Ziva woke up at her usual 5 a.m. and smiled as she realized that Tony's arm was draped over her stomach, his breathing even and peaceful as he snuggled deeper into the covers. Carefully, she lifted his arm, freeing herself without waking him, and slipped out of bed. She glanced back, watching him settle even further into the blankets, a small grin tugging at her lips before she grabbed her running clothes and quietly left the room.

Once dressed, she headed out for her run, relishing the cool morning air as she took off at a steady pace. The nearby park was quiet and peaceful, with only the occasional bird call breaking the silence. She felt her muscles warming as she moved, her breathing falling into a natural rhythm. This was her time to let her thoughts drift—to process everything that had happened with Tony's family and to just be present, pushing herself forward with each step.

Returning from her run, she stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen for some water. She was a bit surprised to see Tony's father, Senior, already there, reading the morning paper.

"Good morning," she greeted him with a nod as she opened a bottle of water.

Senior looked up, smiling. "Good morning, Ziva. Out for a run, I take it?"

"Yes," she said, taking a sip. "It's a habit of mine."

He chuckled, setting down his cup. "Well, I think it's admirable. Tony never could manage to get himself up that early for anything less than an emergency."

Ziva grinned, glancing toward the stairs. "Yes, that sounds like him."

As if on cue, Tony shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep, heading directly to the coffee pot. With a mumbled "morning" to them both, he poured himself a cup, eyes barely open as he took his first sip.

"Did the couch treat you that badly?" Senior asked, clearly amused.

Tony just gave a shrug, too groggy to respond, and focused on his coffee. Ziva watched, smirking slightly, as Tony finally began to wake up.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," she said, heading toward the stairs, leaving father and son alone for a moment.

As Ziva headed upstairs, Senior looked over at Tony with a knowing smile. "So, how's the back, son? That couch can't be the most comfortable place to sleep."

Tony took another long sip of his coffee, shrugging slightly. "It's not that bad," he replied, playing along. "Maybe a little stiff, but nothing I can't handle. Besides, it's better than risking Ziva kicking me out halfway through the night if I tried to share the bed."

Senior laughed, nodding. "She's definitely got that fire in her," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I always thought you'd need someone who wouldn't let you get away with too much."

Tony gave him a wary look, knowing where his dad's mind was headed. "We're partners, Dad. That's all," he said with a smile, but his tone was firm.

Senior raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying," he chuckled. "But it's nice to see you with someone who keeps you on your toes. I hope you're smart enough to keep her around."

Tony softened a little, looking back at the empty stairway Ziva had gone up. "She's one of a kind," he agreed quietly, before glancing back to his dad. "But trust me, Dad, we're good just as we are."

"Just as you are, huh?" Senior said with a smirk. "If you say so, Tony."

Tony set about preparing breakfast, cracking eggs into a bowl and chopping up fresh vegetables. As he worked, his dad leaned back at the table, watching him with mild interest.

"You on a health kick or something, cutting up all those veggies?" Senior asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Tony smirked. "Nah, not me. Most of these are for Ziva. I take the bacon, she takes the veggies. Balance, you know?"

Senior chuckled, shaking his head. "A balance of opposites. Sounds about right."

They continued chatting casually as Tony moved between the stove and the countertop, flipping bacon and sautéing vegetables. He made extra eggs, pancakes, and plenty of bacon, filling the kitchen with the inviting scent.

As he was finishing up, Ziva walked in, freshly showered and ready for the day. She poured herself a cup of coffee, her gaze drifting to the spread Tony was preparing.

"Smells delicious," she commented with a smile, taking a sip of coffee.

"Only the best," Tony replied, giving her a quick grin before plating the food and setting it out on the table.

The three of them sat down, and for a while, there was only the quiet clink of cutlery and the low hum of contented conversation. Senior occasionally glanced between Tony and Ziva, his face thoughtful, as if he were watching a dynamic he was starting to enjoy.

