After the movie ended, Tony and Ziva stepped out into the cool night air. Ziva crossed her arms, not because she was cold, but out of habit, as if shielding herself from the lingering emotions stirred by the film.

"I have to admit, that wasn't terrible," she said, glancing sideways at Tony. "Though I still don't understand why every villain must have such a tragic backstory."

Tony grinned, his hands casually in his pockets. "See? You're learning to appreciate the nuances of cinema," he teased. "Next time, we'll try something even deeper—maybe a buddy cop movie with an alien twist."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "If you try that, I will choose the next three movies. They will be in Hebrew, and there will be no subtitles."

Tony laughed. "Touché, David. Touché."

They walked toward the parking lot, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The buzz of the evening wasn't just from the movie—it was the easy rhythm they had fallen into, the unspoken acknowledgment that this wasn't just another casual outing.

As they approached Tony's car, he turned to her. "Dinner? Or are you still full from all the popcorn you didn't eat?"

Ziva smirked. "I could eat. But no drive-thrus, Tony. Something real."

Tony mockingly placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me. Do I look like a drive-thru kind of guy?" He gestured toward the car. "Get in. I know a place."

They drove a short distance to a small Italian bistro tucked into a quiet corner of the city. The restaurant was warm and inviting, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Tony held the door open for Ziva, who gave him a brief, appreciative nod as she walked in.

The hostess seated them at a corner table. Tony picked up the menu, but he couldn't help sneaking glances at Ziva as she scanned hers. The way the soft light highlighted her features, the relaxed way she leaned back in her chair—it was a version of her he didn't get to see often, and he didn't want to take it for granted.

"What?" Ziva asked, catching his gaze.

Tony shrugged. "Just surprised you haven't criticized the menu yet. Thought you'd find something wrong with the pasta descriptions."

She gave him a dry look. "Not everything needs to be criticized, Tony."

"Noted," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

They ordered their meals and continued their back-and-forth, the conversation flowing easily. They talked about everything except work and the team, as if they were both silently agreeing to keep this night separate from the rest of their lives.

By the time dessert arrived, Ziva was laughing at one of Tony's ridiculous stories about his time in college, and Tony felt a warm satisfaction settle over him. When the check came, Tony grabbed it before Ziva could even make a move for her purse.

"Don't even think about it," he said, smirking.

"I could have offered to split it," Ziva pointed out, though there was no bite in her tone.

"I know you could have," Tony replied, standing up and sliding his wallet back into his pocket. "But you didn't. And that's progress."

Ziva rolled her eyes but followed him out of the restaurant. As they walked back to the car, she felt a sense of contentment she hadn't felt in a long time. There was something about the night—about Tony—that felt… right.

The drive back to her apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. When they arrived, Tony parked and turned to her, a playful but uncertain look on his face.

"So, uh, thanks for not running screaming from the theater or dinner," he said.

Ziva smiled softly. "It was… nice."

"Nice," Tony echoed, pretending to wince. "Ouch. I was aiming for extraordinary."

Ziva smirked, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Keep trying, Tony."

Before she could open her door, Tony reached out and gently caught her wrist. She turned to look at him, her expression curious.

Tony walked Ziva to her door, his

hands casually tucked into his

pockets as they climbed the last

steps. They stood there for a

moment, the soft glow of the

hallway light casting warm shadows

across their faces.

Tony gave her a small smile, his

usual bravado softened. "We should... do this more often."

Ziva tilted her head, her gaze holding

his. "Perhaps we should." And before

she could second-guess herself, she

stepped closer, leaning up to press a

soft, lingering kiss on his lips. It was

gentle but filled with intent, a quiet

promise between them.

Tony froze for a heartbeat, then

melted into the kiss, his hand

instinctively resting on her hip.

When they pulled apart, his grin was

more boyish than usual. "Well, that

was a pleasant surprise.

Ziva smirked, unlocking the door

and stepping inside. She glanced

back at him. "Are you coming in, or

would you prefer to stand in the

hallway all night?'

"Coming in, obviously," Tony replied,

following her inside and shutting the

door behind him.

Ziva moved toward the kitchen,

opening a cabinet and pulling out a

bottle of wine

"Make yourself

comfortable," she said over her

shoulder as she grabbed two

glasses.

Tony walked over to the couch

loosening his tie and sitting down.

He couldn't help but smile as she

joined him, handing him a glass and

settling beside him. Before long, she

swung both of her legs over his

her body resting comfortably

against his side.

Tony raised an eyebrow, smirking as

he gently placed his hands on her

thighs. "Getting cozy, are we?"

Ziva took a sip of her wine, her eyes

playful. "I am simply comfortable.

They sat like that for a while, sipping

their wine and chatting quietly. At

one point, Ziva reached over, taking

his glass from his hand and placing

it

on the table alongside hers. Tony

raised an eyebrow in question, but

before he could say anything, Ziva

shifted, turning toward him and

resting her hands on his shoulders.

