GAHHHHHHHH!

THAT IS CRAZY! FIFTEEN REVIEWS FOR ONE CHAPTER!

I have never had that many reviews for a chapter. Not ever. You people are amazing. You are the reason I write, and the reason I keep writing. Words cannot express (that's ironic, seeing as I claim I am a writer... :P)

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: not mine.

Chapter 24

Silence.

Pure, unadulterated silence. The kind that belonged in horror films, the type that meant something bad was about to happen. It was scary, and foreboding, and just plain strange.

Tony walked through Ziva's apartment, gun drawn as he waited for the worst. It had started when Ziva hadn't answered the door when he rang. Picking the lock, he entered the house, still calling Ziva's name as he cleared every room. Every horrible thought that Tony could have been thinking was running through his mind at a hundred miles an hour, ranging from Mossad coming to the states to claim Ziva back to Israel, to aliens abducting the hottest thing that they found on the earth (Megan Fox had nothing on his Ziva). Reaching the final door of the house, he took a deep breath, as if he was clearing the house of a suspect. He placed a hand on the door knob, and quickly pushed the door open.

There was a scream.

Tony had to check for a moment that it wasn't his own mouth that had emitted that high pitched squeal. But one look at Ziva's face told him that it had not been him who had screamed, but her. It was then when he took in the large T-shirt and the detergent bottle that were in her hand. And the earphones that were hanging limp from her shirt, the wire snaking down her top and into the pockets of her denim shorts. He could hear the loud music being emitted from the headphones from his side of the room, and identified the noise as the reason why Ziva had failed to come to the door previously.

As he holstered his gun, Ziva seemed to catch her breath, and recover what was left of her dignity.

"What is wrong with entering my house like a normal person?!" she said indignantly.

"I rang the doorbell, but you didn't answer," Tony said defending himself.

"So the logical sequence of events in your mind was to burst in, guns blazing?"

"Yes."

There was a pause as Ziva and Tony stood face to face, Ziva's eyes narrowed unto a menacing line. It was only then that Tony noticed how small Ziva was, dressed in oversized clothing, and barefoot. She had to look up slightly to meet his eyes, and Tony grinned at the revelation.

"What?"" she said, slightly scared at Tony's sudden manic grin.

"Is this our first fight?" Tony said, ignoring her question, but saying exactly what was on his mind, a wayward thought that was not stopped by his brain to mouth filter (not that it ever stopped anything).

Tony continued, "and if so, does this entitle us to hot, make up sex?"

Ziva's mouth opened slightly indignantly, and Tony grinned as he, for the first time was the one to leave her without words.

"So, you got anything to eat, I'm hungry…" Tony said, abruptly turning around and following his heart (or stomach, in his case). As he navigated down Ziva's hallways with practised ease, Tony felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the way Ziva followed in his footsteps. As they reached the small kitchen, Tony started going through her cupboards with a strange familiarity.

"So what was with the music?

"I was cleaning. Cleaning is boring. Therefore I was entertaining myself," Ziva said, as if she was stating the obvious. His mind may equate arguments to make up sex, but her mind worked in music.

"Why were you cleaning?" Tony said.

"Am I not allowed to clean?" Ziva shot back argumentatively, and Tony grinned. It had been strange to see Ziva as the damsel in distress, the one who needed a shoulder to cry on. He was more than willing to be that shoulder for her, and was glad that she hadn't pushed him away, but had pulled him closer. It was as if she was using his as a shield for all of her emotions, forcing the negative feelings in her head away with the fact that he was there. He was a physical reminder that she was needed and wanted. And he was more than willing to remind her of that every day. But there was something about the reappearance of her previous fire, the spark that reminded him so much of the woman who had grown so frustrated with him that she had pushed him up against that very counter and kissed him into submission. He knew that this Ziva was not the same as the old Ziva, and he didn't want her to be. The new Ziva was more forthcoming with her emotions, more willing to let him in. But there was something special about that spark that the town of them shared, that meant that their relationship stayed alive where many before had failed. It was a combination of the two factors that made them work together, despite the odds that were stacked against them, his job, her past, and her questionable future. But they would work. They had to.

Tony smiled at the thoughts flashing through his mind (he seemed to be grinning and smiling a lot lately. But Ziva had that effect on him. With her, what was there not to smile about?).

"So, what were you listening to?" He had not recognised that music that he heard from the other side of the room. But he was curious as to what had caused his Ziva to become so lost in her own little world.

Wordlessly, Ziva's smile widened to seismic proportions. The cupboard that was in front of him was shut gently, and as his eyes followed the slender hand that belonged to his fiancée. As his eyes traced her body and finally met her eyes, he saw an interesting mix of fire and tenderness in her eyes. But it was that look that made a feeling shoot through his body. It was not lust, it was more than that. But that didn't mean that he would object if she took him, there and then. But before such a thought could become a reality, Ziva turned away, and Tony was the one left behind, following the seductive sway of her hips, as she led him to the living room.

Tony stopped in the centre of the room, and watched as Ziva moved to pull her IPod from her pocket and onto the small speaker system that was set up in the corner of the room. As a dance teacher, it was natural that Ziva had music breathed into the very deepest corners of her house, whether it was in the form of scattered CDs on the floor, or it was the large empty space that was her living room. Tony could picture Ziva at night rolling the large rug up just as she was doing now, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. The music began to play, just as Ziva tucked the rug neatly into the corner of the room, with the impeccable timing that only Ziva had (that crazy ninja chick). Turning back to Tony, Ziva smiled a soft mysterious smile, and looked him dead in the eye.

