She watches outside the door of the nursery, hiding in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. The sun was retreating quickly, another long day coming to a close. And as the sun faded, the noise and commotion faded with it, and Ziva welcomed the silent reprieve. Their team, and by extension, their family, had been dropping in to visit and do what they did best, offering support.
And while she would forever be grateful for the family she had stumbled into; the one she had never imagined having, but couldn’t fathom losing - she finds herself thankful for the calm that has settled in their absence.
Because these were her favorite moments.
A smile tugs at her lips as she leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms and taking in the sight before her. Her eyes travel from the soundless, sleeping children, to her partner who watches diligently from his seat on the floor. His eyes are warm when they finally pull away from their two children and meet her gaze. He awards her a self-aware grin, one in which she returns.
She then raises her eyebrows in question at the sleeping pair, though her eyes lack any of the admonishment he’d been expecting. He still can’t help but shrug sheepishly .
"I know you’re worried about him holding her, but she had fallen asleep and he’s been dying to hold her himself." He turns to look in the children’s direction again as Ziva pushes off from her perch against the threshold and softly paddles over to him.
She trails a hand over his shoulder, letting it settle over the lean muscle, as her other hand reaches to thread lightly through her son’s hair. It’s disheveled on it’s best days, and though no where near her own dark and unruly curls, he’s inherited his father’s unkempt, yet adorably unruly quality.
Ziva smiles knowingly as she caresses his cheek with a feather-light touch, and inclines her head in agreement. All day they’d observed him as he eyed his new sister being passed between his adoptive family, an envious gleam in his eyes. But as much he personified his father in looks, he epitomized his mother’s reserved nature. He hadn’t expressed his desire to hold her on his own more than once after both she and Tony had gently told him not yet; choosing to observe obediently and gaze longingly through out the day with wonder at his very own baby sister.
"He was very good today." Ziva praises lowly, letting her hand fall from son’s face and finally crouching down to sit beside her partner. He hums as her hand on his shoulder retreats to trail slowly down his back, and she’s not sure if it’s in agreement to her statement or to the touch he craves the most.
"He’s always good," Tony murmurs, shifting to lean back against his arms. "He was in full big brother mode today." He closes his eyes as her hand finds it’s way back to the nape of his neck, and Ziva smiles, nodding in silent agreement.
Her fingers continue to play with the soft hairs at his nape.
"It suits him," she sighs warmly, letting her head fall upon his shoulder.
"Yeah." He whispers, and nudges her after a beat. Her eyes search to meet his, and he flashes her the smile that to this day, still does things to her heart.
"This suits us."
He could swear her eyes begin to fill, but he only catches the ghost of her free smile before she turns to hide her head in the crook of his neck. They sit silently, letting the last of the setting sun retreat, watching their children sleep soundly, and the room fills with their soft breathing and the low, permeating glow of a single night-light.
After a lifetime of secrets, espionage, and too-close of calls,
these stolen moments are what she now lives for.
