Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Thanks to skyjadeprincess for reviewing 13; and Reader for reviewing 12 and 13.
"Why did Asher get to go and not me?"
"Because I am older and I asked Abba if I could go!"
"I asked too!"
"But you are too young! You would just get in trouble!"
"So would you!"
"Boys, that is enough!" Ziva watched as her sons quickly quieted; neither she nor Tim tolerated temper tantrums, and she had been quick to scold them out of Asher early on; and Liron, had learned from example. "Abba will show us his new tattoo when he is ready to and not before. Okay?"
"Yes, Ima." They whispered in unison, as Ziva turned her attention to once again to Zipporah. Gently, she guided her daughter's mouth to her breast, tenderly brushing her finger against her daughter's cheek as the baby began to nurse. Asher dropped onto the sofa next to her, curling into her other side. He watched his sister for several minutes, before,
"Did I do that too?" His mother nodded, meeting her son's gaze briefly.
"Ken, you did. And so did your brother."
"Why?" Ziva's dark gaze snapped up to meet her husband's; Tim gently set the mug on the table in front of his wife before heading to the desk and pulling up the latest manuscript of his novel. She bit her lip, never taking her eyes off her husband's back.
"He's going to learn about it sooner or later, Zi; we might as well tell him now." Tim muttered, reading through his manuscript before shutting his laptop off and pulling out his typewriter. As the familiar, calming clack of the keys began, Ziva turned back to her son, but not before glaring daggers at her husband's back. After a moment, she opened her mouth, but Tim beat her to it. "It's a way for the baby to get nutrients, by nursing. Ima did it with both of you when you were babies. It's a natural process, and it's part of motherhood." Ziva looked up, meeting her husband's soft gaze. Asher nodded, before getting up and going into the kitchen. He rummaged around for a moment, before coming back with something.
"What are you doing, my angel?" Ziva asked softly, watching her oldest son. The little boy looked up; it was then that she saw the Nutter Butters Asher held tight in his hand.
"Liron does not like Nutter Butters. He likes Oreos." The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Yuck!" Ziva chuckled, as her son returned to the sofa.
"I have always liked Oreos." She replied, glancing at her son. Asher gave her a disgusted look, glancing at Tim.
"Abba, did you know Ima likes Oreos?" Tim chuckled, hearing the distress in his son's voice. He turned from his manuscript, seeing the disgust in Asher's eyes as he stood and went into the kitchen.
"Yes, sweetheart, I know all about Ima's horrible taste in cookies." He ducked, hearing the whoosh as a pen went flying past his head to embed itself in the wall. Straightening, he turned, glaring at his wife. Ziva raised an eyebrow and gently removed Zipporah from her breast, patting the baby's back before getting up and laying the six-month-old on the blanket spread out on the living room floor. The pen that flew back at her was caught mid-air as she stood, turning her dark eyes to her husband with a small smile. Asher's eyes widened in shock as he looked between his parents. Tim rolled his eyes as he returned to the living room, taking the now-stilled pen she held out.
"You know better than to try that with me, Timothy." She whispered as she passed, slipping down the hall to the master bedroom. Tim watched her go, muttering with a shake of his head,
"Yeah, I know. I know I married a ninja." As soon as he had returned to his typewriter, Liron climbed onto his lap, watching as his father's fingers flew over the keys.
He carefully removed the gauze, hissing softly as the cool air hit the new tattoo. Biting his lip, he studied the artwork. It looked exactly like Asher's and Liron's except the colors, names, dates and meanings were different. And instead of it being on the inside of his wrist, it was on the outside, on his left wrist. The beautiful dark blue that curved into the knot and spelled out her name, dates and the meaning of her name shone in the light, with the white cross on his wrist, making it a beautiful addition to the knots for his boys. After a moment, he removed the gauze on his other wrist, revealing the writing on the outside of his right wrist.
Taking a deep breath, he slipped out of the bathroom and joined Ziva in bed, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She shifted, turning to face him, in time to catch sight of the tattoos on the outside of his wrists. "Timothy... what did you do?" He showed her the one for Zipporah, and she gently traced the intricate knot for their daughter. Her gaze turned to his right wrist. "What is this?" She studied the words silently, reading the beautiful script they were written in.
"'We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible.' Oscar Wilde; he's an Irish novelist and playwright, Zi." She nodded.
"Do you really feel that way?" He grinned.
"How could I not?" Silent, Ziva curled into his arms, laying her head on his chest. "Life is just one, great endless experience, Zi. It's up to us to experience it as much as we possibly can." She curled closer, lacing their fingers before pressing a kiss to his wedding ring.