Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Twenty-Four

She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom, in nothing but her bra and underwear, studying herself.

You definitely look five and a half months pregnant now. Before you know it, you won't be able to walk, and will have to be rolled to the hospital.

A moment passed as Ziva shifted, rolling her shoulders. She hissed, reaching up to adjust the straps, of her bra, though they were already as loose as they could possibly get and on the last hooks. She groaned softly. "Great, just what I need." She tugged gently at the straps of her bra, staring at the two exceedingly soft mounds that had replaced her breasts. "You cannot possibly get any bigger. I am already wearing a thirty-two D cup, you do not need to keep growing! How big are you going to get? Triple E's?" She turned her gaze to the ceiling. "Please, not that. I can handle a D-"

"You okay?" She turned, to find Tim leaning into the bedroom, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Just talking to your... breasts?"

She blushed. "Did you need something?"

He held up the camera. "Picture, right?"

"Right." She nodded, releasing a breath before following him downstairs after pulling on his sweats. Once the photos were taken, she made a beeline for the kitchen. Tim followed, chuckling softly.

"Hungry?" Ziva turned back, meeting his gaze before she grabbed a bowl and filled it with almonds. Then, she made her way towards him, holding the dish out to him. He smiled softly, taking one before following her into the living room. She took a seat on the sofa, groaning softly.

"I'm always eating. It's like... as soon as I woke up this morning, all I want to do is eat." She sighed. "Throw in the fact that my breasts do not appear to be done growing and I've got stretch marks that extend from my belly to my feet..." She turned to him. "I look horrible."

He smirked, taking a seat beside her. "You do not look horrible."

"I look fat."

"You don't look fat, you look pregnant."

She shifted to face him, only to wince at the cramp in her leg. With minor difficulty, she pulled her feet up onto the sofa beside him. He glanced at her feet, before returning his gaze to her face, watching as she curled against the back of the sofa, digging into her dish of almonds. After a moment, he reached down, picking up her left foot. Her head snapped up, dark eyes widening in shock as he began to gently massage the cramps out of her muscles. "You... you don't have to do that, Tim-"

He shrugged. "I'm partially responsible for the state you're in, the least I can do is help relieve some of your stress."

Tears came to her eyes. "Thank you, Tim." He nodded.

Though things had been strained for them the last few weeks, he'd slowly begun to remember little things from their life together- the first night they slept together, when he asked her out, the day they got engaged. But everything else- their wedding, the news of the pregnancy, the accident, the last four years- was still a blur. But he was starting to remember, slowly but surely. And, slowly, he was starting to touch her again.

Though they hadn't kissed since that kiss on the cheek she'd given him, and sex... sex wasn't even on the table.

No matter how much she longed to lock him in their room and take him against his protests. Ziva might have been used to getting what she wanted, but this... this wasn't her decision to make. And no matter how much it hurt, she respected that, and would be willing when he did come to her.

She sighed. "I really don't look fat?"

He met her gaze. "No. Why would you ask that?"

She shrugged. "I just... I feel fat. And... bloated and... exhausted and... hungry and..."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And pregnant?"

"Yes. And pregnant." She giggled softly, and he relaxed, briefly stopping his work on her feet. "Tim? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just... I like hearing that."

"Hearing what?"

"Your laugh." A blush crept across her cheeks, and she grabbed another almond, biting down on it to hide her embarrassment.

"You like my laugh?" He nodded. "That's very sweet."

Silence soon filled the room, and eventually, Tim finished working on her feet. He gave her a soft smile as he got up, heading into the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee. Ziva sighed, setting her now empty bowl on the coffee table. She could feel him moving, stretching and shifting inside her; a small smile tugged at her lips, as she subconsciously began to rub her belly, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

"You okay?" She looked up at him, nodding.

"Just tired." He returned to his place beside her, a cup of coffee in his hands. Without a word, he returned to the book he was reading-

An hour later, Ziva shifted closer, until she was resting her head on his shoulder. Tim's gaze snapped up and he turned, to find her sound asleep against his side. He tried his hardest to return to his book, but couldn't focus thanks to her snoring. No matter how many months he spent in a coma, a drunken, emphysemic sailor still sounded like a drunken emphysemic sailor. Eventually, he set the book aside, turning his attention to his wife.

Even with the weight she was putting on from her pregnancy, she was still beautiful. His gaze drifted down to her belly, and after a moment, he reached out, brushing his fingers against the sensitive skin, before moving to pull away-

She shifted closer, reaching up and covering his hand with hers, pinning him against her stomach. Clearly, she was used to holding his hand while they slept, because she didn't let go; instead, she tightened her hold. Tim swallowed, trying to pull away when he stopped. Something moved beneath his hand, and he started, a soft gasp of surprise escaping his throat, even as Ziva's dark eyes slowly opened.

"Tim?"