This is where the fun starts! Tony and Ziva stuck in the apartment for a few days. I might throw some angst in there. Because I am evil. MHUHAH HAHAHA! *chokes*
Disclaimer: I was like: "I want to own NCIS." And life was like: "No."
When Tony woke up the next morning, Ziva was all but curled up into him with her head resting comfortably on his chest. Her hand was pressed over his heart, much like the first night they spent together and his arms were secured around her waist, moulding her body to his. He knew the thought was premature, but he couldn't wait for the time when he would have the privilege to wake up like that every day. Her weight against him felt so natural. As he listened to her breathing he contemplated the past few days again. He was astonished with how many times she had made him feel utterly happy. He hoped he had made her happy too.
He was so content with laying in bed that he was startled when she began moving in his arms. He wanted to feign sleep when he realised that she would be waking up to him holding her like a lover, but then he remembered the way she woke up on the couch the previous night. Then she was also being held by him and she didn't seem to mind. So he relaxed and waited for her to become fully cognisant.
Ziva's first thought upon waking was that she was very comfortable. And she also felt well rested. Opening her eyes, she took in her surroundings. She surmised that she was embracing Tony and being embraced by him in return. She felt she liked it. From listening to his breathing, she knew he was awake and he most certainly has to have noticed their positions. The fact that he had not moved away from her meant that he was enjoying it as well. Letting herself smile at this, she turned her head up, much like the previous night to look at his face.
"Boker tov, Tony," she greeted him sleepily.
"Good morning," he greeted in return. "Was that Hebrew again?"
"Yes, it means 'good morning'."
"So I assumed," he said, smiling down at her. "I'm guessing the storm hits today. What would you like to do, seeing as we will be stuck inside?"
"I would like to stay in bed for a little longer, if you do not mind." She felt herself blush a little at the innuendo he could derive from that, and hastened to explain herself. "It is just that in Mossad I do not have many chances to have a lie in and I would like to make use of this opportunity."
"Of course," he answered her.
They fell silent then and she turned her face back down again to lie more comfortably on his chest. His hand later started travelling slowly up her back and then down again, drawing lazy circles. Neither of them commented on it. Ziva felt herself smile at the tender gesture and Tony didn't realise he was even doing it until he had wrapped one of her curls around his finger and it had gotten stuck. He looked at his hand confusedly, not understanding how it ended up like that while Ziva only laughed at him and helped him untangle it.
"Sorry," he whispered to her when she had taken her place on top of him again.
"It is okay, Tony. I find it rather funny actually," she said with another laugh."I like people playing with my hair," she added, trying to get through to him that she did not mind.
"I like your hair."
"You said."
"I mean it. It's so thick. And curly. It's pretty."
"Well, you have my permission to play with it then anytime you like."
"Really?" he asked, sounding like a little boy on Christmas morning.
"Yes, really."
"Thank you."
A comfortable silence settled over them again as Tony continued to twirl curly brown locks around his fingers. The soft movements made Ziva almost fall asleep again, but she was woken from her dozing when he spoke up.
"When I was nine, my cousin Leah and I got chicken pox and we were quarantined together for a week. She had this beautiful head of long blond hair, inherited from her mother. She was older than me, being twelve at the time, and man were we bored that week!" He stopped to smile and take a breath. "It was in the middle of summer and we weren't allowed to go outside and play with our friends. Out of sheer frustration, she ended up teaching me to braid her hair."
For a few seconds there was silence, as Ziva didn't say anything because she expected him to continue talking. When he didn't, she answered him.
"I can only imagine a boy of that age wanting to play in the dirt but having to braid hair."
"Yeah, it must've looked pretty funny to our parents, but I actually enjoyed it." He was quiet again while deciding whether or not to ask the next question. "May I braid your hair for you? I'll understand if you don't want to, but I just thought - "
"Yes," she interrupted him, looking up into his face. "You may. I gave you permission, remember?"
"Right," he said a little sheepishly.
"I am going to have to brush it out again first, though. Because it must be very wild at the moment," she said as she reluctantly withdrew from his embrace and got out of bed to retrieve her brush from the dresser. As she sat back down and went to gather her hair, she was stopped by a strong hand covering hers.
"Let me," he said as he took the brush from her hand. She turned to look at him incredulously for a moment, but he only looked back, silently asking her to let him do this. She relented, amused. After smiling in victory, he settled in behind her and began dividing her curls into sections for easier untangling, just like his cousin had taught him all those years ago.