AN: Sorry for the delay folks. Don't ask - life's just been hectic and then my muse ran away. Here's the next chapter. And PLEASE don't blame my beta for this - she hasn't even read it. So typos are clearly my fault.
The park was close to Tim's house and the perfect walking distance location for some outdoor fun. Across the large field, a pickup game of football was taking place, and the kids' laughter could be heard from their vantage points. The city had ordered fireworks for later that night and the open area would be a perfect spot to stretch out on a blanket and watch the night sky.
When Ziva had whispered that she hated fireworks, Tony had frowned.
"They remind me too much of a war zone, Tony. No matter how many pretty colors are in the sky, the sound and the fire can be a bit overwhelming."
He had slipped his arm casually over her shoulder during their walk to the park, and squeezed. "Try it again tonight," he whispered. "You and me and the fireworks – if you hate it that bad, we'll leave, ok?"
She had merely shrugged and they had continued on, her arms laden with blankets to spread over the ground, Tony carrying one of the large coolers with sodas and cold sidedishes.
After helping McGee get the fire going on the grill, they had both scurried off with slices of watermelon shortly after helping McGee get the fire going on the grill. Now they sat shoulder-to-shoulder against the tree trunk of a large oak with draping branches. The neighborhood park had plenty of seating in benches and picnic tables, but the shade and seclusion provided by the tree branches won-out.
A soft breeze rustled the tree branches. Ziva eyes flicked around the field, quickly assessing who was nearby. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she visibly relaxed and leaned to her left, trailing her thumb gently under Tony's lip and wiping the watermelon juice away.
"Thanks," he said, turning his eyes to her and catching sight of her putting that thumb into her mouth.
His mouth dried instantly.
There was something surreal about Ziva being comfortable enough in his presence to do such a suggestive and intimate thing as virtually licking food off his face.
He knew enough to quickly size up her body language and know that she wasn't interested in a public display of affection. She wasn't craving his attentions or trying to start one of their well-practiced flirting sessions. She was merely comfortable enough in her own surroundings, in his presence, to lose herself in the moment.
He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he realized that.
Tony shook his head, "Getting frisky, Zeevah?" he teased, bumping her gently with his shoulder.
"Perhaps," she teased back. "Or perhaps I just really enjoy watermelon."
He rolled his eyes and watched as Abby helped McGee plate the first round of burgers. "I think the food's ready," he said as he stood. He held down his hand for her, shocked when she allowed him to help her to her feet.
The burgers were delicious and the company was fantastic. The air around the picnic table seemed to echo with laughter from story telling and gentle teasing. Abby had brought an ipod with speakers and they had some interesting background music livening up the afternoon.
There was a pick-up game of Frisbee, in which Tony had to explain to Ziva multiple times that the Frisbee was not a discus with which to decapitate someone.
She almost looked disappointed by those instructions.
The football game was significantly more fun; being permitted to run hell-bent into someone was always a thumbs-up in Ziva's book. And when Tony tried to gain possession of the ball by picking Ziva up – with the ball in her hands, no less- and dumping her over his shoulders, they ended in a tangle of limbs just inside the end zone. McGee and Abby laughing like teens, while Tony and Ziva sat in the grass and debated the validity of the goal.
As evening turned to dusk, they made their way to the open field where they spread out two blankets, each grabbing cold beers and settled in for the fireworks.
The first crack echoed through the night sky and Tony watched through the corner of his eye as Ziva visibly jumped. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of her, he knew, but he wondered if she was relaxed enough here with the team, that her bravado had taken the night off.
He shifted from his spot next to her, moving to sit behind her.
"Tony, what-?"
He cut her off with a quick "Shh" as the next cracker went off against the starry backdrop. Tony stretched his legs out on either side of her and gently draped his arms around her form behind. He felt her stiffen at the unexpected embrace.
He dropped his mouth to her ear: "Its not a warzone," he whispered, his thumb tracing what he hoped to be soothing patterns on her forearm. "Just you, me and some fireworks. No guns. No fighting. No war."
He felt her chest rise and fall as she took a deep steadying sigh. A subtle – almost imperceptible- nod was his only reply before her hands shifted and she covered his fingers with her own, lacing their hands together. She leaned back slightly, resting against his chest.
Tony couldn't tell you the different colors in the sky. He couldn't tell you the music that was being piped across the park's speakers. He could tell you that she was relaxed enough to 'ooh' and 'ah' at a few particularly beautiful displays.
He could tell you that Ziva didn't flinch again – well not related to the fireworks, anyway; she did flinch when he lost himself in the moment and he placed a tiny kiss below her ear. He stiffened, realizing his mistake and preparing for death-by-ninja, only to realize that she had tilted her neck to the side, allowing him better access. She tightened her grip on his fingers and stroked his knuckles with her thumb when he didn't do it again, silently telling him that she wasn't upset.
