Disclaimer: My New Year's resolution is to own NCIS. ... No, not really. It wouldn't be half as interesting if I did own it :P

Spoilers: None specific.

Setting: Up to 10x10 "You Better Watch Out," because it works better for their dynamic in this fic.

It is NEW YEAR'S EVE! Everywhere in the world, for once in my fic-publishing life. ... *Counts* Well, almost everywhere in the world. Not anymore in New Zealand and the eastern parts of Australia. Man, I can't win! But Happy New Year, everyone!

Also, this is pure fluff. Because Anne squeezed it out of me like one would squeeze juice out of an orange :P I'm kidding. But it was her idea!

Enjoy, please review, and have a good year!

-Soph

P.S. I just watched an African-American gospel choir sing in Mandarin. It's awesome :D

Resolution

"Um … no."

"Oh, c'mon!" Tony wailed over the phone, making Ziva roll her eyes. "It's an hour to midnight; you don't have anywhere you'd rather be, right?"

"It's because it's an hour to midnight that I'd rather be in bed."

"You should be ringing in the New Year instead," he replied.

"With you?" she asked, and she might have sounded a little too sceptical because he fell silent. She sighed and said apologetically, "Wouldn't you rather be 'ringing in the New Year' with some champagne and a lady by your side instead?"

"You are a lady."

"Well, I am a woman, yes, but not … party material. You would find me very boring company at midnight."

Tony chuckled. "Does that mean we're not gonna kiss at the end of the countdown?"

She frowned at her phone, despite being well-aware of the fact that he couldn't see her. "You better not have any tricks up your sleeve, DiNozzo."

"You got that idiom right! Nice."

"I mean it!"

"Does it mean I can go over?"

"You can come," she grumbled, relenting. "But bring the champagne. I'm not going to provide you with any."

She thought she heard him yell, Score! as she hung up, and she chuckled and shook her head. It looked as if her plans to sleep right through the fireworks—with the help of ear plugs—had just fallen through, but a New Year's Eve movie with Tony didn't sound so bad, after all.

xoxo

"Do you have the champagne?" she asked as soon as she'd pulled open the door, and his bottom lip stuck out.

A large bottle of sparkling wine was held up. "Were you going to lock me out if I didn't?"

"It is a possibility." She retrieved the champagne from him and turned to go into her kitchen, leaving him to shut the door and follow her.

"Even with my charming wit and personality?" He watched her as she retrieved two wine glasses from her cabinet and pulled the cork from the bottle, carefully pouring out the liquid.

"Some things are to be suffered through with wine." She grinned and handed him his share.

He smirked and clinked his glass against hers. "You usually don't involve alcohol when you're suffering me."

"It is not usually New Year's Eve."

His smile faded a bit. "Speaking of, you've really never rung in the New Year before?"

"Of course I have. It is just not my … preferred activity."

"Hmm." He paused, appearing to contemplate that, and she held onto his elbow lightly as she guided him towards her living room.

"Come on. You are here to watch a movie with me, are you not?"

xoxo

"You are not nearly drunk enough to use that as an excuse."

She glared pointedly at the back of his big fat head from where it sat in her lap, but Tony didn't budge an inch.

"I'm tired," he whined unabashedly instead.

"And that is why you should have gone to bed by yourself instead of coming over to disturb my sleep with a movie instead."

"But today's a special day. It's New Year's Eve." His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

"It is only a special day if you make it so," she chided him, but sighed and rested one of her hands on his arm. Gently, she murmured to him, "Sleep. I will … finish this movie alone, but you will not blame me if I wake you up and kick you out in the middle of the night. I am not about to turn my home into a hotel room for someone who does not know better than to go to bed in his own apartment when he's tired."

She would sooner have taken a thousand bullets for him than wilfully ejected him from her home, of course, but he wasn't to know that.

Yet, when he burrowed further into the couch and wrapped his fingers tightly around her knee as if she were a giant teddy bear, she had the sinking suspicion that he knew her better than she thought.

xoxo

"It's midnight," he murmured eventually, and she startled, her hand flying from his arm.

"I thought you were asleep," she gasped, hoping that he hadn't noticed the stroking movements her fingers had been making against him.

"I wasn't really."

"Oh."

Before she was even done blushing, he'd already turned to face her with a smile curling the edges of his lips. "Happy New Year," he whispered.

"Happy New Year," she answered softly, and she couldn't help but to smile back. As her heartbeat receded in her ears, she could hear fireworks going off in the distance. "It's 2013."

"Yeah." Boyish enthusiasm lit up his features. "We made it another year."

"Despite the Apocalypse," she added, giggling when he rolled his eyes.

"I was actually going to say, 'Despite terrorists and nut-jobs and just plain ol' insane criminals,' but you ruined it, you superstitious woman!"

She shrugged indifferently. "The expression on your face was hilarious."

He huffed and turned away from her again, but she didn't miss the fact that his hand was lain right back onto her knee, seeming for all the world like it had always belonged there.

xoxo

"What's your New Year's resolution?" he asked as the ending credits rolled across the screen.

She hummed idly, reluctant to sit up and turn off her television just yet. "I do not have any."

"Really?" He flipped onto his back and stared up at her, looking genuinely surprised.

"It is not in me to make resolutions. You usually forget them by the end of the first month and you'd have to make the same resolution the next year. It is a waste of time."

His laughter reverberated through her. "It's a tradition, Wet Blanket."

She scrunched up her nose at him. "Traditions are meant to be followed through with. This is a fad."

"Hmm."

"What's your resolution?" she asked, and his eyes darted away as he muttered something unintelligible. She frowned. "What?"

His chest rose and fell heavily. "To make a move."

"To … make a move," she repeated, and he nodded vigorously as if it made sense. "On what?"

"You."

She froze, staring at him as he sat up slowly. His figure was tense and his eyes were now wary. He bit his lip, and she could feel her heart racing when she cleared her throat to say, "Me?" Really?

He nodded again.

"You never did make a move," she stammered, flattered and flabbergasted all at once. He scowled rather theatrically in what she suspected was a bid not to unwittingly show his nerves.

"You told me not to have any tricks up my sleeve!"

"I had not known that it was not to be a trick!"

"What, did you think I was gonna kiss you, and then … not?" he asked incredulously.

She hesitated, and he groaned, and it made her swallow hard. "Is it … too late now?" she asked tentatively.

He peered at her from the corners of his eyes. "Never," he admitted, and she found herself with her lips pressed to his before her actions had even registered in her mind.

Judging by way his body jerked, he hadn't been expecting it, either; he soon relaxed into her, though, and his lips parted and the tip of his tongue flicked out to taste her. A jolt ran through her and a moan found its way into the back of her throat; he pulled her closer urgently and she lifted her own palms to his jaw, kissing and kissing him until her head spun and she was robbed of all air.

xoxo

"I changed my mind," he told her hours—or maybe minutes—later, as he leant his head against hers and tried to catch his breath.

"About what?"

"That wasn't a resolution, because I've no intention of doing that for only a month and then forgetting all about it until next year."

She laughed shakily. "I will hold you to that."

He pulled back, hands on either side of her waist as he studied her. "Ziva?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?" she returned.

"Would you go on a date with me, if I asked?"

She smiled fondly at him and leant forward to trace his cheekbones with her fingertips. "It would depend."

He drew back again slightly. "On what?"

"On whether there would be a second date … and then a third."

His relieved grin was brilliant. "As many as you want."

"In that case, it would be my pleasure, Tony."

And then his lips were on hers once again, before she could even protest—not that she would dream of doing that in a million years.