DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.

"You are really pulling your luck."

Ziva had found Tony where she expected to find him. The alcove behind the stairs was a stupid place to be doing things their twenty-foot-distant boss would kill them for, but Tony had never exactly claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shack.

"It's our luck I'm pushing." He corrected her on both counts, offering a charming grin in what didn't look or sound like an apology at all.

"I doubt I'm going to be the one that Gibbs will murder." She pointed out flatly, and he pointedly ignored her.

Tony glanced around very quickly; Ziva wondered why he was bothering. It wasn't like there was a soul in the building that hadn't noticed what was going on between them, and had just chosen to carefully ignore it in favor of avoiding Gibbs' wrath. She almost asked him that, but then he made her lips too busy for anything else.

He kissed her, and, like a good example of Newton's third law, instinct drove her to instantly kiss him right back.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, as soon as she had the sufficient lack of oxygen (and sufficient strength of will) to pull back. "We are going to get caught."

Her words could have been more convincing if she hadn't been eyeing the distracting smudge of her lipstick on his mouth. She didn't struggle with herself about it for long, and soon she was wiping at it. Obviously, that did nothing to diminish his knowing grin.

He pressed her against the wall, and it was only then that she realized that, somewhere along their acts of disrespectful disregard about office rules, he'd completely turned her around (both in terms of her position and opinion on those same acts). She knew why he was acting like this. She couldn't put it into words, but the exchanges in the bullpen, Mary, all of it, left her wanting his... comfort.

Despite that, thinking of Mary brought up some lingering darkness in her mind, the kind that wouldn't leave her alone. Sometimes she was still caught by the usual fear of commitment and the fear of his own issues, and why was she doing this? She'd end up hurt, alone, like every other time and-

And he was just taking her hand, rubbing mind-absent circles in it, expression completely relaxed as he unknowingly soothed her inner turmoil. She unconsciously leaned into him and rested her forehead on his chest. Oh, yeah. That was why.

She looked back up at her partner. He smirked then, because she was brushing a thumb on his temple and definitely not trying to put an end to their endeavors. "And yet you don't seem to mind." He murmured, and his hands were dropping lower and lower.

"I'm not interrupting your work, am I?" The words were said with drawled out calm and they had never felt the blood rush out of their faces so fast.

"Boss!" Tony squeaked – if Ziva didn't know him better, she'd say that the unnatural width of his eyes professed fear. "We- We were just-" Italian made, he made use of his hands to gesture between their bodies – a rather inefficient way of explanation, in Ziva's opinion.

Maybe he ought to have disengaged himself from her earlier. Gibbs' stare was a little too prominent on the way he was still pinning her to the wall. They jumped apart, discretely smoothing out their clothes in a foolish attempt to mask what they'd been doing.

"Making a sequel to this morning?" He finished, raising his eyebrows.

Tony wasn't quite sure if he meant the scene in the bullpen, or the… mild interactions they'd had in the senior agent's apartment. Gibbs did know all, but Tony still fervently prayed for the first option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

He was so toast.

Gibbs stared at them. It was time for the conversation he'd prayed he'd never have to have. Jesus, couldn't they have been a little less obvious? So he could claim blissful ignorance?

He couldn't do that now. He stared between the two of them, Ziva with flushed cheeks and Tony with thoroughly messy hair (again – did she have a problem with his hair?). And that was just the beginning. Tony would be thankful that, after the forest, he'd changed into a t-shirt, because experience had taught Gibbs that lipstick stains didn't come off easy.

Gibbs crossed his arms. "DiNozzo," He sighed, deciding on a course of conversation. "get lost."

Tony looked more than a little stumped as Ziva engaged Gibbs in a staring contest. "Boss?" he asked – he was so sure he'd be the one six-feet under that night, not Ziva.

"Go." He retorted as shortly as only Gibbs could. And Tony left, not one to question direct orders from him, but the older agent could still see him watching them and wondering as he walked away.

Gibbs was a get-to-the-point kind of guy, and Ziva was no different, so neither of them was bothered when, as soon as Tony was safely out of sight (which took a while, because Tony apparently had suspiciously dragging feet), the team leader went straight for the kill.

"I hope you know what you're doing." He stated bluntly with two raised eyebrows. "Both of you. Because I sure as hell don't."

Ziva winced. This was exactly what she'd hoped to avoid. She felt herself stiffening even as that thought reached her, like she was preparing herself mentally for her father (in all intents and purposes) figure's disappointment.

"Not gonna bite you, Ziver." He offered, sensing her discomfort. "Though I can't promise I'll extend that courtesy to DiNozzo."

She let slip a tense smile. "I know."

And that was it for conversation. Like Gibbs, Ziva had always worked best with silence, but she'd never felt such an uncomfortable one.

