A/N: I know Christmas is almost over. I had a hard few weeks and wasn't really able to bend my mind to writing, but I had a story I had started writing at the beginning of the month. Today, I had some time to myself and I decided to finish this off. It's just a oneshot set in my CIA series. It takes place right after the end of CIA VI where Tim and Zahara got married. This is taking place only a few weeks after their wedding.

Disclaimer: I do not own the NCIS characters, but I do claim my OC. I'm not making any money off this anyway.

CIA VI Sidenote: A Moroccan Christmas

Tim glanced at his calendar and suddenly realized that it was already December. With the chaos of the wedding, the honeymoon and figuring out how to live as a married couple, along with all the other things that made up his life, the upcoming holiday had almost passed him by. Tim had always loved the Christmas season, but now, he wondered if this would have to change. Would Zahara want to celebrate Christmas? Even if she did, would she want all the American trappings of the season? How should he broach the subject? Should he?

"McGee!"

Tim jumped and looked up.

"What?"

"I asked you if you had any response yet from the request for phone records."

"Oh... uh..." Tim brought up his messages. "No, not yet."

"What were you thinking about? Or do I know already?" Tony asked, leering suggestively.

"Please, Tony. Don't start. I don't need you to ask about my marriage every day," Tim said, blushing a little bit.

"I don't, but I could if you want."

"No!" Tim said, very emphatically. "And nothing on the phone records yet."

"Uh-huh," Tony said, grinning.

"You did seem distracted, Tim," Ziva said, smiling a little herself.

"You all should be working," Gibbs said as he walked in. He gave them all a glare.

Relieved, Tim turned his attention to his computer again and tried to focus. Throughout the day, he tried to keep his mind on work and determinedly avoided any questions Tony might have about the source of his distraction. He did not want advice from his coworkers about marriage. At the end of the day, he left and headed home. This was the evening that Zahara had a late class at the dance studio and she left him dinner in the fridge.

As he stepped inside, Jethro ran over and began jumping on him excitedly.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Tim said, fending him off. "Calm down! Let me get my clothes changed and we'll go out, but you need to let me walk."

Quickly, Tim went into the bedroom and changed his clothes. Then, he took his dog out for a quick walk/run. By the time Jethro deigned to be taken home again, Tim was feeling more than a little hungry. He urged his dog to get a move on and they reached his building in good time. He glanced around as he went inside and saw his guards on duty as always. He took a breath and walked to the elevator. He rode up to his floor and then went into the apartment. As he did, he looked around the space. Not a single decoration was up. He didn't like that. There had been some years when he hadn't been in the mental state to care about anything, but he was now and he really wanted some Christmas cheer.

...but would Zahara like it?

He'd have to ask her, but he didn't want to make her feel obligated to do something that she didn't want. She had very strong opinions on some things and shared them but on others, she seemed worried about giving her thoughts.

He fed Jethro and then got his own dinner warmed up. As he ate, he looked up Christmas in Morocco. There was pretty much nothing which wasn't really a surprise. It was an official holiday in Melilla since it was part of Spain, but with her family being both Christian and Muslim, what would she want? Did Muslims celebrate it? Unlikely. A quick search confirmed his thought. They had holidays that occurred near the same time, but they were not Christmas.

He really wanted to have Christmas, but it wasn't just him anymore.

When Zahara got home, he found himself unsure about asking her so he said nothing. If Zahara noticed, she didn't mention it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

One week later...

It had been an extremely long day and Tim had spent the whole time staring at his computer screen. Gibbs was determined to have them finish up their paperwork before they were allowed to leave.

The problem was that paperwork had mounted over the last few weeks and been pushed to the side. It could no longer be pushed to the side.

"Done yet, McGee?" Tony asked.

"No. You?" Tim asked, not looking up.

"Almost. Ziva?"

"Soon," Ziva said.

The elevator dinged and revealed Abby.

"What are you all still doing here?" she demanded.

"Working, Abbs," Tony said. "What does it look like?"

