kageygirl

I'd all but forgotten how to do this! For my darling

shetiger, though, I almost remember.

DiNozzo/McGee, G-rated, 225 words.

A stutter-step is the basic component of most offensive evasive maneuvers in sport.

Stutter-Step

"L-later, man," Tony says, and pulls McGee's door shut--not hard, not a slam, but not hesitant, either, because Tony is all about the control. Except for that stutter he's been developing lately, but that's just a thing. It'll pass.

Everything passes. Tony forgot that for a while, but what happened with Jeanne was a big neon reminder. Everything passes.

So Tony's not worried about the stutter, about the fact that sometimes he stumbles over L-words when he leaves McGee's place. After all, he's fine when they're in the office, fine when they're in the car, fine when they're at a crime scene or in Abby's lab or in Autopsy. He's even fine when they're yanking out the hospital corners on McGee's bed, or endangering McGee's relic of a typewriter, or figuring out just how sturdy McGee's desk chair is. (It's pretty sturdy, but the wheels add in some unexpected excitement sometimes.)

So, it's not a big deal, the stutter. It only crops up when Tony's taking off, and he looks back at Tim, and he has to remind himself that everything ends, everything passes, that he can't stay here and help fold those hospital corners back in place.

And since Tony's all about the control, he walks smoothly through the doorway, every time. It's only his tongue that gets tripped up on the threshold.