As they sat down to breakfast, Senior turned to Ziva with a curious look. "So, you guys finally wrapped up that case you were working on when Junior here was ignoring my calls?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, we did. It took a while, but we were able to solve it."

Senior raised an eyebrow at Tony. "And what was so pressing during this case that you couldn't spare a moment for your old man?"

Tony fidgeted, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Well...that's not the easiest thing to explain," he said, glancing over at Ziva. "Maybe Ziva should fill you in."

Senior's gaze shifted to Ziva, clearly intrigued. She sighed, then began, "When I was twelve, my little sister died. My mother left us shortly afterward, and when I was sixteen, I was told she had died as well."

"Oh dear," Senior interrupted, clearly taken aback. "I'm so sorry."

Ziva continued, her voice steady. "Thank you. But, as it turns out, my mother faked her death to protect my younger sister, Tali. She didn't want her to be caught up in the same world my father had raised me in."

Senior looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and admiration. "That must have been a shock. But...have you made amends with them?"

Ziva nodded, a gentle smile forming. "Yes, we've reconnected. It took some time, but I've accepted my mother's reasons, and now we stay in touch."

Senior smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear that." He paused for a moment, thoughtful, before turning back to Tony.

"Well," Tony chimed in, "Ziva left out a key part of the story. She got shot—"

Ziva quickly interrupted, "It wasn't that bad, Tony."

"Not that bad, Zi?" Tony looked at her in disbelief. "From where I was standing, it sure looked like half your blood was on my hands."

Ziva waved off his concerns. "You're exaggerating, Tony."

Senior looked at her, concerned. "Are you alright now, Ziva?"

"Of course I am," she replied calmly, offering him a reassuring smile. "But thank you for asking."

Tony rolled his eyes, leaning back. "She'd say she was fine even if she'd lost an arm."

"Tony," Ziva said, exasperatedly rolling her eyes.

"What? It's true!" Tony grinned. "Must be those ninja genes of yours."

Ziva shot him a playful glare. "Your son is totally exaggerating, Anthony."

Senior laughed, watching the two of them with amusement. "Are you two always like this?"

"Like what?" Tony asked, feigning innocence.

"Like an old married couple," Senior said with a smile. "You remind me so much of your grandparents. They had that same spark—always bickering but never really disagreeing."

Tony shrugged with a grin. "It's just how we solve crimes, Dad." Then he added, with a smirk, "You know, like Mulder and Scully, only with better hair."

Ziva laughed, shaking her head. "Mulder and Scully, really?"

"Hey, it's a compliment, Ziva. High praise," Tony insisted, his grin widening.

Ziva gave him a playful glare. "And here I thought we were more of a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid partnership."

"Ah, there's that ninja humor," Tony teased, rolling his eyes.

Senior grinned at the two of them. "Well, if that's how you two work best, I'd say you're quite the dynamic duo. Ziva, you keep him in line?"

Ziva's smile turned mischievous. "I try, but as you can see, Tony has his own ideas."

Tony shrugged, not even trying to deny it. "Takes more than a partner to rein in all this charm," he quipped, gesturing to himself with a grin.

With a warm chuckle, Senior watched them banter, clearly delighted. For the rest of breakfast, the three of them relaxed in each other's company, with Tony's quick humor and Ziva's dry retorts filling the room with an easy, familiar energy.

Senior chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a twinkle in his eye. "I can tell you, Ziva, Tony has always been like this. I remember when he was about eleven, he..."

"Dad," Tony interrupted, a slight edge of panic in his voice as he shot his father a warning look, "don't you even think about it."

But Senior only grinned wider, thoroughly enjoying his son's discomfort. "Oh, come on, Tony! It's not every day I get to share some of these gems. Besides, Ziva deserves to know who she's really dealing with here."

Ziva leaned forward, clearly entertained. "Actually, I'd like to hear this," she said, giving Tony a mischievous smile.

