After their second round of couch sex, and rehydration, they found themselves giggling and stumbling naked through the apartment and into the bedroom; their clothes a discarded mess in the living room - a problem which they both silently agreed they would deal with in the morning. Cuddling and kisses turned into another round of gentle sex, until they ended up with limbs intertwined, snoring in each other's arms; only awoken by the blaring sound of Tony's alarm.

"No," she rolled over, burying her face in his chest. "Stay."

"Honey," he said, the pet name falling from his lips so casually that she wondered if she had dreamt it. "I have to go to work."

"Call in sick," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He chuckled. "Do you really think Gibbs will let me get away with that?" She lifted her head and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You said you were drinking a lot in my absence."

"McGee and Gibbs both know I had a date last night," he reminded her. "And they know I would never drink that much especially on a first date… and a school night."

Ziva sighed, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked at him. "So, I have to spend another day alone in our apartment?"

Our apartment. He bit his lip, wondering if she had even noticed she had said it, but the quick look of panic in her eyes suggested that she had, and he soothed her anxiety with a kiss to her lips. It was their apartment now. She was his. He was hers. They were each others.

"I'll come home at lunch time again," he replied, "and I'll make sure to get a key cut so you can come and go as you please." He paused. "You know," he continued, "since this is your place now too, if you get that bored, why don't you look online for some things to make this space your own?" He pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Like what, exactly?"

"I don't know," he grinned, "whatever things couples usually make decisions about when they live together. The colour of the walls? The decor?"

"You want me to paint the walls?" she asked, with a confused expression.

"I don't want you to do anything," he nodded, "it's whatever you want to do."

She thought for a moment. "So, if I wanted to paint this entire room cobalt red?"

"Ziva, I love you and you're carrying our baby. You could paint it vomit yellow, and I wouldn't mind." She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow. "Okay, I probably would mind. But the point is, I want this to feel like your space too, and if that means things need a little… sprucing up, then let's spruce them up."

"Cushions?"

"The more the merrier."

"Rug?"

"Be sure to choose one big enough to hide a body, just in case we ever need it," he replied, earning himself a laugh.

"Vases? Flowers? Paintings?"

"From what I remember about both of your apartments, your taste is impeccable and this place could do with some more culture."

"Knives?"

"Kitchenware, only." She rolled her eyes. "I don't need you stabbing any of our neighbours."

"Baby things?"

His breath caught in his throat. Of course, they both knew they were having a baby, but the idea of actually…. having the baby? He swallowed, looking at her, the same realisation settling in her eyes. He exhaled, his head sinking further into the pillow.

"We're having a baby, Ziva," he spoke into the air. He felt her lay back down beside him.

"We are," she replied, biting her lip. "You and me."

"Mhmm," he hummed in agreement. "We're going to be parents."

She bit her lip, turning her head to face his, and he did the same.

"Do you think we can do it?" she asked, her gaze settling on his eyes. His fingertips softly danced over the bare skin of her arm.

"I do," he nodded. "I've done a lot of growing up these past couple of months."

"I know," she replied, her fingertips tracing over his jaw. "I knew that even before Israel." Her lips lightly brushed his cheek.

"And we might not get everything right," he admitted, "and at times we may have no idea what we're doing. I mean, I haven't the first clue about changing diapers, or keeping kids alive beyond the obvious, but that doesn't mean I won't figure it out. I'll learn how to be a good dad."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him. "I am not worried about that," she said, softly. A look of surprise plastered itself on his face at her confession. He had never been good with children, and the only time he had actually enjoyed himself was when they were babysitting Vance's kids several months ago. Then again, he figured that perhaps that had more to do with the woman he was babysitting them with, more so than the actual act of babysitting.

"You're not?"

She shook her head. For Ziva, that same situation had been the moment she knew, that one day whomever he chose to have children with would be so incredibly lucky, to have him as the father. He was kind, funny, generous, had the biggest heart, and cared so much about others - more so than anybody she had ever met. And, the fact that he could sometimes still be a kid himself, meant that their child would grow up with a sense of whimsy and awe about life. Perhaps he may not have known the first thing about changing diapers, or swaddling a child, but those were things that he could learn. What he did know was how to be a decent, wonderful human being with values that any child would be honoured to have instilled in them from the moment they were born.

