Archive of Our Own

There’s something so fragile about the moment right before he asks an important question—it was as if he breathed hard enough, the air would shatter like glass. 

Where is mom? Tony thinks repeatedly, feet stuck on the floor of his bedroom right in front of the door left ajar. Light spills from the living room and he knows his father is home because of the sound of ice hitting glass. The gurgle of a bottle being emptied. The creek of the rocking chair as he falls onto it.  

Tony can feel his heart pounding. Since the sun had set, he had rehearsed that one question for what felt like a million times, whispered to himself and the safety of his bedroom walls until it was engraved on his tongue. 

Everything feels confusing. His head aches. His eyes are swollen. The corners of his vision are blurry, though he doesn’t remember when he’d started crying. 

By noon, Tony was waving his friends goodbye, planning what and where to play that afternoon. One hour later, his father was taking him to the hospital, and Mom was sitting at her usual spot by the television. By sundown, the credits of “The Little Prince” - which Tony had most lines memorized - were rolling, and when Tony looked at his mother, she had already gone to sleep. 

A sea of people had invaded her room and scared him, and maybe that’s when the tears started. Suddenly everything was a rush of beeps and hurried tones until there was nothing but a very loud one. It reminded him of a movie they had once watched and Tony waited for the doctors to care for her. 

They didn’t. They just gathered around, one of the nurses taking him out of the room. She hugged him, but he didn’t know the reason. “Finally at peace,” he heard another one saying, and maybe that’s when he understood. 

It was true that his mother was different. Her cheeks had sunken and she used a silk scarf around her hair now, but he thought she looked just like Grace Kelly. She had laughed and agreed, and that was when Tony saw that though her eyes looked different, her smile had stayed the same. 

She had told him she was sick. That she needed to take medication to help herself get better. Tony understood where he was and why, but Dad had told him she wouldn’t take long to come back home. To him, it was just a very long cold, and maybe his Momma needed some help to battle through it. That’s what the doctors had told him. 

But now they stayed silent. Tony stared at them while they all watched his mother sleep, machines and pieces of equipment scattered across the room. 

“Do something!” Tony had come loose from the nurse’s grip to grab a doctor’s arm, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. The man had turned to him with sad eyes, and as he kneeled to Tony’s level, he thought he was about to say something, but another hand grabbed Tony’s arm and pulled him away before he got the chance to listen to it. 

“Junior.” His father held him tight as he had never done before. Tony continued to cry. All he wanted was to go back to his mother, to hug her again, but the nurses now had closed the curtains. 

By then, he could only pay attention to the sound of beeps, suddenly turning mute. Years later, he would also remember the exact color of the walls. How her smile had faded just a bit. How painful the pounding of his head had been. 

Tony doesn’t usually cry. He thinks it's brave to keep it in. He doesn’t know that crying brings so much sleepiness, but he almost can’t keep his eyes open right now. The only thing keeping him awake is the need to ask that question. 

He finally opens the door, feet padding down the stairs. Peeking through the wooden columns, Tony catches his father's gaze almost immediately, and his heart plummets. 

“Junior," he says. "Good to see you, son. Come here.” Though he opens his arms for him, his father's eyes are unfocused. His hair is disheveled. Knuckles white from grabbing the glass of whiskey too tight.

When Tony doesn't indicate moving towards him,  his dad's face turns more serious. Sad even—and Tony's almost certain he had never seen him cry.

“Promise me one thing, Junior." Senior looks at him. "Never give your heart away to a woman. It doesn't solve anything. By the end, the real end, it will only bring you pain.”

Tony's not certain why, but the words make him feel hollow. He misses his mother, he misses how she brought levity to every situation. He misses his father not looking so lost and as Senior downs the rest of the liquor, Tony wonders if his mother took a piece of him with her.

They don't speak about what happened. Tony thinks he knows, but he has to be sure. There's just so much he doesn't understand. He needs to ask his question.

“Dad. Where is—”

“Love…" interrupts Senior, "Can do nothing. Find happiness in things you can control, son. I’m sure soon you’ll be able to figure it out. Don’t… don’t rely on it. It’s better to be a lonely man than a broken one. And loneliness is easy to fight, hm? Plenty of beautiful fish in the sea." His smile is plastered on his face. "But a man with a broken heart… that is no man at all.”

Tony stares at him and even with the multiple rehearsals he'd done in front of the mirror, the words die in his throat. His father looks strange and he can't recognize him. He's crying. They're both crying, Tony realizes. 

‘That which is essential is invisible to the eye,' both the Little Prince and his mother used to say. But Tony also thinks the most important things are very visible. 

Until they aren't there anymore. 

His father marries again. And then again. Tony has different stepmothers now. Or so he is told—he doesn't see them because of boarding school. 

He's glad he doesn't know them. He doesn't want to. Outsiders aren't family and not even his father feels like part of it right now. 

Though it's way more fun trying to get expelled than locked inside a hotel room, that's for sure.

Tony laughs at the night sky, his skin sticky with sweat. The calming sensation of a post-orgasmic wave sends his brain to standby, his body tingling with dopamine. That had been a good one, and with his arm around her shoulders under a blanket of stars at her old brother’s truck, Tony knew he wouldn’t regret it. 

Only if Mrs. Abbott made him clean the gym bathrooms again. But perhaps not even then. 

"Tony?"

He kisses her hair, looking deep into those gorgeous hazel eyes. "Hm?"

She’s unsure, frowning slightly. 

"Do you love me?"

"Of course, I love you, Sadie. I love your eyes and your face and your—" Tony squeezes her right breast in his hand, sending her a knowing look. Sadie laughs, and he watches her in wonder. Gosh, she’s pretty.

"No, I mean… Will we be together?"

"We are together."

"Will we be together... forever?"

Something unsettling rises in his throat. Sadie had caught his attention immediately from the opposite cheerleading team at his football game with her red hair and cheek dimples. Tony knew she was the hottest of the group, and a bet with his friends hurt nobody. Summer had been an absolute dream, getting drunk and then naked on various occasions, which all led to great sex. He had a lot to brag about. 

But he didn’t love her. He didn’t consider asking her out, everyone just assumed they were dating. Tony liked to peruse around with her smiling up at him, and Sadie was very energetic, so to speak. He liked the ones who sounded loud. 

A summer fling isn’t forever. But as Tony looks at Sadie’s eyes, they are so full of hope, he knows that if he says anything, she will be devastated. He enjoys the part he’s playing, though he also knows it’s fleeting. Hooking up may feel good, but sappy emotions and relationships are not his thing. 

"Well, I…” Tony averts his gaze, scratching the back of his head. “I don't know. Forever is a long time." 

“What about our wedding?” Sadie moves closer to him. “A big party on Daddy’s farm, all my cousins could come. I could wear a big ballgown like Diana’s, and maybe we could live nearby? A white fence and four children running around don’t sound so bad.”

“Four?” Tony asks, shocked. 

“So they can always have each other.”

Breathing seems more difficult. His chest constricts with the effort of coming up with a good-enough response—one that wouldn’t screw everything up that soon. He still enjoys having her close and wow, the sex. He couldn’t ask for a better gift in his teenage years. 

Now, he only sees how beautiful her eyelashes are. Years from then, Tony wouldn’t be able to forget how months later they were shining with tears when she caught him having fun with somebody else. 

“Wow.” Tony huffs. “Wow, Sadie, you… You really thought this through, huh?”

“So… Will we marry someday?”

“Sure,” Tony lies. “Sure we will.”

"Yes!" exclaims Wendy in the middle of the restaurant. She pulls Tony from the ground and kisses him, people cheering all around. 

The feeling of success washes over him. Tony's cheeks hurt from smiling so big. He's certain he turned into a better man than his father—Tony nailed the only proposal he'd ever planned to make.

Or so he believed.

Three months later, Tony would be giving the copy of his key back to the landlord, only to go to the store to buy a single mattress the following morning.

"Someone in mind, DiNozzo?"

Tony looks away from the shop display, smiling a bit awkwardly after Kate caught him red-handed. A lieutenant had died amid a big robbery today, and shattered glass is scattered all around their feet as they take the crime scene photos around the jewelry shop displays. 

