Ziva skips to her treadmill, her body feeling lighter with every date she and Vicky have. Patches lick her paw; she had been staying home, indulging in food, begging for and receiving plenty of chicken. The kitty was plump, lazy and reminded Ziva so much of herself; the machine burst into life; Patches leapt, circled and settled, taking her position as the personal trainer, eyes judging Ziva’s every stride. Work gave her the opportunity, entrance to their space cadet training, fitness was a huge part; she aced the logistics, her academic brain had absorbed everything, yet the body had failed to keep up. Vicky mused how Ziva enjoyed the good things life offered; of course, that included her; Ziva slipped, distracted at the thought of her girlfriend.
That word, girlfriend, Ziva made the assumption, when the objection failed to transpire, Ziva found it was her who felt surprised. Relationships, those other than friends, Ziva thought were beyond her now; she became complacent with her single life and fur baby motherhood. She busied, cleaning, brushing her pets, hoping Vicky could look past the spartan living. Ziva had made few changes since moving, uninspired by interior decorating, despite watching homemaker over shows. Checking the mirror, Ziva answered the door.
Fiona wagged at the visitor, muscling in on Ziva and Vicky’s embrace with excited yapping. She squeaked her toy, dropping it and pushing it towards Vicky, eager to play. Ziva found herself alone cooking lunch; Fiona had a new best friend as Vicky played fetch, while Asher sat judging the houseguest, his prerogative as a cat. Patches, who had been affectionate in recent weeks, refused to leave her spot, Ziva worried as she curled beneath the bed. Putting aside the chicken, Ziva hoped Patches might come down for some. Vicky attempt polite discussion over the decor, wondering how long Ziva had lived there; she changed the subject, taking advantage of an eager, playful pup who approved of the romance.
The house created some conversational tension; although they enjoyed a movie snuggled together, Ziva felt ashamed of her home, regretting the invite. Morning brought renewed vigour; Vicky had a point the house needed bringing to life, and since Ziva realised inviting her artistic girlfriend to move in might be a bit drastic, the place could use a new perspective. Musing through paint samples a familiar voice ordered croissants and coffee, which she placed atop Ziva’s ideas. Vicky delivered her sweetest apologetic smile, insulting her home unintentional, she hoped Ziva would forgive her. Tearing the croissant Ziva made Vicky squirm waiting for an answer, food solved most problems, and would be the perfect way to say sorry, particular if Vicky could share her input on home improvements.
Ziva danced home; breakfast had become lunch; taking over a table in the coffee shop; she took on board Vicky’s many suggestions. The house seemed quiet; she assumed the cats were hunting, but where was Fiona, and why was she unresponsive to her calls. Upstairs everything she needed to understand, Patches affectionate behaviour, her sudden need for peace and her desire to settle beneath the bed, it all made sense. Fiona’s bum wiggled her head, and front paws were looking at Patches who had given birth to two kittens, neither of which looked like Asher. A stray who frequented their home had taken a shine to Patches; the two babies were clumsy balls of fur, which Ziva called Libby and Abby, were a perfect mix of their parents. Although a welcome addition to the household, it was a reminder to Ziva she needed to prevent future deliveries.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 