Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Her eyes slowly opened, to find the tattoo on his back flexing with the movement of his shoulders. Silently, she stretched and pushed herself up, bracing herself on her elbow. "You are beautiful, you know that?" He turned to her as he began pulling on the pale blue button-down. A grin tugged at his lips, and he knelt on the bed.

"Look who's talking." He replied, leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. "You are beautiful." He whispered between kisses. She chuckled softly, stealing another kiss, and another and another, one hand moving to brush over the knot on his wrist before moving up and brushing over his chest. He had been thin when they met eight years ago- at first, she had thought he was sick instead of just thin, but then she began to realize that it was just his body type- and since she'd been in America, she noticed that he'd begun to thin out more. He laid a hand on her hip, tugging her closer, deepening the kiss, before his chivalry won out.

That, and the little boy hiding outside the bedroom door.

"Ziva, as... as much as I want to..." She nodded, just as reluctant to stop the passion building in her veins.

"Take it slow." She finished; he nodded. Gently, she reached up, taking his face in her hand. She stared into his eyes for several moments, before whispering, "Beautiful." He gave her a soft smile, meeting her lips again in a soft kiss, just as the bedroom door opened and Asher poked his head in.

"Abba? Ima?" Tim pulled away, turning to find the boy standing in the doorway, shuffling his feet nervously. He grinned.

"Hey, you're up early." He replied, holding out a hand. The boy rushed to him, taking his father's hand. Slowly, he pushed the sleeve up, revealing the tattoo on his wrists.

"What is this?" Tim met Asher's green eyes before glancing at Ziva, who crawled to the edge of the bed and perched on it. Then, she pulled the boy into her arms and onto her lap, wrapping her arms around him as laid his head on her shoulder. "Ima, what is that?" She glanced at the tattoo, unable to hide the smile as she turned back to her son.

"It is a tattoo." Asher pulled away to look at her, surprised.

"But... but we are not allowed to have-"

"Well, things are different here in America, my angel. And Abba is not Jewish, so it does not affect his religion."

"Oh. But why?" The child turned his green eyes to his father, and Tim took a seat beside them.

"Because I wanted to." He whispered, pulling the sleeve of his shirt up farther and holding his wrist up. The child leaned close, green eyes wide as he drank in the knot, but when he found his name and the meaning, as well as his birthdate, he looked up at Tim, a bright smile on his face.

"For me?" The innocent awe in his son's voice made Tim's heart clench, and he nodded. Instantly, the boy turned to Ziva. "Abba made it for me!" Ziva glanced at Tim, tears in her eyes, before turning back to their son.

"I know, my angel. He had it done because he loves you. Just like he loves me." She whispered, brushing the boy's hair back from his face and pressing a kiss to his temple.

"He got one for you too?" Asher asked, looking at his mother. "Where is it?" Ziva glanced at Tim, who sighed and removed his shirt. He turned, allowing Asher to see the knot and star entwined on his back. The boy's mouth dropped, and slowly, he reached out, but Ziva grabbed his hand.

"It's okay, Ziva. He can touch." After a moment, she let her son's hand go, and the boy brushed his small fingers over his father's tattoo. His green eyes moved over the tattoo, searching for something, before he turned to his mother.

"Where is your name, Ima?" Ziva chuckled.

"The star is for me." She whispered, causing Asher to glance at the star and turn back, reaching out to trace it on his father's skin.

"Does it come off?" Tim glanced over his shoulder at his son, and shook his head.

"No. It's permanent." Asher nodded.

"Do you have others?" He asked, amazement brought on by the simple Celtic knot on his father's wrist sparking a curiosity Ziva didn't dare extinguish. Tim chuckled softly and glanced at Ziva. He shook his head, shifting to look at his son.

"No, just these."

"Will you get more?" Tim shrugged.

"Maybe." Asher's face fell. Gently, he reached over, lifting his son's face to his gaze. "Someday." That lit the boy's eyes.

"Can I come?" He glanced to Ziva, who chuckled and nodded.

"If Abba has ever gets another one, you may go."

They spent the next several hours unpacking and putting things away. Both Tim and Ziva agreed to let Asher decorate his own room, and so left him to his own devices, only returning to check on him. As Tim worked on the kitchen, Ziva worked on the living room, and so was the first one to answer the door when she heard the knock.

"Agent Gibbs. What are you-" Tim joined her, in time to pull her back as his boss entered, carrying something. He set the object down and turned to his youngest agent.

"Where's Asher, Tim?" The young father bit his lip, before glancing over his shoulder. After a moment, he excused himself, going back to the bedroom. He returned minutes later, Asher settled on his hip, whispering softly to the boy. When he set the child down, the boy slowly went to the object and slowly removed the blanket it was covered with. Sitting in front of him, was a beautiful chair, crafted of gorgeous, varnished oak. Asher looked up, but Gibbs had disappeared and was returning with something else. He slowly removed the blanket and stepped back, watching as the boy's eyes widened. Quickly, he turned to his parents.

"Abba, Ima! It is a desk! He made me a desk!" Ziva turned wide dark eyes to Gibbs. He chuckled.

"Every boy needs a desk, Ziva." She turned her gaze to Tim, who just shrugged and held out his hand.

"Thank you, Gibbs." The two men shook hands, and Tim turned to his son, who was pulling out drawers and examining everything. "Asher, what do you say?" The boy shut the drawer he'd pulled out and looked up at the older man.

"Toda." Gibbs chuckled.

"You're welcome."