It was the first night of Passover, and they were about to be late for the Seder they had been invited too.
He'd skipped out of the office around three, leaving McGee and Ellie to the paperwork, and with mouths aghast. Both had tried to protest that Tony was not Jewish, but Gibbs had simply asked him to say hi to Ziva.
"I have been thinking," Ziva said, as she appeared from the bathroom. Her hair done up, and wearing a little bit of makeup.
She was wearing that teal blue dress she tended to wear for Thanksgiving. It was probably a little warm for the dress, but it hugged her figure in all the right places.
"That's dangerous," he said, not looking up from the shirt he was buttoning.
"Isn't this where you ask, what I was thinking about?" she asked, as she bent down and fished under the bed, for a pair of shoes, that were hardly ever worn.
It seemed she was making a big effort for this dinner. Rachel and Jo, had called it a 'casual' Passover Seder, when they had invited them during Ziva's Purim party, almost a month beforehand.
New friends were hard.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked, as he looked up, satisfied he'd gotten all the buttons in the right place.
"Your father," she said, as she stepped into the kitten heels.
His heart skipped a beat.
"Are you leaving me for him?" he asked, in an exaggerated tone. "Before you confirm that, I should remind you that when it comes to DiNozzo's, the sequel is always better than the original."
She laughed a little, and ran her hands through her curls.
"I was thinking about his current situation," Ziva begun, as she stepped closer to him. She was wearing those earings he had gotten her last Valentine's Day, they were her favourite, she had claimed.
"Oh god," he muttered. "You're not going to set him up with a woman, are you?"
"I do not know any women his age," she said, as she adjusted his collar.
"They don't have to be his age," he said, with a frown. "Remember what he was like with you, when you two first met."
"He is very charming," she said with a purrr. "But, I was actually thinking of his living situation."
"Are you getting sick of me, already?" he asked, as he untucked and retucked in his shirt.
It had been a couple of weeks, since he had installed his father in his apartment, after his latest engagement had fallen through. Not much had really changed for the two of them, Tony already spent nine days out of ten at Ziva's. Her place always felt like more home, with its dozen throw pillows, and tiny television.
"No," she said with a smile.
He stepped back slightly, trying to remember where he had put the shoes that went with these pants. Were they here, or at his? This two apartment thing had drawbacks.
"He'll get himself on his feet soon," Tony said, as he walked around the bed, to the side he usually slept on. "Then you'll be rid of me."
"And, if I don't wish to be rid of you?" she asked, as she walked toward her closet.
"What?" he asked, stopping in his tracks.
"Maybe, I like having you around," she called out, leaning her head out of the closet.
It was one of those post-war reach-in closets, which had turned into a giant game of jenga, since two thirds of his wardrobe moved in. Everytime Ziva did laundry, she said something about getting some more closet organisation. They were yet to venture to a certain Swedish furniture store, with its flat-pack furniture, of which assembly required a PhD.
He bent down in front of his side of the bed, and felt around. He found a discarded sock, the bag they had stuffed his winter clothes into, and her yoga mat. His shoes were nowhere to be found. The ones he had worn to work would have to do. Rachel and Jo, wouldn't notice, he told himself. They were probably those 'shoes off in the house' people, anyway. They looked like the type.
Maybe he could change his pants.
"What are you saying?" he asked, as he stood back up, ignoring the creak in his knee.
She stepped out from the closet, holding his brown shoes, the one he had been looking for. Sometimes, it seemed like she could read his mind.
"I think what I am saying, I would like you to move in with me," she said, handing the shoes to him.
"That's what I thought you were saying," he said as he sat down on the bed. It sagged under his weight.
It seemed a trip to that furniture store was in their future.
"We are on the same paper then," she said, as she sat next to him.
"Page," he corrected as he fiddled with the shoelaces.
"Would you like to move in with me, Tony?" she asked, turning to face him. She wore an expectant look. What she was offering was no surprise, but rather a natural progression of things.
He sure would like to know exactly where all his stuff was. But, there were other praticalies, both financial and material.
Would his mid-century monochrome jibe with her cosy kasbah vibe?
"Yeah," he said. He really did.
"Good," she replied, patting his knee, as he bent down to put his shoe on. "We can organise it this weekend."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to move into my place?" he asked.
"In what way?" she asked. "We never stay to your place."
Early on, when they first got together, in those hazy pre-Israel weeks, they had tried to be more equitable, and visit each apartment alternately. That had fallen by the wayside once they returned stateside. Ziva's place was simply easier, and better in a way he couldn't quite explain.
Ziva's place was home.
"True," he said. "But my place is bigger. I've got lot of stuff."
Ziva's place had no room for his piano, not unless she sacrificed her dining table, which was both unlikely and impractical. Ziva liked hosting dinner parties.
