A/N: So…I was sitting here rereading Israeli Wine and Pearls, and I remembered that I owed you a somewhat sequel. Well, here it is. Kind of. It references IWaP, but it's not a complete sequel. For those of you who have read The Time, think of this as a semi-reward! For those of you who are strict Tiva fans, enjoy it. I know I am.
Disclaimer: I do not own the following: Hotel Jerome, Alfred Angelo, the Westend Bistro, the 1840s Ballroom, Father of the Bride, or Mossad. I only take credit where it is due: Divinity, the plot, and any characters that do not belong to CBS. No copyright infringement is intended; only much fun and happiness as time goes on and the producers still refuse to relent to the Tiva Tension we know and love.
Summary: Gibbs assigns another undercover assignment to his agents. How will they fare?
Case File: In Israeli Wine and Pearls, Tony was told that there was a crooked preacher (Steven Kessler) in D.C. who would heavily involve himself in the marriage of his clients. Prenuptial counseling, wedding planning, and even a cameo appearance at the reception kept him well known as a kind and caring preacher in the community. He would even give the couple a suggestion as to where to honeymoon: "Stay at Hotel Jerome—gorgeous views of Aspen Mountain!" Often times, the couples would do just that. He didn't have an exclusive clientele, but took after each of his couples equally—especially, it seemed, when the military was involved. Coincidentally, two Marines and one Naval officer took their honeymoons at Hotel Jerome, and only one person out those six survived. It was Tony and Ziva's job to track down the killer. With their affiliation with the Navy through NCIS, Gibbs and Director Vance thought that they could be a lure. And, knowing Agents Davíd and DiNozzo, whoever the killer was would most likely not be able to attack again after dealing with them.
No. It simply could not be. Had he figured it out? Were they made? Were they being mocked? Tested? What was going on? Each of the three looked between themselves in moderately-hidden fear, silent.
"Sorry, Boss," Tony finally said, "could you—ahem—repeat that? Because I'm not sure I caught it." A deep flush rose in his neck and cheeks as a light sheen of perspiration formed on his forehead. Coughing nervously, he adjusted his tie and tried to smile, landing himself a giant smirk.
"You're going undercover again, Duh-Nozzo." Gibbs watched him with silvery blue eyes. He seemed to be enjoying this far too much for his own good. "What is there to not understand? Too much time in the sun for you?" He was obviously referring to the Israel excursion.
The team glanced between themselves. "Gibbs," Ziva spoke up, "You said there was going to be … a wedding?" The Silver Fox nodded, but looked around—a silent order to keep the situation shrouded by truth. "But, between who?" she asked softly, casting a half-smile upon Tony. Gibbs mouthed 'Conference Room' and sprinted up the stairs, coffee firmly in hand. His team followed closely behind him.
Once safely inside the room's closed door, he spoke freely. "The only two people on the team who can get married, Dah-veed," he said, shoving his glasses down his nose to look at her over the rims. "Now, who do ya think?"
"There are three different—"
McGee chimed in, "It wouldn't be me, because I'm stuck here running intel and hacking." He sounded so confident when he said it that Tony had to let out a holler of laughter. "And you run the assignments, Gibbs, so they'd probably need you in MTAC…" The computer nerd's eyes widened considerably. "That leaves…"
"Davíd and DiNozzo," Gibbs agreed, eyes twinkling. "All decisions are up to you," he said. "Last time I gave my opinion on wedding plans, I got a divorce instead." The team leader stood and swept out, stowing his glasses in his jacket pocket.
Tim grinned at his teammates as the other two stared at each other in mock horror. "Aw, look at the two wintertime lovebirds," he joked. "Well, Ziva, I guess it's finally time to take Abby dress shopping!" Ziva never stopped looking at Tony, nor did he ever stop looking at her. "And I … I suppose it's time to go … um … look for tuxes—am I intruding on something?"
"Only wedding plans, McBest-Man," Tony snapped, waving him away. The MIT graduate stood and walked out, letting out a sigh. The nicknames were growing tiresome, albeit perpetually original. He decided to go share the 'good news' with Abby, who would no doubt squeal like a little schoolgirl.
On McGee's departure, Tony stood and walked over to his 'fiancé'. "Well, Mrs. DiNozzo…" He watched her every move. "Have an idea of what dress you're going to get? We've got four weeks to plan."
Ziva nodded. "That just means I might have to buy off the rack, but I have no problem with that." She made a mental note to change her computer password so that he wouldn't be able to hack in and see what internet tabs she had open on the screen. An Alfred Angelo vendor was her destination after work. "I was thinking that for colors, we could—"
"You're doing wedding plans already?" Ziva nodded. "Jeez. Give it a break!"
"Why?" The former-Mossad agent frowned. Tony led her from the room and down the stairs to their desks.
