Sorry that it took me so long but I was on vacation and had problems uploading stuff.
As they continued to sway to the music, Ziva tilted her head slightly to catch Tony's gaze. "So, what do you think of your new stepmother?" she asked, teasing a little.
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "Please don't call her that," he replied, the amusement still in his voice. "She's so young; it just sounds weird. It's not like I want to picture her as my stepmother."
Ziva laughed softly, the sound mingling with the melody that surrounded them. "You know, it's not uncommon for people to have different opinions about their stepparents."
"I know that, but after everything—this is like the fifth time for my dad," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "It's just... complicated. I guess I'm still getting used to the idea. I mean, she looks like she could be dating one of my cousins."
Ziva nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It must be a strange dynamic for you. But she seems nice."
"Yeah, she's nice. Everyone seems happy, which is what matters," he said, his tone shifting slightly as he considered the implications of the day's events. "But you know how it is, Ziva. With my family, it's like a circus. I'm just glad you're here to witness it all."
She smiled up at him, the warm glow of the dance floor highlighting the shared moments between them. "You think your father will stay married this time?"
Tony paused, contemplating the question. "I hope so. He seems genuinely happy. I think he finally realized what he wanted, you know? But, with my dad, you can never be too sure."
Ziva leaned in closer, her voice softening. "He might surprise you. People change."
"Yeah, maybe," Tony said, then added with a grin, "But I'm not holding my breath. I mean, he was married to my mother, then there were a few others… It's just, well, he's always been a bit of a romantic. Not exactly the ideal role model."
"Are you worried?" Ziva asked, concern creeping into her tone.
"Not really," Tony replied, shrugging. "I mean, I want him to be happy. He deserves that, even if it means I have to accept a new face at family dinners."
The music continued to play, and they lost themselves in each other's presence again. As the beat slowed, Tony leaned in slightly, teasingly lowering his voice. "You know, I've got this thing I say about my fathers' weddings. If it lasts longer than the wedding cake, it's a success!"
Ziva chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You really do have a way with words, DiNozzo."
He grinned at her, unable to resist the warmth of the moment. "Well, what can I say? Former basketball player, cop, detective, now master of ceremonies. I wear many hats."
"Just don't wear them all at once," she quipped, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Touché," he said, and as the dance continued, they fell deeper into their shared rhythm, feeling as if the world around them had faded away—just the two of them, the music, and the connection that had grown over time.
Tony leaned closer, his smile playful. "Just remember, Ziva, if I get pulled into this crazy family drama, I'm dragging you down with me."
"Is that a threat?" Ziva replied, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile.
"More like a promise," he shot back, twirling her effortlessly before pulling her closer again, laughter in his voice as they danced, magnets in a world made just for them.
As the final notes of the song faded into applause, Tony and Ziva stepped back from the dance floor, still wrapped in the warmth of their shared moment. They settled into their seats at the table, Ziva glowing from the dance and Tony unable to wipe the smile off his face.
"I can't believe how quickly you managed to steal the spotlight from me on the dance floor," he joked, taking a sip of his drink.
Ziva laughed, shaking her head. "You may have some moves, but I think my years of training make me a better partner."
"Fair point," Tony admitted with a grin. "Still, I'll always be the one leading the dance."
They continued to chat about the festivities, the conversation flowing easily as they reminisced about old cases, their families, and the unique blend of emotions surrounding the day.
Just then, Senior joined them, his face beaming with a mixture of joy and contentment. "You two look like you're having a great time," he remarked, settling into a chair beside Tony. Tony raised his glass in a mock toast. "To the newlyweds and their fantastic friends."
"Cheers to that!" Ziva chimed in, clinking her glass against Seniors and Tonys.
"So, how did you like that last dance?" Senior asked, glancing between the two of them with a knowing smile.
"It was beautiful," Ziva replied sincerely. "You both looked so happy."
"Yeah, Dad, you looked like you were having the time of your life," Tony teased, nudging him playfully. "I think I might need to give you some pointers on how to keep your cool."
