Keryl Raist's Blog, page 23
August 25, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 189
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 189: Shaving
It was not until he was attempting to take all of his body hair below his eyelashes off that it occurred to Tim that he had a lot of it.
In fact, until he was standing in the bathroom, trimmer in hand, he'd considered himself to be a very hairless guy.
Gibbs circa 1986.This is probably the result of having roomed with Tony or Gibbs hundreds of times, and both of them are fuzzy. Tony's practically got a pelt, and Gibbs is certainly covered in hair, too. (Granted, that hair is white, so it's a little more subtle than Tony's, but still, there's a ton of it.)
Meanwhile Tim's got, (or so he thought) about seventy-three chest hairs (three quarters of which are blond and practically invisible) all in the center of his chest, maybe twenty-two more that trail from his navel to his pubes, a fairly small and soft patch of pubic hair, about six stray hairs on his balls, some sparse underarm hair, almost entirely blond leg hair, and that's pretty much it. Not much hair, at all.
Of course, his self-assessment on this might have something to do with how rarely he really looks at himself in a mirror. Especially looks at himself naked, actually trying to see how much body hair he has.
And, really staring at himself, he suddenly seemed to have tons of it. (Seriously, when did he get hair on his feet, let alone his toes? Sure it's like two hairs per toe, but when the hell did that happen? He's fairly sure he didn't always have hair on his toes, but for the life of him he can't remember the last time he really looked at his naked feet.) And suddenly taking it all off seemed like an insane idea. He knows Abby can shave her legs in like, six minutes, but as he's looking at his, it seems like it should take a whole lot longer, and maybe he doesn't need to take it all off, he's a guy after all...
Tony and Abby at the pool. On the other hand, her legs feel great after she shaves them… And it's not like there'll be a lot of time for stuff like this in the future… And he's not thinking about making a real habit of it, he just wants to see what it feels like… So…
He fires up the trimmer and gets to work.
Abby was supposed to be out for another two hours. The plan was she'd be out, he'd get himself all hairless and naked, and then they'd spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, get dressed up, head out to dinner, then more sex before the hair started to grow back in and got all prickly.
And he was very diligently working away on that goal. He'd decided that one pass with the trimmer over everything was a good first step, then he'd get the razors and go to town. He'd gotten his legs, under arms, chest, and two thirds of his pubic hair trimmed off when she walked into the bathroom.
A few relevant facts of the McGee household:
About seventy-three chest hairs.A: While it is true that Tim isn't exactly an exhibitionist when it comes to his bathroom habits, he's also not particularly shy, either. He's a guy, and is used to peeing with an audience.
B: Abby, however, is not a guy, and does not appreciate an audience.
C: Since it's just the two of them, they do not lock, and very rarely close, doors.
D: Closed doors mean do not come in, and are respected.
E: Tim was alone in the house and thus did not bother to close the bathroom door.
So, he is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, one leg propped up high on the shower wall, trimmer in hand, getting the hair between his leg and testicle. He's covered in tiny, little, just clipped off hairs that he hasn't rinsed away yet, sitting in the midst of thousands more tiny, little, just clipped off hairs, unable to hear much over the buzzing of the clipper.
He did however hear it when Abby yelped, "Tim!"
He looked up, startled, (fortunately he didn't accidentally stab himself with the trimmers) and said, "You're home early."
"Yeah." She's staring at him, eyes very wide. "What are you doing?"
He's assuming this is a rhetorical question because it's got to be pretty damn obvious what he's doing. He's got trimmers in hand and is sitting in a forest of just clipped hairs, not like he's doing his taxes in here.
"I thought it'd be fun." He's smiling, looking a little uncomfortable, suddenly aware of the fact that he's never actually talked to Abby about her preferences when it comes to male fuzziness and that she might actually find this appalling.
But a slow, wide grin spreads across her face, and she says, "Can I watch?"
That wasn't something he was expecting. "You want to watch?"
"Oh yeah!" Her pigtails are practically vibrating she's so excited by this prospect.
"Okay." He contorted a little more, suddenly aware of the fact that his pubic hair goes all the way back to his anus, and that's going to be tricky to get, even without an audience, and that this a whole lot less dignified than he'd been hoping. "So… ummm… weren't you supposed to be watching Deadpool?"
"Movie sold out. I messed around a bit, but then decided to head home."
"Ahhh…"
She's noticing he's got the trimmers off and isn't doing anything. "Would you rather I didn't watch?"
"Sort of. Can't figure out how to do this without looking like a porn star."
That got another wide smile out of her, and he's fairly sure he knows what she's remembering, because he's remembering it too, and yeah, that was a lot of fun. "I like you looking like a porn star."
He grinned at that.
"And it's not like I haven't seen, touched, licked, and sucked all of you already."
"Okay, true."
She stepped up close behind him, trailed her fingers down his spine (one of the few bits of him currently not covered in tiny, little, newly clipped off hairs). "And, I'm guessing, you were kind of hoping I was going to touch, lick, and suck all of you again, otherwise that trimmer wouldn't be anywhere near there, right?"
"True."
"So…"
He nodded to the toilet seat and turned the trimmers back on. "Get comfy and please don't distract me."
She grinned, and he got back to work.
Rinsing off felt really good. Trimming resulted in an itchy, prickly, slightly sweaty combination he didn't much like. Rinsing it all off on the other hand meant that he was now wet, very naked (Jimmy wasn't kidding about things looking bigger after trimming the hair away, and he's almost embarrassed to admit how much he likes that.) and not smooth yet, but much less fuzzy than he's been at any point in his life since he was thirteen and started growing real body hair in the first place.
Abby tossed him the shaving cream and he started to lather up his left leg. And on one level it's kind of weird. He's shaving his leg. On another level it's soft and foamy and feels pretty nice. So he focuses on soft and foamy while reaching for the razor.
Abby shaves her legs once every three days, and Tim really appreciates the day she shaves. He's even more enthusiastic about the day after she waxes. Very soft, hairless skin is something he really likes. It feels excellent, and given the opportunity he'll just sit there, petting her, enjoying her skin.
Still, he wasn't prepared for how good his skin would feel when he rinsed off the last bit of the shaving cream residue from his right leg. In fact, wet, smooth, hairless legs blew his mind, and he's cursing at himself that he didn't figure this out sooner, like, say during all those years he was single, because he really could have had a whole lot of fun with this.
He's standing there, rubbing his left leg against his right, enjoying it, and Abby's giggling at him.
"Think you're going to do this again?"
"Depends on how accurate Jimmy was about how it feels when it grows back. But right now, this is awesome."
"Legs growing back in isn't an issue. At least it isn't for me." She stood up and gently stroked her hand over where his pubic hair was now a whole lot shorter, but not yet shaved off. "However, I'll tell you I think
waxing it off is more comfortable than having it grow back in."
"Ummm…" That has Tim's attention, and he looks really alarmed because having someone yank his pubic hair out sounds like torture to him. "It's that itchy?"
"Not so much intense as it lasts a few days."
"Errr… Should I do this?"
She just shrugs. "How good to your legs feel?"
He rubs them together again. "Really good."
She just looks at him with a smile on her face. "Want me to lather you up?"
"Yeah."
Okay, having someone rub shaving cream over your pubic hair is actually really nice. And kind of distracting. It took him about thirty seconds to remember why she was doing that. He remembered Jimmy's comment about having Breena shave him and, yeah, it didn't sound great when he heard it the first time, but right now it's sounding really good.
He popped a new blade onto his razor and handed it to her. "You wanna shave me?"
Her eyes went wide, lit up with joy, and a huge, bright smile spread across her lips. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Oh yes!" She's sitting on the side of the tub, he's standing in the tub, facing her. "Legs a bit further apart." So he widens his stance and she smiles up at him, turning on the faucet in the tub. Then she seems to realize that she's still dressed, so she flicks off the faucet.
"Okay, hold up, let me get out of this. Because I'm going to guess this is going to involve getting wet and probably foamy."
He's still grinning. "Certainly wouldn't mind if it did. After all this stuff is designed to make a blade slide over skin easily, probably makes bodies slide over each other pretty easy, too."
She's pulling her shirt over her head when he says that. Once she got it off she says, with a wicked smile, "Down, boy. Let's get the hair off of you before trying that."
Okay, yeah, he likes the thrill of almost getting caught. And yeah, with as hard as he got driving 130 with her next to him, he's sure there's a straight danger kick as well. But it's not like Tim actively seeks out danger for thrills. Sometimes dangerous things just hit him right, and they're awfully fun.
But this is just… Fuck!
It blows them all away.
She's holding his dick and balls with one hand, keeping them out of the way (made somewhat more difficult by the fact that he's rock hard) as she carefully runs the blade over his pelvis. After each stroke she washes the blade under the faucet, carefully cleaning it, and then heads to the next area, making sure to do long, gentle pulls.
It feels amazing. Very soft, very smooth, very dangerous, and God he likes it way too much.
Having someone shave your balls is… just… fuck… okay, it doesn't matter how annoying the growing back in is. It could feel like red hot ants are crawling all over his testicles and biting him, and he will still ask Abby to do this again.
And for as much as he didn't love the position he needed to get into for her to get the hairs around his anus and between his butt cheeks, the way having them shaved off felt… Holy Mother of God! that was all sorts of good.
Then Abby said, "You know, if you're all clean shaven, you should probably do me as well."
And… yep, it's a kick from the other side, though, since she waxes, he was only doing her legs. Still, smooth skin, sharp shiny blades, foamy shaving cream, and lots of hot, wet, nicely-scented skin touching.
It's all kinds of good.
And he did get the grow-back-in-softer-and-slower lotion as well, and rubbing that all over each other was a lot of fun, too.
So, yeah, he's a total danger junkie, and he's got no idea how he's ever going to be able to look at a razor again, let alone use one, without getting a hard on.
They're out of the bathroom, laying on their bed, and he's more naked than he's ever been as an adult. He trails his fingers over his dick and balls and the skin around them, absolutely marveling at how good that feels. And she's grinning at him, really getting off on watching him enjoy himself.
"Okay, honestly, I could spend a few hours just playing with myself. This is just…" He rubs one of his legs against hers. "God! If I could blow myself…" Cause he knows how much he likes the feel of her bare skin on his lips, so he assumes it'd be just as good on his. He rubs his legs together: soft, silky skin on skin. "Damn!"
Abby's petting him, too. "Wanna make it better?"
"How could this possibly be better?"
"Silk."
His eyes suddenly narrow and the blissed-out look on his face vanishes. "Errr… you mean like…" Because while it's true that he owns a few pieces of silk clothing, he's fairly sure she's not thinking about his tie collection.
She's still grinning away, looking really hopeful. "Like stockings or my kimono or one of the negligées."
Okay, yes, he wears a kilt in public, and makeup when they go out, but that's not cross-dressing. That's just different modes of being a guy. Stockings and her undies that's very much not just different modes of being a guy. And it's very true that he'd have an extremely difficult time explaining why it was okay to shave all of his hair off and wear a kilt, but not okay to put on some of her clothing, he's also very aware on a gut level that this is a really squirmy idea and not in a good way.
"No."
She can see how uncomfortable that idea is for him, so she just smiles, then heads to her dresser, and puts on a pair of silk stockings and a silk negligee then comes over and drapes herself all over him, and yeah, she was right, that feels amazing.
"I don't suppose you'd tie me up and just rub all over me?" Because right now, he can't think of anything that'll feel better than that.
"Of course, baby. Tie you spread eagle, get lots of good pictures, fuck you 'till you can't come anymore."
"Oh, God, yes. Please!"
She did get him tied, and got lots of pictures, and started to rub all over him, when it became suddenly very clear that not only can Abby not lie on her stomach anymore, it's not all that easy for her to bend at the middle. Which makes getting to certain bits of him, specifically the bits he's really hoping she'll get to, almost impossible if he's tied to the bed.
So, he was untied, and then retied using the ceiling hook. And maybe that's not quite as easy as lying in bed, but he's pretty sure it'll work out just fine.
And she is rubbing up all over him, hot skin under silk all over his skin, and Tim knows there's a difference between sensual and sexual but right now, this is the perfect combination of both of them.
It's not just that he's so hard he feel like he's going to pass out, though that is true. It's also that all of his skin is so happy it's singing, buzzing with pleasure. It's a surfeit of stimulation on any level his body can take, and it's so good he's just floating through it.
Then it got better.
"Up on the dresser."
He does as she tells him, and it's a little tricky to do without the use of his hands, but he does manage to get seated on top of the dresser while Abby heads to the closet and finds a pair of platform boots.
After all, the dresser is waist high on him, but she needs a few extra inches for that to be true.
She leaves on the stockings, but takes off the negligee, and then straps on her boots.
"You all clean?"
He nods his head eagerly. Tim loves having her eat him out, but since she's been pregnant he hasn't been willing to let her do it unless he's clean inside and out. No orgasm's worth risking her coming down with a nasty bacterial infection, especially when she's pregnant. But he'd certainly been hoping that if he shaved everything off, she'd be willing to lick every inch of hairless skin, so, yeah, he's clean enough for surgery. That was step one in this whole plan.
"Good."
She went to the toy box, got the lube, dilators, and strap-on. "Want the cock ring, too?"
"Abby…"
She looks up from sorting through their toys. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
She takes a step over, and kisses him gently. "Damn right you do!" She grins, and he grins back. "So, cock ring, too? Or you think you've got enough control on your own for this?"
He exhales long and slow. "Choices, choices… Grab it, and if I need it, I'll tell you."
"Sounds good."
She does, and then lays them all out next to him on the top of the dresser. He loves the anticipation of this, he can see them next to him, imagine what's going to come next, as her fingers trail from his lips to his cock, gently stroking over his skin.
"So, pretty little love, what exactly did you hope I'd do with you when you decided to take all your hair off?"
"I was hoping you'd rub all over me." He's sitting on the edge of the dresser, her standing between his legs, and she rubs her body along his, hips between his thighs, belly sliding over his cock, breasts against his chest, lips stroking over his neck and shoulder, as her hands rub over his arms.
He exhales slowly. "God, you feel so good on me. I love your skin."
She continues to slowly undulate against him, keeping up gentle slide and subtle friction. "And was this all you wanted? Just my skin moving on yours?"
"No. But if that's all you want to do, I'm good with it."
"Tell me what you want."
"Pull those two top drawers out a little." The top row of his dresser has three drawers. Pull the left and right ones out and whoever is on top of the dresser has a nice little foot rest. He hadn't been thinking about that when he bought it. He'd been thinking convenient place for boxers, socks, and ties, but it worked out really well for sex, too.
She did, and he propped his heels up. "I was hoping you'd tie me up, lick and suck my ass, then fuck me senseless."
"So, are you saying you want me to work you open with my tongue, then when you're all wet and soft, start with the glass, slipping them in one at a time, until you're wide open, then strap one on and fuck you until your cock's so hard I can see every single vein, and it throbs each time your heart beats?"
He inhales hard at that idea, and his eyes almost slide all the way shut. "Yes!"
"And how should I get you off once I've got you that hard? Pull out and suck you off? Jerk you off while I thrust? Grind against you, belly on your cock while I just keep pressing your prostate with my cock?"
"Grind, please!"
She lays a soft, wet kiss to his thigh, then stands between his legs, lips an inch from his. "And what will you do for me if I do that for you?"
"Anything, at all!"
"Anything?"
His eyes are glazed with lust and pleasure and focused squarely on hers. "Anything." It came out as a soft hot breath against her lips. "Tell me what you want, and I will do it."
She's grinning and then says, "Good. Stay put, I want to get a chair. I'm going to fuck you good and slow so something to sit on would be nice."
One thing Tim has noticed about when Abby's in charge is that she's really good at pacing. He felt the bead of pre cum slip down his cock when he said 'Anything,' but she took her time getting a chair, and that wilted him a little, took the edge off.
And she knows that. Knows that if she starts this with him too close to the edge, he'll slip over too soon and it won't be nearly as fun.
But if she works in little breaks, bits of down time, she can ramp him up so hard he'll be literally unable to see when he comes.
So, by the time she's returned with a chair, he's still very hard, but not quivering or leaking anymore.
He's eager, anticipating, and very, very turned on.
She's standing between his legs, eyes sparkling with sex, mischief, and joy, and says, "Where to begin?"
"Rhetorical question?"
"Not necessarily."
He wrapped his legs around her waist and pulled her close for a long, wet kiss. "This is always good."
She returned the kiss, running her fingers through his hair and down his back. "Yes, it is." Her hands cupped his ass and slid over his legs. "Very good indeed."
She began the long, slow trail of kisses down his throat and chest, nibbling and licking the now smooth skin. "Feels so good. Any time you want to do this, and I'm all in favor of it."
"Trust me, this is going into the regular rotation."
She rolled her tongue over his nipple, and he hummed a little at that. It feels okay. It doesn't do the same thing for him that him doing it to her does for her. But it's nice, and certainly looks pretty, and when she pulls it with her teeth while rubbing against his dick with her tummy, that certainly gets his attention.
He hissed at it, and she looked back up at him.
"Good?"
"Yeah, both at once, very good."
That got a grin. "How about this?" She stepped back a little, and then took his cock in her mouth while pulling her fingernails over both nipples.
"Fuck!"
"You like that?"
He's nodding yes, but says, "Maybe you could try it again, just to make sure?"
She laughed at that. "Maybe I could, but probably not today. I think today I'm supposed to be fucking you."
"That could be part of it."
"It could be, but not today." She patted his hip. "Got other places you want my mouth."
"True."
She kissed his knee. "Like here."
"That's good."
She trailed her tongue down the inside of his leg, pausing to carefully lick the crease between his leg and pelvis. "And here."
"God, yes, here is very good." And it is. It really is. His leg flopped over, giving her better access, and he twisted a little, trying to get more of her mouth against him.
She steadied his hips with her hands. "Calm baby, I'll get all of you, eventually." Her breath on wet skin sent another flush of pleasure through him. She caught that, the way he squirmed a little when she spoke, so she licked a wide, wet stripe, achingly close to where he wants her to touch, but not quite there, and then gently blew on it.
"Ohhh…" He arched into it. Silly really, not like you can get more pressure with breath, but his body wants it, so it tried to move into it.
Another soft, wet lick, this one across the crease where leg becomes buttock, followed by a happy squirm inducing breath.
She nibbles along that line, interspersing little wet licks with tiny not quite sharp bites, and his hands clench against the rope. He leans back, lets it take his weight, pushing his hips a little further over the edge of the dresser, anything to give her better access to his body.
"You're eager for this, aren't you?"
"God, yes!"
She shifted to his left leg, giving it the same treatment as his right, and he whined a little as she got closer and closer without actually touching where he wanted.
"Please, baby!"
"Please what?"
He spread his legs further apart. "Please stop teasing me."
He watched as she laid her hands on the insides of his thighs, hot skin on his, spread him a little further apart, and lowered her head. He jerked, cursing in a very pleased sort of way, when she licked from the tip of his tailbone to the back of his balls.
It's a hard position to move in. He can rest his feet in the drawers, but he can't really press down against them, and he's sort of balanced on his second to last vertebrae, so he can't really thrust, best he can do is curl his abs, pull up with them, get a little motion. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to thrust. He wants to grind into her, feel her tongue go deep and hard, and god, it's wet and squirmy and feels so goddamn good he doesn't know what to do with himself.
She's pulling him apart with her hands, giving herself better access, and it's all wet, hot, nasty, dirty, feels so good, and he can't believe she'll do it for him, and it's just so wrong and so right, and nothing else feels like this, wide open, completely vulnerable, with her tongue lapping away at him, nose and forehead rubbing his balls, it even sounds dirty, and makes him so hard. And he can't really see what she's doing, but he can see his dick, and it's rock hard, leaking, vibrating with each heartbeat, flushed purple he's so turned on, and like anytime she does something like this, he knows it's not enough, it won't get him off, but it'll drive him crazy with wanting, take him so high he's not all there anymore, burn off all of him that isn't lust and desire and pleasure and…
"Oh, fucking God, Abby!" she'd switched from lapping to working her tongue into him and that's just another level of so good all he can do is float on it, suffused with pleasure, glowing and babbling with it.
He whimpered when she pulled back and said, "Stand up."
He did it, though his legs and abs felt like Jello.
She reached up and untied him. If he was more with it, he'd notice that both of his arms were completely asleep. But really all he was doing was moaning quietly at not getting fucked any more.
"Lie on the bed, hips flush with the edge, feet on the floor."
He got it together enough to do that. And was finally starting to come down enough to realize his arms were on fire and his legs and abs knew they'd had a work out.
She stood between his legs, holding the lube and the first, smallest dilator. Lubed glass means almost no friction, and what she'd been doing with her tongue meant he was already pretty lose, well, for him, so he barely felt it slip in. Just a tiny bit of stretch, and she went back to licking him.
Her tongue lapping at his perineum, the dilator gently easing in and out, and once again he's so high there's not a single thought in his head beyond just feeling all of this.
It feels like it's taking forever. Like he's floating in a sea's worth of gently, steadily increasing pleasure.
She's rolling his balls on her tongue, and he feels like he's wide open, no idea how close to stretched out he is, but he feels loose and open, wanting nothing more than the feel of her flush on him, hard in him, riding him higher and higher as his muscles grow tighter, inching toward climax.
There's a little burn to go with the full, stretched feeling as she slides the next (last?) one in.
He's whimpering, head back, hands clenched in the blankets, trying to get her to touch his dick, desperate for just a hint of friction to get him off, and she stopped dead, flipping around so her pussy's at eye level.
He grabbed at her ass and hips, pulling her onto his mouth, licking and sucking like he's starving and she's the best meal he's ever seen. She's not touching him anymore. There's just the stretch from the glass and the taste/feel of her on his lips and tongue as she rides his face. And it's almost enough.
Anything would do it for him right now. A well placed breeze would get him off.
Abby moaning, crying as he eats her out, spreads her legs wider, touches with fingers, tongue, lips, and nose,and all of it goes straight to his cock. He's absolutely rigid, leaking, he can feel each drop of pre-cum ooze down the length of his dick, pooling on the naked skin at the base of his dick.
Her legs go tight on his shoulders, and he feels her shuddering over him. He slows, gentles his licks, but doesn't stop. He wants her taste, wants to bury himself in her, revel in the feel of her body hot and wet on his.
She pulls away after a few minutes, and he wasn't exactly on board with that plan, but he let her go, licking her juices off his lips.
"Watch."
So he does. Keeping his eyes on her as she steps into the strap on, pulling it snug over her hips. Sure, it fits a little oddly over her pregnant body, but they're fairly creative, and he's pretty handy, so adjusting the straps wasn't too much of an issue.
It's fairly thin, not very long, and she's stroking her hand over it, smoothing on the lube, and he has to look away because watching her jerk it off is going to make him come.
He's not sure if the fact that her wearing a fake dick turns him on so hard because he knows how what she'll do with it will feel, or if he loves the way it feels so much because of how it looks when she does it. Chicken, egg, no idea. But he does know that if it had been possible for him to get harder, it happened.
And he also knows that he was begging, flat out, no holds barred, pleading, with her to fuck him. Whimpering for it.
She knelt between his legs, and he propped himself on his elbows to watch. She eased the dilator out, and went back to licking him, rimming him, tongue slipping over and in and around in slick, wet, soft, sensations.
He's moaning, completely beyond words, beyond all thought past the need to get off.
Tim feels her shift his leg over her shoulder, and the hard, cold, thick feel of the plastic dick sliding into him. And usually the slide doesn't do much for him. Usually that's just part of getting to the feel of it rubbing his prostate and the gonna squirt, almost cumming feel of that pressure. But he's loose and open enough that it just slides in and that slide is delicious, taking him higher than he thinks he's ever been.
He has one leg over her shoulder as she thrusts up and in, hard, fast, tummy rubbing over his dick with each motion and he can't take much more of this, it's so good and so hot, and he's so hard, so gone in pleasure and violin string tight muscles clenching hard begging for just a little more friction to spill him over the edge and one more thrust and a sort of grind and Tim was gone, replaced with a burning, sparkling ball of pleasured drenched nerves, twitching, shaking, yelling her name as he comes in long, wet stripes over his stomach and chest and hers.
Chapter 189: Shaving
It was not until he was attempting to take all of his body hair below his eyelashes off that it occurred to Tim that he had a lot of it.
In fact, until he was standing in the bathroom, trimmer in hand, he'd considered himself to be a very hairless guy.
Gibbs circa 1986.This is probably the result of having roomed with Tony or Gibbs hundreds of times, and both of them are fuzzy. Tony's practically got a pelt, and Gibbs is certainly covered in hair, too. (Granted, that hair is white, so it's a little more subtle than Tony's, but still, there's a ton of it.)Meanwhile Tim's got, (or so he thought) about seventy-three chest hairs (three quarters of which are blond and practically invisible) all in the center of his chest, maybe twenty-two more that trail from his navel to his pubes, a fairly small and soft patch of pubic hair, about six stray hairs on his balls, some sparse underarm hair, almost entirely blond leg hair, and that's pretty much it. Not much hair, at all.
Of course, his self-assessment on this might have something to do with how rarely he really looks at himself in a mirror. Especially looks at himself naked, actually trying to see how much body hair he has.
And, really staring at himself, he suddenly seemed to have tons of it. (Seriously, when did he get hair on his feet, let alone his toes? Sure it's like two hairs per toe, but when the hell did that happen? He's fairly sure he didn't always have hair on his toes, but for the life of him he can't remember the last time he really looked at his naked feet.) And suddenly taking it all off seemed like an insane idea. He knows Abby can shave her legs in like, six minutes, but as he's looking at his, it seems like it should take a whole lot longer, and maybe he doesn't need to take it all off, he's a guy after all...
Tony and Abby at the pool. On the other hand, her legs feel great after she shaves them… And it's not like there'll be a lot of time for stuff like this in the future… And he's not thinking about making a real habit of it, he just wants to see what it feels like… So…He fires up the trimmer and gets to work.
Abby was supposed to be out for another two hours. The plan was she'd be out, he'd get himself all hairless and naked, and then they'd spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, get dressed up, head out to dinner, then more sex before the hair started to grow back in and got all prickly.
And he was very diligently working away on that goal. He'd decided that one pass with the trimmer over everything was a good first step, then he'd get the razors and go to town. He'd gotten his legs, under arms, chest, and two thirds of his pubic hair trimmed off when she walked into the bathroom.
A few relevant facts of the McGee household:
About seventy-three chest hairs.A: While it is true that Tim isn't exactly an exhibitionist when it comes to his bathroom habits, he's also not particularly shy, either. He's a guy, and is used to peeing with an audience.B: Abby, however, is not a guy, and does not appreciate an audience.
C: Since it's just the two of them, they do not lock, and very rarely close, doors.
D: Closed doors mean do not come in, and are respected.
E: Tim was alone in the house and thus did not bother to close the bathroom door.
So, he is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, one leg propped up high on the shower wall, trimmer in hand, getting the hair between his leg and testicle. He's covered in tiny, little, just clipped off hairs that he hasn't rinsed away yet, sitting in the midst of thousands more tiny, little, just clipped off hairs, unable to hear much over the buzzing of the clipper.
