Today's prompt: barbecue.

Gibbs invites the team over to celebrate the Fourth of July, the summer after Ziva became a US citizen.

Thank you all for reading and the continued support. I'll try to catch up on replies tomorrow.


The smell of grilled meat wafted in through the open kitchen door. He watched Abby and Ziva busy themselves, slicing and dicing vegetables that would go untouched by Gibbs, who had decided to invite them all for a Fourth of July barbecue.

Abby walked out carrying trays of food, babbling about who knows what, while Ziva tidied up the kitchen counter.

"Are you excited for the fireworks later?"

Ziva turned around, an amused smile on her lips. "I have seen fireworks before, Tony."

"Yes, but this is your first Fourth of July as an American." He wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this conversation, but his gut told him he needed to go there. "You know we never talked much about you becoming a citizen." Ah, there it was, the subject that had been bugging him, often subconsciously, for months.

Ziva scoffed and raised an eyebrow. "As I recall you had quite a lot to say about it."

He grimaced, smoke wafting in from outdoors burning his throat. "Yeah," he started, then cleared his throat, "I'm sorry I wasn't more supportive back then, I was just trying…"

She raised her eyebrows, curiosity swirling in her dark eyes.

Guilt and pain swirling in his mind. "Never mind, I don't want to spoil tonight." He ignored her look of confusion, and decided to continue with a related train of thought. "I'm sorry I missed your ceremony."

She narrowed her eyes, and stepped closer, into his space, not giving an inch. "You already apologized for that, and I told you it was not your fault, you had no choice."

It never ceased to amaze him how soothing her words could be, how much empathy she kept locked up inside that tough-as-nails exterior. It was one of the things that had surprised him most about her. One of the things that made him feel privileged whenever she showed him that side of her.

"I know the job comes first."

His chest tightened at her casually spoken words. They had both heard that many times, ever since they were little kids, and he, for one, was getting sick of it. They both deserved better. "Maybe the job shouldn't always come first."

She frowned and opened her mouth, no words came out.

Watching her get lost in thought, he said, "Anyway, how does it feel to be free of Mossad?"

"Peaceful."

Pleased at steering the conversation into brighter territory, more fitting for a warm summer day, surrounded by good friends, he said, "That's good, right?"

She gave him one of her brightest smiles, her eyes catching the warmth of the sun, a warmth that could grow new, happy memories. "Better than I had ever expected."

The tightness in his chest melted away as his own smile grew. "I'm so glad you're back, that you're …here."

"I'm happy to be here." She stared at him with a curiosity that seemed to strip away all his defensive layers.

How did she always know when he was not telling her everything? Choosing not to go down that rabbit hole, he pointed outside, and said, "I bet you'd be even happier with a burger." He turned to leave, to join the rest of the team in the garden.

She gently grabbed his arm. "Tony, why were you being a—" she broke eye contact, shook her head slightly and shrugged—"jerk, when I was studying for my citizenship?"

There was no accusation in her tone, or her eyes, but it hurt all the same. It hurt, because he knew he had hurt her with his words. It hurt, because it made him remember what had led up to her decision to become a US citizen .

He glanced around uneasily, the tightness in his chest was back with a vengeance. He hoped she would drop the subject, but he knew her better than that.

Sighing heavily, he looked away, gathering his thoughts. "I was trying to get back what we had, go back to how we were when you first joined NCIS."

He shook his head again, then met her gaze. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, eyes full of understanding. Her thumb drew circles on his arm, releasing some of his tension.

"It didn't work, it all came out wrong." He shrugged and swallowed hard.

"We are not those people anymore, Tony."

"I know." He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and blinked rapidly.

"We have both grown." She glanced away, pursed her lips. When she locked eyes with him again, she squeezed his arm lightly, reassuringly. "Our friendship has grown."

He smiled softly, she was right. He wished they—she—hadn't gone through certain things, but they were closer now. Hearing her say those words was like shrugging off a cloak of guilt and regret that had shrouded him since that fateful evening in her apartment.

His stomach growled, he could only resist the mouthwatering smells floating into the kitchen for so long. "Let's get you some real American food."

She bumped into his arm playfully as they walked out, and as the warmth of the evening sun touched his face, he felt lighter than he had in over a year.

They reached the porch and stopped for a moment, looking out into the garden. He sensed her hesitation as she took in her friends—family—standing around smiling, laughing, generally having a good time.

His hand reached for hers as he said, "Happy Independence Day, Ziva David, American extraordinaire."