Rifiuto: Non Mirena
Thanks to DS2010 for reviewing 81, Reader aka Sun Samurai and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 80 and 81.
Tim was the first one up that night, his inability to sleep leaving him wide awake, as the aspirin his wife had taken an hour earlier after the boy's last feeding, for the discomfort had relaxed her to the point where she actually slept through the crying. After a moment, Tim got up, slipping out of the room and making his way to the nursery. Being careful to avoid flicking on the overhead light, Tim made his way to the small dresser, turning on the small table lamp before going to the crib. He studied the baby for several minutes, before reaching down and scooping the infant up.
"Shh. Hush, ahuva." Gently, he held the little boy against his chest, hoping the beat of his heart and the sound of his voice would help soothe the baby. The familiar comfort of being held seemed to relax the infant briefly before he started to cry again. After quickly checking that the baby needed changing- he didn't- Tim turned back to the door. The most likely option was that he was hungry, but Ziva was sound asleep- so sound asleep she was snoring- and that meant he'd have to wake his wife up in order for him to be fed- and Ziva had fed the baby an hour earlier, so... but then again, Tim could be wrong about that. He couldn't remember if babies needed to eat every hour or not the first few days after birth. The other option was that the boy just wanted to be held-
After a moment, he slipped out of the room, going downstairs. Better to try what he was thinking, and if that didn't work, he'd wake his wife up.
He was silent as he slipped a CD into the player and turned it on, keeping the volume low so he didn't wake his wife. Once the music started playing, Tim adjusted his hold on the infant, humming softly. The music, the sound of his father's heart and the gentle swaying soon calmed the infant down, reducing his tears to soft hiccups.
There, nothing to be worried about, right? He's stopped crying. Clearly, this is what he wanted- to be held. Now just... just don't drop him or hurt him and maybe you can do this parenting thing.
Gently, Tim brushed a soft kiss to his son's head, breathing in the scent of his dark curls. It was a scent he would soon come to recognize- the beautiful scent of a baby, the kind of scent on a parent could recognize.
The baby whimpered, and Tim shifted, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and wrapping it around the infant; the boy seemed to settle against his father's skin, the heartbeat in his ear and the soft cotton of his father's shirt wrapped around him. Tim continued to sway, becoming lost in the feel of this tiny human being against his chest, with his wife's dark eyes and hair, and his nose and chin- so lost that he didn't hear the footsteps come into the living room.
Ziva was leaning against the wall near the living room entrance, dressed in a pair underwear and one of his old MIT shirts, preferring the underwear to his boxers just so there was less hassle with the bathroom, her long dark hair tumbling down her back in tangled curls. She was exhausted, but there was a small smile on her face. Tim met her gaze.
Uh-oh. Guess I'm caught.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I should have gotten you up, but you need your sleep-"
She chuckled, moving away from the wall and coming towards him. "It's okay, ahuva. This is what he wanted-" She reached out, gently running a hand over her son's head. The baby stared at her with wide eyes, sighing softly as Tim continued to sway. "He's perfectly happy to be with his Abba, aren't you, Amal? Yeah, that's all you wanted, was to be held by Daddy..." She met her husband's gaze, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. A small laugh escaped her throat as she watched the baby's eyes begin to close, the swaying, sound of his father's heart and the feel of his father's shirt wrapped around him lulling the baby off to sleep. "He's gone back to sleep." Tim glanced down at his son, relaxing slightly.
"Thank God." She chuckled.
"Come on, let's put him back to bed."
Once the baby was back in his crib, the couple returned to their own room; Ziva shifted onto her side to face him, reaching up a hand to cradle his cheek. He studied her silently, picking out the features his son possessed, before sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She giggled as he gently nipped at her palm, before shaking her head and kissing him. Ziva then tucked her head beneath his chin, sliding her hand down his chest. She kissed his throat, pressing kiss after kiss to his skin, her hand moving down towards his pants-
He grabbed her hand, pulling her gently away and lacing their fingers. She looked up at him, clearly hurt. "Jeanne didn't give you the okay, remember? Six weeks."
She groaned, pulling away and laying her head back on the pillow. "I don't care, Tim." She met his gaze. "I want you. I haven't had you for nine months, and I want you." She pushed him onto his back, sitting up. "Don't you want me?"
He met her gaze, playing with her fingers. Oh, God, absolutely. How could I not? He nodded. "Of course I do. But we need the okay first. You're still bleeding, and the last thing I want to do is risk you getting an infection." She sighed, realizing he was right. After a moment, she laid down, settling herself on his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin. Slowly, she lifted their joined hands, studying them, before gently nipping the space between his thumb and index finger and then allowing his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.