Work Text:
“Baby momma?” Tony asks as he swings through their apartment door, letting the last of the cool night breeze linger on their skin before closing it behind her.
“Absolutely not.”
“Erm… Oh. ‘Beloved’?” It came with a finger snap like he had just solved world hunger.
Ziva tils her head in contemplation as she pulls out the pins that hold her curls in some elaborate up-do. Spending the night at a fancy Parisian conference centre was not high on her list of favourite things to do, but getting to dress up and see Tony in a tuxedo has been more than worth the pain from her high-heels, especially if it leads to him saying adorable things like that.
His hands find her hips through the red silk of her dress and she drinks in the sight of him in front of her, bow tie slightly crooked and a smile so soft it sends butterflies dancing through her stomach. Her hands leave her hair and wander up to straighten the material, the texture smooth against her fingers, and she breathes in the scent of his cologne.
“What do you think?” he continues, miming introducing her to someone. “‘This is Ziva, my beloved.‘ I think it works.”
He looks so earnest and eager, she can not help the bubble of laughter that builds up in her chest. “It is sweet, Tony,” she chuckles. “But it is too old fashioned to be normal now.”
She slips off her shoes, enjoying the stretch from having them back flat on the ground and moves around him to leave them by the door. She feels his eyes following her as she pads around the hall and as soon as she is in reach, his hands are on her again. He has been incredibly affectionate tonight, and she knows part of the problem is their undefined relationship.
Every time they had to introduce each other they had stumbled, and it had resulted in both of them being irritatingly flirted with by random people until Tony had taken it upon himself to kiss her in the centre of the dance floor, staking a claim that Ziva had both loved and knew she should have been irritated by.
Hugging her close to his chest, she feels him breath in her hair for a moment before he sighs. “Well, what am I supposed to call you? You get annoyed when I always introduce you as ‘Tali’s Mom’. ‘Girlfriend’ isn’t permanent enough, not to mention the fact we’re not fourteen…”
“Partner?” she offers, leaving his embrace to wander to the kitchen for water, knowing he would follow. The apartment feels quiet without Tali in it, and she briefly wonders how the teenager is getting on at her grandfathers. They had not had much time to debrief after their summer of running around Europe, and the worry lingers within Ziva that the damage done to their child was only just beginning to manifest.
Tony’s scoff behind her brings her back to the present, and she drinks her water before offering him the glass which he declines along with her suggestion. “No, you’re my partner at work. It needs to be more distinct than that, so unless you’re thinking about marrying me anytime soon, I think I’ll go with… Consort.”
“Consort?” she replies with a blink. It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed marriage, so her focus falls on the strange choice in descriptive. The glass went into the sink and by the time she turns to face him he is already close behind her.
“Yeah, like Royalty.”
“So this makes you the King?”
“That’s right,” he replies, stepping into her space. His hands rest on the counter on either side of her waist and she finds his eyes glued to her lips. “And you, my dear, are my queen.”
He kisses her then, hard and deep, hand moving quickly to cup her jaw and angle her head so he can taste her properly. Ziva used to half-hate how well he could play her with just a kiss, but now that they were… whatever this undefinable thing is, she loves every second of it. She loves letting him dominate their kisses, at least to start with. Feeling his unabashed need to have her mouth pliant and needy under his was power and surrender all rolled into one.
They pull back, breathless and he rests his forehead on hers. “I think people will find it strange if you start introducing me as your queen, ahuvi,” she murmurs, eyes slipping shut as his hands wander, trailing gently down her neck and over her collarbones, before ghosting down her arms to take her hands.
“Oh, well… then maybe you should just marry me. I’d rather tell people you’re my wife, anyway.”
She huffs a laugh. “Is this your way of proposing to me, Tony?”
“Hell no,” he replies, but it is muffled by her hair and skin as he presses kisses into her neck. Pulling back, he meets her eyes. “When I propose, there will be lights and flowers and romantic music. I’ll have some soppy speech prepared and forget all of it because you’re too beautiful to concentrate.”
She leans back, giving him access to move of her skin as he returns his mouth there. “Is that so?” she manages to press out, distracted by his wandering hands.
“Mm, until then,” he starts. “I know just what to call you.”
Following as he starts backing them towards their bedroom, she gives into temptation and asks, “What will you call me?”
At their bedroom door he stops, cupping her jaw and pressing a soft kiss to her nose. “Mine.”
And she was, wholeheartedly. She would follow him anywhere in the word, just as he had for her. Together, and Tali were here home, her entire heart.
“Yes,” she replies with a soft smile. She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his lips quickly, using the suit jacket he still had not removed to pull him close. “Yours.”
He steps back then, gesturing for her to open the door. It is a strange move from him, but not one she is going to stop and question. Not when he is looking at her like he has been plotting many different ways to remove her dress all night.
The door opens inwards, she takes a step inside and the breath in her lungs seems to vacate faster than she thought possible.
Oh.
Tears sting the back of her eyes as she takes in the sight before her. Fairy lights adorn every surface, trails of the little glowing balls dangling from the curtain rails, around the edges of the bed and along the family pictures pinned to their wall. The fabric curtains are pulled shut, but the breeze from the open window lifts them slightly, and the moving fabric catches the light casting shadows dancing over the walls.
All around the surfaces, different sized candles glow, their tiny flames filling the space with the scent of vanilla and bergamot. No, not just the candles, beautiful bouquets of roses and lilies are perched on either side of their bed, their bright flowers standing out against the soft duck egg blue of their bed sheets.
