NCIS ficlet: Stricken (DiNozzo/McGee, G)

[kageygirl]

estrella30 wants kissing ficlets! And I... am easy!

DiNozzo/McGee, 520 words, spoilers for "Singled Out" (and general late-S4, of the "if you don't know what I'm talking about, you won't see it" variety).


Stricken

Tim's seen that look on Tony's face before--he even caused it once himself, when he was pissed at Tony for calling him "Probie" again, and he snapped back by pointing out that it looked like Tony hadn't rated his own team to lead, not permanently.

Tim still can't think back on that without a pang of guilt, and so, whenever he sees that look again, it cuts deep. Tony goes still, goes blank, drops his chin and his eyes, and for just a second, he's not Tony any more. He's not the macho jerk, not the playboy, not the guy who makes it past serial killers and phony murder raps and getting the plague; he's just a normal person. Who gets hurt like a normal person.

Tim used to wish he worked with normal people. He hasn't wanted that since Kate died.

He knows what's going to come next--Tony's voice is going to be gravelly and quiet, and even if he pretends nothing is wrong, he's still not going to be Tony for a while. Tim doesn't even know what hit Tony this time, when he paused and stared at a group of people coming out of the nightclub across from the movie theater.

He can make a few good guesses, though. And it's nothing he can change. But--

"Tony," he says, and Tony turns to him, face still and silent and impassive, eyes shadowed and opaque in the dark, and if you didn't know him, you'd never know how totally wrong it all was. Tim can't stand to see him like that any longer--he's not good at fixing hurt, not with people, never has been--and he has a quick notion that he should make a joke, or just usher them down the street, or--something.

What he does, though, is lean in. And kiss Tony. On the lips.

And now he feels the way Tony looks, like his gut just dropped out, like he's been sucker-punched, because that was not any of the somethings he was thinking, and, oh god, Tony's not kissing back, which means he's probably going to punch Tim as soon as Tim backs up to a good swinging radius, and Tim raises a hand to push off, to block a punch, to do--something...

And ends up laying his palm against Tony's cheek. His hand is freezing, but Tony's not much better, cool to the touch, though it's a warm night in Alexandria, barely breezy.

Tony finally moves--Tim still has his eyes closed, but he can feel Tony moving--and then Tony's cradling his head, kissing him back, lips cool and dry but warming up, sliding along Tim's. Tony angles his head, lips parting, and seems to sigh into Tim's mouth, one hand palming his neck, keeping him close, the other combing through his hair in short, steady strokes.

Tim rests his free hand on Tony's waist, because he's afraid he might be shaking. But Tony's shaking, too, so Tim just holds on when Tony tightens his grip, fingers curling into Tim's hair like he's afraid of letting go.