NCIS Fic: So Complicated, McNozzo, rated:PG-13/FRT
This is pure unadulterated fluff. I've been wanting some good fluff, and there's been a dearth of McNozzo lately. So, I decided to write some!
Inspired by the song Perfect by Pink, which is also where the title comes from. Also by a prompt from
dailyprompt from a couple of weeks ago: "That awkward moment when..." I usually don't get much from prompts, but this one actually came at the right time.
No spoilers, unless you consider a reference from S2 and S7 a spoiler. Set... now? Ish? Sometime during S8, I guess, before EJ appeared I'd say. Possibly incorrect usage of a couple of Statistics terms, but in my defense, it's been more than a decade since I took that class, so please forgive me :)
Rated for some bad language. I might have also been channeling Barney Stinson a little (How I Met Your Mother); if you're in the know, you'll see why. Enjoy!
So Complicated
You know that moment when you’ve said something without thinking because somebody did something that hurt your feelings, and you instantly regretted saying it? Even if you know that there was no intent behind the act that hurt your feelings? Even though you that somebody was only being themselves, and that you’ve likely hurt them just as badly as they hurt you, if not more?
Yeah, that’s where McGee was at the moment.
He’d been in that moment most of the afternoon unfortunately, and now, sitting in his car and wondering where to go, he couldn’t help but wonder why he kept allowing this to happen. It wasn’t even as if Tony was doing anything that out of the ordinary, though Tim couldn’t help but wonder about the whys behind the whole thing.
The Sec-Nav had shown up after lunch, throwing much of the office into a spiral of stress and sniping. The worst part was that he’d brought his secretary, a leggy brunette named Angela who had been all too receptive to Tony’s initial greeting and offer of a seat. Tony had immediately fallen right into his old persona, at least the persona that had at one time flirted with women and knew how to do it in such a way that his Probie had always been jealous of.
It didn’t help when Angela had moved in seductively, one hand brushing her hair behind an ear then reaching out to touch Tony’s. He was standing over her, leaning against his desk behind which she was sitting. From the vantage point of his corner, Tim could just about see the electricity in the air even if it was only really coming from one source. But Tony’s old fraternity name “Sex Machine” wasn’t undeserved; even without active interest in the woman, he still knew how flatter and captivate with a well-timed smile and a crinkling of his eyes.
And then the words came out of his mouth, words that McGee wouldn’t even let himself remember they were so biting. Out of the corner of his eye he’d seen Ziva shoot him a stunned look, and he’d been lucky Gibbs hadn’t been in the room at the time; it would have been prime head-slap material if there ever had been. But the hardest part was looking at Tony, and seeing those damn walls fly into place, walls that they were both adept at building, and had taken months of working together to tear down.
An awkward atmosphere had settled in the squad room after his cutting and extremely inaccurate remark, though Angela had only let the silence continue for a moment, quickly saying something to Tony under her breath. For his part Tony had just smiled at her flatly, suddenly very obviously anxious, and sadly for McGee, embarrassed. Then Gibbs walked up, oblivious to the tension, and the rest of the afternoon went downhill from there. Tony and Ziva had ended up trying to dig out leads in the case of some missing Navy captain who worked in the office of the Sec-Nav while Tim and Abby sifted through gigabyte on gigabyte of encrypted hard drive in the lab.
Now it was just after 20:00, and McGee was frozen, stuck in not knowing where he should go tonight. He and Tony had never had a minute alone, and they’d long ago pledged to never talk relationship in the office so it really wouldn’t have mattered. But Tim knew he’d have had an answer to the question he was currently trying to figure out if he’d been able to simply look in the other man’s eyes, even over Abby’s work station. Yet that opportunity had never come up, and he was here, his hands limp in his lap, staring out into a dark parking lot and completely uncertain about where he belonged right now.
His little old, boxy apartment in Silver Springs was still his, but besides his writing desk, some old clothes, most of his books, and some spare computer components, there was nothing there for him anymore. No television, no internet, and very likely no food, at least nothing he’d probably want to chance eating. But most of all, there was no Tony. Hell, there wasn’t even any Jethro, who’d basically moved in with Tony when his owner had. Tony had bought a townhouse shortly before they’d gotten together, with a garage and a backyard and an overall much better set-up for a German shepherd.
But guilt had Tim immobile, completely unsure if Tony would want him around yet. If he could go back in time, he’d have head-slapped himself into oblivion before he’d ever opened his mouth and insulted the man he loved. But that was impossible, and now all he could hope for was to go home, to Tony’s, and test the waters. And if necessary, beg for forgiveness.
Because Tony was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And if he’d screwed it up, he didn’t know what he’d do.
So he drove through the streets of DC, making his way towards Georgetown. Tim could feel the anxiety tying knots in his stomach. When was he going to learn not to let his mouth get away from him? He’d gotten too good at putting Tony down, and not in the endearing and mostly harmless ways Tony had done for years. Not that many of the things Tony had been said hadn’t hurt, but Tim had long ago figured out that most of that was just Tony being Tony; he’d claimed to be toughening up his Probie and admitted that he might have fumbling when his feelings got in the way. DiNozzo had divulged awhile ago that sometimes the things that came out of his mouth had more to do with his own perceived short-comings, and sometimes because, as he’d put it, “You inspired me to make an idiot out of myself by being entirely too adorable and innocent for your own good.”