It is breath-taking. It is too much.
She cannot take it all in.
In the background she hears a click and then the slow, soft tenor of Neil Young begins to fill the space. Everything about this moment was so magical, Ziva wonders if it were real and, as though reading her thoughts, Tony steps behind her, his hands returning to their spot around her waist and his warmth immediately grounds her.
“Tony…” she breathes out, unsure if this was actually happening.
“Pretty sure I promised lights,” he whispers into her ear, his voice catching slightly. “And flowers.”
Ziva cannot speak. Her throat has closed with overwhelming emotion as she spots the scattered rose petals on their bedspread, the deep crimson stark against the light duvet. She had not even seen them at first, too captivated by the twinkling lights and candles.
“And music,” he continues, his hands sliding around her waist to meet at the front. “And now I’m supposed to forget everything I wanted to say because you look too beautiful.”
She turns in his arms, the silk of her dress rustling between them. His eyes are bright in the glow of the fairy lights, flecks of gold catching in the green. The vulnerability there makes her heart stutter and her breath hitch.
“Lucky for me,” he said. “You always do, so I’ve had practice.”
“Tony...” she manages, her voice barely audible over the music. She seems only to be able to get one word out at at time, but if he is asking what she thinks he is asking, then that will not be a problem.
He takes a small step back, giving just enough space between them for him to reach into his pocket to pull out a small box, its black velvet absorbing the low light as he held it between them.
“You have no idea how hard this was to keep hidden from you,” he confesses. “These last few months have been a nightmare.”
“Months?” Again with the one word answer. She needed to pull herself together, but this whole things was just too romantic, too soft, so overwhelmingly Tony. She felt like a girl again, the butterflies and the anticipation made her feel like she was floating.
He laughs at her surprise, and she wonders how he can be so calm doing this.
“Yeah, months. Hell, I’d have done this years ago if I thought you’d say yes.”
And then he drops to one knee, and her world condenses into that room, just the two of them, like a bubble of light had enveloped them for this one special moment.
“Ziva, I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember. I’ve been proud of you, worried about you, happy for you, angry with you… But I have always, always loved you.” He pauses, and she watches as he wipes the corners of his eyes, laughing slightly at himself. “There’s been a lot of uncertainty. A lot of change. And through all of it, the main thing I’ve learned is that there is no me without you. You are my home, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He opens the box with slightly trembling fingers, revealing a ring that catches the fairy lights and throws tiny rainbows across his face. The diamond isn't ostentatious, but perfectly shaped and surrounded by smaller sapphires that remind her of the Mediterranean.
“Ziva David, will you marry me?”
She cannot breathe. Cannot think. The world narrows to just his face looking up at her with such hope, such vulnerability that her heart feels like it might burst from her chest. All the years between them, all the pain and all the struggles once finding each other again have been worth it. All of it matters and none of it matters, because she has known the answer to his question for more years than she would ever confess.
“Yes,” she whispers, cupping his face. “Yes, Tony. Of course I will.”
His smile broadens, and he slides the ring onto her finger with hands that still are not steady. The metal is cool against her skin, but warms immediately as he squeezes her hands. It fits perfectly. Of course it does. Tony would have made sure of that.
He rises to his feet and captures her mouth with his, kissing her with such tender passion that her knees weaken. His arms encircle her for support, holding her against him as if he might never let go. She tastes salt and realizes they're both crying, but cannot find it in herself to mind. She has found her home and she has never been more certain that it is here to stay.
They hold each other for a while, swaying to Elvis then Sinatra, soaking in the changes their relationship is about to take.
Ziva glances up at him, appreciation for the effort he put into making this night perfect bubbling up until she could not help but kiss him again. And again. “I love you,” she mumbles quietly as she rest her head on his chest again for a moment, before the change in music catches her attention. “Is this Taylor Swift?” she asks, eyebrow raising in his direction.
Tony chuckles and pulls her back in. “Ah, yeah. How do you think this place ended up looking like santas grotto and the love tunnel had a baby while we were out? Tali helped me plan it all. Her and senior decorated.”
Ziva knew the surprise was evident on her face because he continued. “In my defence, I gave her a list of songs I wanted, it’s not my fault she added to it. She's been driving me crazy with ideas for weeks. The fairy lights were non-negotiable, apparently. And she made me promise to record your reaction.”
Ziva glances around the room again, suddenly suspicious. “You are recording this?”
“No,” Tony laughs, spinning her gently to the music. “I told her some moments are just for us. She begrudgingly accepted that, but only after making me swear to tell her every detail.”
“She is defiantly your child.”
“She’s defiantly our child.” He replies and grants her another kiss, one she does not let end when he pulls back. He gets a millimetre away before she is tugging him back, no longer satisfied with his tender kisses.
“Our child is out tonight,” she whispers against his lips. “Or would you rather go out again and introduce me to someone as your fiancée?”
“Mm,” he grunts, already pushing her back towards their rose covered bed, hands searching for the zip of her dress. “We’ll go out for breakfast and tell people then.”
The back of her knees hit the bed and she sits, looking up into the handsome face that has brought her so much love. He bows his head to kiss her deeply, tilting her head to swipe his tongue over hers before pulling back and meeting her gaze. “Tonight, you’re still just mine.”
“Yours,” she confirms, pulling him on top of her, hands already pulling at the clothes that are in the way of her goal.
Tomorrow she will be his fiancée.
Tonight, she is more than happy to just be called his a while longer.
-fin-