Fic: "I Promise" Tony/Tim, Adult
Title: I Promise.
Pairing: Tony/Tim
Rating: Adult.
Length: ~5600
Disclaimer: I own nothing herein but the words, because human trafficking was illegal the last time I checked.
Warning(s): Post-Aliyah, set early summer. Sex/angst/some bad launguage.
Summary: DiNozzo and McGee come together again to deal with a loss they didn't understand.
Author's Notes: I'll keep this as short as I can. First NCIS fic. Started it before 7.01, finished the next day. Had to get help with how to post to LJ and to the comm. Also, I'm probably a rarity in that, while I have a favorite, I'm actually accepting of almost any pairing in NCIS, het or slash, save for a couple. And in here you may see that. I was kind of surprised that, after the first viewing of ToC that my story didn't derail from canon to far, not like that matters. So, reviews and critiques are welcome, and I hope you enjoy!!
I Promise
McGee watched as DiNozzo walked to his car, noticing the slow steps and the movement of the man’s right shoulder as he seemed to work a kink out of it. Tony had been without the sling for his broken arm for a couple of days, after more than two weeks of wearing it, though the cast was still present. The older agent had been left to mostly desk duty and a few field interviews since his injury, and strangely, Tim hadn’t seen him whine about it once. Which in and of itself was strange, but add to that the lack of humor he was known for, and the fact he hadn’t quoted a movie in weeks, McGee found himself growing more and more concerned about his coworker and friend.
Not that they weren’t all out of sorts in some way or another. There was a definite lack of lightness in the bullpen, in the lab, even in autopsy - decidedly the most sedate section of NCIS headquarters. But everyone was feeling the loss of one of their own. With Ziva gone, and an empty desk as an obvious daily reminder, and that much more work for them all to do, a cloud had settled over the bullpen and didn’t seem to be moving on any time soon.
“Hey, Tony,” he called out suddenly, moving around his car and jogging over to the other man.
Turning around at the sound of his name, Tony nodded once at his approaching partner. “What’s up, McGoo?” he inquired, smiling tiredly.
The two men looked at each other for a moment. McGee noticed the weariness and hollow appearance in the older man’s eyes, and wondered if DiNozzo saw the same thing in him. “It’s Friday.”
“Why, yes it is,” Tony replied, glancing down quickly then returning his eyes to Tim’s. “Got any plans?”
Keeping his own eyes locked with Tony’s, he shook his head and said, “Nope. You up for some company?”
Two sets of green eyes remained on each other for another moment, until Tony sighed, shrugging. He dropped his gaze and stared at the concrete below them, and Tim waited. This code they were speaking in hadn’t been spoken in a long while, nearly ten months as a matter of fact. Only a week after his agent afloat assignment had been called short, Tony had asked Tim the exact same question. And he’d given the answer he was hoping he’d receive momentarily.
Sighing deeply again and raising his head back up, Tony smiled softly. “Yeah, I think so.”
Smiling softly himself, Tim nodded. “Should I get us some dinner?”
“Only if it’s pizza, easy clean-up.”
“And some alcohol to drown it with?” Tim added.
Tony nodded. “My place, in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Did I not tell you two to go home?” Gibbs was about twenty feet away, unlocking his car and looking at his two agents closely over the top of his yellow Charger.
“Yeah, Boss,” the two men said, shooting a look at their leader. “We’re going,” Tim amended, glancing one last time at his partner before returning to his car. He listened as Tony got into his own, and looked again at his boss, sending a quick “G’night” his way before stepping into the Porsche.
As he pulled out, he pretended not to pick up on the knowing look on Gibbs’ face as he followed Tony out of the parking garage, pretended not to notice the sadness there, and wondered how he was dealing with the loss of their co-worker and friend.
**********
Fifty-five minutes later, carrying a large pizza box with a medium-sized paper bag on top of it, Tim knocked on Tony’s door. He’d run home to change out of his work clothes, forgoing a shower out of a desire to just get there already. Calling Sarah, he was relieved she’d agreed to watch Jethro for the night, even if she had whined about it for most of the drive over to Tony’s. He chuckled to himself when he thought about how much he just wanted to get inside and be with the other man, not concerned with what may or may not happen tonight, or how his sister had bribed him into buying her a new iPod.
After knocking a second time, he tried the knob, somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. He entered quietly, calling out for the apartment’s occupant. Hearing nothing but quiet music in the background, he moved to the kitchen and set the box on the counter then moved the paper bag into the fridge.
“Tony?” he tried again, moving farther into the apartment. The living room was empty, though the plasma was on and apparently muted, lending light to the darkened space. He continued over to the second door off of the living room. It was open, and ducking his head into the room, he noticed Tony sitting on his bed, staring at his cell phone.
“Hey,” he called, barely above a whisper.
The other man turned his head slowly, a sad smile on his face. “Hey there.” He stood then, coming to stand close to Tim in the doorway, the phone gripped tightly in his right hand, the left coming up to scratch the side of his head. As if noticing it for the first time, Tony stared at the cast, flexing his fingers and turning his hand over. “Can’t wait to get this damn thing off,” he muttered.
Tim chuckled. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you complain about that, hell, about anything in the last few weeks.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around the cast, right where Tony’s wrist would be. “Still hurt?”
“Not really,” the other man shrugged. “Except when I whack it against something like I did in Abby’s lab. That hurt like a motherfucker.” Both men snickered, recalling the string of curses that had come out of his mouth that afternoon. “Shocked the hell out of Palmer. You’d think the guy’d never heard some of those words before.”
“Perhaps not so colorfully used,” Tim said in Jimmy’s defense. His hand still held Tony’s wrapped wrist, and he pulled on it gently, moving them both from the doorway they’d been standing in and farther into the living room. Tony followed docilely, allowing himself to be lead towards the couch, which bothered Tim. DiNozzo seemed so out of it, too quiet and sad, and Tim hated it.
“You hungry?” he asked once they were sitting on the couch, facing each other, Tony still staring at his casted arm which was in turn still held by Tim’s hand. Another moment of silence passed between the two of them, allowing the music, which Tim finally recognized as Nina Simone, to surround them. He sighed inwardly, knowing that while Tony loved her, he rarely broke out those albums, and then only for special reasons.
Finally, Tony shook himself out of his fugue, raising his head and nodding. “Yeah, let’s eat.” But neither of them moved for a moment, simply smiling at each other. Tony turned his left arm over slowly, wincing at the pain, and grasped Tim’s fingers with his own. “Movie?”
Tim nodded, standing reluctantly, releasing his fingers at the last possible moment. He knew they both needed to eat something tonight, having been too distracted at lunch trying to pull together information for a case. “I got Coronas and a bottle of Tequila.”
That earned him a look. “Since when do you drink Tequila, Probie?”