McGee had been a bit put out by that comment, but it had also opened up into a whole new conversation, leading both men to admit that they’d had “feelings” for each other since about the time Tim had been transferred up from Norfolk. And both of them had been very careful to always use air quotes with that particular word for some unknown reason, as if using them made the wasted years worth it and more of a joke than a completely missed opportunity.
He only had to drive around Tony’s block once to find a parking spot; Tony had a garage, but it was a garage built for one, and whoever got home first had first dibs. Abby had kept him busy down in the basement until it was time to call it a day, and when he’d first driven down the street Tim had seen lights on in the house, meaning only one thing. That ratcheted up his nervousness almost exponentially. He’d hoped he’d beat Tony home, have time to prepare for what he was sure would be a big stand-off between them, or at least time to get ready to see the look on Tony’s face after a few hours to really think about what Tim had said, and time enough to reconsider their whole arrangement.
Once he’d safely parked his car a few houses up the street from Tony’s, he head-slapped himself. He really needed to learn not to think the worst about everything regarding this relationship. He grabbed his pack from the passenger seat and climbed out, promptly coming to a standstill on the street. The nervousness was coming in waves again, crashing into him and he had an overwhelming desire to get back in his car and just drive away. But then he realized he didn’t really have anywhere to go, and that he was tired, and that he knew he had to go in and talk to Tony if he had any hope of making it up to the man before it was too late.
So he forced himself to move, taking steps that didn’t feel too sure but were at least going in the right direction. The front door was unlocked, though that wouldn’t have mattered; he’d had a key since the end of the first month he and Tony had been seeing each other. He let himself in, dropping his pack on the floor next to Tony’s and took off his jacket. Jethro welcomed him home excitedly as always, and he bent over to love up the dog before he went any further. Jethro love was always a good way to calm his nerves. The dog was satisfied much quicker than Tim was unfortunately, and with a last lick to Tim’s face he trotted away and returned to the backyard through his very own door.
The smell of curry met him as he moved towards the kitchen at the back of the house, passing through the living room where boxes of take-out Indian food sat steaming on the coffee table. He could hear Tony making noise in the kitchen, so he continued on and found the other man rustling through the contents of a drawer.
“Hey,” Tony greeted him, finding what he’d been looking for and turning around. “Have fun down with Abby?” he asked easily, smiling as he reached for the bottle of white wine and started working on the cork.
“Yeah. The encryption was easy enough. Finding what we’re looking for is going to take time,” he replied, swallowing his unease.
Tony pulled the cork from the bottle, smiling. “We found nothing. Got less out of the afternoon than I got out of watching Battlefield Earth.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.” Tony poured the wine into two glasses, handed one to Tim, and walked out to the living room. “At least I had something to laugh at with the movie.” He sat down on the couch and started opening boxes, leaving Tim alone at the threshold between the two rooms, feeling kind of lost. “I got butter chicken, three servings of that Thai cabbage salad you eat by the pound, rice, and extra naan for me,” Tony said, glancing at Tim. They shared an almost shy grin at the joke; McGee had given up eating most bread, and Tony could never resist eating it in front of him and savoring every bite torturously.
Tony’s attention was back on the food, so Tim breathed deeply and joined him on the couch, toeing of his shoes and kicking them under the table. “You must have driven. You usually prefer something mild after a few hours in the car with Ziva.”
Tony chuckled. “Most of the time. But I had my heart set on curry, so Ziva had to suck it up. It’s time she learned to do that anyway.”
They hadn’t actually looked that closely at each other yet, and when Tony reached for the remote, Tim fought with himself to not stay silent. He was hungry, and knew that if he didn’t untie the knot in his stomach before he ate he’d be up all night popping Tums.
So he poked at the loaded plate Tony handed him for a few minutes while they both watched some black-and-white film on one of the movie channels. Tim had no idea what the film was, though he was sure Tony knew the title, the year it was released, the director, all of the stars, and the plot inside and out. This was often the case when they watched movies together, suffice it to say, and Tim had learned to love it when Tony expounded about whatever film they watched. He’d light up and talk for almost the entire movie and get excited about what was coming next, bringing Tim along with him for the ride.
But for the few minutes they sat silently watching, Tony never said a word, making the knot that much tighter. Tim managed a couple bites of the salad with its spicy dressing and one forkful of chicken and rice, his glass of wine sitting untouched on the table in front of them. The air between them was making Tim feel worse with every second, and he tried to find the right words to say, or any words to say. But they wouldn’t come.
“I’m sorry.”
That brought his focus away from his own anxiety, his eyes landing on the side of Tony’s face. The other man was still looking at the television. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who insulted someone.”
“Yeah, me,” replied Tony, taking a sip of wine. “But then again, I was openly flirting with a beautiful woman in front of you. Even Ziva thought I was being an asshole, though she used some Hebrew word that I got the feeling was harsher than simply ‘asshole’.”