He did however hear it when Abby yelped, "Tim!"
He looked up, startled, (fortunately he didn't accidentally stab himself with the trimmers) and said, "You're home early."
"Yeah." She's staring at him, eyes very wide. "What are you doing?"
He's assuming this is a rhetorical question because it's got to be pretty damn obvious what he's doing. He's got trimmers in hand and is sitting in a forest of just clipped hairs, not like he's doing his taxes in here.
"I thought it'd be fun." He's smiling, looking a little uncomfortable, suddenly aware of the fact that he's never actually talked to Abby about her preferences when it comes to male fuzziness and that she might actually find this appalling.
But a slow, wide grin spreads across her face, and she says, "Can I watch?"
That wasn't something he was expecting. "You want to watch?"
"Oh yeah!" Her pigtails are practically vibrating she's so excited by this prospect.
"Okay." He contorted a little more, suddenly aware of the fact that his pubic hair goes all the way back to his anus, and that's going to be tricky to get, even without an audience, and that this a whole lot less dignified than he'd been hoping. "So… ummm… weren't you supposed to be watching Deadpool?"
"Movie sold out. I messed around a bit, but then decided to head home."
"Ahhh…"
She's noticing he's got the trimmers off and isn't doing anything. "Would you rather I didn't watch?"
"Sort of. Can't figure out how to do this without looking like a porn star."
That got another wide smile out of her, and he's fairly sure he knows what she's remembering, because he's remembering it too, and yeah, that was a lot of fun. "I like you looking like a porn star."
He grinned at that.
"And it's not like I haven't seen, touched, licked, and sucked all of you already."
"Okay, true."
She stepped up close behind him, trailed her fingers down his spine (one of the few bits of him currently not covered in tiny, little, newly clipped off hairs). "And, I'm guessing, you were kind of hoping I was going to touch, lick, and suck all of you again, otherwise that trimmer wouldn't be anywhere near there, right?"
"True."
"So…"
He nodded to the toilet seat and turned the trimmers back on. "Get comfy and please don't distract me."
She grinned, and he got back to work.
Rinsing off felt really good. Trimming resulted in an itchy, prickly, slightly sweaty combination he didn't much like. Rinsing it all off on the other hand meant that he was now wet, very naked (Jimmy wasn't kidding about things looking bigger after trimming the hair away, and he's almost embarrassed to admit how much he likes that.) and not smooth yet, but much less fuzzy than he's been at any point in his life since he was thirteen and started growing real body hair in the first place.
Abby tossed him the shaving cream and he started to lather up his left leg. And on one level it's kind of weird. He's shaving his leg. On another level it's soft and foamy and feels pretty nice. So he focuses on soft and foamy while reaching for the razor.
Abby shaves her legs once every three days, and Tim really appreciates the day she shaves. He's even more enthusiastic about the day after she waxes. Very soft, hairless skin is something he really likes. It feels excellent, and given the opportunity he'll just sit there, petting her, enjoying her skin.
Still, he wasn't prepared for how good his skin would feel when he rinsed off the last bit of the shaving cream residue from his right leg. In fact, wet, smooth, hairless legs blew his mind, and he's cursing at himself that he didn't figure this out sooner, like, say during all those years he was single, because he really could have had a whole lot of fun with this.
He's standing there, rubbing his left leg against his right, enjoying it, and Abby's giggling at him.
"Think you're going to do this again?"
"Depends on how accurate Jimmy was about how it feels when it grows back. But right now, this is awesome."
"Legs growing back in isn't an issue. At least it isn't for me." She stood up and gently stroked her hand over where his pubic hair was now a whole lot shorter, but not yet shaved off. "However, I'll tell you I think
waxing it off is more comfortable than having it grow back in."
"Ummm…" That has Tim's attention, and he looks really alarmed because having someone yank his pubic hair out sounds like torture to him. "It's that itchy?"
"Not so much intense as it lasts a few days."
"Errr… Should I do this?"
She just shrugs. "How good to your legs feel?"
He rubs them together again. "Really good."
She just looks at him with a smile on her face. "Want me to lather you up?"
"Yeah."
Okay, having someone rub shaving cream over your pubic hair is actually really nice. And kind of distracting. It took him about thirty seconds to remember why she was doing that. He remembered Jimmy's comment about having Breena shave him and, yeah, it didn't sound great when he heard it the first time, but right now it's sounding really good.
He popped a new blade onto his razor and handed it to her. "You wanna shave me?"
Her eyes went wide, lit up with joy, and a huge, bright smile spread across her lips. "Really?"
"Yeah."
"Oh yes!" She's sitting on the side of the tub, he's standing in the tub, facing her. "Legs a bit further apart." So he widens his stance and she smiles up at him, turning on the faucet in the tub. Then she seems to realize that she's still dressed, so she flicks off the faucet.
"Okay, hold up, let me get out of this. Because I'm going to guess this is going to involve getting wet and probably foamy."
He's still grinning. "Certainly wouldn't mind if it did. After all this stuff is designed to make a blade slide over skin easily, probably makes bodies slide over each other pretty easy, too."
She's pulling her shirt over her head when he says that. Once she got it off she says, with a wicked smile, "Down, boy. Let's get the hair off of you before trying that."
Okay, yeah, he likes the thrill of almost getting caught. And yeah, with as hard as he got driving 130 with her next to him, he's sure there's a straight danger kick as well. But it's not like Tim actively seeks out danger for thrills. Sometimes dangerous things just hit him right, and they're awfully fun.
But this is just… Fuck!
It blows them all away.
She's holding his dick and balls with one hand, keeping them out of the way (made somewhat more difficult by the fact that he's rock hard) as she carefully runs the blade over his pelvis. After each stroke she washes the blade under the faucet, carefully cleaning it, and then heads to the next area, making sure to do long, gentle pulls.
It feels amazing. Very soft, very smooth, very dangerous, and God he likes it way too much.
Having someone shave your balls is… just… fuck… okay, it doesn't matter how annoying the growing back in is. It could feel like red hot ants are crawling all over his testicles and biting him, and he will still ask Abby to do this again.
And for as much as he didn't love the position he needed to get into for her to get the hairs around his anus and between his butt cheeks, the way having them shaved off felt… Holy Mother of God! that was all sorts of good.
Then Abby said, "You know, if you're all clean shaven, you should probably do me as well."
And… yep, it's a kick from the other side, though, since she waxes, he was only doing her legs. Still, smooth skin, sharp shiny blades, foamy shaving cream, and lots of hot, wet, nicely-scented skin touching.
It's all kinds of good.
And he did get the grow-back-in-softer-and-slower lotion as well, and rubbing that all over each other was a lot of fun, too.
So, yeah, he's a total danger junkie, and he's got no idea how he's ever going to be able to look at a razor again, let alone use one, without getting a hard on.
They're out of the bathroom, laying on their bed, and he's more naked than he's ever been as an adult. He trails his fingers over his dick and balls and the skin around them, absolutely marveling at how good that feels. And she's grinning at him, really getting off on watching him enjoy himself.
"Okay, honestly, I could spend a few hours just playing with myself. This is just…" He rubs one of his legs against hers. "God! If I could blow myself…" Cause he knows how much he likes the feel of her bare skin on his lips, so he assumes it'd be just as good on his. He rubs his legs together: soft, silky skin on skin. "Damn!"
Abby's petting him, too. "Wanna make it better?"
"How could this possibly be better?"
"Silk."
His eyes suddenly narrow and the blissed-out look on his face vanishes. "Errr… you mean like…" Because while it's true that he owns a few pieces of silk clothing, he's fairly sure she's not thinking about his tie collection.
She's still grinning away, looking really hopeful. "Like stockings or my kimono or one of the negligées."
Okay, yes, he wears a kilt in public, and makeup when they go out, but that's not cross-dressing. That's just different modes of being a guy. Stockings and her undies that's very much not just different modes of being a guy. And it's very true that he'd have an extremely difficult time explaining why it was okay to shave all of his hair off and wear a kilt, but not okay to put on some of her clothing, he's also very aware on a gut level that this is a really squirmy idea and not in a good way.
"No."
She can see how uncomfortable that idea is for him, so she just smiles, then heads to her dresser, and puts on a pair of silk stockings and a silk negligee then comes over and drapes herself all over him, and yeah, she was right, that feels amazing.
"I don't suppose you'd tie me up and just rub all over me?" Because right now, he can't think of anything that'll feel better than that.
"Of course, baby. Tie you spread eagle, get lots of good pictures, fuck you 'till you can't come anymore."
"Oh, God, yes. Please!"
She did get him tied, and got lots of pictures, and started to rub all over him, when it became suddenly very clear that not only can Abby not lie on her stomach anymore, it's not all that easy for her to bend at the middle. Which makes getting to certain bits of him, specifically the bits he's really hoping she'll get to, almost impossible if he's tied to the bed.
So, he was untied, and then retied using the ceiling hook. And maybe that's not quite as easy as lying in bed, but he's pretty sure it'll work out just fine.
And she is rubbing up all over him, hot skin under silk all over his skin, and Tim knows there's a difference between sensual and sexual but right now, this is the perfect combination of both of them.
It's not just that he's so hard he feel like he's going to pass out, though that is true. It's also that all of his skin is so happy it's singing, buzzing with pleasure. It's a surfeit of stimulation on any level his body can take, and it's so good he's just floating through it.
Then it got better.
"Up on the dresser."
He does as she tells him, and it's a little tricky to do without the use of his hands, but he does manage to get seated on top of the dresser while Abby heads to the closet and finds a pair of platform boots.
After all, the dresser is waist high on him, but she needs a few extra inches for that to be true.
She leaves on the stockings, but takes off the negligee, and then straps on her boots.
"You all clean?"
He nods his head eagerly. Tim loves having her eat him out, but since she's been pregnant he hasn't been willing to let her do it unless he's clean inside and out. No orgasm's worth risking her coming down with a nasty bacterial infection, especially when she's pregnant. But he'd certainly been hoping that if he shaved everything off, she'd be willing to lick every inch of hairless skin, so, yeah, he's clean enough for surgery. That was step one in this whole plan.
"Good."
She went to the toy box, got the lube, dilators, and strap-on. "Want the cock ring, too?"
"Abby…"
She looks up from sorting through their toys. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
She takes a step over, and kisses him gently. "Damn right you do!" She grins, and he grins back. "So, cock ring, too? Or you think you've got enough control on your own for this?"
He exhales long and slow. "Choices, choices… Grab it, and if I need it, I'll tell you."
"Sounds good."
She does, and then lays them all out next to him on the top of the dresser. He loves the anticipation of this, he can see them next to him, imagine what's going to come next, as her fingers trail from his lips to his cock, gently stroking over his skin.
"So, pretty little love, what exactly did you hope I'd do with you when you decided to take all your hair off?"
"I was hoping you'd rub all over me." He's sitting on the edge of the dresser, her standing between his legs, and she rubs her body along his, hips between his thighs, belly sliding over his cock, breasts against his chest, lips stroking over his neck and shoulder, as her hands rub over his arms.
He exhales slowly. "God, you feel so good on me. I love your skin."
She continues to slowly undulate against him, keeping up gentle slide and subtle friction. "And was this all you wanted? Just my skin moving on yours?"
"No. But if that's all you want to do, I'm good with it."
"Tell me what you want."
"Pull those two top drawers out a little." The top row of his dresser has three drawers. Pull the left and right ones out and whoever is on top of the dresser has a nice little foot rest. He hadn't been thinking about that when he bought it. He'd been thinking convenient place for boxers, socks, and ties, but it worked out really well for sex, too.
She did, and he propped his heels up. "I was hoping you'd tie me up, lick and suck my ass, then fuck me senseless."
"So, are you saying you want me to work you open with my tongue, then when you're all wet and soft, start with the glass, slipping them in one at a time, until you're wide open, then strap one on and fuck you until your cock's so hard I can see every single vein, and it throbs each time your heart beats?"
He inhales hard at that idea, and his eyes almost slide all the way shut. "Yes!"
"And how should I get you off once I've got you that hard? Pull out and suck you off? Jerk you off while I thrust? Grind against you, belly on your cock while I just keep pressing your prostate with my cock?"
"Grind, please!"
She lays a soft, wet kiss to his thigh, then stands between his legs, lips an inch from his. "And what will you do for me if I do that for you?"
"Anything, at all!"
"Anything?"
His eyes are glazed with lust and pleasure and focused squarely on hers. "Anything." It came out as a soft hot breath against her lips. "Tell me what you want, and I will do it."
She's grinning and then says, "Good. Stay put, I want to get a chair. I'm going to fuck you good and slow so something to sit on would be nice."
One thing Tim has noticed about when Abby's in charge is that she's really good at pacing. He felt the bead of pre cum slip down his cock when he said 'Anything,' but she took her time getting a chair, and that wilted him a little, took the edge off.
And she knows that. Knows that if she starts this with him too close to the edge, he'll slip over too soon and it won't be nearly as fun.
But if she works in little breaks, bits of down time, she can ramp him up so hard he'll be literally unable to see when he comes.
So, by the time she's returned with a chair, he's still very hard, but not quivering or leaking anymore.
He's eager, anticipating, and very, very turned on.
She's standing between his legs, eyes sparkling with sex, mischief, and joy, and says, "Where to begin?"
"Rhetorical question?"
"Not necessarily."
He wrapped his legs around her waist and pulled her close for a long, wet kiss. "This is always good."
She returned the kiss, running her fingers through his hair and down his back. "Yes, it is." Her hands cupped his ass and slid over his legs. "Very good indeed."
She began the long, slow trail of kisses down his throat and chest, nibbling and licking the now smooth skin. "Feels so good. Any time you want to do this, and I'm all in favor of it."
"Trust me, this is going into the regular rotation."
She rolled her tongue over his nipple, and he hummed a little at that. It feels okay. It doesn't do the same thing for him that him doing it to her does for her. But it's nice, and certainly looks pretty, and when she pulls it with her teeth while rubbing against his dick with her tummy, that certainly gets his attention.
He hissed at it, and she looked back up at him.
"Good?"
"Yeah, both at once, very good."
That got a grin. "How about this?" She stepped back a little, and then took his cock in her mouth while pulling her fingernails over both nipples.
"Fuck!"
"You like that?"
He's nodding yes, but says, "Maybe you could try it again, just to make sure?"
She laughed at that. "Maybe I could, but probably not today. I think today I'm supposed to be fucking you."
"That could be part of it."
"It could be, but not today." She patted his hip. "Got other places you want my mouth."
"True."
She kissed his knee. "Like here."
"That's good."
She trailed her tongue down the inside of his leg, pausing to carefully lick the crease between his leg and pelvis. "And here."
"God, yes, here is very good." And it is. It really is. His leg flopped over, giving her better access, and he twisted a little, trying to get more of her mouth against him.
She steadied his hips with her hands. "Calm baby, I'll get all of you, eventually." Her breath on wet skin sent another flush of pleasure through him. She caught that, the way he squirmed a little when she spoke, so she licked a wide, wet stripe, achingly close to where he wants her to touch, but not quite there, and then gently blew on it.
"Ohhh…" He arched into it. Silly really, not like you can get more pressure with breath, but his body wants it, so it tried to move into it.
Another soft, wet lick, this one across the crease where leg becomes buttock, followed by a happy squirm inducing breath.
She nibbles along that line, interspersing little wet licks with tiny not quite sharp bites, and his hands clench against the rope. He leans back, lets it take his weight, pushing his hips a little further over the edge of the dresser, anything to give her better access to his body.
"You're eager for this, aren't you?"
"God, yes!"
She shifted to his left leg, giving it the same treatment as his right, and he whined a little as she got closer and closer without actually touching where he wanted.
"Please, baby!"
"Please what?"
He spread his legs further apart. "Please stop teasing me."
He watched as she laid her hands on the insides of his thighs, hot skin on his, spread him a little further apart, and lowered her head. He jerked, cursing in a very pleased sort of way, when she licked from the tip of his tailbone to the back of his balls.
It's a hard position to move in. He can rest his feet in the drawers, but he can't really press down against them, and he's sort of balanced on his second to last vertebrae, so he can't really thrust, best he can do is curl his abs, pull up with them, get a little motion. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to thrust. He wants to grind into her, feel her tongue go deep and hard, and god, it's wet and squirmy and feels so goddamn good he doesn't know what to do with himself.
She's pulling him apart with her hands, giving herself better access, and it's all wet, hot, nasty, dirty, feels so good, and he can't believe she'll do it for him, and it's just so wrong and so right, and nothing else feels like this, wide open, completely vulnerable, with her tongue lapping away at him, nose and forehead rubbing his balls, it even sounds dirty, and makes him so hard. And he can't really see what she's doing, but he can see his dick, and it's rock hard, leaking, vibrating with each heartbeat, flushed purple he's so turned on, and like anytime she does something like this, he knows it's not enough, it won't get him off, but it'll drive him crazy with wanting, take him so high he's not all there anymore, burn off all of him that isn't lust and desire and pleasure and…
"Oh, fucking God, Abby!" she'd switched from lapping to working her tongue into him and that's just another level of so good all he can do is float on it, suffused with pleasure, glowing and babbling with it.
He whimpered when she pulled back and said, "Stand up."
He did it, though his legs and abs felt like Jello.
She reached up and untied him. If he was more with it, he'd notice that both of his arms were completely asleep. But really all he was doing was moaning quietly at not getting fucked any more.
"Lie on the bed, hips flush with the edge, feet on the floor."
He got it together enough to do that. And was finally starting to come down enough to realize his arms were on fire and his legs and abs knew they'd had a work out.
She stood between his legs, holding the lube and the first, smallest dilator. Lubed glass means almost no friction, and what she'd been doing with her tongue meant he was already pretty lose, well, for him, so he barely felt it slip in. Just a tiny bit of stretch, and she went back to licking him.
Her tongue lapping at his perineum, the dilator gently easing in and out, and once again he's so high there's not a single thought in his head beyond just feeling all of this.
It feels like it's taking forever. Like he's floating in a sea's worth of gently, steadily increasing pleasure.
She's rolling his balls on her tongue, and he feels like he's wide open, no idea how close to stretched out he is, but he feels loose and open, wanting nothing more than the feel of her flush on him, hard in him, riding him higher and higher as his muscles grow tighter, inching toward climax.
There's a little burn to go with the full, stretched feeling as she slides the next (last?) one in.
He's whimpering, head back, hands clenched in the blankets, trying to get her to touch his dick, desperate for just a hint of friction to get him off, and she stopped dead, flipping around so her pussy's at eye level.
He grabbed at her ass and hips, pulling her onto his mouth, licking and sucking like he's starving and she's the best meal he's ever seen. She's not touching him anymore. There's just the stretch from the glass and the taste/feel of her on his lips and tongue as she rides his face. And it's almost enough.
Anything would do it for him right now. A well placed breeze would get him off.
Abby moaning, crying as he eats her out, spreads her legs wider, touches with fingers, tongue, lips, and nose,and all of it goes straight to his cock. He's absolutely rigid, leaking, he can feel each drop of pre-cum ooze down the length of his dick, pooling on the naked skin at the base of his dick.
Her legs go tight on his shoulders, and he feels her shuddering over him. He slows, gentles his licks, but doesn't stop. He wants her taste, wants to bury himself in her, revel in the feel of her body hot and wet on his.
She pulls away after a few minutes, and he wasn't exactly on board with that plan, but he let her go, licking her juices off his lips.
"Watch."
So he does. Keeping his eyes on her as she steps into the strap on, pulling it snug over her hips. Sure, it fits a little oddly over her pregnant body, but they're fairly creative, and he's pretty handy, so adjusting the straps wasn't too much of an issue.
It's fairly thin, not very long, and she's stroking her hand over it, smoothing on the lube, and he has to look away because watching her jerk it off is going to make him come.
He's not sure if the fact that her wearing a fake dick turns him on so hard because he knows how what she'll do with it will feel, or if he loves the way it feels so much because of how it looks when she does it. Chicken, egg, no idea. But he does know that if it had been possible for him to get harder, it happened.
And he also knows that he was begging, flat out, no holds barred, pleading, with her to fuck him. Whimpering for it.
She knelt between his legs, and he propped himself on his elbows to watch. She eased the dilator out, and went back to licking him, rimming him, tongue slipping over and in and around in slick, wet, soft, sensations.
He's moaning, completely beyond words, beyond all thought past the need to get off.
Tim feels her shift his leg over her shoulder, and the hard, cold, thick feel of the plastic dick sliding into him. And usually the slide doesn't do much for him. Usually that's just part of getting to the feel of it rubbing his prostate and the gonna squirt, almost cumming feel of that pressure. But he's loose and open enough that it just slides in and that slide is delicious, taking him higher than he thinks he's ever been.
He has one leg over her shoulder as she thrusts up and in, hard, fast, tummy rubbing over his dick with each motion and he can't take much more of this, it's so good and so hot, and he's so hard, so gone in pleasure and violin string tight muscles clenching hard begging for just a little more friction to spill him over the edge and one more thrust and a sort of grind and Tim was gone, replaced with a burning, sparkling ball of pleasured drenched nerves, twitching, shaking, yelling her name as he comes in long, wet stripes over his stomach and chest and hers.
August 23, 2013
The Wedding Album
Bits and pieces that didn't quite make it into the story/images with no plot that I wanted to share. All captions have a link embedded and that link will take you to the original source.
Middle of Nowhere Park before set up.
After signing the ketubah.
Gibbs dancing with Ziva at the reception, the father/daughter dance. Him in a black tux, her in the white wedding dress. He has his hands cupped around her face, kissing her forehead.
Ketubah close up.
At the post-work impromptu David-DiNozzo engagement party.
Picking up the marriage license.
Close up on Tony and Ziva’s face during the first dance, and the look of all-encompassing love in both of their eyes.
Tony and Ziva’s last dance, he’s holding her close, and they’re moving slower, less flirty, much more intense, ready for the next part of the night to begin. His fingers rest against her cheek and lip, and her eyes are open with an invitation to touch more.
Hugs and smooches for the soon to be FIL
After the signing of the ketubah, at the B&B, Senior dancing with Ziva. Her head is back, eyes closed, she’s laughing. He’s got a wicked smile on his face, having just told her a very dirty and completely inappropriate joke.
Schmiel, Ducky, and Senior, sitting at the table, talking about something, all of them happy and laughing.
Ducky and Abby all dressed up for the Ketubah signing.
Ducky twirling Penny away from him on the dance floor. If it was video you’d see him take one step over, and Penny spin under his arm, coming flush to his chest again. The bodies get older and slower, but they remember the moves and the joy of them.
Tim and Abby dancing together at the reception. She’d kicked her shoes off. His tie was loose, top button undone. Her head rested on his shoulder. Both of them had their eyes closed. She had one hand on his shoulder, and he was holding her other one (though you can’t see that in the shot), his other hand rested against her belly.
When he got a copy of it, it went behind his desk, below the sonogram, with “Dancing with my girls” written on the bottom left.
An hour to go, time to head to the site.
Gibbs and his girls. He’s standing in the middle, Abby on his left, arm around him. Breena’s on his right, head on his shoulder. Ziva’s in front, he has his arms wrapped around her. The photographer forgot everyone’s names almost before he’d been told them, but no one corrected him when he called Gibbs “Father of the Bride.”
Tim made sure to get a copy of it. Abby framed it. Come Father’s Day, Gibbs was getting a present.
Gibbs and his boys. He’s got an arm around Tony, his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and Jimmy’s leaning against Tim’s other side.
Tim made sure to get a copy of that, too. It’s also getting framed and wrapped. If Kelly co-operates and shows up a little early, he’s going to get one of Gibbs holding Kelly and Molly to make up a triptych for him.
Full shot of the Gibbs clan. Jimmy and Breena on the left, Ducky and Penny next to them, Tim and Abby, Gibbs next to her, Ziva on his other side Tony beside her, and Senior taking the right.
Bridal bouquet ready to go.
Profile shot, Tim and Jimmy leaning against the bar, drinks in hand, looking away from the camera.
It’s out of the shot, but they’re watching Abby and Breena dance with each other. But it’s very clear on their faces they’re seeing something deeply satisfying that they enjoy immensely.
Abby and Breena dancing. Abby’s leading. Breena has her head on Abby’s shoulder. Both of them are smiling.
About three minutes later, all four of them dancing together.
Link
Tony holding a bite of cake, wide smile, eyes sparkling, Ziva leaning very far back, wary expression on her face, not sure if he’s going to try and smush it into her face or not.
Half a minute later, Ziva kissing the tip of his finger after eating the bite of cake, pleased that he didn't try to smush it on her.
The garden/dining/dance area
Middle of Nowhere Park before set up.
After signing the ketubah.Gibbs dancing with Ziva at the reception, the father/daughter dance. Him in a black tux, her in the white wedding dress. He has his hands cupped around her face, kissing her forehead.
Ketubah close up.
At the post-work impromptu David-DiNozzo engagement party.Picking up the marriage license.Close up on Tony and Ziva’s face during the first dance, and the look of all-encompassing love in both of their eyes.
Tony and Ziva’s last dance, he’s holding her close, and they’re moving slower, less flirty, much more intense, ready for the next part of the night to begin. His fingers rest against her cheek and lip, and her eyes are open with an invitation to touch more.
Hugs and smooches for the soon to be FILAfter the signing of the ketubah, at the B&B, Senior dancing with Ziva. Her head is back, eyes closed, she’s laughing. He’s got a wicked smile on his face, having just told her a very dirty and completely inappropriate joke.
Schmiel, Ducky, and Senior, sitting at the table, talking about something, all of them happy and laughing.
Ducky and Abby all dressed up for the Ketubah signing.Ducky twirling Penny away from him on the dance floor. If it was video you’d see him take one step over, and Penny spin under his arm, coming flush to his chest again. The bodies get older and slower, but they remember the moves and the joy of them.
Tim and Abby dancing together at the reception. She’d kicked her shoes off. His tie was loose, top button undone. Her head rested on his shoulder. Both of them had their eyes closed. She had one hand on his shoulder, and he was holding her other one (though you can’t see that in the shot), his other hand rested against her belly.
When he got a copy of it, it went behind his desk, below the sonogram, with “Dancing with my girls” written on the bottom left.
An hour to go, time to head to the site.Gibbs and his girls. He’s standing in the middle, Abby on his left, arm around him. Breena’s on his right, head on his shoulder. Ziva’s in front, he has his arms wrapped around her. The photographer forgot everyone’s names almost before he’d been told them, but no one corrected him when he called Gibbs “Father of the Bride.”
Tim made sure to get a copy of it. Abby framed it. Come Father’s Day, Gibbs was getting a present.
Gibbs and his boys. He’s got an arm around Tony, his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and Jimmy’s leaning against Tim’s other side.
Tim made sure to get a copy of that, too. It’s also getting framed and wrapped. If Kelly co-operates and shows up a little early, he’s going to get one of Gibbs holding Kelly and Molly to make up a triptych for him.
