The hour was late, and the breeze that flew threw the open window was unusually cool. Tony could hear the waves flowing on to the beach, occasionally he heard the distant laughter of teenagers, but the sound he was focused on was Ziva's breathing. It was light enough, but far too rhythmic for her to be asleep. He turned on his side and saw her in her own bed looking up at the ceiling with her eyes wide open. It was almost lonely in the bed by himself. He wasn't used to having someone sleep in the same room as him and having them in a different bed, not within arm's reach.

He wasn't going to say anything - she seemed to want to be alone with her thoughts - but she spoke first.

"Did you know this is the third time we've shared a hotel room?" she said, her voice soft. It was a needless statement, really, but he still scrunched his nose up in concentration.

"Hm," was all he said in reply. Then an unsure, "Wait…" came from his lips. She could see the cogs turning in his head. "That's not right."

"Yes it is," she argued, her voice reaching its normal volume. She propped herself up on her elbow. "There's tonight, that time we were undercover as a married couple," she chuckled at the memory, "and…"

"Paris," they both said, catching each other's eyes. Ziva's heart sped up subconciously as lustful, somewhat explicit images ran through their heads.

"Well," Tony said, struggling to shift his mind back on track. "You're still wrong. Remember that time I took you to Hawaii for the weekend?"

She sat up fully, and smiled.

"We didn't share a hotel room that weekend," she said. "We fell asleep on the beach after we…" she trailed off.

He raised his eyebrows. "We what?" he teased.

She scowled, rolled her eyes and turned over, her back to him.

"Well, you were right," he said, laying on his back. "Thisisthe third time. 'Course, only the first time we've been in seperate beds. Night!"

And though he wasn't looking at her, he definitely felt the burn of her glare.