“Doesn’t mean I should have said that,” he said, kind of confused to be defending his right to apologize to the man he’d wronged and seemed to be trying to take all the responsibility for the situation.
“No, it doesn’t. She used a similar word to describe you and that remark. It was pretty spiteful, you know.”
He sighed. “I know.” He didn’t know what else to say, so settled for trying to take another bite of chicken.
Tony watched him, taking a bite from his own plate to fill the uncomfortable moment. Tim forced the food down his throat, swallowing loudly and almost choking after having not chewed it enough. He set his plate back on the table and turned towards Tony. “Why do you still do that? And do you do it when I’m not around?” He knew how insecure he sounded, but considering he felt insecure he figured it was just as well Tony knew it.
Tony shrugged, setting his own plate down. “No, that’s the first time I’ve flirted with a woman in a long time,” he reassured, then sighed. “It’s like an old suit, I guess.”
That made Tim frown. “I’m an old suit?”
The head-slap was his first answer. “Will you let me explain? And no, you’re not the old suit. She was.”
“What?” Now Tim was confused.
“Flirting with her is like an old, comfortable suit. Easy to put on and you have all of these memories stored in the pockets with the lint and the old receipts. You take it out and try it on from time to time, but you put it away and never wear it out because you’ve got a better suit, one that fits you a lot better and is much more comfortable and just makes you look good. The old suit makes you nostalgic, but that’s it. The real prize is that new one, and you begin to wonder why you even keep that old one anymore.”
All McGee could do was stare at Dinozzo, parsing out the metaphor. He was pretty sure he got the point, but he was having a hard time believing what Tony was saying. This was a man who could have about any woman or man eating out of his hand, almost literally, but somehow he was happy with this “suit” sitting next to him and considered his self the winner of some prize? The world was tilting on its axis; that was the only explanation.
Tony examined him closely, and grinned self-consciously. “You don’t believe me?”
“That I’m the prize in this equation? I don’t-know.”
“Well, believe it, accept it, live it. It’s a fact.” Tony slid closer to him, placing a hand on his knee and shaking it gently. “Somehow you ended up being fucking perfect for me in all the ways that count, and a lot of ways that I didn’t think did. NCIS made me feel like I’d finally found the right place. It fit me as well as I fit it. Then you toddled into my life-“
“Is that an oblique reference to me being overweight back then?” Tim asked suspiciously, knowing it wasn’t but force of habit made him ask.
“No, it’s an oblique reference to you being a bumbling baby Probie back then. And stop interrupting. Gibbs saw someone who would make an excellent investigator, but all I thought of was getting a Probie to call my own. And then it occurred to me maybe I’d been waiting for you like I’d been waiting for something like NCIS, it just took a lot longer than it should have before I figured it out. Before we figured it out.”
Tim could only gape at this point. Tony had never exactly been good at talking about attachments or relationships, least of all theirs. And that fact was according to the man himself. Neither one of them ever really waxed romantic, yet, in his Tony style, that’s exactly what the other man was doing. Tim still couldn’t figure out how his insult earlier had led to this; he was the one who should be explaining things, not the other way around.
“Stop thinking. Just listen. You aren’t the same McGee we met stationed at Norfolk who worked mainly by himself and was eager to please. He’s been gone for a long time. Gibbs put me through the a civilian version of boot camp for nearly two years before you showed up, and then I got to do the same with you. And watching you grow up to the hot little detective you are helped me grow up.
“And now I don’t have that feeling at the back of my neck that I always seem to have when I’m with someone. There’s no room for it because you fill me up in ways that I can’t describe, fill up all those gaps in my personality that always get me in trouble.” Tony trailed off, his face turning red, probably because he heard what he was saying.
So Tim rescued him, because that’s what they do. “You described pretty vividly how I fill you up to Ziva, Abby, Breena, and Palmer the other night.”
Tony glared, his previous indignity forgotten. “That was your fault. You said ‘fuck you’, and after that much to drink on empty stomachs, you should have known better. Besides, Ziva keeps giving me funny looks. I think we piqued her interest in more than just your prowess.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, feeling his own face grow warm at the memory of the fascinated smiles Ziva had sent his direction the next day in the office.
“And Abby wanted to compare notes.”
“Hey!”
“At least you’re still easy to freak out,” Tony said, smiling and letting Tim in on the joke.
“This isn’t the way this is supposed to go. I’m the one that said something that hurt you which was still unnecessary. I’m the one that should be telling you what you mean to me and trying to prove to you how sorry I am.” Tim still didn’t really understand why he was so upset by the fact that Tony was the one doing the most talking when he wasn’t the one in the wrong. “You’re the injured party here yet you’re the one doing the apologizing. It’s all backwards.”
“Oh, hey, no, I still fully expect you to make it up to me for what you said. Even Ziva’s on my side with this, and we both know how often that happens. But it’s not like I wasn’t being a total dick, and while I hardly think I deserved what you said, I know where it was coming from. I don’t even remember what the woman’s name was-“
“Angela,” Tim provided for him.