Kate’s smile looks too playful for his liking, but it’s Tony’s fault she had seen that. Staring too long at a particular ring, he couldn’t hold back from thinking about his own story or… maybe the lack of one. 

"I'll pass.” Tony laughs it off. “Diamonds may be a girl's best friend, but they were a nightmare for me more than once. Better stick with the real jewels."

"Women aren't material goods." 

"Well, don't let them know I said that." 

He smiles his trademark smile and Kate narrows her eyes at him. 

"What do you think I am?" she asks. 

Swaying closer to her, Tony says next to her ear, "Caitlin Todd, our only hope?" 

Shaking her head, Kate laughs. Tony had always doubted if she had fully bought the womanizer facade he used so frequently or if he was just hoping someone would see him differently. 

"You should give it to her." Kate sends him a look. "Whoever she is. She would surely be happy."

"I can make her happy by other means." 

"You're such a lost cause, DiNozzo."

Glancing at the ring again, Tony wonders what Kate would say if she knew he was once engaged. She’d probably look as shocked as the others—but, to be honest, he also would never expect that coming from him.

The daze of a sleepless night burns the back of his eyelids but Tony manages to step out of the elevator without tripping over himself.

He hurries his steps so he can take McGee by surprise, but can’t hold back a little bit of laughter when he grabs his shoulders and turns him on his feet, McGee’s eyes going wide in the middle of the bullpen. 

"Promise me this, Probie.”

“Oh, what, now?” When McGee notices it is him he just frowns, clearly annoyed. 

“If I ever get into a coma,” says Tony, dragging out every syllable to make sure he understood. “You grab my shoulders, look me in the eye, and say—Anthony DiNozzo Junior. You still are a single man.”

Tony doesn't miss how McGee rolls his eyes and gives him a strong shake for good measure. 

“I need to say that to you while you’re in a coma?” 

“No, you idiot," Tony deadpans. “When I wake up, McWise. First thing you do. Write that down.”

“Another lover’s carol, Tony?” chimes in Ziva, smart eyes tracking Tony as he sits at his desk in front of her. 

For a fraction of a second, it unnerves Tony how easily she can read him, but then again, Ziva is as good an observer as it comes.

“Quarrel, Ziva. Lover’s quarrel," he corrects. "And no. Far worse. I went to the bar, right? Late-night last week, usual Thursday, a couple of beers. Nothing much, same people, same thing.” It wasn’t promising—at first. “I was trying to get Irene’s number but… That woman’s been way more than just around the block. And then.” Tony chuckles, the picture clear in his mind. “Then it enters a blonde, a gorgeous blonde.”

“And let me guess,” there’s an edginess in Ziva's voice. “You tried to flirt with her?”

“Not only tried. Succeeded.” He smiles brightly, recalling it. “Amanda.” 

Tony stretches his hands behind his head, looking at the skylight up above. “Pretty eyes, cute smile, the finest of the land. We got out of there soon enough. And in bed, woof. A pure-breed lioness. Nothing to say about that matter.” He catches Ziva’s eyes and wiggles his eyebrows, musing, “Our night was well spent.”

Ziva frowns, confused. 

“We all know you are a bit of an unbridled libertine," she says, "but I am not seeing your point.”

Tony’s smile falls. “My point, Thesaurus, is that my father was right.”

“Really?” Ziva’s clearly surprised, and probably has the right to be. Tony can count on one hand the number of times he mentioned his father to her, and it’s even rarer for him to agree with him. Senior’s past as a mentor and a helper was as scarce as Tony’s knowledge on the topic, but love wasn’t something he tried to dwell on much. Better to be left untouched. 

"Yes,” Tony says, suddenly bitter. “Don't ever give your heart away to a girl."

"DiNozzo?” Ziva huffs, her eyebrows shooting skywards. “ This Anthony DiNozzo enamored?" And it sounds like an insult, somehow. 

"Not anymore, David. Pancakes and sex might match, but not when there are children involved. Amanda asked me about it. Twice, already. In a week! Who does that? Time to flee."

"What is wrong with a little DiNozzo running around?” She chuckles to herself, making him even more self-aware. “Does she even know about the sperm bank?"

"I'd rather you didn't speak about it that loudly in the office." 

"Everybody knows you are a womanizer."

"Well, it's part of the charm.” Tony’s smile is bitter. “It runs in my blood, I have no choice.”

He catches Ziva’s gaze to find her studying him, her clever eyes tracking his face. Tony always fears she reads something in him that isn’t true, but it goes past his control to show her it isn’t. Making her believe he was the worst kind of man out there was easier than inserting any thoughts about him not being it.

Though he really believed it wasn’t all that difficult to make her get the ropes of casual sex—pheromones oozed out of that woman’s pores whenever she breathed. And by how they’d chosen to act in the undercover mission a couple of months ago, Tony was certain she understood what ‘no strings attached’ meant.

But even with all the memories coming back to him, Ziva seems curious when she asks, "You do not think of marrying someday?" 

And for a second, when their gazes stick, Tony ponders whether to tell her. That he’d had, that he almost did. That the thought of doing so sometimes still invaded him late at night. 

But his boss comes storming in, carrying a cup of coffee and sending him a look.

"I would not recommend it,” Gibbs tells them and throws the coffee in the trash bin. “Let's go. Dead marine, Quantico. Grab your gear.”

And as Ziva stays watching him, part of Tony fears she might have discovered it just by his silence. She was always doing that - prying into his thoughts with her Cheshire's eyes - and once again, Tony realized Senior had been right. 

Women are more dangerous than they look and know more than they let on. Ziva David carries daggers strapped to her clothes and expels in the investigating department. Her eyes track him throughout the rest of the day and Tony gets freaked out often. 

He wonders what her answer would be. If she would ever marry. 

Then he questions why he even cared.

It was inevitable.

Once Gibbs was gone, Tony found himself in a position where there was little to be done. It was his responsibility to take the vacant place, whether he was ready or not. He didn’t count on everyone being on board with his way of dealing with things - not at first, at least - but when Ziva stepped in to constantly put his ideas in order as if second nature, Tony believed it was inevitable for them to turn to each other for some, even if fragile, kind of support. 

He thinks it was her promptness. Fair enough, he also gave her some power when it came to decision-making, and Tony believed she never really had that in her life. Working for her father and later, for someone like Gibbs, this - as strange as the circumstances were - was also an opportunity for her to grow into herself. 

So when Tony spent the nights and woke up next to the piles of delayed paperwork growing worryingly fast, Ziva had been the one to put the coffee cup in his hands without him asking her to. She was there when bureaucracy became too difficult and every time they hit a dead-end, a glance at his tired posture was the only thing needed for her to address whoever needed to be addressed and give him a break without the others noticing what she’d done.  

It was also this strange lack of punishment. For the first time in his life, Tony was also his own boss, and since his time being a cop, the duality of freedom and having great responsibilities sometimes weighed a little to the easier side. Late work nights easily turned into midnight dinners and they could easily, so easily, turn into sharing rides home. Tiredness and summer constantly blurred the lines between them and it didn’t take long for him to crash on her sofa. For them to get drunk out of beers bought on a whim. 

For Ziva to ask him to stay. 

The first time it happened, they were both very drunk. Exchanging secrets seemed easier if mixed with ice-cold beers and his car’s air conditioner stationed in some diner parking lot. Summer was heavy for all kinds of reasons and when he leaned over to tell a joke closer to her face, Ziva had been the one to touch the arc of his neck and kiss beneath his ear. 

Tony’s fingers dug into her waist and he should’ve seen it coming when she pulled him to the backseat, the car’s windows fogging up as quickly as it all happened. The way she kissed was so familiar and it almost ached how he couldn’t be bothered with doubting if they should really be doing that. 

“Do you ever think of settling down?”

“Uh, dunno. Should’ve picked a better job for that.”

“Movie critic?” Ziva tries to hide, but Tony knows there is a reason behind her forceful casualness. 

