Hey!

Is it too early to be writing festive chapters? if yes... ahhh well!
this one is a little on the short side, but will give resolution to the previous chapter.

enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: i do not own the characters. i am just a writer, who promises to put them back once I've finished with them :)

Chapter 15

The cold icy air hung over the ground, making a mist so cold that the trees and their branches hung in resolution, submitting themselves to the icy air. On the ground people rushed and bustled, desperate to get out of the frosty air, with people pulling scarves and hats from the depths of their wardrobes to shield themselves from the harsh breezes. But the change in the air meant one thing couldn't be denied. It was Christmas time.

Abby loved Christmas. But more specifically, she loved the joy that the holidays brought, the feeling of family, and the day where she could feel that no matter how suckish the world was, there was hope. After all, what was the human race if they did not have hope? For one day people opened up their homes, soup kitchens were filled to the brim with people who had nothing, yet because of the joy of Christmas were warmed with the smiled and laughter emanating from the people who had given up their days to serve others food and drink. Abby never grew tired of the faces, some of them showing their gratitude visibly with a smile on their faces, some of them appearing to be indifferent, but Abby could see in their eyes that this meant something to them. That was the reason that she did it.

She mounted the steps to Tim's apartment, something that was easier said than done when she was trying to carry a box full of decorations so big that she could no longer see her platform clad feet. When she got to his front door she put the box down with an almighty crash, making so much noise that Tim's neighbour who had apparently just returned from a shopping trip gave her the strangest look as she reached her own front door. Abby had never encountered Tim's neighbour to the left, but it was something about Abby combined with the holiday spirit that made her extra cheerful and giving.

"Evening, Ma'am," Abby said cheerfully, the antlers perched on her head bobbing in time to her words. But apparently this sight was too strange for the neighbour to comprehend, so that the only response Abby got was a door slammed in her face. But Abby was in too good a mood to be ruined by some Grinch who wanted to steal Christmas, so in the same cheerful spirit, she knocked on Tim's front door, her face shining with the same childish delight that it had for the past 20 years at this time of the year. The youth had not been bled from Abby, despite the years that had meant so many of her peers lost what they once had in their childhood. Joy. And happiness. In a world full of discontent, people like Abby were pearls in the sand.

"TIMMY! OPEN UP!"

When the door swung open to reveal Tim in sweatpants and an old T-shirt, the movement was so abrupt that Abby's knocks were brought to an untimely halt, as she almost fell through the door and into his arms.

"Woah!" Tim said, catching Abby before she could face plant into his soft carpet. But Abby seemed to be unfazed by her near death experience, and once she was righted, she, like a small gothic jack in a box, she continued.

"HI!"

Tim moved in to greet his girlfriend properly, fully intent on kissing her until she forgot her own name. But before his lips could reach hers, she turned away to bend over and retrieve the box of decorations that she had deposited on his front door.

"Out of my way," Abby ordered. Tim tilted his head quizzically as if contemplating defying her, before deciding that he liked his mortality the way it was, and moving out of the way.

Abby pulled her feet out of her tall platform boots, and her warm fuzzy Christmas socks (complete with complimentary flashing Rudolf nose) hit Tim's thick carpet. It was only when Abby was half way down his hallway when she realised that there was something wrong. Her Timmy wasn't following him. Abby spun on her heel to ask what was wrong, but her words stopped in their tracks. Standing there, only illuminated by the lamp on the table by his desk, Tim's T-shirt was tight around his chest, and his crossed his arms, his biceps tensed. When did her Timmy get so damn hot?

"Where's my hello?" he asked softly, his voice lower than the rest of the world usually heard it. Abby pretended to sigh and turned to put down her box of decorations. When she turned back Tim was right in front of her. Damn, he was fast.

They stood there, so close but not quite touching, their breaths mingling in the air between them.

"Hello?" Abby offered weakly. Tim grinned, as if pitying her innocence, before pulling her in for a kiss.

As his lips met hers, his lips moving hard against hers, Abby grabbed the front of his T-shirt, trying to hold herself up against the onslaught of passion. Her man could kiss. There was no denying that. He possessed her, so powerfully taking her. She didn't realise that he had backed her against the hallway wall until she felt her back solidly, and felt his body hard against hers, and his lips just as demanding. She ran her fingers through his hair as he pulled her closer with a hand on each of her arms. It was messy and passionate. And completely them.

When he withdrew he stared deep into her eyes, the dark clover pools seeming to get even darker and even deeper. As then caught their breath, Abby spoke.

"Well, I hope you don't say hello to everyone like that…"

"You jealous?" Timmy said, and it was in moments like that where Abby knew Tim was spending too much time with DiNozzo. Nothing spoke arrogance (no matter how accurately founded) and overconfidence like that then that kind of cocky sentence, the kind she expected from Tony.

