note: Greetings everyone. This really should've been up yesterday but I spent too long watching videos to have enough time to edit this. So now I'm posting it instead of finishing off an essay, naturally.
This'll either be the penultimate chapter, or the next one will be that, I haven't decided yet. Definitely one more to go, at least. Just thought you guys might wanna know where this stands.
Anyways, this is a fluff fest. But always what I had in mind when I saw this verse of the song. I hope you guys like it. And, if you haven't searched for the song on YouTube yet, do. S'good. Thanks, as ever, for the reviews et al, you're all so lovely. Anyway, enjoy.

disclaimer: don't look at me


"Words of reassurance,
But only if they're true.
Just some simple kindness,
No vengeance from the gods,"

Life-ning; Snow Patrol


"Honey, I'm home."
He calls out to her, only partly joking, as soon as he opens the door. He knows she's there- her car's in the drive and it's her apartment, after all- but he's not quite expecting her to poke her head round the kitchen door and then walk straight toward him.

Her arms wrap round him as she pulls him close in a tight hug, a little unlike her, and her grip hardly loosens when she pulls back to kiss his lips briefly before murmuring in his ear.
"I missed you."

He grins, squeezing her a little tighter.
"I missed you too, Ziva."

She steps away, headed back toward the kitchen, and it's then that he notices the smell lingering in the air.

"You cooking?" he asks as he hangs his coat up on the rail by the door. His shoes follow, sitting next to hers. Though he can't lie, the domesticity scares him a little, it brings with it a certain comfort. Like this actually is home, and not just his partner's apartment.

"I thought I would make you something, in honor of your safe return."
Her voice is muffled somewhat through the half-open door but he can hear the smile in her tone. He heads to the kitchen, socked feet making light noises as he walks. His fingers brush against the wood and push the door forward.

"Ziva, I was picking up a witness. In Illinois. It wasn't a life-threatening mission."

She turns from her place at the stove, a shy grin upon her lips.
"Anything could have happened!"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. It has also been… two months. Since we… And it coincided with your coming back and I thought I could do something special. I- I can stop, if you would prefer Chinese-"

"Hey, this is perfect, thank you."
He slides his arms round her waist, pressing up against her back, and brushes his lips by her ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

Her cheeks flush a little pink but he sees her deliberate focus on stirring onions in a pan for what it is- an attempt to stop the blush spreading. With a kiss to her jaw, he steps away.

"What can I do to help?"


"I really did miss you, y'know."

She stops midway through a spin of her fork and lets the spaghetti slip back to the bowl rather ungracefully.
"I know." she says, after a while.

He sets his wine glass down and eyes her, unsure whether or not to continue. She's stopped, though, ready to listen, and he clears his throat.
"I mean, I called you and stuff, but it wasn't the same," he pauses again, nervous. "You still weren't… there, with me, an- and like you said earlier, it's been two months. I think I've gotten used to you being with me."

There's a mild frown on her face as she looks at him, apparently perplexed.

"I could hardly sleep without you, Ziva."

Her eyes widen, and he sends her a crooked, mildly apologetic, grin.
"It was only a couple nights, but I just ended up lying there, and… kinda wishing you were with me."

He watches as she pushes her chair back and stands, walking toward him with a sense of purpose similar to that of when he walked in the door earlier. He stands up himself without noticing it.
She kisses him, slow and lengthy and with her hands clutching his shirt collar, as his arms wind their way round her waist and hold her there. It's not a rushed or heated embrace, but his heart pounds for an altogether different reason.

He rests his forehead against hers when they pull back, breathing heavy. When he speaks, his voice cracks a little.
"I love you."

She smiles, and raises her head to catch his lips again, chastely.
"I love you too."

They've never said the words before, but they don't feel foreign to his ears, and he holds her close to relish the moment.

"I think dinner's getting cold." he whispers, hushed, into her ear.

She tells him she doesn't care, and he believes her.


His arms find her the moment they curl up in bed together that night. She rests her head on his chest and traces shapes on his hip as she hums lightly.

"I could not sleep well without you, either, actually."

Her confession is sudden and takes him quite by surprise, but he doesn't let go.
"Really?"

"Yes. I got a few hours each night, I suppose, but it was not the same. I realised that this," she pushes her fingers lightly into his side, and ignores his subsequent squeal, "is what I am used to. And that it is what I want."

He pauses, fingers curled in her hair.
"D'you think we should move in together?"

She tenses, his question apparently as sudden as her earlier words, but soon relaxes, and moves into his embrace a little more.
"I'd like that."

He smiles down at the top of her head and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Goodnight, Tony."

"G'night, Ziva."

Sometimes he's scared by just how simple things can be when it comes to her.

He shifts a little on the mattress, adjusts his head on his pillow, and shuts his eyes.
He's out like a light.


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