That evening, Tony drove Ziva back to his apartment. He hadn't planned on her spending the night at his apartment, but she didn't want to go back to the rooms that her father had rented and there weren't any hotels with vacancies in the area. There was a big event in Congress that week and politicians and activists from all over the country were in town. Plus, Ziva had promised to make him dinner and he really couldn't argue with that.

Ziva hopped out of his car carrying a bag of clothes that she had picked up that afternoon and led the way up to his apartment. She waited while he unlocked the door.

After dinner they watched a movie. Well, Ziva watched a movie. Tony watched Ziva watch a movie, making sure she laughed at all the right parts. In a fit of chivalry, Tony insisted that Ziva take the bed. She flat out refused, instead opting to spread out over the entire couch in order to force him off. He returned the favor, neither of them gave in, so that night when Tony was woken by Ziva kicking him in the face, he wasn't surprised.

However, he was surprised by the way she was thrashing around. Obviously she was having a nightmare and Tony wondered why she hadn't woken him up earlier.

He sat up, wincing at the pain. She'd kicked him right where she had punched him during the fight. It may not have been his blood and there might not be a bruise, but the spot was still sore.

"Ziva?" he called.

She didn't respond and continued to move around. She said something in Hebrew that Tony didn't understand. It sounded like she was arguing with someone. He reached out and pulled her body closer, hugging her, pressing his chest into her back, shushing her and whispering in her ear the entire time. She calmed down somewhat. She was still muttering under her breath in Hebrew and another language he couldn't identify, but she had stopped moving. Tony pulled her tighter and rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. He dozed off for a minute and woke up again quickly.

He was not about to sleep sitting up and Ziva shouldn't be either. After contemplating it for a minute, he struggled to his feet and carried her into his room. He sat down on the bed and tried to push her away before realizing that Ziva had a death grip on his shirt. She wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't complain as he scooted himself up the mattress and settled Ziva into his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. He didn't bother pulling out the sheets since that would have been complicated with another person attached to him. He laid his head back onto the pillow and smiled when Ziva rooted herself closer into his body.

Much to his surprise, Tony woke before Ziva the next morning. He looked down at her curled up at his side. He frowned when he realized that she still had a death grip on his shirt. What had worried her enough that she felt the need to hold onto something that tightly? He ran his arm lightly down her side and his frown deepened. Why was she so tense when she was just sleeping? It felt like every muscle in her body was flexed.

He closed his eyes, pulling her closer and wrapping his body around hers, trying to protect her from herself. He started to run his hand up and down her arm.

Ziva woke with a start, trying to sit up, only to be pulled back down into Tony. She was about to ask him why he was wrapped around her in his bed when they had definitely fallen asleep fighting over the couch, but he beat her to the questioning.

"Why are you so tense?"

"She turned around to look at him. "I am not tense."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

"Then relax."

"I am relaxed," she frowned at him.

"Ziva, you are wound so tight it's a miracle you haven't exploded."

She continued to frown at him.

"Here." He rolled her onto her stomach and sat on her back, leaning forward to massage her shoulders. She tried to protest but Tony clamped his legs tight around her sides to prevent her from moving.

He alternated soft pressure and pressing his entire weight into her shoulders to release the tension. "Better?" he asked after his hands started to cramp.

Ziva turned around to face him. She looked up at him for a long time, an expression that Tony couldn't quite read on her face. She nodded once in confirmation. She did feel more relaxed. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him flush against her. His eyebrows rose up his face and she could feel his breathing grow faster against her lips. "Now, would you care to tell me why I am in your bed?" she arched an eyebrow at him, tightening the grip on her shirt.

"You kicked me in the face!"

"That is not an answer." She pressed her thumb into the bruise at his side.

"I tried to put you in my bed but…" he grabbed her hand that was on his shirt, "…you wouldn't let go of me."

She looked up at him, trying to maintain a poker face. He hadn't let go of her hand and he was staring down at her, not breaking eye contact, trying to read her expression. He moved a fraction of an inch closer. He pulled her hand away from his chest and pressed it into the mattress next to her head. With his other hand he smoothed her hair down behind her ear and cupped her cheek.

He made his decision in a split second, knowing that he might not live to see the day. He leaned down and kissed her. When she didn't push him away he deepened the kiss, tracing his tongue along her bottom lip asking for entrance. She complied and began to return the favor, matching his motions, wrapping her free hand around the back of his head to pull him closer. Tony pulled back, breathing heavily. He leaned down, intending to kiss down her neck and across her collarbone but her finger on his lips stopped him.

He looked at her, questioningly, worried that he had done something wrong.

"We have to go to work."

Tony looked behind him at the clock. "We have twenty minutes," he protested.

"And I need to take a shower."

Tony groaned.

"Maybe later, hmm?" Ziva smiled up at him and gently pushed him off of her.