"You should be done!"

"They're working, Abby. Leave them alone," Gibbs said as he walked in.

"But Gibbs!"

"Abby, leave them alone. When they're done they can leave," Gibbs said.

Abby sighed.

"Fine."

"Do not wait for us," Ziva said. "We will not be done for a while."

"And I'm brain-dead," Tim mumbled.

"Tomorrow, Abby," Tony said.

Then, they all got back to work as Abby pouted her way out of the bullpen.

After another hour, they were finally caught up and Gibbs let them go. Tim hadn't felt so little Christmas spirit in quite a while. He was just tired. Not even the decorated tree by the window lifted his spirits.

"Want to get a drink to decompress?" Tony asked.

Tim shook his head. "No, thanks. I just want to go home and sleep...after eating something."

Ziva smiled.

"Well, at least we are done."

"For now. There's always more paperwork," Tony said.

"But for now, we are done," she said again.

Tim smiled as well and then got into his car. He quickly texted Zahara to let her know he was on his way and then started home. As he drove, he felt tired and he remembered again that he hadn't done anything about Christmas and the idea of going home to a house devoid of Christmas two weeks into December was a little depressing. Oh, well. Zahara would be there and that would be enough. He still savored the blessing of actually being able to have a family of his own and that should be enough of a gift this year.

By the time he got home, he'd pretty much convinced himself that he'd just skip Christmas this year and figure something out for next year.

He went up to the apartment and unlocked the door.

...and then stood and stared in shock.

"Mufāja'atun!" Zahara said, smiling.

"Uh...what?" Tim asked. That was not an Arabic word he'd heard before.

"Surprise!"

"Surprise?" he asked.

Somehow, in the time he'd been gone to work, the entire apartment had transformed. It was like stepping into Christmas. There was a tree with twinkling lights on it but no decorations. A nativity scene had replaced the usual books on the coffee table. There was garland around the door to the balcony and lights in the windows.

"I asked your mother and she said you have always liked Christmas and so I got decorations, but Naomi said you liked to decorate the tree so I thought that we could do that together."

Tim was still standing in the doorway, and Zahara's smile faded a little.

"Was this wrong, Tim?" she asked.

"No!" Tim said, quickly, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "No! I... I've been wondering if you wanted to do anything with Christmas or if this would be something you didn't want, but... I wasn't sure how to ask. I didn't want you to feel like you had to if this wasn't something you wanted. I know that Christmas isn't celebrated in Morocco and so..."

Zahara smiled again and walked over to him. She took his hand and pulled him over to the tree.

"I am happy to do this with you, Tim," she said. "We did not have trees in Melilla and I do not know all your traditions, but we love to celebrate in Morocco. I found decorations that I think you will like. They were a little expensive, but Naomi said that it would be part of their Christmas gift to us. Come and see."

Finally, Tim let himself start to relax and smile. First, he took off his badget and gun and put his bag away. Then, he joined Zahara at the tree. He knelt down beside a box on the floor and opened it.

"You are right that Morocco does not celebrate Christmas, but I found these balls and things. Some are from Egypt. Ahmed sent them to me. He knows people who make them."

"They're beautiful. I hope I don't drop any," Tim said, picking one up. It was a delicate blown-glass ball with intricate designs all around it.

"This is much easier than carrying a tray on your head," Zahara said, with a grin.

Tim laughed at the reference to her one attempt to teach Tim to do the dance she had done the first night they'd seen each other.

"I hope so," he said.

Zahara opened another box and showed him some other ornaments, all in delicate shades of blue. It wasn't quite the deep blue that had so captivated Tim in Marrakesh, but it was still blue.

"They're really nice."

"Yes. I am sure you are hungry, though. We should eat first and then put these on the tree."

"Sounds good to me."

They got up and went to the kitchen. Zahara had made couscous with vegetables and it was delicious as most of her dishes were. After they finished, they cleaned up the kitchen together and then returned to the tree.