Full shot of the Gibbs clan. Jimmy and Breena on the left, Ducky and Penny next to them, Tim and Abby, Gibbs next to her, Ziva on his other side Tony beside her, and Senior taking the right.
Bridal bouquet ready to go.Profile shot, Tim and Jimmy leaning against the bar, drinks in hand, looking away from the camera.
It’s out of the shot, but they’re watching Abby and Breena dance with each other. But it’s very clear on their faces they’re seeing something deeply satisfying that they enjoy immensely.
Abby and Breena dancing. Abby’s leading. Breena has her head on Abby’s shoulder. Both of them are smiling.
About three minutes later, all four of them dancing together.
LinkTony holding a bite of cake, wide smile, eyes sparkling, Ziva leaning very far back, wary expression on her face, not sure if he’s going to try and smush it into her face or not.
Half a minute later, Ziva kissing the tip of his finger after eating the bite of cake, pleased that he didn't try to smush it on her.
The garden/dining/dance areaAugust 22, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 187
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 187: A Reception
They returned to DC for the reception. The Ruther’s Estate Country Club had the advantage of being located not too far away from everyone’s homes, having a small, intimate space they could eat in, and beautiful gardens (more blooming cherry trees) set with a dance floor.
Which was when it occurred to Tim that there is a downside of a small wedding. When you’re the best man and maid of honor in a wedding with twenty-four people, it’s pretty hard to just slip away for ten or so minutes.
Everyone can tell at a glance if someone is missing.
So you need a distraction.
LinkUnfortunately Tony and Ziva’s wedding seemed to be really short on distractions. Scrumptious food, swing music, beautiful settings (cherry trees wrapped in white Christmas lights, tea lights flickering in crystal vases, and everything decked in white and pink roses and more cherry blossoms), an elegant white on white cake, all of that was available aplenty. Ten minutes where no one was looking for them, not so much.
He’d scouted the terrain two weeks ago when he and Tony showed up to pay the last deposit and make sure the arrangements were all set. The garden was more or less made for trysting. It had about six little alcoves, some even with benches, tucked away from the sight of pretty much everyone else.
He’d found an especially nice one: maybe ten by ten, high stone wall covered in ivy on two sides, hedge on the third and half of the fourth, two weeping willows bracketed a small stone koi pond, and a wrought iron bench sat right next to it. All he had to do was get them there.
Apparently Jimmy was having a similar issue. The girls were dancing with Schmiel and Gibbs, when Jimmy drifted over to him and asked, “How long is your speech?”
Tim thought it through. “Three minutes, maybe a little faster if I talk quickly.”
Jimmy thought about that. “Too fast. What if you talk slow and ad lib some.”
“No! I’m horrible at ad libbing. Talk slow I can maybe get it to five. Why?”
Jimmy smiled dryly. “The same reason you want me to do something to draw attention away from you and Abby.”
Tim laughed at that. “Properly celebrating the wedding?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy’s grinning. “This is so much easier when there’s fifty people around.”
“I’m noticing that.” He thought about something else for a second. “Did you slip off during my wedding?”
“Of course. No one’s looking at anyone other than the bride and groom during the cake part.”
Link“Good point.” Tim eyes the cake. “That’ll probably take a few minutes.”
“Schmiel tells me singing is traditionally part of celebrating a Jewish wedding.”
Tim nodded. “You could probably get him to sing something with you right after that.”
“I probably could. You could probably get Abby to come up with a quick, off the cuff toast to go with yours.”
“I probably could.”
They’ve both got wide smiles on their faces, satisfaction at having a plan in place.
So, five months pregnant means the traditional up against the wall quickie is out. (Which was why Tim was scouting the territory ahead of time. Every building on Earth has a chunk of wall in a somewhat-less-than-easily-accessible location, finding a place to sit or kneel is more of a challenge.)
But when the MC called everyone together for the cutting of the cake, he took Abby’s hand, whispered in her ear, “Jimmy bought us ten minutes,” and they edged away from everyone else, deeper into the garden.
And like the last two times, it’s fast, and naughty, and so wrong, and feels so good, and he’s just so incredibly in love with this woman.
He’s sitting across the bench, and she’s in his lap, one leg snug between his hips and the back of the bench, other foot on the ground, and that position’s intentional, he wants to look her in the eye, touch her face, kiss her. Face to face sex is getting rarer as Kelly gets bigger, but this still works for the time being.
He’s babbling a little, telling her how much he loves her, how good she feels. But he feels her breath on his thumb as he draws it across her lower lip, and that focuses him, makes him very aware of his own breath, and he remembers a promise he made to her silently at Jimmy and Breena’s wedding, and out loud the day after he almost froze to death, one he modified a little for his wedding vows.
“From this day to my last, I will be here and I will love you.” He kisses her, holding her face in his hands as she stills on him. “This breath to my last and all the ones in between are yours, Abby.”
She’s smiling brilliantly, then kisses him, slipping against him, spreading a flush of pleasure through him. “This life and the next, Tim, I will always love you.” Those words carried him over the edge, and a second later she joined him, shuddering in wet, joyful pulses.
Namaste. They’d been talking about it a few days ago. Abby had gotten a new yoga video. They’d both decided it was time to try some new moves. The video started and ended with that, and he’d been under the impression it was more or less Hindi for hello/goodbye. Abby thought it was a bit deeper than that. Thirty seconds of googling later and half an hour of reading showed they were both right. But, deeper meant something like the (insert good thing here, love, joy, intellect, whatever) in my soul recognizes yours. For the most part for Tim it’s just a word, but right now he feels it.
The love in his soul rejoicing at the love in hers, floating in Tony and Ziva’s, Jimmy and Breena’s, and reveling it. That’s probably as close to metaphysical as he’ll ever get, but that’s fine.
They’re here, together, celebrating the love that makes life rich, vibrant, and glorious.
Link“And how does it feel to know you have gotten all of your ‘kids’ married off?” Ducky asks Jethro as he sits next to him.
“Not bad at all, Duck, not bad at all.” He’s got a soft smile on his face as he watches Tony and Ziva dance with each other.
“I’d imagine it is satisfying to have all your dear ones settled.”
“Not all of them.”
Ducky sends Gibbs a questioning look.
Gibbs’ gaze lands on Penny, who’s dancing with Tim and Abby. “Might be nice to be the best man at one of these things.”
Ducky smiles at that, then shook his head a little. “I’m afraid best man duty will be confined to Fornell’s wedding.”
Gibbs’ eyebrows shot up. He had thought Ducky and Penny were getting on very well. Ducky sees the alarm in his expression and says, “Nothing like that Jethro. We are old. Our estates and wills are set, and a marriage would only complicate things. Her semester at the University of Pennsylvania will be ending in May, and after that, Penny will be buying half of my home, and we will vest full rights of survivorship upon each other.”
Gibbs nods. That makes sense to him.
“Beyond that, we have comfortable retirements set up. She does not need my money, nor I hers. However, if you were to feel like hosting an intimate family celebration in our honor come May, I can assure you that would be welcome. If you like, you can even give a speech.” There’s a slightly teasing tone in Ducky’s voice as he says that.
“Just might.”
“Perhaps you’d set the record for the shortest best man’s toast?”
“Maybe.” Gibbs grins.
Ducky watches as Jimmy cuts in, whirling Penny away from Tim and Abby, Breena joining them. He looks away from them to Jethro’s hand, where his wedding band is still on his fourth finger.
“I find it somewhat amusing to think that this late in my life, I’ve found, for all practical purposes a wife, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I find it more amusing to see how intensely happy it makes me, and how stupid I feel for not having sought it out sooner.”
Gibbs nods, looking away from the dance floor to Ducky.
“Jethro, do not wait until you’re my age to go after it. You’re so close to having what you want out of life. Don’t keep waiting until your days are numbered in years and not decades.”
“I’m getting there, Duck.”
“Good.”
One of the upsides of a twentyish person wedding is that it’s pretty easy to get everyone’s attention when it’s time for the Best Man toast. Likewise, Tim knows everyone in this group, it’s family and close friends, hell, the only person here he doesn’t know is Daphine, so it’s not like this is nerve wracking.
Which is good, because he really doesn’t love public speaking.
But it’s time. The DJ gives him the microphone, which seems a little weird, there’s not a lot of people and they’re in a fairly small room, but messing with it buys Jimmy and Breena, who vanished ten seconds ago, another forty seconds.
Tony and Ziva are watching him, Ziva sitting in Tony’s lap, Tony’s arms wrapped around her, her head resting against his shoulder.
Tim smiles at them and begins. “Sometimes you can look at two people and know. They just fit. Where the one zigs the other zags and you can line them up like the edges of the jigsaw puzzle.” He puts the mic down and twines his fingers together, demonstrating the idea. That being exactly as far as he’s willing to go when it comes to ad libbing. If he goes any further off script, this’ll become a rambling disaster.
“And then there’s Tony and Ziva, who did everything they possibly could for as long as humanly possible to deny it.” Tim had been addressing the room, but he turned to face them. “I’d like to take this moment to say something to both of you, something I’ve been waiting almost a decade to say…
“I told you so!”
Tim was very pleased to see that get a laugh. He’d been fairly nervous that line would fall flat or they’d take it wrong, but fortunately, like Abby said it would, it went over well.
“Ten years ago my first book came out. And in that book ‘Tommy’ and ‘Lisa’ took one look at each other and fell madly in lust. Two books later it had grown into love. Meanwhile these two were doing everything in their power to pretend that’s just so not happening. To the point where this one,” he pointed to Ziva, “actually called me up, made me come to her home, and hit me upside the back of the head with the book when they first said, ‘I love you.’ Hard!”
He paused again, letting the laughter run down, and heard Tony say quietly, “Hello, Pot, it’s Kettle, you’re black.”
He smiled at Tony and nodded, acknowledging that technically, he and Abby had taken even longer, then continued, “And the only reason he didn’t do exactly the same thing was because he didn’t read that book until after they had hooked up.”
Tim paused again, let the laughing die down, and finished up, “So, I’ll admit, standing here at your wedding, having spent more than a decade watching you two finally own up to the fact that you fit, perfectly, to feeling, well, a little vindicated and a whole lot smug.” Tim grinned, laid his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and kissed Ziva’s cheek, his voice shifting to something less humorous, more sincere. “And I’m also feeling deeply, profoundly grateful that you two did figure it out, and that I am here to see you celebrate your love and your commitment to spending the rest of your lives together, because if there ever were two people who deserved the joy of finding the one who fits, it’s you two.”
Tim lifted his glass. “To Tony and Ziva and the love and life they’ll share.”
They’d all drunk, and he was getting ready to hand the microphone to Abby to stretch it out a little longer when he saw Jimmy and Breena sneak back in. He raised his eyebrow, and Jimmy nodded. Tim smirked, that was, at most, four and a half minutes. He doesn’t know if he should be jealous of Jimmy or pity him.
LinkHe got Jimmy alone an hour later. “Four and a half minutes?”
“Four and a quarter, had to get there and back.”
Which made Tim realize that fifteen seconds of getting there and back meant they were literally right outside the dining room, probably about two feet away from the sliding glass door that separated it from the garden, and in full view of anyone who might have walked outside.
“How do you even do that?”
Jimmy grinned, wide, happy, no filters in place, vast wodges of TMI about to come sloshing out, and Tim quickly held up a hand saying, “In general, don’t need specifics.”
Jimmy’s grin didn’t waver. “Practice.”
Tim laughed. “Time to grab Tony and give him his present?”
Jimmy checked his watch: 10:35. They’d probably want to wrap things up sooner rather than later. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll get him. You get it. Meet at my car?”
“Sounds good.”
Tony was dancing with Ziva, and Tim decided to wait for the song to end before wandering over. “Can I borrow your husband, Mrs. DiNozzo?”
Tony’s looking at him curiously, wondering what’s going on. Ziva’s smiling. “And will you return him promptly?”
“Won’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
Now he’s really got Tony’s attention.
“Then you may have him.”
“Good. Come on.” He’s smiling brightly, really enjoying the wary look on Tony’s face as he follows Tim into the parking lot.
“Okay, why are you dragging me out here?” He sees Jimmy leaning against Tim’s car. “Okay, why are both of you dragging me out here?”
“He’s dragging, I’m lying in wait,” Jimmy says.
Tony notices the bag sitting next to Jimmy on the hood of Tim’s car.
“What is that?”
Tim slaps him on the shoulder, and Jimmy laughs, both of them really enjoying this.
Tim starts: “We know you wanted something a lot sexier for your bachelor party, and well, neither of us may be big on strip clubs and lap dances from strangers, but we’re also firmly in favor of you having a hell of a good time with your wife. So…”
Jimmy hands him the bag. It’s a plain, brown paper, Whole Food’s bag, and it’s heavy. “Honeymoon fun pack.”
“Oh God, what the hell is in there?” Tony’s looking halfway between really disturbed and ready to burst out laughing as he looks into it.
“Fun stuff,” Jimmy says, “Lube—“
“Good stuff, lasts forever, won’t dry out,” Tim adds.
“Condoms—“
“Why do I want condoms? What am I, fifteen?”
Tim rolls his eyes, and Jimmy gives him a really, you need us to spell it out look. Tony stares at them and then seems to get what they’re talking about and a very dirty smile spreads across his face as he says, “Oh.”
“More lube that actually tastes good,” Jimmy’s talking, but Tim’s shaking his head no. Of course, he doesn’t like any of the flavored ones just as a matter of principle, but Breena liked the variety pack they got, and Abby said it was good, too. And, well, yeah, he didn’t mind the ‘homework’ that Abby did on multiple brands to see what the good ones were. And he’s assuming Jimmy likewise approved of Breena’s test of lube flavor. Jimmy’s still talking and Tim think’s he missed a few sentences there, but caught back up with, “…Tim added some satin ropes. Cock ring, since you’ve mentioned the can’t-get-it-up-six-times-a-day thing, that’ll help with that. Fourteen little blue pills, too, don’t take more than one of them a day, okay?”
Tony’s stunned by that. “Wait, what?”
“You forgot Jimmy can write prescriptions, didn’t you?” Tim says, while Jimmy just keeps grinning.
Stunned has turned to horrified as Tony stammers, “I don’t need—“
Jimmy cut in, “Neither of us think you do. Just, assuming you, or more importantly Ziva, doesn’t want to leave your hotel room, you’ve got back up now.” Jimmy’s having way too good a time with this, his smile is so big his face looks in danger of cracking.
Tony’s staring at him curiously. “Is that what you meant by ‘day before yesterday’?”
Jimmy nods.
Tim takes over on the inventory. “Let’s see, three different vibrators, batteries for them, that’s part of why it’s heavy. There’s an adaptor for the one that plugs in.”
Tony’s staring into the bag. “How many batteries are in there?”
“A lot. You won’t run out. Mini Kama Sutra. Mini Joy of Sex. 1001 Sex Positions—“
“You guys know I’ve had sex before? A whole lot of sex.”
“Sure. Hence this stuff, you’re going to have to go deep to find new stuff, and we’ve made sure you’ve got everything you need to whip something new out on Ziva,” Jimmy says.
“LED candles for mood lighting.” Tim picked up a small, nicely-wrapped rectangle. It’s even got a bow on it. “What’s this?”
“No idea. Breena stuck it in there.” Jimmy sorted through a bit and came up with another, larger, also wrapped square. Tim recognized the wrapping paper on this one. “Abby added one, too.”
“Huh. We don’t know what the girls thought you’d need, but it’s in there.”
“What is this?” Tony’s holding something that looks like a collection of small to larger spheres on a flexible plastic rod.
“Anal beads,” Tim says matter-of-factly.
“Tim’s idea.” Jimmy adds, clearly signaling wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole let alone buy them for you.
Tim catches that and says, “What? They’re fun.”
Tony drops them back into the bag. “If I’ve already got condoms for that, why do I want those?”
Tim looks really cocky, and Tony’s wondering exactly how much he’s had to drink. “Who says they’re for her? I mean, I guess you could use them on her, but she doesn’t have a prostate, so…”
Tony closes his eyes and winces a little. “Okay, that’s way more than I needed to know about you.”
Tim took one last thing out of the bag. “And, this took a little hacking and is not the most strictly legal thing ever, but pack your stuff, put one of these stickers on it, and TSA and whatever they’ve got in South Africa’ll leave them alone.”
“You got me diplomatic clearance for my sex toys?” Tony’s holding the stickers, staring at them, and then burst into hysterical laughter.
“Hey, there’s a reason we didn’t honeymoon anywhere we had to fly to. You don’t want them messing in your stuff,” Tim says when Tony stops laughing.
“Yeah, some of our toys, the expensive ones, got stolen when we went on our honeymoon. I mean, who steals sex toys? I’d assume that’s not the sort of thing you want used,” Jimmy adds.
“Ullg.” Tim replies, shuddering.
“Yeah.” Then Jimmy hugs Tony. “Congratulations. Go have fun.”
Tim joins the hug. “So happy for you. Really.”
LinkHe’s dancing with Abby in the garden, under the softly glowing fairy lights when an idea hit. “How about Dana?”
She didn’t look like she was following him with that. “Dana?”
“Kelly Dana…”
Abby thinks about that for a minute, seeming to hear it in her mind, then something else hit. “How about we don’t name our daughter after a woman you fantasize about having sex with?”
Tim laughs at that request. “You asked me for strong, kick-ass, female characters I love. Guess what? I fantasize about all of them.”
“All of them?”
He’s nodding. “Strong, kick-ass women I love, why wouldn’t I?”
She thinks about that and smiles. “Good point.”
“Kelly Abigail? Name her after the strong, kick-ass woman I love the most?” He kissed her as he finished that sentence.
She’s smiling, pleased by the idea, but it’s not something she wants. “No. One Abby’s enough.”
“It means father’s joy, and that’s certainly true. Sounds good, too.”
“Your right on both of them, and I’m still using my veto on it.”
“Fine.”
Breena came over a second later. “They’re getting ready to go, so time to get the bubbles out.”
Abby nods.
“I’ll get them,” Tim says, they’re in the trunk of his car.
LinkIt was well past midnight when they gathered under the cherry trees, blowing bubbles, sending Tony and Ziva on their way.
Chapter 187: A Reception
They returned to DC for the reception. The Ruther’s Estate Country Club had the advantage of being located not too far away from everyone’s homes, having a small, intimate space they could eat in, and beautiful gardens (more blooming cherry trees) set with a dance floor.
Which was when it occurred to Tim that there is a downside of a small wedding. When you’re the best man and maid of honor in a wedding with twenty-four people, it’s pretty hard to just slip away for ten or so minutes.
Everyone can tell at a glance if someone is missing.
So you need a distraction.
LinkUnfortunately Tony and Ziva’s wedding seemed to be really short on distractions. Scrumptious food, swing music, beautiful settings (cherry trees wrapped in white Christmas lights, tea lights flickering in crystal vases, and everything decked in white and pink roses and more cherry blossoms), an elegant white on white cake, all of that was available aplenty. Ten minutes where no one was looking for them, not so much.He’d scouted the terrain two weeks ago when he and Tony showed up to pay the last deposit and make sure the arrangements were all set. The garden was more or less made for trysting. It had about six little alcoves, some even with benches, tucked away from the sight of pretty much everyone else.
He’d found an especially nice one: maybe ten by ten, high stone wall covered in ivy on two sides, hedge on the third and half of the fourth, two weeping willows bracketed a small stone koi pond, and a wrought iron bench sat right next to it. All he had to do was get them there.
Apparently Jimmy was having a similar issue. The girls were dancing with Schmiel and Gibbs, when Jimmy drifted over to him and asked, “How long is your speech?”
Tim thought it through. “Three minutes, maybe a little faster if I talk quickly.”
Jimmy thought about that. “Too fast. What if you talk slow and ad lib some.”
“No! I’m horrible at ad libbing. Talk slow I can maybe get it to five. Why?”
Jimmy smiled dryly. “The same reason you want me to do something to draw attention away from you and Abby.”
Tim laughed at that. “Properly celebrating the wedding?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy’s grinning. “This is so much easier when there’s fifty people around.”
“I’m noticing that.” He thought about something else for a second. “Did you slip off during my wedding?”
“Of course. No one’s looking at anyone other than the bride and groom during the cake part.”
Link“Good point.” Tim eyes the cake. “That’ll probably take a few minutes.”“Schmiel tells me singing is traditionally part of celebrating a Jewish wedding.”
Tim nodded. “You could probably get him to sing something with you right after that.”
“I probably could. You could probably get Abby to come up with a quick, off the cuff toast to go with yours.”
“I probably could.”
They’ve both got wide smiles on their faces, satisfaction at having a plan in place.
So, five months pregnant means the traditional up against the wall quickie is out. (Which was why Tim was scouting the territory ahead of time. Every building on Earth has a chunk of wall in a somewhat-less-than-easily-accessible location, finding a place to sit or kneel is more of a challenge.)
But when the MC called everyone together for the cutting of the cake, he took Abby’s hand, whispered in her ear, “Jimmy bought us ten minutes,” and they edged away from everyone else, deeper into the garden.
And like the last two times, it’s fast, and naughty, and so wrong, and feels so good, and he’s just so incredibly in love with this woman.
He’s sitting across the bench, and she’s in his lap, one leg snug between his hips and the back of the bench, other foot on the ground, and that position’s intentional, he wants to look her in the eye, touch her face, kiss her. Face to face sex is getting rarer as Kelly gets bigger, but this still works for the time being.He’s babbling a little, telling her how much he loves her, how good she feels. But he feels her breath on his thumb as he draws it across her lower lip, and that focuses him, makes him very aware of his own breath, and he remembers a promise he made to her silently at Jimmy and Breena’s wedding, and out loud the day after he almost froze to death, one he modified a little for his wedding vows.
“From this day to my last, I will be here and I will love you.” He kisses her, holding her face in his hands as she stills on him. “This breath to my last and all the ones in between are yours, Abby.”
She’s smiling brilliantly, then kisses him, slipping against him, spreading a flush of pleasure through him. “This life and the next, Tim, I will always love you.” Those words carried him over the edge, and a second later she joined him, shuddering in wet, joyful pulses.
Namaste. They’d been talking about it a few days ago. Abby had gotten a new yoga video. They’d both decided it was time to try some new moves. The video started and ended with that, and he’d been under the impression it was more or less Hindi for hello/goodbye. Abby thought it was a bit deeper than that. Thirty seconds of googling later and half an hour of reading showed they were both right. But, deeper meant something like the (insert good thing here, love, joy, intellect, whatever) in my soul recognizes yours. For the most part for Tim it’s just a word, but right now he feels it.
The love in his soul rejoicing at the love in hers, floating in Tony and Ziva’s, Jimmy and Breena’s, and reveling it. That’s probably as close to metaphysical as he’ll ever get, but that’s fine.
They’re here, together, celebrating the love that makes life rich, vibrant, and glorious.
Link“And how does it feel to know you have gotten all of your ‘kids’ married off?” Ducky asks Jethro as he sits next to him.“Not bad at all, Duck, not bad at all.” He’s got a soft smile on his face as he watches Tony and Ziva dance with each other.
“I’d imagine it is satisfying to have all your dear ones settled.”
“Not all of them.”
Ducky sends Gibbs a questioning look.
Gibbs’ gaze lands on Penny, who’s dancing with Tim and Abby. “Might be nice to be the best man at one of these things.”
Ducky smiles at that, then shook his head a little. “I’m afraid best man duty will be confined to Fornell’s wedding.”
Gibbs’ eyebrows shot up. He had thought Ducky and Penny were getting on very well. Ducky sees the alarm in his expression and says, “Nothing like that Jethro. We are old. Our estates and wills are set, and a marriage would only complicate things. Her semester at the University of Pennsylvania will be ending in May, and after that, Penny will be buying half of my home, and we will vest full rights of survivorship upon each other.”
Gibbs nods. That makes sense to him.
“Beyond that, we have comfortable retirements set up. She does not need my money, nor I hers. However, if you were to feel like hosting an intimate family celebration in our honor come May, I can assure you that would be welcome. If you like, you can even give a speech.” There’s a slightly teasing tone in Ducky’s voice as he says that.
“Just might.”
“Perhaps you’d set the record for the shortest best man’s toast?”
“Maybe.” Gibbs grins.
Ducky watches as Jimmy cuts in, whirling Penny away from Tim and Abby, Breena joining them. He looks away from them to Jethro’s hand, where his wedding band is still on his fourth finger.
“I find it somewhat amusing to think that this late in my life, I’ve found, for all practical purposes a wife, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I find it more amusing to see how intensely happy it makes me, and how stupid I feel for not having sought it out sooner.”
Gibbs nods, looking away from the dance floor to Ducky.
“Jethro, do not wait until you’re my age to go after it. You’re so close to having what you want out of life. Don’t keep waiting until your days are numbered in years and not decades.”
“I’m getting there, Duck.”
“Good.”
One of the upsides of a twentyish person wedding is that it’s pretty easy to get everyone’s attention when it’s time for the Best Man toast. Likewise, Tim knows everyone in this group, it’s family and close friends, hell, the only person here he doesn’t know is Daphine, so it’s not like this is nerve wracking.
Which is good, because he really doesn’t love public speaking.
But it’s time. The DJ gives him the microphone, which seems a little weird, there’s not a lot of people and they’re in a fairly small room, but messing with it buys Jimmy and Breena, who vanished ten seconds ago, another forty seconds.
Tony and Ziva are watching him, Ziva sitting in Tony’s lap, Tony’s arms wrapped around her, her head resting against his shoulder.
Tim smiles at them and begins. “Sometimes you can look at two people and know. They just fit. Where the one zigs the other zags and you can line them up like the edges of the jigsaw puzzle.” He puts the mic down and twines his fingers together, demonstrating the idea. That being exactly as far as he’s willing to go when it comes to ad libbing. If he goes any further off script, this’ll become a rambling disaster.
“And then there’s Tony and Ziva, who did everything they possibly could for as long as humanly possible to deny it.” Tim had been addressing the room, but he turned to face them. “I’d like to take this moment to say something to both of you, something I’ve been waiting almost a decade to say…
“I told you so!”
Tim was very pleased to see that get a laugh. He’d been fairly nervous that line would fall flat or they’d take it wrong, but fortunately, like Abby said it would, it went over well.
“Ten years ago my first book came out. And in that book ‘Tommy’ and ‘Lisa’ took one look at each other and fell madly in lust. Two books later it had grown into love. Meanwhile these two were doing everything in their power to pretend that’s just so not happening. To the point where this one,” he pointed to Ziva, “actually called me up, made me come to her home, and hit me upside the back of the head with the book when they first said, ‘I love you.’ Hard!”
He paused again, letting the laughter run down, and heard Tony say quietly, “Hello, Pot, it’s Kettle, you’re black.”
He smiled at Tony and nodded, acknowledging that technically, he and Abby had taken even longer, then continued, “And the only reason he didn’t do exactly the same thing was because he didn’t read that book until after they had hooked up.”
