A/N: I'm still recovering from writing the extremely depressing final chapter of another story, so I thought I would do something short, light and a little happier in order to both amuse myself and entertain you. (It also helps that I have a lot of homework to do and absolutely no desire to do it.) This is definitely fluffier than I'm used to writing Tony and Ziva, but I have generally observed that the fandom is never opposed to fluffiness, even if I am. So I suppose I don't feel too bad about going there this time.
These are five little drabbles, then, centered around the theme of "golden." Loosely connected. Hope you guys like them.
Golden
By: Zayz
I.
The op tonight requires surveillance at a swanky party, and Gibbs immediately points at Ziva, tells her to pick out something fancy and be ready by eight o'clock sharp. Ziva's eyes sparkle with mischief as she asks if she needs a date. Gibbs rolls his eyes and storms out to Abby's lab, leaving Ziva, McGee and Tony exchanging amused glances.
Ziva leaves the office around five to get ready and arrives two hours later, all dolled up, as ordered. Her dress is a lovely airy thing, royal blue and fit for a Grecian goddess. Her hair is twisted into an elegant knot on the back of her head, and golden bangles jingle merrily on her wrist.
"You look nice, Ziva," says McGee appreciatively, his smile sweet and genuine and utterly platonic.
Ziva's eyes go straight to Tony, obviously waiting for his reaction. He arranges his features into a passably nonchalant grin, and blurts out, "Are you going to gather surveillance intel yourself or seduce someone for it?"
It is a silly, careless thing to say, but she seems strangely flattered. She throws her head back laughing and says, "You are a pig, Tony."
Gibbs walks in just then, looks Ziva up and down, and tells her, "Good. All of you, get to the van. McGee, do you have the brooch?"
McGee scrambles to grab the brooch with the camera in it, and Tony and Ziva follow Gibbs to the elevator. Ziva tries to catch Tony's eye, but he purposefully refuses to meet her gaze.
The elevator opens and she walks out in front of him, giving him a whiff of the perfume she's wearing. Chanel No. 5. Her bangles keep jingling like little bells as they make their way towards the van.
II.
The stake-out is taking longer than expected. It is the only lead they have on this case, so Gibbs asks Tony and Ziva to watch the suspect's house a little while longer, in case he leaves and unwittingly leads them to possible accomplices.
The afternoon is getting cooler, the sun sinking in the sky, casting an intense gold-orange glow over the world. The light catches Ziva's features at just the right angle, illuminating her cheekbones, the subtle copper tones in her brown hair. She yawns into the crook of her elbow, and says, "I need this to be over, Tony."
"I know," he says. "It's been hours. The dude is obviously not going anywhere. But hey, at least this means we get to share this beautiful sunset together."
She snorts. "Yes. What a treat."
"You know, some women would find this very romantic."
"I am sure they would, Tony," says Ziva with a smirk, picking up the binoculars and examining the suspect's window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
"You have no romanticism in you," Tony complains.
"Sunsets are not romantic," she says. "I prefer the sunrise. I would rather watch the day begin than end."
"Fair enough." He squints at the door too. "We might get to share one of those, too, with the rate this is going."
"Wait, I think I see him getting out of his living room!" says Ziva.
"He's coming out the door. Okay. Gibbs was right – again. Let's go." Tony puts the car into gear and Ziva takes photographs, preparing for the surprise pursuit.
III.
Ziva is wearing a shirt the color of sunflowers, the night Tony turns up at her apartment at two in the morning and finally tells her that he loves her.
She was supposed to be on an interview in Norfolk, but the location was blown up by the murderer attempting to hide evidence, and for a few horrible minutes, he thought he had lost her again. This time, for good. He almost lost it, until she came back to the office, shaken but unhurt, saying she had been caught in traffic and was looking for a parking spot when the place went up in flames.
This is the night he can't take it anymore, and decides to tell her that he's learned his lesson. After watching her escape death's waiting arms twice in the past five years, he needs her to know that what he feels for her is not just partner-to-partner protectiveness. He loves her. He's loved her for ages. And he doesn't expect anything from her, but he wants her to know this because he's tired of pretending.
At first, she doesn't say anything. She is just stunned, staring at him with her eyes raw and overflowing and confused, shiny in the limited light of her dark apartment. She is wearing her yellow shirt and gray shorts – sleeping clothes – and her feet are bare against the cool wood floor, and her mouth is hanging slightly open, lost for words.
But then she leans forward, and for one wild moment he thinks she's going to kiss him – but instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tight. Somehow, holding her this close, this fiercely, feeling her warmth through both their thin shirts, is even more intimate than a kiss would have been.
So he surrenders, buries his face in her shoulder, in her sunflower-colored shirt, and just breathes her in. All of her, all of this, their years of history closing in around them. Everything.
IV.
When Tony and Ziva move into their new apartment, Tony insists they spend their first night watching The Shining on the state-of-the-art television he had the moving men install before they did anything else. He takes it as a personal affront that Ziva has known Tony for this long and has not yet seen The Shining, his all-time favorite horror movie. They order a pizza and Ziva surprises him with some champagne, golden and cold and bubbly. They pour each other a glass and toast to their new apartment, this next phase of their relationship.
The pizza comes and Tony starts the movie, almost making Ziva miss the introduction with all of his excited commentary on the background of the film. When it begins in earnest, and Ziva gives him a sharp poke on his side to shut him up, he leans back against the couch – the new olive-green one that he thought looked pukey and she insisted was lovely – and she cuddles up against him, her weight warm and comforting beside him, sipping her drink and diligently watching the movie.
He has never really gotten used to this, even now – the easy way with which she is intimate with him. She rests her head on his shoulder, she sometimes lets him hold her hand in public, she spontaneously kisses him when the mood strikes her – and it's all so different from the way they used to be, yet so unbelievably wonderful, that he just can't explain it.
She blows his mind every minute he is with her. He puts his arm around her shoulder and holds her close – and when the first scare lights up the screen, it actually gets her, and she jumps, spilling her entire glass of champagne on his shirt.
V.
It takes so many years for him to convince her to marry him. She is wary – of course she is wary – and she resists the ultimate commitment, afraid that the institution will ruin them the way it has ruined every other married couple she has ever known. Besides, she had a harder time than he did letting go of Rule Twelve, even after Gibbs passed on a couple of years ago.
But he so wants to, and his genuine desire wears her down until she finds that place in herself that secretly does want to make this official the way she never thought she would be able to. So when he senses that she's ready, he takes her on a midnight picnic at the beach, and as they lay back on the cool sand, watching the sunrise, he asks her the question and she says yes.
Ziva's only stipulation is that she doesn't want a large, fancy ceremony. Instead, they sign a ketubah in their living room with only McGee and Abby as their witnesses. Tony wears his tux; Ziva wears a white, delicately-embroidered sun-dress. Abby is their over-enthusiastic photographer as they exchange their golden wedding bands and kiss as husband and wife. They register their marriage with the state, and go out to dinner with McGee and Abby, toast the occasion with good wine and spend the rest of the night eating, laughing, getting tipsy.
That night, the only things they wear are those golden rings, glinting bright in the dark, as they make love and inaugurate the beginning of the rest of their lives.