No Strings Attached

Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: All she wanted, was a family, a baby. So she went to him, asking for him to give her the one thing she wanted, no strings attached. But the strings attached themselves, and soon, they found themselves falling in love. McGiva. Originally titled It Don't Mean A Thing.

She looked up, to see the light in his apartment flick on. She'd been sitting in her red Mini-Cooper for little under two hours, watching, waiting for him to get home. Instead of going home like she thought, he'd gone out with Tony and Abby, to the Ball and Chain bar down in Georgetown, to celebrate solving perhaps the hardest case of their careers. She hadn't gone with them. She'd stayed late to finish her report and then headed home. Well, headed to her car, and then driven over here, where she'd waited two hours, and had finally been rewarded with the flick of his living room light. Quickly, she got out of her car and rushed toward the apartment, scurrying up the stairs.

Carefully, she picked the lock, and slipped inside; he was back in the bedroom, most likely changing out of his work clothes. Good, it would give her a chance to corner him. Quietly shutting the door, she tiptoed back towards the bedroom, peeking through the slightly open door and catching a nice view of his back as he pulled his button down off. He'd gotten to be quite tone, lost a fair amount of weight since he'd started working out, and the sight of made her mouth water. She only briefly noticed Jethro sound asleep on his bed in the corner of the room. When she turned back, she watched regretfully, as he pulled on a pair of sweats, hiding his nice ass from view, and after a moment, she pushed the door open, slipping inside. Silently, she went to him, running her hands over his back, and down around his waist. He jumped, grabbing something off his nightstand and turning.

"Ziva?!" He cried, holding his gun, cocked and ready to fire. She gave him a soft smile, stepping closer.

"Hello, McGee." He took a deep breath, finally lowering his gun.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She shrugged.

"I wanted to talk." He uncocked his gun and returned it to the nightstand.

"And so you decided to follow me home and break into my apartment to talk to me?" He asked, hands on his hips. She thought a moment, shaking her head.

"I did not follow you home, McGee. I have been waiting in front of your apartment, for the last two hours." She replied, as casual as if she were discussing the change in the weather. His green eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped, before he shook his head, muttering,

"Oh no, because waiting is less stalker-ish." He grabbed a white tank and pulled it on, hiding the view Ziva had been drinking in. A moment passed, before he sighed and nodded to the kitchen, moving past her and heading to the stove. She followed, watching as he grabbed the tea kettle and filled it with water. "Tea?" She nodded.

"Yes. If you do not mind." As he left the kettle to boil, he led her into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa. Ziva followed, looking around the place before taking a seat beside him. She saw the latest draft of his next manuscript on the table, and glanced at it, catching a few of the phrases and realized it was another in the highly popular L.J. Tibbs series. Despite the teasing and hurt Deep Six had caused, she thought it was very sweet that McGee had used her as the basis for Lisa; for him to even consider her as a character in his bestselling series, meant a lot to her, and she'd told him so that night over drinks. He sighed, meeting her eyes, and she smiled at him.

"So, you're here now, I'm home." He noticed her gaze stray to the manuscript, and reached out, handing it to her. "Latest draft. Haven't edited it yet." She flipped through the pages.

"Do you need someone to read it? I can read it for you, McGee, if you would like." He shrugged, watching her.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I quite enjoy your writing." She replied, turning back to the pages, her eyes hungrily skimming over the words of his latest novel. But before she could ask about the characters, he spoke.

"Do you mind telling me what was so important that you had to watch for me and then break into my apartment to talk to me?" She opened her mouth, but the kettle whistled and he got up, quickly fixing two cups of tea and bringing one back to her. He watched her wrap her hands around the warm mug, the scent of chai wafting through the air. Taking a sip he set his on the table, turning to face her, his knees brushing hers. "Go on." He waited silently. She quickly sipped her tea before setting it on the table next to his. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, and tossed her head, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, as though she were preparing to testify in court.

"I have decided..." She stopped, licking her lips. "No. I want... no... I..." He raised an eyebrow, watching as she stumbled over her words. She quickly looked away, gathering her thoughts, before turning back to him. Voice strong and clear, she said, "I am going to have a baby." He raised both eyebrows in shock, and then gave her a soft smile.

"Congratulations, Ziva." He whispered, grabbing his mug and taking a sip of his tea. She watched him, taking a deep breath.

"And you are going to be the father."