Tim paused again, let the laughing die down, and finished up, “So, I’ll admit, standing here at your wedding, having spent more than a decade watching you two finally own up to the fact that you fit, perfectly, to feeling, well, a little vindicated and a whole lot smug.” Tim grinned, laid his hand on Tony’s shoulder, and kissed Ziva’s cheek, his voice shifting to something less humorous, more sincere. “And I’m also feeling deeply, profoundly grateful that you two did figure it out, and that I am here to see you celebrate your love and your commitment to spending the rest of your lives together, because if there ever were two people who deserved the joy of finding the one who fits, it’s you two.”
Tim lifted his glass. “To Tony and Ziva and the love and life they’ll share.”
They’d all drunk, and he was getting ready to hand the microphone to Abby to stretch it out a little longer when he saw Jimmy and Breena sneak back in. He raised his eyebrow, and Jimmy nodded. Tim smirked, that was, at most, four and a half minutes. He doesn’t know if he should be jealous of Jimmy or pity him.
LinkHe got Jimmy alone an hour later. “Four and a half minutes?”“Four and a quarter, had to get there and back.”
Which made Tim realize that fifteen seconds of getting there and back meant they were literally right outside the dining room, probably about two feet away from the sliding glass door that separated it from the garden, and in full view of anyone who might have walked outside.
“How do you even do that?”
Jimmy grinned, wide, happy, no filters in place, vast wodges of TMI about to come sloshing out, and Tim quickly held up a hand saying, “In general, don’t need specifics.”
Jimmy’s grin didn’t waver. “Practice.”
Tim laughed. “Time to grab Tony and give him his present?”
Jimmy checked his watch: 10:35. They’d probably want to wrap things up sooner rather than later. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll get him. You get it. Meet at my car?”
“Sounds good.”
Tony was dancing with Ziva, and Tim decided to wait for the song to end before wandering over. “Can I borrow your husband, Mrs. DiNozzo?”
Tony’s looking at him curiously, wondering what’s going on. Ziva’s smiling. “And will you return him promptly?”
“Won’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
Now he’s really got Tony’s attention.
“Then you may have him.”
“Good. Come on.” He’s smiling brightly, really enjoying the wary look on Tony’s face as he follows Tim into the parking lot.
“Okay, why are you dragging me out here?” He sees Jimmy leaning against Tim’s car. “Okay, why are both of you dragging me out here?”
“He’s dragging, I’m lying in wait,” Jimmy says.
Tony notices the bag sitting next to Jimmy on the hood of Tim’s car.
“What is that?”
Tim slaps him on the shoulder, and Jimmy laughs, both of them really enjoying this.
Tim starts: “We know you wanted something a lot sexier for your bachelor party, and well, neither of us may be big on strip clubs and lap dances from strangers, but we’re also firmly in favor of you having a hell of a good time with your wife. So…”
Jimmy hands him the bag. It’s a plain, brown paper, Whole Food’s bag, and it’s heavy. “Honeymoon fun pack.”
“Oh God, what the hell is in there?” Tony’s looking halfway between really disturbed and ready to burst out laughing as he looks into it.
“Fun stuff,” Jimmy says, “Lube—“
“Good stuff, lasts forever, won’t dry out,” Tim adds.
“Condoms—“
“Why do I want condoms? What am I, fifteen?”
Tim rolls his eyes, and Jimmy gives him a really, you need us to spell it out look. Tony stares at them and then seems to get what they’re talking about and a very dirty smile spreads across his face as he says, “Oh.”
“More lube that actually tastes good,” Jimmy’s talking, but Tim’s shaking his head no. Of course, he doesn’t like any of the flavored ones just as a matter of principle, but Breena liked the variety pack they got, and Abby said it was good, too. And, well, yeah, he didn’t mind the ‘homework’ that Abby did on multiple brands to see what the good ones were. And he’s assuming Jimmy likewise approved of Breena’s test of lube flavor. Jimmy’s still talking and Tim think’s he missed a few sentences there, but caught back up with, “…Tim added some satin ropes. Cock ring, since you’ve mentioned the can’t-get-it-up-six-times-a-day thing, that’ll help with that. Fourteen little blue pills, too, don’t take more than one of them a day, okay?”
Tony’s stunned by that. “Wait, what?”
“You forgot Jimmy can write prescriptions, didn’t you?” Tim says, while Jimmy just keeps grinning.
Stunned has turned to horrified as Tony stammers, “I don’t need—“
Jimmy cut in, “Neither of us think you do. Just, assuming you, or more importantly Ziva, doesn’t want to leave your hotel room, you’ve got back up now.” Jimmy’s having way too good a time with this, his smile is so big his face looks in danger of cracking.
Tony’s staring at him curiously. “Is that what you meant by ‘day before yesterday’?”
Jimmy nods.
Tim takes over on the inventory. “Let’s see, three different vibrators, batteries for them, that’s part of why it’s heavy. There’s an adaptor for the one that plugs in.”
Tony’s staring into the bag. “How many batteries are in there?”
“A lot. You won’t run out. Mini Kama Sutra. Mini Joy of Sex. 1001 Sex Positions—“
“You guys know I’ve had sex before? A whole lot of sex.”
“Sure. Hence this stuff, you’re going to have to go deep to find new stuff, and we’ve made sure you’ve got everything you need to whip something new out on Ziva,” Jimmy says.
“LED candles for mood lighting.” Tim picked up a small, nicely-wrapped rectangle. It’s even got a bow on it. “What’s this?”
“No idea. Breena stuck it in there.” Jimmy sorted through a bit and came up with another, larger, also wrapped square. Tim recognized the wrapping paper on this one. “Abby added one, too.”
“Huh. We don’t know what the girls thought you’d need, but it’s in there.”
“What is this?” Tony’s holding something that looks like a collection of small to larger spheres on a flexible plastic rod.
“Anal beads,” Tim says matter-of-factly.
“Tim’s idea.” Jimmy adds, clearly signaling wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole let alone buy them for you.
Tim catches that and says, “What? They’re fun.”
Tony drops them back into the bag. “If I’ve already got condoms for that, why do I want those?”
Tim looks really cocky, and Tony’s wondering exactly how much he’s had to drink. “Who says they’re for her? I mean, I guess you could use them on her, but she doesn’t have a prostate, so…”
Tony closes his eyes and winces a little. “Okay, that’s way more than I needed to know about you.”
Tim took one last thing out of the bag. “And, this took a little hacking and is not the most strictly legal thing ever, but pack your stuff, put one of these stickers on it, and TSA and whatever they’ve got in South Africa’ll leave them alone.”
“You got me diplomatic clearance for my sex toys?” Tony’s holding the stickers, staring at them, and then burst into hysterical laughter.
“Hey, there’s a reason we didn’t honeymoon anywhere we had to fly to. You don’t want them messing in your stuff,” Tim says when Tony stops laughing.
“Yeah, some of our toys, the expensive ones, got stolen when we went on our honeymoon. I mean, who steals sex toys? I’d assume that’s not the sort of thing you want used,” Jimmy adds.
“Ullg.” Tim replies, shuddering.
“Yeah.” Then Jimmy hugs Tony. “Congratulations. Go have fun.”
Tim joins the hug. “So happy for you. Really.”
LinkHe’s dancing with Abby in the garden, under the softly glowing fairy lights when an idea hit. “How about Dana?”She didn’t look like she was following him with that. “Dana?”
“Kelly Dana…”
Abby thinks about that for a minute, seeming to hear it in her mind, then something else hit. “How about we don’t name our daughter after a woman you fantasize about having sex with?”
Tim laughs at that request. “You asked me for strong, kick-ass, female characters I love. Guess what? I fantasize about all of them.”
“All of them?”
He’s nodding. “Strong, kick-ass women I love, why wouldn’t I?”
She thinks about that and smiles. “Good point.”
“Kelly Abigail? Name her after the strong, kick-ass woman I love the most?” He kissed her as he finished that sentence.
She’s smiling, pleased by the idea, but it’s not something she wants. “No. One Abby’s enough.”
“It means father’s joy, and that’s certainly true. Sounds good, too.”
“Your right on both of them, and I’m still using my veto on it.”
“Fine.”
Breena came over a second later. “They’re getting ready to go, so time to get the bubbles out.”
Abby nods.
“I’ll get them,” Tim says, they’re in the trunk of his car.
LinkIt was well past midnight when they gathered under the cherry trees, blowing bubbles, sending Tony and Ziva on their way.
August 21, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 186
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 186: The Yichud
Tradition holds that the bride and groom have a few minutes alone after the ceremony, so as the guests milled about and the photographer got shots of everyone, Tony and Ziva got to actually see each other, alone, for the first time today.
Tony actually feels a little silly. There's this huge grin on his face that won't go away, and he almost wants to babble at her, she's so beautiful and he's feeling so… so something, so much of whatever it is he can't dig individual feelings out of it.
She's smiling at him, brilliant joy on her face.
He stands in front of her, hands on her waist, and for a long second just looks, his eyes trailing from her hair to lashes, lips to throat.
Finally he got it together enough to say, "Hi."
Ziva laughs.She started to giggle at that, peals of laughter, gasping breath, tears streaming down her face and pulled him close, holding him flush against her, her face pressed into his chest, arms tight on his waist. That set off his laughter, he felt it bubbling out of him.
Eventually they calmed down, and she looked up at him, warm, bright smile on her face.
"Hi?"
He kissed her, lips soft and gentle on hers, eyes sparkling with joy. "Hello, Mrs. DiNozzo."
She brushed her fingers through his hair, and then over his lips. "Mrs. DiNozzo. It's hard to believe it is real."
His fingers found hers, stroked over her wedding band. He took her hand in his and kissed her it. "It's real." One more kiss, to her lips again. "I love you, Ziva."
"I love you," she murmured against his lips.
For a long moment they stood there, holding each other, enjoying the closeness and intimacy the outside world rarely gets to see. They could hear the buzz of conversation outside of the tent, but for a little while longer it would just be them, together, in love, and now, married.
Chapter 186: The Yichud
Tradition holds that the bride and groom have a few minutes alone after the ceremony, so as the guests milled about and the photographer got shots of everyone, Tony and Ziva got to actually see each other, alone, for the first time today.
Tony actually feels a little silly. There's this huge grin on his face that won't go away, and he almost wants to babble at her, she's so beautiful and he's feeling so… so something, so much of whatever it is he can't dig individual feelings out of it.
She's smiling at him, brilliant joy on her face.
He stands in front of her, hands on her waist, and for a long second just looks, his eyes trailing from her hair to lashes, lips to throat.
Finally he got it together enough to say, "Hi."
Ziva laughs.She started to giggle at that, peals of laughter, gasping breath, tears streaming down her face and pulled him close, holding him flush against her, her face pressed into his chest, arms tight on his waist. That set off his laughter, he felt it bubbling out of him.Eventually they calmed down, and she looked up at him, warm, bright smile on her face.
"Hi?"
He kissed her, lips soft and gentle on hers, eyes sparkling with joy. "Hello, Mrs. DiNozzo."
She brushed her fingers through his hair, and then over his lips. "Mrs. DiNozzo. It's hard to believe it is real."
His fingers found hers, stroked over her wedding band. He took her hand in his and kissed her it. "It's real." One more kiss, to her lips again. "I love you, Ziva."
"I love you," she murmured against his lips.
For a long moment they stood there, holding each other, enjoying the closeness and intimacy the outside world rarely gets to see. They could hear the buzz of conversation outside of the tent, but for a little while longer it would just be them, together, in love, and now, married.
August 20, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 185: An April Wedding
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 185: An April Wedding
“You’re not up, yet!”
There are many ways that Tim likes to wake up. There are quite a few more that he tolerates. And some he actively loathes.
LinkTony looming over him less than six hours after he got home, jogging his shoulder, looking awfully worried about being late is closer to option C than A or B.
He’s still a little fuzzy as to why Tony stayed at their place last night. He caught something about ritual purity, something else about really celebrating the wedding, Breena said something about bad luck, and there was also something about them having a fully functional guest room that didn’t have DiNozzo Senior in it. But it was pretty late, and he was feeling awfully mellow (scotch, good news, and a wedding to celebrate made sure he was feeling pretty happy), so he hadn’t been paying all that much attention to what was going on, just that Tony was in the backseat of their car as they pulled away.
But now, as he focuses one eye on the clock on his bedside table, and saw 7:05 glowing away on the readout, he’s very temped to flip Tony the bird and tell him to go back to sleep.
What he instead did was sit up, rub his eyes, and say, quietly, (Abby’s still asleep.) “Tony, you aren’t getting married until 5:15. I am assuming you’ve got things you are going to want to do after that happens. I know for a fact you don’t want to be sleepy for them. So, go back to sleep!”
“Too excited.”
Tim sighed, very much wanting to go back to sleep himself. “Tony, go back to sleep. Otherwise you’ll crash right around dinnertime, which you don’t want to do. There’s scotch in the kitchen if you need something to take the edge off. If you can’t settle down, go run it off. But you need to go back to sleep. I don’t want to see you again until you’ve had at least three more hours.” Until I’ve had three more hours.
Tony glared at him, but headed out of his bedroom, and Tim went back to sleep.
“You’re not dressed!”
Tony is. He’s got the suit on, tie perfect, hair in pristine shape. The only thing that’s missing is the boutonniere, and that’s because they’re getting delivered to the wedding site. He’s ready to go, vibrating with purpose and excitement.
Tim feels like he just did this. Though he knows it’s been four hours.
Tim's in a button down and jeans. Jimmy's in jeans and t-shirts. They're both sitting on Tim’s sofa, looking very relaxed.
Jimmy flashes him a this is a job for the best man look. Tim takes a deep breath. “We don’t have to leave for another four hours.”
So, apparently for his wedding, Tim asked Tony something like ninety-seven times in three hours if he had the rings. Fixating on some little detail and going bonkers over it is apparently traditional groom behavior.Tony’s groom-freak-out has been focused on being late.
They’re due at the park at 5:00. The wedding is set to begin at 5:15.
They are going to leave at 3:00 to get there with plenty of time to spare.
It’s 11:00.
Tony checks his coat for his keys for the eleventh time, and Tim gets up and pours him a scotch.
He finds it vaguely amusing that he doesn’t remember this part of his wedding. Obviously at some point on November 1st 2014 he got out of bed, got a shower, brushed his teeth, probably ate some sort of breakfast, definitely had some coffee. At some slightly later point, Tony and Ducky showed up at his house. Eventually Gibbs came over. He knows he talked with Gibbs, wrote Abby a poem, but the rest of that chunk of time between waking up and getting dressed was pretty blank.
Drink“Drink.”
Tony stares at the proffered drink like he’s never seen one before. “I don’t want to.”
“Too bad. If you don’t relax you’re going to snap. So relax.”
“Can’t be late!”
Tim smiles. “Trust me; they aren’t going to start without you.”
“Can’t let her down.”
He puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezes gently, trying to get his friend back in touch with the real world. “We are not going to be late, and you are not going to let Ziva down. The only thing that can happen by going now is us showing up while they’re still setting up, and then Breena will yell at you for seeing Ziva before the ceremony. So, look, get out of your tux, put some jeans and a t-shirt on, and lets go see a movie.”
Jimmy’s just sitting on the sofa nodding. “If you don’t cool down, you’ll pop a blood vessel before the wedding, and that will make you late. As your doctor, I am prescribing you an ounce of forty proof ethyl alcohol. Drink.”
“When did you become my doctor?” Tony asks, and shoots back the liquor.
“Day before yesterday. Now, you need to relax, sooo…” Jimmy’s got his phone out and is googling what movies are showing and when. “Deadpool came out Friday.”
“Ooohhh…” Tim looks pretty excited at that.
Tony rolls his eyes. Tim and Jimmy geeking out seems to have helped focused him on something other than pre-wedding jitters. “You want to take me to a Marvel movie?”
“An NC-17 one that’s only showing in one theatre in the greater DC area,” Jimmy says looking at his phone. “Got a showing at 11:30. We can grab a fast lunch, watch it, and still have plenty of time to get dressed and to the park.”
Two hours later, they’re back in the light, Tony is blinking a little, and saying, “That’s the sort of stuff in those comic books? No wonder you’re constantly reading them.”
Link“Deadpool’s something of a special case, Tony. He’s not exactly Batman or Superman or Wolverine or Professor X,” Tim says.
“By which Tim means this is the only character who constantly breaks the fourth wall, let alone starts the movie by slaughtering everyone involved in making the last movie he was in.”
“Gotta admit that Hugh Jackman-Deadpool fight was awfully cool,” Tim replies. The guys who made this thing really got Deadpool, it was a massive, meta-breaking, self-referential, no-holds-barred fan-fest. He’s fairly sure no one expected to make a cent on it and they did it for the fun of the characters. He does know that he was reacting in a manner that was rather inappropriate for a thirty-seven-year-old man, and that Abby would have probably referred to what he was doing as ‘mad fangirl squeezing.’
“Yeah. So are those movies usually that violent?” Tony asks.
Tim laughs. “Nothing says contemplating binding my love to yours for the rest of my life like 220 corpses in the first ninety seconds of the film.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly just-about-to-get-married material.”
“Got your mind off of it, didn’t it?” Jimmy says, sliding behind the wheel of his car.
“Talking about movies,” Tim says, bucking his seat belt. “Did Gibbs get the book to Ziva?”
“Assuming everything’s going right with the girls, yeah. I gave it to him last night.”
“Good.”
Ziva woke to the sound of knocking at her door. It took her a second to figure out where she was, but then it clicked. She, Gibbs, Ducky and Penny, and Schmiel had stayed at the B&B. Heading all the way back into DC when you didn’t want to go home (because home had the empty bed in it) didn’t make much sense.So they stayed.
And at exactly ten o’clock, way after her usual wake up, Gibbs was doing exactly what he told her he’d do, give her a wake up knock.
“I’m up.”
He poked his head in tentatively. “Can I come in?”
“Certainly.”
“Got some things for you.” Things appeared to be a steaming hot mug of coffee and a small rectangle wrapped in white and silver paper.
He sat on the side of the bed, next to her, handed her the coffee, kissed her cheek, and then laid the package in front of her.
“Wedding present?”
He nodded. “From Tony.”
That got a smile out of Ziva. “What is it?”
The expression on his face said, open it and find out. So she did. It was a book. A journal really, a nice one, hard bound, black leather, white satin ribbon between the pages. She opened to the marked page and saw the page was covered in Tony’s handwriting. She flipped through the pages seeing all of them, every single page of the entire book, was covered in his handwriting.
She returned to the marked page, figuring he had marked it for a reason and read: “Have you never met a woman who inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has found a home. Your life begins with her, and surely without her it must end.” –Don Juan DeMarco.
At first she felt the rush of those words. An almost hot thrill through her body, knowing that he had found them and written them for her, for a second she floated on it, eyes lingering over the curve of his letters, the image of him writing it down, filling her mind’s eye.
Then there was curiosity. “Who is Don Juan DeMarco?”
Gibbs shrugged. “I think it’s a what.”
“A what?” Ziva looked taken aback. Don Juan DeMarco did not sound like the name of a what.
“Tim and Tony were talking about this. Movie quotes. All the ones that make sense to him now you’re in his life.” He’d been there when the two of them got talking about if they had to be quotes from movies Tony had actually seen. He’d found some he really liked that were in movies he would never voluntarily watch, and they were debating over if it was enough that he just really liked them or if he actually had to have a connection to them. They’d gotten to the crime scene before they finished that conversation, so Gibbs never heard how it ended.
Ziva inhaled quickly, felt the sting of tears in her in her eyes, and exhaled slowly. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Gibbs smiled. “Abby and Breena should be here in an hour. Thought you might like some time to read.”
Ziva wiped her eyes, nodding, and flipped to the first page. “I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night…I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” –When Harry Met Sally
Gibbs kissed her one more time and got up to leave her with her present.
As he prepares for his third wedding in two and a half years, Tim’s come to a few conclusion.
A: It is much easier to be the best man than the groom, and easier to be a guest than the best man. This is not to say that he didn’t love his own wedding, but he can feel that he was much more ‘present’ at Jimmy’s wedding, and he can feel that’s going to be true for Tony’s as well. That outside of himself feeling that was with him all through his wedding isn’t here today, and he appreciates it, because he can really be in the moment now and enjoy this.
B: He doesn’t love public speaking. Which is why guest is superior to Best Man. Though he does think his speech is pretty good.
C: Small weddings are better than big ones. They had thirty-eight people at theirs, and part of the whole Groom thing was working the crowd, seeing everyone, talking to them, spending some time with them, and honestly, it was exhausting. Which is, once again, not to say he wasn’t happy to see everyone, but still, it was tiring. If he and Abby ever renew their vows, it’ll be their family and that’s it. Tony and Ziva got the guest list down to twenty-two, and Tim’s thinking that’s a pretty good number of people for a party.
D: He is deeply, profoundly grateful that the people he loves have found their own loves.
In all honestly, McGee and Palmer laughing at him about the whole being nervous about not being on time thing aside (because it’s 4:30, the wedding doesn’t start for 45 minutes, and now they’ve just got to sit there and wait), Tony’s a whole lot less freaked out right now than he expected to be.
Really, he was fairly certain he’d be on the verge of throwing up right now.
But he’s not.
He’s sitting in a fairly small tent with McGee, Palmer, Ducky, and Senior, and feeling, honestly, pretty cool. It’s like now that he’s here he can’t mess it up. He owns it, and it’s time to get going.
He’s ready for this.
He’s playing with Ziva’s ring. As per the tradition it’s a plain, gold band. White gold so it’ll go with her engagement ring. It’s his, because the gift must be something belonging to the groom. On the inside of it, he had inscribed at lo levad/you are not alone. He’d wanted the symbol of the promise in both languages. Wanted a somewhat nebulous idea that started the day she left for Israel to bury her father and was coming to fruition today, to rest against her skin for the rest of her life.
And in a little over half an hour, it will.
“Can I get a minute with Junior?” Senior asked the others. That surprised Tony, yes, they have been getting along better this last year but one on one heart to hearts are still really rare.
Okay, non-existent. Of course, getting married is not--well, for him at least, Senior’s a different story, he thinks his dad was married five times by the time he was his age--an everyday sort of thing.
Link“Dad?” Tony asked after the other guys had filed out.
“She’s a beautiful girl, Junior. She’s strong and capable and doesn’t take any of your bullshit and loves you dearly and I am so happy you found a woman like that. She looks at you the way your mother used to look at me. So take some advice from a man who had the love of his life and screwed it up: you will be vastly better off if you put her first. There are things you’re going to want, things that will bring a quick flush of pleasure or make you happy for a few days, there are things she is going to want that will scare the living hell out of you, and avoiding those things might make you feel good, make you feel safe.
“But that’s happiness. And happiness is shallow and easy. But for you, Ziva’s the path to joy. You stay with her, you put her first, you be the man I know you can be, and you will find joy and peace and a home and family worth having.
“I screwed things up with your mom. I screwed them up with you. And I spent fifty years chasing happy, because it was easy, and avoiding joy because it was hard and scary. Don’t make my mistakes. It looks like you’ve figured that out, but, I wanted to say it to you. Wanted you to hear it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a better man than I am, keep it up, and you’ll build a marriage and life that when you’re my age, you’ll look back at and cherish.”
“I intend to.”
His father is smiling, a genuine, warm and loving smile. “Good. Everyone talks about the vows, the promises you make her, and they matter, matter more than almost anything, but you also need to make some promises to yourself, promises to support your vows to her. Promise yourself to avoid temptation. Promise yourself that you will commit to lasting joy and not transitory pleasure. And promise yourself to remember that she is what makes your life worth living.”
“I will, Dad.”
“Good. Okay, enough seriousness.” Senior checked his watch. “Ten more minutes to go.”
“Almost ready?” Jimmy asks. Having been booted out of the guy’s tent he wandered over to see how Team Bride was doing.
From the looks of it the correct answer was, almost done. Abby and Breena are dressed. Gibbs has everything but his tie done. Ziva’s almost ready to go, probably just finished her makeup and needs to get into her dress and let her hair down.
They look like they’re within five minutes of being ready for show time.
Breena kisses him, twirls a little, flaring the skirt of her dress. “Almost ready. Just a few finishing touches. How are things on your side?”
“All ready to go. Granted, Tony’s been ready to go since 5:15 this morning if what Tim tells me is true.”
“Should have had him here then. Could have gotten the site finished and let us sleep longer,” Schmiel adds.
Link“And what are they doing now?” Ziva asks as she drapes Gibbs’ bow tie around his neck.
“Senior wanted a moment alone with Junior, so off we went. Tim and Ducky are checking in with the Rabbi making sure everything is set on that side.”
“Good.” Abby says.
“I should probably head back to the guys. Let them know things are all set over here.” Jimmy kisses Breena one more time, then heads to Ziva, kissing her cheek, and to Abby for one last smooch. He smiles at Gibbs, wraps his arm around his shoulder and says, “You know, it’s a very fine thing to spend your life surrounded by beautiful women!”
Gibbs grins and gently shoves Jimmy toward the entryway.
Tim would say this for Tony and Ziva’s wedding, it is, without a doubt, the most beautiful and elegant wedding he’s ever seen.
April in DC can mean everything green and pink with cherry blossoms, or it can mean gray and cold.
They got green and soft pink and warm spring breezes.
The chuppah is in a grove of Cherry trees. It’s covered in gauzy white fabric and daisy chains of baby pink, cream, and white roses, ivy, and more cherry blossoms.
Team Bride (The girl part of it at least. Abby told him Gibbs and Schmiel are in black.) is in white. Abby and Breena are in cream, strapless, empire waist gowns, each with a light pink band of beading under the breasts, and both of them with more cherry blossoms in their hair.
Team Groom is in black, broken only by white dress shirts and cream rose boutonnieres.
And the festivities are about to begin.
Traditionally, the grandparents would go first. But there are no grandparents, so the procession is beginning with the Rabbi.
He takes his place under the chuppah and is followed by Tim and Jimmy. Usually the groom would be escorted by his parents, or his father and the father of the bride. But this group is short on parents, too. So Ducky and Senior walk Tony to the chuppah and stop a few steps away. Both of them hug him before going to their seats in the front row, next to their ladies. Tony steps beneath the chuppah on his own, showing that he is entering this marriage of his own free will.
In his left hand, Tim’s holding a glass in a white velvet bag. For his wedding Tony held the rings. For Tony’s he’s holding a glass. The objects change, but the job is the same: be the guy holding the thing that says, ‘we’re married.’
The girls come next. Breena and Abby, and Tim lights up to see his wife, beautiful in white and pink, light breeze fluttering her skirt and the tendrils of her hair. He smiles at her, and she smiles back at him. And he knows they’re here for Tony and Ziva, but like with Jimmy’s wedding he knows that today he’ll make, remake the promises that bind them together.
Thoughts of that are sidetracked by Ziva, escorted by Gibbs and Schmiel.
And it is true that to Tim, Abby is the most beautiful woman on Earth. Heart, mind, soul, and body: she is his definition of beauty.
It is also true that Tim is not blind, and appreciates feminine beauty in its many forms.