Senior chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll understand one day, Anthony. Love has a way of making even the toughest of us feel like we're floating on air."
Tony rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the fondness in his expression. "Yeah, well, don't get too used to it. I'm still the tough guy in this family."
Ziva smirked, leaning in slightly. "You seem to handle weddings pretty well, though."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Only because it's not my wedding, right?"
As they continued their lighthearted banter, Senior observed the dynamic between them, feeling a swell of pride and warmth. He couldn't help but think about how Tony had changed since Ziva entered his life. "You know, Ziva," he began, "it's been wonderful seeing how happy Tony is when he's with you. I can't tell you how much that means to me."
Ziva smiled, her expression softening. "He's a good friend."
"Yeah," Tony added, leaning back in his chair. "Just a good friend."
Ziva raised her glass slightly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "To friends, then."
Senior laughed heartily at that, shaking his head. "You two are quite the pair. I don't know whether to be concerned or amused."
"Just wait until we get into our next case together," Tony joked. "You'll see the full range of our teamwork."
"Or the chaos," Ziva interjected with a playful glint in her eye.
As they sipped their drinks and continued to chat, the warmth of family and friendship enveloped them, a perfect backdrop to the day's celebrations and the memories yet to come.
As the festivities continued around them, Senior and his new wife found a quiet corner of the hall, stealing a moment away from the celebration. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, how long have your son and Ziva been together?"
Senior chuckled softly, shaking his head. "They're not actually together. They're just friends."
His wife raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. "Oh, come on. Who are they kidding? There's definitely something there."
"Trust me," Senior replied, leaning in slightly, "they're both just too stubborn to admit how they really feel about each other."
"Really?" She looked intrigued. "You can see it in the way they interact. It's like they're in their own world."
"Exactly," Senior said, a grin spreading across his face. "They have this chemistry, but they both act like it doesn't exist. They keep telling themselves they're just partners, just friends. But I see through it."
His wife nodded knowingly. "It must be frustrating for you, watching them dance around their feelings."
"More than you know," Senior admitted with a chuckle. "I just wish they'd get it over with. It's clear to anyone else that they belong together."
"Maybe they just need a little push," she suggested, glancing back at the pair, who were still engaged in their lively conversation. "A little nudge in the right direction."
"I hope so," Senior said, his gaze softening as he watched Tony and Ziva share a laugh. "I'd love to see Tony settle down with someone who makes him happy. Ziva's a fighter; she'd keep him on his toes."
His wife smiled warmly. "And that's just what he needs. Sometimes the best relationships come from the strongest friendships."
"Exactly," Senior replied, feeling hopeful. "I just wish they'd see what everyone else can."
They continued to watch Tony and Ziva, lost in their own world, and Senior couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of what might come next for them.
As the tempo of the music picked up, the atmosphere in the hall shifted, electrifying the crowd. The pop and rock beats filled the air, prompting guests to rise from their seats and make their way to the dance floor. Tony and Ziva exchanged glances, both grinning widely, and without hesitation, they joined the throng of dancers, laughter spilling from their lips.
The energy was infectious as they moved in sync, their bodies swaying to the rhythm. Tony's playful nature shone through as he pulled Ziva closer, spinning her around before breaking into a goofy dance that made her laugh even harder.
"Seriously, Tony? This is your best move?" Ziva teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she playfully mimicked his exaggerated motions.
"Hey, it's called improvisation!" he shot back with a grin, dramatically throwing his arms into the air. "You have to keep the crowd entertained!"
Ziva rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her laughter. "You're definitely entertaining," she admitted, shaking her head. "Just not in the way you think."
As the beat intensified, they found themselves lost in the moment, the world around them fading away. They twirled and jumped, their laughter mingling with the music, the playful banter continuing between them.
"You know," Tony said, leaning closer so she could hear him over the upbeat track, "I'm starting to think we make a pretty good team on the dance floor."