"Yes, you do," Ziva said with a sigh. It had only been just short of five years since her previous apartment had been blown up by Mossad, to cover her tracks. Starting from scratch invited a sort of minimalism. "But, it is not like this place is forever. My lease expires in October."
He knew this, having been there when she signed on for another year. He'd been tempted to ask her to move in with him then, but that would have been out of convenience, and because he missed working with her. Now, he actually felt ready to live with her, not just play house.
"And," he said dragging out the sentence.
"I have been looking at houses," she admitted. "Not seriously, just browsing, getting ideas."
The David-DiNozzo dream house, was something they had talked about in Israel. Eli David had left Ziva a sizeable fortune, and she wanted to buy a house, eventually. She wanted to build a home with him. One with shelves for his DVDs, a huge kitchen, and brightly painted rooms for all the kids they were going to make.
"Are you asking me to move in with you, or buy a house with you?" he asked, fiddling with the second shoe.
"I am asking for you to move in with me," she said, fluffing her hair. "I will probably only renew my lease for just one more year. If we find a house we really love, then I would like to buy that house. I know I am in a different financial position to you."
Like hell, he was going to live in their house, without paying a dime. He wasn't his father.
"I'd like that," he said, as he took her hand. "I want to buy a house with you."
"You are not the only one with a five year plan," she declared.
"How about, when your lease is over in the fall, we move back to my place?" he asked.
He loved her place, but he needed to be pragmatic. They could swap his dining table for hers, as it had more chairs. Her moroccan style floor cushions, the ones he was always tripping over, could find a home somewhere. Her jungle like bathroom plant, would just have to adjust to his light starved much smaller bathroom.
"But, what about your father?" she asked.
"What about him?" he asked, as he finally put his other shoe on.
"Where will he go?" she asked.
There were a whole lot of questions floating around, and not enough answers.
"He's not gonna stay there forever," he said. He knew his Dad. "He'll find some new woman, or business deal and chase it."
"He is old, Tony," she said, a sadness seeping into her voice.
"I know that," he said, with a sigh. "Believe me."
Tony often looked at his father, desperate not to end up like him. So unsettled. One crisis away from catastrophe.
"He needs a home," she said.
"He's not a dog," he replied desperately trying not to raise his voice. "We don't need to rescue him from the kennel."
"No," Ziva said, voice neutral. "But, I thought maybe he could stay there. He has been saying how he would like to be closer to you."
"To us," Tony said his voice lighter.
They had managed a couple of Sunday lunches with Senior, since he arrived in D.C. Tony had found himself enjoying the closeness, and the regularity. He thought also, of the ring, his mothers, which Senior had returned to him, with a new recipient in mind. That was hiding in the built-ins behind his couch, in a place Ziva would never accidentally stumble upon, if they happened to be at his apartment.
This family togetherness was nice. Normal even. A dark part in Tony, the little boy who waited for the Dad who never turned up, wondered how long this would last. A leopard never changed their spots.
"Yes, he did say to us," Ziva echoed.
"It's a nice idea," he said, with a heavy sigh. Ziva lived in a rather expensive neighbourhood. "But, I don't have a bottomless inheritance, and I definitely can't cover a mortgage, and half the rent here. I did not become a Special Agent for the money."
Ziva also had the three properties in Israel, two of which she was renting out, and would be looking at selling eventually. The farmhouse, was too personal to have anyone else live in. She was not hurting for money, even if she lost a lot of the rent for the apartments on the property management agencies, and extra taxes.
"I as I said, I will pay more rent," Ziva said, wondering if perhaps she should try and nip the fight in the bud. They were getting late for the Seder."The money is just sitting there."
" That's just a temporary solution. When we buy a house, even when I move in here, I want it to be fifty-fifty," he said. "Things should be equal."
"Things would be equitable," Ziva said, trying to soothe his worries. "It would not be forever."
Or would it? Would he be struggling to pay two mortgages, when he and Ziva went all in on a house? When he and Ziva, were trying to feed and clothe mini DiNozzo's?
"It's not just that," he said, focusing his eyes on his shoes. "I don't really think I want to be letting Dad live there rent-free. I've covered enough of his bills over the years."
How many times, had he swiped his card at the damn Adam's House Hotel, and dread next months bill.
"I do not think your father, will accept living there rent-free," Ziva said.
She clearly did not know Senior well enough. The man would jump at anything free.
"Maybe not," Tony said, aware that even with Ziva's fastest driving they would be late for this Seder. She promised him that Rachel and Jo, were lax when it came to the stricter traditions, and he hoped that extended to punctuality. "But, whatever I ask him to pay would be way below market. Plus, there'd be months where he's late. I don't think I could be his debt collector too."
Ziva found herself looking at her shoes. Maybe, she'd overstepped this time?