LinkAnd Ziva, in a long, flowing spill of… he’s not even sure what color it is, ivory or cream with little silver threads maybe, hair long and loose, decorated with a few cherry blossoms, a translucent veil of shimmering silk skimming over her face and shoulders, is gorgeous.
He hears Tony see her. There’s a fast, sharp, almost whistling intake of breath. And he’s behind Tony so he can’t see the expression on his face, but he sees his shoulders go tight, and his posture straighten up a little further.
The three of them pause a about ten feet before the chuppah. Both Gibbs and Schmiel kiss her cheek, then they too go to sit in the front row, Ziva takes three steps on her own, showing that she too comes to this marriage of her own free will. Then Tony joins her, takes her hand, and leads her into the chuppah, a space designed to represent the home they will share for the rest of their days.
He lifts the veil from her face and the ceremony begins.
Once again the Ketubah is read, and this time wine is drunk to go with it, celebrating the union.
Unlike the Christian tradition the rings are not blessed, and the vows are only one line, but as Tony takes Ziva’s hand in his, and repeats the Rabbi’s words, "Haray ata mekudash lee beh-taba'at zo keh-dat Moshe veh-Israel,*” he’s smiling brilliantly, crying a little, and more deeply, sincerely happy than Tim’s ever seen him.
The gesture repeats, Ziva placing the ring on Tony’s finger, repeating the words, glowing with love and joy, and Tim catches Abby’s eye, and tries to send all of the love, all of the joy, all of the contentment and peace and euphoria that life with her has given him in a look, and maybe he didn’t quite get it all across, because how could anything get all of that across, but he sees the answering love in her look, and the gentle slide of her fingers across her tummy, and he’s not even sure it’s possible to accurately sum that feeling up.
What he does know is that if he doesn’t stop exchanging googoo eyes with Abby he’s going to be late with the glass, and since he’s only got one job during the ceremony, he can’t mess it up. After all, he doesn’t want Tony wishing he’d picked Jimmy for best man. Of course, Jimmy’s probably giving Breena the exact same look and is probably paying even less attention to the proceedings that Tim is, because he doesn’t actually have to do anything other than stand there.
So Tim flashes her a quick smile, starts paying attention to the ceremony again, watching the two of them kiss with both tenderness and passion, and made sure the glass was where it needed to be so Tony could smash it.
“Mazel Tov!”
*Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring according to the laws of Moses and Israel.
Chapter 185: An April Wedding
“You’re not up, yet!”
There are many ways that Tim likes to wake up. There are quite a few more that he tolerates. And some he actively loathes.
LinkTony looming over him less than six hours after he got home, jogging his shoulder, looking awfully worried about being late is closer to option C than A or B.He’s still a little fuzzy as to why Tony stayed at their place last night. He caught something about ritual purity, something else about really celebrating the wedding, Breena said something about bad luck, and there was also something about them having a fully functional guest room that didn’t have DiNozzo Senior in it. But it was pretty late, and he was feeling awfully mellow (scotch, good news, and a wedding to celebrate made sure he was feeling pretty happy), so he hadn’t been paying all that much attention to what was going on, just that Tony was in the backseat of their car as they pulled away.
But now, as he focuses one eye on the clock on his bedside table, and saw 7:05 glowing away on the readout, he’s very temped to flip Tony the bird and tell him to go back to sleep.
What he instead did was sit up, rub his eyes, and say, quietly, (Abby’s still asleep.) “Tony, you aren’t getting married until 5:15. I am assuming you’ve got things you are going to want to do after that happens. I know for a fact you don’t want to be sleepy for them. So, go back to sleep!”
“Too excited.”
Tim sighed, very much wanting to go back to sleep himself. “Tony, go back to sleep. Otherwise you’ll crash right around dinnertime, which you don’t want to do. There’s scotch in the kitchen if you need something to take the edge off. If you can’t settle down, go run it off. But you need to go back to sleep. I don’t want to see you again until you’ve had at least three more hours.” Until I’ve had three more hours.
Tony glared at him, but headed out of his bedroom, and Tim went back to sleep.
“You’re not dressed!”
Tony is. He’s got the suit on, tie perfect, hair in pristine shape. The only thing that’s missing is the boutonniere, and that’s because they’re getting delivered to the wedding site. He’s ready to go, vibrating with purpose and excitement.Tim feels like he just did this. Though he knows it’s been four hours.
Tim's in a button down and jeans. Jimmy's in jeans and t-shirts. They're both sitting on Tim’s sofa, looking very relaxed.
Jimmy flashes him a this is a job for the best man look. Tim takes a deep breath. “We don’t have to leave for another four hours.”
So, apparently for his wedding, Tim asked Tony something like ninety-seven times in three hours if he had the rings. Fixating on some little detail and going bonkers over it is apparently traditional groom behavior.Tony’s groom-freak-out has been focused on being late.
They’re due at the park at 5:00. The wedding is set to begin at 5:15.
They are going to leave at 3:00 to get there with plenty of time to spare.
It’s 11:00.
Tony checks his coat for his keys for the eleventh time, and Tim gets up and pours him a scotch.
He finds it vaguely amusing that he doesn’t remember this part of his wedding. Obviously at some point on November 1st 2014 he got out of bed, got a shower, brushed his teeth, probably ate some sort of breakfast, definitely had some coffee. At some slightly later point, Tony and Ducky showed up at his house. Eventually Gibbs came over. He knows he talked with Gibbs, wrote Abby a poem, but the rest of that chunk of time between waking up and getting dressed was pretty blank.
Drink“Drink.”Tony stares at the proffered drink like he’s never seen one before. “I don’t want to.”
“Too bad. If you don’t relax you’re going to snap. So relax.”
“Can’t be late!”
Tim smiles. “Trust me; they aren’t going to start without you.”
“Can’t let her down.”
He puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezes gently, trying to get his friend back in touch with the real world. “We are not going to be late, and you are not going to let Ziva down. The only thing that can happen by going now is us showing up while they’re still setting up, and then Breena will yell at you for seeing Ziva before the ceremony. So, look, get out of your tux, put some jeans and a t-shirt on, and lets go see a movie.”
Jimmy’s just sitting on the sofa nodding. “If you don’t cool down, you’ll pop a blood vessel before the wedding, and that will make you late. As your doctor, I am prescribing you an ounce of forty proof ethyl alcohol. Drink.”
“When did you become my doctor?” Tony asks, and shoots back the liquor.
“Day before yesterday. Now, you need to relax, sooo…” Jimmy’s got his phone out and is googling what movies are showing and when. “Deadpool came out Friday.”
“Ooohhh…” Tim looks pretty excited at that.
Tony rolls his eyes. Tim and Jimmy geeking out seems to have helped focused him on something other than pre-wedding jitters. “You want to take me to a Marvel movie?”
“An NC-17 one that’s only showing in one theatre in the greater DC area,” Jimmy says looking at his phone. “Got a showing at 11:30. We can grab a fast lunch, watch it, and still have plenty of time to get dressed and to the park.”
Two hours later, they’re back in the light, Tony is blinking a little, and saying, “That’s the sort of stuff in those comic books? No wonder you’re constantly reading them.”
Link“Deadpool’s something of a special case, Tony. He’s not exactly Batman or Superman or Wolverine or Professor X,” Tim says.“By which Tim means this is the only character who constantly breaks the fourth wall, let alone starts the movie by slaughtering everyone involved in making the last movie he was in.”
“Gotta admit that Hugh Jackman-Deadpool fight was awfully cool,” Tim replies. The guys who made this thing really got Deadpool, it was a massive, meta-breaking, self-referential, no-holds-barred fan-fest. He’s fairly sure no one expected to make a cent on it and they did it for the fun of the characters. He does know that he was reacting in a manner that was rather inappropriate for a thirty-seven-year-old man, and that Abby would have probably referred to what he was doing as ‘mad fangirl squeezing.’
“Yeah. So are those movies usually that violent?” Tony asks.
Tim laughs. “Nothing says contemplating binding my love to yours for the rest of my life like 220 corpses in the first ninety seconds of the film.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly just-about-to-get-married material.”
“Got your mind off of it, didn’t it?” Jimmy says, sliding behind the wheel of his car.
“Talking about movies,” Tim says, bucking his seat belt. “Did Gibbs get the book to Ziva?”
“Assuming everything’s going right with the girls, yeah. I gave it to him last night.”
“Good.”
Ziva woke to the sound of knocking at her door. It took her a second to figure out where she was, but then it clicked. She, Gibbs, Ducky and Penny, and Schmiel had stayed at the B&B. Heading all the way back into DC when you didn’t want to go home (because home had the empty bed in it) didn’t make much sense.So they stayed.
And at exactly ten o’clock, way after her usual wake up, Gibbs was doing exactly what he told her he’d do, give her a wake up knock.
“I’m up.”
He poked his head in tentatively. “Can I come in?”
“Certainly.”
“Got some things for you.” Things appeared to be a steaming hot mug of coffee and a small rectangle wrapped in white and silver paper.
He sat on the side of the bed, next to her, handed her the coffee, kissed her cheek, and then laid the package in front of her.
“Wedding present?”
He nodded. “From Tony.”
That got a smile out of Ziva. “What is it?”
The expression on his face said, open it and find out. So she did. It was a book. A journal really, a nice one, hard bound, black leather, white satin ribbon between the pages. She opened to the marked page and saw the page was covered in Tony’s handwriting. She flipped through the pages seeing all of them, every single page of the entire book, was covered in his handwriting.
She returned to the marked page, figuring he had marked it for a reason and read: “Have you never met a woman who inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has found a home. Your life begins with her, and surely without her it must end.” –Don Juan DeMarco.
At first she felt the rush of those words. An almost hot thrill through her body, knowing that he had found them and written them for her, for a second she floated on it, eyes lingering over the curve of his letters, the image of him writing it down, filling her mind’s eye.
Then there was curiosity. “Who is Don Juan DeMarco?”
Gibbs shrugged. “I think it’s a what.”
“A what?” Ziva looked taken aback. Don Juan DeMarco did not sound like the name of a what.
“Tim and Tony were talking about this. Movie quotes. All the ones that make sense to him now you’re in his life.” He’d been there when the two of them got talking about if they had to be quotes from movies Tony had actually seen. He’d found some he really liked that were in movies he would never voluntarily watch, and they were debating over if it was enough that he just really liked them or if he actually had to have a connection to them. They’d gotten to the crime scene before they finished that conversation, so Gibbs never heard how it ended.
Ziva inhaled quickly, felt the sting of tears in her in her eyes, and exhaled slowly. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Gibbs smiled. “Abby and Breena should be here in an hour. Thought you might like some time to read.”
Ziva wiped her eyes, nodding, and flipped to the first page. “I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night…I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” –When Harry Met Sally
Gibbs kissed her one more time and got up to leave her with her present.
As he prepares for his third wedding in two and a half years, Tim’s come to a few conclusion.
A: It is much easier to be the best man than the groom, and easier to be a guest than the best man. This is not to say that he didn’t love his own wedding, but he can feel that he was much more ‘present’ at Jimmy’s wedding, and he can feel that’s going to be true for Tony’s as well. That outside of himself feeling that was with him all through his wedding isn’t here today, and he appreciates it, because he can really be in the moment now and enjoy this.
B: He doesn’t love public speaking. Which is why guest is superior to Best Man. Though he does think his speech is pretty good.
C: Small weddings are better than big ones. They had thirty-eight people at theirs, and part of the whole Groom thing was working the crowd, seeing everyone, talking to them, spending some time with them, and honestly, it was exhausting. Which is, once again, not to say he wasn’t happy to see everyone, but still, it was tiring. If he and Abby ever renew their vows, it’ll be their family and that’s it. Tony and Ziva got the guest list down to twenty-two, and Tim’s thinking that’s a pretty good number of people for a party.
D: He is deeply, profoundly grateful that the people he loves have found their own loves.
In all honestly, McGee and Palmer laughing at him about the whole being nervous about not being on time thing aside (because it’s 4:30, the wedding doesn’t start for 45 minutes, and now they’ve just got to sit there and wait), Tony’s a whole lot less freaked out right now than he expected to be.
Really, he was fairly certain he’d be on the verge of throwing up right now.
But he’s not.
He’s sitting in a fairly small tent with McGee, Palmer, Ducky, and Senior, and feeling, honestly, pretty cool. It’s like now that he’s here he can’t mess it up. He owns it, and it’s time to get going.
He’s ready for this.
He’s playing with Ziva’s ring. As per the tradition it’s a plain, gold band. White gold so it’ll go with her engagement ring. It’s his, because the gift must be something belonging to the groom. On the inside of it, he had inscribed at lo levad/you are not alone. He’d wanted the symbol of the promise in both languages. Wanted a somewhat nebulous idea that started the day she left for Israel to bury her father and was coming to fruition today, to rest against her skin for the rest of her life.
And in a little over half an hour, it will.
“Can I get a minute with Junior?” Senior asked the others. That surprised Tony, yes, they have been getting along better this last year but one on one heart to hearts are still really rare.
Okay, non-existent. Of course, getting married is not--well, for him at least, Senior’s a different story, he thinks his dad was married five times by the time he was his age--an everyday sort of thing.
Link“Dad?” Tony asked after the other guys had filed out.“She’s a beautiful girl, Junior. She’s strong and capable and doesn’t take any of your bullshit and loves you dearly and I am so happy you found a woman like that. She looks at you the way your mother used to look at me. So take some advice from a man who had the love of his life and screwed it up: you will be vastly better off if you put her first. There are things you’re going to want, things that will bring a quick flush of pleasure or make you happy for a few days, there are things she is going to want that will scare the living hell out of you, and avoiding those things might make you feel good, make you feel safe.
“But that’s happiness. And happiness is shallow and easy. But for you, Ziva’s the path to joy. You stay with her, you put her first, you be the man I know you can be, and you will find joy and peace and a home and family worth having.
“I screwed things up with your mom. I screwed them up with you. And I spent fifty years chasing happy, because it was easy, and avoiding joy because it was hard and scary. Don’t make my mistakes. It looks like you’ve figured that out, but, I wanted to say it to you. Wanted you to hear it.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a better man than I am, keep it up, and you’ll build a marriage and life that when you’re my age, you’ll look back at and cherish.”
“I intend to.”
His father is smiling, a genuine, warm and loving smile. “Good. Everyone talks about the vows, the promises you make her, and they matter, matter more than almost anything, but you also need to make some promises to yourself, promises to support your vows to her. Promise yourself to avoid temptation. Promise yourself that you will commit to lasting joy and not transitory pleasure. And promise yourself to remember that she is what makes your life worth living.”
“I will, Dad.”
“Good. Okay, enough seriousness.” Senior checked his watch. “Ten more minutes to go.”
“Almost ready?” Jimmy asks. Having been booted out of the guy’s tent he wandered over to see how Team Bride was doing.
From the looks of it the correct answer was, almost done. Abby and Breena are dressed. Gibbs has everything but his tie done. Ziva’s almost ready to go, probably just finished her makeup and needs to get into her dress and let her hair down.
They look like they’re within five minutes of being ready for show time.
Breena kisses him, twirls a little, flaring the skirt of her dress. “Almost ready. Just a few finishing touches. How are things on your side?”
“All ready to go. Granted, Tony’s been ready to go since 5:15 this morning if what Tim tells me is true.”
“Should have had him here then. Could have gotten the site finished and let us sleep longer,” Schmiel adds.
Link“And what are they doing now?” Ziva asks as she drapes Gibbs’ bow tie around his neck.“Senior wanted a moment alone with Junior, so off we went. Tim and Ducky are checking in with the Rabbi making sure everything is set on that side.”
“Good.” Abby says.
“I should probably head back to the guys. Let them know things are all set over here.” Jimmy kisses Breena one more time, then heads to Ziva, kissing her cheek, and to Abby for one last smooch. He smiles at Gibbs, wraps his arm around his shoulder and says, “You know, it’s a very fine thing to spend your life surrounded by beautiful women!”
Gibbs grins and gently shoves Jimmy toward the entryway.
Tim would say this for Tony and Ziva’s wedding, it is, without a doubt, the most beautiful and elegant wedding he’s ever seen.
April in DC can mean everything green and pink with cherry blossoms, or it can mean gray and cold.
They got green and soft pink and warm spring breezes.
The chuppah is in a grove of Cherry trees. It’s covered in gauzy white fabric and daisy chains of baby pink, cream, and white roses, ivy, and more cherry blossoms.
Team Bride (The girl part of it at least. Abby told him Gibbs and Schmiel are in black.) is in white. Abby and Breena are in cream, strapless, empire waist gowns, each with a light pink band of beading under the breasts, and both of them with more cherry blossoms in their hair.
Team Groom is in black, broken only by white dress shirts and cream rose boutonnieres.
And the festivities are about to begin.
Traditionally, the grandparents would go first. But there are no grandparents, so the procession is beginning with the Rabbi.
He takes his place under the chuppah and is followed by Tim and Jimmy. Usually the groom would be escorted by his parents, or his father and the father of the bride. But this group is short on parents, too. So Ducky and Senior walk Tony to the chuppah and stop a few steps away. Both of them hug him before going to their seats in the front row, next to their ladies. Tony steps beneath the chuppah on his own, showing that he is entering this marriage of his own free will.
In his left hand, Tim’s holding a glass in a white velvet bag. For his wedding Tony held the rings. For Tony’s he’s holding a glass. The objects change, but the job is the same: be the guy holding the thing that says, ‘we’re married.’
The girls come next. Breena and Abby, and Tim lights up to see his wife, beautiful in white and pink, light breeze fluttering her skirt and the tendrils of her hair. He smiles at her, and she smiles back at him. And he knows they’re here for Tony and Ziva, but like with Jimmy’s wedding he knows that today he’ll make, remake the promises that bind them together.
Thoughts of that are sidetracked by Ziva, escorted by Gibbs and Schmiel.
And it is true that to Tim, Abby is the most beautiful woman on Earth. Heart, mind, soul, and body: she is his definition of beauty.
It is also true that Tim is not blind, and appreciates feminine beauty in its many forms.
LinkAnd Ziva, in a long, flowing spill of… he’s not even sure what color it is, ivory or cream with little silver threads maybe, hair long and loose, decorated with a few cherry blossoms, a translucent veil of shimmering silk skimming over her face and shoulders, is gorgeous. He hears Tony see her. There’s a fast, sharp, almost whistling intake of breath. And he’s behind Tony so he can’t see the expression on his face, but he sees his shoulders go tight, and his posture straighten up a little further.
The three of them pause a about ten feet before the chuppah. Both Gibbs and Schmiel kiss her cheek, then they too go to sit in the front row, Ziva takes three steps on her own, showing that she too comes to this marriage of her own free will. Then Tony joins her, takes her hand, and leads her into the chuppah, a space designed to represent the home they will share for the rest of their days.
He lifts the veil from her face and the ceremony begins.
Once again the Ketubah is read, and this time wine is drunk to go with it, celebrating the union.
Unlike the Christian tradition the rings are not blessed, and the vows are only one line, but as Tony takes Ziva’s hand in his, and repeats the Rabbi’s words, "Haray ata mekudash lee beh-taba'at zo keh-dat Moshe veh-Israel,*” he’s smiling brilliantly, crying a little, and more deeply, sincerely happy than Tim’s ever seen him.
The gesture repeats, Ziva placing the ring on Tony’s finger, repeating the words, glowing with love and joy, and Tim catches Abby’s eye, and tries to send all of the love, all of the joy, all of the contentment and peace and euphoria that life with her has given him in a look, and maybe he didn’t quite get it all across, because how could anything get all of that across, but he sees the answering love in her look, and the gentle slide of her fingers across her tummy, and he’s not even sure it’s possible to accurately sum that feeling up.
What he does know is that if he doesn’t stop exchanging googoo eyes with Abby he’s going to be late with the glass, and since he’s only got one job during the ceremony, he can’t mess it up. After all, he doesn’t want Tony wishing he’d picked Jimmy for best man. Of course, Jimmy’s probably giving Breena the exact same look and is probably paying even less attention to the proceedings that Tim is, because he doesn’t actually have to do anything other than stand there.
So Tim flashes her a quick smile, starts paying attention to the ceremony again, watching the two of them kiss with both tenderness and passion, and made sure the glass was where it needed to be so Tony could smash it.
“Mazel Tov!”
*Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring according to the laws of Moses and Israel.
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 184
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 184: Eat, Dance, Sing
Goofing off A party staring Schmiel, DiNozzo Sr., and Ducky is a thing to behold. It's like the world's great story tellers all got together one night to see who could spin the longest, most intricate yarn.
And then they started playing off each other.
Tim watches the three of them and hopes that when he, Jimmy, and Tony are all older than dirt, that they'll be half as entertaining to the people around them, and a quarter as vital.
Middle of nowhere park was located not too far away from a fairly decent bed and breakfast, one that was willing to rent out their entire downstairs (and several rooms) for the party. (Off night, off season, it wasn't too hard to convince them to do a kosher dinner.)
So the twelve of them are around one large table, dinner served family style, but there's an open bar, and cleared space near them. (Tim's thinking the table they are at is probably a few tables together, and the other tables have been removed.) The main course is over, and they're lingering over stories, coffee, and dessert when Schmiel says, "Enough talking, it is time to dance," he stood up and held out his hand to Ziva.
That's greeted by silence, and Ziva staring at his hand. Sure, there's room, but… no music.
Finally Jimmy says, "Breena and I are in, but… music?"
Gibbs with the cameraSchmiel looks amused and irked. "You mean to tell me, with all of your fancy phones, none of you has something that will play music?"
Which caused all eyes to slide over to Tim, the tech guru. "Give me five minutes."
It took three. The proprietor did have a port that would work with his phone, and some speakers she was willing to donate to the party.
Tim figured that with this group, some of his peppier jazz would be a good choice, and set it to playing.
And with that, the party got really started.
He found Jimmy waiting for him after he got out of the restroom an hour later. Jimmy's grinning at him, and for a second he's wondering if he's got toilet paper on his shoe or something. He checked. Nope. Next thought that sprang to mind was whether or not that grin was about his possible long weekend shaving plans, but he doesn't think that's it.
Finally he said, "Okay, you're freaking me out just standing there and grinning. What's up?"
The grin got wider. "We're not telling anyone else besides Ducky, not for a while at least, but, we're pregnant again."
A huge smile spread across Tim's face as he pulled Jimmy into a hug. When he stepped back he said, "I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, we are, too. Scared…"
Tim nodded, seeing that there's not just happiness on Jimmy's face. Mostly joy, a little tipsy, and a tinge of fear, but mostly joy.
"But really happy."
"How far along?"
"Nine days? Just found out this morning."
"Breena telling Abby?"
"Probably already has."
"No wonder you've been in such a good mood today." Yeah, they're prepping for a wedding, and that tends to result in happy people, but Jimmy's been in a really good mood.
"Yeah." Jimmy's grinning, and Tim hugged him again, just so happy to see a smile on his face that lights up his eyes again.
"When do you think you're telling everyone?"
"The earliest they can do the nuchal fold test is week ten day one, so, assuming everything is good, week ten, day one and a half. If not… It'll just be you guys and Ducky."
"Okay. Penny know?"
"She was there when we told him, so yes. Feels a little strange to get used to the idea of Ducky as half of a couple."
"You think that's weird, with the way this is going, he might literally be my grandfather at some point."
"Step-grandfather."
"Close enough."
"'Course these last few years he's pretty much been this hybrid grandfather/big brother/boss for me, so I'm kind of used to that."
Tim was nodding absently while he did a little math in his head. "New Year's baby?"
That got another grin. "December 24th actually."
"You and holiday babies."
"Says the guy whose daughter is due on the Fourth of July."
"Once is a fluke, two in a row, that's a pattern."
"Sure." Jimmy wrapped his arm around Tim's shoulders. "Come on, let's get back to the girls."
"Very good plan!"
Tim was dancing with Penny when she said to him, "So, your mom called me."
"Ah." He's been avoiding her. Not that it's too hard what with her living 2000 miles away. But usually he calls once a week and emails a few times, but since he had the flu he's been quiet.
"Seems she hasn't heard from you in a bit more than a month."
"That's likely true. I have sent a few I'm-busy-will-write-more-later emails."
"Yeah, she said that. She's worried. Afraid that becoming a dad is scaring you and you're drawing in on yourself." That's plausible. Given what she knows, that's really plausible, and a very in character way for him to react to something like that. It's just not true.
"What did you say to her?"
"That you're busy. Working hard, getting everything all set for your career change. She hadn't heard about that, so I filled her in on the impending switch to Cybercrime. I told her you were also helping to get a friend married, and no you aren't having a soon-to-be-dad panic attack."
"Thanks."
Penny has a searching look on her face. "You aren't, are you?"
His answering look says Come on, you know me better than that. "The only dad issues I'm having these days don't relate to my ability to be a dad for Kelly. Not directly at least."
"Good. You're going to have to talk to her sooner or later."
"I know. Did you say anything to her about…"
Penny shook her head. "No. There are things I want to say to her, but you get first dibs."
"Thank you."
"You'll let me know when you talk to her?"
"Yeah. I will. Just, not right now. As Abby pointed out to me, I may be able to cry silently, but not invisibly, so my she-didn't-know rationalization fell apart, and I don't know what to do with that, and I don't want to talk to her until I've got a plan."
Penny smiles up at him. That's a very, very Tim way of handling something.
The song ended and he led her to the front porch, wanting to talk a little longer without everyone else right nearby. There was a comfortable porch swing, and it was unseasonably warm for early April, so it was quite pleasant out.
"Do you know why they got divorced? I mean, in specific, what the trigger was?" He sitting facing the porch, staring out at trees, a garden, and a gently sloping lawn.
Penny takes the other side of the swing, and sits facing him. "No. Just that your mom had had enough of it and was done. Might be that your grandfather finally got sick enough he wasn't attached to the rest of the world. It wasn't a secret he didn't think your dad was a good match for your mom, and he did all he could to convince her not to marry him, but he also believed that once you got married you stayed married, no matter what. He was pretty well gone when she filed the papers, right?"
Tim thought about that, rubbing his forehead. He didn't like thinking about his grandfather's last two years. The only good thing, if it could be called that, was that his Alzheimer's hit hard and fast. They didn't have decades of him slowly fading away. "Yeah. The Alzheimer's had gotten bad enough he didn't know who anyone was any more."
"If I had to guess, that's why it happened then. Even your grandmother and I were telling her it was time to get out, had been for years. No one was happy."
"Were they fighting, the way my Dad and I were?"
"If so, I didn't know about it. You lived with them, what do you remember?"
"Not that. But I was also a kid and pretty self-centered back then. I know she wasn't happy. But my sense was it had a lot more to do with being abandoned, left alone with two kids six to ten months a year."
"That was my sense, too. Your mom wanted a husband, not just a ring and a name." Tim nodded at that.
Abby poked her head out the door at them. "Can I join in?"
"Sure," Tim answered. She scooted into the space between Tim and Penny on the swing, her back resting against his side, his arm draping over her shoulders.
