Suddenly, a pertinent "No!" echoes from Ziva's bedroom and she is, in a matter of seconds, in the room with what appears to be a pump of some sort in her hand. "Leave her with me, and then you can do whatever you want." I look at her but say nothing, allowing her to cross the room and sit in her rocking chair. Handing her Carmyn, I wonder for a fleeting moment what she's going to do with the pump until I see her pulling at the sleeve of her top.

I take that as a signal for me to leave. Quickly.

"Where are you going?" Ziva asks, and I don't face her.

"Um," I mumble, "kitchen?"

She gives a small chuckle and then states, "No, you are going to stay right here."

"What?" I groan. "Why?"

"Because, Tony, you care about me and the funny thing about us is that 'you aren't going anywhere.'"

Turning around, I lean against the doorknob. "Actually, if I remember correctly, I said that the funny thing about us is that I care about you and—what are you doing?"

"Please, Tony," she scoffs, staring me down, "as if you have never seen a woman's chest before."

This is true. "Well, I have, but not so…Um…"

"Hooked up to odd machinery? Yes. I understand." And she does. I can tell by her voice.

Such strange things women put themselves through.

"Wait, you're going to put that in a bottle? And feed it to our daughter?"

I stare at Tony for a moment before saying slowly, "Yes, Tony, it is referred to as breast-feeding for a reason."

"I just…did we agree on that?"

"Mother's decision."

"Oh…"

"There are special nutrients and hormones in breast-milk that helps the baby grow and develop the way she should, especially her brain."

"Oh."

I frown slightly and feel my eyebrows pull together. "Is there a problem? Can you say nothing other than 'oh'?" I do not mean to sound mean, but I am concerned that this has scarred him for life.

"Nope. I'm good. I just … Zeev, it's just a little disconcerting to see … you … And think about her … Oh, God." With that, he leaves the room, escaping just before I need him to heat the bottle.

"Tony?"

He hurries back into the nursery and grabs the bottle from me before running back out.

Men. They never do get used to this, do they?

A/N: In my opinion, Ziva, no, they don't. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm writing a little eight- or nine-chapter fic about Chanukkah. So I hopefully will have something up on that soon-ish. Enjoyyyyyy. (And I hope you had a fantastic Thanksgiving!) Love, Kat.

PS: Nom nom nom. -Carmyn.
PSS: HOW can she drink that stuff? -T
PSSS: ...I don't know, Tony. Tell me how you drink sugared coffee? -Z
PSSSS: The both of you-I think I'm becoming a babysitter... -G
PSSSSS: Yup. -T&Z