Starry-Eyed
By ChannelD
Written for the winner of an NFA Hangman competition
Rating: K+
Genre: Romance
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS. Sad, but true.
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Author's Note: I don't write much romance—if it comes out of the story, fine, but for me it's almost always a byproduct of a plot rather than something I set out to do. This is the first romantic piece I've done with Ziva with anyone since her turn with Prince Friedrich ("Freddy") in The Brave Young Prince, so I'm not sure how well this will come off. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained. And that's sometimes a motto of the starry-eyed lovers, too.
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I fondly remember the phrase I once heard him use: starry-eyed. I had to think about that one for several hours to figure out what it meant. It was no use asking around the workplace about it; people might laugh and ask why I wanted to know. Likewise, I did not want to look it up on the internet while at work; someone might sneak up on me and see me do it. So after he first said it to me, I repeated it to myself ten times until I could get to my desk and write it down on a small piece of paper. I could look it up at home.
He had not directed the phrase to me, however. It was someone else he was describing. But I could hope, I could dream, that one day he would say that he was the one with the stars in his eyes…when looking at, when thinking of me.
But I love everything about him, like a schoolgirl with a crush. Irrational, but true. I love the suits he wears: not really stylish, but a reflection of his sweet, innocent, no-sense-of-fashion that just comes naturally to some helpless, endearing men. I love his uncomplicated, direct friendliness. He is a man not looking to see what he could get out of other people. I think he must often look to see what he could do for others.
He is that nice. One does not expect to find nice in a special agent.
Oh, who would ever think that I would fall in love with a man best described as nice?
I love it when he speaks to me. I love seeing him come in here.
He is up in Madam Director's office right now, in a meeting with Gibbs and Tony. I do not mind that I was not invited; here now I am close enough to being alone that I can dream almost without being noticed. I can pull down fuzzy and sparkling letters from the internet and hide them in a folder with some boring title like November Dead-End Tips:
Z & T
I keep it short so I am less likely to be caught. The initials alone are fine. My heart does not need for me to spell them out.
Fuzzy, sparkling…that describes my mood. I do not mind in the least. I have decided that I like stars, and I do another quick web search for them as well.
Stars. I would like to see stars in his eyes; those lovely, lovely eyes. How romantic that would be, to bring the mighty suns of the skies down to earth to dwell inside oneself, to in turn beam out the lights of the galaxy as an expression of one's desire. And I want to be the object of that expression.
Oh, my; the meeting has broken up, and here they come now. I must not blush, or giggle, or smile too greatly. I want him to notice me but not as a woman in love. I would settle for being seen as a capable woman with a heart willing to love.
He is stopping to talk with Gibbs, but he is also looking my way. Oh, that smile. "Hello, Ziva," he says. "You look nice."
I cannot help the slight blush that comes to my cheeks. I keep my head down a little, for I feel my eyes have been replaced by buckets of stars. I force my voice to be steady as I say, "Thank you, Tobias."
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