7snogs: [NCIS] Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee, #3: glow
Title: Amoureux
Author: jack_infinitude
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash, World War II alternate universes.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
The partisans called Timothy aquila. The name made Antonio smile just a little, both because of the reference to Timothy's heritage and because he was not anything like an eagle, which was a truly stupid bird. If Antonio had his druthers, he would give Timothy another name, like volpe or lupo; because he was cunning, and fierce, and very, very brave. But Antonio was not there when Timothy had to be given a name, when fondness and sly humor had named him Aquila, and nothing could be done about it now.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching the younger man working on a lapboard, sitting in a shrinking patch of winter sunlight. It reminded him of the bookshop, when Timothy would balance the accounts at the end of each day. He even hunched his shoulders the same way, Antonio thought fondly, smiling just a little as the younger man's left hand stuttered on the map he was altering.
"I know you're there, Tony," Timothy said without looking up. "For God's sake, get in here and say hello."
"How do you always know?" he asked as he finally ventured into was called the Map Room. In reality, it was a storage closet that happened to have a window, and Timothy had appropriated it as his own soon after they claimed the area for the partisans. Antonio fetched up against the wall, and slid down on his rump next to his friend, craning his neck to see the map. Timothy straightened his legs out and let the design fall into the sunlight.
"You do good work," Antonio noted quietly. "Did Jethro sniff out those new mine fields?"
"He did." Pride was bright in his friend's voice. "I told you he wasn't useless."
Antonio straightened his spine and slid an arm across Timothy's shoulders. "Where is that mutt, anyway?"
"He's not a mutt. And Luigi took him out hunting. Maybe we'll have some conys for dinner." He leaned into Antonio's body, obviously seeking warmth. Antonio let out a little sigh and gave up trying to appear manly, pulling Timothy close.
"I don't know why you insist on working in here," he muttered against soft hair. "It's freezing cold, and you never see any of the women."
"I don't want to see the women. And they don't want to see me."
"Blasphemy. Bite your tongue. You're a novelty, of course they want to see you."
Timothy made an indelicate noise that Antonio would have called a snort in anyone else. "The novelty’s worn off by now. They’re really not that interested, I promise.”
“Hmm.” Antonio rubbed his chin against Timothy’s head thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?”
“Don’t you dare,” Timothy groaned. “I like being single, I don’t need to be attached.”
“Then what was all that complaining in Altamura? All that talk about not being able to hang on to a girl --”
“That wasn’t -- that was different. I didn’t know the things I do now.”
“Like what?” Antonio frowned when there was no reply. “Timothy?”
But his friend only pulled away. “I have to finish this map, okay?”
“What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing you said.”
“That can’t be true, I --”
“Tony, it’s not you. It’s not you, and it was never the girls. I’m the one with the problem.” A small shudder shook him. “Tony, please leave.”
Antonio considered this for perhaps a few seconds. Then he snatched the pen out of Timothy’s hand before he could put it to paper and took the lapboard and map away too, ignoring the indignant “hey!”
“I’ve just returned from mining bridges and blowing up tanks,” Antonio said. “I’m not here for three minutes before the conversation takes a turn for the worse, and you try to make me leave. I will not have it.” He cupped Timothy’s face with one hand and gently tugged it around so they could see each other’s eyes. Timothy’s were dim with fear, and it hit Antonio like a punch in the gut.
“I’ve missed you,” he confessed. Anything for Timothy to stop looking at him like he was the enemy. “The entire time I was out in the field, I thought about being home with you. Not here -- Altamura. Before the war began. When I could still leech off your hard earned money, and you wouldn’t throw me out when I drank too much.”
“I wanted you there,” Timothy said softly.
“I know. Though I can’t imagine why. But Timothy, I missed you. And I never thought I’d say that about anyone. Please, don’t push me away.” Antonio pressed his forehead against Timothy’s, just to drive the point home. He shut his eyes, thinking about the long nights spent missing his only friend -- missing his easy English, his peculiar mixture of American and Italian idiom, that shy smile.
Six months spent away. Summer had been in full swing when they parted, and now it was almost Christmas.
“I haven’t seen you for so long,” he croaked.
Timothy made a small sound like a sob, and then his long fingers were pressing against Antonio’s neck, tracing his jaw and lower lip, and then --
Mouth. Timothy’s mouth. Pressed against his. Antonio had only a moment to take in this new marvel before Timothy was trying to climb into his lap and perform a tonsillectomy at the same time.
It was easy to have Timothy in his lap. It was easy to let his mouth be ravaged by that bubblegum tongue. It was easy to cling to Timothy’s waist with both hands, to let himself be swept away by all that pent up passion. Easy, easy, as easy as he had ever wanted it to be.
When they parted, they were both breathing hard. Timothy’s eyes had lost their fear, and it felt like something bright inside Antonio’s mind was singing.
He curled a hand around Timothy’s neck, pulled him down for another kiss. This was worth it all. The blood and pain and terror and death -- it was worth it all if they could have this.