“-thank you, but she’s old suit. You’re the new suit. I promise, even if I take the old suit out from time to time, which after today is highly unlikely, I will always remember and prefer the nicely made one I get to go home to and that fits perfectly. And has a great ass.”
“The suit has a great ass?”
“Are you trying to piss me off, or just tired of the suit imagery?”
“It’s a nice suit?” Tim leaned toward him smirking, not really sick of the imagery but enjoying that he could still get Tony’s goat too.
“It’s a fucking Zegna, baby.” Tony met him half way, and they kissed, both chuckling. It was a quick kiss, and when they pulled apart they were still smiling at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Tim murmured out of compulsion. “I know I have no reason to worry.”
“No you don’t. But you wouldn’t be you if there wasn’t a little insecurity buried under all that bravado, irrational as it might be.”
“I have ‘bravado?’”
“Well, that was either bravado earlier, or you just really think I’m that much of a jackass,” Tony replied, making a face at him then turning serious again. “You don’t have any more reason to worry than I do, and I know how much I worry about screwing things up with you all the time. I think it’s kind of inevitable with two people as off kilter as we are.”
Tony reached for his dinner, handing Tim his at the same time. They started eating again, turning their attention back to the television. A few minutes passed, and then Tony was filling him on the movie, its title, the director, the stars, and by the last scenes Tim felt fully caught up with the plot and had managed to eat all of his food. He even stole a piece of the naan out of Tony’s hands, making a show of eating it without a care.
After the movie and a short session of necking on the couch, they cleaned up the leftovers and decided to go to bed early. They both knew that Gibbs had come out of that visit with the Sec-Nav displeased, which meant the earlier they got back to work the next day and got closer to whatever it was they were looking for, besides the missing Navy captain, the more likely they were to actually get sleep.
They took Jethro for a short walk around the neighborhood, chatting about the case they knew little about, holding hands in the safety of the dark night. They fed him when they got back, and got ready for bed. By the time they were climbing in, Jethro was already sacked out in one corner at the end of the bed, and Tony mentioned again how they really needed to go get a California king if three males were going to continue sleeping together every night. Tim didn’t say anything in reply, the significance of their earlier discussion rushing back in and forcing him to realize what Tony was really saying: ‘they’ needed to get a larger bed, not ‘he’.
Tony must have picked up on the swift reappearance of Tim’s unease, because he pulled him closer and wrapped himself around him. “I didn’t give you that key so your keys could have a new friend, you know.”
“What?” Tim asked, trying to sound collected and failing miserably.
“I gave you that key with the hopes of it becoming your key for our house at some point. And I have to say I’m mildly offended that I’m having to explain that to you,” Tony explained with a smile on his face, and Tim nodded.
“I love you,” he breathed, and for the first time without reservation. Not that he’d never said it before, but it felt like the first time he’d said it without an ounce of fear or hesitation. He had to admit it felt pretty fucking amazing. Perfect, really.
“I love you too,” Tony whispered, kissing him again. “Even if you can be a snarky bastard sometimes.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Says the man who compared me to a suit earlier.”
“An expensive and well-made suit, so stop whining. Considering you seem to be under the impression I’m still my old gigolo self-“
“I didn’t call you a gigolo! I wouldn’t even use that word,” Tim replied, lifting an eyebrow as he frowned at Tony.
“Whatever.” Tony kissed him again, and Tim’s frown melted away. “Mrs. Mallard called me that once, before threatening me with a knife she apparently hid in her ‘brassiere’,” Tony said, doing a bad job of faking the old woman’s voice and accent. “That was one interesting lady, wish we’d have gotten the chance to hang out with her more. She asked to see Kate’s underwear. It was awesome.”
Tim snorted at that, imagining the look on their late partner’s face at the question. They settled once again, holding each other tiredly, but Tim’s brain was still working. “Maybe it’s just a function of our both being men,” he hypothesized quietly.
“What’s a function of our both being men? Our dysfunction? Probably. I’m sure Kate’s sister would have some good theories. And you’re such a geek.”
“What’s new?” Tim pointed out.
“That’s the second time tonight you’ve referred to our relationship like it’s a math problem that needs figuring out.” Tony laid his head on Tim’s shoulder, kissing his skin. “I’m sorry, Tim.”
“I’m sorry too, Tony.”
They squeezed each other tightly for a second, and Tim could feel Tony’s fingers brushing lightly against his side while Tim was dragging his own up and down Tony’s back. They were an equation, he thought, an equation that took a lot of work to figure out, like doing statistics without a graphing calculator. One where the inferences changed all the time and the data collected was always up for interpretation. But McGee was good at math, always had been, and as he felt that last wave crest that would pull him into unconsciousness, he realized this whole thing wasn’t going to be as difficult as he’d thought it would be just a few hours ago. And after tonight, he felt sure their confidence interval was pretty small and that the chances this would work between them fell on the high side of the probability.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop thinking about us like we’re a math problem?” Tony mumbled. “I can feel you counting things out with your fingers against my back. Go to sleep.”