“Since I learned I actually like it, which shocked me too. Blame Sarah.” He walked into the kitchen, pulling some plates out of the cabinet they were housed in, placing a couple pieces of the pie on each, and carried them into the living room, setting them on the small table there. “Yes, I got drunk with Sarah. And yes, I’m shocked I did too.”
Laughing quietly, Tony shook his head at him. “You surprise me, McGee. Drinking with the baby sister.” He was leaning forward, grabbing a piece off his plate and biting off more than a third of it, as only he would.
Back in the kitchen, Tim answered him. “Yeah, well, she thought it would be a great way for us to bond. Or she just wanted to see me plastered. I’m not really sure.” He grabbed a couple of shot glasses and the bag out of the fridge. “All I know is she says she wants us to do it more often.”
When he returned to the living room, he saw that Tony had relinquished his cell, and it was now resting next to the lamp at the end of the couch.
“Please let me be there the next time you drink with your sister,” Tony said through a smirk.
“Why?”
“Because I can only imagine what you talk about when you’re blitzed with Sarah. Probably novels and computer games.”
Tim snorted indelicately, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to even consider what might happen with you and my sister with the addition of alcohol.” He reached out for his own plate and snatched a piece of pizza, so he missed the small flash of hurt that crossed his friend’s face.
Once he turned back, he caught the last of Tony’s frown. “What’s wrong?” Tony simply shrugged, taking another bite. “Wait, no. I trust you around Sarah, I don’t trust HER. I’ve told you the stories, and she talks about ‘Agent Tommy’ like he’s real. It’s starting to freak me out, actually.”
This time, Tony barked out a laugh, covering his mouth so as not to lose the bite of food he’d just taken. “Should I be worried?” he asked, still sniggering.
“Ha, no, I think your virtue is safe with her. As long as she’s sober, that is.”
“She really that bad when she’s drunk?”
“Nah, I guess not. But I worry about her. She’s my little sister, and most of the evidence points to her not being able to handle her liquor.”
“And yet you still drink with her from time to time.”
“No, twice. First time after we all got split up, second, about….a week ago.” Tim sighed, seeing Tony nodding. Trying to refocus the topic before it got too deep, he continued. “I’m trying not to make a habit of it.”
“Probably a good idea,” Tony agreed. “So, what should we put on the tube to stare at mindlessly for a few hours?” He stood up and walked to the bookcase filled with DVDs. “I’m thinking something we’ve both seen a few times that we can both just zone out to.”
“Which leaves, what, Star Wars or Lord of the Rings? I can’t think of something we’ve both seen enough of to zone out to.” Tim reached into the bag and grabbed a Corona. “Want one?”
“Sure,” Tony answered after checking over his shoulder. “So, four, five, or six, or Fellowship, Tower, or Return?”
Five minutes later, the two men settled deeper into Tony’s couch, having gotten each more pizza and a shot of Tequila. As the evening drew on, they watched as the Empire seemed to get the upper hand on the Rebellion, saying little and neither paying much attention to what was on the television.
**********
At approximately the same time Luke Skywalker was discovering the true identity of Darth Vader, Tim set his final bottle of Corona back in the six-pack carrier it had come from. Resting back again, he glanced to his right, eyeing his companion as he lay sprawled in the far corner of the sofa. Tony’s right leg was stretched out in front of him on the floor, his left was bent, knee resting on the couch between them. He was turned slightly towards Tim, his eyes glued blankly to the screen. Tim could just see the other man’s cell phone on the small side table just over his shoulder. Even he got his hopes up every time Tony answered it when they were together, hoping it would be the call they were all waiting for.
Gibbs had told them about Ziva’s request that either she or DiNozzo be transferred to another team, and how he had simply said goodbye after her not-so-subtle ultimatum. Her desk still sat empty across from all of them at the office. Vance had backed off for the first week after the Tel Aviv trip, only just starting to put real pressure on Gibbs to replace her.
Both he and DiNozzo had nodded when Gibbs had glanced at them after the Director’s most recent reminder of their being a member down, but nothing had been said. What was there to say? They were a member down, a friend down, and Tim felt the hole as deeply as he had after they lost Kate. And Ziva wasn’t dead, just half a world away.
Yet Tim had yet to find it in himself to give in to the hope of ever seeing her again. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Not knowing what had actually happened with the Michael Rivkin debacle, even considering what Tony had said after their return from Israel, made things difficult. DiNozzo had gotten Director David to basically admit having played his own daughter, in a roundabout fashion, to getting her involved without her knowledge. Tim wanted nothing more than to believe that it was true, that Ziva hadn’t known what was going on, and he did, in the end.
But too much had happened, there were too many secrets, too much tension and anger, and no answers. Tim hadn’t been in the midst of it like the man sitting next to him, but he had felt the giant ripples that had been created, had felt the fall-out that had been wearing them all thin the last few months. And no one as thin as Tony DiNozzo.
Tim had begun wondering about his teammates for almost two years, catching the looks, the heated arguments, the strain in the usual playfulness that showed up from time to time. And he’d noticed, when it had become obvious that Ziva was linked to Michael, if only apparently romantically, that DiNozzo had begun pulling into himself. And that alone had gotten McGee’s hackles up.
And that had brought him to make the offer of companionship he’d made tonight.
Tony’s left arm was resting on the back of the couch, his fingers just inches away from Tim’s shoulder. He could hear Tony’s fingernails as they scratched at the fabric, making him want to grab the hand and still it.
That was when Tim realized the DVD had reverted back to the main menu, and he had no idea how long he’d been distracted with his thoughts. Turning his head towards the other man, he found Tony looking at him. They stared at each other for a few long moments, Tim trying to decipher what was going on behind the green eyes so like his own.
“Movie’s over,” DiNozzo mumbled, smirking. “You were on another planet, there, weren’t yah, Probie?”
Tim returned the smirk. “Apparently.” He turned his body towards the other man, mirroring his position, hiking his right leg on to the cushion between them. “Do you even know what you felt for her? Feel for her?”
The question was out before he could stop it, and yet he didn’t really want to pull it back. He was genuinely curious, because he had been asking himself the same question for a while.
Tony looked away, back to the television as the menu restarted its cycle. Tim knew he wasn’t avoiding the inquiry; he’d become accustomed to the other man’s techniques of avoidance, and quiet contemplation wasn’t one of them.
“Do you know how you feel for her?” Giving himself time, on the other hand, was an avoidance technique, but Tim wasn’t put off by it.
“No, other than I feel like I lost a big part of my life when she didn’t come back.”
Nodding, bringing his gaze back, Tony replied, “Feel the same way. But, honestly, beyond that, no, I don’t know what I feel.”
“Do you think you love her?”
“I have no idea. And I’m not sure if it really matters.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s not here. And I don’t know if she ever will be. And I have no idea if she’ll ever trust me again.”