Standing before Ziva's station, he shifted weight between his feet, expelling a hard breath from his lungs. "Well, Zeev, I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight and we could figure it out then…"
"I need to have material to work with, Tony," she insisted. "But I will be over at your house at six."
"Hell, Davíd," Gibbs said, squeezing between Tony and her desk on his way back to his own, "just take the rest of the day off." He smirked at them and when they didn't move, he shooed them with just a look.
Sitting in the Westend Bistro, on 22nd Street, Tony and Ziva made great strides in planning out the wedding, right down to the tuxedoes (sans the dresses, of course). It was decided (but not proclaimed) that Gibbs would walk Ziva down the aisle, Ducky would be one of the attendants, and Abby would be the Maid of Honor. Palmer would play piano, and Marjorie (from Accounting) would accompany him with the harp. Everything seemed to cooperate as far as the ceremony itself.
That night, when Tony opened his door, Ziva felt like things were actually going to be perfect. She thought maybe she could get used to this, even after the undercover assignment was completed. "Tony? What is all this?" she asked, following him into his apartment. The lights were lower than usual, and there were two candles lit on his small kitchen table. "I just came over to talk about the…plans…"
"Right, but I thought we agreed that you'd come over for dinner?" Tony smiled and led her to the table, taking her jacket and hanging it up in his coat closet. He pulled out her chair for her (as any gentleman would) and helped her pull it in closer to the table before sitting down himself. "So, we have a few things checked off, right?"
"Well, yes and no," she answered, sipping on the red wine he had poured for her. "We still haven't picked an actual date for the ceremony, and we still need a location for both that and the reception."
Tony held up a finger and crossed the room to a small table in the corner. From the drawer he pulled a pile of papers and brochures. "I went to the chamber of commerce today after work. They gave these to me." He handed them to her and explained, "I thought you might like 1840s Ballroom in Baltimore. Take a look at the pictures."
"It is…" Ziva was at a loss for words. 'Gorgeous' didn't at all seem close. "It is beautiful," she said simply, flipping through the pictures. "We could have the ceremony inside, and then go outside for pictures or something, or go off into a different part of the mansion, while the tables were set up for the reception."
"Don't you want a bit of Jewish tradition in there somewhere?" he asked, taking the pictures back from her to look at. His hand grazed hers. "I'm more than willing to wear a yarmulke." While it was a joke, Ziva was touched.
Nonetheless, she shook her head. "No, I do not expect you to, Tony," she murmured. "Gibbs said that this was to be an undercover assignment, and since, when I actually get married, I will most likely be expected to uphold the Jewish traditions, I want to experience those of Christianity, for once."
Tony relented, but did speak up about the guests and wedding party. "Who're you inviting?"
"Well, my idea of a wedding party would be, naturally, Abby as Maid of Honor, Nina as a bridesmaid, and Eliana as flower girl, but the last two are still in Israel, so that is impossible." Ziva sighed. "I would not want to have them come here, for a fake wedding…" Besides, what would Aunt Lucy think?
He nodded, and Ziva thought perhaps he had an agenda of his own that he was refusing to reveal to her. "McGee's my Best Man, and my groomsmen are Ducky and a friend from college." Then, he was silent, thinking. After a while, he said, "I think the chicken's done."
As they ate, they discussed wedding colors. He told Ziva that he had actually thought about his future wedding before in the past, and he'd always seen the colors including deep blue. Ziva didn't want to admit it, but she agreed; deep blue—not yet navy, but not indigo, either—would make his eyes look stunning. And, she had always looked good against blue. They decided together that the colors would be dark blue and silver, and Ziva already had the perfect dresses in mind.
"I'll be right back," Tony murmured, standing and disappearing into his bedroom. He returned with a small velvet box, similar to the one the Star of David had come in. Before Ziva realized what he was doing, she was taken by the hand and Tony was kneeling on the floor beside her, the velvet box open and in his palm. Inside was a stunning, gold band with a solitaire diamond. The top of the band was embossed with a delicate, floral design with a princess-cut stone. It took all of her will to not gasp, but she sensed she had failed when her partner let out a soft chuckle.
She managed to utter a broken "It's beautiful" before he squeezed her hand.
"This is my grandmother's engagement ring from the Forties; she left it to my mom, who left it to me. I only just got it, because my dad had it in his safety deposit box for when I 'needed' it," Tony explained in one breath. "And I want you to have it, and I want you to say you'll marry me."
Ziva smirked. "Tony, you realize that I have to 'marry' you, regardless of whether I accept your proposal or not, right?"
"Not so, Miss-Davíd-Soon-To-Be-Mrs.-DiNozzo," Tony slowly replied, a testing grin forming on his face, "Gibbs said that if you and I weren't compatible, he'd pair you with Stevens."