He kissed her neck. "Talking about my mom."
Abby nodded, expecting that was up when they wandered off.
"I was thinking about the Ketubah, a little, too. Liking that it's spelled out that your job is to stay at home with your wife."
"Sometimes you have to leave, Tim." Penny said.
Tim often forgets that for forty years Penny was a Navy wife, forgets that she built weapons, forgets that it was the fall out of that that made her the pacifist he's known his whole life. "I know. Sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes you have to kill. I'm a cop. I get it. You put your life between your home and danger because it keeps them safe. I really do get it. But I don't think he cared one way or another what Mom thought about it, and I'm certain he didn't care what I thought about it." He shook his head. "That's grim." He squeezed Abby's hand. "Did Breena get ahold of you?"
"Yes!" The grin on her face is bright and happy.
"So, what are your psychic vibes saying, boy or girl?"
She thought about it, holding his hand, her fingers playing along his. "Girl, but I'm not getting any strong feeling on it. How about you, Penny?"
"No psychic vibes for me, but I'm leaning girl, as well. Tim?"
"Little boy. He'll be named after his grandpa."
"Thomas? Ed?" Penny asks, which blindsides Tim. Off the top of his head, he doesn't know the name of Jimmy's dad. The fact that Penny pays enough attention to Ducky's pet people to know that sort of thing pleases him greatly.
"Donald."
All of the photos have been stolen from here
Chapter 184: Eat, Dance, Sing
Goofing off A party staring Schmiel, DiNozzo Sr., and Ducky is a thing to behold. It's like the world's great story tellers all got together one night to see who could spin the longest, most intricate yarn.And then they started playing off each other.
Tim watches the three of them and hopes that when he, Jimmy, and Tony are all older than dirt, that they'll be half as entertaining to the people around them, and a quarter as vital.
Middle of nowhere park was located not too far away from a fairly decent bed and breakfast, one that was willing to rent out their entire downstairs (and several rooms) for the party. (Off night, off season, it wasn't too hard to convince them to do a kosher dinner.)
So the twelve of them are around one large table, dinner served family style, but there's an open bar, and cleared space near them. (Tim's thinking the table they are at is probably a few tables together, and the other tables have been removed.) The main course is over, and they're lingering over stories, coffee, and dessert when Schmiel says, "Enough talking, it is time to dance," he stood up and held out his hand to Ziva.
That's greeted by silence, and Ziva staring at his hand. Sure, there's room, but… no music.
Finally Jimmy says, "Breena and I are in, but… music?"
Gibbs with the cameraSchmiel looks amused and irked. "You mean to tell me, with all of your fancy phones, none of you has something that will play music?"Which caused all eyes to slide over to Tim, the tech guru. "Give me five minutes."
It took three. The proprietor did have a port that would work with his phone, and some speakers she was willing to donate to the party.
Tim figured that with this group, some of his peppier jazz would be a good choice, and set it to playing.
And with that, the party got really started.
He found Jimmy waiting for him after he got out of the restroom an hour later. Jimmy's grinning at him, and for a second he's wondering if he's got toilet paper on his shoe or something. He checked. Nope. Next thought that sprang to mind was whether or not that grin was about his possible long weekend shaving plans, but he doesn't think that's it.
Finally he said, "Okay, you're freaking me out just standing there and grinning. What's up?"
The grin got wider. "We're not telling anyone else besides Ducky, not for a while at least, but, we're pregnant again."A huge smile spread across Tim's face as he pulled Jimmy into a hug. When he stepped back he said, "I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah, we are, too. Scared…"
Tim nodded, seeing that there's not just happiness on Jimmy's face. Mostly joy, a little tipsy, and a tinge of fear, but mostly joy.
"But really happy."
"How far along?"
"Nine days? Just found out this morning."
"Breena telling Abby?"
"Probably already has."
"No wonder you've been in such a good mood today." Yeah, they're prepping for a wedding, and that tends to result in happy people, but Jimmy's been in a really good mood."Yeah." Jimmy's grinning, and Tim hugged him again, just so happy to see a smile on his face that lights up his eyes again.
"When do you think you're telling everyone?"
"The earliest they can do the nuchal fold test is week ten day one, so, assuming everything is good, week ten, day one and a half. If not… It'll just be you guys and Ducky."
"Okay. Penny know?"
"She was there when we told him, so yes. Feels a little strange to get used to the idea of Ducky as half of a couple."
"You think that's weird, with the way this is going, he might literally be my grandfather at some point."
"Step-grandfather."
"Close enough."
"'Course these last few years he's pretty much been this hybrid grandfather/big brother/boss for me, so I'm kind of used to that."
Tim was nodding absently while he did a little math in his head. "New Year's baby?"
That got another grin. "December 24th actually."
"You and holiday babies."
"Says the guy whose daughter is due on the Fourth of July."
"Once is a fluke, two in a row, that's a pattern."
"Sure." Jimmy wrapped his arm around Tim's shoulders. "Come on, let's get back to the girls."
"Very good plan!"
Tim was dancing with Penny when she said to him, "So, your mom called me."
"Ah." He's been avoiding her. Not that it's too hard what with her living 2000 miles away. But usually he calls once a week and emails a few times, but since he had the flu he's been quiet.
"Seems she hasn't heard from you in a bit more than a month."
"That's likely true. I have sent a few I'm-busy-will-write-more-later emails."
"Yeah, she said that. She's worried. Afraid that becoming a dad is scaring you and you're drawing in on yourself." That's plausible. Given what she knows, that's really plausible, and a very in character way for him to react to something like that. It's just not true.
"What did you say to her?"
"That you're busy. Working hard, getting everything all set for your career change. She hadn't heard about that, so I filled her in on the impending switch to Cybercrime. I told her you were also helping to get a friend married, and no you aren't having a soon-to-be-dad panic attack."
"Thanks."
Penny has a searching look on her face. "You aren't, are you?"
His answering look says Come on, you know me better than that. "The only dad issues I'm having these days don't relate to my ability to be a dad for Kelly. Not directly at least."
"Good. You're going to have to talk to her sooner or later."
"I know. Did you say anything to her about…"
Penny shook her head. "No. There are things I want to say to her, but you get first dibs."
"Thank you."
"You'll let me know when you talk to her?"
"Yeah. I will. Just, not right now. As Abby pointed out to me, I may be able to cry silently, but not invisibly, so my she-didn't-know rationalization fell apart, and I don't know what to do with that, and I don't want to talk to her until I've got a plan."
Penny smiles up at him. That's a very, very Tim way of handling something.
The song ended and he led her to the front porch, wanting to talk a little longer without everyone else right nearby. There was a comfortable porch swing, and it was unseasonably warm for early April, so it was quite pleasant out.
"Do you know why they got divorced? I mean, in specific, what the trigger was?" He sitting facing the porch, staring out at trees, a garden, and a gently sloping lawn.
Penny takes the other side of the swing, and sits facing him. "No. Just that your mom had had enough of it and was done. Might be that your grandfather finally got sick enough he wasn't attached to the rest of the world. It wasn't a secret he didn't think your dad was a good match for your mom, and he did all he could to convince her not to marry him, but he also believed that once you got married you stayed married, no matter what. He was pretty well gone when she filed the papers, right?"
Tim thought about that, rubbing his forehead. He didn't like thinking about his grandfather's last two years. The only good thing, if it could be called that, was that his Alzheimer's hit hard and fast. They didn't have decades of him slowly fading away. "Yeah. The Alzheimer's had gotten bad enough he didn't know who anyone was any more."
"If I had to guess, that's why it happened then. Even your grandmother and I were telling her it was time to get out, had been for years. No one was happy."
"Were they fighting, the way my Dad and I were?"
"If so, I didn't know about it. You lived with them, what do you remember?"
"Not that. But I was also a kid and pretty self-centered back then. I know she wasn't happy. But my sense was it had a lot more to do with being abandoned, left alone with two kids six to ten months a year."
"That was my sense, too. Your mom wanted a husband, not just a ring and a name." Tim nodded at that.
Abby poked her head out the door at them. "Can I join in?"
"Sure," Tim answered. She scooted into the space between Tim and Penny on the swing, her back resting against his side, his arm draping over her shoulders.
He kissed her neck. "Talking about my mom."
Abby nodded, expecting that was up when they wandered off.
"I was thinking about the Ketubah, a little, too. Liking that it's spelled out that your job is to stay at home with your wife."
"Sometimes you have to leave, Tim." Penny said.
Tim often forgets that for forty years Penny was a Navy wife, forgets that she built weapons, forgets that it was the fall out of that that made her the pacifist he's known his whole life. "I know. Sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes you have to kill. I'm a cop. I get it. You put your life between your home and danger because it keeps them safe. I really do get it. But I don't think he cared one way or another what Mom thought about it, and I'm certain he didn't care what I thought about it." He shook his head. "That's grim." He squeezed Abby's hand. "Did Breena get ahold of you?"
"Yes!" The grin on her face is bright and happy.
"So, what are your psychic vibes saying, boy or girl?"
She thought about it, holding his hand, her fingers playing along his. "Girl, but I'm not getting any strong feeling on it. How about you, Penny?"
"No psychic vibes for me, but I'm leaning girl, as well. Tim?"
"Little boy. He'll be named after his grandpa."
"Thomas? Ed?" Penny asks, which blindsides Tim. Off the top of his head, he doesn't know the name of Jimmy's dad. The fact that Penny pays enough attention to Ducky's pet people to know that sort of thing pleases him greatly.
"Donald."
All of the photos have been stolen from here
August 19, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 183
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 183: Cherry Blossoms and Tuxes
For the second time in six months, the extended Gibbs Clan gathered for a wedding.
But Jewish weddings don't exactly work the same way Christian ones do.
They're a two-step process.
And while in a Christian or secular American wedding the night before is the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, usually followed by Team Bride and Groom heading off for separate merrymaking, a Jewish wedding begins the night before with the signing of the Ketubah, the official marriage contract.
So, in order to give this ceremony proper honors, they're at the park Gibbs found for them, a little, out of the way place, probably popular a hundred years ago, but mostly forgotten now. But it's in okay (if somewhat wild) shape, it's not filled with other people, and the clearing they're in is ringed with blooming cherry trees, setting up for tomorrow.
The most important part, the chuppah, is up, and mostly decorated. (The girls are doing the flowers with the florist tomorrow.) But for now it's burnished rods of oak, finished to look like all the warmth of the sun has solidified into wood, woven together into four pillars. Gibbs and Breena attached the top supports, while Jimmy, Tony, and Tim dug the holes in the ground to keep the posts steady. Ziva and Abby straightened out the yards of gauzy cream and snow-colored fabric, and then draped it over the supports, weaving it through the posts.
Gibbs and Jimmy have lawn mowers so they're in charge of getting a path to the chuppah, and enough of the space in front of it to hold eighteen people trimmed down so that guests won't have to worry about being eaten alive by the grass and weeds.
Abby and Tony are in charge of posting signs. This place is pretty far off the beaten path so DiNozzo-David Wedding signs are going up. It's not that the GPS can't find it. Punch where you're going into your GPS while you're still in DC and it's got no trouble at all locating the place. It's that for most of them their GPS stopped working about three miles from the park, leaving them driving about on smaller and smaller roads in the middle of pretty rural Virginia, so old fashioned signs need to be set up.
Tim's wiring the lights for tonight. Technically, it's the Sabbath and they shouldn't be working at all, but setting up now works better for everyone's schedule, so they're here. The Rabbi on the other hand, won't be coming until the Sabbath is over, after sunset. So Tim's making sure that when he gets here, they'll have enough light to actually see the Ketubah, read it, and sign it.
Hanging out with Sr. and Ducky
LinkOf course, off the beaten path means there's no electricity here, but he's hoping that the car battery he's got rigged to the lighting set up will do the job.
Ziva and Breena are setting up the chairs, putting them in place and making sure the satin covers are secure. Sure, they're probably asking for a freak thunder storm to show up and wreck everything by setting them up today instead of tomorrow morning, but they want to get as much done ahead of time as possible.
It's a small enough group they aren't bothering with a bride's side or groom's side. So they're set in three rows of six.
Two tents, one for team bride and one for team groom for the pre-wedding waiting about finish off the site.It takes about two hours, but the site is (except for the flowers) all set and ready to go.
The downside of beautiful little park out in the middle of nowhere is that… It's in the middle of nowhere. So they got everything done, and then drove an hour back to DC to get ready for that evening.
The signing of the Ketubah is a big deal, and being invited to witness it is an honor reserved for close family and friends. So, you can't just wear the same grungy jeans, work boots, and button down you had on for setting up the chuppah.
And that downtime in the middle of the day gives Tim a little spot of time to run that last errand he'd been putting off for a week, namely grabbing his tux.
He got home with it while Abby was still damp from getting out of the shower. She's sitting on the bed, toweling off her hair as Tim walks in with the suit bag.
"Do I get to see?"
"Yes." He answers while putting it into his closet.
She flashes and exasperated look at him. "Do I get to see before the wedding?"
That got a grin out of him. "Do you want to see?"
"Yes! When do I not want to see you get dressed up?"
He laughs and begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it over his head when he got the first three buttons undone. "Everything else all set for tonight?"
"According to my list, you getting a shower and dressed are the only two things left."
He nods, pulling off his socks. "Don't let me forget a pen."
"Good point."
Tim and Gibbs had been chosen as the witnesses to sign the Ketubah. Though many friends and family may be called to witness the signing of the Ketubah and the reading of the contract, two especially close friends are called to sign the contract in addition to the bride and groom. Traditionally the witnesses are men, though Ziva and Tony's congregation is egalitarian, allowing anyone who isn't a blood relative to sign. But when Tony and Ziva sat down to talk it over they chose the two men who had their backs, who would die to protect them, and kill to avenge them. They chose their team, and that's Tim and Gibbs.
Abby gets up, leaving their bedroom for a moment, and returns with one of Tim's pens, tucking it into the breast pocket of the suit he'll be wearing tonight. Once done, she heads to the bathroom to do her makeup.
A few minutes later, as she was putting on her mascara, Tim stood in the doorway to the bathroom and said, "Well?"
Abby turns to him, a wide, pleased, slightly amazed smile on her face, and says, "Oh." She put the mascara wand back into the tube and then put it on the sink, just staring at him. Tim's standing in front of her, expectant look on his face. Her eyes take him in from glossy black shoes to ebony cufflinks, midnight tie to sable wool-silk blend jacket. She blinked slowly, and exhaled, "Wow!"
Expectant broke into a wide grin.
"If I had known you looked like this in a tux, we might have gotten married with you in one."
He shifts the door, so he can see himself in the full-length mirror. "If I had known I could look like this in a suit, I might wear them more often. I'll say this for Tony, his tailor really knows what he's doing."
Abby's slowly circling Tim, looking at him appraisingly, hand trailing over his low back. "He really does. Yeah, I'm thinking you should do suits on occasion."
See, if you were to ask Tim, he'd tell you that he generally looks, well, kind of gaunt and lanky in suits. (At least over the last year. Previous to that he's looked plump and round in them, and he didn't love that look, either.) And not in what he considers a good way. He's never worn one that he thought really looked good on him. Which is why he rarely wears them. Weddings, funerals, testifying in court, and occasional nice date nights, and beyond that, they live in his closet and collect dust.
He's seen guys who do suits well. Tony, he always looks great.
And now he knows why. Apparently having someone who knows how a suit is supposed to fit go and actually make one for you results in you looking like James Fucking Bond, and not the Daniel Craig version, but Sean Connery.
LinkThough as he looks at himself in the tux, he's thinking he's got more of a Loki in Germany look going than James Bond. A killer scarf and overcoat, and he'd nail it. (Well, at least as close as a guy who bears absolutely no resemblance at all to Tom Hiddleston can… though if he grew his hair out five more inches and slicked it back… Nope, face isn't sharp enough for that.)
The fact that custom clothing has never occurred to Tim seems like a glaring error right this second. His bed was custom made, so were his tattoos, wedding rings, and Abby's engagement ring. And it's not like he's adverse to spending money on clothing. He's got some good clothes that were pretty damn expensive.
And, if three grand on a suit can make him look like this, well… maybe he might want to get another one. Not for every day wear or anything, but maybe a gray one for hot date nights…
"I think you're right about that." He looks at the suits in his closet. He'd been intending to wear the dark gray one for tonight, and suddenly he's really not wanting to do that. "Well, suits made by Dom. My regular ones all look like utter crap now."
"No they don't."
"They don't look like this."
"True." Abby circles to face him, hands resting on his chest, and looked at him more closely. "Did you do an eldritch knot in the tie."
He smiled, a tinge of naughty playfulness pulling at the corners of his lips. "I can't look exactly like Tony and Jimmy, and this is subtle enough Tony won't flip out."
She laughs at that. "I like you in vests, too."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I bet the top half of this would look great with the McGee tartan."
"I bet it would, but I've already been told that Jimmy will pin me down and beat me into submission if I try to wear makeup or a kilt to tonight or the wedding."
Abby laughs at that. "Kilt, that vest, shirt, and tie, black nail polish, eyeliner, your boots." She looks at him, eyes warm and sparkling, trailing up and down his body. "Damn!"
He's smiling at that idea, enjoying the look of sexual hunger on her face. "Okay, yes, that will happen, but not tonight. I was thinking that maybe we'd do something special on Monday. That could be part of it."
The wedding, like many Jewish weddings, is on Sunday, and barring a catastrophe requiring all hands on deck, team Gibbs is off the Monday after the wedding. "What are you thinking of for Monday?"
"It's a surprise. But I think you'll like it, and that could definitely be part of it."
"I am intrigued."
"Good, and we're gonna be late if I don't get showered and changed fast."
And yes, after the tux, the suit he had intended to wear just looked sad. But he put it on, made a mental note to call Dom about a date night suit, and got ready for the reading and signing of the Ketubah.
They returned to middle of nowhere park as the stars were beginning to prickle through dusk, and found they were the last ones there. (Tim was quite pleased to see the solar switch he set turned the lights on when the sun sank. He'd really been hoping he wasn't going to get here and find everyone using their headlights to avoid wandering in the dark.)
For the signing the usual core group attended along with a few new additions, Senior, his date, and Ziva's Schmiel.
Senior with a date isn't anything new. Senior with a date who appears to be over sixty, a very attractive, polished, self-assured over sixty, but over sixty none-the-less, pleased Tony to no end.
Tony had been dreading meeting Daphine since his father mentioned he'd have a plus one. Probably because he assumed Daphine would be younger than Breena, twice as pretty and half as smart. His father's type. From Tony talking about it, Tim had certainly expected young, pretty, simple, and looking for money. So older, refined, a soft voice accented with something that sounds like French but he doesn't think actually is French, was a pleasant surprise.
One he didn't have much time to ponder.
The Rabbi is waving them forward, and he's still got to grab a hat from Ducky.
Tim doesn't own any hats. Scratch that, he's got one knit one for doing cold things outside in winter, and one super fuzzy furry one for doing really cold things, and unless his ears are in danger of frostbite, they stay in his closet. He hates the way he looks in hats. But covering his head is a sign of respect. And while tomorrow they'll all be wearing yarmulkes, today he's snagging a fedora from Ducky.
He kisses Penny's cheek, grabs the headgear, sets it on his head, and joins the Rabbi, Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs under the chuppah for the reading and signing of the Ketubah.
Tony whispered to him, "You're late!"
"I'm on time. You're all early."
"On time is late."
"Fine."
Then the Rabbi began the ceremony, explaining what was going to happen and why.
It doesn't take that long. And while the actual Ketubah is in Hebrew (Ziva told him that in Orthodox congregations they're in Aramaic, but their Reform congregation does Hebrew.) the Rabbi reads it in English since most of this group doesn't speak Hebrew.
Basically, there's no point to witnessing a document if you have no idea what's in it.
It's a very… functional is probably a good word… document. It basically lists the responsibilities of the husband (food, clothing, sex), what happens should there be a divorce, what sort of monetary settlements would be made, stuff like that.
In any other circumstance he'd call it a pre-nup. But apparently, since the dawn of Judiasm, the idea that in addition to vague and nebulous concepts of love and cherish (that's part of tomorrow's ceremony) there would also be an actual document stating exactly what is expected of the husband, and precisely what would happen should he not live up to it.
Tim thinks that's awfully cool.
Plus he's very amused by the idea that providing sex to his wife is the husband's duty and he can't just wander off without her permission thus cutting her off. He makes a mental note to mention to Gibbs that he can't just drag Tony off to the ends of the earth without getting Ziva's okay. Then he thinks twice about that, because if Jethro's not taking Tony or Ziva that means he'll take Tim, and he wants to stay close to home, too.
At the end of the reading came the signing. Since it is a Reform congregation, both Tony and Ziva sign it, followed by Gibbs and Tim.
The document was illuminated by hand. What Tim thinks of as traditional Hebrew script, black ink with silver and gold highlights, decorated with cherry blossoms twined together up and down the sides. It's beautiful, and that's intentional. Apparently it's a mitzvah to make things that glory God as beautiful as possible.
Tim's actually a little nervous about sticking his signature on it. Once upon a time it was a fairly tidy collection of left slanting letters, but these days it's messy scrawl with only three legible letters. It's not, even remotely, beautiful.
But it's his, and he's been chosen to put it on there, so he does.
And doing so means this part of the wedding is over, and it's time for dinner, and the party to start.
Chapter 183: Cherry Blossoms and Tuxes
For the second time in six months, the extended Gibbs Clan gathered for a wedding.
But Jewish weddings don't exactly work the same way Christian ones do.
They're a two-step process.
And while in a Christian or secular American wedding the night before is the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, usually followed by Team Bride and Groom heading off for separate merrymaking, a Jewish wedding begins the night before with the signing of the Ketubah, the official marriage contract.
So, in order to give this ceremony proper honors, they're at the park Gibbs found for them, a little, out of the way place, probably popular a hundred years ago, but mostly forgotten now. But it's in okay (if somewhat wild) shape, it's not filled with other people, and the clearing they're in is ringed with blooming cherry trees, setting up for tomorrow.
The most important part, the chuppah, is up, and mostly decorated. (The girls are doing the flowers with the florist tomorrow.) But for now it's burnished rods of oak, finished to look like all the warmth of the sun has solidified into wood, woven together into four pillars. Gibbs and Breena attached the top supports, while Jimmy, Tony, and Tim dug the holes in the ground to keep the posts steady. Ziva and Abby straightened out the yards of gauzy cream and snow-colored fabric, and then draped it over the supports, weaving it through the posts.
Gibbs and Jimmy have lawn mowers so they're in charge of getting a path to the chuppah, and enough of the space in front of it to hold eighteen people trimmed down so that guests won't have to worry about being eaten alive by the grass and weeds.
Abby and Tony are in charge of posting signs. This place is pretty far off the beaten path so DiNozzo-David Wedding signs are going up. It's not that the GPS can't find it. Punch where you're going into your GPS while you're still in DC and it's got no trouble at all locating the place. It's that for most of them their GPS stopped working about three miles from the park, leaving them driving about on smaller and smaller roads in the middle of pretty rural Virginia, so old fashioned signs need to be set up.
Tim's wiring the lights for tonight. Technically, it's the Sabbath and they shouldn't be working at all, but setting up now works better for everyone's schedule, so they're here. The Rabbi on the other hand, won't be coming until the Sabbath is over, after sunset. So Tim's making sure that when he gets here, they'll have enough light to actually see the Ketubah, read it, and sign it.
Hanging out with Sr. and DuckyLinkOf course, off the beaten path means there's no electricity here, but he's hoping that the car battery he's got rigged to the lighting set up will do the job.
Ziva and Breena are setting up the chairs, putting them in place and making sure the satin covers are secure. Sure, they're probably asking for a freak thunder storm to show up and wreck everything by setting them up today instead of tomorrow morning, but they want to get as much done ahead of time as possible.
It's a small enough group they aren't bothering with a bride's side or groom's side. So they're set in three rows of six.
Two tents, one for team bride and one for team groom for the pre-wedding waiting about finish off the site.It takes about two hours, but the site is (except for the flowers) all set and ready to go.
The downside of beautiful little park out in the middle of nowhere is that… It's in the middle of nowhere. So they got everything done, and then drove an hour back to DC to get ready for that evening.
The signing of the Ketubah is a big deal, and being invited to witness it is an honor reserved for close family and friends. So, you can't just wear the same grungy jeans, work boots, and button down you had on for setting up the chuppah.
And that downtime in the middle of the day gives Tim a little spot of time to run that last errand he'd been putting off for a week, namely grabbing his tux.
He got home with it while Abby was still damp from getting out of the shower. She's sitting on the bed, toweling off her hair as Tim walks in with the suit bag.
"Do I get to see?"
"Yes." He answers while putting it into his closet.
She flashes and exasperated look at him. "Do I get to see before the wedding?"
That got a grin out of him. "Do you want to see?"
"Yes! When do I not want to see you get dressed up?"
He laughs and begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it over his head when he got the first three buttons undone. "Everything else all set for tonight?"
"According to my list, you getting a shower and dressed are the only two things left."
He nods, pulling off his socks. "Don't let me forget a pen."
"Good point."
Tim and Gibbs had been chosen as the witnesses to sign the Ketubah. Though many friends and family may be called to witness the signing of the Ketubah and the reading of the contract, two especially close friends are called to sign the contract in addition to the bride and groom. Traditionally the witnesses are men, though Ziva and Tony's congregation is egalitarian, allowing anyone who isn't a blood relative to sign. But when Tony and Ziva sat down to talk it over they chose the two men who had their backs, who would die to protect them, and kill to avenge them. They chose their team, and that's Tim and Gibbs.
Abby gets up, leaving their bedroom for a moment, and returns with one of Tim's pens, tucking it into the breast pocket of the suit he'll be wearing tonight. Once done, she heads to the bathroom to do her makeup.
A few minutes later, as she was putting on her mascara, Tim stood in the doorway to the bathroom and said, "Well?"
Abby turns to him, a wide, pleased, slightly amazed smile on her face, and says, "Oh." She put the mascara wand back into the tube and then put it on the sink, just staring at him. Tim's standing in front of her, expectant look on his face. Her eyes take him in from glossy black shoes to ebony cufflinks, midnight tie to sable wool-silk blend jacket. She blinked slowly, and exhaled, "Wow!"
Expectant broke into a wide grin.
"If I had known you looked like this in a tux, we might have gotten married with you in one."
He shifts the door, so he can see himself in the full-length mirror. "If I had known I could look like this in a suit, I might wear them more often. I'll say this for Tony, his tailor really knows what he's doing."
Abby's slowly circling Tim, looking at him appraisingly, hand trailing over his low back. "He really does. Yeah, I'm thinking you should do suits on occasion."
See, if you were to ask Tim, he'd tell you that he generally looks, well, kind of gaunt and lanky in suits. (At least over the last year. Previous to that he's looked plump and round in them, and he didn't love that look, either.) And not in what he considers a good way. He's never worn one that he thought really looked good on him. Which is why he rarely wears them. Weddings, funerals, testifying in court, and occasional nice date nights, and beyond that, they live in his closet and collect dust.
