A/N: Another wedding drabble

Music played softly as the newlyweds came together in the centre of the dance floor. A perfect smile crossed Breena's lips, pastel pink to match her beautifully atrocious dress, and Jimmy held her closely, a proud grin across his own lips. They moved to the beat of the gentle music, totally in sync. It felt perfect.

"And to think," Ziva said, her arms folded as she stood beside Tony on the sidelines, her in a knee length bridesmaid's dress to match the colour scheme, and Tony in his very own sickly-coloured tuxedos. "We both could have been here by now."

Tony looked sideways at her, a confused look on his face. She realised how that might have sounded.

"I mean," she corrected, "With our…respective partners."

"Oh. Right."

"They look so happy," she said, though her voice had a melancholy tone to it. "How do you think they do it?"

Tony pursed his lips in thought. "When it's right, it's right. And you know that's right. You can see it." He pointed to the happy couple in the middle. "It's practically oozing from them, like…some kind of…oozing…" He lost his analogy, trailing off into a bunch of nonsensical sounds.

There was a silence between them, and Ziva shifted, moving one of her hands up to tangle in her hair, which she had had properly done for possibly the first time ever. "I want that," she admitted softly, and a sigh escaped Tony's lips.

"Me too."

"Out of all of us, I never thought Jimmy would be the first one to get married. I also didn't think it would take seven years. I guess I was wrong on both counts."

"You know, in a weird way, it kinda makes sense," Tony said.

"How?"

"We've got all this baggage," he began.

"Comes with the job," she interjected.

"OK, but just think about what we've gone through. The only way to deal's close yourself off. But Palmer, he's just the medical examiner's little assistant. He has a few bad dreams now and then, but the only real baggage he has is packed into the back of a limo with a 'Just Married' banner on the back that's gonna drive him and Breena off to the airport so they can go consummate their marriage in the best suite a government salary'll buy."

"You know…it sounds awful when I say it, but when Ray proposed to me, I…" she hesitated. "I think one thing that nearly pushed me over the verge of saying yes was maybe wanting all of this." She looked around. The flowers, the cake, the decorations. All of it seemed so desirable sometimes.

"You're kidding." Clearly he had never pinned her as a wedding girl.

"Is it so bad to want a big day for myself? Growing up, the biggest party I went to was my bat mitzvah."

"Any home movies of that one?"

"I just think it would be nice to dress up and eat lovely food and dance and celebrate the fact that I have found someone that makes me happy...that is, if I ever find him."

"Well, you know," he said, stepping a little closer to her, gingerly putting his hands in his pockets. "Even if you don't ever locate Mr Perfect, there's always one thing you can count on."

"What's that?"

"Me," he grinned.

"How can you be so sure?" she questioned, though couldn't hide the smile that made her lips twitch.

"Why, are you going somewhere? 'Cause I'm not. Besides, I've been dodging bullets for fifteen years; don't count on my streak breaking anytime soon. I'm staying right here."

She placed a hand on his upper arm. "Then so am I."

"Actually," he said, a glint appearing in her eye. "How 'bout we don't stay right here, but we move about seven, eight feet that way?"

"That's the dance floor," she objected, confused.

"Exactly." And he held out his hand for her to take, which of course she did.