Reminder: This story is AU, so my characters are AU.
Disclaimer: Pretty please? … Fine.
Ziva relaxed even more – if that were possible – under Tony's fingers gliding softly through her hair. She was amazed at the tenderness with which he brushed her tangled curls, making sure to hold the top of the strand so as not to pull against her head when he encountered a particularly big knot. He made sure to put the tangle free sections neatly over her shoulder before starting with the next section as not to confuse them. Many times she considered hiring him as her private hair stylist, if only so that she could relax as much as she has every time he brushes her hair.
When he finished with the last few strands, he carefully pulled the rest from her shoulder and ran the brush through another few times. Ziva was almost sad when he set the brush aside, because it had felt so wonderful against her scalp, but she changed her mind when his fingers replaced the brush and started combing through her hair. She closed her eyes in cheer enjoyment as he began sectioning off parts to start a French braid. She was a little surprised at this, as a French braid is tricky to do, but that thought went out the window as soon as it entered. She was enjoying herself too much.
Some time later, she was sad to no longer feel his fingers running through her curls as he had finished the braid.
"Do you have hair tie?" he asked her.
"It is in my bag in the bathroom," she replied.
"You'll have to walk with me to get it then," he said while still holding the end of the braid so that it won't fall apart.
They got up from the bed and walked close to each other to the bathroom. Ziva took the hair tie out of her bag and handed it to him. He expertly ended off the braid and let it fall down onto her back.
"You can look now, if you want. I hope it is up to standard – I haven't made one of these in years," he chuckled, trying to conceal his nervousness at her coming criteria.
Without a word, she turned to the mirror and inspected his creation. To her surprise, she now sported a perfectly made French braid. She almost gasped and leant closer to better inspect his handiwork. She turned her head this way and that, looking at it from every possible angle she could muster, while Tony stood watching over her shoulder in anticipation of her verdict.
Finally, she turned to him.
"Well?"
She was silent for a beat longer, before a smile stretched across her face.
"I love it, Tony. Thank you." And with that she shyly stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug. Not expecting this, it took him a second to respond, but then she felt his strong arm wrap around her waist and hug her back. They stood there for a few moment while Tony looked at their reflection in the mirror. He liked the picture he saw. It was cute how she had to stand on her toes to be able to reach her arms around his shoulders. He then looked at his own arms where they were holding her around her slim waist with the braid's end tickling his forearm. Much to soon for both of their tastes, she pulled away and sunk back to her actual height before him. She still had a smile on her face.
"I'm glad you like it."
"I do."
"So... Breakfast?"
"Sounds good. I'm just going to change quickly."
"Me too. I'll meet you in the kitchen." With that and one last smile, he left the bathroom. Once in the bedroom again, he quickly made the bed and put on a pair of jeans and a new shirt.
He then went to the kitchen to start preparing their breakfast while he waited for Ziva to finish. He was just about to pour the coffee when he heard her padding barefoot down the hall. Turning the corner, she was dressed casually in skinny jeans and a top. Her braid was draped over her shoulder.
"Just in time," he greeted her. She watched as he poured them coffee and sat down at the counter. "Is some cereal good for this morning or do you want something heavier? We still have lots of pancake batter."
"Cereal will be fine, thank you."
He took out bowls and spoons after handing her a cup of coffee and proceeded to pour cereal for himself before handing her the box. The milk followed and soon he was sitting next to her, enjoying their meal.
"So, what are we doing today?" she asked him between bites.
"Well, it's still a little early for a movie. We can't go outside. Your hair is already braided." He paused to think for a few seconds. Suddenly his face lit up. "Oh, I know! We could play a game!"
"What type of game, Tony?" she asked, her face sceptical.
This silenced him, as he had not thought so far ahead. She smiled at the frown that was suddenly on his face. When they had finished eating, she took their bowls to the sink and quickly rinsed them out. By the time she returned, he was still perched on the stool, but she could see he was going to propose something soon. She didn't have to wait long.
"How about we play Twenty Questions?"
"Twenty Questions?"
"Yeah, it's really easy. We ask each other twenty questions as a means to get to know one another better."
"What type of questions do you ask?"
"Normal things, like favourite colour, favourite food etcetera. You don't necessarily have to stop at twenty – you see where the game takes you. And if you don't want to answer a particular question, you just say so and we move on. You want to play?"
"Okay," she agreed. "But let us move to the living room. The couch is more comfortable than these chairs."