A/N: I actually wrote this for a friend on Tumblr, but realized I could use it here too! This is also semi-based on the fact that Ziva was in Tony's apartment looking all domestic in Shiva.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything related.

Tony: Well hello, little miss sunshine state. And don't you look balmy.

Ziva: I do not know what "balmy" means, but I will assume it is not good.

Tony: Well, just because I was alone, manning the fort, handling Gibbs solo, while you've been strolling around South Beach dancing to the rhythm of the night. Why would I feel the need to say anything negative? I mean...
Ziva: Because you are you. Besides, I was working the entire time.

Tony: Ha.

Ziva: Ha, what?

Tony: Are those tan lines?
Ziva: Where do you think you're looking?
Tony: Does it even matter?
Ziva: Well, actually yes, it does. And I can assure you, I do not *have* any tan lines.

Tony: So you did lay in the sun.

Ziva: Yes I did, actually. This morning before my flight and I came up with something case-related prior to my departure.

Tony: Mmm, you smell like ocean and shea butter.

8x01 Spider and the Fly

Vacations

The door to the apartment is unlocked, and he involuntarily shakes his head at the dangerous habit. She's home alone, he knows that much, and refuses to lock the door despite the crime rate of the streets below.

Her keys are tossed haphazardly on the kitchen counter and her laptop is left open. A parade of pictures flashing across the screen, a few specific ones bringing a welcome smile to his face. Her coat is folded over the back of the couch and her shoes poke nearly from underneath. His heart clenches at the sight, and he's not quite sure he'll ever get over the fact that her stuff in his apartment is commonplace.

In efforts to match her neatness, he folds his own jacket in half placing it over hers and slips his shoes off, gently pushing them father under the couch. Closing the laptop quietly, he pads down the short hallway to the bedroom. The only sound emanating through the apartment is the soft squeak of the floorboards under his socks.

It's oddly quiet, considering she's home by herself. Usually it's an opportunity for her to blast the music and dance around the halls in one of his button down shirts and boxer shorts, Tom Cruise in Risky Business style. He's walked in on her like that once, and he's sure it's quite the habit.

The door to their bedroom is open, and he finds her sitting in the lounge chair that faces the window. She's freshly showered, her wet hair falling in contrast to the white robe that's fastened loosely around her waist. Momentarily lost in a book, she doesn't notice his entrance, and he takes a few moments to watch her in her content state.

After a few moments, he gives into the urge to sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her neck, immersing himself in her warmth.

"You smell like ocean and shea butter," he murmurs, snuggling his face into her neck, inhaling deeply.

She giggles nudging him back, tossing her forgotten book to the side, "Well I can assure you that I have not been vacationing without you."

Tony perks his head up, bright eyes glistening and eyebrows waggling, "Mmm, a vacation sounds nice."