Summary: When Ziva is forced to cancel Movie Night, Tony starts to miss her and gives her a call.
Disclaimer: I was wondering, if I went on a hunger strike, would Bellisario just give me NCIS, to which I currently have absolutely no rights?
Spoilers: None, except mention of Somalia. Which I've just mentioned, so really, none.
I know, I'm a little weird right now. It's late. So I'm not too sure about my story...I like how it turned out, though, so you might too. Please review? :)
The Undeniable Truth
It was strange. This was the first time that they'd ever had to cancel Movie Night, despite their having had the ritual for years. The first time apart from the months that she had spent in Israel and Somalia, that was. But that was different; they hadn't been 'them' then, and so skipping Movie Night had not made him feel like something had been missing, but they were 'them' now – the 'them' that had existed years ago, before anything had happened to turn their worlds upside-down. He never noticed how much he appreciated these nights until he was forced to pass through them without her.
There was an itch deep in the pit of his stomach as he hung up after Ziva's telling him that she couldn't come to his place because her car had been snowed in. He peered desperately out of his window, hoping that his own car had un-snowed-in itself since the last time he had looked at it, but there was no such luck – he could barely even see its roof. For a moment he considered meticulously shovelling it out of the snow pile, but that was a bad idea – even if he managed to do that in time for him to get to Ziva's apartment, driving would've been dangerous. He sighed. On some level he had known that she wouldn't be able to come. But having her actually confirm it made him feel much worse.
His thumb ran anxiously over the buttons on his phone as he sank slowly and miserably down into his couch. He'd already gotten everything they would need the previous night; the rented movie, the now-refrigerated six-pack, and the yet-to-be-microwaved microwave popcorn. It was a pattern they always followed. One would go to the other's place, and they would microwave the popcorn together and put it in a bowl, take the beer out of the fridge, and set it all on the coffee table. Then they would pop the DVD in and sit watching it, but not really, because they would be too busy quibbling over who had eaten more popcorn. It was the perfect example of their entire relationship, outside of jealousy and every evil that came along with it.
The rented DVD now sat on his coffee table, its colourful cover almost mocking him. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that Ziva wouldn't be there. Ziva wasn't at his apartment most nights, and he had never been the worse for it. Maybe it was just his expectation of her presence; maybe just the habit of their routine. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he liked to hang out with Ziva alone, without work responsibilities and the rest of the team, for at least once a week. Just so he could see how she acted towards him when no one else was looking.
He dismissed the thoughts as soon as they came into his mind. But it was too late anyway; they had already brought with them the undeniable truth. He missed Ziva when she wasn't there with him, and he missed her right now, all the more so because he had looked forward to being able to spend the whole night with her. His thumb rubbed meditatively over her speed-dial number and pressed down upon it before he realized it; he jumped as he watched the black figure appear on the screen. It did nothing, and merely waited for his command. Call, or cancel?
He finally pressed cancel and put down the phone, and then picked it up again, fighting against his actions all the while. Again with the internal struggle between his dignity and his heart. In the end, when it came to loving Ziva, his heart always won out, so he pressed call. It wasn't until she answered that he came to his senses and his dignity took over. He cleared his throat. "Ziva. Um…yeah…I pressed the wrong number."
"Oh, okay. Goodbye, then."
"Wait." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he bit down hard on his lip.
"Yes?" She sounded bewildered.
"Let's just talk."
There was a split-second of hesitation. "Talk?"
"Yeah. You know…we never really talk enough."
"We just spoke ten minutes ago, Tony."
"You called to tell me you weren't coming. I don't really think that counts."
"Okay, then…what do you want to talk about?"
"I don't know. Let's talk about movies."
"Which movie shall we begin with?"
There was another pause on the line, as if she were seriously contemplating it. "We could start with the Sound of Music."
"Oh no. Again?"
"You told me to pick, Tony."
"Well…yeah. Fair enough. Alright. So tell me, who's your favourite character?"
"You already know it is Maria, and you already know why. She just has such a beautiful singing voice…"
He didn't tell her that he thought her voice was beautiful. He didn't tell her that he would always be content to listen to her all night, because she was already making him miss her less. And he'd already heard everything she was saying to him a hundred times before, but he didn't tell her that he would listen to her for a thousand times more if it meant that he got to keep their tradition of spending the night together.
It was really not that complicated, after all. All he needed was her.