A/N: Tag to 9x12 Housekeeping. Because I just couldn't let it end like. (Side note: that episode was amazing and every thing my poor heart was wishing for-except maybe a kiss ;) ) Just my thoughts on what happens after that phone call ends.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to NCIS. Sad but true.

She slammed the shot glass back down to the bar with such force the bartender sent a nervous glance at them over the noisy post-game crowd. He had to say he was impressed, she was already six shots in and hadn't even started to flush red or slur her words, although granted this could be because she had drank all six portions of tequila in only the past 20 minutes. Now that he thought about it, maybe it wasn't such a good idea if he let her take anymore.

He took a sip of his second scotch and glanced over at her, "Easy there lion…," he teased, "Don't you think maybe you should slow down just a bit?"

She turned to focus a slight bemused glare at him, "Is it not tiger? I distinctly remember you correcting me earlier…," she trailed off for a moment, losing her focus as the bartender set down another shot in front of her. When had she ordered that? He had to watch her more closely; it appeared she had ninja skills even when drinking. She swiveled back around to face him,

"And no, I do not think I should 'slow down'," she mocked his words with air quotes. Okay, now the tequila was definitely getting to her; she had never made air quotes with such relish when sober.

She reached for her next shot, but quickly he snatched it up from the bar.

"Hey! That is mine!" she reached towards him, and he quickly knocked it back himself, grimacing at the burn of the tequila going down his throat. Blech, weren't limes and salt supposed to come with this? He didn't understand how she did these straight. He glanced back at her and was met with a narrowed chocolate brown stare. Yup, she was still intimidating even when she was drunk, perhaps even more so than when she was sober.

"Tony...," she growled.

"Zee-va…" he drawled back at her, raising his eyebrows, "seven shots is a lot, how am I supposed to catch up if you won't share?"

She slumped back in her seat with a disgruntled "hmph", and crossed her arms over her chest, her icy stare never leaving him.

"Fine," she pouted, "but I am not paying for that."

Leaning forward onto the bar, she idly twirled around the straw in the water glass he'd had the insight to order at the beginning of their night when she walked into the bar and ordered 4 shots at once. They fell into a comfortable silence, and Tony couldn't help but stare at his partner. He took another gulp of his drink, watching her face fall even more as she lost herself in her thoughts.

God, this could have been such a different evening. They'd wrapped up the case, EJ was on her way home and safe, and he'd finally pulled together enough courage to actually flirt with Ziva David. Granted it had taken him almost 7 years to get to this point, but it was still progress, and damn if she hadn't flirted back. Then Ray had called, and he had to admit the CIA agent had ridiculously ironic timing. Ziva had been so close to answering his question, and then with a phone ring, the moment was gone. Sure, he could have said something, something to stop her from answering that call, after all she was practically asking him for a reason not to pick up; but he couldn't do it, he couldn't be that guy, the one who tried to break up a couple just because he wanted the girl. He'd been that guy before, sometimes inadvertently, and he refused to be that guy with Ziva. She deserved to make her own choices.

Looking at her now, dejectedly sipping at her water with a confused stare fixed on the wooden bar in front of her, he really wished he had stopped her from taking that call. He hated seeing her this upset, and he was fast developing a desire to accidentally shoot Ray Cruz for putting that expression on her face. He threw back the rest of his drink, and signaled to the bartender for another.

The barkeep passed by, setting another scotch in front of him, and simultaneously placing yet another shot in front of the Israeli ex-assassin. She tossed it back before he had any chance of reacting and immediately another appeared in front of her. Dammit, at this rate she was going to end up in the hospital or vomiting onto the floor of a taxi. Quickly, he grabbed the shot from in front of her and gulped it down. Well, this was one way to prevent that.

She whipped around to face him.

"TONY!"

He chuckled lightly at her outrage, at least he could still distract her from her thoughts.

"Ziva, my dear," he replied using her endearment from the previous day, "I do not wish to explain to Gibbs why I let my partner get arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct or why she ended up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I value my life after all."

Her face adorably scrunched up as she contemplated a response to his theft, and she opened her mouth to reply, but then it seemed she thought better of it. A sad glaze returned to her eyes, and she snapped her mouth shut turning back toward the bar.

"I suppose you are right...," she murmured into her water glass.

Sighing, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar. He supposed he couldn't avoid the subject forever. Although with the way she had hastily flipped her phone shut in the bullpen and practically ran toward the elevator with a casual, "Drinks now, yes?", leaving him only enough time to grab their things and jog after her, it sure seemed like she had wanted to avoid it. He was sure the seven or so shots were helping as well.

"So he's coming back to D.C. then?"

"Yes."

"When?"

She sighed and closed her eyes against the words, "Sometime next week."

"Ziva...," he started unsure of what exactly to say to her.

"I did not know what to say to him...," she interrupted him, abruptly turning her head to lock her eyes on his, "I still don't know what to say. He had all of these excuses...I mean...," she tossed her arm into the air half-heartedly, "...they seemed reasonable..."

"Ziva," he reached out and grabbed her shoulder causing her to give a small gasp of shock as he brought her body around to face him, "you have every right to be mad. No matter the excuses he gives you." He sucked in a frustrated breath willing himself to continue before he lost the courage to be honest with her, "You deserve someone who will call you more than once every two months, who calls just to talk to you and not just when he's coming into town."