He narrows his eyes at her, the way she cocks her head from the top of him making her skin shine with the light coming from her living room. They hadn’t been able to reach the bedroom that one night and now Tony wonders if it was his way of making it feel less real. 

“Or building boats,” he replies and hates how tight his voice sounds. 

He gently pushes Ziva away, how comfortable she is to stay naked around him hurting him. She stands and moves to get some water. Tony quickly puts his clothes back on but once she returns, he has to force himself not to let his gaze wander and if Ziva notices it, she makes no comment about it. 

They never once spoke openly about that summer or its implications. Though Tony knew he had no business staying so many nights in her place. Lines were being crossed way too frequently and he often forgot how young she was. As much as Ziva hid behind her sensual persona, it was the silent glances and frail after-sex questions that got him thinking—weeks passed by and he could notice her getting closer. Telling him things about her she wasn’t used to sharing. Kissing him differently, as if afraid it would be the last.

At work, she was his partner, always there if he needed anything. But during the nights, Ziva became so different he wondered if she knew everything was temporary. Tony didn’t have the heart to hurt her in any way. But with the passing weeks, everything became clearer. 

Once summer was over and Gibbs returned, Tony had a strange feeling running through his veins. It was the comfort that everything could turn back to normal, but also the relief. Summer had been so fragile he had no doubt it would fade away, just like the various affairs he had in the past. This one had been just too close. 

However, it was only when Jeanne Benoit arrived a couple of weeks later - bright, beautiful Jeanne - that Tony realized his talent wasn’t in charming women’s hearts. 

No. 

It was in breaking them. 

“What’s her name?”

A crew member leans against the frame of his cabin door, a toothpick hanging lazily between his lips. Tony follows his eyes to where he is pointing with his chin, a sly smile growing at the sailor’s mouth at the sight of Ziva in that tiny bikini, the one she wore when they were undercover in LA. McGee had been instructed to destroy the photos but Tony would never let him do it before salvaging a few. They now took the prime spot of his cork board in the USS Seahawk. She would absolutely kill him if she knew about it.

“Hey!” Tony puts both feet down from his bunk bed. “Stop staring, these are for my eyes only.” 

“Why did you hang them on the wall, then?” The man complains. He has a point. “She your girlfriend?”

Complicated question. Even a more complicated answer. Especially after what happened the last night before he was deployed. 

When they both thought they would never see each other again. Even if Tony hoped it wasn’t their last time, perhaps that part was still true. 

“What do you think, Stanley?” Tony says instead, standing up. He is proudly a full head taller than him. “Now go do your work or you’ll get extra by the end of the week.”

The man shakes his head, still staring at Ziva. Tony crosses his arms, puffing his chest, and Stanley finally relents. His eyes appear to know a bit of the truth, though. “No need for that, Agent DiNozzo,” he says. “She is a beauty.”

Stanley is right out the door when Tony sees his partner, another marine named Derek, also staring. What’s with the sudden interest in his personal life? Tony glances at the pictures again, looking at Ziva. Yes. He gets it. If that were another man’s wife, he would also want to know about it. 

“Plan on locking that down?” asks Derek, his curiosity getting the best of him. He was bolder than Stanley because of his higher position, but Tony was still surprised. That question always returned to him, asked by completely different people. 

They didn’t even know Ziva. They’d never seen the two of them together.

But he guesses it must mean something if there are three pictures of her among only one of the others.

Tony studies the pictures, unable to look away. After a full minute, he sends them his best cocky smile, saying, “Not your asses business.” And closes the cabin’s door, hoping to never be asked that ever again.

Paris can be quite a dangerous place if you’re doubting your own heart. 

Glamorous lights and the smell of perfume are already turning his head dizzy, but Tony tries to focus when Ziva arrives in their hotel room and takes off her red velvet coat as if she's some Hollywood star. 

In a heartbeat, Tony has the painful realization that she truly is a beautiful woman, and the thought stays with him the whole night. Traveling abroad always had that effect on him—a parallel life he could lead as if he was playing some part—and late-night talks while other couples walked hand-in-hand brought a weird feeling to his chest. 

Every time his hand itched to touch her, Tony fixed his lapel or glanced at his watch, to a point where even Ziva started to notice.

“Are you nervous?” She smiles, swaying closer to him. “Usually, you are the one that enjoys the trip more thoroughly.”

Tony glances at her nervously. “Paris. They say what happens in Paris can mark you forever.” It was a forbidden destination for men who weren’t willing to go down on one knee but, strangely, Tony felt like he wasn’t all that worried about that. Not with Paris making Ziva look so interesting all of a sudden. 

“Hm. A toast to that?” Ziva takes a sharp turn, suddenly grabbing his hand and entering a small alleyway to their left. 

She must have been there before because only Tony was surprised. 

The Eiffel Tower appears in all its greatness, its lights blinking as he looks up, the air leaving his lungs in a painful tug. It’s not in front of them but close enough, with a small café stationed in a corner of the patio. 

Tony looks at Ziva and sees her blinding smile, the sight bringing that flip to his chest again. 

Her eyes twinkle and for the tenth time that night, Tony wonders if she’s making an effort to charm him. After what happened in Somalia, the air felt different, lighter somehow. Her name often popped into his mind and, even though he knew it could be dangerous to cross the lines, they had done it before. 

“Shall we?” She then speaks to the waiter, asking for a bottle of wine. “Make Paris ours?”

Tony’s heart races but, for once, it feels right to tell her what’s on his mind. 

“Oh, Ziva.” He tries to memorize her beauty. “You are Paris.”

Tony doesn’t tell a soul, but when they wake up the next morning with his arm curled around her waist, he can’t control the urge to leave everything behind and stay like that forever. 

Paris is such a dangerous place for lovers. 

But perhaps even more if you’re planning on leaving the next day. 

There should be a small jewelry shop nearby, right?

He dozes back to sleep before he can act upon any foolishness.

CI-Ray his ass. 

Tony chews on the tip of his pen, stealing glances at how Ziva laughs at something she’d just read on her computer screen. Probably, an e-mail. Probably, from the boyfriend. 

It shouldn’t annoy him that much. Ziva was a beautiful, intelligent woman and this was the natural way of things. She would meet someone, eventually. She would fall in love, perhaps with a mutual friend, perhaps with a stranger. In the depths of his mind, Tony even wished for it—for her to experience the life she wanted, and he knew she wanted a romantic one. Under her ironclad walls, he knew Ziva wished for a partner, good company, and love in her life. 

But that wasn’t Ray. And perhaps that was why Tony was so bothered. 

Ever since their awkward conversation in the men’s restroom, Tony knew there was something about Ray that had got under his skin. It irked him how, after months of knowing Ziva, he’d arrived just in time to run the CIA business, regardless of her acceptance of it. She should be respected by a partner who acknowledges her job, her position. It was strange that Ray only arrived when he could gain some benefit from it and not before. They had talked for weeks then and none of her friends - or so Tony thought - knew about them.

The brother line also stuck with him. She says you’re like a brother to her. Tony replayed it a couple of times, wondering if it was true or not. He doubted she would talk about him like that. If he was a subject of their conversations at all. Did he see her as his sister? It was a weird definition. He saw her as his work colleague, as a friend he had known for years. But a sister? She would never share her life with him like that, never introduce him as her brother after what happened to Ari. She wouldn’t. But after that conversation, even Tony spent a whole night wondering why Ziva would categorize him as her brother if it was so hard for her to even tell him she was dating someone knew. 

Tony knew why she didn’t tell him. It was for the same reason no one knew about E.J. He couldn’t happily share the news that someone else was sleeping in his bed when that bed… Tony knew he and Ziva were bound to see each other because of their job. Complicated. Deep inside him, Tony knew the reason he wasn’t able to simply say he let himself move on was that he wasn’t sure she had. 

But she had. And as Ray puffed out his peacock feathers in the men’s restroom, Tony knew instantly he had been too naive about it. Of course, as her coworker, he would pose a threat. But he was not. Nothing could go on between the two of them right now and Tony even tried to ease Ray’s stress about it by joking about it. 

The common subject between them. 

Her.