Yup, it was going to work.
This entry was originally posted at http://harempriestess.dreamwidth.org/21993.html. Comment on either site.
Inspired by the song Perfect by Pink, which is also where the title comes from. Also by a prompt from
dailyprompt from a couple of weeks ago: "That awkward moment when..." I usually don't get much from prompts, but this one actually came at the right time.
No spoilers, unless you consider a reference from S2 and S7 a spoiler. Set... now? Ish? Sometime during S8, I guess, before EJ appeared I'd say. Possibly incorrect usage of a couple of Statistics terms, but in my defense, it's been more than a decade since I took that class, so please forgive me :)
Rated for some bad language. I might have also been channeling Barney Stinson a little (How I Met Your Mother); if you're in the know, you'll see why. Enjoy!
So Complicated
You know that moment when you’ve said something without thinking because somebody did something that hurt your feelings, and you instantly regretted saying it? Even if you know that there was no intent behind the act that hurt your feelings? Even though you that somebody was only being themselves, and that you’ve likely hurt them just as badly as they hurt you, if not more?
Yeah, that’s where McGee was at the moment.
He’d been in that moment most of the afternoon unfortunately, and now, sitting in his car and wondering where to go, he couldn’t help but wonder why he kept allowing this to happen. It wasn’t even as if Tony was doing anything that out of the ordinary, though Tim couldn’t help but wonder about the whys behind the whole thing.
The Sec-Nav had shown up after lunch, throwing much of the office into a spiral of stress and sniping. The worst part was that he’d brought his secretary, a leggy brunette named Angela who had been all too receptive to Tony’s initial greeting and offer of a seat. Tony had immediately fallen right into his old persona, at least the persona that had at one time flirted with women and knew how to do it in such a way that his Probie had always been jealous of.
It didn’t help when Angela had moved in seductively, one hand brushing her hair behind an ear then reaching out to touch Tony’s. He was standing over her, leaning against his desk behind which she was sitting. From the vantage point of his corner, Tim could just about see the electricity in the air even if it was only really coming from one source. But Tony’s old fraternity name “Sex Machine” wasn’t undeserved; even without active interest in the woman, he still knew how flatter and captivate with a well-timed smile and a crinkling of his eyes.
And then the words came out of his mouth, words that McGee wouldn’t even let himself remember they were so biting. Out of the corner of his eye he’d seen Ziva shoot him a stunned look, and he’d been lucky Gibbs hadn’t been in the room at the time; it would have been prime head-slap material if there ever had been. But the hardest part was looking at Tony, and seeing those damn walls fly into place, walls that they were both adept at building, and had taken months of working together to tear down.
An awkward atmosphere had settled in the squad room after his cutting and extremely inaccurate remark, though Angela had only let the silence continue for a moment, quickly saying something to Tony under her breath. For his part Tony had just smiled at her flatly, suddenly very obviously anxious, and sadly for McGee, embarrassed. Then Gibbs walked up, oblivious to the tension, and the rest of the afternoon went downhill from there. Tony and Ziva had ended up trying to dig out leads in the case of some missing Navy captain who worked in the office of the Sec-Nav while Tim and Abby sifted through gigabyte on gigabyte of encrypted hard drive in the lab.
Now it was just after 20:00, and McGee was frozen, stuck in not knowing where he should go tonight. He and Tony had never had a minute alone, and they’d long ago pledged to never talk relationship in the office so it really wouldn’t have mattered. But Tim knew he’d have had an answer to the question he was currently trying to figure out if he’d been able to simply look in the other man’s eyes, even over Abby’s work station. Yet that opportunity had never come up, and he was here, his hands limp in his lap, staring out into a dark parking lot and completely uncertain about where he belonged right now.
His little old, boxy apartment in Silver Springs was still his, but besides his writing desk, some old clothes, most of his books, and some spare computer components, there was nothing there for him anymore. No television, no internet, and very likely no food, at least nothing he’d probably want to chance eating. But most of all, there was no Tony. Hell, there wasn’t even any Jethro, who’d basically moved in with Tony when his owner had. Tony had bought a townhouse shortly before they’d gotten together, with a garage and a backyard and an overall much better set-up for a German shepherd.
But guilt had Tim immobile, completely unsure if Tony would want him around yet. If he could go back in time, he’d have head-slapped himself into oblivion before he’d ever opened his mouth and insulted the man he loved. But that was impossible, and now all he could hope for was to go home, to Tony’s, and test the waters. And if necessary, beg for forgiveness.
Because Tony was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And if he’d screwed it up, he didn’t know what he’d do.
So he drove through the streets of DC, making his way towards Georgetown. Tim could feel the anxiety tying knots in his stomach. When was he going to learn not to let his mouth get away from him? He’d gotten too good at putting Tony down, and not in the endearing and mostly harmless ways Tony had done for years. Not that many of the things Tony had been said hadn’t hurt, but Tim had long ago figured out that most of that was just Tony being Tony; he’d claimed to be toughening up his Probie and admitted that he might have fumbling when his feelings got in the way. DiNozzo had divulged awhile ago that sometimes the things that came out of his mouth had more to do with his own perceived short-comings, and sometimes because, as he’d put it, “You inspired me to make an idiot out of myself by being entirely too adorable and innocent for your own good.”
