7snogs: [NCIS] Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee, #1: restless
Title: For That Would Surely Break My Heart
Author: jack_infinitude
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor spoiler for 5x19 Judgment Day.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
A/N: Part of my [On the Way to a Smile Series]. This isn't limejuize's birthday present, but all the same: happy birthday, chicka.
The line in the shop was long enough to hit the door. Caitlin groaned at the sight, hefting her textbooks. It was going to take at least an hour to get the counter; why was she being denied her caffeine fix today, of all days? And since she was standing, she couldn’t even read her novel with her arms as full as they were. She cast about for a free seat; wasn’t there anyone willing to share a table for a few minutes?
She would have despaired if not for a young man catching her eye and gesturing at an empty chair. Caitlin smiled gratefully at him as she waded through disgruntled customers and coffee shop furniture.
“You looked lost,” he said as she neared his seat.
“I still am,” she replied and sat down with a groan. Three hours walking around DC without a backpack? Never again.
“Graduate student,” the man guessed. “It’s been a few years since college, huh?”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes at him. He widened his eyes back at her; that, along with the honey-colored bangs falling in his face and the smile tugging at his lips made her relax a little. “Is it your job to notice people?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he admitted, and the smile widened. “I swear I’m not a serial killer.”
“You’re a cop,” Caitlin guessed. “Or something. You’re trained in profiling.”
“That’s a little scary.”
“My uncle works for the FBI. I know the look. But you’re a bit young.”
“I have the scars to prove it,” he remarked dryly.
“I’m sure,” she replied in an equal voice. “Which agency?”
He hesitated which suddenly made her doubt him; and that set her heart going just a little bit faster. She could have been wrong, or he might be a disenfranchised agent with a grudge, looking for someone to take out his anger on. There were plenty of those wandering the streets of DC.
But really, he looked about as threatening as a wet noodle. There was an injured quality about him, in spite of his smile. The set to his jaw that made her think that he was coming down off a bad break up; there was even a plastic bag holding duct tape and twine next to his coffee cup, now that she was looking. Was he taking a break from cleaning out the shared apartment? Possible.
“I’m NCIS,” he said finally. “I’ve even got a shield, look....”
“I believe you,” she assured him, because she did. If someone was going to try to pretend to be a federal agent, it would be far more believable, not to mention easier, to play up to the FBI or CIA. “What position?”
“Special Agent. I think.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I was transferred to an analysis department yesterday.” His strained voice let her know just how much he had appreciated the move. “My new boss doesn’t like me very much.”
“Oh.” Caitlin winced and looked down at the table. She wondered if she ought to say something to comfort him; a bad break up and a messy work situation hardly made for the ideal lifestyle. So she wondered what it was that made her ask, “Do you...do you think you’ll be fired?”
The young man cocked his head to one side. His grey eyes were intent, but not on her face, for all that he was looking at her. He seemed to be studying something from far away and Caitlin knew then that he had himself been considering the question.
“I don’t think so,” he said finally. “In this game he’s playing...well, I’m not worth the effort it would take.”
“You’re not even worth firing?” she asked, aghast.
He laughed a little. “No, I’m really not. Not anymore.”
“Wow. You must be really useless.”
The laugh was longer and fuller this time; Caitlin found that she liked the sound of it, and shivered. This NCIS agent was attractive in a cuddly kind of way, certainly worth dating. And he seemed nice enough. She wondered how committed he had been to his girlfriend.
Judging from the sad way he was looking at the bag of packing material, a lot. Damn.
“What’s up with the line?” she asked, trying to distract him. He was looking cuter and cuter by the minute.
“There was some sort of foul up with the coffee makers,” he said, taking his eyes away from the duct tape and looking at his coffee cup instead. “It involved a lot of screaming and tripped breakers. I’m just glad I got my stuff before it happened.”
“Huh. Wow. I mean, that’s really crazy, that --”
He widened his eyes at her again, and she broke off into a small giggle. Then he smiled at her. “It was only twenty minutes ago,” he said. “I think they should be up and running again soon.”
“I hope so. God, I can’t stand not having coffee --”
“Late night?”
“Nights. Plural. I have a theology report to write, and it’s due tomorrow.”
His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, and then he grinned. “Procrastination’s such a blast.”
She stuck out her tongue at him, and smacked his hand lightly with her paperback. “Don’t be a jerk, Mr-Special-Agent.”
