Tony groggily opened his eyes, a bit surprised since he didn't remember dozing off. Come to think of it, he didn't remember finishing work, coming home and going to bed either, but apparently he had. He was still staring around his bedroom pondering this when he suddenly noticed some noises coming from the bathroom, showering noises. This concerned him because, despite racking his brain, he had no idea who could be in there. Before he could gather his thoughts, the shower was shut off, replaced by the soft swish of a towel and the sound of bare feet on tiles. Tony was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that he did not remember coming home, alone or otherwise, when the bathroom door opened.

Ziva walked into his bedroom clad only in a white bath towel. Her dark hair was wet and tousled, and Tony's mouth gaped as he watched a few drops of water spill from the ends of her curls and trace slick lines across her skin until they disappeared into the top edge of the towel.

"What ... what are you ... how ...?" Tony struggled to form words, but his mouth refused to cooperate. He was partially titillated by the sight in front of him, and partially aghast that he could somehow have forgotten bringing her home, and letting her shower, and getting into his bed while she was showering, wearing nothing but his boxers. Not that he hadn't thought about it in the past, after all he was only human, and she was, well, she was Ziva. Which was exactly why he had never done more than think about it, he was too afraid of being shot down, quite possibly literally.

Ziva gave a soft laugh as she observed his expression. "Do not tell me you are getting a cold foot, Tony."

"Feet, cold feet," Tony corrected automatically. "Ziva, what are you doing here?"

"Fulfilling your fantasy, my little hairy butt. It has been five years. I think that is long enough to wait for page 57, do you not agree?"

Before he could answer, she licked her lips and released the towel. All objections, in fact, pretty much all coherent thought, fled from Tony's mind. Ziva gave another throaty chuckle and sauntered over to the bed. She bent down, pulled back the covers, and found Gibbs staring up at her.

Ziva leapt back. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to Tony. "What is he doing here?"

"What? Ya think you're the only one he fantasizes about?" Gibbs said.

Ziva's eyes narrowed further and she gave an inhuman screech as she slapped Tony hard across his face. "I let you picture me naked and you invite him into the fantasy!" She grabbed Tony's arm and dragged him out of the bed, forcing him to kneel on the floor by wrenching his arm up behind his back.

"Thanks for holding him there," Gibbs said as he administered a headslap so hard it would have knocked Tony to the floor if Ziva had not been holding him up.

"What was that for, Boss?" Tony whined.

"Picturing me naked while she's in the room."

Tony's eyes widened. "Are you?"

"Am I what, DiNozzo?"


Tony ducked, but to no avail, as Gibbs' hand shot out again and connected with his skull. These headslaps hurt way more than the ones he received at work. Who knew Gibbs would be so jealous.

Just then, another voice was heard from across the room. "Naked I could forgive, but this?" Kate said as she indicated her outrageous outfit.

Tony couldn't help himself, he stared. She was dressed as a schoolgirl, from the top of her headbanded hair to the tips of her shiny Mary Janes. A very naughty schoolgirl, whose tartan skirt was short enough to allow a glimpse of sheer panties and whose white blouse was unbuttoned all the way down to where a lacy bra peeked from between the buttons.

"I've been dead for years and I still have to suffer this indignity," Kate said as she marched over to where Tony was cringing on the floor and aimed a sharp kick towards his groin.

Fortunately Ziva had released Tony, and he was able to angle himself away so that Kate's foot connected with his hip rather than with other, more sensitive, regions.

"I think of you fondly, Kate, really, I do. But I'll stop, I promise. In fact, I'll never think of you again," Tony pleaded.

"Idiot!" Kate said as she kicked him again, this time connecting with his ribs.

"Hey, back off. It's my turn now," another voice said from the other side of the bed.

Tony was afraid to look, wondering what other person wanted a piece of him now. Suddenly his ear was pinched in an iron grip and he was forced to scramble across the bed to prevent his ear from being removed from his head. When he came up standing on the other side, he was face to face with a very annoyed Jenny Shepard, who was, thank God, fully dressed.

"Director, what are you doing here?" Tony asked in a panic. "I never fantasized about you. Although I did let you get killed, so I can see why you might be mad. I think about that all the time, but I promise you always have your clothes on when I do."

"You can think of me any way you want, Tony. That's not the problem. The problem is who was thinking of you." Tony stared at her blankly. "As long as you were around Gibbs had no interest in me," she continued.

Then she shoved him down onto the bed so violently that his head bounced against the wall and leaned over him, poking him hard in the chest as she spoke. "I wanted him back and I would have had a chance except for you." Poke. "I was dying and he still only had eyes for you." Poke. "It wasn't fair."

"You're not the only one who didn't get a fair shake," said another newcomer.

Tony looked up in relief at the sound of McGee's voice, and was glad to see that, like Jenny, he was dressed in his normal attire. "Probie, thank God you're here. You have to help me before I lose a body part."

"Now why would I want to do that?" McGee asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"I'm your friend, right, McGee. And I know for a fact that I have never fantasized about you," Tony whined piteously.

"So all those nicknames, McGeek, McGoogle, McClueless, and especially Elf Lord, those are just what one friend calls another, huh."

"Yes. Yes, I say them with love. Really. Like an older brother. Now please help me, I'm dying here."

"The nicknames I could forgive, it's Abby I have a problem with."

"Abby? McGee, I promise I never thought about her naked. Although I did sometimes picture her in that Marilyn outfit, but you can hardly blame me for that. Marilyn … Marilyn was hot."

"You still don't get it, do you?" McGee asked as he advanced threateningly towards Tony. "I hate that you're her favorite. Sure, we had sex, but when it really comes down to it, you're the one she thinks of first."

With each sentence he uttered, McGee's face tensed up more and more. He began to punch his right fist into his left hand, punctuating his words. "It's always Tony … Tony … Tony. You get hurt and she's a nervous wreck with worry. I get mauled by a dog and she worries about the dog. It's not fair and I'm tired of it."

McGee was now close enough that Tony could feel his breath hot in his face as his partner glared at him from only inches away. Not wanting to find out what sort of punishment McGee had in mind for him, Tony finally made a break for it. He scrambled across the bed on his hands and knees, a wild keening coming from his throat. As he reached the end of the bed, his foot hooked in the covers and he fell sprawling onto the floor. When his head hit the floor, he moaned and curled into fetal position, anxiously waiting to feel the blows rain down.

They didn't come and after a moment Tony rolled over, cautiously opened one eye, and found himself on the floor behind his desk. Gibbs and his teammates were clustered around him, staring down in curiousity.

"Bad dream, Tony?" Ziva asked in a teasing voice.

Tony scrambled back to his feet, glancing nervously towards Gibbs. "Uh, I was just resting my eyes, boss."

"Yeah right, Tony. And closing your eyes was what made you fall out of your chair," McGee said with a snort.

Gibbs shook his head in disgust. "Show's over," he barked, "Back to your desks." He waited until Tim and Ziva had left, then he leaned over Tony's desk and whispered to him, "Now you understand the reason for rule number twelve."

With a wink, Gibbs stood up and headed for his own desk. Tony stared after him in horror, wondering how on earth he had known about the dream.