Ziva smirked, stepping back and challenging him with a raised eyebrow. "What, are you trying to recruit me for your dance squad now?"
"Absolutely! We'll be unstoppable," he exclaimed, launching into an impromptu spin that nearly caused him to lose his balance. "Well, mostly unstoppable."
She giggled, shaking her head at his antics. "I think you might need some practice first."
"Hey, it's a work in progress!" he replied, feigning offense. "But I think you could use a little more of the DiNozzo charm to keep up with my moves."
Ziva smirked and moved in closer again, her expression playful. "Charming? Is that what you call it?"
"Of course! Charm is my middle name," he said, puffing out his chest dramatically.
Ziva raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Really? I thought it was 'D...'"
Before she could finish, Tony quickly raised a hand, cutting her off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need to finish that thought, Ziva. I'm sure we can find a more flattering nickname," he said, his tone half-serious, half-playful.
Ziva laughed, the sound bright and full of mischief. "What? You're not proud of it? It's a classic Italian name!"
"Yeah, well, I have a reputation to uphold here," he shot back, grinning as he tried to reclaim his dignity. "And besides, it isn't exactly what I'd call charming."
"Maybe not, but it is certainly... memorable," Ziva replied, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Tony feigned exasperation, dramatically rolling his eyes. "You know, I really thought we were having a moment here. But now I see you're just here to roast me!"
"Roast? No, I'm merely providing constructive criticism," she said, a playful lilt in her voice.
"Constructive? More like you're trying to destroy my self-esteem!" he replied, laughter bubbling between them.
"Don't worry, Tony, I'll leave your charm intact," she reassured him, her smile warm and teasing.
With that, they dove back into their playful banter, the music washing over them as they danced, forgetting the world around them and reveling in each other's company.
After a while on the dance floor, Tony sauntered over to the bar, ordering a martini for himself and a mojito for Ziva. He returned, drink in hand, and with a flourish, handed her the mojito.
"Here you go, one mojito, just like you like it," he said, grinning.
As Ziva accepted the drink, she glanced at his martini and smirked. "Let me guess, shaken, not stirred?"
"Wow, Ziva, I'm impressed! You know your Bond," Tony replied, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.
"I don't know Bond, but I know you, Tony," she shot back, a hint of teasing in her voice.
"You know what, Zee-vah? I actually look like Bond right now," he declared, striking a pose. "In fact, I feel like Bond. 'I'll have a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.' Just like this," he said, raising his glass with a dramatic flair.
Ziva raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "You know, if you keep quoting Bond, I might start to think you really believe you are him."
"Why not? I have the suit, the charm, and the drink. What more do I need?" he asked, taking a sip.
Ziva rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in playful defiance. "Not this again, Tony. I thought we already talked about that. I would definitely be Bond. I'm the former spy, not you."
"Ah, but who has the suave charm and killer looks?" he countered, leaning in closer with a cheeky smile. "I think you underestimate the power of the DiNozzo charm, Ziva."
"I think you overestimate it," she replied, her lips curving into a smile. "But I'll give you points for confidence."
"Confidence is key in any spy mission, remember that," he said, raising his glass in a mock toast.
"Or in dancing with a partner who refuses to accept reality," she quipped, clinking her glass against his.
"Touché," he admitted, and they both laughed, the easy banter flowing between them like the drinks in their hands, adding to the joyful atmosphere of the wedding celebration.
As the DJ announced that it was time for the last song of the night, the upbeat chatter in the hall began to fade, replaced by the soft melody that filled the air. Tony turned to Ziva, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "One last dance, Ziva?" he asked, extending his hand to her.
She nodded, a smile spreading across her face, and took his hand. They made their way to the center of the dance floor, where the music swelled into "I'm Glad There Is You." The slow rhythm enveloped them, and as they began to sway, it felt as if the world around them had melted away.