That was the clincher, Tim thought. That was the most important point, trust. “Do you trust her?”
This time, Tony looked at his left hand, the one that still bore evidence of the act that possibly cost him the trust he felt he’d lost. His fingers started their scratching again, and this time Tim did reach with his right hand and grasped his friend’s, bringing it down to rest on their nearly touching knees. “Tony, you told me that her father had essentially admitted to pushing Rivkin on her. And that you went to her apartment to figure out what was going on. You didn’t go over there with any other intention than possibly protecting her from whatever she might need protection from. You allowed her to push you to the ground and hold a gun on you in anger.”
“And I’m still trying to figure out how much she wanted to pull the trigger.”
Both men fell silent at that, staring at their joined hands. Tim realized he was lightly massaging Tony’s fingers with his own, tracing them with the tips lightly. Bringing his other hand from where it had been resting on his left leg, he used it to cradle Tony’s, using those fingers to rub gently on his palm.
“I wish I had an answer for you, McGee. I really do. Because then I might have a fucking clue what I feel for her.” Tony barely whispered those words, the pain and confusion obvious in his tone.
They sat silently for a bit, Tony sitting up straighter and inching closer. Tim could feel the heat coming from the other man, and allowed his left hand to be taken by Tony’s right, fingers intertwining, thumbs moving against each other. He lifted his eyes to the face opposite his, and saw the handsome face in the dim light. The pain was evident, as was the confusion, but what Tim was surprised to see was resignation.
“You don’t think she’s coming back.”
Shaking his head, Tony squeezed their joined hands tightly. “No, I don’t.”
And that’s when Tim decided to pull his partner closer. After a few careful movements to resituate themselves, Tony was lying on top of him, injured arm on his shoulder and face above his. Again, they just looked at each other for a moment, then somebody moved, though who instigated it Tim couldn’t be sure, and they were kissing.
Any other thoughts he’d had disappeared at that point. The only thing on his mind was the feel of Tony’s lips on his, how his long body felt against his body, how the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck felt against his fingers, how Tony’s tongue felt in his mouth. It was slow and tender, lasting until Tony pulled away and rested his forehead on Tim’s. They breathed together, touching lightly, their eyes closed.
“You okay down there?” Tony asked, dropping a quick kiss before giving Tim a chance to answer.
“Yeah,” he assured him, realizing how okay he was in this position. When they’d been together in the past, it had never been with this haze of sorrow surrounding them. Stress, yes; fear, definitely. But this kind of ache, of losing something they weren’t even sure how to define, was new, and Tim realized how much he just wanted to forget for a night.
Ten months ago, it had been because Tony was back on dry land after four months at sea, after four months of the older man dealing with guilt Tim felt he didn’t deserve to carry; alone, after the team being unceremoniously ripped apart at the seams. When he had told Gibbs how he would rather be working with he and Ziva again, he had left Tony out intentionally, thinking that part went without saying. He’d shrugged it off, when Gibbs had added DiNozzo to the list, acting as if Tony was an afterthought.
Tony was the farthest thing from an afterthought.
“Come back to me, McGee.” He blinked, looking up into the eyes of the man above him. “You here?”
He smiled. “Yup. I’m here.” And he pulled Tony’s lips back to his.
Soon, though, lips and light touches weren’t enough, and the couch was quickly becoming entirely too small for their long bodies. He helped Tony push himself up, not wanting him to put extra weight on his broken arm, and then allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He was lead into Tony’s bedroom, and there they again kissed, Tim helping Tony out of his work shirt, being careful of the cast, then took his own shirt off, pulling the other man back to him.
They continued kissing as Tim toed off his shoes, as they slid then kicked off their pants and shorts, and stood naked next to the bed and simply ran their hands over each other.
Pulling apart was becoming more of a task, and Tim was panting when they did. “Lie down,” he softly ordered his partner. Tony did as he was told, pushing the covers out of the way then looking back. Tim settled next to him on the bed, pressing on his shoulder to make him lay flat and get any weight off his left arm. “Stay off that damn thing, will you?”
Tony chuckled, acquiescing while pulling Tim over with him. “You may have to do a lot of the work tonight, Probie. What with the gimpy arm and everything.”
Smiling, he replied, “I’d already figured that part out. Think you can handle that?”
“Definitely.” And their lips met again.
Moving his hands down Tony’s sides, Tim dropped his mouth to his neck, sucking lightly, running his tongue along the collar bone. They moved against each other, Tony hard against Tim’s hip, his right hand squeezing the back of his head, his left laying on the bed beside them.
Tim nuzzled down the middle of Tony’s chest, dropping soft lips at random points. He could feel Tony’s left arm quaking next to him, wanting to move and join in. Pushing himself to his knees, straddling the other man’s waist, he reached for the injured arm, bringing the fingers there to his mouth. He kissed the tips, and began massaging the palm, reaching up just underneath the plaster, putting just enough pressure to caress but not to hurt. Tony watched him closely, with a small grin on his face, and he felt his hand on his hip.
“You sure are paying a lot of attention to that hand.”
“I don’t want it to feel completely left out.” Tim slowly sucked the index finger into his mouth, running his tongue along the skin and nail, keeping his gaze locked on Tony.
Groaning softly, Tony smiled brighter. “Well, I can tell you, it appreciates that.”
Tim snorted, and let the finger fall from his lips. “Glad I can be of service.” He set Tony’s arm back on the bed and leaned over to seal their lips together again, then pulled away, moving backwards.
Tony groaned as Tim did the same thing to his cock that he’d just done to his finger. Tim smiled around his mouthful, enjoying the sound he’d dragged out of his partner. He squeezed Tony’s hips, feeling as they flexed and rolled upwards, trying to press deeper.
A hand settled itself on his head and gripped lightly, twisting in the short spikes there, no pressure, just a touch. Using his tongue on the underside of Tony’s cock as he pulled back, he smiled again, dropping a quick kiss to the head then moved up, bringing his lips back to the other man’s. The hand on his head held him in place, and he felt the hard, scratchy surface of the cast against his back. Tony was wrapped around him, and his movements were becoming more desperate.
“Hold on,” Tim whispered, reaching for the bottom drawer of the nightstand, Tony’s encased arm still running up and down his back. Upon finding the bottle of lubrication and box of condoms, he returned to his previous position, settling himself between his partner’s legs. “Are you sure about this?” he inquired, holding Tony’s face with his hands.
Tony nodded his head, speaking softly. “Yes, very sure. I know I need to not think for at least a little while. And I know you do too.”
Sighing deeply, Tim kissed him again, and then moved to lie on the bed beside him. He reached for the bottle, and began preparing Tony.