Safe to say, he hadn’t succeeded. And as Ray floated inside the personal bubble of her life, Tony felt like he couldn’t do much except watch it all unfold. Watch what he feared happening with someone who didn’t deserve her. And to make matters worse, Ziva was so blinded by it, that she hadn’t the faintest idea about self-worth. How much a woman like her was a catch to common men. 

“Big night?” Tony tries to hide his interest. When she doesn’t answer, though, he looks at her, who is faintly smiling. 

Damn it. Curiosity got the best of him. 

“Maybe,” says Ziva, slyly. 

“Hm. So, it’s champagne and roses in paradise?”

Say that it’s not. Say that it couldn’t be farthest from the truth. Please, say that you hate him, that he’s bad in bed, and that you miss how much fun you had. In the past. With someone who wasn’t him.

She merely huffs, skeptical. “Can’t a girl be happy about having dinner with their boyfriend?”

Boyfriend. The hatred Tony has for labels suddenly skyrockets. But he plasters a smile on his face, trying to get more out of her. Ziva looks positively cheerful, unguarded hope filling her rosy cheeks. 

He swirls in his chair, hiding behind casualness. “So. You think tonight’s the night?”

Ziva narrows her eyes. “What night?”

Tony shrugs. “The bling-bling night. The ‘oh, baby, you shouldn’t have’ night while you’re eating your nails down to the quick thinking—what has been taking him so long?”

Tony tracks the smile on Ziva’s face. She tries to hide it.

“You have a strange way of defining things.”

For a moment, he merely watches her. A weird feeling blooms inside his chest at the thought of Ziva prospering on the romantic side of her life while they were once so dysfunctional together. Oddly, Tony couldn’t place it. It was between the jealousy of succeeding and the disappointment of losing a partner in crime. 

He stands up, watching her closely as he walks toward her desk. Ziva stays looking proudly at the computer screen, which he isn’t sure if he wants to see. Even the name ‘Ray’ quickly raises the bile in his throat. Only when Tony sits at her desk and crosses his arms, looking down at her sweetly, does Ziva glance up at him.  

“You want him to ask for your hand.” Tony tries to gauge her expression. “Do you think he’ll do it tonight?”

She looks at him, pensive. “I am not sure,” Ziva confesses. “Ray and I do not have common friends for them to give me clues.”

“I’m a common friend,” he jokes. 

“And do you have any clues?”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Tony was trying his best to be civil around them but he’d rather befriend Dolores from Human Resources than try again with a man like Ray. 

“No,” says Tony, placid. “Marriage is sacred. It’s commitment. It’s a fifty-fifty chance of ‘I don’t like this couch very much, dear, it’s hurting my back ’ and ending in divorce. A man getting down on his knee not to tie his shoe is too sacred of a secret to share this way, especially to the subject of the matter. Plus, he… Well. Let me put it this way. Unfortunately for us, CI-Ray does not lay on my bay.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you are still talking in English.”

“I could say the same thing to you, David.” 

Their eyes lock. Despite the playfulness between them, Tony quickly sees worry branding Ziva’s gaze. He bumps his elbow on hers, trying to lighten the air. “Look,” says Tony. “Don’t worry. You obviously like each other and are ready to take the next step… You traveled together, right?”

“We did,” Ziva nods. “We are planning a weekend getaway in Long Island, soon.”

Something serious, then. As always when it came to her, Tony tried to deflect seriousness with joking. 

“Did he notice the way you snore?” he asks, bitterness pinching his ribs.

“Ray is a gentleman. He did not comment on the way I…” Ziva realizes what he means and hits his arm. “I do not snore,” she argues.

“And pigs are flying,” he mumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Never mind. My point is—he likes you, right? And you like him and you’ve been together for a while… That is how a relationship works, Ziva.” Carefully, he leans over to her chair, saying, “You gotta have the patience for it to run its course. It will only have two probable endings, anyway. Stay or go. It’s much more simple than what you’re mulling over.” Tony lays a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Relax. I don’t think he’s planning to break your heart in a place like Long Island.”

It must have some meaning in what he says because Ziva stays looking at him for a while. Tony lets her, amused at how easily he could read someone as complicated as her. 

“Since when did you become so good at giving relationship advice?” she mused. 

Tony denies. “I’m not good at it.”

“You seem like it.”

“I just know you.”

Surprise marks her features and Tony gets proud at the feat. Secretly, he smiles, knocking three times at the wood of her desk before standing up again. It’s just enough time for the elevator to ding in the distance and for a familiar face to come into view, walking into the bullpen as if he’s late to some meeting he wasn’t even invited to. 

“Ready to go?” Ray asks as his way of greeting. 

Tony almost chuckles at Ray’s annoyingly good timing. Glancing at Ziva again, his amusement dies at how nervous she looks, straightening her clothes and frowning slightly. 

“Yes,” she says, clearing her throat. The air feels tight, strange.

She catches his eye again and it’s bigger than him—Tony encourages her, silently mouthing, ‘You’ve got this’ before he can think better of it. 

‘Thank you,’ she sends it back, also silently, before stepping to Ray’s side. 

“Have a great night,” says Tony loudly, brazenly, even though Ray hadn’t acknowledged him. 

Ziva glances back, smiling, just in time as Ray wraps an arm over her shoulder and leads them to the elevator. 

There it is. That weird feeling inside Tony’s chest again. 

Another ding and they disappear from view, leaving. 

And some sixth sense tells Tony ‘yes’ would also be the answer later that night.

He grabs his phone, dialing her number.

E.J. picks up at the second ring and if it was another day he would’ve joked about it, but after that conversation with Ziva he wanted nothing more than to stuff his belly with a full dinner and drink a fat glass of cold wine. 

Life is strange sometimes. Destiny laughs at your face at moments you’d never expect. 

Tony takes her to a fancy restaurant, partially telling himself it had no other motive other than to enjoy the cool spring night. But he knew. Deep down he knew it was just an excuse to mirror the actions of the man he saw leaving with his coworker moments ago. 

Ignoring his own frustration, Tony laughs. And makes jokes the whole night, ordering two different bottles of wine and downing his sorrows with candlelight. Agent Barrett is a good company, and it helps him he knows he’ll take her home later. It distracts him from the thoughts of someone like Ziva getting engaged, and to someone who he knew would never be his friend. Not in the way he hoped.

But life is very funny indeed. Barrett is looking at him with bedroom eyes already when he hears the familiar laugh, the one he would recognize everywhere until the moment he died. 

It’s like a bucket full of ice-cold water. He instantly knows this is a grave mistake.

A prickling feeling runs down his spine. Every cell in Tony’s body urges him to search for Ziva in that restaurant and he can’t believe he chose the only Italian one down the street they would remember forever. 

E.J. is mid-conversation when all the sounds suddenly turn muffled and… there she is. In the opposite corner of the salon, her back turned to him. He can see her straightened hair, and how it moves as she leans over the desk. Ray is smiling widely, gesticulating with his hands. Tony curses all his bad luck not to have chosen Mexican food or something less fancy instead.

Carefully, he sips at his wine. And glances at her again. Ziva’s hand is stretched over the tablecloth, Ray’s hand on top. Tony tries to see if there’s already a ring… but he can’t. He doesn’t even know if he wants to. Does he want to witness it? It could happen at any moment, the big question of the night. 

“How about,” he catches E.J.’s eye, “we skip dessert tonight? Let’s just go home.”

Against his will, his heart starts racing. There are just too many variables for it to go wrong—the addition of Barrett having a fancy date in the place he knows Ray would ask for Ziva’s hand… Tony’s gaze drifts to where Ziva is sitting again and for a moment—

For a moment he thinks Ray caught him. But then they return to conversation again and Tony isn’t sure. 

He’s sure he needs to leave, though.

“What do you think?” Tony hopes the slight edge on his voice is imperceptible to Barrett. “The night is still young for old folk like us.”

“OK. If that's want you want.” She laughs, clearly surprised. Over the table, Tony makes sure to touch her hand and Barrett quickly nods in agreement, easing his heart. 

If she notices the frequent glances he’s stealing at the odd table on the other side of the room, though, she does not comment on it. 

