He was noticing the sunburn, he'd acquired from their late afternoon walk across the square, when he heard a Hebrew swear word slip from Ziva's mouth. It was loud. Loud enough, for it not the be muffled by the shower.

The room in the bed and breakfast they were staying at was tight. Smaller than the couchless Parisian hotel room they had shared five years beforehand, when things were so very different. So much of the past half-hour spent getting ready, for dinner with Schmeil and Senior, had been spent tripping over, or banging into things. He was glad, this would be their only night in the cramped room, and hoped their next hotel room was a bit bigger. You are just so American, Ziva had told him, when he'd started whining about the tight dimensions.

"Sweet Cheeks," he called, as he stepped out of the shower, and cracked open the door on the closet sized en-suite. His wet feet sunk into the grossly coloured and crusty-feeling carpet. Damn these European hotel rooms.

She was sitting on the bed, with one shoe on, and her hair half out, holding something in her hands. A small box. Those earings he'd brought her last Valentine's day, maybe. Had something happened to them during the flight, he wondered. They were her go-to dressy jewelry. They are my favourite, she told him whenever she wore them. She always wore them with a smile.

"You okay?" he asked. She looked up at him, and held out what she had been holding. A soft look on her face. Confusion, maybe. Surprise, perhaps.

The ring box. His ring box. She'd found the engagement ring. His dress shoes, were on the floor in front of his well-used duffel. Years of traipsing across the world, meant he only ever traveled carry-on, as did she. Ziva's carry-on seemed to be like Mary Poppins bag, she'd managed to stash her little black dress and dressy sandal-boot hybrids in there.

"Oh," he said. Swallowing thickly, trying to keep his cool. His heart beating far too fast. The internal monologue in his head, was a stream of swear words. "You found it."

"It is beautiful," she said softly, her eyes resting on the ring. The diamond shone in the light. Never doubt an Israeli on diamonds, she'd told him once upon a time.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, next to her. He was still soaked from the shower and he soaked the bed, but neither of them said anything.

"It was my mother's," he told her, after a few seconds of silence.

"I thought it might be," she said, as she picked the ring out the box, admiring the tasteful diamonds. "You do not see rings like this anymore."

"No," he agreed, "You don't."

She put the ring back in the red-velvet box, and closed the box with a clap. She held it out, offering it to him.

"Here," she said, her smile slipping into a frown. Disappointment. "I will let you hide this away. I promise to be surprised when I see it again. When the time is right, yes?"

She was giving him an out. One he did not want to take. He wanted to grab this with both hands open.

"No," he said, as he opened the box again. The evening sun reflected off the ring, making shadows dance on the wall. "I want you to have it now. If you'll take it."

He wanted it all. He wanted their future to begin now.

"You know, I'll take it," Ziva replied. "But I know you, you would have planned something. I will not take that away from you."

She knew him so well. Too damn well. There was no-one else in the world, who knew him so well.

"I did," he said, smiling a little, as relief rose through him. "Remember that dinner The one for our anniversary."

Neither of them were aniversary people, and technically the dinner was about ten days afterwards, due to Jackson's funeral, but the restaurant had been fancy and French anyway.

"Where that other couple got engaged?" she asked. Her eyes lighting up with recognition. A smirk on her face. "You were going to propose there?"

He nodded. She let out a soft laugh. He laughed too. They dissolved into giggles. What else could you do?

"I was also thinking about doing it on the gondola when we go to Venice," he said, spilling the beans. "But, I looked into that, and thought it might end up with us taking a dip in the canals."

"Those canals are filthy," she told him, screwing up her nose, for emphasis.

"Glad, I vetoed that idea," he declared, as he plucked the ring from the box. "But in these last few minutes I've realised something. It doesn't really matter where I do this. All that matters, is that you say yes."

"I will," she whispered. "You know that."

She knew about his five year plan. Marriage. House. Babies. The other week, she'd referred to it, as their five year plan. Two people, who never thought they were worthy of such simple pleasures, wanted the picket-fence life. They wanted to create their own destinies, and have a go, at finding happiness.

"I did have this whole spiel planned," he said. His heart starting to calm down. "And that should not go to waste."

"No," she said. Smiling. "It should not."

Before, he had a chance to think, he was down on one knee in front of her. The towel getting tangled. He took his hand into hers, and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, like he knew it would. He'd gotten his mothers ring resized for her. She had told him her ring size once upon a time.

"I would have said how the man I was nine years ago, wouldn't have believed that the same woman who accused me of having phone sex, and was dressed like GI Jane, would be the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with." he started. The years slipped away like peeling an orange, revealing a sweet centre. "I would have said that the last year has been amazing. I would have told you, how much I love you, and how I want the world for you. How I'm so proud of you, and how much you've grown and changed. How I see how happy you are, and I want to be part of that happiness. I never want to make you unhappy."

He watched how her eyes started to glass over. Her lip quivered.

"Please get up," she whispered. Offering out her hands to him. Thinking of his knees and back. Thinking of the towel coming apart, in the draughty hotel room. "You will hurt yourself."

"I would have told you how you make me what to be a better person," he continued, his own eyes getting glassy. "I would say that with you, I want all of the things I was scared of before, and with everyone else. I want forever with you. I would have asked, Ziva David will you marry me?"