She didn't know what to do or say. She was partly pestering herself to give some sort of explanation, and partly rebelliously protesting in outrage at that idea. She felt like a defiant teenager who refused to explain to her father why she thought it had been a good idea to go out after curfew.

Gibbs solved the problem for her by starting up a rare monologue. Of course, it was Gibbs, so, mono or not, it was still short, blunt and to the point, much like the man himself. "I have no interest in what you and DiNozzo have been doing," He stressed. "so I'm not gonna ask. I just have one thing to say: be serious about it. Because you're putting a lot at stake."

If only Gibbs knew how much. There was a beat of silence.

"Tony is adopting Mary."

Whoever said she had control over her mouth?

Gibbs lifted his eyebrows, tantalizingly slowly. She felt her hands twitch in a repressed effort to bury themselves in her hair. Her nerves almost made her bite her nails, which was something she'd never done before. "Or at least, he is going to try." Now that she'd spilled it, she might as well leave the situation clear.

Gibbs offered one of his usual penetrating silences then – and it was so stressing that Ziva's mind had plenty of time and imagination to picture the most twisted and whirled outcomes, the least of which was certain death.

Gibbs and his… quietness were so infuriating. Ziva always needed to know what others were mulling over, and her boss never allowed that. That was part of her training and it meant that she could have control. Without it, she felt like pulling her hair out in frustration.

Except she couldn't say a word, because that was also part of her training. She kept the cool and closed-off expression that Mossad would be proud of, and it annoyed her.

"And what's your part in that?"

The question should not have been unexpected, nor should it have caught her off-guard. She stared at Gibbs' expectant and serene (like a storm's eye) expression, and, suddenly, she was cold and rubbing her arms. Or at least cold was her excuse.

She avoided his gaze. Sometimes she forgot that Gibbs seemed to have the talent that she'd learned in Israel as a given gift himself. He knew all, and it would do for her to keep that in mind. "He-" Unconsciously, her voice stuttered over the words, and she cursed herself for it. "He has asked me to adopt her too… as a couple, with him." Needless to say, the hesitation on that last part was perfectly conscious.

She might have imagined Gibbs sighing. Regardless, she watched him apprehensively as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall. "Not gonna ask what your answer was to that." He said dryly, and she flushed. "Don't do pointless questions. Don't do repeating myself either, but, this time, I'll allow it – you better know what you're doing." He said quietly.

He was too serious for her liking. That was what made her get some introspection done.

She thought about Mary. She thought about all the things she'd dreamed about having in a Mossad-free future, all the things she'd always allowed herself to wish for but never expect. She thought about Tony, and his light kisses and secret smiles. She thought about waking up to see him in a kitchen, scowling at the sun, and she thought about real Christmases with a real family.

For all of that, she knew her answer.

"I do."

He half-smiled. She was sure of it.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked off without a spare glance, leaving Ziva to stare at his retreating back and floating words. "Then you should know that I have another clause for rule 12. It involves exceptions and kids."

It hadn't been a very long conversation, but, for Ziva, it was just a little more packed than a usual one was.

McGee was instantly worried the moment that Tony reentered the bullpen jittery and looking back too many times for a relaxed man. There was no way that that would bode anything good for him – whenever Tony was distracted, Tim somehow ended up paying the bill for that. In the back of his mind, he unconsciously began making a list of everything on his table-top that he ought to stash away - for protection from anything Tony might do.

He watched from his desk as the senior agent barely seemed to acknowledge his presence in the room, plopping down on his own desk.

"Something wrong, Tony?"

Tim's wary question seemed to have little to no effect on the senior agent. Tony's head, which had been bobbing back and forth between his desk (which DiNozzo was supposed to be paying attention to) and the alcove (where McGee's curiosity was also directed) twitched to the junior agent briefly, but that was pointless. He didn't answer, and his head went right back to the turning around – it looked like he was trying not to stare at a naked girl, except that he was being really obvious about it.

Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have looked normal, but this was Tony, so McGee just threw him a crumpled piece of paper to the head.

Annoyed, Tony's narrowed eyes turned to him, and McGee finally had his full attention, though all the glaring was unnecessary and uncalled for.

Tim arched an eyebrow, determined not to feed DiNozzo's ego any more than strictly necessary by acknowledging the look he was giving him. "What was going on over there?" He asked curiously, gesturing to the stairs.

Tony ignored his question – of course he did. "You don't get to do that." He informed him, pointing at the white paper ball on the floor. "I'm the clown, not you. You're the McSuck-up goody two-shoes."

Much like Tony had done himself, Tim studiously ignored him. "What's been going on lately?" He decided to ask – he had been wondering for a while, but (for some reason) he'd also been somewhat reluctant about asking outright about it. "You and Ziva have been acting… stranger than usual, and now you two took off and Gibbs went after you." He looked at him expectantly, crossing his arms. "What's up?"

