When she awakens the next morning, she is panicked. The reveille, however, does not come in the form of another nightmare; rather, it is the distinctive smell of something burning. The realization that she is not at home comes a few seconds later and brings with it a bit of relief. If there is danger, at least her sister and brother are not involved (as either the victims, perpetrators, or both).
Reasoning that she is probably not in any danger—Tony would have woken her if there was, wouldn't he?—Ziva quickly throws the covers off and slides out from his comfortable, albeit peculiarly small, bed. With a sense of urgency she walks towards the closed bedroom door, but catches a glimpse of herself in Tony's reflective closet doors—she is dressed in a large, white t-shirt and shorts. Hardly feeling comfortable facing him in such attire, she throws open the closet doors and hastily grabs a navy blue bathrobe before proceeding to the kitchen.
"I think I screwed up."
Ziva cannot stifle her laugh at the sight before her. It clearly is a miracle that there wasn't a fire. Tony's baking skills seem to leave much to be desired. He has flour all over the counters, floor and his sweatpants. There is a trail of batter from the red mixing bowl to the waffle iron, which is open and displaying the—burnt—fruits of its labor. The entire room is in a bit of a smoky haze.
"It appears so," Ziva replies, grinning madly. "You appear to have been taking notes from my brother."
"Ari bakes?"
"No. That is my point," she chuckles, leaning up against a clean portion of the countertop. "He tried to make me a birthday cake once. It looked a bit like this."
"Damn, I really thought I had it," Tony sighs, running a slightly floury hand through his hair.
"What happened?"
"Well first it was too thick, then it was too thin, so I added more flour and it looked pretty decent so I put the first batch in. But when I tried it it tasted terrible, so I tried again, only I burnt it," he explains, gesturing towards the train wreck before him.
"Have you done this before?" she inquires, walking over to stand next to him and closer inspect the iron.
"Nope."
"Sometimes the first batch comes out badly. What did it taste like?" she wonders, hoping to run a diagnostic. He reaches over to a plate and removes a nicely cooked waffle, handing it to her.
"Try for yourself."
She takes a bite and chews only a few times before scowling and gulping it down.
"You are right. You definitely screwed up," she teases, pushing gently past him to look at the ingredients still on the counter. Flour, milk, eggs, salt, baking soda— "Tony?"
"Yep?"
"Did you put baking soda in?"
"Yeah the recipe called for it, why?"
"I am fairly certain that the recipe called for baking powder." An amused smile spreads across her face.
Tony opens his mouth to protest, but his words don't quite make it into the air. He leans over to the island and studies the paper that must contain the recipe, and a frown settles on his face.
"Oh."
Ziva smirks.
He rolls his eyes. "So, cereal?"
"Sounds good to me. Would you like help cleaning up?" He could probably use it.
"Nah, I'll get it later," he replies, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a box of Cheerios. "Merry Christmas, by the way." Her face lights up.
"I forgot! Merry Christmas! What do you usually do?" she wonders. He sets the bowls down on the counter and goes to retrieve the milk while she goes to the other side of the island and sits on one of the stools.
"I don't know, it depends. Usually… nothing, really."
"Really? You do not celebrate… with your family? Or with your team?" She is slightly hesitant in asking, since he hardly ever talks about his family.
"Well, my coworkers all have families of their own, for the most part. But my family's not exactly the type. It's just me and my dad," he responds. She can see him attempting to conceal sadness, and it's suddenly all too familiar. She stops inquiring after that—if anyone understands not wanting to discuss fathers, it is her. She hardly has a right to press for information when she avoids all of his questions on the topic.
"This is a change," she observes as he slides her the bowl of cereal from across the counter.
"What is?"
"You waiting on me."
He chuckles. "How much are you gonna tip me?"
"Nice try."
"Oh, your brother called, by the way," he informs, walking around the island to pull up a seat next to her.
"What did he want?"
"To make sure I didn't murder you and dump your body in the Potomac."
"That sounds about right," Ziva replies. Actually, she is rather impressed that he managed to refrain from calling until now. He is improving in curtailing his overprotectiveness, she thinks as she takes a bite of Cheerios.