She continued to hold his gaze, and she gave him a small smile not unlike the one she had given him earlier this evening. She glanced down at where his hand still hadn't moved from her shoulder and then back up to meet his stare, her smile widening just slightly.

"So...what should I say?" she repeated her earlier phrase, and he returned the smile.

"Whatever you need to," he returned not willing to break the staring contest they seemed to have started back up again.

With a bang the two shots of tequila were placed in front of them, startling them back to the reality of the crowded, noisy bar. He reluctantly dropped his hand from her shoulder as she turned back to the bar with a slightly drunken giggle and hurriedly took her shot. Chuckling, he followed suit with his own, finding amusement in the bartender's astute observation of their current drinking habits. Before he could set the glass down, another shot glass appeared in front of her. Damn, what did she say to this guy to have him so attentive to their party? Judging by the bartender's nervous glances at his partner, he guessed the ninja didn't smile sweetly to get her way.

Ziva made a move toward the newly filled glass,

"Ziva!" he shouted making a grab for the shot glass himself. Giggling, she lost interest in the shot glass and turned to face him.

"Now," she slurred slightly, effectively ending his admonishment, "can we please talk about something else?"

He started to argue, after all he should be responsible and drag her home so that she could sleep off what was surely going to be a horrendous hangover in the morning, but her eyes stopped him. She may have been grinning at him and laughing, but her eyes where practically pleading with him to change topics, she needed the distraction.

With a small smile he gave into her eyes, he always gave into those eyes. He took a sip of his drink.

"Fine," he stated, smirking at her, "but on one condition."

"Which would be?" she leaned closer to him, invading his personal space as usual.

"You need to stop ordering shots."

She chuckled, "No, I do not think that is going to happen."

"Ziva...," he began, but once again she burst into a fit of giggles.

"I have a better idea."

"Oh?" his eyebrows shot up, "And just what might that be?"

With the most serious expression she could drunkly muster, she brought the shot glass up in front of his face.

"I will continue ordering shots," she started waving the glass around in a circle causing some of the liquor so splash out onto the floor between them, "BUT you may drink most of them for me. You do need to 'catch up', after all, do you not?"

He could feel the effects of the stolen shots already starting to make his brain feel fuzzy, but he refused to let her continue to drink herself into alcohol poisoning alone.

Smirking, he replied, "Deal."

Laughter erupted from her lips as he took the shot from her hand and quickly knocked it back. Without warning another two appeared on the table.

Damn, he was going to regret this deal in the morning.

Two hours later, they stumbled from a taxi onto the sidewalk by her apartment building. Her hands clutching the lapels of his jacket as they stumbled around in a semi-circle trying to regain their balance.

Laughing at their motor challenged steps, they stopped moving and settled for standing instead, his arms automatically going around her waist to keep them steady.

"Sooooo," she slurred, her giggles dying down, "I still maintain that yoooou," she jabbed an unsteady finger in his face, "cheated." She was referring to his drunken idea for them to join in on the movie trivia night at the bar. "There's noooo waay you could have gotten more than me on that last round." She poked the finger into his chest causing them to both burst into giggles again.

"Well Zeeevaa," he slurred her name in between bouts of laughter, "Tony DiNozzo does not cheat when it coomes to mooviees."

"Hmph,"she snorted driving even more giggles from her lips.

Adopting the best mock offended look he could manage at this point, he defended, "You, Agent Daaveed, will jusst have to accept that yoou have a trueee moovie genius in your life."

Her giggles died down suddenly, and the look she gave him was uncertain, "You really want to be in my life?"

God, her face was so astounded and disbelieving as though she really couldn't comprehend why he would want to be a part of her existence, that he had to close his eyes to try to force some control over his drunk mind before he did something really stupid-like drunkenly kiss his taken partner. However, his control slipped slightly and as he reopened his eyes, he found his hand raised to brush a stray strand of hair back from her face causing her mouth to part slightly in shock. Seeming to lose all control of his body, his hand rested against her cheek as he continued to stare into her expectant eyes, and he opened his mouth to tell her,

BEEP! BEEP! The taxi horn blasted the outside world back into their bubble as the taxi driver yelled out the window,

"HEY Buddy! You comin' or what? I thought you said there was to be two stops for this fare?"

They're eyes shared one more bemused glance before they were doubled over, laughing and stumbling back and forth toward her apartment door.

BEEP!

"ALRIGHT!," he managed to yell on an intake of air, "Alright already, I'm coming..." He stumbled toward the yellow taxi door. His failed attempt to open the door at first try caused a renewed fit of laughter in his exotic partner. She managed to make it to her door and stumble inside the glass frame, just as he threw himself into the cab and it took off. He blearily watched her start to meander up the stairs before she was out of sight and he fell back against the seat.

"Dude," the taxi driver started, "I don't know why you got back in this cab, man. The way she was lookin' at you? Shoulda stayed..."

He grinned at the balding man as he slouched down further into the seat. Maybe, he thought as the alcohol began to fuzz his notion of the present,

Maybe someday.

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please take a second to let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate it. Also, I'm have a followup to this story that takes place during 9x13 so it should be up soon. :D