“I am not,” he began to say, but then reached out quick as a flash and took the novel. He read the title and let out a little snort. “Oh, God. You’re kidding. Deep Six? Really?”
“It’s a good book,” she replied, a little injured.
“I don’t want to be insulting,” he said as he eyed it. “But this is crap.”
“It is not.”
“The characters are flat and clichéd, and the plot is moronic. Can you really tell me that you didn’t guess the ending after the third chapter?”
“Yes, I can,” she retaliated stubbornly. “It kept me guessing right up until the very end. And I like the characters. They’re not flat, or clichéd. You sound like a book reviewer.”
He snorted and flipped through it, coming to a stop at the author page. He made a face at the little biographical blurb (and damn if he wasn’t adorable with his nose scrunched up like that) before opening up to a random passage.
“What riveting prose,” he drawled. “I like this bit about the stakeouts, that’s accurate reporting, that is --”
“It’s not reporting!” Caitlin glared at him. What was it about literature that made people turn so nasty? “Gemcity’s just unpolished, that’s all. He’ll get better as he keeps going.”
“If he keeps going. I saw a news story a little while ago that his second novel was hijacked by some nutjob that started killing people over it. Probably scared the guy half to death, no wonder he hasn’t published anything since.”
“If you don’t like his books so much then why do you know so much about it?” Caitlin asked.
He narrowed his eyes and smiled darkly. “I kept track of him because my...my partner was interested. He’s a sucker for this kind of stuff.” Then he tilted his head to one side a little, studying her. “Why do you like it so much?”
The question threw her. She looked around the shop, at the customers leaving, or disseminating throughout the tables. Mostly leaving. She looked at the sky outside, and noticed that it was dark and covered with clouds; it looked ready to rain.
“I think,” she said at last. “I think I like it because. Because of the characters. Especially McGregor. And Tommy.”
That made him close his eyes. “Why?”
“Because they feel real. And that -- that makes me care about them. About what happens to them. And their -- thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing. The thing they have. It’s like -- Special Agent Tommy likes to pull McGregor’s pigtails, because he doesn’t know how else to get his attention. And, um. McGregor never really gets mad at him for it, not really. It’s like they’re flirting with each other, but no one else kno--” Caitlin realized what she was saying and put a hand over her mouth. She waited for the jeering reaction, the outraged howl.
But there was nothing. The NCIS agent only looked at the tattered and well-loved paperback in his hand like he was about to cry.
And then she got it. The duct tape, and the twine, and the way he held the book, the way he said partner--
“What happened to your boyfriend?”
He started a little, pulled out of the reverie. “My boyfriend?”
“Well, your partner, you said --”
“Oh -- that --” His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “I meant -- my partner at NCIS. And it’s not that he, well, liked it, he just liked pulling it apart and -- Um. He was shipped off. Agent Afloat.”
“Did your boss separate you because you broke the regs?”
He looked away.
Caitlin didn’t know why she was pushing. It just seemed so obvious. This man and his partner had broken regulations with a relationship, and had been punished for it. It was all there in this young man’s body language, the caressing why he had said, ‘my partner.’ But why the packing materials?
She had already asked too many questions. So instead, she just said, “I think Tommy and McGregor are in love. They just don’t know it yet.”
Behind her, at the counter, there was a cheer. She looked over her shoulder and saw two of the baristas sharing a dance as the third declared free coffee for the first twenty customers.
She turned back. “Look, I should --”
He put the book down and said, “I’ll watch your stuff.”
So she got to her feet and went to the counter to make her order, looking at him over her shoulder when she got the chance. He had stacked her textbooks according to size when she was finished speaking to the barista, and was looking at Deep Six after she went to wait at the delivery end.¬ When she got her drink, he had opened it to the beginning and was writing in it with a pen.
When she saw that, all her sympathy disappeared. Caitlin began striding towards him, figuring out the best way to pour her drink on his head. He didn’t even say anything when she got to the table; just picked up his bag and wordlessly handed her the book.
“What did you write?” she demanded, flipping it open. “Hey! Get back here--”
But he was already out the door. Above him, the sky rumbled ominously.
“I hope you get soaked,” she muttered. Then she looked down at the title page, and froze.
You’re right. They’ve been in love with each other for years, but neither of them knows how to say it. Thank you.