After only a few minutes, Tim was opening the condom and pulling it on himself, applying the lube, and shifting back onto Tony. Making love face to face wasn’t something they usually did, but this was not like the other times. It was more than two friends needing ‘companionship’. Tonight was about trying to mend two broken hearts, about finding solace in another human being. How they’d gotten here, having sex, to making love, as part of their friendship, Tim couldn’t say. And he resigned himself to thinking about it later, someday, when he wasn’t feeling as lost as he was, as lost he knew Tony was.
The man’s legs moved to wrap around his waist, and Tim pushed a pillow under Tony’s waist. Their eyes met again as he buried himself deeply. He knew they both savored these moments, when they were a part of each other, inside of each other, bodies growing slick, hands clutching, legs quaking, mouths joined. Tim had his arms under Tony’s shoulders, using the grip for leverage, while Tony’s own moved constantly, over his shoulders, down his back, reaching down to grasp his ass. The ever-present cast was an unfortunate reminder of recent events, and its texture as it rubbed at his skin simply pushed him further, harder into Tony’s body.
It lasted much longer than Tim thought it would. There was no rush to the finish, there was no urgency to come, only a desire to touch and feel and love. If he’d been able to actually think, the last emotion would have caught him, possibly slowed him down. But all he could see was his friend’s face, feel the tightness around his cock, hear the grunts and moans they were both releasing.
Tony’s right hand ran down his chest, massaging his pectorals, pinching then moving back up to pet his face and hair. Tim turned his head to kiss the palm, bringing his own hand up and catching the other, lacing their fingers together, moving their joined hands to the pillow near Tony’s head.
“You okay?” he asked, levering himself up slightly.
Tony only nodded jerkily, his body undulating in a way that made Tim realize it was getting to be too much, for both of them. He began pumping harder into the other body, using his slightly raised position to push deeper. Tony’s eyes were tightly shut, his mouth open just enough to let out harsh breaths, and sweat was dripping down his face and neck. Tim could feel his own body growing tighter, slicker, as he was propelled towards the end.
When Tony cried out, a rasping sound that Tim could feel in his own chest, he slammed into him brutally one time, his body held in place by the other man’s. They were frozen for a moment, locked in a place that Tim was sure neither wanted to escape, a place where everything was silent and settled, where it was just the two of them, and whatever had been on their minds was blessedly absent.
Feeling the subtle contractions around his dick, Tim sucked in a deep breath, opening the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. He focused on the face below him, finding the same tired, blank look on Tony’s face he was sure was on his own. Their still clasped hands released, and Tim brought his back to the face he found so enthralling. Right now, it was lax, wet, and rough. It was a face that was hard to look away from at nearly every other moment of the day; it was impossible to look away at this moment in time.
Tim watched as Tony swallowed a few times, watched as he tried to force his throat to speak. Still moving slowly in and out of him, he leaned down and dragged his tongue up that long column and across the strong jaw and finally to the beautiful mouth. Tony’s hands came up to frame his face again, angling it and joining in the kiss. It was lazy and long, and ended only when Tim realized he might finally be getting too heavy for the other man.
Pulling back, he eased out of his friend and fell to the safe side, the one opposite the broken arm. Tony turned with him, still holding his face between his palms. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “Just let me get something to wipe up with, okay?”
Smiling, Tony dropped his hands. “Quick,” he muttered. Tim pecked on the forehead, then went to the bath off the bedroom, depositing the used condom in the garbage then wetting a washcloth and grabbing a towel.
Walking back into the room, wiping his own stomach down, he looked at the man on the bed, finding him watching also. The smile was still in place, though he hadn’t moved in the few seconds he’d been alone. Tony allowed Tim to wipe him down, then grabbed the towel and sat up, using it to rub the sweat off of Tim’s upper body and face. He did the same to himself, dropping the towel to the floor beside the bed and dragged Tim back down.
They ended up lying on their sides facing each other, Tony’s broken left arm settled on Tim’s hip, Tim’s right drawing small figures on Tony’s shoulder. “I’ve never understood why we’ve never….” Tony started quietly and trailed off, but Tim understood.
“I don’t either. Like everything else, it’s too fucking complicated, I guess.”
“Well, that just sucks.”
“I agree whole-heartedly,” Tim stated, moving to kiss him.
Like the others, this meeting of lips lasted a while, and they pulled each other closer, intertwining their legs and wrapping arms around each other. Rolling himself backwards, Tim had Tony partially settled on top of him when they broke apart, in much the same position they’d been in on the couch, foreheads touching, breathing together, not looking at each other, just simply holding on.
“Should we try?” He barely heard the whisper, even coming from mere inches from his ears. His chest tightened at the question, making him wince. When Tony flinched in reaction, he hugged him closer.
“No, don’t. I just think this may not be the right time for either one of us to even think about something like this.”
“You mean you aren’t thinking it?” Tony’s words had little to no inflection in them, and Tim sighed.
“Of course I am,” he whispered in reply. “But I also remember what we talked about earlier tonight, and this wouldn’t erase any of it, for either of us.”
Tony closed his eyes and dropped his head to Tim’s neck, blowing out gently and causing a few goose bumps to rise. Turning to touch his lips to the other man’s temple, Tim added, “Besides, Gibbs would kill us, Abby would want to watch, and then there’s that whole ‘Ladies Man’ façade you’ve got to keep up.”
Fortunately, that earned him the chuckle he’d been going for. “God you piss me off sometimes,” Tony mumbled as he pushed himself back from his neck. “You’re supposed to be the Probie. I should be explaining this shit to you, not the other way around.”
“Get over yourself, DiNozzo. You totally know who the mature one is in this bed.”
“Tim, can we just kind of hide out this weekend?” The sudden gear change caught him by surprise, and when he looked, he saw the question for what it was. Tony wanted to pretend, at least for a couple of days. And he realized he wanted the same thing.
Wanted to pretend that Ziva was here. Wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, that they knew the answers to all the questions asked earlier, why they’d never tried to be together as more than fuck-buddies or friends with benefits. Maybe a weekend would be enough, provided they got that weekend.
“Yeah, sure, I think that would be good.” He smiled when he caught the relief in the green eyes that looked so intensely at him. “On one condition.”
Tony looked at him skeptically, raising one eyebrow dramatically. “What?” he asked suspiciously.
“You let me bring Jethro over tomorrow. I’d called Sarah to watch him, but she’ll kill me if I leave him with her all weekend.”
Rolling his eyes, Tony grumbled his answer. “Sure, but I have a condition, then, too.”
“What?”
Serious again, Tony kissed him, then pulled back. “That this isn’t the last time. Even if it’s the second to last, or whatever, I don’t want this to be it, okay?”
Tim had a hard time finding the words to answer him. The anguish in the words and voice tore through him, and all he could do was pull Tony to him tightly. Things weren’t any better; in fact they were probably worse, if the ache in his own heart meant anything. He knew the answer, and it was the answer that Tony wanted, but he had to find a reserve of strength he wasn’t sure he had to say them.