McGee had been a bit put out by that comment, but it had also opened up into a whole new conversation, leading both men to admit that they’d had “feelings” for each other since about the time Tim had been transferred up from Norfolk. And both of them had been very careful to always use air quotes with that particular word for some unknown reason, as if using them made the wasted years worth it and more of a joke than a completely missed opportunity.
He only had to drive around Tony’s block once to find a parking spot; Tony had a garage, but it was a garage built for one, and whoever got home first had first dibs. Abby had kept him busy down in the basement until it was time to call it a day, and when he’d first driven down the street Tim had seen lights on in the house, meaning only one thing. That ratcheted up his nervousness almost exponentially. He’d hoped he’d beat Tony home, have time to prepare for what he was sure would be a big stand-off between them, or at least time to get ready to see the look on Tony’s face after a few hours to really think about what Tim had said, and time enough to reconsider their whole arrangement.
Once he’d safely parked his car a few houses up the street from Tony’s, he head-slapped himself. He really needed to learn not to think the worst about everything regarding this relationship. He grabbed his pack from the passenger seat and climbed out, promptly coming to a standstill on the street. The nervousness was coming in waves again, crashing into him and he had an overwhelming desire to get back in his car and just drive away. But then he realized he didn’t really have anywhere to go, and that he was tired, and that he knew he had to go in and talk to Tony if he had any hope of making it up to the man before it was too late.
So he forced himself to move, taking steps that didn’t feel too sure but were at least going in the right direction. The front door was unlocked, though that wouldn’t have mattered; he’d had a key since the end of the first month he and Tony had been seeing each other. He let himself in, dropping his pack on the floor next to Tony’s and took off his jacket. Jethro welcomed him home excitedly as always, and he bent over to love up the dog before he went any further. Jethro love was always a good way to calm his nerves. The dog was satisfied much quicker than Tim was unfortunately, and with a last lick to Tim’s face he trotted away and returned to the backyard through his very own door.
The smell of curry met him as he moved towards the kitchen at the back of the house, passing through the living room where boxes of take-out Indian food sat steaming on the coffee table. He could hear Tony making noise in the kitchen, so he continued on and found the other man rustling through the contents of a drawer.
“Hey,” Tony greeted him, finding what he’d been looking for and turning around. “Have fun down with Abby?” he asked easily, smiling as he reached for the bottle of white wine and started working on the cork.
“Yeah. The encryption was easy enough. Finding what we’re looking for is going to take time,” he replied, swallowing his unease.
Tony pulled the cork from the bottle, smiling. “We found nothing. Got less out of the afternoon than I got out of watching Battlefield Earth.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.” Tony poured the wine into two glasses, handed one to Tim, and walked out to the living room. “At least I had something to laugh at with the movie.” He sat down on the couch and started opening boxes, leaving Tim alone at the threshold between the two rooms, feeling kind of lost. “I got butter chicken, three servings of that Thai cabbage salad you eat by the pound, rice, and extra naan for me,” Tony said, glancing at Tim. They shared an almost shy grin at the joke; McGee had given up eating most bread, and Tony could never resist eating it in front of him and savoring every bite torturously.
Tony’s attention was back on the food, so Tim breathed deeply and joined him on the couch, toeing of his shoes and kicking them under the table. “You must have driven. You usually prefer something mild after a few hours in the car with Ziva.”
Tony chuckled. “Most of the time. But I had my heart set on curry, so Ziva had to suck it up. It’s time she learned to do that anyway.”
They hadn’t actually looked that closely at each other yet, and when Tony reached for the remote, Tim fought with himself to not stay silent. He was hungry, and knew that if he didn’t untie the knot in his stomach before he ate he’d be up all night popping Tums.
So he poked at the loaded plate Tony handed him for a few minutes while they both watched some black-and-white film on one of the movie channels. Tim had no idea what the film was, though he was sure Tony knew the title, the year it was released, the director, all of the stars, and the plot inside and out. This was often the case when they watched movies together, suffice it to say, and Tim had learned to love it when Tony expounded about whatever film they watched. He’d light up and talk for almost the entire movie and get excited about what was coming next, bringing Tim along with him for the ride.
But for the few minutes they sat silently watching, Tony never said a word, making the knot that much tighter. Tim managed a couple bites of the salad with its spicy dressing and one forkful of chicken and rice, his glass of wine sitting untouched on the table in front of them. The air between them was making Tim feel worse with every second, and he tried to find the right words to say, or any words to say. But they wouldn’t come.
“I’m sorry.”
That brought his focus away from his own anxiety, his eyes landing on the side of Tony’s face. The other man was still looking at the television. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one who insulted someone.”
“Yeah, me,” replied Tony, taking a sip of wine. “But then again, I was openly flirting with a beautiful woman in front of you. Even Ziva thought I was being an asshole, though she used some Hebrew word that I got the feeling was harsher than simply ‘asshole’.”