Tony seemed to be sufficiently distracted from his staring in the alcove's direction to ponder McGee with a mild frown. He appeared suspicious of something, but it was McGee's guess as to what. "What do you mean, 'what's up'?" He asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

McGee had expected him to complete that sentence somehow, and, when he didn't, he realized that Tony was actually asking him what he meant – which surprised Tim, because, as far as the junior agent knew, the interactions and stupid joking between his two teammates were perfectly conscious actions, for the two of them. There was no reason for Tony not to have noticed how his behavior had changed around his partner lately. "Are you turning into Ziva?" He asked, eyeing Tony's crossed arms – well, at least now he had his full attention. "Because I'd expect that question from her."

Tony stared at him, seemingly looking for any signs of deceit. When he didn't find any, he blinked, once, twice – and he looked completely dumbfounded. "You actually don't know?" He asked, as if confirming something ridiculous. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Tony. Seriously." He answered dryly, trying not to show how he was getting an unwelcome feeling of foredoom to the subject, and becoming uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. Besides that, the disbelief from his coworker didn't have the power to make him experience inadequacy – he supposed that he had had many years of ignoring that, and was now trained.

"Well, it's just…" Tony scrambled for words, and McGee had the unprecedented pleasure of seeing DiNozzo look flustered. "We haven't been very… inconspicuous-"

And McGee made the conscious decision not to listen to another word. He was pretty sure the senior agent had said something about Gibbs knowing, and how that probably meant that it was fine to tell everyone else, but- he didn't listen.

Well. Now he knew what was up. Apparently, he was ignorant enough to miss explicit behavior, but he could read between Tony's lines.

He hadn't wanted to know – but that was when he thought they weren't actually doing anything. He had taken for granted that their feelings for each other had become much less than platonic long ago (and that that had happened fast and hard), but he had also taken for granted that they would never do anything about it – except in McGee's books.

They just had too many unresolved issues that they needed to get over before doing a thing. And given Tony's reluctance in accepting reality and change, and Ziva's inability to cope with being emotionally dependent on someone after the amount of times that that had gone wrong for her, McGee had figured it'd never happen.

Except apparently it had. They'd done… something, and, maybe subconsciously, Tim had wanted to be oblivious to it. Now he felt rather naïve – the whole building had practically been buzzing with that particular gossip, even if Tony and Ziva had not said a thing (at least McGee was right about one of his assumptions: if they ever got involved with each other, their attitude would change too much for anyone – except, apparently, himself – not to know).

He should have seen the very obvious signs (seriously, they could have at least left some groping for home) – and seeing the very obvious signs would have meant coming to the conclusion that there had to have been a reason for their acting on their feelings. Something such as Mary.

He should have seen it. Hell, they should have told him about it. Didn't they? McGee thought they should have.

And now he found himself irritated.

He didn't know why he felt so upset about it - his friendship with Ziva was (very) lacking compared to the one she had with Tony. Hell, it was very lacking compared with McGee's own relationship with the senior agent. She wasn't even the main cause of his pout - it was with Tony he was more annoyed with. They were friends, weren't they? So why hadn't he said anything about this?

But, instead of voicing that out-loud and risk sounding like a petulant child, he limited himself to a glare and two crossed arms. He guessed, from Tony's surprised look, that the Italian was as unexpecting of his behavior as Tim was himself.

"So Gibbs found out and didn't kill you?" His huffing tone suggested there was a bit more to that question than what met the eye.

He was just so… tired of secrecy, and the idea that they had to keep things from each other. Which was kind of hypocritical, since he was refusing to talk about what had transpired in the forest and if it hadn't been for Gibbs, no one would even know that something had happened at all. Still, he had no idea what was making him feel this way, but people needed people, and, for some reason, that curse and Abby had shown him that very clearly today. He was tired of trust issues, and, unfortunately, Tony was there and available to take the onslaught those thoughts brought.

Tony raised his eyebrows, eyeing McGee's stiff and straight stance warily. "I don't think this is about whether I told you Ziva and I are-"

"Okay, okay! You can stop right there!" McGee interrupted firmly in a high-pitched voice, as if all of his introspection had been suddenly rendered completely void. Then he frowned, staring at Tony suspiciously. "When did you decide to become so open about it anyway?"

Tony shrugged, and McGee saw. Tony had become… mature to an extent he had never imagined, in his wildest dreams, to be possible for the senior agent. And yet McGee had no doubt in his assumption that that change had originated from Mary. And more likely than not, Ziva too.

Regardless of all that – he was being open about it. So maybe the whole drama he was thinking up in his head was completely pointless, and he ought to relax. Except the annoyance that had already been conjured didn't really go away.