Tony held up his hands, looking between the two of them. "Oh, come on. Aren't there some things that are better left in the past?"

But Senior went on, undeterred. "As I was saying, when Tony was eleven, he convinced his entire class that he was related to the Kennedys."

Ziva's eyes sparkled with laughter as she looked over at Tony, who was now burying his face in his hands.

"Dad!" Tony groaned, but it was too late.

"Yep," Senior continued, chuckling. "Even went as far as signing his school papers 'Anthony Kennedy DiNozzo' for about a month. Had the teachers, other parents, everyone believing it until they finally called me in to confirm it. I've never seen him look so red."

Ziva laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Tony, really?"

He looked up, face still flushed but wearing a sheepish smile. "What can I say, Zee? I was an enterprising kid."

"Enterprising?" Ziva teased. "Or just good at spinning stories?"

"Both," Tony admitted with a shrug. "Besides, it takes creativity to get by in this world."

Senior patted him on the shoulder, his laughter softening. "Exactly. Creativity, charm...and maybe a little audacity. That's my boy."

The three of them shared a warm, easy moment, each amused by the story and glad for the company, until Senior leaned back, clearly satisfied with his storytelling for the night.

Tony leaned back with a mischievous grin, glancing at his father. "Well, if we're sharing embarrassing stories about me, Dad, I could always share one about Ziva. Her sister, Tali, is quite chatty, you know."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, her voice low and warning. "Tony. I warn you."

Feigning innocence, Tony continued, "So when Ziva was like, I don't know, ten or so, she…"

"Tony," Ziva interrupted, her eyes narrowing, "I am giving you one last warning."

Tony gave her a daring smile. "What? You wouldn't do anything to me in front of my dad…"

Ziva's tone was smooth but steely. "Your dad is not always around, Tony."

Tony's confidence wavered. "Oh… uh, yeah, good point." He cleared his throat, suddenly dropping the story altogether. "You know what, Dad? Forget it. It wasn't that funny anyway."

"Good boy," Ziva said with a grin, clearly enjoying Tony's change of heart.

Senior laughed, clearly impressed. "Well, I have to say, Ziva, I'm impressed with how well you can keep Anthony in line. I might need a few pointers myself."

Ziva just smirked. "Years of practice."

Senior shook his head with a chuckle, taking another sip of his coffee. "Ah, you two… definitely know how to keep things lively."

Senior watched Tony and Ziva over the rim of his coffee cup, quietly amused. They were bickering about something—what, he wasn't entirely sure, but that didn't matter. Tony was animated, his hands moving with each word, while Ziva leaned back with a small, knowing smile, letting him go on until, with a few sharp words, she cut right through his argument. Tony's shoulders slumped, and Ziva flashed a triumphant grin.

It was like watching an old married couple. The thought brought a smile to Senior's face. In all his years, he'd rarely seen his son look so genuinely happy, so at ease. For all the teasing, the eye rolls, and Tony's half-hearted protests, there was something grounding about Ziva's presence beside him. She balanced his son, giving as good as she got, and that was something Tony had needed for a long time.

As they bantered back and forth, Senior recalled the way Tony had described Ziva when they'd first met. "Partner," he'd said, though Senior had caught the way his voice softened when he spoke of her. Over time, that word—"partner"—had taken on new layers. He could see it now in the way they moved, how they could communicate without a word, and how Ziva seemed to understand Tony's moods before he did himself.

"Tony," Ziva warned, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "You are pushing your luck."

Tony threw his hands up in mock defeat. "Alright, alright. But only because you're here to keep me in check, Zeev-ah," he said, drawing out her name in a way that Senior could tell was deliberately designed to get under her skin.

Senior chuckled, shaking his head. They were good together, that was clear as day. He'd seen Tony with his fair share of women over the years, but this—what he had with Ziva—wasn't like any of those fleeting flings or short-lived romances. It was real. And if he were honest, he couldn't help but hope that maybe this relationship would be the one to last.