They moved in perfect synchrony, each step and turn drawing them closer together. Their gazes locked, and the atmosphere thickened with unspoken words and shared memories. The warmth of their bodies mingled as they swayed, lost in the intimacy of the moment.
Tony's hand settled at the small of Ziva's back, his other hand gently clasping hers as he pulled her in slightly. Ziva's breath caught in her throat, the electricity between them crackling like an invisible thread. As the music continued to play, they inched even closer, their lips almost brushing against each other, the moment stretched thin with anticipation.
Just as the song reached its gentle crescendo, the DJ's voice cut through the enchanting spell. "And that was the last song of the night. Thank you all for joining us. Goodbye!"
Reality rushed back in, and they snapped out of their moment. Both took a step apart, the air between them suddenly feeling charged yet distant. Tony cleared his throat, the playful charm returning to his expression as he tried to mask the moment's weight. "Well, that was… nice," he said, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
Ziva, still slightly breathless, nodded. "Yes, very nice," she replied, her heart racing as she adjusted the cuff of her dress, avoiding his gaze for a moment. The lightness of their earlier banter began to return, but the lingering closeness of their dance hung in the air, a reminder of the tension they both felt.
Tony stood at the sink, staring at his reflection in the dim light of the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of the dance, the lingering sensation of Ziva's body against his. "Get it together, DiNozzo," he whispered to himself, the sound of the water echoing in the small room.
He took a deep breath, leaning against the cool porcelain. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—his father's wedding, the laughter, the dancing. But all he could think about was Ziva. She had looked stunning in that dress, the way it hugged her curves and flowed around her as she moved. The image of her smiling up at him, those curls bouncing with every step, was burned into his mind.
Dancing with her had felt like magic. It was just the two of them, lost in a world that felt far too perfect. But then reality crashed back in, reminding him of the chasm that still lay between them. Why couldn't he just tell her how he felt? After all they had been through together, how could he still be so paralyzed by fear?
He splashed more water on his face, hoping to wash away the self-doubt and hesitation that clung to him like a shadow. What was he afraid of? Rejection? Change? Maybe it was the fear of ruining what they already had—a partnership built on trust and camaraderie that felt too fragile to risk.
But watching her tonight, the way she lit up the room, how she had laughed and teased him, had pulled at something deep within him. He could feel the connection— the chemistry crackling like electricity in the air. It was undeniable. Every moment they spent together only made the feelings stronger, more urgent.
Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're a coward, DiNozzo," he chastised himself softly, looking back at his reflection. You have to say something. But how? He couldn't just drop it on her out of the blue. And what if she didn't feel the same way? What if she laughed it off, brushed it aside?
He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Tonight had been a chance, a perfect moment to say it, to make things clear—but instead, he had danced around the truth, letting it slip through his fingers like sand.
As he finally turned off the faucet, Tony took one last look at himself in the mirror. He had to figure this out. He couldn't keep hiding, waiting for the right moment that might never come. Ziva deserved more than that. He had to be brave enough to risk it all, to confront his feelings head-on.
With one last deep breath, he straightened his shirt and headed back to the celebration, determined to find her again. It was time to stop being the coward and start being the man she deserved.
Ziva stood in the bathroom, her heart racing as she leaned against the cool sink, staring at her reflection. The soft hum of the wedding reception filtered through the door, but all she could focus on was the dance with Tony. The way he looked at her, the warmth of his hand on her back, had made her pulse quicken in a way she hadn't expected.
She splashed some water on her face, hoping to cool the heat that had spread through her cheeks. "Get it together, Ziva," she murmured to herself, shaking her head. What was she doing? Why was she letting a simple dance throw her into such a disarray?
Tonight had been a whirlwind—the laughter, the dancing, the joy of celebrating Tony's father's marriage. But somewhere in the midst of it all, she had found herself lost in Tony's presence. He had been charming and playful, and when he had pulled her close on the dance floor, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
That moment had been electric. The way he held her, the way they swayed to the music, it felt like everything was right, like maybe—just maybe—there was something more beneath their friendship. But the thought sent a wave of confusion crashing over her. Could she really entertain the idea of taking that step?