"Not at all," she replied, the corners of her mouth turning up. "I have no doubts that you will be a wonderful father."

"For the record, I think you're going to make an excellent mother," he smiled.

"Thank you," she nodded. "I am just wondering whether we can do the whole… domestic thing… family life. I mean, you and I have never really been together, and to add a baby into the mix as well? Do you not think that this is too complicated?"

He lightly chuckled. "Ziva, it wouldn't be us if it wasn't complicated." She nodded. "But, I do… think we can do this. We love each other, and this baby is going to be so loved too. All I know is that these last few months have been hell, and I don't ever want to be without you."

She let her fingertip softly trace his bottom lip before replacing it with her lips. "I do not ever want to be without you either."

The elevator doors to the sixth floor opened, and Tony stepped out with a hundred-watt smile plastered to his face, quietly humming to himself as he strolled to his desk.

"I take it the date went well last night?" McGee asked, noticing the awfully chipper change in demeanour of his friend and colleague; a stark contrast to the doom and gloomy lost soul that had been occupying the desk for months since Ziva left.

"Timothy Farragut McGee, how indiscreet. You know I would never reveal details of my romantic encounters," he replied, earning himself an eye roll as he slung his backpack on the floor.

"Sure you would," McGee threw back at him, his eyes narrowing, unconvinced. He had spent nearly a decade with the Very Special Agent, and he had lost count of the times he had entered the bullpen, boasting about how good his date was (or more specifically, how good she was in bed). Why was he being so evasive about his extracurricular activities now?

"Did you make an inappropriate joke that turned her off?" McGee asked.

"What? No," Tony replied, offended that his friend would think such a thing, though he could understand why, as his humour often rivalled that of a teenage boy.

"Did you pay for dinner?"

"Always. I'm a gentleman." He would have paid if they had gone out to eat.

"Did you chicken out of kissing her?"

"When have you ever known me to chicken out of kissing someone, McGee?"

"Never," he responded, "which is why I'm curious as to why you're being so… secretive over your date. Usually you come in here, loud and proud about how good it was. Why the sudden change?"

Tony tapped on his keyboard to awaken his computer. He would do anything to avoid looking at McGee; one look, and his eyes would give him away, as they so often did when he thought about Ziva.

"Maybe I've grown," Tony replied, nonchalantly, biting his lip. Or maybe last night was the most important first date I've ever been on, with a woman I love more than I have ever loved anybody, and I want to keep it to myself for as long as possible.

"You know you're allowed to be happy, right?" McGee spoke, eyeing his friend up and down. "I know you're still hung up on…" He cleared his throat. "All I'm saying is that if she isn't coming back, she would want you to be happy. And if you are… you can talk about it. It's not disrespectful to her."

Tony turned his head, looking at McGee from across his desk. "I am, McGee." And for the first time in months, he meant it.

McGee thought for a moment, before he nodded. He wasn't going to press the issue, or get Tony to talk about his date if he didn't want to. And yet, he couldn't help but feel as though there was something more his friend was keeping from him.

"Did she find out you were a federal agent and the idea of you being in a dangerous job put her off?" asked Ellie, flicking through her case file to find the piece of information she was after. She took a bite of her crossiant, not bothering to swallow as she continued her train of thought. "You know guns aren't for everyone."

"Actually," Tony replied, glancing up from his desk to the blonde, "she already knows about my job, and she finds it… exciting."

"Did she have some weird habit that put you off?" McGee asked, closing the filing cabinet and sitting back down at his desk.

"No," Tony replied, shaking his head.

"Did you accidentally call her fat?" Ellie asked, raising her eyebrow. "A guy did that to me on a date once…"

"He called you fat?" McGee asked, his brows crinkling.

"He said he'd never dated a girl with such big thighs before," she replied with her mouthful.

"No, I didn't accidentally call her fat." At least, I hope she wasn't offended by my staring at her not-quite -showing-yet bump.

"Was she bad in bed?"