Ziva shuddered from the image; Agent Stevens was short and portly, with boils along his chin and a balding spot on the back of his head that, for some strange reason, always had a purplish bulge below it. Gibbs' team sometimes speculated, when their fearless leader wasn't around, if the freaky, bruised mass was the result of copious head-slaps, but often came to the conclusion that the two were not correlated, as Stevens had never worked under Gibbs and he held the honor of a head-slap for his agents only.
"So," the Senior Field Agent started again, his voice huskier than before, "Ziva Davíd, will you marry me?" Ziva thought she could hear a hint of desperation under the strength in his voice, but she could have just been grasping at strings.
Especially since she was close to tears as she nodded 'yes'.
Over the next week, everything seemed to fall together. When it came to the menu, however, they could not come to agreeable terms. "No!" Ziva argued. "We are not having pastrami crostini on the hors d'oeuvre table!" They finally compromised on the caterer, Divinity.
After meeting with the catering company, the partners were confident that they would have a sophisticated spread, complete with four courses, even on such short notice. Hors d'oeuvres, four served courses, dessert (not including the cake), and an open bar would be included at only around a hundred dollars per person. Since it would be a small wedding, there would be no worrying about the cost. Besides, Ziva decided to chip in and help with the payments, seeing as it kind of was a wedding she would be involved with. And, the tasting was a lot of fun. It was all part of the undercover work, Tony and Ziva told each other.
"So, let's see," Tony said after the tasting, scratching the side of his nose and reading the paper in front of him. "We've got tenderloin crostini, duck Reuben crisp, Cobb salad tart, and crab cakes as hors d'oeuvres—" He dramatically emphasized each syllable of the world and his partner giggled at him as he continued this pattern with each following culinary word. "—and the served appetizer is a goat cheese soufflé with fennel-apple salad—that was pretty good, huh?" Ziva nodded and he continued, "—A choice of beef bourguignon with garlic smashed potatoes and broccoli, Moroccan chicken roulade with hummus-stuffed cherry tomatoes and smashed potatoes, and penne pasta with sundried tomatoes and pesto for choices on the main entrée…" Groaning, he dropped his head to his arm. "I sound so … feminine. I sound like McGee!"
Ziva just patted his arm and murmured, "No, you don't. You sound like a man who is getting married."
"Alright. Well, then we have dessert…" The Senior Field Agent asked, "We're getting a cake, yeah? And then on top of that we've got little odds and ends like ice cream, cookies, and cocktails…"
"Exactly."
"Is this what planning a wedding is like?" he wailed. Ziva thought he sounded so pathetic, but in a cute way. Ziva stood, walked around his chair and massaged his shoulders. He visibly relaxed. "We have three weeks. That's twenty-one days."
She nodded and returned to her seat, checking her list while trying to appear as though she was working. "I have my dress; how are the tuxes?"
"We're getting ascots, right?" Tony asked absentmindedly, not looking at her but flipping through paperwork on his desk. When Ziva didn't answer, but instead just stared at him in disgusted incredulity, he glanced up at her, pursing his lips. It could have been from an attempt at not smiling. "I'm kidding. Blue vests, blue ties, 'subtle' silver pinstripe on the suit. I remember." He stared at her, trying to reassure her, but she was still unconvinced. "Zeev, chill. It's just a joke…"
"I had a bad experience with ascots." Tony shot her a quizzical look before getting up, crossing over to her, and perching on the edge of her desk so that she could tell him without the entire office knowing her story. "I went to a wedding in Majdal Shams, and the wedding colors were lime green and orange." They both winced. "The ascots were green against orange vests, and the bridesmaids were in stripes of the colors. It was horrid."
Tony patted her head and said, "Ziva, we both have more class than that. Don't worry." Your day will be perfect.
"My final fitting is today," Ziva told Abby a week later with a small amount of fear in her eyes. "Are you coming with me to pick up the dresses?" The Goth girl smiled, obviously ecstatic, and nodded. "Do you like your dress?"
Abby's eyes bugged out of her head. "Do I like it?" she blurted. "I love it! It's so classy and gorgeous and beautiful, with a little bit of sex appeal. I love it. All of it." She and Ziva had long since come to the joint decision of having a different dress for the maid of honor, to make her stand out, and had therefore (after finding the bridesmaid dresses, of course) spent most of the rest of that day picking out what Abby was going to wear. They ended up purchasing a beautiful, floor-length dress; it hinted at mermaid-style and had a scalloped neckline, strapless of course. It came in a stunning sapphire color that was exactly what Ziva and Tony had wanted to begin with. Dressy for Abby, she still fell in love with the satin as much as Ziva had—and about twice as quickly.
