"Tony, get out of the kitchen," Ziva admonished as she finally had enough of him helping her bake cookies.

So far, Tony had managed to accidentally dump a whole package of sugar in the mixing bowl—measuring cups are for losers, he'd said—dropped not one, but two eggs on the floor—I don't care how good you were at juggling when you were 10, you're clearly bad at it now—and almost poked her eye out with a wooden spoon.

He sidled up next to her, trademark DiNozzo smile in place, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"And get out of my hair, you're getting flour in it," she said, slightly exasperated, remembering what a pain her little sister had been in the kitchen what felt like a lifetime ago. She turned her head to look at him—maybe she was being a bit harsh—noticed that his trademark smile had been replaced with his trademark puppy dog eyes, and rolled her eyes at him before going back to mixing the ingredients with a spoon.

When she reached for the bag of chocolate chips, her hand collided with Tony's, knocking over the bag and spilling the contents all over the kitchen island. Her head whirled in his direction just in time to see him pop a handful of chocolate chips in his mouth before his eyes went wide, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Those are not candy," she said, trying hard to keep her voice neutral.

"Of course they are," he countered. "They're like dark chocolate M&M's without the sugar coating." He looked her up and down and grinned. "They're sort of like you, come to think of it." He popped another one in his mouth. "A little bit bitter, but they taste so good when they melt in my mouth."

Ziva stared at his mouth a moment too long and averted her gaze when his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. Sometimes she really hated how easily he could get to her these days. So she busied her hands instead, adding plenty of the spilled chocolate to the mixing bowl in front of her, in an effort to distract herself.

"I thought you were supposed to add love as an ingredient when you're cooking. We don't want the whole team to find out tomorrow how angry you were while baking these cookies," he said mock-seriously.

Ziva huffed.

"Or, are you more frustrated than angry?" he murmured, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle her ear.

She faced him, noses almost touching, her gaze flitting to his lips before resting on his eyes.

"Obviously, I am frustrated, Tony," she said seductively. "Anybody would be frustrated trying to get any work done with a bored five-year-old around." The deadpan tone was accompanied by a pinch in his side.

Tony let out a melodramatic yelp and pouted. When Ziva looked at him pointedly, he dropped the act. She assumed it wouldn't last long, but she would take what she could get until the cookies were in the oven.

Taking a teaspoon out of the drawer, she placed small mounds of batter on the baking trays. From the corner of her eye she saw Tony's hand stray towards the mixing bowl and she swatted at it.

When she was nearly done filling the trays, she suddenly felt one of his hands glide under the hem of her shirt, his fingers lightly caressing the small of her back. The pleasant distraction slowed her reactions enough for Tony to almost bring the discarded wooden spoon full of raw cookie dough up to his mouth.

"You're not leaving me alone until you have licked every utensil clean of batter, are you?" Ziva questioned testily.

"Well, I'm not leaving until I've licked something," Tony said lowly and winked.

She let out a sigh of frustration. "I was wrong earlier. You're not a bored five-year-old; you're a horny fifteen-year-old."

The comment only made his grin grow wider. Ziva shook her head, but couldn't prevent the corners of her mouth from twitching as she placed the trays in the oven. She washed and dried her hands, then leaned back against the sink to stare at him.

Tony shrugged lightly and said, "I love you." As if that explained the tornado that seemed to have swept through the kitchen.

Ziva closed the distance between them. "If you truly love me…" Her fingers curled around the front of his shirt. "You will never help me bake cookies again," she continued and pulled him closer to place her lips on his.

A/N: I've been awake for +23 hours, so I probably shouldn't have posted this until another round of editing after getting some sleep, but, eh. In case you're wondering, and I know you weren't, I was eating dark chocolate chips while writing this—I'm Belgian, there's a chance I'll die if I don't eat chocolate (probably not, but why risk it).

I like feedback as much as dark chocolate.