A/N: People wanted more cute-ness, so here it is! Okay so the start doesn't necessarily look/sound cute, but don't count your Tivas before they've hatched. Okay, deal, I'll never say that again..

Disclaimer: Two little words keep me from having the rights to NCIS… Ownership Act. (if that exists, I'm real clever 'cause I made it up there.)

He's laughing with her one day when he realises it, and it hits him so hard his laughing turns into coughing and his coughing turns into choking, so bad that she runs over and pats his back, unknowingly making him choke more. He calms down eventually, though, breathless and with a mouth so dry he may as well have swallowed half a ton of sand. Gulping down a bottle of water- hers of course- he half wonders why he's been such an idiot. Dating any vaguely attractive girl, although he must admit that's been less frequent, flirting with every woman he speaks to, but then again that's not happening quite so often, going out with the sole intention of getting a girl, but then he's stopped that too. Maybe not quite such an idiot.

But he doesn't get how it slipped past him. It's obvious really. The more daring part of his mind wants to know whether she thinks the same as him, but that's just being insane, really.

He now understands why he's always dated, why he can't stop. It's not because he's afraid of commitment, because he's not really. The right person, the right time, he'd settle down, sure. That opportunity has just never presented itself. It's not because he needs to get laid at least once a week, or feels the need to break girls' hearts. He's not emotionless, he wouldn't do that.
It's because he can never be happy with anybody apart from her. It's always her, time after time and time again. There to help him, there to hate him, there to hold him, there to console him. She'd be there, full of life and with loving, warm arms. She's The One.

Which means he's stuck, really. In this endless circle, going round and round and living unhappily because she'll never want him. But he wouldn't do that, wouldn't revert back to his play-boy lifestyle and his constant dates. He couldn't do that to her. So he'd life his life alone.

He decides all this in a matter of moments, as he gulps cold fluid down his raw throat. He passes the plastic bottle back to her, a smile of thanks on his face, partly because he's got no idea how strong his voice will be, and partly because he doesn't trust his brain not to screw up and say something completely true and heartfelt like what was on his mind.

But as she corners him in the men's room later on, because he's a horrible actor and dreadful at covering things up (like feelings), he has to tell her something. And his feelings for her just sort of slip out in the middle of a sentence, and he only realises in the middle of the next sentence, because she looks incredibly stunned. He stutters, red growing through his cheeks and he clears his throat in an attempt to explain himself.

But he has no time, because she moves forwards and kisses him, the electricity practically sparking through their lips. She swings her arms round his neck and crosses them over at the wrists as he relaxes more, and he slips his arms round her waist and pulls her closer. And his brain runs wild, along with his heart beating fast enough to burst out of his chest, as he realises that he can feel her smiling against his lips. So he pushes his luck and deepens the action, and before he knows it, it's a full-blown fantasy of his, only playing out in real time, because they're making out in the bathroom and he's loving every second of it.

And they both know that they've found The One.

Note: Aand, we're done! : )