"This won’t be the last time. I promise.”
Pairing: Tony/Tim
Rating: Adult.
Length: ~5600
Disclaimer: I own nothing herein but the words, because human trafficking was illegal the last time I checked.
Warning(s): Post-Aliyah, set early summer. Sex/angst/some bad launguage.
Summary: DiNozzo and McGee come together again to deal with a loss they didn't understand.
Author's Notes: I'll keep this as short as I can. First NCIS fic. Started it before 7.01, finished the next day. Had to get help with how to post to LJ and to the comm. Also, I'm probably a rarity in that, while I have a favorite, I'm actually accepting of almost any pairing in NCIS, het or slash, save for a couple. And in here you may see that. I was kind of surprised that, after the first viewing of ToC that my story didn't derail from canon to far, not like that matters. So, reviews and critiques are welcome, and I hope you enjoy!!
I Promise
McGee watched as DiNozzo walked to his car, noticing the slow steps and the movement of the man’s right shoulder as he seemed to work a kink out of it. Tony had been without the sling for his broken arm for a couple of days, after more than two weeks of wearing it, though the cast was still present. The older agent had been left to mostly desk duty and a few field interviews since his injury, and strangely, Tim hadn’t seen him whine about it once. Which in and of itself was strange, but add to that the lack of humor he was known for, and the fact he hadn’t quoted a movie in weeks, McGee found himself growing more and more concerned about his coworker and friend.
Not that they weren’t all out of sorts in some way or another. There was a definite lack of lightness in the bullpen, in the lab, even in autopsy - decidedly the most sedate section of NCIS headquarters. But everyone was feeling the loss of one of their own. With Ziva gone, and an empty desk as an obvious daily reminder, and that much more work for them all to do, a cloud had settled over the bullpen and didn’t seem to be moving on any time soon.
“Hey, Tony,” he called out suddenly, moving around his car and jogging over to the other man.
Turning around at the sound of his name, Tony nodded once at his approaching partner. “What’s up, McGoo?” he inquired, smiling tiredly.
The two men looked at each other for a moment. McGee noticed the weariness and hollow appearance in the older man’s eyes, and wondered if DiNozzo saw the same thing in him. “It’s Friday.”
“Why, yes it is,” Tony replied, glancing down quickly then returning his eyes to Tim’s. “Got any plans?”
Keeping his own eyes locked with Tony’s, he shook his head and said, “Nope. You up for some company?”
Two sets of green eyes remained on each other for another moment, until Tony sighed, shrugging. He dropped his gaze and stared at the concrete below them, and Tim waited. This code they were speaking in hadn’t been spoken in a long while, nearly ten months as a matter of fact. Only a week after his agent afloat assignment had been called short, Tony had asked Tim the exact same question. And he’d given the answer he was hoping he’d receive momentarily.
Sighing deeply again and raising his head back up, Tony smiled softly. “Yeah, I think so.”
Smiling softly himself, Tim nodded. “Should I get us some dinner?”
“Only if it’s pizza, easy clean-up.”
“And some alcohol to drown it with?” Tim added.
Tony nodded. “My place, in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Did I not tell you two to go home?” Gibbs was about twenty feet away, unlocking his car and looking at his two agents closely over the top of his yellow Charger.
“Yeah, Boss,” the two men said, shooting a look at their leader. “We’re going,” Tim amended, glancing one last time at his partner before returning to his car. He listened as Tony got into his own, and looked again at his boss, sending a quick “G’night” his way before stepping into the Porsche.
As he pulled out, he pretended not to pick up on the knowing look on Gibbs’ face as he followed Tony out of the parking garage, pretended not to notice the sadness there, and wondered how he was dealing with the loss of their co-worker and friend.
**********
Fifty-five minutes later, carrying a large pizza box with a medium-sized paper bag on top of it, Tim knocked on Tony’s door. He’d run home to change out of his work clothes, forgoing a shower out of a desire to just get there already. Calling Sarah, he was relieved she’d agreed to watch Jethro for the night, even if she had whined about it for most of the drive over to Tony’s. He chuckled to himself when he thought about how much he just wanted to get inside and be with the other man, not concerned with what may or may not happen tonight, or how his sister had bribed him into buying her a new iPod.
After knocking a second time, he tried the knob, somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. He entered quietly, calling out for the apartment’s occupant. Hearing nothing but quiet music in the background, he moved to the kitchen and set the box on the counter then moved the paper bag into the fridge.
“Tony?” he tried again, moving farther into the apartment. The living room was empty, though the plasma was on and apparently muted, lending light to the darkened space. He continued over to the second door off of the living room. It was open, and ducking his head into the room, he noticed Tony sitting on his bed, staring at his cell phone.
“Hey,” he called, barely above a whisper.
The other man turned his head slowly, a sad smile on his face. “Hey there.” He stood then, coming to stand close to Tim in the doorway, the phone gripped tightly in his right hand, the left coming up to scratch the side of his head. As if noticing it for the first time, Tony stared at the cast, flexing his fingers and turning his hand over. “Can’t wait to get this damn thing off,” he muttered.
Tim chuckled. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you complain about that, hell, about anything in the last few weeks.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around the cast, right where Tony’s wrist would be. “Still hurt?”
“Not really,” the other man shrugged. “Except when I whack it against something like I did in Abby’s lab. That hurt like a motherfucker.” Both men snickered, recalling the string of curses that had come out of his mouth that afternoon. “Shocked the hell out of Palmer. You’d think the guy’d never heard some of those words before.”
“Perhaps not so colorfully used,” Tim said in Jimmy’s defense. His hand still held Tony’s wrapped wrist, and he pulled on it gently, moving them both from the doorway they’d been standing in and farther into the living room. Tony followed docilely, allowing himself to be lead towards the couch, which bothered Tim. DiNozzo seemed so out of it, too quiet and sad, and Tim hated it.
“You hungry?” he asked once they were sitting on the couch, facing each other, Tony still staring at his casted arm which was in turn still held by Tim’s hand. Another moment of silence passed between the two of them, allowing the music, which Tim finally recognized as Nina Simone, to surround them. He sighed inwardly, knowing that while Tony loved her, he rarely broke out those albums, and then only for special reasons.
Finally, Tony shook himself out of his fugue, raising his head and nodding. “Yeah, let’s eat.” But neither of them moved for a moment, simply smiling at each other. Tony turned his left arm over slowly, wincing at the pain, and grasped Tim’s fingers with his own. “Movie?”
Tim nodded, standing reluctantly, releasing his fingers at the last possible moment. He knew they both needed to eat something tonight, having been too distracted at lunch trying to pull together information for a case. “I got Coronas and a bottle of Tequila.”
That earned him a look. “Since when do you drink Tequila, Probie?”
