Chapter Text
Perhaps for the first time in his life, Anthony DiNozzo Junior was not bothered by traffic. Of course, it would make him late for work, and the Boss would be bothered, a complain which would echo in the back of head quite literally. Yet, he did not seem to care for once. Every second spent here was one more in this comfortable silence despite his father being at his side. Because he was at his side. In fact, the shy smiles they were sending each other from time to time were cuter than a good final romcom scene. Really, it felt nice not to have to refrain the anxious thoughts that one would inevitably say something wrong, do something to shake the tightrope on which they barely balanced thanks to a bit of affection and a lot of politeness. Today, he did not have to put the radio on or tap his fingers against the wheel to bring some sort of noise from the back to the foreground.
All was not fixed, of course, but Tony firmly believed that the ring on his finger had solidified something, them. He had thought for so long – and he would argue that it had been easy to, forgiving being so different from forgetting – that Senior only cared when it suited himself, that they bore the same name to remind Tony of the pressure yet the impossibility to be like him, to live up to him. But the fact that his father had kept their family heirloom to give to him, despite his financial difficulties and how much they had grown apart the last twenty years, well, that meant a lot. Talk’s cheap when a small action can be so much clearer.
His phone started ringing, the reality check he (always) expected from work. Against every child instinct to never let a parent talk for them, a small smile crept on his face as he turned to his father, handing him his phone where his partner’s name and face had appeared.
“Hey, dad, can you tell Ziva that we’re stuck in traffic? Oh, and ask her to send me an address, there’s definitely been a murder if she’s calling.”
Senior looked delighted as he took the phone, sticking out his chest as if a noble quest had just been entrusted upon him. He took a deep breath, ready to make his son proud.
“- “And not flirting. Please.” Because, well, Senior would always be Senior. That yearly realisation used to make him sad, but these days he was also able to acknowledge the reassurance it provided. Like the ring round his pinky, at times in the way of clothing, movement, or suddenly feeling too constrictive, it had a fixed position here. Forever.
“I know how to be professional, Junior” – Ah … really? “I just can never find the necessity for it.” – There it was. “Good morning to my favourite lady. You are speaking to the real Anthony DiNozzo, Junior is driving me to the airport.” Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes, imagining the smile that would find Ziva’s face. He did not get enough of such reactions from her. He heard her laugh lightly, and he had the thought for the second time today already that he reallyshould try to be more like his father sometimes.
“Good morning, Mister DiNozzo, would you please tell your son that we have a case? It has been a pleasure to see you again, I wish that you will have a great flight home.”
“Thank you my dear, I will tell him. Do not forget to call and tell me how you found the cookies, or I’ll come back to collect feedback in person. It was lovely to see you. And please, sweetheart… call me Anthony.”
Wow, okay, if his father spoke like this to every woman, no wonder his neighbour hadn’t been able to resist him. … Ugh, a shiver ran through him at the thought of his bed again. That, or the possibility of another woman in his bed with his father, especially a certain wom-Alright, alright, no more self-torture for today. He shook his head and tried to reach for the phone without looking.
“Alright, enough with that, just- Ziva! Send me the address, okay?!” He almost shouted since his father seemed reluctant to give it back.
“So rude, Junior, that is no way to speak to a woman. And if you call that flirting, I really have not taught you enough. Ziva is-
“Still on the phone. I have just sent the address, we are leaving now, he will have to join us, then. And deal with Gibbs.”
“You are a real treasure, Ziva, and please forgive Junior, he only l-”
“Dad, please! For the love of-“ He turned his head to catch the phone, not wanting a confrontation he was not ready for. Well… at least not like this. He did not have time to go that dangerous road, especially as his eyes were suddenly distracted by suspicious movement on the other side of the window.
“Uh, dad?...” Surely, that car was going too fast, right? And straight towards them?
The flashing smile of this father he had spent so many hours trying to copy in front of a mirror was the last clear thing he saw before he felt his whole body – then everything else – being knocked over.
“Dad!”
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Perhaps for the first time in her life, Ziva was actively trying to feel her emotions and sort them out. There were just too many of them these days, and she eventually found herself tired of ignoring them. As she had told Tony not long ago, there were bound to come back to sting her in the ass, anyway.
Of course, it was scary. Partly because most of them seemed to revolve around him, him, and him. Two half-fathers and one half-partner. She was so glad that Tony and his father seemed to have made peace with each other, mended past wounds, but also jealous and guilty for it. Ha, her father would remind her how America made her weak if she had come to feel this way. But the truth was, she had been haunted by similar feelings since her childhood, and she knew he was too.