"Do you mind if we listen to some Christmas music while we decorate?" Tim asked.

"No. I do not know any American Christmas songs. I would like to hear them."

Tim got online and found a Christmas playlist and set it going.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
Jack Frost nipping at your nose..."

Zahara laughed.

"This is a Christmas song?"

"Yeah. If you listen to all the words, there's a lot more Christmas than you might think."

Zahara nodded and they started to put the ornaments on the tree. As they did, Tim found himself humming along with the song and when it got to the end, he actually started singing.

"And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although it's been said many times, many ways
Merry Christmas to you."

"That is a lovely song," Zahara said. "I did not know that you sang."

Tim blushed a little. "I don't really. Nothing like you. But everyone sings along with Christmas songs. Doesn't matter if it sounds good or not."

"It sounds good, Tim. You sing well."

Tim shrugged. "Thanks."

They went back to decorating and Tim would sing softly with all the songs as they came up. Zahara didn't know any of them, but she would hum along as she figured out the melody. The playlist had a mix of religious and secular songs and Tim knew them all. Some were silly, some were more somber, but they were all Christmas and Tim loved it.

When all the ornaments were on the tree, he stepped back and looked at it.

"It's great, Zahara."

"There is one thing missing," she said and turned away to another small box and opened it. Inside was a tree topper. It wasn't a star which was what Tim had always had on top of the tree. It was blown glass.

"Wow."

"It is a bubble topper, I think," Zahara said. "I found it at a Christmas market. Michelle told me about it and I went while you were at work. There was a stand selling ornaments and tree toppers. This one matched the other things." She held it out. "Put it on the tree."

"I hope I don't drop it," Tim said. He took the topper and carefully reached up and put it on the top, making sure it was securely in place before letting it go and stepping back.

"There. That is perfect," Zahara said.

"Thank you," Tim said.

"I am happy to do this for you, and now we will have a place to put gifts."

"Perfect," Tim said.

He kissed Zahara and then they turned out all the lights, except for the lights on the tree and in the windows. With the music still playing, they settled down on the couch. For a while, they just sat and looked at the tree without speaking. Somehow, even though nothing was Moroccan, Tim felt as though Zahara had created a look that evoked Morocco. It was lovely and a way to bring them together. Her exotic (to him) styles and his American traditions.

"What else is traditional for Christmas?" Zahara asked quietly.

"Opening gifts on Christmas morning, a big dinner on Christmas day."

"What do you have at this dinner?"

"That depends on the family. Some people do ham. Some do turkey. Have you ever had either?"

"No. I would... prefer not ham. We never had pork in my family."

"Oh. Right. No pork in Islam. Do you want to do turkey or would you like to do something from Morocco?"

"We will have turkey, but I will add something to it that will remind me of Morocco."

"That's a great idea."

"Are you sure?" Zahara asked.

Tim sat up and faced her. He took her hand and rubbed his fingers over the ring she wore.

"Zahara, this is our family. Not just mine. We're coming together from far apart, culture-wise. I want this to be a good experience for you. And I love the idea of finding ways to bring our experiences together. Look at the tree. Putting up the tree is a western tradition, but you've made it into something that can remind us of Morocco as well. That's what we need to do. I love eating what you make. And I have to admit that Moroccan turkey sounds intriguing."

"What does that mean?"

"Interesting and I want to try it."

Zahara smiled.

"Good. I will figure it out."

"Later. For now... let's get to bed," Tim said. He stood and pulled Zahara to her feet as another Christmas song began. He knew this one and he pulled Zahara into his arms and, although he felt a little bit self-conscious about it, he started to sing softly along with Bing Crosby.

"I'll be home for Christmas.
You can plan on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents by the tree.

"Christmas Eve will find me
Where the lovelight gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams."

Then, he turned off the music. They turned off the Christmas lights and went to bed.

It was just what Tim had wanted: sharing the joy of the Christmas holiday with his wife. He didn't need anything else.

FINIS!