Ziva sighed, looking down at her reflection. She had spent so much time building walls around her heart, convinced that emotions were a distraction, a weakness. But with Tony, it was different. He made her laugh, challenged her, and understood her in ways that few others did. He saw her, truly saw her, and that terrified her.
The dress she wore felt heavy, not just in fabric but in expectation. She had caught the admiration in his eyes, the way he dropped his bowtie in shock when she walked out of the bathroom. It was intoxicating, and she couldn't help but smile at the memory. But there was also fear—fear of vulnerability, fear of what it would mean for their dynamic.
What if she told him how she felt, only to be met with uncertainty or rejection? The idea made her stomach twist. Tony had been her partner, her confidant, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing that. But the connection was undeniable, and the longer they danced around it, the harder it became to ignore.
Ziva glanced at her phone, considering how long she had been in here. She needed to go back out there, to face the celebration, but all she could think about was Tony—his laughter, the way he moved, the way he seemed to light up whenever they were together.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened up, her resolve hardening. She wouldn't run from this anymore. Whatever it was between them, she needed to confront it. It was time to stop pretending that her feelings didn't matter.
With one last look in the mirror, she adjusted her hair and stepped out of the bathroom, determined to find Tony. No more games, no more hiding. She would figure this out, together with him, no matter how daunting it felt.
As Ziva stepped back into the reception hall, the lively chatter and music enveloped her, but her mind was still racing with her thoughts. The moment she had shared with Tony on the dance floor replayed in her head like a haunting melody. Their chemistry was undeniable, but just as quickly as the warmth filled her, a familiar chill followed.
She moved through the crowd, her heart still pounding from the intimate moments they had shared. But then a wave of insecurity crashed over her. How could she even think about exploring something deeper with Tony? Did he truly understand the weight of her past?
The memories of Somalia loomed large in her mind, a shadow that followed her wherever she went. Two years had passed since that nightmare, yet it felt like only yesterday. The trauma had left scars that she wasn't sure anyone could see, but she could feel them all too clearly. The guilt, the fear, the haunting echoes of that place—it was a part of her that she had never fully accepted.
Ziva had built her life around her skills, her strength, and the fierce independence she clung to, but deep down, she feared that she was damaged goods. What if Tony saw her past as a burden? What if the weight of it became too much for him to bear? The idea made her stomach twist.
Talking about Somalia was a taboo topic, a Pandora's box she had never dared to open. She had spent so long avoiding it, convincing herself that she could keep moving forward without addressing the hurt. Only Tony knew bits and pieces from their time in Paris, but even then, she had held back, glossing over the worst parts, the most painful memories.
She remembered the way he had looked at her when she finally shared a fragment of her story, the way his eyes had softened with understanding and concern. But that had been different—brief, fleeting. To tell him everything? To bare her soul, to show him the vulnerable, fractured parts of herself? That felt like asking him to take on a burden he had never signed up for.
She was terrified that he would pull away, that he would see her for what she truly was—a survivor, yes, but also someone who had been broken, who was still piecing herself back together. Ziva shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that clouded her mind.
As she made her way back to the table where Tony was sitting, a voice in her head warned her that he would never look at her the same way again if he knew everything. What if he found her past unforgivable? The very thought made her heart race in a different way—panic replacing hope.
But then she remembered the way he had treated her with kindness, the way he had been patient with her, and she felt a flicker of courage igniting within her. Perhaps he wouldn't judge her as harshly as she feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could see beyond the shadows of her past and appreciate the woman she had become.
Taking a deep breath, Ziva straightened her shoulders. If she wanted to move forward, she needed to confront her fears. She couldn't hide from her past forever, and perhaps it was time to let someone in, to share her truth with Tony.
As she approached him, she felt a wave of determination wash over her. No more running, no more pretending. If there was a chance for something more between them, she owed it to herself—and to him—to be honest about who she was.