He's seen guys who do suits well. Tony, he always looks great.
And now he knows why. Apparently having someone who knows how a suit is supposed to fit go and actually make one for you results in you looking like James Fucking Bond, and not the Daniel Craig version, but Sean Connery.
LinkThough as he looks at himself in the tux, he's thinking he's got more of a Loki in Germany look going than James Bond. A killer scarf and overcoat, and he'd nail it. (Well, at least as close as a guy who bears absolutely no resemblance at all to Tom Hiddleston can… though if he grew his hair out five more inches and slicked it back… Nope, face isn't sharp enough for that.)The fact that custom clothing has never occurred to Tim seems like a glaring error right this second. His bed was custom made, so were his tattoos, wedding rings, and Abby's engagement ring. And it's not like he's adverse to spending money on clothing. He's got some good clothes that were pretty damn expensive.
And, if three grand on a suit can make him look like this, well… maybe he might want to get another one. Not for every day wear or anything, but maybe a gray one for hot date nights…
"I think you're right about that." He looks at the suits in his closet. He'd been intending to wear the dark gray one for tonight, and suddenly he's really not wanting to do that. "Well, suits made by Dom. My regular ones all look like utter crap now."
"No they don't."
"They don't look like this."
"True." Abby circles to face him, hands resting on his chest, and looked at him more closely. "Did you do an eldritch knot in the tie."
He smiled, a tinge of naughty playfulness pulling at the corners of his lips. "I can't look exactly like Tony and Jimmy, and this is subtle enough Tony won't flip out."
She laughs at that. "I like you in vests, too."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I bet the top half of this would look great with the McGee tartan."
"I bet it would, but I've already been told that Jimmy will pin me down and beat me into submission if I try to wear makeup or a kilt to tonight or the wedding."
Abby laughs at that. "Kilt, that vest, shirt, and tie, black nail polish, eyeliner, your boots." She looks at him, eyes warm and sparkling, trailing up and down his body. "Damn!"
He's smiling at that idea, enjoying the look of sexual hunger on her face. "Okay, yes, that will happen, but not tonight. I was thinking that maybe we'd do something special on Monday. That could be part of it."
The wedding, like many Jewish weddings, is on Sunday, and barring a catastrophe requiring all hands on deck, team Gibbs is off the Monday after the wedding. "What are you thinking of for Monday?"
"It's a surprise. But I think you'll like it, and that could definitely be part of it."
"I am intrigued."
"Good, and we're gonna be late if I don't get showered and changed fast."
And yes, after the tux, the suit he had intended to wear just looked sad. But he put it on, made a mental note to call Dom about a date night suit, and got ready for the reading and signing of the Ketubah.
They returned to middle of nowhere park as the stars were beginning to prickle through dusk, and found they were the last ones there. (Tim was quite pleased to see the solar switch he set turned the lights on when the sun sank. He'd really been hoping he wasn't going to get here and find everyone using their headlights to avoid wandering in the dark.)
For the signing the usual core group attended along with a few new additions, Senior, his date, and Ziva's Schmiel.
Senior with a date isn't anything new. Senior with a date who appears to be over sixty, a very attractive, polished, self-assured over sixty, but over sixty none-the-less, pleased Tony to no end.
Tony had been dreading meeting Daphine since his father mentioned he'd have a plus one. Probably because he assumed Daphine would be younger than Breena, twice as pretty and half as smart. His father's type. From Tony talking about it, Tim had certainly expected young, pretty, simple, and looking for money. So older, refined, a soft voice accented with something that sounds like French but he doesn't think actually is French, was a pleasant surprise.
One he didn't have much time to ponder.
The Rabbi is waving them forward, and he's still got to grab a hat from Ducky.Tim doesn't own any hats. Scratch that, he's got one knit one for doing cold things outside in winter, and one super fuzzy furry one for doing really cold things, and unless his ears are in danger of frostbite, they stay in his closet. He hates the way he looks in hats. But covering his head is a sign of respect. And while tomorrow they'll all be wearing yarmulkes, today he's snagging a fedora from Ducky.
He kisses Penny's cheek, grabs the headgear, sets it on his head, and joins the Rabbi, Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs under the chuppah for the reading and signing of the Ketubah.
Tony whispered to him, "You're late!"
"I'm on time. You're all early."
"On time is late."
"Fine."
Then the Rabbi began the ceremony, explaining what was going to happen and why.
It doesn't take that long. And while the actual Ketubah is in Hebrew (Ziva told him that in Orthodox congregations they're in Aramaic, but their Reform congregation does Hebrew.) the Rabbi reads it in English since most of this group doesn't speak Hebrew.
Basically, there's no point to witnessing a document if you have no idea what's in it.
It's a very… functional is probably a good word… document. It basically lists the responsibilities of the husband (food, clothing, sex), what happens should there be a divorce, what sort of monetary settlements would be made, stuff like that.
In any other circumstance he'd call it a pre-nup. But apparently, since the dawn of Judiasm, the idea that in addition to vague and nebulous concepts of love and cherish (that's part of tomorrow's ceremony) there would also be an actual document stating exactly what is expected of the husband, and precisely what would happen should he not live up to it.
Tim thinks that's awfully cool.
Plus he's very amused by the idea that providing sex to his wife is the husband's duty and he can't just wander off without her permission thus cutting her off. He makes a mental note to mention to Gibbs that he can't just drag Tony off to the ends of the earth without getting Ziva's okay. Then he thinks twice about that, because if Jethro's not taking Tony or Ziva that means he'll take Tim, and he wants to stay close to home, too.
At the end of the reading came the signing. Since it is a Reform congregation, both Tony and Ziva sign it, followed by Gibbs and Tim.
The document was illuminated by hand. What Tim thinks of as traditional Hebrew script, black ink with silver and gold highlights, decorated with cherry blossoms twined together up and down the sides. It's beautiful, and that's intentional. Apparently it's a mitzvah to make things that glory God as beautiful as possible.
Tim's actually a little nervous about sticking his signature on it. Once upon a time it was a fairly tidy collection of left slanting letters, but these days it's messy scrawl with only three legible letters. It's not, even remotely, beautiful.
But it's his, and he's been chosen to put it on there, so he does.
And doing so means this part of the wedding is over, and it's time for dinner, and the party to start.
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 182
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 182: Beauty/Identity
"I'm getting so fat!"
"Abby?" Tim had been in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed. He stepped out and saw Abby staring at her backside in the mirror on her closet door, well, glaring at it in the mirror, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
On the way home from Gibbs' they'd picked up her maid of honor dress, and she was trying it on.
Back when Ziva picked bridesmaids dresses out, she'd had one pregnant bridesmaid and one who had just miscarried, so to say that she had no decent way of figuring out how her ladies would look in a month, when the dresses would be ready, was an understatement.
So, she had pulled all of her tactical thinking skills together, along with all of her fashion skills, and decided that anyone of any shape looks good in a strapless dress with an empire waist and a flowing crepe skirt that fell to just above the knees.
And, Tim would completely agree with that. He thinks Abby looks great in the ivory gown with a band of baby pink beading just below the breasts.
But she's staring at herself and scowling. Shifting from the back view to the side view, and scowling even more.
So he turns to look at her in the mirror. Maybe she looks different reflected. Nope.
"You look great."
"I look fat!"
He stared at her intently for a few seconds. "Nope. I can still see your tarsals, carpals, and clavicles. Not fat. Trust me, I'd know." At least on his body, being able to easily see his wrist, ankle, and collar bones is a very good sign of not having crossed the line between fit and plump.
"I have two chins when I tilt my head down." She says, head down, wiggling the offensive flap of skin.
"So does everyone." He demonstrates by looking down, and then tilts his head up. "You wouldn't be able to look up if you didn't have that skin there."
"My butt is huge!" She's looking at her backside again.
He's realizing that this is not a discussion where rational argument is going to help. They just went to the doctor today, so he knows she's gained fourteen pounds which is exactly where she should be for twenty weeks pregnant. So he retreats to the bathroom, puts his toothbrush back, and quickly rinses his mouth. Then he came out again, (she appeared to be studying her thighs and not liking what she was seeing) stepped behind her, and placed on hand on each hip, and began gently caressing the butt in question.
"It's soft and round and curvy."
"Stop that!" She looks like she wants to sulk, but he's not playing along, not on this. No one calls Abby ugly or fat, not in front of him, not even Abby.
"Nope. You, and this butt that appears to be annoying you, are absolutely delicious." He'd press up tight behind her, but he's naked, and though he's fairly sure his skin is dry and clean, this is a white dress so he can't risk getting any stains on it, so he stays a step back as his hands trace from her butt to her belly and breasts. "You are not fat. You are exactly the shape you're supposed to be right now, and I adore it."He very carefully unhooked the top of the dress and pulled the zip down, then lifted it off of her, and draped it over her dresser. "Can't risk getting that stained or rumpled."
She's not exactly looking happy at him, but she's not as annoyed as she was a minute ago either.
He closes on her again, and turns her toward the mirror. Under the dress she had on a strapless bra and nothing else. He stood right behind her, and undid the bra, tossing it in the delicates hamper.
Then he pressed in close, erection rubbing against her butt as his hands stroked from her neck down her arms, fingers twining with hers.
"You're beautiful, Abby. And yeah, you're bigger than you used to be, but you aren't fat. You're all round and soft, ripe, succulent, and it drives me crazy because all I want to do is constantly rub up against you." He kissed her shoulder, and stroked her thighs, then ground his pelvis against her. "Feel that? Your body does that to mine." That got a smile out of her. "Half the time I'm in the lab these days, I've got a hard-on from watching you. You in those little dresses or skirts, tummy and breasts all plump and round. If Gibbs didn't have a habit of wandering down every ten minutes when I go down there, I'd have you bent over your desk, panties round your ankles, balls deep inside you, feeling you bite my hand to muffle your screams, my mouth on your shoulder for the same reason, every single day, twice on paperwork days."
She giggles a little at that, perking up as his fingers find her nipples.
"I have noticed that. You come down, and these days within ten minutes he does, too."
"Yeah, well, he's not blind, so he's noticed how good you look. And it's not like he just met me, so he's not exactly having a hard time figuring out how I'm responding to it or what I'm likely to want to do about it. And not to put too fine a point on it, but he was here once, too. I'm sure he remembers what it feels like to have a delicious pregnant wife."
That got another laugh, and she looked at herself again, less critically, but still less than thrilled at her current shape. "Not fat?"
"Not fat. Round, soft, ripe, succulent, scrumptious, exquisite… fertile. Think about it, on its most basic level that's what female beauty is to a man. Signs of fertility." His hands ghost over her breasts, belly, and hips. "Biology means I want to make babies. So you pregnant with my kid is going to hit all of my buttons, hard, fist slammed down on them pressing your full weight into them. Nothing is ever going to get to me the way this does. And it does, it really does, in a pure, balls in charge, brain isn't even checking in, oh god, SEX! YES! level. On a pure biology level, the only reason I exist is to get you pregnant, keep you pregnant, and make sure your and our kid survive. So… I guess what I'm saying is, I'm going to be a really unsympathetic audience for complaining about how you look, because all I see is SEX!, sex, sex, sex, sex, with a side of MINE! My woman. My baby." He kissed her neck, hands cradling her belly. "So, no, not fat. Not fat at all. Perfect. And if you asked Jimmy or Tony or Gibbs they'd tell you the same thing, not fat at all."
"I still think my butt looks huge."
He shook his head. "You're welcome to think that, but I don't."
"And your opinion is the only one that matters?"
"Damn right! My opinion on the subject seems to make both of us happy. Your opinion makes neither of us happy. So let's stick with mine."
She rolled her eyes a little. "I don't look like me."
Ahhh… Identity issues, not just changing body. That makes sense to him. It's something he's facing as well. But it's nothing he's got a set or easy answer for.
He kissed her shoulder, and Kelly took that moment to start kicking. The soft, fluttery sensation beneath his fingers helped him get his thoughts in order.
"I'll hand my badge and gun to Vance, but I'll still be me. You'll get rounder, look less like Abby, but you'll still be you. But you and I won't be the Tim or Abby we were. Just like Jimmy and Breena aren't the people they were before Jon and Molly. But they're still Jimmy and Breena, and we still love them and want to be with them."
She smiles a little at that, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It feels really weird to look in the mirror and have to take a second to realize who I'm looking at."
"I bet it does. I feel that way when I see pictures of myself over the years."
"But not when you look in the mirror?"
Link"I gained and lost the weight slowly enough that there was never a 'who the hell is that' moment. Okay, once… Remember when I buzzed my hair off?"
"Yeah. I love you, and I will always love you, but please, don't ever do that again."
"I'm not intending to. Anyway, for about a week after that, I kept wondering who that guy with the really round head was. I felt like I looked like Charlie Brown."
Abby laughs at that. "That was a pretty bad look for you."
"Yeah, I know I knew about a third of the way through that haircut, but by that point I was committed." He trailed his fingers down her arm, over her ribs and down to her hip. "I love you. I love this version of you. I'm going to love the version you'll be in three months, and the version you were three months ago. Kelly comes out, and everything is going to be droopy and saggy and I'm still going to love you."
"Don't remind me of that part. Breena's got horror stories of how bad she looked after Molly came out."
"Breena looked fine after Molly was born."
"You didn't see her naked."
"True. She still looked fine."
Abby turns in his arms to face him, placed a quick kiss on his lips and says, "Tim, besides her nursing breasts, did you notice anything, at all, about Breena after she gave birth?"He flashes her his innocent look. "I kept up a strict policy of never looking below Breena's neck when she was nursing."
That gets a smile out of Abby. "Liar."
"Yes." He smiles back, and kisses the tip of her nose. "They really were fantastic."
"I agree."
His fingers find her breasts, and gently stroke over the sides. "And I'm going to be staring at yours all the time, too. If what Jimmy tells me about nursing breast being a look but don't touch sort of thing is true, I'll be looking and probably taking pictures, too."
"Horny bastard."
He smiles and kisses her. "For you, always."
Chapter 182: Beauty/Identity
"I'm getting so fat!"
"Abby?" Tim had been in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed. He stepped out and saw Abby staring at her backside in the mirror on her closet door, well, glaring at it in the mirror, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
On the way home from Gibbs' they'd picked up her maid of honor dress, and she was trying it on.
Back when Ziva picked bridesmaids dresses out, she'd had one pregnant bridesmaid and one who had just miscarried, so to say that she had no decent way of figuring out how her ladies would look in a month, when the dresses would be ready, was an understatement.
So, she had pulled all of her tactical thinking skills together, along with all of her fashion skills, and decided that anyone of any shape looks good in a strapless dress with an empire waist and a flowing crepe skirt that fell to just above the knees.
And, Tim would completely agree with that. He thinks Abby looks great in the ivory gown with a band of baby pink beading just below the breasts.
But she's staring at herself and scowling. Shifting from the back view to the side view, and scowling even more.
So he turns to look at her in the mirror. Maybe she looks different reflected. Nope.
"You look great."
"I look fat!"
He stared at her intently for a few seconds. "Nope. I can still see your tarsals, carpals, and clavicles. Not fat. Trust me, I'd know." At least on his body, being able to easily see his wrist, ankle, and collar bones is a very good sign of not having crossed the line between fit and plump.
"I have two chins when I tilt my head down." She says, head down, wiggling the offensive flap of skin.
"So does everyone." He demonstrates by looking down, and then tilts his head up. "You wouldn't be able to look up if you didn't have that skin there."
"My butt is huge!" She's looking at her backside again.
He's realizing that this is not a discussion where rational argument is going to help. They just went to the doctor today, so he knows she's gained fourteen pounds which is exactly where she should be for twenty weeks pregnant. So he retreats to the bathroom, puts his toothbrush back, and quickly rinses his mouth. Then he came out again, (she appeared to be studying her thighs and not liking what she was seeing) stepped behind her, and placed on hand on each hip, and began gently caressing the butt in question.
"It's soft and round and curvy."
"Stop that!" She looks like she wants to sulk, but he's not playing along, not on this. No one calls Abby ugly or fat, not in front of him, not even Abby.
"Nope. You, and this butt that appears to be annoying you, are absolutely delicious." He'd press up tight behind her, but he's naked, and though he's fairly sure his skin is dry and clean, this is a white dress so he can't risk getting any stains on it, so he stays a step back as his hands trace from her butt to her belly and breasts. "You are not fat. You are exactly the shape you're supposed to be right now, and I adore it."He very carefully unhooked the top of the dress and pulled the zip down, then lifted it off of her, and draped it over her dresser. "Can't risk getting that stained or rumpled."
She's not exactly looking happy at him, but she's not as annoyed as she was a minute ago either.
He closes on her again, and turns her toward the mirror. Under the dress she had on a strapless bra and nothing else. He stood right behind her, and undid the bra, tossing it in the delicates hamper.
Then he pressed in close, erection rubbing against her butt as his hands stroked from her neck down her arms, fingers twining with hers.
"You're beautiful, Abby. And yeah, you're bigger than you used to be, but you aren't fat. You're all round and soft, ripe, succulent, and it drives me crazy because all I want to do is constantly rub up against you." He kissed her shoulder, and stroked her thighs, then ground his pelvis against her. "Feel that? Your body does that to mine." That got a smile out of her. "Half the time I'm in the lab these days, I've got a hard-on from watching you. You in those little dresses or skirts, tummy and breasts all plump and round. If Gibbs didn't have a habit of wandering down every ten minutes when I go down there, I'd have you bent over your desk, panties round your ankles, balls deep inside you, feeling you bite my hand to muffle your screams, my mouth on your shoulder for the same reason, every single day, twice on paperwork days."
She giggles a little at that, perking up as his fingers find her nipples.
"I have noticed that. You come down, and these days within ten minutes he does, too."
"Yeah, well, he's not blind, so he's noticed how good you look. And it's not like he just met me, so he's not exactly having a hard time figuring out how I'm responding to it or what I'm likely to want to do about it. And not to put too fine a point on it, but he was here once, too. I'm sure he remembers what it feels like to have a delicious pregnant wife."
That got another laugh, and she looked at herself again, less critically, but still less than thrilled at her current shape. "Not fat?"
"Not fat. Round, soft, ripe, succulent, scrumptious, exquisite… fertile. Think about it, on its most basic level that's what female beauty is to a man. Signs of fertility." His hands ghost over her breasts, belly, and hips. "Biology means I want to make babies. So you pregnant with my kid is going to hit all of my buttons, hard, fist slammed down on them pressing your full weight into them. Nothing is ever going to get to me the way this does. And it does, it really does, in a pure, balls in charge, brain isn't even checking in, oh god, SEX! YES! level. On a pure biology level, the only reason I exist is to get you pregnant, keep you pregnant, and make sure your and our kid survive. So… I guess what I'm saying is, I'm going to be a really unsympathetic audience for complaining about how you look, because all I see is SEX!, sex, sex, sex, sex, with a side of MINE! My woman. My baby." He kissed her neck, hands cradling her belly. "So, no, not fat. Not fat at all. Perfect. And if you asked Jimmy or Tony or Gibbs they'd tell you the same thing, not fat at all."
"I still think my butt looks huge."
He shook his head. "You're welcome to think that, but I don't."
"And your opinion is the only one that matters?"
"Damn right! My opinion on the subject seems to make both of us happy. Your opinion makes neither of us happy. So let's stick with mine."
She rolled her eyes a little. "I don't look like me."
Ahhh… Identity issues, not just changing body. That makes sense to him. It's something he's facing as well. But it's nothing he's got a set or easy answer for.
He kissed her shoulder, and Kelly took that moment to start kicking. The soft, fluttery sensation beneath his fingers helped him get his thoughts in order.
"I'll hand my badge and gun to Vance, but I'll still be me. You'll get rounder, look less like Abby, but you'll still be you. But you and I won't be the Tim or Abby we were. Just like Jimmy and Breena aren't the people they were before Jon and Molly. But they're still Jimmy and Breena, and we still love them and want to be with them."
She smiles a little at that, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It feels really weird to look in the mirror and have to take a second to realize who I'm looking at."
"I bet it does. I feel that way when I see pictures of myself over the years."
"But not when you look in the mirror?"
Link"I gained and lost the weight slowly enough that there was never a 'who the hell is that' moment. Okay, once… Remember when I buzzed my hair off?""Yeah. I love you, and I will always love you, but please, don't ever do that again."
"I'm not intending to. Anyway, for about a week after that, I kept wondering who that guy with the really round head was. I felt like I looked like Charlie Brown."
Abby laughs at that. "That was a pretty bad look for you."
"Yeah, I know I knew about a third of the way through that haircut, but by that point I was committed." He trailed his fingers down her arm, over her ribs and down to her hip. "I love you. I love this version of you. I'm going to love the version you'll be in three months, and the version you were three months ago. Kelly comes out, and everything is going to be droopy and saggy and I'm still going to love you."
"Don't remind me of that part. Breena's got horror stories of how bad she looked after Molly came out."
"Breena looked fine after Molly was born."
"You didn't see her naked."
"True. She still looked fine."
Abby turns in his arms to face him, placed a quick kiss on his lips and says, "Tim, besides her nursing breasts, did you notice anything, at all, about Breena after she gave birth?"He flashes her his innocent look. "I kept up a strict policy of never looking below Breena's neck when she was nursing."
That gets a smile out of Abby. "Liar."
"Yes." He smiles back, and kisses the tip of her nose. "They really were fantastic."
"I agree."
His fingers find her breasts, and gently stroke over the sides. "And I'm going to be staring at yours all the time, too. If what Jimmy tells me about nursing breast being a look but don't touch sort of thing is true, I'll be looking and probably taking pictures, too."
"Horny bastard."
He smiles and kisses her. "For you, always."
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 181
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 181: It's A...
Once again, they're sitting next to the ultrasound machine, waiting for the tech to show up and start taking pictures.
It's the third time, so it's starting to get a little routine, but there's also the buzz of excitement that comes with finding out if Kelly really is a girl.
"You know, we're gonna feel silly if Kelly's a boy," Tim says, holding Abby's hand, looking at the currently blanks screen.
"You might. I won't."
"Okay. What are we calling him if he's not a girl?" They've been so certain that Kelly's a girl they haven't even talked about boys names.
She thinks about that as they wait for the ultrasound tech. "Not Tony."
Yeah, he can get behind that. Maybe as a middle name, but not a first name. Tony McGee, no matter how much he loves DiNozzo just sounds bad. "Definitely not Tony."
"Sean?" Abby asks.
He thinks about that. "Sean McGee is really Irish."
"Is that bad?" Abby's noticed that Tim doesn't identify as Irish. He's just American. But she's never dug deep enough to know if it's part of him not being his Dad, or if, like the Sciutos weren't Italian in any meaningful sense, the McGees weren't Irish.
"No. Just pointing it out. I kind of like it. Sean James…" He lets that roll around in his mind for a second, the image of a little boy with sandy blonde hair and green eyes clicking with that name.
"Sean James McGee sounds really good," Abby says, and he's thinking she's probably got a pretty similar image in her mind.
"Yeah."
Then the tech came in, and discussion of what Kelly might be called if there was indeed a penis stopped.
And once again they watched as different features revealed themselves. Heart first, thrumming away, strong and steady; veins and arteries doing the jobs they were built for. Liver, kidneys, lungs and brain all looked good. Arms, legs, hands, feet, fingers and toes were all accounted for.
And two minutes later, possible boys names became an entirely moot point as the tech says, "No testicles, that's a little girl."
Gibbs was staring at the ultrasound picture. They'd headed over to his place after work, wanting to show it to him first, and ask him a serious question. Sure, they'd been calling her Kelly when they were alone together, but now was the time to find out if they could keep that name.
For a few minutes, he just looked at the picture. Sure he's seen ultrasounds of babies and they all look pretty much the same, but this is his little girl, so that adds to it. Doesn't matter that he couldn't pick her out from a collection of other ultrasounds unless he could see the McGee on the upper left corner, it's his girl, and that's what matters.
Abby was sitting next to him on the sofa, leaning her head into his shoulder, (he has his arm around her) looking at the picture with him. Then she started the question. "She's a girl, and we were wondering... Well, Tim was wondering... I was going to just go ahead and do it... But he wanted to make sure it was okay..." Tim notices her eyes are tearing up, and she's putting more and more phrases between now and the actual question, so he squeezes her hand and takes over.
"We'd like to call her Kelly, but we also wanted to make sure it'd be okay with you."
Gibbs smiles, eyes warm, looking at the black and white image in front of him, fingers lightly stroking the tiny white hand on the picture. "Yeah, it's okay."
Abby took Gibbs' hand in hers. "We'd also like you to think about what you want her to call you. Gibbs or Jethro is fine if you like it, but Grandpa or Pop, which was what Tim called his grandfather, or if there's something you really liked, something you imagined your grandkids calling you, that would be even better."
The smile on Gibbs' face grew even wider. He kissed the top of Abby's head before looking at Tim and saying, "I like Pop."
They were on the way home, having grabbed a quick dinner and Abby's maid of honor dress, when Abby said, "Kelly what McGee."
"Huh?" Tim wasn't really paying attention, he was merging into traffic, and an idiot in a blue Suburban kept trying to stay exactly in his blind spot.
Abby can see he's focused on the road, so she waits for him to get into the lane he's aiming for before saying, "Middle name. You whipped James out to go along with Sean in like three seconds flat. What goes with Kelly?"
"Uh…" Tim's drawing a blank. Kelly Ziva doesn't sound right to him. Kelly Sarah.. not bad, but he's already got four Sarahs in his family. "Does something have to go with it? I don't have a middle name."
"Nope. But most people have them, usually honoring family or something like that. Like, you know, whipping James out nine seconds after Sean."
"About half of that is honoring Jimmy. A quarter is that James sounds really good with Sean. The other quarter is that Jethro's names are pretty awful so I'm not saddling any boys we have with them."
"Gibbs' names are fine!" Abby looks appalled that Tim would insult Leroy or Jethro.
"Says the woman who only refers to him by last name." And yeah, he loves Gibbs, but well, there are family names and family names, and if someone you love has a god-awful name, you find another way to honor them, like naming your kid after their kid.
Abby sticks her tongue out at him.
"Okay, fine, his names are great," lots of dry sarcasm on that, "for the 1950s. When have you met a Leroy or Jethro that was under fifty?"
"Never."
"And you know everyone on the eastern seaboard. So, what do you like for a middle name?"
"I don't know. Elizabeth?"
"Kelly Elizabeth McGee… Not bad. Not in love with it, but it's not bad. Anne?"
"That's Breena and Jimmy's number two girl name."
Tim tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "So you're thinking we shouldn't snag it and leave them looking for a new one?"
"Yeah. With any luck they'll be having a conversation pretty similar to this real soon. Something fiction-y? What girl characters do you love?"
"You mean, besides the ones I've written?"
"Yeah, I do not want Amy, Lisa, or Gail to show up on the list."
"Okay… Willow, Fred, Zoe, Kaylee…"
"Whedon-verse, good first pick. No on Fred or Kaylee."