Not letting her pay, Tony takes out his credit card and is already standing before the transaction is even finalized, despite what it may look like. Running to get home with a woman. Barrett laughs at his speed, the facade of the joke. He hopes it can deceive her, masking how he’s in fact running away from another woman.

“Let’s go,” Tony says, grabbing her hand. E.J. giggles. His heart is racing. Still, they manage to make their way toward the exit. 

Tony opens the door for E.J., letting her get ahead of him. She’s talking about something he can’t seem to pay attention to. His feet are strangely stuck to the floor. 

Glancing at Ziva from the safety of behind one of the restaurant’s columns, Tony catches as she throws her head back, laughing at a joke Ray had said. She looks happy. He should feel happy for her. 

But something strange flickers in Tony’s chest. He wonders if Ray will propose soon. He will, for the looks of it. He wonders if it will be tonight. In a fancy restaurant, with dim lighting, candles, nice wine... Tony gets amused at how it would resemble his proposal to Wendy, years ago. 

He wonders if Ziva will fail. Like him. Probably, not. She would not. No one could mess up that badly.

It wasn’t his business. And as he watches her openly laugh while Ray sips on his wine, Tony decides to wish Ziva only happiness. She deserved it—an easy, fulfilled life, after so many heartbreaks in the past. 

Tony leaves the restaurant, following E.J. outside. Something tells him Ziva finally met the right man for her. Weirdly enough, Tony also can’t shake the feeling that he was sitting at the wrong table.

“I don’t even know what I’d do if I had to deal with all of that.”

Marriage. Commitment. It was a running joke that Tony wasn’t meant for it.

But she saw right through it.

“Elope?”

Run away. 

Let’s run away.

Surprise washes over him. Oh, she’s so clever. The double meaning strikes him as it almost looks like she’s asking him to do it. Would he? Perhaps even consider it…

Ziva looks down, hiding a smile. 

And deep inside, Tony knows the answer. He knows she knows it too. 

It would be fun. It would be a hell lot of fun to do it with someone. 

Someone. 

He stores the silent invitation away and when Gibbs comes storming in, Tony stays watching Ziva smiling, knowing that enough time has passed now for both of them to know that someone was - for the first time in so many years - more complicated than each other.

Germany. Berlin. His eyelids burn from long work days. Tony should’ve known that late-night car conversations were treacherous. They had been sharing the same air for too long. 

“Looks good on you,” he confesses. 

Ziva holds the diamond ring over her finger. 

Briefly, he wonders what would happen if they did just decide to run away. They were in a car in a foreign country, after all. Other than their boss and the office, no one would even notice their absence. How pathetic were they to not have friends, only each other?

Tony does ponder whether to turn the wrong exit, stay in there for a while. 

He’s sorry he hadn’t bought her that ring.

But just like every time he sees himself at that crossroad, her by his side, fate has different plans.

A small, simple ring burns inside the back pocket of his pants. He knows he won’t use it. Not now. Not this time.

“Please, Ziva. I can change. I can change with you.”

She would say no. And it hurts inside his chest. It breaks his heart. 

Ziva says nothing and Tony knows it’s because she won’t say what he wants to hear. Her hands cup his cheeks and Tony closes his eyes, inhaling her scent. Olive leaves and lime. The texture of her curls beneath his fingertips. Wind, strong wind. He wants to stretch that moment forever, even when they both know he can’t. 

He lets her kiss him, their noses touching. His whole heart burns, certain that this is fleeting. 

But he should’ve known. His father told him. 

DiNozzo men aren’t meant for permanent things.

Tony’s feet are propped on his desk, his hands behind his back, staring at the bullpen’s skyline on a particularly hot summer night. The stars are clear in the night sky, the sight of it beautiful as it mixes with the prospects of getting lucky later that night. 

He’s speaking to Zoe on the phone. They’ve been dating for a few weeks now, going out on the weekends and sometimes even to have dinner after a work day. 

“Of course, I wanna see it,” Tony teases on the phone. He looks around to make sure no one is nearby to hear it, then whispers, “I won’t have much chance to see that dress before I want to take it off anyway.”

Zoe laughs and he enjoys being appreciated. She invited him to be her plus one at a friend’s wedding and… well, Tony had no excuse to deny it. He learned from life now that if a good thing fell on your lap, he was better off not running away from it. Running away only brought him one probable ending: being left empty-handed, inevitable loss branding the trauma inside his chest. 

So he said yes. And now they were busy discussing their outfits for it, as much as Tony was very far from being excited at the prospect of having to applaud two strangers promising to be in love forever for the whole afternoon. 

Zoe jokes she wants to see him in a suit. Tony laughs. He wears suits every day. He doesn’t have the heart to remind her that.

Fidgeting with the drawers of his desk, the first one finally gets unstuck after months of being shut closed. Then he remembers why he couldn’t open it in the first place. Tony’s laugh stops midway, even if Zoe continues to babble on the phone. 

He stays very still, the simple act of breathing turning difficult all of a sudden. 

It shines like an unfulfilled promise—the Star of David, draped over old photos and other trinkets. 

He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t even want to see it again. 

But he knows. He knows that inside that blue velvet box right under that cursed necklace sits the ring he never had the chance to show to anyone. A diamond ring, lost inside his workplace drawer as if it wasn’t destined for the woman who sat in front of his desk for years. 

“Hello?” Zoe’s voice rings in his ear. “Are you there?” 

“Yes,” says Tony promptly, closing the drawer with exaggerated force. “I’m sorry. You were saying about how boring and unnecessary weddings are.”

Zoe laughs again. And he feels that if the lie deceived at least one person, then he may have a greater chance of believing it too. 

Later that weekend, Tony comes up with a lame excuse for not attending the ceremony. He appears later in the evening, though, drunk already and bearing secrets he wished he could’ve forgotten by now. 

Inside his goldfish bowl on the top shelf of his living room, Kate now swims around a brand new pearl—a diamond ring, small and simple, which sunk right to the bottom as soon as it met the water. He found it convenient—how both the women who will curse him forever can rest in the same place.

Now, he only needs to get rid of the Star of David, somehow.

Giggles echo from the other end of the corridor, colorful collages and summer announcements glued to the card stocks filling its brick walls. Tony stands with his hands inside his pockets, waiting for Tali’s final class to end for them to get ice cream like he promised her earlier. Loud conversation anticipates the freedom of the European summer break, and while Tony was glad they had more time now to enjoy fun activities, part of him couldn’t stand the heat or the long days anymore. And it hadn’t even started yet. 

Whispers and laughter come from behind a door next to him again and Tony’s head snaps to the sound. Intrigued, he watches as three women look at him and talk between them, surely about something related to him. 

He looks down, fixing his shirt. Nothing wrong there. More parents are waiting for their kids to leave class but Tony surveys them, trying to piece if he did something wrong. 

When he looks up again, one of the women approaches him, walking in his direction with a shy expression. One glance behind her tells him her other friends had been encouraging her to do so and uneasiness quickly fills his chest. Looking around, Tony tries to find some kind of exit, but she’s already in his spot, smiling with rosy cheeks. 

“Hi,” she says. She seems sweet. Blonde, with a kind face. “Are you Tali’s father?”

Nervously, Tony’s gaze darts between her and the door still closed of Tali’s classroom. Well, what more could he do besides tell her the truth?

“Yes,” he nods. “Hopefully, she hasn’t got into any trouble.”

Which was amusingly easy. That girl was a firecracker, fighting bullies and screaming in French. 

“No, no,” the stranger assures him. “She is a very smart girl. She knows my boy, Louis.”

“Louis?” asks Tony. The name sounds vaguely familiar but he wants to be done with this conversation already, deciding not to comment about it. 

“Don’t worry.” The woman smiles. “He already has a little girlfriend, as he likes to say. Celine.”

“I see. One step ahead already then, your Louis.”

“It’s just a girl crush.”

They were seven. Again, something that Tony decided to brush past if only to not dig too deep.