"You know," she said, taking a graceful step towards him, her postured changing from cleaning Ziva to Ziva the dancer, "I am amazing that you are engaged to a dance teacher, and yet you have not had any dance lessons."

"Not true," Tony replied, and at Ziva's curious look, he continued, "Age five my mum tried to put me into dance classes. But I got kicked out by the end of the first week."

"What did you do that was so wrong?" Ziva said.

"I spent the whole time flirting with the girls," tony said. Ziva raised her eyebrows. Apparently DiNozzo's started young.

"Well," she said, suddenly felling territorial, "there is only one dancer that you are allowed to flirt with…"

"That's not going to be a problem," Tony replied, leaning down to say the words in her ear. Ziva shuddered at the feeling, and she forced herself to move her head away abruptly.

"Don't do that," Ziva said, but she felt the need to explain at his mock hurt look, "if you continue like that we won't be having a dance lesson. And you are having a dance lesson."

The music that had begun softly began to make its presence known, as if jealous of Tony and vying for Ziva's attention.

"Really?" Tony said, as he listened to the music for the first time, "Do I look like a classical music kind of person."

Ziva let out a dramatically playful smile, but dutifully changed the track. However, the change of tune did not come as any comfort.

The opening lines of the song were seductive, the low bass and the suggestive melody sounded like it belonged in a Moroccan night club. Tony barely registered the sultry words singing about rusted brandy in a diamond glass. The look that Ziva was giving him made him think of less than pure thoughts, thoughts that were less to do with dancing, and more to do with activities that did require physical activity, but did not require clothes…

Without breaking eye contact with Ziva, she changed the song again, and this time a slower, jazz kind of song flowed out of the speakers. Now this, he could deal with. The soulful vocals, the guitar solo that began it off. And as the main vocals kicked in, he could not help but admire the singer's voice (damn, that man had a set of pipes…). Despite the lyrics being generally pessimistic (who even was that thoughtful and gloomy?) the song was good. As Ziva walked over to him with grace and poise, and placed his hands on her body, his mood improved. He could definitely deal with this…

oooOOOooo

"MCGEE! I'M HOME!" Abby hollered into the apartment, announcing her presence to McGee, and anyone in a four block radius. She dropped her bag with a resounding thud on the floor, and kicked off her boots to reveal a pair of fluorescent toe socks underneath them. Socks that were totally loud, totally impractical, but totally her. Padding across the carpeted floors, she stuck her head into the kitchen, trying to find her Timmy. It was the end of the work day, and after a hard day with very little evidence to process, and so many clever machines that could practically run themselves, Abby was looking forward to

As she opened and closed doors, she heard a groan coming from the general area of the living room. Abandoning her systematic searching, she walked into the living room, where she found her aforementioned probie.

Sprawled on the couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, lay Timmy. Judging by his attire, he had been at the gym, and the fabric of his T-shirt indicated that it had not been a stroll in the park. A stroll in the park would not have produced so much sweat…

"Please don't make me move," Tim groaned, not opening his eyes.

"Who tired you out? That's my job," Abby said, flopping onto the couch too, but putting some distance between the two of them. She loved her Tim, but a sweaty Tim…

"Gibbs. We had no case, and he thought it would be a good idea to train us, while we had a spare moment. And then McGee registered what Abby had added at the end of her sentence, and what kind of activities that she was implying went on, "Abby! That's wrong!"

"Come on!" Abby said indignantly, "we all love Gibbs. He's like Superman. There is no shame in saying that you would take the chance if it ever c-"

"No. Just stop talking," Tim ordered. This conversation was getting too weird, too soon. He didn't even want to think about Gibbs in that way…. He shuddered at the thought.

Abby was not to be deterred, but listened to her boyfriend's wishes and changed the topic.

"So, what's for dinner, I'm starving…" she said, walking off to investigate whether the contents of the fridge made dinner a viable option.

"Wait, I'm coming," McGee said, and he pulled his aching body off the couch, hobbling after Abby. He was in pretty good shape, if he did say so himself. He had stopped eating all of that refined sugar and rubbish that did nothing but made his fatter. He had started going for runs every so often, doing crunches at the gym. But his body and his mind were not ready for the training that Gibbs wanted to inflict on him. So McGee had gone into the training session with a little confidence, only to have it and a number of his brain cells punched out of him. And now, two hours later, he could barely stand.

When McGee reached the kitchen, he saw that Abby had already had a start on dinner ideas.

"I want pancakes!" Abby said, and McGee smiled at her childish enthusiasm. However, he was going to have to rain on her parade.

"How about something, and then pancakes for dessert?"

Abby pouted at him, and then McGee could pinpoint the moment she decided that she was going to have to employ a different tactic. Stepping closer to him, she leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"But I was angling for something else for dessert," she said, and McGee had to swallow hard at the low seductive tone her voice had taken. But he was still strong in his answer.

"If you play your cards right, you might get both," he said, and Abby seemed satisfied with that answer. And judging by the say she fell asleep with a sweet satisfied smile on her face, she was very satisfied with the results too…

So, quiz questions. Cyber cookies for anyone who can name the last two songs that Tiva danced to in this chapter (it is pretty obvious.) leave your answer in your review! and please let me know what you think to this chapter! :)