Tony scrutinized him cautiously, as if unable to understand what exactly was going on with the junior agent. "You know me, McGee," He said carefully, looking cautious about how he said his words. That didn't settle well with McGee, because it made him feel like some unstable middle-aged woman going through a midlife crisis. "I'm an open book."

McGee rolled his eyes weakly. "Absolutely. You're always an open book. Particularly open when you said that where you went earlier was none of my business."

"Yeah, but, you know, I knew that Ziva would tell you." He protested. McGee had lost track of the point of this discussion. Tony was good at doing that.

"But you had a problem with telling me you'd gone to get food for Mary?"

"Well, maybe Ziva's just better at lying about where we'd really gone than I was."

"See what I mean about being open?" McGee offered his last retort.

Well, they were back to their bantering. So… as long as his two coworkers kept their private interactions to themselves in their alone time at home, Tim should be good.

Then he remembered that this was Tony he was thinking about. And no matter how much blame one could put on the senior agent, he couldn't forget Ziva either. Who was he kidding? He'd end the day scarred for life – if not the next hour. They had slipped out of his sight together three times by now, and McGee was worried. And that was just one day worth of dating.

Well, he assumed it was just one day…

"So how long has… it been going on?" McGee asked suddenly, continuing that train of thought out loud and stuttering on the words while he changed the subject.

Tony eyed him warily, and McGee got the feeling that he was discussing this for the first time. And he was instantly regretful – he had a pretty nasty imagination that told him that, at least about this, maybe he didn't want details.

Tony looked defensive, and McGee's writer mind automatically jumped at the opportunity of seeing 'Tommy's' first hand reaction at the subject for his book. So much so that he almost forgot about his uneasiness about Tony's answer.

Maybe his fit had actually served for something – if he hadn't thrown it, maybe Tony wouldn't have been so willing to talk about it. "Since last night." But then, a flickering expression ran through Tony's face – he seemed to have realized that he had a reputation to maintain, and that giving non-clown-like answers was not the way to do it. He leaned forward conspiratorially with a masking mischievous shine to his eye. "Would you like details?"

"About as much as I wanna tell Gibbs what you just admitted to me."

Tony scoffed at the teasing threat, which was not at all the reaction McGee was expecting. "You really think I'd be telling you this if Gibbs didn't already know?"

McGee frowned, staring at Tony wonderingly as the senior agent tapped his desk (in an annoying way) to calm the nervousness that Tim could see, from the way the Italian was constantly staring in the hallway's direction again, had returned.

There was a piece of the puzzle he was still missing. Tony's behavior was uncharacteristic – he was always afraid of Gibbs, whenever he did something stupid. DiNozzo wouldn't willingly volunteer his own cross for his boss to burn him on, would he? "I don't get it. You're not usually this forthcoming. And now you've told Gibbs?"

Tony turned his head to him again, looking irritated and no longer careful of McGee's weird annoyance. "Well, let me put it this way: unless Gibbs is stupid, blind and/or seriously oblivious-" Tony began, leaning back in his chair.

"You wanna finish that sentence, DiNozzo?"

Of course Gibbs entered the bullpen right then.

"Don't see a reason to, Boss." Tony immediately answered. He glanced behind Gibbs – and when he failed to see Ziva, a frown wrinkled his forehead. But Gibbs wasn't done. When he passed DiNozzo's desk, he grabbed him by his collar and dragged his stumbling form to the elevator that lead to Abby's lab. McGee was almost worried.

But his worry for Tony was no match to his sudden desire to be nosy on their lives.

Maybe that curse had taken a bigger toll than he supposed. He was starting to act scarily like DiNozzo, and that was never a good thing. So, he mused, as he picked up the phone that Ziva had left discarded on her table-top, this wasn't really his fault.

He went straight for her texts. He found several, but, most prominently, the name blinking up at him was Tony's. Of course. He clicked on the first message from him.

Then he really, really, wished he hadn't. He was starting to see why this careless kind of (DiNozzo-like) behavior brought Tony so much bad luck.

The phone clattered back onto the desk as McGee hurriedly tried to shield his poor mind from the horrors within it. It was either that or something else entirely (such as the fact that she was a trained assassin who had killed people for less than snooping) that made him miss the quiet footsteps that signalized that Ziva was both approaching and going to catch him red-handed.

"Is there anything interesting on my personal, private cell, McGee?" She asked casually, dropping down on her desk with a glare in her narrowed eyes, even if her expression was trying for serene and, at least to him, failing.

McGee opened his mouth and nothing came out, so, instead, he fled to the stairs that would lead him to Abby's lab. Honestly, it looked like the safest decision.

The only problem with the plan was that Ziva followed him. Which wasn't good at all. At all. He was going to end up dead today, for sure. He was never pulling another stunt like Tony again. Ever.

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