Her expression softened as she

leaned in, her lips finding his in a

slow, deliberate kiss. Tony

responded immediately, his hands

sliding from her thighs to her waist,

pulling her closer. The kiss

deepened, a warmth spreading

between them as the tension of the

day melted away.

Ziva's fingers tangled in his hair,

while one of his hands moved to

cradle the small of her back. Neither

of them spoke, the moment needing

no words, just the quiet affirmation

of what had been building between

them for so long.

The warmth between them grew as their kisses deepened, a rhythm naturally forming as they explored the connection they had both been dancing around for so long. Ziva's fingers traced along Tony's jawline before sliding into his hair, while his hands roamed her back, holding her close. It was intoxicating, a moment neither wanted to break.

Then the sharp buzz of Tony's phone vibrated against the coffee table, cutting through the soft quiet. Both of them froze, their foreheads still touching, before groaning in unison.

"Of course," Tony muttered, leaning forward to grab the phone. He managed it one-handed, keeping Ziva against him with his other arm. The name on the screen made him groan louder as he showed it to her. "It's Gibbs."

Ziva sighed, pressing a soft, brief kiss to his lips. "You should answer it before he sends McGee to drag you out of here."

Tony rolled his eyes but swiped to answer the call. "Yeah, Boss?" he said, his tone only mildly annoyed.

Ziva leaned back slightly but stayed close, her hand moving to play with his hair as he spoke. Tony's free arm rested comfortably around her waist, keeping her within reach.

Gibbs's no-nonsense voice came through the line. "Got a new case. Victim's a Navy lieutenant, found in a motel downtown. Meet me at the office in 30."

Tony exhaled deeply, glancing at Ziva. "Got it. We'll be there," he replied, disconnecting the call.

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Tony smirked, slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling her back toward him briefly. "You know Gibbs. He probably assumes we're already together somewhere, plotting McGee's demise."

Ziva chuckled, lightly running her fingers through his hair one last time before standing up. "Then we should not keep him waiting. I will grab my gear."

Tony stood as well, stretching and grabbing his jacket. "Rain check on the whole... making-out-without-interruption thing?" he teased, flashing her a playful grin.

Ziva smirked as she moved toward her room to get ready. "We will see how well you behave."

Tony couldn't help but laugh, already anticipating how much harder it would be to focus on work now that they'd taken the leap.

Tony and Ziva parked their cars in their respective spots and made their way into the Navy Yard separately. Ziva arrived first, already reviewing case notes when Tony walked into the bullpen. He offered her a subtle nod as he sat at his desk. Without saying a word, their professional masks slid into place, and they focused on the case, keeping any hint of their relationship far from the office.

The team worked through the night, combing through evidence and chasing leads. By the early hours of the morning, exhaustion weighed heavily on all of them. Gibbs had sent Abby and Ducky home to rest, leaving the field team to wrap up what they could.

The next day, McGee, despite his best efforts, couldn't fight off the fatigue. His head bobbed, and his eyes fluttered shut as he slumped over his desk, snoring softly.

Tony and Ziva returned from running an errand, walking into the bullpen to see their teammate fast asleep. Tony immediately stopped in his tracks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Ziva sighed, already sensing what was about to happen. "Tony..." she began, her tone half warning, half amused.

He turned to her, putting a finger to his lips. "Shh, Zee-vah. This is too good to pass up."

"Do you ever stop?" she asked, shaking her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Nope," Tony whispered, grabbing a marker from his desk drawer.

Ziva folded her arms, watching as Tony tiptoed to McGee's desk. "Just do not blame me when Gibbs gets wind of this," she murmured.

Tony glanced back with a wink before turning his attention to McGee. With a steady hand, he started drawing a mustache and goatee on McGee's face. Ziva couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle despite herself.

As Tony finished his "masterpiece," McGee stirred slightly but didn't wake up. Tony stepped back, admiring his work with a satisfied grin.

"Voilà," he whispered, holding the marker up like a trophy.

Ziva shook her head, though her amusement was evident. "You are incorrigible, Tony."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way," he quipped.

They both moved back to their desks, struggling to suppress their laughter as McGee snored on, blissfully unaware of his new facial adornments.

A few minutes later, Gibbs strode into the bullpen with his usual determined pace. He didn't even look up as he barked, "What do we have so far?"

Tony quickly sat up straight, tapping on his keyboard as if he had been hard at work the entire time. Ziva smoothed her expression into one of calm professionalism, though her lips twitched slightly.

McGee snorted awake at Gibbs' voice, jolting upright. "Uh, Boss!" he stammered, scrambling to find his bearings.

Tony turned to Ziva, barely containing his amusement. "Good morning, Picasso," he muttered under his breath.

McGee rubbed his eyes and noticed Tony staring at him with a suspicious grin. "What?" he asked, squinting at his teammates.

Ziva glanced at him, then quickly looked down at her desk, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

"Nothing, Probie," Tony said, feigning innocence.