“Hm. We hm…” She hesitates. Anxiety stirs inside his chest as he waits for her to continue. “Sorry. I was just talking to my friends and we were wondering… Is there a reason why you’re always here alone? I know most mothers here but I haven’t seen Tali’s yet—”

“She can’t be here right now.”

Tony’s jaw is set. He knew it would come up, eventually. How he told everyone he wasn’t a single father yet Tali’s mother… never showed up. It wasn’t anyone’s business but he knew it may look strange. Complicated. It was complicated to even begin explaining how even he had no idea where she currently was.

“Oh.” Redness blooms on her cheeks, embarrassed. “OK. I’m sorry to intrude. I didn’t mean to—”

“No problem,” Tony cuts the tension short. 

Still, the moment stretches. The class hadn’t ended yet despite the loud conversation of children he could hear behind the glass door, which meant it was getting close. Tony stood waiting, trying to think of anything else to use as small talk as the blonde woman continued stationed next to him, also waiting for her kid. 

“I’m a single mother,” she says, quietly. “Louis' father died in a car crash when he was three and since then, I couldn’t… It’s hard to find decent men, nowadays. We’ve noticed you’re always here by yourself and that little girl obviously loves you to death…” She motions to her friends behind them. “They made me come here to talk to you. Are you single? Do you have someone?”

Pain slowly stains his heart. He looks at her, taking in the soft French features. Pink lips and blue eyes. She could be considered a beautiful woman, with kind eyes and kind words. But Tony’s heart breaks just the same—as soon as he remembers the rushed phone call he received two days prior. 

How is she?

Ziva. Where are you? He knew he couldn’t ask that question yet he asked every time she called.

She never answered it. 

I do not have much time. Please. Tell me how she is. 

She is… handling it. As usual. Summer break is soon, so we decided to travel for a couple of days. We will be staying at the Chateau de Saint—

Tony. I cannot. 

Please, Ziva. 

You know I cannot. 

Please. His knuckles turned white around the burner phone.

Tell me about her days. 

And so he did. Every time that she called, they never talked about what was happening, where she was, or what she was doing. He stopped asking after a while and decided to lean on what she could give him. Small updates like ‘I am one step closer’ and ‘not so long now’ were what kept him alive and, despite his best attempts to track her down and help her, Ziva was too swift with it. She told him she was keeping them safe and now with Tali in the equation… He didn’t push it. It was different now that they had a kid. 

Their conversations were filled with details about Tali. He told her about every inside joke, every stomach ache, every new friendship. On good days, Ziva asked to talk to her and Tali came back with stories about new countries and travel adventures Tony knew weren’t true. Still, they did what they could. They didn’t give up and just by knowing how much Ziva loved that little girl, he knew what she was doing had to be done. 

Otherwise, she would be there. 

She will soon be there. 

“I… I’m sorry.” Tony faces her, a sympathetic look on his face. “You seem very nice. Tali’s mother lives in another country, so she can’t be with us right now. I’m just filling a hole.”

The woman shakes her head, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry—”

“No,” he dismisses her. “No need to apologize.”

“I just assumed… You don’t wear a ring.”

Tony looks down at his hands, fingers bare. 

She’s right. 

Coldness stings inside his chest, self-pity laced with shame. He doesn’t wear a ring because he never got one. He never got the chance to…

He glances up again, seeing that pity now washes over her features as well. Somehow, a complete stranger saw right through him. 

The air kept inside his lungs suddenly comes rushing out as soon as the body of a child collides with his, jumping into his arms. 

“Dad!” exclaims Tali. “Let’s go get ice cream!”

Tony lets her down. Despite her energy to jump that high, she’s getting too big to be carried. 

“Sure, chipmunk,” he says. “Ice cream time.”

“Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla—” Tali starts listing the flavors. 

“Hey,” he interrupts. “Only two scoops this time.”

“But—”

“No buts, Tali. You still need to eat proper food or your mother will kill me if we only eat ice cream and you don’t want dinner like you did the last time…”

The mischievous look on Tali’s face tells him she’ll get what she wants at the end of the day. He tousles her hair and is still laughing along when the woman next to him gently clears her throat. 

“Guess I’ll see you around,” she says, her gaze disappointed. 

Shit. He talks about Ziva so naturally, that he doesn’t even realize it. 

“Sure,” says Tony, and she’s already drifting away. He watches as she meets her friends, who all look at him sadly. To be alone didn’t mean he was single. It wasn’t his fault, right? Still, he kept feeling like part of it was. Like he could’ve avoided it, all of that unpleasant conversation.

“Let’s go!” Tali pulls at his hand. 

And he’s left unsettled, looking at it. The absence of a warning on his fingers. 

Later that day, Tony buys a simple ring for himself. He starts to wear it from then on, despite everything.

The hotel bell chimes five times in the span of two seconds and it would be more than that if not for Ziva stopping his trembling hand on the white marble counter, getting annoyed. 

“Stop it. You are acting like a child.”

“The spirit of youth is what keeps me alive.”

“You just said that what keeps you alive is good food and relaxation. And that was why you booked this place.” Taking off her sunglasses, Ziva surveys the tall columns of the main hall and the palm trees surrounding them. Children run around them in bathing suits and white towels, and it isn’t even 8 AM. 

A shirtless man with a round belly slowly makes his way to the outside pool with nothing more than a tall glass of beer in his hand and Tony makes a mental note to ask him where he got that despite the early hour. Behind the main counter in the middle of the hotel hall, a tall glass window shows a wide pool with a cocktail bar, stationed in the center of all that translucent water shining under the morning sun. 

The air smells of sunscreen and saltwater. Tony would be happy to smell that until the moment he died. 

“That, too.” He turns to face her. “You cannot deny the opportunity to travel to South America when it comes your way.”

She sends him a dry look. “You just wanted to get away from dealing with your aunt Donna’s wedding.”

One of his oldest aunts was getting married for the third time. Tony had been present at the last two ceremonies to know well enough it would be filled with pressing conversation about his new job and when the second child would be made. His family was loud and buoyant and, now that Ziva had come back for good, all of them wanted to meet her. Just the previous month, he had to drag Ziva away from his other aunt Claudia’s claws after what was configured as a two-hour interrogation. They loved her immediately. 

“Yeah, cause the third time’s the charm when it comes to weddings, right?” sarcasm laces his tone.

“I like weddings.”

That piques his interest. Tony lays his arm over the counter. Where were the hotel staff at this hour? All at the pool? 

“Iron lady Ziva David enjoys spending hours watching two lovey-dovey strangers proclaiming their love to each other? How sweet,” he teases her. 

“It is romantic.” She shrugs. “What is life’s fun if not with some romance now and then?”

A wide-smiling man wearing a white uniform and a name tag that reads ‘José’ appears behind the counter, apologizing for the delay. Ziva focuses her attention on him even though Tony is still watching her. They start talking in Portuguese and she hands José their documents, switching to English when he wants to ask a question for the two of them.

“Just to confirm, is it one room with three beds for four days?”

“No,” chimes in Tony. “It’s one room with a bed for me and my wife and another for our daughter, who'd just turned ten.” He points at Tali, already playing ping pong with other girls at the corner of the hall.

He glances at Ziva. She’s blushing, which brings him tremendous pride. He knows it’s because of the wife mention, even though they aren’t married. 

Yet. They aren’t married yet. 

She was the one who said liked weddings and romance, though. Couldn’t he be romantic for a change?

Tony smirks at her disconcertion, feeling smug. 

“That is a good age for having fun,” says José, motioning to Tali.

“Oh, she doesn’t keep still,” Tony replies. “I apologize in advance to your recreation team.”

José laughs. “They’re trained for it.”

They keep small talk while he organizes their papers for the booking. Ziva is still tongue-tied, blushing slightly. Tony hugs her by the waist, squeezing gently, which brings her back a little. She smiles, rolling her eyes. 

“Here are your room keys,” José hands them the cards. “Breakfast is open on weekdays from 6 AM to 11 AM and on the weekends from 7 AM up till noon. Children's leisure activities happen daily in our children’s center, you can sign up at the tent on the right side of the main pool. Make sure to get your congratulatory coconut water by the cocktail bar. Have a very nice stay. Here, the sun is hot and the water always refreshing. Enjoy.”