A tear slipped down her face. She leaned forward, and bent down in front of him. There they were, just the two of them, bent down on the floor. It would have looked ridiculous from the outside.

"And, I would have said yes," Ziva declared, another tear falling down her face. "I do say yes. I want forever with you. I want it to be us versus the world. I am so proud of all the changes you are making. I want us to be happy together. I think we will be happy together. Just like it was when were on the field, I will always have your back."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she whispered.

They both smiled. Huge glassy eyed smiles. They laughed. Laughter that sounded so sweet.

"So, we're getting married," he declared, as the both clambered to get up. The towel finally gave out, and he stood in front of her completely naked. Maybe, it was all a metaphor for what was coming next. "Anthony DiNozzo is settling down, I bet there's a bunch of people who thought hell would freeze over first."

She gave him a half laugh, as she handed him the towel.

"I suspect McGee and Abby have a bet on you proposing," Ziva said, as she played with the ring, while he made a show of regaining his modesty, even though his girlfriend, no his fiance had most definitely seen it all before. "One of them will be very happy."

He suspected the bet was more than between Abby and McGee, and was probably an office wide pool. He would be fielding questions about the exact time, and location of the proposal for weeks, by people he barely knew.

For now, he would just enjoy this moment. She said yes, without hesitation. She wanted forever with him. They were going to be build a life together. It was them versus the world.

"Dad'll be glad that he doesn't have to worry about blabbing the secret," he said.

"He knew you wanted to propose," she said, as she wrapped her arms around him. His wet chest hair, leaving marks on her dress. She didn't care. He didn't care. None of this mattered.

"Yeah," Tony said. "It came up, he needed a distraction. He had all these wacky ideas about how I should do it."

Those long Sunday afternoons, spent broadening Seniors palate, and making wild plans, while Ziva studied, seemed long ago now. Still, Tony had enjoyed the time with his Dad, he hoped the traditions would continue. Senior, was probably quite a good wedding planner.

"I love how it all turned out," Ziva said, with pure honesty. "I know it was not your plan, but I like it."

"I wanted you to have a story to tell," he admitted, as she looked up at him, with bright eyes. "Something to tell your friends."

"I will have quite the story," she said, flashing him a smile. "You proposed to me in a towel, because I knocked over the bag, which had the shoe where you were hiding the engagement ring. It already sounds like quite an adventure. One to tell our children, and maybe even grandchildren one day."

He flashed her a smile, as they thought of the future. Of little DiNozzo's with curly hair, and tiny one day, being older than they ever thought they could be, with even smaller DiNozzo's. It was all an exciting path, he couldn't wait to walk, with his hand in hers.

"Well, when you think of it like that," he said.

"I do not keep the type of friends who will care about all of this," she said. "They will only care about our happiness."

"Abby will want a play-by-play," he said. "She will care."

"Yes," Ziva replied. "But, that is Abby, and that is how she will show her excitement for us. All of our friends will be excited for us. Schmeil and your father, will be so happy to celebrate this with us."

"You really don't care how this went down," he asked. Didn't little girls dream about this stuff?

She shook her head. Answering both the asked and the unasked question. Ziva David, had never been that type of girl.

"It happened, exactly how it was supposed to happen," Ziva said softly. "We are getting married, that is what matters."

"Is this where you start to turn into Bridezilla?" he asked. "Am I going to spend the next year having to help you decide between cream and eggshell white?"

She laughed, throwing her hair back. Her slightly wet curls bounced. She had never been the little girl who played bride, yet she remembered watching Tali and her little friends play with sheets, how excited they got. All that fuss for one day.

"I do not think so," she said, still wearing a huge smile. "But, I give you permission to reign me in, if it does happen. Though considering you know that cream and eggshell are two very different colours, you may prove to be very useful."

He wanted the wedding to be something they planned together. They were going to build a wonderful life together.

"Well, I am a man of many talents," he said. She placed a quick peck on his lips.

"Being on time for dinner is not one of them," she murmured, as both her phone and his buzzed. Schmeil and Senior, were three drinks deep and did not have to wait to long for dinner.

"I think they'll be pretty happy with the reason for our tardiness," he said, as he untangled himself from her. He decided to let his ring out. Schmeil could always pass on the message to Senior.

"They will," she said, watching him as he walked back into the bathroom. Through the mirror, he watched as she admired the ring again. It looked so good on her. It looked right. Everything was how it was supposed to be.

Ziva's phone went, and he heard her answer it. The conversation started in English, but slipped into Hebrew. It could only be Schmeil. He wondered if she was telling him, or if they were going to wait until dinner to tell Senior and Schmeil together. The four of them would celebrate until the sun rose. Then when they got home, they would celebrate with everyone else. There would be so much joy.

He watched through the mirror, as Ziva spoke to Schmiel. Still smiling. Always smiling.

There was so much love. Between them. Surrounding them. It was so gooey and sweet. It made his teeth ache. And, he never wanted it to end.

A/N: I don't own a thing.

There we go. It only took for-bloody-ever. We've got one more chapter in Italy. Then we'll see what happens, when the lovebirds return to Italy. As with everything, the plan I had when I started this, has gone out the window. We do have a few more storylines to wrap up.

Thanks for all the love and support dear readers. Especially, with our reduced schedule. I really don't know how people with real responsibilities, also manage to keep their fic so updated. Kudos to them.