“Since I learned I actually like it, which shocked me too. Blame Sarah.” He walked into the kitchen, pulling some plates out of the cabinet they were housed in, placing a couple pieces of the pie on each, and carried them into the living room, setting them on the small table there. “Yes, I got drunk with Sarah. And yes, I’m shocked I did too.”
Laughing quietly, Tony shook his head at him. “You surprise me, McGee. Drinking with the baby sister.” He was leaning forward, grabbing a piece off his plate and biting off more than a third of it, as only he would.
Back in the kitchen, Tim answered him. “Yeah, well, she thought it would be a great way for us to bond. Or she just wanted to see me plastered. I’m not really sure.” He grabbed a couple of shot glasses and the bag out of the fridge. “All I know is she says she wants us to do it more often.”
When he returned to the living room, he saw that Tony had relinquished his cell, and it was now resting next to the lamp at the end of the couch.
“Please let me be there the next time you drink with your sister,” Tony said through a smirk.
“Why?”
“Because I can only imagine what you talk about when you’re blitzed with Sarah. Probably novels and computer games.”
Tim snorted indelicately, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to even consider what might happen with you and my sister with the addition of alcohol.” He reached out for his own plate and snatched a piece of pizza, so he missed the small flash of hurt that crossed his friend’s face.
Once he turned back, he caught the last of Tony’s frown. “What’s wrong?” Tony simply shrugged, taking another bite. “Wait, no. I trust you around Sarah, I don’t trust HER. I’ve told you the stories, and she talks about ‘Agent Tommy’ like he’s real. It’s starting to freak me out, actually.”
This time, Tony barked out a laugh, covering his mouth so as not to lose the bite of food he’d just taken. “Should I be worried?” he asked, still sniggering.
“Ha, no, I think your virtue is safe with her. As long as she’s sober, that is.”
“She really that bad when she’s drunk?”
“Nah, I guess not. But I worry about her. She’s my little sister, and most of the evidence points to her not being able to handle her liquor.”
“And yet you still drink with her from time to time.”
“No, twice. First time after we all got split up, second, about….a week ago.” Tim sighed, seeing Tony nodding. Trying to refocus the topic before it got too deep, he continued. “I’m trying not to make a habit of it.”
“Probably a good idea,” Tony agreed. “So, what should we put on the tube to stare at mindlessly for a few hours?” He stood up and walked to the bookcase filled with DVDs. “I’m thinking something we’ve both seen a few times that we can both just zone out to.”
“Which leaves, what, Star Wars or Lord of the Rings? I can’t think of something we’ve both seen enough of to zone out to.” Tim reached into the bag and grabbed a Corona. “Want one?”
“Sure,” Tony answered after checking over his shoulder. “So, four, five, or six, or Fellowship, Tower, or Return?”
Five minutes later, the two men settled deeper into Tony’s couch, having gotten each more pizza and a shot of Tequila. As the evening drew on, they watched as the Empire seemed to get the upper hand on the Rebellion, saying little and neither paying much attention to what was on the television.
**********
At approximately the same time Luke Skywalker was discovering the true identity of Darth Vader, Tim set his final bottle of Corona back in the six-pack carrier it had come from. Resting back again, he glanced to his right, eyeing his companion as he lay sprawled in the far corner of the sofa. Tony’s right leg was stretched out in front of him on the floor, his left was bent, knee resting on the couch between them. He was turned slightly towards Tim, his eyes glued blankly to the screen. Tim could just see the other man’s cell phone on the small side table just over his shoulder. Even he got his hopes up every time Tony answered it when they were together, hoping it would be the call they were all waiting for.
Gibbs had told them about Ziva’s request that either she or DiNozzo be transferred to another team, and how he had simply said goodbye after her not-so-subtle ultimatum. Her desk still sat empty across from all of them at the office. Vance had backed off for the first week after the Tel Aviv trip, only just starting to put real pressure on Gibbs to replace her.
Both he and DiNozzo had nodded when Gibbs had glanced at them after the Director’s most recent reminder of their being a member down, but nothing had been said. What was there to say? They were a member down, a friend down, and Tim felt the hole as deeply as he had after they lost Kate. And Ziva wasn’t dead, just half a world away.
Yet Tim had yet to find it in himself to give in to the hope of ever seeing her again. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Not knowing what had actually happened with the Michael Rivkin debacle, even considering what Tony had said after their return from Israel, made things difficult. DiNozzo had gotten Director David to basically admit having played his own daughter, in a roundabout fashion, to getting her involved without her knowledge. Tim wanted nothing more than to believe that it was true, that Ziva hadn’t known what was going on, and he did, in the end.
But too much had happened, there were too many secrets, too much tension and anger, and no answers. Tim hadn’t been in the midst of it like the man sitting next to him, but he had felt the giant ripples that had been created, had felt the fall-out that had been wearing them all thin the last few months. And no one as thin as Tony DiNozzo.
Tim had begun wondering about his teammates for almost two years, catching the looks, the heated arguments, the strain in the usual playfulness that showed up from time to time. And he’d noticed, when it had become obvious that Ziva was linked to Michael, if only apparently romantically, that DiNozzo had begun pulling into himself. And that alone had gotten McGee’s hackles up.
And that had brought him to make the offer of companionship he’d made tonight.
Tony’s left arm was resting on the back of the couch, his fingers just inches away from Tim’s shoulder. He could hear Tony’s fingernails as they scratched at the fabric, making him want to grab the hand and still it.
That was when Tim realized the DVD had reverted back to the main menu, and he had no idea how long he’d been distracted with his thoughts. Turning his head towards the other man, he found Tony looking at him. They stared at each other for a few long moments, Tim trying to decipher what was going on behind the green eyes so like his own.
“Movie’s over,” DiNozzo mumbled, smirking. “You were on another planet, there, weren’t yah, Probie?”
Tim returned the smirk. “Apparently.” He turned his body towards the other man, mirroring his position, hiking his right leg on to the cushion between them. “Do you even know what you felt for her? Feel for her?”
The question was out before he could stop it, and yet he didn’t really want to pull it back. He was genuinely curious, because he had been asking himself the same question for a while.
Tony looked away, back to the television as the menu restarted its cycle. Tim knew he wasn’t avoiding the inquiry; he’d become accustomed to the other man’s techniques of avoidance, and quiet contemplation wasn’t one of them.
“Do you know how you feel for her?” Giving himself time, on the other hand, was an avoidance technique, but Tim wasn’t put off by it.
“No, other than I feel like I lost a big part of my life when she didn’t come back.”
Nodding, bringing his gaze back, Tony replied, “Feel the same way. But, honestly, beyond that, no, I don’t know what I feel.”
“Do you think you love her?”
“I have no idea. And I’m not sure if it really matters.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s not here. And I don’t know if she ever will be. And I have no idea if she’ll ever trust me again.”
That was the clincher, Tim thought. That was the most important point, trust. “Do you trust her?”