"You know, it's actually kind of nice when you think about it. I mean, he could just not care. He loves you," Tony points out.
"I know. Believe me, I know. He is… I am fortunate. I would much rather he called me every five minutes than did not care at all," she admits. Sometimes, when she was in Be'er Sheva, she would think about Ari and wonder. He had always loved his sisters, but she wondered how he might end up. She hated to think that Eli's flippancy regarding family members would rub off on him. Luckily, that was not the case, not at all.
"Hey, Tony?"
"Hmm?" he responds, his mouth full.
"I do not want you to be alone on Christmas. You are welcome to have dinner with us. If you want, I can make loukoumades," she proposes. A great part of her is saddened by the thought of him spending the holiday alone. It is unfair. He is a good man, and good men should not be lonely, and especially not during the holidays.
He turns to her, a great big smile on his face. "Those sugar-covered, deep-fried things?"
"Yes."
"Well, I can't say no to that," he answers. "Thank you."
She knows that he is not thanking her for doughnuts.
…
When they arrive at the David's apartment, it's nearly noon. Tali is, naturally, thrilled to see him. She gives him a great big hug which, to Ziva's relief, does not seem to phase Tony in the least. She attributes it to working so closely with Abby.
Ari looks happy to see her in one piece, although he gazes upon Tony with a bit of suspicion. To his credit, he does not look upset to hear that Tony will be hanging around for the remainder of the day. The promise of delicious dinner didn't hurt.
It snowed a lot overnight, and Tali is bouncing off the walls, words like snowman and snowball fight and snow malach tumbling out of her mouth. Ziva smiles at seeing her sister so excited; it's easy to share in her enthusiasm.
"Hey, I have an idea," Tony says, and Tali turns to him eagerly.
"Does it involve snow?"
He grins. "You bet it does."
…
They arrive at the sledding hill around two, having eaten lunch and stopped to purchase necessary equipment (sleds). To say Tali was ecstatic would be an understatement. Her excitement is more contagious than usual. Upon setting eyes on the steep slope, a wide grin spread across Ziva's face.
It looks fun—actual, honest, straight up fun, something which hasn't graced Ziva's life in quite a long while.
"DiNozzo, I gotta hand it to you. This was a good idea," Ari admits as he looks down the hill.
"Race you to the bottom?" Tony challenges, tossing the other the plastic sled to the man next to him.
"You are going down," Ari responds.
Tony then proceeds to count down from three, and then the two take off running. They sprint a couple of yards before diving onto their sleds, which in turn zip down the snowy slope at higher speeds than Ziva had been expecting. Eventually, they reach the bottom and slow to a stop. She can hear them arguing about who won even from the top of the hill.
"They better hurry back up here, because I want to try!" Tali exclaims, wide eyed.
"Race me?" Ziva proposes, grinning madly.
"I will win," Tali insists, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Do not bet on it."
When Ari and Tony return to the top of the hill, they are breathless and laughing and both shaking snow from their hair.
"Ladies second," Tony smirks, handing Ziva his sled.
It has been a while since she has experienced adrenaline, Ziva decides as she whips down the hill, the wind freezing in her face. She can hear Tali screaming with delight, and somewhere in her mind she registers the fact that she is doing the same. They reach the bottom far too soon, in her opinion.
So they go again, and again, and again. Getting high on the feelings of freedom and friendship, it's easy to pretend that they are carefree teenagers, not runaways aged far beyond their years.
Everything feels so blissfully simple.
…
They swing by the grocery store before returning to the apartment. Ziva needs ingredients for dinner—chicken parmesan and loukoumades for dessert. It's not exactly a traditional Christmas dinner, but Tony does not care. He never was really one for tradition.
They return to the apartment at five and take the bags of groceries up, but Ari and Tony do not stay long. To Ziva's confusion and annoyance—they refuse to tell her and Tali where or why they are going—they go back down to the parking lot. Tony slides into the passenger seat and Ari into the driver's.
They arrive at their destination not too long later, after a mildly awkward conversation that consisted mostly of small talk. Tony can tell something is on the other man's mind.