“Doesn’t mean I should have said that,” he said, kind of confused to be defending his right to apologize to the man he’d wronged and seemed to be trying to take all the responsibility for the situation.
“No, it doesn’t. She used a similar word to describe you and that remark. It was pretty spiteful, you know.”
He sighed. “I know.” He didn’t know what else to say, so settled for trying to take another bite of chicken.
Tony watched him, taking a bite from his own plate to fill the uncomfortable moment. Tim forced the food down his throat, swallowing loudly and almost choking after having not chewed it enough. He set his plate back on the table and turned towards Tony. “Why do you still do that? And do you do it when I’m not around?” He knew how insecure he sounded, but considering he felt insecure he figured it was just as well Tony knew it.
Tony shrugged, setting his own plate down. “No, that’s the first time I’ve flirted with a woman in a long time,” he reassured, then sighed. “It’s like an old suit, I guess.”
That made Tim frown. “I’m an old suit?”
The head-slap was his first answer. “Will you let me explain? And no, you’re not the old suit. She was.”
“What?” Now Tim was confused.
“Flirting with her is like an old, comfortable suit. Easy to put on and you have all of these memories stored in the pockets with the lint and the old receipts. You take it out and try it on from time to time, but you put it away and never wear it out because you’ve got a better suit, one that fits you a lot better and is much more comfortable and just makes you look good. The old suit makes you nostalgic, but that’s it. The real prize is that new one, and you begin to wonder why you even keep that old one anymore.”
All McGee could do was stare at Dinozzo, parsing out the metaphor. He was pretty sure he got the point, but he was having a hard time believing what Tony was saying. This was a man who could have about any woman or man eating out of his hand, almost literally, but somehow he was happy with this “suit” sitting next to him and considered his self the winner of some prize? The world was tilting on its axis; that was the only explanation.
Tony examined him closely, and grinned self-consciously. “You don’t believe me?”
“That I’m the prize in this equation? I don’t-know.”
“Well, believe it, accept it, live it. It’s a fact.” Tony slid closer to him, placing a hand on his knee and shaking it gently. “Somehow you ended up being fucking perfect for me in all the ways that count, and a lot of ways that I didn’t think did. NCIS made me feel like I’d finally found the right place. It fit me as well as I fit it. Then you toddled into my life-“
“Is that an oblique reference to me being overweight back then?” Tim asked suspiciously, knowing it wasn’t but force of habit made him ask.
“No, it’s an oblique reference to you being a bumbling baby Probie back then. And stop interrupting. Gibbs saw someone who would make an excellent investigator, but all I thought of was getting a Probie to call my own. And then it occurred to me maybe I’d been waiting for you like I’d been waiting for something like NCIS, it just took a lot longer than it should have before I figured it out. Before we figured it out.”
Tim could only gape at this point. Tony had never exactly been good at talking about attachments or relationships, least of all theirs. And that fact was according to the man himself. Neither one of them ever really waxed romantic, yet, in his Tony style, that’s exactly what the other man was doing. Tim still couldn’t figure out how his insult earlier had led to this; he was the one who should be explaining things, not the other way around.
“Stop thinking. Just listen. You aren’t the same McGee we met stationed at Norfolk who worked mainly by himself and was eager to please. He’s been gone for a long time. Gibbs put me through the a civilian version of boot camp for nearly two years before you showed up, and then I got to do the same with you. And watching you grow up to the hot little detective you are helped me grow up.
“And now I don’t have that feeling at the back of my neck that I always seem to have when I’m with someone. There’s no room for it because you fill me up in ways that I can’t describe, fill up all those gaps in my personality that always get me in trouble.” Tony trailed off, his face turning red, probably because he heard what he was saying.
So Tim rescued him, because that’s what they do. “You described pretty vividly how I fill you up to Ziva, Abby, Breena, and Palmer the other night.”
Tony glared, his previous indignity forgotten. “That was your fault. You said ‘fuck you’, and after that much to drink on empty stomachs, you should have known better. Besides, Ziva keeps giving me funny looks. I think we piqued her interest in more than just your prowess.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, feeling his own face grow warm at the memory of the fascinated smiles Ziva had sent his direction the next day in the office.
“And Abby wanted to compare notes.”
“Hey!”
“At least you’re still easy to freak out,” Tony said, smiling and letting Tim in on the joke.
“This isn’t the way this is supposed to go. I’m the one that said something that hurt you which was still unnecessary. I’m the one that should be telling you what you mean to me and trying to prove to you how sorry I am.” Tim still didn’t really understand why he was so upset by the fact that Tony was the one doing the most talking when he wasn’t the one in the wrong. “You’re the injured party here yet you’re the one doing the apologizing. It’s all backwards.”
“Oh, hey, no, I still fully expect you to make it up to me for what you said. Even Ziva’s on my side with this, and we both know how often that happens. But it’s not like I wasn’t being a total dick, and while I hardly think I deserved what you said, I know where it was coming from. I don’t even remember what the woman’s name was-“
“Angela,” Tim provided for him.
