A/N- Wow. I can't believe I'm actually posting this. It's been months. I'm so sorry.

So, I planned so many things for this story , I should have known it's easier to plan it in your mind than it is writing it on paper; but this fic is my baby and I could not give it up.

So even though I am super busy with my internship and studying, I'm updating this story again.

I will, however, take a step back and focus on 'Chekhov's Gun', before fully diving back to this one. In fact, I won't be exaggerating when saying 'Chekhov's Gun' is probably the most important story I'll ever work on. Those who favorite and review my stories should check it out.

This story is not sponsored or beta'd; so all original errors are mine. And since my natural language is Hebrew, I may mix things up every now and again (as you probably noticed). Apologies in advance.

Reviews are my way of connecting with you, and they're much appreciated.

Chapter 4: A day In a life, part 1

Tony read somewhere about couples' favorite sleeping positions. 'Spooning' was pushed down to the bottom of the list, God only knows why.

Waking up with Ziva's warm body pressed to his chest, inhaling the soft scent of strawberry shampoo, there's nowhere in the world he'll rather be.

She woke up to empty her stomach only once the other night, which is good, considering, and Tony felt like they're slowly heading back to routine.

This morning, however, it's his stomach to wake him up, once it senses the mouthwatering scent of scrambled eggs and baked muffins. Yum.

Ziva's side of the bed is empty. Huh. No more spooning for them this morning. Passing a hand over his messy bed-hair, Tony forced himself to get up and find his pregnant ninja.

Swaying through the hallway, he calls out, "Hey, Sweetcheeks! Maybe after breakfast we can go back to bed and..-" he comes to a halt when noticing Ziva's not alone in the kitchen. A short, curly, and small person stands right next to her.

"Oh, hell."

The woman scowls at him. "You're in your underwear, Anthony." She says with deep accent which sounds like a strange mixture of Romanian and Arabic. Dipped with disapproval, it's all the more troubling.

Smiling meaningfully, Ziva says, "Tony, you remember my aunt Netti," her expressions of 'be nice' in place, making him cringe.

"Ho… how could I forget?" Tony tries to not look overly horrified. He does. But it's not his fault. This woman has no barrier between her mouth and mind. So, he can admit it, their first encounter via cellphone wasn't exactly warm and traditional, but still. They've started off on the wrong foot, which is not entirely his fault.

Netta huffs, "So… you're the one who couldn't keep it in his pants, huh? Should have known."

See?!

"And you're still in your underwear. Not that I mind full view of young men every once in awhile, but I don't think it's appropriate with Ziva'le here. Go, put a shirt on, and then come here and have breakfast. Ziva needs to eat. You should take better care of your woman, boy."

With a growl, Tony turns back to the room to get dressed, and five minutes later he enters the kitchen again.

Taking a long look at him, from top to bottom, Netta nods once, pleased, and joins the two to the table.

So, she's a bit nosey, that's true, but she adores Ziva, and doesn't want her getting hurt.

Cutting a tomato in two before digging into her egg, Ziva says usefully, "Aunt Netti decided to drop by after I told her everything over the phone. You know, just to make sure we're ok."

Blinking, he offers the elderly woman a hesitant look. "Ah-huh."

Her eyes narrow, as she looks at him suspiciously. It's a test. It has to be.

She cuts through the awkward silence, "You plan to take responsibility over that child, Anthony?!" she gives him the "I-dare-you-to-say-the-wrong-answer" look.

"Of course!" he defends. What kind of man does she think he is? They may not sail off to the sunset anytime soon, but he did think she at least knows how serious he's about all of this.

"You plan on breaking the glass anytime soon?!"*

"Aunt Netti!" Ziva's eyes widen in horror. This is totally inappropriate. Not to mention embarrassing.

Frowning, tony examines his half-filled glass of orange-juice. It's not a fine crystal, but it's a pretty glass. Why would he want to…

Oh.

Gulping, Tony knows he needs to carefully manage his next words. "Right now, I'm just overjoyed knowing Ziva's here with me, and that's were together in this. We didn't talk or think about marriage yet. I know for sure that nothing will make me happier than marrying Ziva, but we're taking everything slow. One step at the time. We waited 8 years, we can wait a little longer."

Ziva's eyes glisten with happiness at his answer. Netta chews on her bread, offering a nod. He passed the test.

After a short pause of the three enjoying their breakfast, Netta suggest, "It's a sunny day outside. You should go for a walk, experience the outdoors a little. Look at her, Anthony, she's all pale. No self respecting Israeli-girl should have such a light skin."

Tony shrugs, and Ziva's eyes lit up. "Oh! There's a new restaurant that got recently opened in Tel Aviv! Maybe we could try it out?" she's practically bouncing in her chair in anticipation, "You know, make a day out of it?"

Tony doesn't mind in the least. When he agrees Aunt Netti grins at them, "See how lucky you two are to have me around?"

They stare.

"What?"

The drive to Tel Aviv gives Ziva the opportunity to open the window and enjoy the hot and fresh air. They part at Rotchiled Blvd. and walk the remaining distance toward their destination, occasionally stopping for fruit Juice and a sundress Ziva fell in love with. They find the place just in time for lunch. The new restaurant is known as "The Library", and it sure lives up to its name. Tony already feels deep in the geek-zone once they step inside, all waiters in suspenders and pathetically looking glasses. Not to mention, the endless bookshelves covering every corner of the restaurant.

Oddly enough though, the food proves itself to be delicious yet simple, and the two quite enjoy themselves.

It was a good idea, taking Ziva out of the farmhouse. She needs the warm breeze and sight of crowded streets.

"You're feeling ok, Sweetcheeks?" he makes sure, "I know you're happy you don't throw up as much as you used to, but you maybe should take it easy?" he asks when seeing her pouncing on her hamburger.

"Oh, afg-bfeeel-grrrrat!" she says with mouth half full. Damned be all manners, she's starving.

He laughs. She's adorable, "You know I meant it, though, right?" he says hesitantly, "Just because we never got to talk about it seriously, doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it. When the time comes, we will make everything official."

She gulps, then smiles, "Yes, I know what you mean. And don't feel overwhelmed by Aunt Netti. She has the tendency to speak her mind out without hesitation."

Tony chuckles, "It's ok…" he reassures, "I know she just looks out for you. And it's good that she does. She's family. I'd be more worried if…-"

He's about to finish his sentence when it all comes to a stop. A loud, bone chilling sound fills the restaurant suddenly. A sound which is strange and unfamiliar to Tony, but to Ziva is more familiar than her own name.

The sound of a siren going off.

They have to get out of there.

NOW.

TBC

* It is known, that in Jewish weddings, the groom gives his final 'signature' to the marriage by breaking a glass placed by his foot (in reminder of the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem). We know Tony is not Jewish, but in an old traditional way, Netti's intention was to ask if and when Tony's going to propose.