OK, so they totally shared a bed. That part is so obvious I won't even focus on it. What else happened, though... that's the question. It doesn't seem like sex or a kiss because of the way they acted, but it was something. I thought maybe, judging Ziva's looks, it was something emotional (not very, just a bit). Just what exactly... This is my scenario.

Spoilers for 7x13 obviously. Also, I haven't read any other tags yet (I will now), so if I 'stole' anyone's ideas, it is completely unintentional. Don't own NCIS, Paris, France or any hotel, fictional or otherwise.

Oh, I just remembered, I did read one. But it was a different concept and different place, so it doesn't count. Now enjoy!

"I am sorry Monsieur, but we 'ave only one room available," the hotel receptionist told them.

"Well, check again," Tony repeated. He knew from experience that sleeping in one room with a certain Ziva David would not result in much sleep. And not for the reason he wanted it to be.

"There are no ozzer rooms," the man repeated. "Eef you 'ad made reservations, there would 'ave been no problem."

Tony decided not to bother with explaining NCIS' policy of trusting their authority to get the rooms they needed.

"Well then-" he leaned in closer "-Jean, what do you suggest? She snores like a sailor, you know, and I need my beauty sleep."

Jean shrugged. "I do not know, monsieur – maybe there ees a way to shut 'er up?"

"Do you think I'd make such a big deal if there was?" Tony growled. Then he sighed. "Fine. We'll take the room. But you tell her."

"Tell me again why we have to share a room?" Ziva asked slowly later that night while she was selecting a fresh pair of clothes. "Because I thought NCIS discouraged it."

"They do," Tony shrugged. But apparently, 'there are no ozzer rooms', and 'eef we 'ad made reservations' we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Oh, it is no problem as long as you keep your mouth shut," Ziva said airily. "I do not mind sharing a room."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Well, neither do I usually, but it's a different when my partner makes sounds that match those of a drill."

"It is not that bad!" Ziva protested. "Be a man and live with it." She muttered something else, first in Hebrew and then in French, and then stopped rummaging through her bag.

At once, both sets of eyes turned towards the double bed. They looked at it for a while, then, as one, they both started talking.

"I'm not taking the couch."

They turned, closed their mouths and stared at each other, both determined to make the other surrender.

"I am a woman," Ziva told him. "You are supposed to be ... what is the word ... chivalrous."

"Chivalry is dead," Tony growled. "Besides, you're not a conventional woman. You've slept in worse places. Take the couch."

"I am not taking the couch," she replied, setting her jaw. He tried to pretend he hadn't seen the flash of hurt when he said she wasn't a conventional woman.

"Well, neither am I."

"Then, it seems, we will have to sleep together."

Tony grinned, despite knowing she hadn't meant it the way he perceived it. "It seems we do."

In the middle of the night, long after they had both turned in and closed their eyes, she suddenly sat straight up. It took her a while to remember where she was, that she was not in Somalia, but in France. Paris. With Tony.

She had been lying in bed. With Tony. His hand had been on her stomach, her arm had been on his chest, where it still was, and their legs were entangled.

The movement woke him up. He sat up, too, grinning despite the late hour. She could see his eyes; happy, teasing and worried.

"Are you comfortable over there?" There was tone of worry behind his lightness; she wondered if he knew what she had just dreamt. But he moved his arm to indicate what he was talking about, and she knew they would not talk about it.

"Oh, shut up," she told him. She lay back down, not removing her arm, and he did too. His hand was still splayed possessively across her stomach.

Usually she would have minded such an act. But tonight, she found she didn't.

Abrupt ending, yeah, but it was where I wanted it to end. I just needed a good final sentence.

So, what do you think? What are your theories?