Tony swallowed, hard. No, actually, she's the best, most mind-blowing sex I've ever had. He gave a light, nervous chuckle; his palms sweating as he typed at his keyboard. "We, uh… we didn't actually make it to the bedroom." Technically, it wasn't a lie…

His co-workers' heads tilted in unison. "Wow," McGee mumbled to himself, "I never thought I'd see the day when you didn't have sex on a first date."

"Yeah, well," Tony muttered, attempting to avoid another round of questioning, "things change."

"So, if it was nothing you did, and nothing she did, and you didn't end up in bed, then what's the problem?"

"I never said there was one, McGee," Tony replied, standing up from his desk. "You're the one who assumed my date went badly."

"Yeah, because you're not talking about it and it's so… out of character for you."

Tony sighed, glancing between his colleagues, knowing McGee wouldn't be satisfied until he was given a proper answer that made sense to him. He bit his lip. "I really like this woman, McGee," Tony admitted, "and I haven't felt this way since…" He coughed. If he said her name out loud to them, he would be tempted to smile like a lovesick teenager, and they'd call his bluff. "I think this could really be something if I give it a shot, and I don't want to screw it up."

McGee glanced to Ellie, who shrugged. "Okay," he nodded, acknowledging his friend's confession. "Well, if you change your mind, we're here."

Tony smiled at both of them, before retrieving his bag and heading to the elevator.

"Honey, I'm home," he joked, closing the front door, with a burrito in his hand. "Ziva?"

"In here!" she yelled from the bedroom. He slung his backpack on the floor, the heels of his dress shoes clacking across the wooden floorboards as he made his way through the apartment. "What do you think?" she asked, sensing his presence and turning to him with a smile on her face.

Upon the wall opposite the window were sample squares of paint, in shades varying from lapis blue and light turquoise, to olive green and celadon; and small samples of fabric were dispersed about the bed.

"Woah, you wasted no time," he laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. She grinned, her eyes flicking to the burrito in his hand. "Just in case you're hungry."

She brought her nose to it, inhaling the aroma of the contents; her stomach growling in response. She carefully took it from his hand, unwrapping it, and taking a bite. "So good," she mumbled with her mouth full. When she finally swallowed, she directed her attention to the paint on the walls. "I know I am perhaps an eager badger…"

"Beaver. Eager beaver," he corrected, before he cast his eyes over the paint samples. The thought of her putting her own touch on the place made his heart race unexpectedly; his body nearly twitching with excitement. "Oh, I like this one," he said, pointing to the celadon colour.

"You do?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "I was expecting a little more protest."

"I said you could spruce things up in any way you like," he grinned. "I mean, not that it matters much what I think, as you and I both know that I'll let you choose whatever you want, but I do quite like that colour. It feels… right."

She swallowed another mouthful of burrito before placing it on top of the dresser and turning to him. "It matters a great deal what you like and want," she nodded. "You live here too. And I am not so… selfish to alter something without consulting you first."

He bent his head to place a soft kiss on her lips. "Ziva, you're the furthest thing from selfish," he reassured, "but I appreciate you asking, even though you and I both know that I'm going to say yes to absolutely everything you want."

She laughed, narrowing her eyes. Then, she turned to the samples on the bed, her gaze flickering between them and Tony. Moments later, he pointed to one. "This." When she didn't respond, and instead continued to look at him as though he'd grown an extra head, his head cocked to the side and he slightly squinted at her. "What?"

"I am just thinking about how it is possible for you to choose the exact same samples that are my favourites, without us even discussing it."

The corners of his lips turned up into a smirk. "Well, Miss David, when it comes to you, you seem to underestimate my skills as a mind reader."

She smirked back at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she gazed into his eyes. His hands instinctively found her waist and pulled her closer, as she pressed an open-mouth kiss to his jaw. "Hmm," she mumbled. She brought her lips to his ear and her hands roamed his chest, slightly loosening his tie. "If you are such a good mind reader when it comes to me," she said, seductively, "perhaps you can tell me what I am thinking about right now." She placed a feather-light kiss below his earlobe as her hands crept lower to his belt. "And I will give you a hint," she whispered, "it is something I want and like very much."