Tony spent the day distracted, barely able to get any work done. She sat across from him at the empty desk and he could barely keep his eyes off her. She caught his glances from time to time, but for the most part, she seemed entirely focused on work. Tony noticed Gibbs' gaze on him once in a while and he would duck his head and pretend to work for a while, but inevitably his focus would return to Ziva. Maybe later… God he couldn't wait until later. He couldn't wait to kiss her senseless. He couldn't wait to press her body into the bed with his. He couldn't wait to kiss his way across her body. He couldn't wait to slip her shirt over her shoulders. He couldn't wait to curl up with her again that night. And he couldn't wait to hear her moan his name after…

Tony snapped his head down to his desk. Dead sailors, kidnapped children, bombs, Ziva saving him from a bomb, Ziva on top of him…

He stood up abruptly and stalked out of the bullpen, feeling Ziva's and Gibbs' eyes on him the whole way. He paced around the tables by the vending machines, scaring a couple from accounting as he did so.

After a few minutes, he calmed himself down enough to get a snack and sit down with it. Tony knew exactly what the problem was. Unresolved sexual tension. And there was only one solution for a problem like this. Sex. If it was going to happen at all, it certainly would be happening later. He couldn't understand how Ziva was able to focus so well. Maybe she was just the better actor.

He pushed back the chair and began to walk back to his desk. He ran straight into Ziva who let out a little "oof" noise. She had obviously been coming to find him. She took a step back and pulled a chip out of the bag in his hand. She popped it in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, without breaking eye contact with Tony. Her tongue flicked out and licked her lips before she brushed past him to the drink machines.

Tony watched her for a minute before walking back to the bullpen. He frowned at his desk and tried to continue inputting the records. The day was passing impossibly slowly.

"What's up Tony?" McGee asked from his desk, noticing Tony's expression and distracted movement.

Tony tried to wave his hand dismissively, but McGee was not having it. The one time the probie stood up for himself was also the one time that Tony could not tell him what the actual problem was. He glanced over at Ziva's desk, which didn't go unmissed by McGee.

"What? Did she beat you up again?"

"No!" Tony defended. "It's more like…"

Someone slapped his head, much more gently than Gibbs usually did. "Actually," Ziva's voice started, "I think that is pretty accurate." She paused while she walked around to the front of Tony's desk. "He has not gotten his rematch yet."

"Well, whenever you get to it, I'd love to watch Tony get what's coming to him." McGee turned back to his computer.

"Hmm, does now work McGee?"

"Now is perfect."

They both looked at Tony who was wearing an "oh shit" expression. The expression was probably for a different reason than they thought. He was more worried about what would happen when they were rolling around on the mat together than the bruises he was sure to get from taking hits. His voice was an octave higher than usual when he said "That works."

Ziva led the way happily down to the gym, McGee following at her heels, and Tony dragging his feet, a distance behind. He did not want McGee to watch this.

By the time he arrived, Ziva had already shed her jacket and her shirt, leaving her in just a tight fitting tank top. Tony decided that she was going to kill him, and he doubted it would be from a punch. He pulled away his jacket and loosened the tie to pull it over his head.

"You know, I really don't appreciate having to fight you in some of my best suits."

"Just take it off." Ziva responded without looking up from where she was adjusting the laces on her boots.

"Hah," Tony let out a mirthless chuckle. "In your dreams."

"I think that you are mixing up who is having the dreams." Ziva winked at him behind McGee's back.

Outwardly Tony rolled his eyes, but inwardly he flashed back to the excellent dream he had last night. He was certainly not wearing a suit.

Tony untucked his shirt, rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt like Ziva had done for him the last time.

"You ready Zee-vah?"

"Always."

It took exactly 30 seconds for Ziva to pin Tony underneath her and it took exactly 30 seconds for Tony to lose his composure and get painfully hard.

Ziva leaned closer to him so she could whisper in his ear, "That is definitely not your knee."

Tony tried, once, twice, three times to flip them over finally succeeding on the fourth try. He scrambled to his feet, bringing his fists back to a defensive position and spun around waiting for Ziva to meet him. He realized why she hadn't a second too late, but his legs were already flying out from under him. He hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him, gasping for breath. Tony barely noticed that Ziva had gathered his hands behind him and that Ziva was sitting on his back, until she yanked one of his legs back, bent at the knee to the point of pain.

"When you two are done playing grab ass, go help Abby with the security footage."

Tony yanked his head up to see Gibbs towering over him. "McGee started it, boss."

Gibbs' expression remained the same. "I'm ending it, although Ziva was well on her way."

Tony felt Ziva's weight leave his back. He groaned and stood up. Ziva was facing him, still wearing her the tank top which hugged her curves perfectly. She grabbed his tie and tossed it over to him before pulling on her shirt and jacket.

"Don't look so depressed. I didn't mess up your beautiful face this time." She ran a teasing finger down his cheek.