She also felt ridiculous, ridiculously mushy for missing him, staring at the empty desk as if his car had exploded again, trying to repress the intuition that something was wrong just because of his absence from where he belonged. In front of her. Close. Closer than ever, these days, which could explain her crazy attachement issue. Ever since the elevator episode – he called it that, of course – they had started going out more, enjoying how well they could talk, which incidently reduced the time they spent with other people, including potential dates. They had lowered down on the teasing, and she felt more earnest regret and annoyance invading her when he seemed close to asking someone out, even after she had stupidly dared him to, or after noticing the good looks of a suspect. He also sent her more side glances, and his smiles lingered more. Well, she thought he did. (She already struggled to understand her own self, but Tony DiNozzo was definitely the biggest enigma of her life.)
And when he showed her the picture of his mother, and moments later gifted her a night at the opera in their bullpen to honour her sister, she wondered why she had not tried to get to know this Tony before – the sweet, caring, vulnerable man who was most beautiful with his eyes lightly pressed and mouth barely open, as if in awe (of her).
Her musings were interrupted by her boss entering the squad room with his usual entrance line “Dead marine, let’s go.”. Only it was rather McGee’s head bumping into his desk at the boss’s arrival which startled her.
“What are you doing, McGee?”
“Er, boss, hi, I was just trying to rewire-”
“Never cared, McGee, let’s go. Where’s DiNozzo?”
“Er…” He turned to Ziva.
“He was sending his father out this morning if I remember. I can call him.” After a glare that mean ‘you think?’, she easily found the name on her phone and pressed the ‘call’ button. She did not have time to speak before she heard the charming voice of Tony’s father, which made her smirk, eliciting confusing looks from Gibbs and McGee.
“Good morning, Mister DiNozzo, would you please tell your son that we have a case? It has been a pleasure to see you again, I wish that you will have a great flight home.” She sent a ‘told you’ look to her boss who affectionately rolled his eyes and started walking towards his desk to grab his own gear.
She stood up, ready to say goodbye when Tony’s voice echoed in the background and they started to bicker like children. Some things would never change, obviously. And despite their beautiful reunion, it was probably good that Senior was not staying for too long.
“… Ziva is-”
“-Still on the phone. I have just sent the address, we are leaving now, he will have to join us, then. And deal with Gibbs.”
Just as she said it, he was walking past her and sent her a loving glance before switching to ‘well done but let’s go now’. She stoop up and was about to say goodbye when she heard Tony’s voice calling his father. She knew that tone. She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes widened at his cry followed by a loud crashing noise, unmistakedly a car collision.
“Tony? Tony?! … Tony!” But the transmission had died. Ziva could only hope that nothing – and no one else had.
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The flash of Senior’s old camera clicked as he and his mother smiled brightly, standing in front of the movie theater.
“Don’t you look beautiful like this!” Senior wore that closed content smile Tony didn’t know he would never see again until he was 44. Despite being told so little – while asking a lot – he knew something was wrong with his mother, so he wanted to cherish their time together. He also really wanted to get snacks and see the Little Prince.
“Come on, mom, dad, we’re gonna miss the movie!” He tugged at his mother’s hand who started laughing at his impatience but kept staring at the in front of her.
"Alright, have fun! I’ll meet you at the end… or later, darlings!”
"Anthony…” She sent his father a sweet but knowing look.
"It’s nothing, my love, I promise. I’ll be back and we’ll get ice cream, alright my boy?” At which Tony jumped ‘yes! see ya!’ and dragged her smiling mother towards the entrance.
“Love you!” His father waved, lingering a little more than he had planned at them walking away. “Love you both.”
~
Sometime halfway into the movie, a funny scene made him shake with laughter and he turned to his mother. He was surprised to see her already looking at him, tears in her eyes.
“Mom? Did you see the scene? Are you okay?”
She smiled at him. “Of course.” She let her fingers stroke the back of his head, his nape covered with tiny, soft blond hairs.
“But you’re not looking.”
“I don’t need to.”
Often annoyed when adults spoke in riddles like this, today he tried to look at the screen again, and then back at his mother in order to make sense of her words for once. Soon enough she and the rose started to merge and become one long loving figure tending to him even when he closed his eyes or looked away.
~
During the closing titles, Tony swallowed really hard not to let any tear reach his eyes before the lights turned on again. He did not allow to ask himself whether this was due to the movie or the woman next to him since either way, ‘DiNozzo men do not cry’.
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The ghost of a familiar female voice crying out his name from afar caused Tony’s brain to slowly wax and wane from darkness to a blurry post-apocalyptic scene. He was still wondering what was happening admist all the chaos when his own cough brought him back. He sat up straighter and quickly remembered the moments before while his vision progressively recovered, the seatbelt crushing his lungs.
Car. Dad. Airport. Work. Ziva. Dad. Flirting. Car. Full speed. Dad.
He ignored what was probably firemen shouting questions and twisted his neck to look at his father. He winced as he felt a sharp pain in his nose, like a needle. He did not have the time to care for it as the limp figure of his father appeared on the side, head hanging low against the car door.
“… Dad?”
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