“-thank you, but she’s old suit. You’re the new suit. I promise, even if I take the old suit out from time to time, which after today is highly unlikely, I will always remember and prefer the nicely made one I get to go home to and that fits perfectly. And has a great ass.”
“The suit has a great ass?”
“Are you trying to piss me off, or just tired of the suit imagery?”
“It’s a nice suit?” Tim leaned toward him smirking, not really sick of the imagery but enjoying that he could still get Tony’s goat too.
“It’s a fucking Zegna, baby.” Tony met him half way, and they kissed, both chuckling. It was a quick kiss, and when they pulled apart they were still smiling at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Tim murmured out of compulsion. “I know I have no reason to worry.”
“No you don’t. But you wouldn’t be you if there wasn’t a little insecurity buried under all that bravado, irrational as it might be.”
“I have ‘bravado?’”
“Well, that was either bravado earlier, or you just really think I’m that much of a jackass,” Tony replied, making a face at him then turning serious again. “You don’t have any more reason to worry than I do, and I know how much I worry about screwing things up with you all the time. I think it’s kind of inevitable with two people as off kilter as we are.”
Tony reached for his dinner, handing Tim his at the same time. They started eating again, turning their attention back to the television. A few minutes passed, and then Tony was filling him on the movie, its title, the director, the stars, and by the last scenes Tim felt fully caught up with the plot and had managed to eat all of his food. He even stole a piece of the naan out of Tony’s hands, making a show of eating it without a care.
After the movie and a short session of necking on the couch, they cleaned up the leftovers and decided to go to bed early. They both knew that Gibbs had come out of that visit with the Sec-Nav displeased, which meant the earlier they got back to work the next day and got closer to whatever it was they were looking for, besides the missing Navy captain, the more likely they were to actually get sleep.
They took Jethro for a short walk around the neighborhood, chatting about the case they knew little about, holding hands in the safety of the dark night. They fed him when they got back, and got ready for bed. By the time they were climbing in, Jethro was already sacked out in one corner at the end of the bed, and Tony mentioned again how they really needed to go get a California king if three males were going to continue sleeping together every night. Tim didn’t say anything in reply, the significance of their earlier discussion rushing back in and forcing him to realize what Tony was really saying: ‘they’ needed to get a larger bed, not ‘he’.
Tony must have picked up on the swift reappearance of Tim’s unease, because he pulled him closer and wrapped himself around him. “I didn’t give you that key so your keys could have a new friend, you know.”
“What?” Tim asked, trying to sound collected and failing miserably.
“I gave you that key with the hopes of it becoming your key for our house at some point. And I have to say I’m mildly offended that I’m having to explain that to you,” Tony explained with a smile on his face, and Tim nodded.
“I love you,” he breathed, and for the first time without reservation. Not that he’d never said it before, but it felt like the first time he’d said it without an ounce of fear or hesitation. He had to admit it felt pretty fucking amazing. Perfect, really.
“I love you too,” Tony whispered, kissing him again. “Even if you can be a snarky bastard sometimes.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Says the man who compared me to a suit earlier.”
“An expensive and well-made suit, so stop whining. Considering you seem to be under the impression I’m still my old gigolo self-“
“I didn’t call you a gigolo! I wouldn’t even use that word,” Tim replied, lifting an eyebrow as he frowned at Tony.
“Whatever.” Tony kissed him again, and Tim’s frown melted away. “Mrs. Mallard called me that once, before threatening me with a knife she apparently hid in her ‘brassiere’,” Tony said, doing a bad job of faking the old woman’s voice and accent. “That was one interesting lady, wish we’d have gotten the chance to hang out with her more. She asked to see Kate’s underwear. It was awesome.”
Tim snorted at that, imagining the look on their late partner’s face at the question. They settled once again, holding each other tiredly, but Tim’s brain was still working. “Maybe it’s just a function of our both being men,” he hypothesized quietly.
“What’s a function of our both being men? Our dysfunction? Probably. I’m sure Kate’s sister would have some good theories. And you’re such a geek.”
“What’s new?” Tim pointed out.
“That’s the second time tonight you’ve referred to our relationship like it’s a math problem that needs figuring out.” Tony laid his head on Tim’s shoulder, kissing his skin. “I’m sorry, Tim.”
“I’m sorry too, Tony.”
They squeezed each other tightly for a second, and Tim could feel Tony’s fingers brushing lightly against his side while Tim was dragging his own up and down Tony’s back. They were an equation, he thought, an equation that took a lot of work to figure out, like doing statistics without a graphing calculator. One where the inferences changed all the time and the data collected was always up for interpretation. But McGee was good at math, always had been, and as he felt that last wave crest that would pull him into unconsciousness, he realized this whole thing wasn’t going to be as difficult as he’d thought it would be just a few hours ago. And after tonight, he felt sure their confidence interval was pretty small and that the chances this would work between them fell on the high side of the probability.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop thinking about us like we’re a math problem?” Tony mumbled. “I can feel you counting things out with your fingers against my back. Go to sleep.”
Yup, it was going to work.
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