This time, Tony looked at his left hand, the one that still bore evidence of the act that possibly cost him the trust he felt he’d lost. His fingers started their scratching again, and this time Tim did reach with his right hand and grasped his friend’s, bringing it down to rest on their nearly touching knees. “Tony, you told me that her father had essentially admitted to pushing Rivkin on her. And that you went to her apartment to figure out what was going on. You didn’t go over there with any other intention than possibly protecting her from whatever she might need protection from. You allowed her to push you to the ground and hold a gun on you in anger.”
“And I’m still trying to figure out how much she wanted to pull the trigger.”
Both men fell silent at that, staring at their joined hands. Tim realized he was lightly massaging Tony’s fingers with his own, tracing them with the tips lightly. Bringing his other hand from where it had been resting on his left leg, he used it to cradle Tony’s, using those fingers to rub gently on his palm.
“I wish I had an answer for you, McGee. I really do. Because then I might have a fucking clue what I feel for her.” Tony barely whispered those words, the pain and confusion obvious in his tone.
They sat silently for a bit, Tony sitting up straighter and inching closer. Tim could feel the heat coming from the other man, and allowed his left hand to be taken by Tony’s right, fingers intertwining, thumbs moving against each other. He lifted his eyes to the face opposite his, and saw the handsome face in the dim light. The pain was evident, as was the confusion, but what Tim was surprised to see was resignation.
“You don’t think she’s coming back.”
Shaking his head, Tony squeezed their joined hands tightly. “No, I don’t.”
And that’s when Tim decided to pull his partner closer. After a few careful movements to resituate themselves, Tony was lying on top of him, injured arm on his shoulder and face above his. Again, they just looked at each other for a moment, then somebody moved, though who instigated it Tim couldn’t be sure, and they were kissing.
Any other thoughts he’d had disappeared at that point. The only thing on his mind was the feel of Tony’s lips on his, how his long body felt against his body, how the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck felt against his fingers, how Tony’s tongue felt in his mouth. It was slow and tender, lasting until Tony pulled away and rested his forehead on Tim’s. They breathed together, touching lightly, their eyes closed.
“You okay down there?” Tony asked, dropping a quick kiss before giving Tim a chance to answer.
“Yeah,” he assured him, realizing how okay he was in this position. When they’d been together in the past, it had never been with this haze of sorrow surrounding them. Stress, yes; fear, definitely. But this kind of ache, of losing something they weren’t even sure how to define, was new, and Tim realized how much he just wanted to forget for a night.
Ten months ago, it had been because Tony was back on dry land after four months at sea, after four months of the older man dealing with guilt Tim felt he didn’t deserve to carry; alone, after the team being unceremoniously ripped apart at the seams. When he had told Gibbs how he would rather be working with he and Ziva again, he had left Tony out intentionally, thinking that part went without saying. He’d shrugged it off, when Gibbs had added DiNozzo to the list, acting as if Tony was an afterthought.
Tony was the farthest thing from an afterthought.
“Come back to me, McGee.” He blinked, looking up into the eyes of the man above him. “You here?”
He smiled. “Yup. I’m here.” And he pulled Tony’s lips back to his.
Soon, though, lips and light touches weren’t enough, and the couch was quickly becoming entirely too small for their long bodies. He helped Tony push himself up, not wanting him to put extra weight on his broken arm, and then allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He was lead into Tony’s bedroom, and there they again kissed, Tim helping Tony out of his work shirt, being careful of the cast, then took his own shirt off, pulling the other man back to him.
They continued kissing as Tim toed off his shoes, as they slid then kicked off their pants and shorts, and stood naked next to the bed and simply ran their hands over each other.
Pulling apart was becoming more of a task, and Tim was panting when they did. “Lie down,” he softly ordered his partner. Tony did as he was told, pushing the covers out of the way then looking back. Tim settled next to him on the bed, pressing on his shoulder to make him lay flat and get any weight off his left arm. “Stay off that damn thing, will you?”
Tony chuckled, acquiescing while pulling Tim over with him. “You may have to do a lot of the work tonight, Probie. What with the gimpy arm and everything.”
Smiling, he replied, “I’d already figured that part out. Think you can handle that?”
“Definitely.” And their lips met again.
Moving his hands down Tony’s sides, Tim dropped his mouth to his neck, sucking lightly, running his tongue along the collar bone. They moved against each other, Tony hard against Tim’s hip, his right hand squeezing the back of his head, his left laying on the bed beside them.
Tim nuzzled down the middle of Tony’s chest, dropping soft lips at random points. He could feel Tony’s left arm quaking next to him, wanting to move and join in. Pushing himself to his knees, straddling the other man’s waist, he reached for the injured arm, bringing the fingers there to his mouth. He kissed the tips, and began massaging the palm, reaching up just underneath the plaster, putting just enough pressure to caress but not to hurt. Tony watched him closely, with a small grin on his face, and he felt his hand on his hip.
“You sure are paying a lot of attention to that hand.”
“I don’t want it to feel completely left out.” Tim slowly sucked the index finger into his mouth, running his tongue along the skin and nail, keeping his gaze locked on Tony.
Groaning softly, Tony smiled brighter. “Well, I can tell you, it appreciates that.”
Tim snorted, and let the finger fall from his lips. “Glad I can be of service.” He set Tony’s arm back on the bed and leaned over to seal their lips together again, then pulled away, moving backwards.
Tony groaned as Tim did the same thing to his cock that he’d just done to his finger. Tim smiled around his mouthful, enjoying the sound he’d dragged out of his partner. He squeezed Tony’s hips, feeling as they flexed and rolled upwards, trying to press deeper.
A hand settled itself on his head and gripped lightly, twisting in the short spikes there, no pressure, just a touch. Using his tongue on the underside of Tony’s cock as he pulled back, he smiled again, dropping a quick kiss to the head then moved up, bringing his lips back to the other man’s. The hand on his head held him in place, and he felt the hard, scratchy surface of the cast against his back. Tony was wrapped around him, and his movements were becoming more desperate.
“Hold on,” Tim whispered, reaching for the bottom drawer of the nightstand, Tony’s encased arm still running up and down his back. Upon finding the bottle of lubrication and box of condoms, he returned to his previous position, settling himself between his partner’s legs. “Are you sure about this?” he inquired, holding Tony’s face with his hands.
Tony nodded his head, speaking softly. “Yes, very sure. I know I need to not think for at least a little while. And I know you do too.”
Sighing deeply, Tim kissed him again, and then moved to lie on the bed beside him. He reached for the bottle, and began preparing Tony.