T. E. Gemcity
Author: jack_infinitude
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Anthony DiNozzo/Timothy McGee
Rating: PG
Warnings: Minor spoiler for 5x19 Judgment Day.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
A/N: Part of my [On the Way to a Smile Series]. This isn't limejuize's birthday present, but all the same: happy birthday, chicka.
The line in the shop was long enough to hit the door. Caitlin groaned at the sight, hefting her textbooks. It was going to take at least an hour to get the counter; why was she being denied her caffeine fix today, of all days? And since she was standing, she couldn’t even read her novel with her arms as full as they were. She cast about for a free seat; wasn’t there anyone willing to share a table for a few minutes?
She would have despaired if not for a young man catching her eye and gesturing at an empty chair. Caitlin smiled gratefully at him as she waded through disgruntled customers and coffee shop furniture.
“You looked lost,” he said as she neared his seat.
“I still am,” she replied and sat down with a groan. Three hours walking around DC without a backpack? Never again.
“Graduate student,” the man guessed. “It’s been a few years since college, huh?”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes at him. He widened his eyes back at her; that, along with the honey-colored bangs falling in his face and the smile tugging at his lips made her relax a little. “Is it your job to notice people?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he admitted, and the smile widened. “I swear I’m not a serial killer.”
“You’re a cop,” Caitlin guessed. “Or something. You’re trained in profiling.”
“That’s a little scary.”
“My uncle works for the FBI. I know the look. But you’re a bit young.”
“I have the scars to prove it,” he remarked dryly.
“I’m sure,” she replied in an equal voice. “Which agency?”
He hesitated which suddenly made her doubt him; and that set her heart going just a little bit faster. She could have been wrong, or he might be a disenfranchised agent with a grudge, looking for someone to take out his anger on. There were plenty of those wandering the streets of DC.
But really, he looked about as threatening as a wet noodle. There was an injured quality about him, in spite of his smile. The set to his jaw that made her think that he was coming down off a bad break up; there was even a plastic bag holding duct tape and twine next to his coffee cup, now that she was looking. Was he taking a break from cleaning out the shared apartment? Possible.
“I’m NCIS,” he said finally. “I’ve even got a shield, look....”
“I believe you,” she assured him, because she did. If someone was going to try to pretend to be a federal agent, it would be far more believable, not to mention easier, to play up to the FBI or CIA. “What position?”
“Special Agent. I think.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I was transferred to an analysis department yesterday.” His strained voice let her know just how much he had appreciated the move. “My new boss doesn’t like me very much.”
“Oh.” Caitlin winced and looked down at the table. She wondered if she ought to say something to comfort him; a bad break up and a messy work situation hardly made for the ideal lifestyle. So she wondered what it was that made her ask, “Do you...do you think you’ll be fired?”
The young man cocked his head to one side. His grey eyes were intent, but not on her face, for all that he was looking at her. He seemed to be studying something from far away and Caitlin knew then that he had himself been considering the question.
“I don’t think so,” he said finally. “In this game he’s playing...well, I’m not worth the effort it would take.”
“You’re not even worth firing?” she asked, aghast.
He laughed a little. “No, I’m really not. Not anymore.”
“Wow. You must be really useless.”
The laugh was longer and fuller this time; Caitlin found that she liked the sound of it, and shivered. This NCIS agent was attractive in a cuddly kind of way, certainly worth dating. And he seemed nice enough. She wondered how committed he had been to his girlfriend.
Judging from the sad way he was looking at the bag of packing material, a lot. Damn.
“What’s up with the line?” she asked, trying to distract him. He was looking cuter and cuter by the minute.
“There was some sort of foul up with the coffee makers,” he said, taking his eyes away from the duct tape and looking at his coffee cup instead. “It involved a lot of screaming and tripped breakers. I’m just glad I got my stuff before it happened.”
“Huh. Wow. I mean, that’s really crazy, that --”
He widened his eyes at her again, and she broke off into a small giggle. Then he smiled at her. “It was only twenty minutes ago,” he said. “I think they should be up and running again soon.”
“I hope so. God, I can’t stand not having coffee --”
“Late night?”
“Nights. Plural. I have a theology report to write, and it’s due tomorrow.”
His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, and then he grinned. “Procrastination’s such a blast.”
She stuck out her tongue at him, and smacked his hand lightly with her paperback. “Don’t be a jerk, Mr-Special-Agent.”