Gibbs finally looked up from his coffee and narrowed his eyes at McGee. "McGee, what the hell is on your face?"

"What?" McGee asked, alarmed. He grabbed his phone and opened the camera app. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the elaborate mustache and goatee Tony had drawn on his face.

"DiNozzo!" McGee shouted, glaring at Tony.

Tony leaned back in his chair, hands raised in mock innocence. "Hey, don't blame me. It could've been Ziva."

Ziva's eyes widened. "Excuse me? Do not drag me into your childish games, Tony."

"You were here too," Tony said, grinning.

McGee grabbed a tissue from his desk and tried to scrub his face, groaning as the marker didn't come off easily. "I'm never falling asleep here again," he muttered.

Gibbs smacked Tony on the back of the head. "Enough, DiNozzo. Get back to work."

"Love tap," Tony muttered, rubbing his head but smirking nonetheless.

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him. "It was well-deserved."

As McGee continued to furiously scrub his face, Gibbs turned to the team. "We've got a new lead from Abby. She says the fibers found at the scene match a uniform supplier used by a private security firm. McGee, get cleaned up and pull the records. DiNozzo, David, you're with me."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, shooting Ziva a wink as he grabbed his gear.

Ziva rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept across her face as they headed out of the bullpen.

The team arrived at the private security firm's headquarters, a nondescript office building with tinted windows and a stoic receptionist at the front desk. Gibbs led the way, flashing his badge with a curt "NCIS," while Tony and Ziva flanked him, observing the surroundings.

The receptionist looked flustered but called someone to escort them. A few moments later, a man in a sharp suit appeared, extending his hand. "Special Agent Gibbs, I'm Carl Thompson, head of operations here. How can I help you?"

"We're investigating a murder," Gibbs said bluntly, bypassing the pleasantries. "Victim worked with your firm."

Thompson's expression turned serious. "Of course. Anything we can do to assist."

As they were led to Thompson's office, Ziva leaned slightly toward Tony and whispered, "I doubt he is that eager to help."

Tony smirked. "Bet you five bucks he asks for a lawyer before we're done."

"Make it ten," Ziva replied smoothly, keeping her eyes ahead.

Inside the office, Thompson offered them seats, but Gibbs remained standing. "We need access to your employee records, specifically anyone assigned to the area where our victim was last seen."

Thompson hesitated. "I'll have to run that request by our legal department."

Tony shot Ziva a quick glance and mouthed, ten bucks.

"Do that," Gibbs said, his tone making it clear that he wasn't asking. "In the meantime, we'll need a list of all employees working security details in that area over the past month."

"Of course," Thompson said, pulling up a file on his computer. "I'll print it out for you."

As they waited, Ziva glanced around the office, taking in the photographs and certificates on the walls. "You have quite the résumé," she remarked, her tone neutral but pointed.

Thompson chuckled nervously. "We pride ourselves on professionalism and discretion."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Discretion? You mean like not mentioning an employee might be connected to a murder?"

Thompson shifted uncomfortably. "Let's not jump to conclusions, Agent DiNozzo."

Gibbs cut in. "We'll draw our own conclusions. Just get us that list."

After receiving the list, the team returned to the car. Tony whistled as he scanned the names. "This is going to take some digging. Looks like half their workforce has worked in the area."

Gibbs started the car. "Then let's start digging."

Back at the bullpen, McGee had successfully removed the marker from his face and was typing furiously at his desk.

"Hey, Probie," Tony called as he dropped the list on McGee's desk. "Run these names against known associates of our victim. See if anyone pops."

"Already on it," McGee said, not looking up.

As Gibbs headed to Abby's lab to follow up on the fiber analysis, Tony and Ziva settled back at their desks.

Tony leaned over toward Ziva and whispered, "You owe me ten bucks."

Ziva smirked but didn't respond, focusing on her computer.

"Come on, Zee-vah," Tony teased. "A bet's a bet."

She finally looked at him, her expression cool but amused. "I will pay you when we solve the case."

"Fair enough," Tony replied, grinning as he turned back to his work.

The bullpen was quiet except for the sound of keyboards and occasional murmurs from McGee. But beneath the surface, Tony and Ziva's secret connection hummed like an electric current—unnoticed by most, but impossible for them to ignore.

After a long night working on the case, exhaustion finally caught up with the team. Gibbs called it a day, and they all headed home to get some much-needed rest. Tony and Ziva walked out to the parking lot together, their steps slower than usual.

"Finally," Tony muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I feel like I've aged five years this week."

"You always complain," Ziva teased, her voice lighter than it had been earlier in the bullpen. "Perhaps you should work on your stamina."

Tony shot her a sidelong glance. "Says the woman who could probably run a marathon after pulling an all-nighter."

"Probably," she said with a smirk, pulling out her keys.

They reached their cars, parked next to each other. Tony paused before opening his door. "Drive safe, Ziva."

"You as well, Tony," she replied, giving him a soft smile before slipping into her car.

They went their separate ways, both too tired to do anything but collapse into their beds.