Those words are music to his ears. 

“Thank you, amigo.” Tony smiles, saying, “The water looks so good it almost makes me want to burst through that window and dive right into it.”

“I’ll just add the window fee to your account,” jokes José.

Tony already feels relaxed. Ziva had gone ahead to call Tali to get to their room and he makes his way toward them. Getting into her space, he watches as she sends him a teasing look. 

“Wife?” is the first thing she says. 

Tony pulls her toward him, quickly stealing a kiss. “Fond of the idea?”

Ziva wraps her arms around his neck. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” he teases, laughing. He kisses her again.

“I thought you did not enjoy attending weddings.”

“If there’s one person who can change my mind about it, it’s you.”

He would steal her another kiss if not for Tali demanding them to go to the main pool which, apparently, also had a waterslide. Tony leads them to the elevators, the air still smelling like a summer vacation. Nothing like warm temperatures and cold beverages to up his spirits, along with the upbeat samba playing from outside. 

He looks at Ziva, who is still a bit flustered. It makes him smile, the feeling bubbling inside his chest. 

Maybe a couple of stress-free days were just what he needed to come up with a plan to turn that ‘perhaps’ into a loud and clear ‘yes’.

The sound of a ricocheting bullet echoes inside the wide garage. 

Tony ducks out of the way, hiding behind one of the range rovers stationed at the building where an important political meeting is taking place. Heads of government from all over the globe are together on the fifteenth floor drinking expensive champagne and discussing the oil shipment trade market. Tony had no business being there. But then again, his security company was quickly becoming one of the most searched in France, ascending to the good eyes of important people, in most cases politics. When he started doing this, a big part of him doubted he could ever pull it off. But find a couple of decent guys who weren’t scared of dying and you can get all kinds of jobs easily done. 

He had a team. Tonight, they are mostly stationed upstairs on the last floor, being the eagle eyes of the personal security themselves, guarding unknown exits and keeping hideaway spots free. Everything was going according to plan—rich people were laughing, their bellies full of shrimp canapés while old blues played from the grand piano, and more money than he could count was spent in a matter of seconds. 

It was going extremely well. That is until Tony found out about the murder attempt of one of the Croatian leaders, planned by a terrorist group led by six men who somehow managed to go under his radar and trespass the event.

Six men armed to their teeth who are now running after him in a wide garage with only a few cars here and there. 

Nothing but columns, wide space, and ricocheting bullets. 

It wasn’t even his fault. It was his partner’s idea to revise everyone’s credentials, follow the strangers to the kitchen, and then start chasing them. Down a flight of stairs. While she threw daggers over his shoulder as if they meant nothing but somehow always found their mark. 

Three men were already down. Tony doesn’t remember how they managed to be the ones being chased instead of the other way around. 

He pants, trying to catch his breath as Ziva counts the knives still draped in her clothes, looking very collected for someone who just killed two people. Tony counts four, no, five, still hidden under her silk dress. She leans against the hood of the car, unfazed as she lifts the fabric off her thighs and exposes the hidden weapon hooked inside her garter. Smooth olive skin and legs for miles. Unbound hair bounces over her shoulder. Tony swallows dry. 

“How come we never got married?”

He can see her disconcerted expression a millisecond before she squats outside their hiding spot to meet their suspects. 

“And you are asking this—” Ziva throws one of her knives with a flick of her wrist. “Now?”

From the pained sound coming from the other side of the patio, it doesn't surprise him in the least that she’d found her mark. Ziva looks at him with wild eyes, shining with what almost resembles betrayal, which makes Tony want to burst out laughing despite the circumstances. 

“Adrenaline gives me clarity,” he justifies.  

Tony stands abruptly, pulling her by the elbow and trading spots with her from behind the large car. Ziva’s dress swirls with motion as he fires his gun, the bullet meeting one of the bad guy’s feet, by the sound of his cursing. Foreign language starts to be screamed on the other side of the garage but Tony merely fires again, a grunt following as the body hits the ground. 

“You are serious,” says Ziva, shock lacing her tone. She stands up next to him, trying to locate the last suspect the same way he’s doing. 

“Yes." He's dead serious, for a change. "Bad timing?”

“Awful.” Ziva then takes the gun out of his hip holster again and shoots the man before Tony can even see him. 

“Great aim,” he compliments her. “Spot on.”

“Thanks,” she says nonchalantly. Something about how she’s panting and looks all sweaty from the run stirs something inside of him. Tony takes the gun from her hand and clocks it again on his belt. 

“Twenty years. And the topic never arose?” he asks, amused. 

Ziva sends him a look, eyebrows raising.

“OK, never mind.” He helps her balance as she gets the fallen knives up from the floor. “It did,” admits Tony. “But only a couple of times.” 

Watching as Ziva puts one of her high heels on the hood of the car to tie the one meant for her garter, Tony almost has to close his own mouth at how hot the picture looks. He can see the tattoo on the inside of her thigh - the dagger and the rose - and gosh, she’s gorgeous. Muscles flex at the motion of it and way too soon her leg is being put down again, the fabric of the dress hiding it. 

“More than enough times,” she says and he has to tune himself to the conversation again. 

They were talking about marriage proposals. 

Did she just admit they had talked enough about it? Enough for what?

“No.” Tony huffs, staggered. “Yes?”

Ziva starts walking, almost marching, in her high heels toward the fallen suspects. Out of instinct, he helps her gather their weapons to move them to a safer location. 

“Yes,” says Ziva, puffing at the weight of the man she’s trying to carry. 

“Really?” He helps her move them to a corner.

“Yes,” she presses.

“Then, why?”

Why hadn’t she agreed to be his wife, he wanted to ask. Surely Ziva means that by the pointing looks she’s sending him as he tries to find her eyes. 

“Well.” Done with the job, Ziva takes a fallen hair strand off her eyes. “You just never asked.”

Tony simply looks at her, incredulous. 

“Are you serious?” His mind is going one thousand miles per hour. But when he wants her to explain what she means, Ziva has already opened one of the emergency exits and disappeared down the flight of stairs.  

“Hey!” he calls. “Woman!”

As always, Tony has no choice but to follow her, catching his breath as he tries to stop smiling so wide.

“A toast to us all for reaching the end of the semester without any casualties.” Tony raises his glass. His team cheers loudly at the makeshift office party in one of the only bars opened at that hour down the street. “And a special toast to Miguel, who lost a fingernail but managed to not lose his pride.” 

The inside joke makes them scream even more loudly, downing their beers in one go. The bell of the bar chimes again and Tony stretches his neck for the tenth time that evening to see if he knows the upcoming visitor.

Despite the hour, Ziva smiles broadly, greeting everyone. They had just finished an important job and she had gone to put the kids to bed, not knowing if Senior would be available to take care of them past midnight. Apparently, all had worked out well because she had quickly found her way to a stool next to his, asking for a Stella over the sticky wood bar counter. 

“Thank you for coming,” says Tony, truly grateful for her presence there. 

Her hand hooks around his biceps. The lack of warmth he felt all evening disappears in a blink.

“I would not miss it.”

His coworkers are loud and like to party, banging on the counter as they demand more beer.

“And a toast to boss, who keeps us employed and alive!” screams a particular bold person, who Tony later identifies as Rebecca, the young woman who takes care of the company’s social media accounts, something he knew nothing about. “When will you finally end our misery and ask for her hand? There’s a whole betting poll about it in the office.”

A clamor of ‘no’s and ‘shh’s reverberates over the tiny bar, probably coming from the people whose bets would be influenced by his knowledge about it. 

“How do you know I haven’t already?” Tony asks, teasing.

“Where’s the ring, then?” asks Rebbeca. Another roar of cheers as she’s bold enough to face him.

“We work in the field.” But Tony is already smiling. It’s difficult to try to deceive them in an environment like that. “How about if she jams her finger on a gun or something? People don’t need a ring to be considered married, do they?”

“That’s such a lame excuse,” refutes Rebbeca, rolling her eyes as she sips on the beer.

“She is right.”

Ziva’s other hand had found his thigh. He takes it, fingers intertwining. 