“I am not,” he began to say, but then reached out quick as a flash and took the novel. He read the title and let out a little snort. “Oh, God. You’re kidding. Deep Six? Really?”
“It’s a good book,” she replied, a little injured.
“I don’t want to be insulting,” he said as he eyed it. “But this is crap.”
“It is not.”
“The characters are flat and clichéd, and the plot is moronic. Can you really tell me that you didn’t guess the ending after the third chapter?”
“Yes, I can,” she retaliated stubbornly. “It kept me guessing right up until the very end. And I like the characters. They’re not flat, or clichéd. You sound like a book reviewer.”
He snorted and flipped through it, coming to a stop at the author page. He made a face at the little biographical blurb (and damn if he wasn’t adorable with his nose scrunched up like that) before opening up to a random passage.
“What riveting prose,” he drawled. “I like this bit about the stakeouts, that’s accurate reporting, that is --”
“It’s not reporting!” Caitlin glared at him. What was it about literature that made people turn so nasty? “Gemcity’s just unpolished, that’s all. He’ll get better as he keeps going.”
“If he keeps going. I saw a news story a little while ago that his second novel was hijacked by some nutjob that started killing people over it. Probably scared the guy half to death, no wonder he hasn’t published anything since.”
“If you don’t like his books so much then why do you know so much about it?” Caitlin asked.
He narrowed his eyes and smiled darkly. “I kept track of him because my...my partner was interested. He’s a sucker for this kind of stuff.” Then he tilted his head to one side a little, studying her. “Why do you like it so much?”
The question threw her. She looked around the shop, at the customers leaving, or disseminating throughout the tables. Mostly leaving. She looked at the sky outside, and noticed that it was dark and covered with clouds; it looked ready to rain.
“I think,” she said at last. “I think I like it because. Because of the characters. Especially McGregor. And Tommy.”
That made him close his eyes. “Why?”
“Because they feel real. And that -- that makes me care about them. About what happens to them. And their -- thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing. The thing they have. It’s like -- Special Agent Tommy likes to pull McGregor’s pigtails, because he doesn’t know how else to get his attention. And, um. McGregor never really gets mad at him for it, not really. It’s like they’re flirting with each other, but no one else kno--” Caitlin realized what she was saying and put a hand over her mouth. She waited for the jeering reaction, the outraged howl.
But there was nothing. The NCIS agent only looked at the tattered and well-loved paperback in his hand like he was about to cry.
And then she got it. The duct tape, and the twine, and the way he held the book, the way he said partner--
“What happened to your boyfriend?”
He started a little, pulled out of the reverie. “My boyfriend?”
“Well, your partner, you said --”
“Oh -- that --” His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “I meant -- my partner at NCIS. And it’s not that he, well, liked it, he just liked pulling it apart and -- Um. He was shipped off. Agent Afloat.”
“Did your boss separate you because you broke the regs?”
He looked away.
Caitlin didn’t know why she was pushing. It just seemed so obvious. This man and his partner had broken regulations with a relationship, and had been punished for it. It was all there in this young man’s body language, the caressing why he had said, ‘my partner.’ But why the packing materials?
She had already asked too many questions. So instead, she just said, “I think Tommy and McGregor are in love. They just don’t know it yet.”
Behind her, at the counter, there was a cheer. She looked over her shoulder and saw two of the baristas sharing a dance as the third declared free coffee for the first twenty customers.
She turned back. “Look, I should --”
He put the book down and said, “I’ll watch your stuff.”
So she got to her feet and went to the counter to make her order, looking at him over her shoulder when she got the chance. He had stacked her textbooks according to size when she was finished speaking to the barista, and was looking at Deep Six after she went to wait at the delivery end.¬ When she got her drink, he had opened it to the beginning and was writing in it with a pen.
When she saw that, all her sympathy disappeared. Caitlin began striding towards him, figuring out the best way to pour her drink on his head. He didn’t even say anything when she got to the table; just picked up his bag and wordlessly handed her the book.
“What did you write?” she demanded, flipping it open. “Hey! Get back here--”
But he was already out the door. Above him, the sky rumbled ominously.
“I hope you get soaked,” she muttered. Then she looked down at the title page, and froze.
You’re right. They’ve been in love with each other for years, but neither of them knows how to say it. Thank you.
T. E. Gemcity