"Something funny, Anthony?" Ziva asked, her tone light but curious.

"Oh, just a thought," Senior replied, his eyes crinkling. "I was thinking about how well you two seem to fit."

Tony scoffed, shooting his father a sidelong glance. "Alright, Dad, don't get any ideas."

Ziva, on the other hand, merely looked at Senior with a curious smile. "You think we fit well together?" she asked, her gaze softened.

Senior nodded. "Oh, absolutely. It's good for him to have someone who doesn't let him get away with his usual tricks." He looked at Tony, and then back at Ziva. "I know my son better than most, Ziva, and I can tell he's a better man with you beside him."

For a moment, Tony's face softened, and Ziva gave a small, grateful smile. The silence that followed was almost peaceful, as if both were quietly acknowledging something they hadn't yet put into words.

"Well," Tony said after a beat, clearly eager to break the tension, "I guess we'll just have to keep up the act, then."

Senior chuckled to himself, watching the pair go right back to their playful bickering. For all Tony's dismissive words, Senior knew the truth. His son had finally found his match in Ziva, and that was enough to make him feel that his family—imperfect and unconventional as it was—was right where it needed to be.

The next day soon came along and so did the wedding.

Tony stood in front of the mirror, wrestling with his bowtie, muttering under his breath about why they couldn't have just gone with a regular tie. Just as he was about to give up and leave it slightly askew, the bathroom door opened, and Ziva stepped out. He looked up, and his fingers froze, the ends of the bowtie dropping from his hands. She was stunning. She'd left her hair down, the natural curls framing her face, and the dress—perfectly chosen to match his bowtie—brought out warm undertones in her complexion.

Tony's eyes widened as Ziva stepped out of the bathroom, her dress flowing perfectly over her frame, the color complementing her warm complexion and curls. She'd left her hair down, and he was momentarily speechless, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Wow, Zee… that dress," he finally said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You look… incredible. Like, knock-everyone-out-of-their-seats incredible."

Ziva's lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you, Tony," she said, her tone soft. "I thought it would be fitting for the occasion."

"Oh, more than fitting," he said, grinning. "Honestly, I'm not sure anyone's even going to notice the bride if you walk in like that."

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him, but there was a touch of a blush on her cheeks. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Not at all," he replied, still in awe. "You might have just redefined what it means to make an entrance."

Ziva chuckled, giving him a playful nudge as she stepped closer, reaching for his untied bowtie. "Then let's make sure you look the part too."

Ziva caught his gaze, a little smile tugging at her lips as she stepped closer. "Here, let me," she said softly, reaching up to take the bowtie ends from his fingers.

He held still, letting her take over. Ziva worked with quiet focus, skillfully folding the fabric into a neat bow. He watched her face, her serious expression as she adjusted the knot, her fingers brushing his collar. She smelled faintly of jasmine, and the warmth of her hands sent a familiar jolt through him.

"Not bad, huh?" he managed to say, his voice low, unable to hide the admiration in his tone.

Ziva looked up, arching a brow. "Not bad at all," she replied, though it was clear she knew he wasn't just talking about her bowtie skills. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, but she kept her composure, adjusting the last bit of the bow.

"There," she said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "You're all set."

He touched the bowtie lightly, impressed by how perfectly it sat now. "You didn't just get this for me so I'd match, did you?"

Her smile widened. "Maybe I did. Maybe I wanted you to look coordinated for once."

"Only for you, Zee," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice, though he meant every word.

Ziva shook her head, but there was a warmth in her eyes. "Come on, Tony. We should get going. Your father is probably wondering where his best man is."

"Right," Tony said, recovering, though he couldn't resist adding, "Besides, don't want to miss the chance to make every other guy in the room jealous."

Ziva laughed, and together, they walked out of the room, ready to face the day.