“You said you did not want a ring,” whispers Tony, sending her a look. Her smile disappears under the brim of her glass. 

“What if I have changed my mind?” asks Ziva.

He meets her eyes again in the dimly lit bar. They’re playful, sparkling with a joke not yet known. 

“Then tell me at once so I can make a run for it.”

He traces the smile as it widens on her face, his heart beating faster somehow. Ziva leans over to him, hand brushing over the fabric of his shirt. 

“No need for that and you know it,” she says. “Besides, would you let Miguel win? He is the one closest in the poll.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Are we not trained criminal investigators?”

Ziva smiles at him and his heart flutters again. 

Under the table, Tony plays with her hand, thumb brushing it lightly. The contentment of his team is contagious, their loud conversation quickly making him feel lighter. Throughout the evening, he finds a napkin, twirling it in the darkness. 

Under everyone’s noses, Tony slips the makeshift ring on her finger, quietly wishing for it to be enough. He steals a glance at Ziva, who doesn’t seem to have noticed it yet. 

When she does, though, the world stills. Slowly, she faces him, the question dancing in her eyes.

Tony simply smiles, pulling her close. He kisses her temple, saying, “Accept this one for now.” 

Ziva is rendered speechless, which makes his skin grow warm. The moment stretches and Tony feels the butterflies again, feeling young under the silent praise of a beautiful woman. 

“OK,” she says. And it’s enough for him to have the urge to start running to the nearest jewelry shop or even empty his old fishbowl. See what he finds in the depths of old Kate’s treasure.

Tony paces around his basement. It’s 1 AM and he’s still in his office clothes. The conundrum has crawled under his skin and bothered him for the last week, controlling most of his thoughts and turning into an obsession. 

He has no idea how to ask for Ziva’s hand. He knows he wants to do it, he knows she’ll probably accept… Probably. Will she? She was romantically dysfunctional just like him most of her life but… now things were different, right? They had already lived under the same roof for a few years now, raising their children… It shouldn’t be such a problem. It was the natural way of things, for them to get married someday. Or would they simply spend their whole lives together not being husband and wife?

What bothered Tony was that this was in no way conventional. Ziva’s a woman who likes romance but he isn’t sure if first having a kid together and then taking a shortcut to sharing a home… He had no idea about the proper way of doing this. Did she expect big gestures? Candles and rose petals?

Under every life-threatening situation similar to planning out a marriage proposal he couldn’t fuck up just like last time, there was only one person who could save him. And so, Tony waits for the call to go through, pacing around in the darkness as a dozen questions plague his mind. 

How much is too much romance and how much is not enough? Is there any hypothetical situation where she would deny it? What about Tali and Junior, should they know in advance?

The call connects.

“I want to marry Ziva,” Tony blurts out. 

“Wrong number. Ask her, not me,” answers Gibbs. 

Running a hand through his hair, Tony tries to find the words. 

“I called to…” he drifts off, unsure of how to continue. He can feel his former boss' urgency on the other side of the call. 

“You need some sort of blessing?” asks Gibbs. 

“Yeah,” Tony admits. Blessing, words of encouragement, advice—

“I’m not sure I’m the right person for that.”

He’s right. Tony knows he’s right yet there wasn’t… anyone else he could lean on to discuss matters like these. In the marriage department, his father hadn't been much of an expert... but again, neither had Gibbs.

Besides, wasn’t this the proper way? To ask the bride’s family permission first?

“I know, but…” Tony hesitates. “Her father…” Eli David. Died. Also hated him. 

“DiNozzo. I’m not her father.”

“Boss. You know what you mean to her. Please, just—This feels important.”

“It is important,” Gibbs replies. Tony knows from the sound of machines in the background that he has already returned to his woodwork. 

“I can’t fuck it up,” confesses Tony. It is dark, the shadows following him around. The hour doesn’t help. His nerves are on edge after so long drowned in his own thoughts. “I need this to be properly done. I need this to work. I-I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But it feels right now. It feels like I’m supposed to be doing… this.”

The silence stretches. Tony almost thinks he won’t even answer it. 

“Sure,” Gibbs’ answer is short. As always. 

“What?” he wants to hear it again. 

“You have my blessing. Took you long enough.”

Relief floods him. “Thanks.”

“Hey, DiNozzo?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t fuck it up.”

From the man who detested marriages himself. Tony chuckles nervously, saying, “I mean, that coming from you—”

The line goes dead. 

He should’ve known. It was more than enough, though, for Tony to feel the excitement of his plan bubbling inside his chest. He got the blessing, he got the ring, now he just needs to get the girl.

There’s something so fragile about the moment right before he asks an important question—it was as if he breathed hard enough, the air would shatter like glass.

Tony stayed the whole day planning on just how he would do this. The words burn at the back of his throat, threatening to spill at any second. He picked out the date, he chose not to tell Tali - otherwise, she would surely ask Ziva even before he did - and he even bought flowers. But that wasn’t unusual, so Ziva didn’t even suspect it. Or so, he hoped. 

He had taken Ziva out on a date earlier that evening. It was a fancy restaurant, considering their standards. Tony had thought about asking her hand in public as he had done with Wendy, but… It didn’t feel right. During the whole evening, the blue velvet box burned inside his suit’s pocket, but also did the memories he tried to forget long ago. What was life if not a series of connecting events?

As the hours passed, he had lost the courage. Now the day is ending and still Tony hadn’t asked that question, the big question, even though he had practiced it enough times now to have it engraved on his tongue. It’s so simple that it turns into a big deal if he fucks it up. He had whispered it in the morning shower, in the Sunday run, at the park with the kids. Later, in front of the mirror before he drove Ziva out. So many times, he began dreaming of it. 

The air feels tight with the unspoken. Even though it is only he who notices it. They had returned home after an amazing date without diving into the topic and now Tony finds himself alone again, teeth brushed and in his pajamas already. 

The kids are in bed. He’s freshly shaved, the bathroom air stuffy with vapor. His breath smells of mint, his head hurts and his heart is hammering inside his chest. It shouldn’t matter this much, right? It wasn’t like the answer to that question could change his life. Right?

Tony steps out of the bathroom, padding in the darkness. Ziva is already under the covers, body facing her bedside table. He isn’t sure if she hears him but Tony can hear nothing but the loud beating of his heart in his throat. Surely she can hear it too. 

Unceremoniously, he slips under the covers, arm circling her waist. 

“Are you awake?” he asks, kissing her hair. 

“No,” mumbles Ziva back. 

“Can I ask you something?”

She turns to face him in the dark. “You already are,” she jokes. 

“Marry me.”

It hangs in the air like breaking glass. Tony can count the number of her breaths, one, two, three, four… Before he moves to take the ring out of his bedside drawer, the diamond jewel sparkling even in the dark. Ziva’s face tracks it, then turns to his. His heart is a gallop now but he has to ignore it. He has to push through. 

“It’s silly, I know,” says Tony. “But I need some grounding.” He loves her. He hopes it is enough. His voice is shaking and he's pretty sure the sparkling ring is moving with his trembling fingers in the dark. Still, inhaling deeply, he continues, “There’s no way I can live from now on without you in my life. I feel like the best part of me is mostly you. I want to see you be a mother, a partner…” Tony takes her hand. “Ziva David.” The name brands his tongue, his heart. “Stay. I should’ve done this a lifetime ago, please. Stay with me. For good.” 

The ring stays in front of their faces, both of them laying in bed. The city lights reflect on their skin and it’s just enough clarity for Tony to catch as Ziva’s smile stretches on her face, his heart swelling with it. 

“Alright,” she says, taking the ring and slipping it herself on her finger. 

“Alright?” Tony chuckles. “What kind of answer is that? Am I your best option?”

“You silly man.” Ziva kisses him. “Yes,” she says. And he’d never known such happiness. His heart threatens to burst as she wipes the tear he hadn't noticed had fallen down his cheek and says, “Forever is not so long, yes?” 

Tony kisses her again. He wants to kiss her a thousand times. “Not really,” he says. “No.”

And for the first time in his lifetime, it feels true.