Ziva David had learned many things in her last few years in the United States. She had seen dozens of movies, learned to interrogate suspects without causing bodily harm, tried to master countless bizarre colloquialisms (on what planet does lining ones ducks in a row have anything to do with preparation and not animal husbandry?) and even how to use her skills to save lives instead of end them.
What she had not expected was to fall in love. She had learned that there were many different kinds of love too, in this strange melting pot of a country. Gibbs had shown her the love of a father-figure to the flock of daughters he chose. McGee and Abby taught her about love between friends who blaze trails through hell and back for each other. And, most unexpectedly, Ziva had gained an expansive education in the kind of love spelled with a capital L: Love.
Ziva wasn't quite sure where things had shifted in the course of their time together. Somehow through the years he had gone from annoyance, to friend, to partner, and then the most terrifying transition of all; to lover. There had been no one more afraid of real emotionally commitment than she, and with due cause. Ziva had lost nearly everyone from her life in Israel and knew all too well what it meant to watch those she cared for die. For many years she had abided by a simple code – if you let no one in to know your truest self, you cannot open yourself to hurt. That was a lonely way to live, well, if you wanted to call existing as a shadow among men living. But somehow he had taken down the stone walls that she had assembled with a mortar of blood and tears around her heart. He had spared her a demolition, and instead had set to chipping away the barrier stone by stone.
The object of her affection was, on the surface, an exceedingly unlikely choice for a woman like her. Anyone who spoke with Anthony DiNozzo Jr. for a matter of minutes could be tricked into thinking that they knew him. And she knew exactly what they saw; a Fed who was an adolescent trapped in an adult body who spent way too much time watching movies from before he was born. He was frequently late and was always the member of Team Gibbs left scrambling to finish up case reports at the last minute. Not to mention the fact that he had long-standing issues with his father that rivaled her own.
It was easy to forget how often Tony would put himself in the line of fire to protect others and how he viewed their job as a way to make good. He had had his mettle tested as a team leader but could play a supporting role without fail. His wisecracks, as absurd as they were, significantly relieved the morbid spirit and unspoken tension that so often pervaded crime scenes. She had learned quite early that you can't work hand in hand with death for years without clinging to some way to cope. Tony was the team's way to cope. And when it came down to it, there was no one else she wanted watching her back when things, as they so often did, dissolve into madness. They had saved each others' lives on more than one occasion, and she knew without fail that neither would hesitate to do so in the future.
But as wonderful as all of these qualities were, those weren't the things that made her fall in love with Tony. It was all of the little things, the things that she and only she could know. As his lover, she had been granted rare access into a Tony that only existed within the walls of home that the world at large had never laid eyes on. And this was the Tony who she had given herself to, body and soul.
She knew that he took his coffee with two sugars and no cream. He always smelled of Old Spice and a hint of cotton when she would kiss his neck. He preferred to sleep with one arm curled protectively around the pillow, and this made his hair stick up on one side when it came time for the alarm to start its daily chirp. His extensive movie collection took up an entire set of shelves, and he constantly would re-sort them by genre, title or director. She knew that he folded everything from his Ohio State sweatpants to his underwear. He would run his thumb over the back of her hand when he thought she wasn't paying attention. He was slightly obsessive about how the bed should be made (covers under the pillows, not over). He loved when she ran her fingers through his crop of chestnut hair but he was very ticklish around his ribs. She knew that he would do anything to protect her, even from herself. He hated olives and could whip up some sinfully good macaroni and cheese. He made her heart skip a beat when he flashed her a grin. The corners of his bright blue eyes would only crinkle when he really thought something was funny. He knew exactly how and where to touch her to drive her to the brink before fulfilling both of their wants and needs. She knew he made her a better person when they were together.
These were the things that made her smile when she said his name and had her knees turn to water at his kiss.
These were the important things.
These were the things that had made Ziva David say, "Yes."