The final display erupted in louder bangs and pops than anyone had predicted. He kept his hold firm but not restricting. And when the sky once again fell dark, no more lights bursting with color, he felt her shoulders slump forward slightly as he began to unwind himself from around her.
He stood and slapped McGee on the shoulder, offering thanks for an awesome cook-out, though it was heavily hidden under teasing and obnoxious comments. It was clear, however, that McGee understood the real meaning and didn't take offense.
Goodnights were passed all around, with hugs being given and received amenably.
Ziva gathered the blanket from the ground and folded it, draping it over her arms. Tony scooped up their cooler with one arm, throwing the other across Ziva's shoulders as they headed back to the car.
"There have not been many days in my life that I would say this, Tony," Ziva said softly. "But today was a good day."
"I have no complaints," he agreed, pulling her slightly closer to his side as they walked.
"None?" she asked, teasing.
"Lots of regrets," he offered. "No complaints."
"What do you regret about today? It was a very nice day!"
I regret not waking you up this morning. I regret that the first words out of my mouth weren't telling you how wonderful you are. I regret that the only excuse I had to hold you, today, was to help you get over fears you should not have. I regret that the day's over and I have to go home alone. I regret I have no excuse to see you tomorrow."
"It was an awesome day," he agreed. "And I have the same regrets today I have every day."
"Ah," she nodded, opening the back door of the car for him so he could load in the cooler. "Life is short, Tony. Perhaps you should not have so many regrets."
He shifted the cooler into the back seat and allowed her to shut the door. He stepped closer to her. "I think we all have regrets, Zi. Its just life."
"I do not regret anything about today," she offered. "You should not either."
"Seriously? You don't regret waking up with me hogging the bed? Or that McGee burned half the hamburgers and we had to share? Or that you've spent the last 24 hours with me glued to your hip?"
"Yes, the burger issue was unfortunate," she smiled up at him and cupped her hand against his cheek. "The rest was just fine."
Tony stepped closer, almost pinning her against the car. "You're not mad at me about before –with the fireworks, are you?" he whispered, referring to both the embrace and the unintentional kiss.
Her thumb stroked his cheek. "I am not mad, no."
Be brave, DiNozzo. Really, she can only kill you once. "What if I did it again?" he whispered, leaning closer.
She said nothing, ever so subtly tipping her head to give him access to her neck.
He leaned in, slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away – or kill him. Whichever.
But when his lips brushed her neck, he felt her relax back against the body of his car and her hand slipped from his cheek to behind his head. Her fingers tangled in the hairs at the base of his neck.
She pulled her neck away from him slightly, bringing his face in front of hers.
"Thank you," she whispered before her lips brushed his.
Her kiss turned into several; there were no dueling tongues or clashing lips. Instead they gently caressed each other, savoring the moment. His fingers rested on her hips, squeezing slightly. Her hands had slipped behind his head and her fingers combed his hair and gently scratched his scalp.
It was the kiss of people who knew each other well, but were afraid of loss. It was the kiss of people who had hard lives where love wasn't given freely, it was played for like a poker chip. Trust was a rarity and faithfulness was so hard to come by that it was almost a legend.
When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.
He thought he was hallucinating when her words reached his ears: "I am proud of you," she said.
"For what?" he asked.
"For so many things. For being you."
He chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, too, Zi. For being everything you were always told you shouldn't be."
She refused to sniffle. She refused to get teary eyed. But she couldn't help but pull him closer and turn her head into his neck.
"It is late," she managed to mutter a few moments later.
"Let's get you home," he replied, pulling away and holding her door for him.
The ride home was quiet, though somewhere about halfway through the journey, his hand had found hers on the center console and their fingers had remained entertained the remainder of the drive.
When he pulled up in front of her building, he made motions to get out and walk her up, but she had stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. "I will be fine," she said.
"Yeah, but-"
"Yes yes - being the gentleman you are, I understand you feel it is your duty to walk me up," she said with an eye roll. "But if you walk me up, I will invite you in. And then we will stay up all night talking. And then I will fall asleep with you next to me again."
"And that would be so bad?" he asked, trying desperately to keep the hurt out of his voice.
"The bad part is that I will become accustomed to it," she whispered. "I have a suspicion that you can be somewhat addictive." She leaned over the console and kissed him, finally allowing the tip of her tongue to caress his bottom lip. She heard and felt him moan into her kiss and she couldn't help but smile in reply.
"I don't mind being addictive," he whined as she gathered her bag from the floorboard. "I could get used to waking up next to you, too. In fact… I … tomorrow morning's goona suck, Ziva."
She chuckled and slipped out of the car, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder as she headed up the steps.
He watched, making sure she made it to her door safely before he allowed his head to fall back against the headrest while he groaned in frustration.