For the rest of the bridesmaids, Ziva had found dresses in the same color as Abby's, but in a different style. They were strapless and fell a few inches below the knee, with a silver ribbon right below the bust. Tony had suggested she get one or two, just to be safe. For whatever reason, she hadn't known, but had done so anyway with the measurements she had given him.
On the way to the dress shop, Ziva turned to Abby and whispered, "I am realizing how close the wedding is."
The forensic scientist rolled her eyes. "Oh, give it up, Ziva! This is going to be so much fun. And then you get to nab this guy who gets off killing people on their wedding nights," she reassured. "Besides, it's you and Tony. You make a great couple." Ziva nodded subconsciously and continued driving. When they arrived, Abby hopped out of the car and waited for her friend, who led her inside for everyone's final sitting.
Neither of them had been expecting the Middle Eastern woman who was sitting in the corner with a little girl on her lap, nor had they foreseen the little girl running up to Ziva squealing, "Zivaaaa!"
"Nina? What are you…?" Ziva began to ask, and then gave the answer to herself. "Tony invited you, didn't he?" Nina smiled warmly and rose to hug her cousin.
"It has been too long, Ziva, and with this being your special day—and since I have never been in the United States—I thought it was the perfect time to come for a visit." She draped her long, brown hair over one shoulder. "Eliana does not know why we are here."
Ziva looked down at the girl and then stooped down to her level, her brown eyes glittering. "Eliana, I have very good news for you."
"What?" Eliana said it in a goofy sort of disbelief.
"Remember how you married Tony and me on the last night of Chanukah?" The little girl nodded. "In about a week, he and I are getting married for real." Wide hazel eyes met chocolate. "Would you like to be my flower girl?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Eliana cheered, hugging Ziva tightly. "Ziva is going to be Tony's life…Again!"
Neither Nina nor Ziva bothered correcting her, but instead led her over to a wall of flower girl dresses to try on. After about fifteen minutes of perusing, Ziva chose a silver, ankle-length dress with a sapphire colored sash around the waist. On the bodice were dark blue rhinestones. Eliana completely adored it, and Ziva thought it represented the wedding colors quite nicely.
Eventually, Nina took Ziva aside, letting Abby coddle Eliana for a while by herself. "Ziva, your father is coming for the wedding." She said it all in one breath; a Band-Aid hurts less when ripped off in one swift pull, after all. Ziva sucked in a breath and then nodded. "You expected this?"
"He would want to come see his daughter get married," Ziva thought aloud. "I cannot demand that he does not come. What about your mother?" Nina stared at her. "I take it you could not get her on a plane?"
"Not in a million years, Cousin," the other woman joked. "I just thought I should tell you. Malachi is playing Director of Mossad right now, until your father's return to Israel."
The only problem is that this is all a ruse.
The caterer had been paid, the venue rented, and the DJ selected.
Ziva had made all of the appointments she would need—waxing, makeup, hair, manicure, and pedicure—and was overjoyed when she learned they would be coming to her apartment. She had gone to pick up her 'fiancé's' wedding band the previous day, along with the bridesmaids' dyed shoes and her ivory, satin shoes. Her dress was hanging in the darkest part of her closet. Everything was coming together.
Tony, too, had a good feeling; the wedding band he'd had engraved for Ziva had come into the store, and he had finalized his vows. He thought it was a bit like Father of the Bride, but decided not to say anything. His wedding day would be one of the few moments in his life where he didn't want to spew mindless movie quotes. He just wanted to think about how stunning his partner looked, and how jealous he would be someday if she didn't marry him, but someone else.
There were four days left before they'd be walking down the aisle. And both were a little spooked. At work, they would just smile, Ziva always blushing and Tony usually not far from it, and both McGee and Gibbs watched them in a mixture of curiosity and disgust.
Gibbs had started to second-guess his trust in Rule Number Twelve. Obviously, his agents wouldn't still be working as well as they did if the Rule hadn't pushed them together in the first place, but that wasn't to say that the Rule was always right. Tony and Ziva were getting married. As he walked by Ziva's desk, he handed them a folder. Inside was their marriage license.
"Gibbs?" Ziva murmured, rolling her chair over to his desk so that they could talk quietly. "I was wondering if…you would like to walk me down the aisle?"
For a moment, the team leader looked confused, and that quickly was replaced by compassion. "Davíd, isn't Eli coming?" he joked.
"He is, but I only just found out, and I have been planning on asking you for four weeks." She took his hand. "Gibbs, I need you."
He swallowed hard and blinked a few times before breaking into a wide grin. "It would be an honor, Ziva." She squeezed his hand and then rolled back to her desk.
Tony had watched this all with a keen eye, realizing how important Ziva really was to their boss.
A/N: Keep your eyes peeled for Chapter Two! (And, if anyone wants solid pictures of what everything looks like, feel free to send me a personal message or e-mail!)