Tony walked into the house after a long day at work, sighed deeply, and dropped his backpack beside the door. He was about to call out that he was home, but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of Train- which, when put under pressure, he would admit that he enjoyed listening to- coming from the living room. As if the music had a gravitational pull, he started toward it.
The song was coming from the radio on top of the entertainment center, and Ziva was already there, back to him as she moved from side to side with Azalea in her arms. Their two year old was watching her mother with wide, dark eyes, completely focused on the gentle words she was singing.
Can you imagine no love, pride, deep fried chicken?
Your best friend always sticking up for you
Even when I know you're wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance?
Five hour phone conversations
The best soy latte that you ever had
And me
She moved into the chorus, never breaking eye contact with her daughter, and Tony just leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a smile, all his stress evaporating. There was nothing better, he thought, than coming home to this. To them.
The song drew to a close, and Ziva sang the very last word to Azalea, her voice fading out with the radio. When she fell silent, she turned around, and Tony realized that the sneaky little ninja had somehow been aware of his presence the entire time. She smiled innocently, pressing her cheek to Azalea's, and he couldn't help walking over to hug them both.