"We could simply never look at the account," she offered.
"If he ever found that out," Tony begun. "He'd never pay it."
"I could look after the account," Ziva offered. "You'd never have to know, if he was a bit late."
"I don't want to expose you to that," he murmured.
"I think I can handle it," she said, with the confidence he remembered from her days as the cocky Mossad liaison officer. "We are trying to build a future, and does that not mean sharing the load on some of the difficult stuff."
She'd been doing her therapy homework.
"He'll use his charm," Tony begun.
She let out a laugh.
"How easily you forget about my former career," she said. How easily, he did indeed. He smirked for a moment, glad they had gotten to the point where they could joke about it. "If I could get men to cry for their mothers, with a few words. I can get an old man to pay his rent. Besides, I am immune to DiNozzo charm. I know all the tricks in the book."
"He left me in a hotel room once," Tony said, his voice heavy. Suddenly, he was ten years old again, left alone in Maui, with only room service and movies classified above his age level. "For four days. I don't want you to be disappointed in him, like I was"
Ziva felt her stomach turn. The sins of the father, were not easily forgiven. She had definitely overstepped the line.
"Okay," she said calmly. She was about to backpedal, and backpedal fast. "We should not talk about this. It was just an idea. It is probably not a very good one."
That was the thing. It was a damn good idea.
"It is good," he admitted. "Really good. I worry about him sometimes, the con doesn't sound so exciting when you're pushing eighty."
"I think," Ziva said, as she took a deep breath. "That I am pushing this, because of my own issues."
And with that, Eli David roared his ugly head into their own conversations. He was a ghost they just could not bust.
"I know there are things you wanted to say to your Dad," he said, as he wrapped her hand in hers. "That you never got too."
This conversation weighed heavily on them. This always happened when they talked about Eli. Even in death, he had a foreboding presence.
"A part of me thinks they would have always gone unsaid," she admitted, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "Still, what did or did not happen with my father, does not change you and your father."
Not directly anyway, but neither would deny it had an influence.
"I want you to always see my Dad as a good guy," he said, "When we have kids, their gonna expect to have grandparents, and they should probably have one parent who doesn't have issues with him."
These future children, Tony so easily conjured, would only have one biological grandparent. Ziva, wondered if Gibbs' would fill one of the vacant spots.
"I thought you two were getting better," she said. "Last Sunday was okay. Good, even."
They had developed a routine. Ziva and Tony would cook a lunch, then Ziva would go to the library or on an errand, and Father and Son would watch a ballgame.
"It ebbs and it flows," he replied. Being honest, it was so easy to be honest with her."We've been having a good time lately. I've liked that, but what if this landlord idea ruins that."
"Okay," she said, "It is just an idea, we can never talk about it again. I mean, even if we did bring it up with him, he might have other plans. He always lands on his feet, yes?"
Like a cat. Surely by now, he was running out of lives.
"Most of the time," Tony said softly. "We should get going, we're gonna be late."
"Very late," she said, as she got up, and offered her hands to him. She couldn't play the Israeli card on this one, they were going to be late, late.
"We can blame it on me," he offered, as he stood up. "We;ll say I had a hard time leaving the office. You know making the world a safer place, and all that jazz."
Ziva's friendship with Rachel and Jo was budding. He didn't want anything to stop it from blooming. Ziva had wanted to have more Jewish friends for a while. He liked them too.
"I will just drive fast," Ziva replied, as they walked toward her doorway, hovering near the coat rack. Both of them craned their necks to look at the weather, through the back window. Could they get away without jackets?
"I wanna talk about it," he said, picking up his Spring jacket, and then putting it back. "Later."
He wanted to talk to her about lots of things.
"Of course," she said, as she grabbed her Spring trench coat, the one he'd piled his work bag over the top of. If they were serious about this moving in together thing, they'd have to get organising.
"And, I do want to move in with you," he said, as they both checked their hair in her mosaic-framed mirror, and slipped through the front door. "One hundred percent."
"Good," she said, jangling her keys, as they walked toward the elevator.
"We'll work the rest out," he said. His voice wavering. "Right?"
"We will," she promised, turning to him a showing a huge smile. They stepped into the elevator, and Ziva text Rachel, claiming they were stuck in traffic.
They were so damn late.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
I know in the last chapter, we had father and son be a lot closer, but I think money would be a pressure point for Tony and Senior's relationship.
I'm aware you are all waiting with baited breath for the proposal. It's coming.
I'm a bit of an interior design 'junkie', hence the over description of their interior decor. Did, I find a clip from 'Aliyah' to determine Ziva's home style had Moroccan elements? Did I do the same with 'Family First' for Tony and his monochrome Old-Hollywoodesque apartment? Yes I did.
Thanks for all the reviews, faves and love.