"Well I don't know," Abby said, pretending to think. Then she leant in to whisper in his ear, "would I get to watch?"
Tim groaned at Abby's teasing tone, trying to stop his imagination from running away from him. But he was a writer after all. And writers never did run out of ideas. He tried to keep his body under control; she was here to decorate his apartment, not anything else. They had been taking things slow, but the temptation that he faced when she was around was so great. They were equal parts love and passion, but sometimes Tim forgot why he was holding back. These times often came after kisses like those. But he was a man of old fashioned values, he may not have a code like Gibbs (who despite being a bastard at times was still one of those men, who live by rules, including "hide the women and children first"), but he did want to show Abby that he wasn't just in this relationship to get into her pants.

When Tim eventually let Abby do, she walked back to the box of decorations on trembling legs, and Tim was filled with something of a manly pride. He was the one who had made her knees tremble. He was the one who put that giant hickey on her… oops. She was going to kill him for that. But then again, what a way to go…

It was an oddly domestic scene. Abby and McGee putting up the Christmas decorations, Abby being carried by Tim to put the star on the top of the tree, chasing Jethro around as he stole the tinsel, and proceeded to run away with it. But when they finally landed on the sofa and put on a movie, Timmy put his arm around Abby and she snuggled in. And there was only one thought on his mind. He was finally home.

"Marry me, Tony"

The words had not registered in Tony's mind, but still they had not sunk in. After all he had done, after all that he had said, pushing her away when she needed him the most to fight against her father, he expected her to hit him. Maybe throw a few insults and punches his way. But propose? What was going through her mind to possess her to say that? He could only imagine the emotional turmoil that was going through her mind at that moment. He would not flatter himself that he could read her, but there was something that made him want to know what was in her mind.

He couldn't leave her. That was the only thought that was going through her mind. She had practically told this that he meant nothing to her, but she had to tell him otherwise. She shouldn't have said everything that she had said. She should have told him that there was nothing that she wanted more than him. She never in her life remembered wanting something so badly. But somewhere in the back of her mind, her father's words still imprinted into her mind. Don't trust. Don't rely on anyone. Don't love. And yet in those weeks she had done all of these with Tony. She had never wanted to fall in love with the Special Agent with a charming smile and a kind heart. And yet, fate seemed to have better ideas, and they had been thrust together in a strange twist of fate. They were a mess. She had issues, family shadows and trust issues. He had daddy issues, a messed up childhood and the track record with women so bad it made Gibbs look like the Virgin Mary. Yet they worked. Together.

The pregnant pause was almost too much. Ziva thought Tony was going to bolt, but she did not blame him. She was having similar thoughts herself.

"Isn't that my line?" Tony said at last, his voice low and humourless. But it wasn't his words that terrified her the most. It was the fact for the first time in a long while, he was strictly and deadly serious. This wasn't the same joking Tony who threatened to throw her into a fountain, after which he made the threat a reality, causing them both of them to be thrown out of the park by a disgruntled caretaker. They had run down the street to his apartment, both soaking wet after she pulled him in after him, and laughing. This was the Tony she always remembered. But something had changed.

"Come on, Tony. When have we ever been conventional?" Ziva answered quickly, a ghost of a smile reaching her eyes. Tony smiled softly and lovingly at her, and Ziva was filled with hope. Maybe he wasn't going to push her away.

There was a silence again as the words hung in the space between them.

"Why?"

Tony's question pulled a smile from Ziva. A small sad smile.

"I thought that it would be obvious."
Tony searched her eyes, trying to find something that he didn't ever know he was looking for. But when he found it, it made up his mind. He finally found the answer to the question that Ziva asked him, all that time ago earlier that evening.

"No."

The shock in Ziva's eyes was tangible. She tried to step back, but all Tony did was step forward to keep the gap between then at the same size.

"What I mean," he said, taking another hesitant step in her direction, "is that I want to do this right. I want to take you out for a meal, a picnic in the countryside. You'd be wearing a white dress, and not a drop of makeup. You'd look out and watch the view, and then you'll look back, and I'd be there, on one knee, just like it is in the movies. And your eyes would light up, and you would say a million times yes."

Ziva's eyes were tearing up, as Tony's eyes begged her to see the picture that he was painting in her mind. It was so beautiful, and said with so much reverence that she wished that it was true. Yet she refused to let the tears fall. Tony had clearly thought this scenario through. But he wasn't finished.

"But knowing us, it would be the hottest day of the year, and you'd be angry and sweaty and I'd have packed all of the wrong food that was not so good out of the fridge for extended periods of time."

"You know," her voice cracked, and the rest of the answer came out a whisper, "the answer would be the same."

Tony's smile grew, until his eyes were wet with emotion.

"Ziva David," he said, walking closer, but this time Ziva did not move away, "Marry me?"

And both of them already knew the reply.

"Yes."