The shop, thankfully, is open on Christmas, most likely for last minute gift-buyers. They peruse the aisles for a few minutes, looking for exactly what they want.
"This is very… generous of you."
Tony shrugs nonchalantly. "I want her to be happy."
"She will not accept it if she thinks it charity," Ari reminds him.
"Then I'll just have to explain to her why it isn't," Tony replies. He sees the look cross Ari's face again—the one where he has something to say. "Something's on your mind." Ari crosses his arms across his chest.
"Did you sleep with Ziva last night?"
And there it is.
"No." Tony does not bother with anything more than that. Ari does not need, nor want, anything more than a straightforward answer. Something tells him that Ari did not truly think Tony and Ziva did anything to cross the proverbial line(more of a confidence in Ziva's actions than in Tony's), but there was always that little shred of lingering doubt.
"But you wanted to." Tony tries to resist rolling his eyes, and succeeds for the most part.
"That's irrelevant. Ziva is my friend. Like I said, I want her to be happy."
"I may be her brother, DiNozzo, but I am not blind. Ziva is a beautiful woman. Many men have vied for her affection before this. You do want something more with her, do you not?" Ari inquires. This is beginning to feel a bit like an interrogation.
"I'm taking this one step at a time. I don't really know what I want yet. Ziva doesn't know what she wants yet. But for the moment, I enjoy her company and she enjoys mine, and it's really that simple."
Ari seems satisfied with his answers, and when he gives a pensive nod there is a finality about it that Tony takes to mean end of discussion. Somehow, Tony feels a bit better knowing the air is cleared between them.
They find exactly what they are looking for a few minutes later. Tony reluctantly lets Ari pay for a portion, and they put in in the trunk of Tony's car before heading back to the apartment, which smells like Italy. Tony's mouth instantly waters.
"I should move in with you guys," Tony moans as he inhales deeply.
"Considering what I have learned about your skills in the kitchen, it is a wonder that you have survived this long. Let me guess: take out and pizza?" Ziva teases as he walks into the kitchen.
"Hey, I make a mean lasagna," Tony protests.
"Are you going to tell us where you went, or will we be forced to torture it out of you?" Ziva asks.
"Don't worry, you'll find out after dinner," he assures her. "How much longer?"
"An hour." Tony groans, and Tali laughs.
"You have to be patient!"
"I suck a patient."
"Fine, then go suck at it in another room. We have cooking to do," she replies, crossing her arms over her chest in a way so similar to Ziva's that it's uncanny.
Tony grumbles and turns on his heels, his stomach grumbling theatrically.
…
Dinner is gone, the dishes are done, and while the men are dying of over-eating, Ziva and Tali are dying of curiosity. Tony and Ari's mysterious, unexplained trip was eating away at them. Neither are entirely certain that Tony and Ari coalescing does not mean trouble.
When the two of them return, they carry with them a rather large box, wrapped up in paper with a bow on the top.
Ziva is not sure what she was expecting, but it sure was not a gift.
"Ooo, a present!" Tali exclaims. "Is it for me?"
"It's for both of you," Tony corrects.
The men set it down on the table, and Tali instantly starts tearing away at the paper. Ziva lets her, knowing how much she always loved tearing the wrapping paper off of her birthday presents.
When the wrapping paper is gone, Ziva can read the words on the box. She looks up at the two most important men in her life with shining eyes.
"I know it's not full size or anything, and it's electric so it sits on a stand and doesn't have pedals, and it's definitely no baby grand, but… I thought you should have one, if you love it so much."
Tony DiNozzo has bought her a piano.
A/N: Sorry about the absence of flashbacks. They're not over, far from it, but they will not be every chapter anymore. Some of you will not like that, a lot of you will:) I hope you liked this chapter. I'm sorry it took so long to post. Summer vacation is no friend of writers' block.
Thanks to much to JG, xSupernovax, Simsee, dvd123, Liraeyn, shortcake99, NCIS Ziva DiNozzo, bex19, NCIStiva3, kw, middawn, a guest reviewer, agentscully6, kate97, prince-bishop, andixoxox8, Tivafeels, and tivagirl for the wonderful support!