A/N: I got such a great response to my first NCIS fic, it inspired me to put down my own little glimpse of a possible Tiva future. This is a snapshot of a time around 6 years on from now – just an idea of how things might play out for our team. *Shameless Fluff Alert*. Ahead, fluff factor five!

Disclaimer: Definitely not mine. I checked and everything.

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Third Time's The Charm

Tony was already exhausted by the time he dragged himself into the office at 0745. Dropping his rucksack by the side of his desk, he sank wearily into his chair and put his head in his hands.

"You're late, DiNozzo," came the pointed comment from Gibbs' desk.

Tony raised his head. "Have you forgotten you're not my boss any more, boss?"

"I may not be yours but I'm still Ziva's. So, where is your better half?"

"She had a doctor's appointment this morning," Tony said, wondering if the day-old cup of half-drunk coffee on his desk was still viable. "Yours truly got stuck wrangling the terrible twosome over to the crèche. After three hours' sleep."

"Doctor's appointment? You knock her up again, DiNozzo?"

Tony laughed nervously. "You say that like it's a regular occurrence, boss."

"Twice in four years. Seems pretty regular to me."

Tony sipped at the coffee and winced. Okay, he wasn't quite that desperate. Not yet, anyway. "In fairness," he said, "the second time was an accident. A combination of unfortunate timing, food poisoning and a condom that frankly wasn't up to the job."

Gibbs grimaced. "Spare me the details. You plan on telling little Anya she was an accident?" He fixed Tony with a gimlet stare.

"Of course not." Tony bristled at the suggestion. Both his daughters were Daddy's girls, through and through. "Happiest accident I ever had."

"Glad to hear it."

"You seen McGee?" Tony asked, waiting for his computer to boot up and noticing belatedly that his senior agent's desk was also unoccupied.

"He got a flat. Said he'd be here as soon as triple-A came out and fixed it."

"Who calls triple-A for a flat tyre?" Tony scoffed. "Geez, man up, McGee."

"Didn't Ziva change the tyre the last time you got a flat?"

Tony shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. "What's your point?"

"No point. Just saying." Gibbs smirked into his coffee. Hell, it had been worth letting those two break rule number twelve just for all the ammunition it gave him to mock DiNozzo. Although, he had to admit Tony had turned out to be a pretty decent husband and father, in the end. Kind of made him proud.

It had meant some shuffling around of the MCRT, of course, which he hadn't been too happy about, especially when Tony had dug his heels in about wanting McGee on his team. Vance had agreed to split the team into two groups of three – Gibbs heading up one and Tony the other – as both a response to the increasing workload they were dealing with and, of course, Tony and Ziva's marriage. The agency tried to avoid having husbands and wives on the same team if at all possible, plus this way both Tony and McGee finally got the promotions they so richly deserved.

Once Gibbs got used to it, and he never was good with change, he had to admit the reshuffle had worked out for the best. Tony had McGee as his senior agent, with Dwayne Wilson stepping in as the junior field agent – Tony had kept track of the kid's career ever since he worked with them on the Quantico bank robbery case back in 2008, and was quick to offer him the chance to make a permanent move to the MCRT.

Gibbs kept Ziva as his senior field agent, of course, at least when she wasn't off making little DiNozzos. The third member of their team was Special Agent Kevin Connor, who Gibbs was privately convinced still got his Mom to iron his shirts, but who made even McGee look behind the times when it came to technology. The kid was currently at his desk, typing away at about a hundred words a minute and pretending he wasn't listening to his superiors' conversation.

Gibbs was distracted from his reverie by the sound of the elevator opening and he glanced up to see Ziva and McGee walking in.

"What time d'you call this, McTardy?" Tony said, sorting his paperwork in the filing cabinet and acting like he'd been there for hours. Gibbs shook his head and smirked – some things never changed.

"Sorry, boss. I did call earlier to say I'd be late, but I guess you must have been away from your desk." McGee kept his face carefully blank as he made his way to his desk.

Tony narrowed his eyes and glared. "What are you getting at, McGee?"

"Nothing at all, boss."

Gibbs glanced briefly at Ziva, who was taking off her coat and booting up her computer. "So, how was the doctor's?" he asked, never taking his eyes off his own computer screen. "You pregnant again?"

Ziva stopped moving for a moment and looked over at him, before her gaze flitted over to Tony. "As a matter of fact," she said slowly, "I am."

There was a clatter and a yelp of pain as Tony got his hand trapped in the filing cabinet. "Don't you think that's the kind of thing your husband might deserve to find out in private?" he said, through clenched teeth, shaking his injured hand. "You know, maybe before you put out a bulletin to the whole office?"

Ziva shrugged. "You were already aware it was a possibility. And I knew exactly how you would react. You would freak out, as you do every time."

"Not every time," he said. She shot him that look, one eyebrow raised in question. "Fine! Okay! Every time." He sighed and sat down, his legs suddenly a little shaky. "Can you blame me? Every time I think I'm getting the hang of this whole 'Daddy' thing, you chuck another kid into the mix."

"I chuck? Excuse me, but it takes two to mambo, Tony!"

"It's 'tango', Ziva. You'd think you'd remember that one after that mission in Buenos Aires five years ago."

"Ah, yes," she whispered, her lips curving into a smile. They stared into each other's eyes, each lost in remembrance of entwined limbs, pounding rhythms, full body contact, moving as one. Eyes flickered down to lips, then lower. The temperature in the bullpen climbed a couple of degrees.

McGee cleared his throat, uncomfortable with all the staring. "So, I guess congratulations are in order?"

Ziva and Tony snapped out of their little trance and grinned at each other. "I guess so," Tony said softly.

"Who knows," Ziva said, busying herself at her desk, "you may even get your little sportsman this time. Then, you can teach him all about the Blackeyes and volleyball and the offside clause, and so on and so forth."

"Okay, firstly… it's the Buckeyes and basketball, as well you know. Secondly, there's no such thing as the 'offside clause' – I mean, there's the 'offside rule', but that's soccer, which isn't really a man's game, not unless you're European, anyway. Actually, if anyone's going to be playing soccer, it's going to be Talia… she's got a hell of a kick on her, you know." He rubbed his shin, remembering a particularly good shot she'd got in while he was trying to corral her into the bathroom that morning.

"She is three years old, Tony."

"Well, they're never too young to gain an appreciation of the value of team sports. How young d'you reckon they take them at Little League? She could be the next Mia Hamm!"

Ziva merely smiled and shook her head in amusement, listening to him make outlandish plans for their children's future. She thought of the newest addition to their family. This time, she was sure it was going to be a boy – she had been right about her first two babies, so she was confident on this one, too.

She looked over at her husband, who was now leaning back in his chair, hands locked behind his head, cocky grin firmly in place – damn, but that smile still made her heart skip a beat, even after all these years. She wondered absently if their son would inherit his father's charm, and thought that it really wasn't fair to all those little girls yet to be born, if he did. DiNozzo men were hard to resist – she could testify to that. Sometimes, when she thought of how happy their lives were together, she wondered why she'd resisted as long as she had. Still, there was no denying it had been worth the wait.