Author: jack_infinitude
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash, World War II alternate universes.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
The partisans called Timothy aquila. The name made Antonio smile just a little, both because of the reference to Timothy's heritage and because he was not anything like an eagle, which was a truly stupid bird. If Antonio had his druthers, he would give Timothy another name, like volpe or lupo; because he was cunning, and fierce, and very, very brave. But Antonio was not there when Timothy had to be given a name, when fondness and sly humor had named him Aquila, and nothing could be done about it now.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching the younger man working on a lapboard, sitting in a shrinking patch of winter sunlight. It reminded him of the bookshop, when Timothy would balance the accounts at the end of each day. He even hunched his shoulders the same way, Antonio thought fondly, smiling just a little as the younger man's left hand stuttered on the map he was altering.
"I know you're there, Tony," Timothy said without looking up. "For God's sake, get in here and say hello."
"How do you always know?" he asked as he finally ventured into was called the Map Room. In reality, it was a storage closet that happened to have a window, and Timothy had appropriated it as his own soon after they claimed the area for the partisans. Antonio fetched up against the wall, and slid down on his rump next to his friend, craning his neck to see the map. Timothy straightened his legs out and let the design fall into the sunlight.
"You do good work," Antonio noted quietly. "Did Jethro sniff out those new mine fields?"
"He did." Pride was bright in his friend's voice. "I told you he wasn't useless."
Antonio straightened his spine and slid an arm across Timothy's shoulders. "Where is that mutt, anyway?"
"He's not a mutt. And Luigi took him out hunting. Maybe we'll have some conys for dinner." He leaned into Antonio's body, obviously seeking warmth. Antonio let out a little sigh and gave up trying to appear manly, pulling Timothy close.
"I don't know why you insist on working in here," he muttered against soft hair. "It's freezing cold, and you never see any of the women."
"I don't want to see the women. And they don't want to see me."
"Blasphemy. Bite your tongue. You're a novelty, of course they want to see you."
Timothy made an indelicate noise that Antonio would have called a snort in anyone else. "The novelty’s worn off by now. They’re really not that interested, I promise.”
“Hmm.” Antonio rubbed his chin against Timothy’s head thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?”
“Don’t you dare,” Timothy groaned. “I like being single, I don’t need to be attached.”
“Then what was all that complaining in Altamura? All that talk about not being able to hang on to a girl --”
“That wasn’t -- that was different. I didn’t know the things I do now.”
“Like what?” Antonio frowned when there was no reply. “Timothy?”
But his friend only pulled away. “I have to finish this map, okay?”
“What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing you said.”
“That can’t be true, I --”
“Tony, it’s not you. It’s not you, and it was never the girls. I’m the one with the problem.” A small shudder shook him. “Tony, please leave.”
Antonio considered this for perhaps a few seconds. Then he snatched the pen out of Timothy’s hand before he could put it to paper and took the lapboard and map away too, ignoring the indignant “hey!”
“I’ve just returned from mining bridges and blowing up tanks,” Antonio said. “I’m not here for three minutes before the conversation takes a turn for the worse, and you try to make me leave. I will not have it.” He cupped Timothy’s face with one hand and gently tugged it around so they could see each other’s eyes. Timothy’s were dim with fear, and it hit Antonio like a punch in the gut.
“I’ve missed you,” he confessed. Anything for Timothy to stop looking at him like he was the enemy. “The entire time I was out in the field, I thought about being home with you. Not here -- Altamura. Before the war began. When I could still leech off your hard earned money, and you wouldn’t throw me out when I drank too much.”
“I wanted you there,” Timothy said softly.
“I know. Though I can’t imagine why. But Timothy, I missed you. And I never thought I’d say that about anyone. Please, don’t push me away.” Antonio pressed his forehead against Timothy’s, just to drive the point home. He shut his eyes, thinking about the long nights spent missing his only friend -- missing his easy English, his peculiar mixture of American and Italian idiom, that shy smile.
Six months spent away. Summer had been in full swing when they parted, and now it was almost Christmas.
“I haven’t seen you for so long,” he croaked.
Timothy made a small sound like a sob, and then his long fingers were pressing against Antonio’s neck, tracing his jaw and lower lip, and then --
Mouth. Timothy’s mouth. Pressed against his. Antonio had only a moment to take in this new marvel before Timothy was trying to climb into his lap and perform a tonsillectomy at the same time.
It was easy to have Timothy in his lap. It was easy to let his mouth be ravaged by that bubblegum tongue. It was easy to cling to Timothy’s waist with both hands, to let himself be swept away by all that pent up passion. Easy, easy, as easy as he had ever wanted it to be.
When they parted, they were both breathing hard. Timothy’s eyes had lost their fear, and it felt like something bright inside Antonio’s mind was singing.
He curled a hand around Timothy’s neck, pulled him down for another kiss. This was worth it all. The blood and pain and terror and death -- it was worth it all if they could have this.