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The opportunity presented itself far too little, their jobs usually demanding far too much, but every once in a while, Gibbs would send his team home early. The first time it had happened after they had become partners in more than a professional way, Tony had insisted that these stolen moments as he liked to call them, would be theirs and theirs alone. No meeting up with friends, no grocery shopping and certainly no doing laundry.
On cold or rainy days, they would stay cooped up inside, watching a movie, talking about everything or nothing, languidly running their hands all over each other, hardly ever straying more than an inch from the other for more than five minutes.
On the nicer days, they would venture out in the world, usually with no preset destination, simply enjoying each other’s company, holding hands and seeing where their feet would take them. Which is how they had ended up on a park bench, a mile from her place, watching the ducks in the pond, on a pleasantly warm and sunny Tuesday afternoon.
Tony’s head was in her lap, his face relaxed and turned towards the water, a small smile on his lips, blinking slowly as her fingers ran through his hair over and over again. If anyone dared to comment, she’d blame her uncharacteristic public display of affection on the way the late sunlight seemed to be glowing in his hair, making it look softer than it should be. Any good investigator would check the facts, instead of making assumptions based on appearances and accepting them as truth. She was only doing what she’d been trained to do.
He gave a sigh of contentment and she couldn’t help the corners of her mouth from moving upwards even further.
“I love you,” he murmured, and her heart skipped a beat.
For the first time in ten minutes she briefly glanced away from his face to look at the pond, trying to reign in her emotions.
“Should I be jealous of any duck in particular,” she teased, noticing his eyes were still staring straight ahead at the flock of birds.
He chuckled lowly, and the sound and sensation, made her stomach flutter. “Well,” he drawled, turning his head to face her. “There’s that pretty little thing with the white spot on her neck next to the rose bush, but I think she’s ignoring me.”
“Her loss,” Ziva said, lacing her fingers with his. “Perhaps leaving with another woman will make her jealous,” she suggested teasingly.
He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “If I weren’t already taken, you’d make an excellent wingman, Ziva,” he said, standing up and pulling her with him.
She briefly considered asking him what a wingman was and what it had to do with ducks and relationships, but decided to let it slide when he placed his warm lips on her left temple and guided her in the direction of her apartment.
On rare, slow days like these, she couldn’t help but feel loved, and she would damn well make sure he felt the same way before the sun went down.