After only a few minutes, Tim was opening the condom and pulling it on himself, applying the lube, and shifting back onto Tony. Making love face to face wasn’t something they usually did, but this was not like the other times. It was more than two friends needing ‘companionship’. Tonight was about trying to mend two broken hearts, about finding solace in another human being. How they’d gotten here, having sex, to making love, as part of their friendship, Tim couldn’t say. And he resigned himself to thinking about it later, someday, when he wasn’t feeling as lost as he was, as lost he knew Tony was.
The man’s legs moved to wrap around his waist, and Tim pushed a pillow under Tony’s waist. Their eyes met again as he buried himself deeply. He knew they both savored these moments, when they were a part of each other, inside of each other, bodies growing slick, hands clutching, legs quaking, mouths joined. Tim had his arms under Tony’s shoulders, using the grip for leverage, while Tony’s own moved constantly, over his shoulders, down his back, reaching down to grasp his ass. The ever-present cast was an unfortunate reminder of recent events, and its texture as it rubbed at his skin simply pushed him further, harder into Tony’s body.
It lasted much longer than Tim thought it would. There was no rush to the finish, there was no urgency to come, only a desire to touch and feel and love. If he’d been able to actually think, the last emotion would have caught him, possibly slowed him down. But all he could see was his friend’s face, feel the tightness around his cock, hear the grunts and moans they were both releasing.
Tony’s right hand ran down his chest, massaging his pectorals, pinching then moving back up to pet his face and hair. Tim turned his head to kiss the palm, bringing his own hand up and catching the other, lacing their fingers together, moving their joined hands to the pillow near Tony’s head.
“You okay?” he asked, levering himself up slightly.
Tony only nodded jerkily, his body undulating in a way that made Tim realize it was getting to be too much, for both of them. He began pumping harder into the other body, using his slightly raised position to push deeper. Tony’s eyes were tightly shut, his mouth open just enough to let out harsh breaths, and sweat was dripping down his face and neck. Tim could feel his own body growing tighter, slicker, as he was propelled towards the end.
When Tony cried out, a rasping sound that Tim could feel in his own chest, he slammed into him brutally one time, his body held in place by the other man’s. They were frozen for a moment, locked in a place that Tim was sure neither wanted to escape, a place where everything was silent and settled, where it was just the two of them, and whatever had been on their minds was blessedly absent.
Feeling the subtle contractions around his dick, Tim sucked in a deep breath, opening the eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed. He focused on the face below him, finding the same tired, blank look on Tony’s face he was sure was on his own. Their still clasped hands released, and Tim brought his back to the face he found so enthralling. Right now, it was lax, wet, and rough. It was a face that was hard to look away from at nearly every other moment of the day; it was impossible to look away at this moment in time.
Tim watched as Tony swallowed a few times, watched as he tried to force his throat to speak. Still moving slowly in and out of him, he leaned down and dragged his tongue up that long column and across the strong jaw and finally to the beautiful mouth. Tony’s hands came up to frame his face again, angling it and joining in the kiss. It was lazy and long, and ended only when Tim realized he might finally be getting too heavy for the other man.
Pulling back, he eased out of his friend and fell to the safe side, the one opposite the broken arm. Tony turned with him, still holding his face between his palms. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “Just let me get something to wipe up with, okay?”
Smiling, Tony dropped his hands. “Quick,” he muttered. Tim pecked on the forehead, then went to the bath off the bedroom, depositing the used condom in the garbage then wetting a washcloth and grabbing a towel.
Walking back into the room, wiping his own stomach down, he looked at the man on the bed, finding him watching also. The smile was still in place, though he hadn’t moved in the few seconds he’d been alone. Tony allowed Tim to wipe him down, then grabbed the towel and sat up, using it to rub the sweat off of Tim’s upper body and face. He did the same to himself, dropping the towel to the floor beside the bed and dragged Tim back down.
They ended up lying on their sides facing each other, Tony’s broken left arm settled on Tim’s hip, Tim’s right drawing small figures on Tony’s shoulder. “I’ve never understood why we’ve never….” Tony started quietly and trailed off, but Tim understood.
“I don’t either. Like everything else, it’s too fucking complicated, I guess.”
“Well, that just sucks.”
“I agree whole-heartedly,” Tim stated, moving to kiss him.
Like the others, this meeting of lips lasted a while, and they pulled each other closer, intertwining their legs and wrapping arms around each other. Rolling himself backwards, Tim had Tony partially settled on top of him when they broke apart, in much the same position they’d been in on the couch, foreheads touching, breathing together, not looking at each other, just simply holding on.
“Should we try?” He barely heard the whisper, even coming from mere inches from his ears. His chest tightened at the question, making him wince. When Tony flinched in reaction, he hugged him closer.
“No, don’t. I just think this may not be the right time for either one of us to even think about something like this.”
“You mean you aren’t thinking it?” Tony’s words had little to no inflection in them, and Tim sighed.
“Of course I am,” he whispered in reply. “But I also remember what we talked about earlier tonight, and this wouldn’t erase any of it, for either of us.”
Tony closed his eyes and dropped his head to Tim’s neck, blowing out gently and causing a few goose bumps to rise. Turning to touch his lips to the other man’s temple, Tim added, “Besides, Gibbs would kill us, Abby would want to watch, and then there’s that whole ‘Ladies Man’ façade you’ve got to keep up.”
Fortunately, that earned him the chuckle he’d been going for. “God you piss me off sometimes,” Tony mumbled as he pushed himself back from his neck. “You’re supposed to be the Probie. I should be explaining this shit to you, not the other way around.”
“Get over yourself, DiNozzo. You totally know who the mature one is in this bed.”
“Tim, can we just kind of hide out this weekend?” The sudden gear change caught him by surprise, and when he looked, he saw the question for what it was. Tony wanted to pretend, at least for a couple of days. And he realized he wanted the same thing.
Wanted to pretend that Ziva was here. Wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, that they knew the answers to all the questions asked earlier, why they’d never tried to be together as more than fuck-buddies or friends with benefits. Maybe a weekend would be enough, provided they got that weekend.
“Yeah, sure, I think that would be good.” He smiled when he caught the relief in the green eyes that looked so intensely at him. “On one condition.”
Tony looked at him skeptically, raising one eyebrow dramatically. “What?” he asked suspiciously.
“You let me bring Jethro over tomorrow. I’d called Sarah to watch him, but she’ll kill me if I leave him with her all weekend.”
Rolling his eyes, Tony grumbled his answer. “Sure, but I have a condition, then, too.”
“What?”
Serious again, Tony kissed him, then pulled back. “That this isn’t the last time. Even if it’s the second to last, or whatever, I don’t want this to be it, okay?”
Tim had a hard time finding the words to answer him. The anguish in the words and voice tore through him, and all he could do was pull Tony to him tightly. Things weren’t any better; in fact they were probably worse, if the ache in his own heart meant anything. He knew the answer, and it was the answer that Tony wanted, but he had to find a reserve of strength he wasn’t sure he had to say them.
"This won’t be the last time. I promise.”