"I know, I'm just going through the list. And really Kelly Willow doesn't work, either." He glances to the left, the lane is clear, shifts over, and speeds up a little.
"Yeah, not good. Kelly Zoe is too many ee sounds."
"How about you, what girls characters do you love?"
Abby sighs and pets her belly. "Do we need to have that argument about the lack of awesome female characters in the kinds of things I like to read or watch again?"
"No." They'd gotten into a pretty heated argument about whether there were or were not any good strong female characters in recent fiction, with Abby claiming they were horribly rare and Tim saying they were all over the place if you just looked. It wasn't pretty. And probably wouldn't have been nearly as passionate had she not been hopped up on pregnancy hormones or he a writer. The makeup sex was fun, though. "Just, kind of annoying to be told there are no strong female characters out there when every single thing I write has them."
"I know. How about that series you gave me a while back… Autumn. I like her."
"Autumn was a psychopath, and the villain."
"Yeah, but she had a lot of style."
"Because she was a Fairy. Style is sort of a racial trait, what with the whole glamour thing. How about Claire? She was cool."
"Claire was cold. And Kelly Claire McGee… nope. I liked Sarah, too. She certainly fit the kick-ass, take-names strong female mold."
"I was thinking about that. Naming her after my sister is fine, but I've already got four Sarahs in my family. Probably don't need a fifth."
"Good point."
"Eowyn?"
"Yeah, I'm good with an out there name, but maybe not that far out."
"Leia? Queen of the kick-ass female heroes?"
"Kelly Leia McGee… Eh. Kelly's a really normal name… something too far out on the middle name isn't going to work."
"Probably right. We've got time. Don't need one tonight," he says as he pulls into their driveway. "Really, we don't need one at all. I like Kelly McGee."
"Unless we can find something we both love, we'll skip the middle name." She thinks about that for a moment as they walk in. Timothy McGee… Something was missing there. "Tim, why don't you have a confirmation name? Everyone else I know who got confirmed has one."
He slouches a little, tilting his head to the side and sighing. "I have one. It's just… kind of silly and embarrassing."
"Worse than Teresa?" Abby asks as she sits on the bottom step to take her boots off.
"Teresa is cool. Lots of good Teresas. Which one were you thinking of?"
"The mystic."
He laughs at that, approving. "And I am less than shocked. She ran a convent, and went into ecstatic trances, and was a major player theologically, right?"
"And wrote music and poetry too."
"That's not dumb at all." He unzips his coat and hangs it up. Then holds out his hand for Abby's coat.
"So what was yours?"
"Raphael."
She stops in the middle of taking her coat off and looks at him. "Why would you think that's silly or embarrassing?"
"Probably because these days all anyone knows is the Mutant Ninja Turtle."
Abby smiles at that, handing him her coat. "So, which one was he?"
"The sulky one with the sais."
She adds a little roll of her eyes to go with the smile. "Which angel? I know he's one of the big ones, but I besides Michael being the warrior, I don't remember which ones do what."
"The healer. I still thought I was going to be a surgeon then."
"Then it's a great name."
He thinks about that for a bit while kicking his shoes into the closet. "My dad didn't like it. He never went full out on me for it, maybe because I was seven. Maybe because he was sure I'd actually tell the priest who ran the confirmation class why I'd suddenly decided to change it. So he was just disdainful of it, and really talked up Nicholas and Brendan."
"Why those two?"
"Patron saints of sailors. But Penny and my mom really liked Raphael. And I really liked MASH, thought being a trauma surgeon would be the best thing ever. And since Father Sam kindly told me that no, there was no Saint Hawkeye or BJ, I went with Raphael."
Abby's nodding. "It's a good name."
"Thanks."
Next
Chapter 181: It's A...
Once again, they're sitting next to the ultrasound machine, waiting for the tech to show up and start taking pictures.
It's the third time, so it's starting to get a little routine, but there's also the buzz of excitement that comes with finding out if Kelly really is a girl.
"You know, we're gonna feel silly if Kelly's a boy," Tim says, holding Abby's hand, looking at the currently blanks screen.
"You might. I won't."
"Okay. What are we calling him if he's not a girl?" They've been so certain that Kelly's a girl they haven't even talked about boys names.
She thinks about that as they wait for the ultrasound tech. "Not Tony."
Yeah, he can get behind that. Maybe as a middle name, but not a first name. Tony McGee, no matter how much he loves DiNozzo just sounds bad. "Definitely not Tony."
"Sean?" Abby asks.
He thinks about that. "Sean McGee is really Irish."
"Is that bad?" Abby's noticed that Tim doesn't identify as Irish. He's just American. But she's never dug deep enough to know if it's part of him not being his Dad, or if, like the Sciutos weren't Italian in any meaningful sense, the McGees weren't Irish.
"No. Just pointing it out. I kind of like it. Sean James…" He lets that roll around in his mind for a second, the image of a little boy with sandy blonde hair and green eyes clicking with that name.
"Sean James McGee sounds really good," Abby says, and he's thinking she's probably got a pretty similar image in her mind.
"Yeah."
Then the tech came in, and discussion of what Kelly might be called if there was indeed a penis stopped.
And once again they watched as different features revealed themselves. Heart first, thrumming away, strong and steady; veins and arteries doing the jobs they were built for. Liver, kidneys, lungs and brain all looked good. Arms, legs, hands, feet, fingers and toes were all accounted for.
And two minutes later, possible boys names became an entirely moot point as the tech says, "No testicles, that's a little girl."
Gibbs was staring at the ultrasound picture. They'd headed over to his place after work, wanting to show it to him first, and ask him a serious question. Sure, they'd been calling her Kelly when they were alone together, but now was the time to find out if they could keep that name.For a few minutes, he just looked at the picture. Sure he's seen ultrasounds of babies and they all look pretty much the same, but this is his little girl, so that adds to it. Doesn't matter that he couldn't pick her out from a collection of other ultrasounds unless he could see the McGee on the upper left corner, it's his girl, and that's what matters.
Abby was sitting next to him on the sofa, leaning her head into his shoulder, (he has his arm around her) looking at the picture with him. Then she started the question. "She's a girl, and we were wondering... Well, Tim was wondering... I was going to just go ahead and do it... But he wanted to make sure it was okay..." Tim notices her eyes are tearing up, and she's putting more and more phrases between now and the actual question, so he squeezes her hand and takes over.
"We'd like to call her Kelly, but we also wanted to make sure it'd be okay with you."
Gibbs smiles, eyes warm, looking at the black and white image in front of him, fingers lightly stroking the tiny white hand on the picture. "Yeah, it's okay."
Abby took Gibbs' hand in hers. "We'd also like you to think about what you want her to call you. Gibbs or Jethro is fine if you like it, but Grandpa or Pop, which was what Tim called his grandfather, or if there's something you really liked, something you imagined your grandkids calling you, that would be even better."
The smile on Gibbs' face grew even wider. He kissed the top of Abby's head before looking at Tim and saying, "I like Pop."
They were on the way home, having grabbed a quick dinner and Abby's maid of honor dress, when Abby said, "Kelly what McGee."
"Huh?" Tim wasn't really paying attention, he was merging into traffic, and an idiot in a blue Suburban kept trying to stay exactly in his blind spot.
Abby can see he's focused on the road, so she waits for him to get into the lane he's aiming for before saying, "Middle name. You whipped James out to go along with Sean in like three seconds flat. What goes with Kelly?"
"Uh…" Tim's drawing a blank. Kelly Ziva doesn't sound right to him. Kelly Sarah.. not bad, but he's already got four Sarahs in his family. "Does something have to go with it? I don't have a middle name."
"Nope. But most people have them, usually honoring family or something like that. Like, you know, whipping James out nine seconds after Sean."
"About half of that is honoring Jimmy. A quarter is that James sounds really good with Sean. The other quarter is that Jethro's names are pretty awful so I'm not saddling any boys we have with them."
"Gibbs' names are fine!" Abby looks appalled that Tim would insult Leroy or Jethro.
"Says the woman who only refers to him by last name." And yeah, he loves Gibbs, but well, there are family names and family names, and if someone you love has a god-awful name, you find another way to honor them, like naming your kid after their kid.
Abby sticks her tongue out at him.
"Okay, fine, his names are great," lots of dry sarcasm on that, "for the 1950s. When have you met a Leroy or Jethro that was under fifty?"
"Never."
"And you know everyone on the eastern seaboard. So, what do you like for a middle name?"
"I don't know. Elizabeth?"
"Kelly Elizabeth McGee… Not bad. Not in love with it, but it's not bad. Anne?"
"That's Breena and Jimmy's number two girl name."
Tim tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "So you're thinking we shouldn't snag it and leave them looking for a new one?"
"Yeah. With any luck they'll be having a conversation pretty similar to this real soon. Something fiction-y? What girl characters do you love?"
"You mean, besides the ones I've written?"
"Yeah, I do not want Amy, Lisa, or Gail to show up on the list."
"Okay… Willow, Fred, Zoe, Kaylee…"
"Whedon-verse, good first pick. No on Fred or Kaylee."
"I know, I'm just going through the list. And really Kelly Willow doesn't work, either." He glances to the left, the lane is clear, shifts over, and speeds up a little.
"Yeah, not good. Kelly Zoe is too many ee sounds."
"How about you, what girls characters do you love?"
Abby sighs and pets her belly. "Do we need to have that argument about the lack of awesome female characters in the kinds of things I like to read or watch again?"
"No." They'd gotten into a pretty heated argument about whether there were or were not any good strong female characters in recent fiction, with Abby claiming they were horribly rare and Tim saying they were all over the place if you just looked. It wasn't pretty. And probably wouldn't have been nearly as passionate had she not been hopped up on pregnancy hormones or he a writer. The makeup sex was fun, though. "Just, kind of annoying to be told there are no strong female characters out there when every single thing I write has them."
"I know. How about that series you gave me a while back… Autumn. I like her."
"Autumn was a psychopath, and the villain."
"Yeah, but she had a lot of style."
"Because she was a Fairy. Style is sort of a racial trait, what with the whole glamour thing. How about Claire? She was cool."
"Claire was cold. And Kelly Claire McGee… nope. I liked Sarah, too. She certainly fit the kick-ass, take-names strong female mold."
"I was thinking about that. Naming her after my sister is fine, but I've already got four Sarahs in my family. Probably don't need a fifth."
"Good point."
"Eowyn?"
"Yeah, I'm good with an out there name, but maybe not that far out."
"Leia? Queen of the kick-ass female heroes?"
"Kelly Leia McGee… Eh. Kelly's a really normal name… something too far out on the middle name isn't going to work."
"Probably right. We've got time. Don't need one tonight," he says as he pulls into their driveway. "Really, we don't need one at all. I like Kelly McGee."
"Unless we can find something we both love, we'll skip the middle name." She thinks about that for a moment as they walk in. Timothy McGee… Something was missing there. "Tim, why don't you have a confirmation name? Everyone else I know who got confirmed has one."
He slouches a little, tilting his head to the side and sighing. "I have one. It's just… kind of silly and embarrassing."
"Worse than Teresa?" Abby asks as she sits on the bottom step to take her boots off.
"Teresa is cool. Lots of good Teresas. Which one were you thinking of?"
"The mystic."
He laughs at that, approving. "And I am less than shocked. She ran a convent, and went into ecstatic trances, and was a major player theologically, right?"
"And wrote music and poetry too."
"That's not dumb at all." He unzips his coat and hangs it up. Then holds out his hand for Abby's coat.
"So what was yours?"
"Raphael."
She stops in the middle of taking her coat off and looks at him. "Why would you think that's silly or embarrassing?"
"Probably because these days all anyone knows is the Mutant Ninja Turtle."
Abby smiles at that, handing him her coat. "So, which one was he?"
"The sulky one with the sais."
She adds a little roll of her eyes to go with the smile. "Which angel? I know he's one of the big ones, but I besides Michael being the warrior, I don't remember which ones do what."
"The healer. I still thought I was going to be a surgeon then."
"Then it's a great name."
He thinks about that for a bit while kicking his shoes into the closet. "My dad didn't like it. He never went full out on me for it, maybe because I was seven. Maybe because he was sure I'd actually tell the priest who ran the confirmation class why I'd suddenly decided to change it. So he was just disdainful of it, and really talked up Nicholas and Brendan."
"Why those two?"
"Patron saints of sailors. But Penny and my mom really liked Raphael. And I really liked MASH, thought being a trauma surgeon would be the best thing ever. And since Father Sam kindly told me that no, there was no Saint Hawkeye or BJ, I went with Raphael."Abby's nodding. "It's a good name."
"Thanks."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 180
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 180: Bedtime
"How are you doing?" Tim asked Jimmy after they got back to their room and began to get ready for bed.
"You mean besides the fact that I'm not supposed to be here tonight because my wife is supposed to be eight months pregnant."
"No. I mean about that."
Jimmy shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. "I've only texted home three times."
"I noticed. You're getting better on that."
"Yeah. According to Gibbs I can't let the fear own me. So, I'm trying."
"If anyone would know, it's him."
"He always looks fearless."
"Easy to be fearless when you don't value your life."
"Really?"
"Not anymore, not for years. But back when we all started? Yeah."
Jimmy seemed to think about that as he headed to the bathroom. Five minutes later, he was back in a pair of flannel pajama pants that looked very similar to what Tim wore for hot yoga. That triggered the memory of the conversation they had post-hot yoga, so Tim asked, "If I wanted to try shaving it all off, what would you suggest?"
"Tim?"
He rolled his eyes a little, signaling that yes, this was a little silly, but he's curious and comfortable enough with Jimmy to ask about it. "We've got that long weekend after Tony's wedding, and we like to celebrate weddings, so, something special might be in order."
Jimmy laughed. "Why didn't you google it?"
A really wicked grin lit up Tim's face. "Oh, I did. On Ziva's computer. And I left a really obvious trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow. Next time she searches anything that starts with sh it'll pop up."
Jimmy laughed at that, too. "That's your elf porn revenge isn't it."
"Yep, it took a while to figure out the right thing, but I think that'll work really well." Tim looked deeply satisfied at that.
Jimmy shook his head and grinned. "He's going to wet his pants when she shows up with a smile and a razor."
Tim's got a really smug and pleased expression on his face. "That was the plan. So, tips?"
"Do it as close to having sex as you can, and leave at least an hour for it. You shave your face every day?"
"Nah. Every other. Don't really get stubbly until the second day."
"That's about where I am. 'Round about a day and a half I end up with a five o'clock shadow. So, maybe you'll have ten or twelve hours where it's not an issue, but it's really going to itch when it starts to grow back in."
"Got it."
"Cotton boxers or better yet, wear one of the kilts after. You've got pubic hair for a reason, and dealing with hot and sweaty is that reason, so keep yourself cool and dry."
"All right."
"Brand new razor, a good one, you want it sharp as sharp can be. Good shaving cream or gel or whatever, not soap." Tim's nodding at that. He doesn't like shaving his face with soap, and can't imagine his privates would be any less sensitive. "Trim first, as close as you can get. And for the love of God, pay attention to the go-with-the-grain thing. I know none of us do it when we shave our faces, but really, do it. First pass with the grain, second across it, no third pass. Pluck anything that's left after two passes, because your skin doesn't want a razor going over it more than that. Wash off, pat dry, spray with a little Neosporin, you're good to go."
"Why am I spraying with Neosporin?"
"Because no matter how good at it you are, you've probably got a few hundred tiny, microscopic cuts, and maybe a few you can see as well, and that's one area you don't want an infection, and between the sting and how it tastes, you don't want to be splashing aftershave on it."
"Good points."
Jimmy stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head, still on top of the blankets. "You going to tell her about it or just surprise her?"
"Not sure yet. Probably a surprise."
Jimmy nodded, looked like he's thinking about saying something, and finally decided to say it. "You tell her about it, and she might offer to do it for you. And… well, that's fun and easier, 'cause, she can see what she's doing better than you can."
"Uh huh…"
"And… you know, she's a whole lot more used to shaving delicate places."
"True. So… you let Breena…"
He rolled onto his side to face Tim, who's sitting cross-legged on his bed, unpacking his go-bag. "Not the first time. But, as she pointed out to me, and I'm pointing out to you, she knew what she was doing, and was in a much better position to do it. I mean, are you good at figuring out how to do something by looking in a mirror? I'm not."
"Actually, yes, I am good at that."
"Okay then. Still, it's more fun if she does it."
"You really get off on danger, don't you?"
Jimmy just looked at Tim curiously.
"Look, I trust Abby with my life. Hell, I let her put eyeliner and mascara on me, she even does the waterline—"
"What's the waterline?"
"The little part the eyelashes grow out of, right next to your eye." Tim pointed to it as he said it. Jimmy winced at that idea, and Tim continued. "But I don't want her holding a razor to my balls."
"Meh." Jimmy was supremely unconcerned about that. "I'm way more likely to slice the hell out of myself than she is. So… do you do the whole makeup thing a lot?"
"Besides that Shabbos, a couple of times a year when we go to one of her clubs. Sometimes when we're playing. Call it ten times a year, max."
"Does it feel weird?"
Tim thought about that for a few seconds, not sure what Jimmy's asking. "How do you mean feel, like physical sensation or emotional?"
"Both, either?"
"First few times, yeah, it felt weird. I kept wanting to rub my eyes. But the first couple times I was in college playing live action Vampire, so by the time I met Abby I was sort of used to it."
"Live action Vampire? Like, you running around sucking people's blood?"
"In a nutshell. Though lots of Vampire politics and intrigue, as well."
Jimmy laughed. "You're the biggest nerd ever."
"Uh huh." Tim just nodded, dryly amused. "You're the one asking me about it."
"True enough. So, you're, what, nineteen, and running around in your vampire costume, complete with cape, fangs, white skin, red lipstick, and eyeliner?"
Tim had a pretty good idea of the kind of vampire Jimmy was thinking of. "You're watching way too much Sesame Street. I looked nothing like The Count. I was seventeen and eighteen, and I played a Brujah."
"That means literally nothing to me."
"Brujahs are anarchist vampires. They started out philosopher warriors and by the time the '90s had rolled around their big thing was destroying the system. Black trench coat, raggedy jeans, t-shirt, wallet on a chain, hair long, scraggly, sprayed black and electric blue, eyeliner, fake tats on face and neck, combat boots, overly fond of Nine Inch Nails. His name was Elijah, and I played the hell out of that character."
"Oh, I remember you guys. Our school had a building called the Campus Center, and it was a cafeteria, meeting space, classrooms, theater, and coffee shop, all in one building. But the middle of it was wide open with these huge staircases, and every Friday nights all the freaks came out and kept wandering around doing stuff in tons of black and makeup."
"Yeah, that would have been us."
"Then on Saturday they'd gear up with homemade nerf weapons, armor, and dart guns and play something that looked like capture the flag. And Sunday was live action chess."
"You had a really serious gamer community at your school, didn't you?"
"I think there was only something like thirty of them, but yeah, they were really gung ho about it. I'd be practicing with the rest of the Choir, and a few of them would come running through, brandishing their weapons, yelling something, and twenty seconds later, three more would follow."
"Yeah, that would have been me. And when the role required makeup, I wore it. And since I started doing it with other gamers, and we were already, as you so kindly put it, freaks, wearing it on didn't feel weird on any sort of emotional level. It was just part of the game, like putting on headgear for wrestling."
Jimmy nodded at that.
"Why are you asking?"
"Breena was really… enthusiastic... about the idea of me in makeup after seeing you wear it."
"Huh." Tim's eyebrows shot up. He supposed that shouldn't be a surprise, Breena does seem to like the more rock and roll look, or at least she's always approved of it when he plays with it.
"Yeah."
"And you didn't do it?"
"It's kind of weird."
Tim rolled his eyes. "Your dick's not going to fall off because you put on mascara."
"Yeah, I know. It's just…" Jimmy kind of looked like he's hoping Tim will cut in so he doesn't have to finish that sentence, but Tim just waited for him.
"Just…"
"Kind of girly."
Tim snorted at that. "Says the guy who shaves off his pubes."
"Guys do that!"
"Last I checked, I'm a guy. Your girl likes you in it, what's the deal? It's fun. She's happy. The sex is good. Who cares if you've got on eyeliner?"
"So, how do you do it and not look like a clown?"
"Are you asking me for makeup tips?"
"A: Yes. B: Nothing about this conversation is ever, ever repeated to Tony. C: You started this."
Tim nodded. Hell, this conversation likely wasn't getting mentioned to Abby, let alone anyone else. "Abby does mine. She's a whole lot better at it than I am. The only thing I do for myself is my nails." Decades of model building, followed by his different electrical/computer projects mean Tim actually has steadier hands than Abby. So, between that and the fact that she doesn't wear nail polish regularly, he does his own, and on the few occasions she wears it, hers.
"It's not much of a surprise if she does it, now is it?"
Tim laughed at that. "Youtube has videos on how to do everything. There have got to be makeup videos on there. Buy good stuff, because you don't want to end up having an allergic reaction."
"What's good stuff?"
"I like Urban Decay."
"You have a brand?"
"For eyeliner I do. It's soft, goes on nice, stays put forever, and unlike the stuff Abby likes, it doesn't bug my eyes. First time she did my eyes, we had to skip going out that night because both eyes swelled shut in like five minutes."
"Ew." Jimmy winced, and Tim nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. And it's not impossible that I like Urban Decay because, well, it's a punk brand, so a guy walks in in a kilt and grabs some black eyeliner and nail polish they don't look at me like I'm weird. And, sure this is dumb as hell, black is black is black, but I'm a lot more comfortable buying a color called Perversion, Zero, or Oil Slick, than something called Midnight Orchid or whatever other girly name the other companies come up with."
Jimmy laughs at that, then thinks about it, tries to imagine buying something like Sable Kiss or whatever, and says, "Good point."
"Anyway. Videos, then if you want to surprise her, get your own stuff, or swipe hers, and practice right before you get a shower. Wash off, and when you think you know what you're doing, let your inner rock star out."
Tim grabs his toiletries and jammies and heads to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he's brushing his teeth when a thought hits him, so he heads out of the bathroom. "You know—"
"Are you really having a conversation with me while you brush your teeth?" Jimmy was under the blankets, just staring at Tim, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening.
"That a problem?"
"We're not married."
"Oh sorry. I didn't realize that after talking sex and makeup while we're sharing a room and you're in your pajamas that brushing my teeth in front of you was too intimate. I've shared a room with Tony seventeen million times, and even he can take this. Gibbs'll walk in on you naked, without knocking, and just stand there, talking to you like it's no big deal."
He ducked back into the bathroom to finish up and came back out when Jimmy said, "Why would Gibbs walk into your room naked?"
"No. He'll walk in while you're naked."
"Okay, that makes more sense. So, what great revelation just hit you?"
Tim got into his bed. "Lipstick."
"Lipstick?"
"No matter how Gothed out I go, I don't wear it. I just… really didn't like the idea of it. It took Abby two years to get me into it."
"And you're bringing this up why?"
"Just, I get it. It took a minute, but I get it. That was my bridge too far. The thing that was too girly."
"But you did it?"
"Yeah. Couldn't get that tattoo on her neck without my lip print, and no way to get that without it."
"Eyeliner didn't bother you, but lipstick did?"
"Not saying it wasn't silly, but yeah."
"And am I correct in noticing you using the past tense?"
Tim looked a little sheepish. "I still don't love it. Won't look at myself in it, cause it has to look dumb as hell. I'm not pretty enough to pull off glam. But… she really does like it. And leaving lip prints on her is a lot of fun. And my dick didn't fall off. It was still perfectly fine and had an awfully good time when I was wearing it."
"Uh huh." Jimmy was quiet, and flipped off the light as Tim got settled in bed. Then he asked, "What color?"
"Black the first time, like the tattoo. Then she found this stuff online, Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics Lip Tars, they're basically lip paint, and you can mix them together to make lots of colors, and they come in a lot of colors, too. So she got like every color you can imagine: blue and green and purple and gold and silver and one weekend we tried them all out, and I covered her in lots of different colors, and she did me."
"That was fun?"
"Yeah. I never got hickies. Never understood why you might want to suck on her so hard you left a bruise. Pain, inflicting it or receiving it, just really doesn't do it for me."
"Says the guy with three tattoos."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I don't know; it just is. Anyway, looking back and seeing all those little marks, knowing I put them there, and that stuff stays on like, forever, if you don't wash it off, that was a kick. Like the tattoos, but not nearly as expensive, you don't need another person, and you can get places you don't want a tattoo gun going anywhere near. That was a lot of fun."
"Huh. So you're saying you had a two person rainbow party?"
"I guess. You ever wonder if stuff like that is real? Or just urban legends. I mean, the girls I knew in high school and junior high weren't doing stuff like that."
"Let's put it this way: when I was seventeen I would have given my right nut for it to be real. Now, with a year-old little girl, I'm hoping it's an urban legend."
Tim laughed a little at that. "You and Gibbs looked ready to kill Tony."
"I love Tony, but… There was just this sense of rage. And there's nothing he can do about it. And I know it was the '80s and the rules were different, but, yeah, I wanted to hit him, really hard. She's going to grow up and there'll be guys out there who'll be aggressive jerks, and it's scary."
Tim nodded.
"It was probably easier when Gibbs was a dad. You could just take a stand: No sex until you get married! Go put that caftan on and enjoy your education at St. Mary's All Girl School for Extremely Catholic Virgins!" Jimmy stopped and thought about that. "I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to be Fornell. I see the way he watches Emily and how his blood pressure goes shooting up every time it looks like she's getting interested in a guy or sex. I want Molly to have boyfriends and to enjoy them. I just don't want her to get hurt. I don't want her to get sick. I really don't want to be a grandfather any time in the next two decades, and three would be even better. I want her to know about what her mother chose, and why it was a good thing, but I also want her to know about Abby and Ziva and… I want her to own her body, own her sexuality, and I'm so scared some asshole's gonna try and take it away from her or hurt her for making her own decisions."
Tim sighed. "There's nothing you can do about that, not now. But, the good thing is you probably don't have to worry about it for at least a decade. And by then, we'll have our own Fear of Dad razor sharp."
"I hope so. But we'll only be able to scare the ones we know about. We won't always be around."
"Nope. But unlike Fornell, and I'm going to guess a lot of the girls Tony was fooling around with, we are going to be there every day, every night, showing our girls by how we live how a man who loves a woman treats her. Our girls are going to know what respect looks like because we'll live it. And our girls aren't going to be acting out, craving Daddy's attention, because they'll have it."
He can hear a slight rustle from Jimmy's bed, and assumed that was him shrugging.
"And I'll wire them with GPS trackers so we can swoop in and save the day if need be."
That got a laugh out of Jimmy. "Good night, Tim."
"Night."
Next
Chapter 180: Bedtime
"How are you doing?" Tim asked Jimmy after they got back to their room and began to get ready for bed.
"You mean besides the fact that I'm not supposed to be here tonight because my wife is supposed to be eight months pregnant."
"No. I mean about that."
Jimmy shrugged, pulling his shirt over his head. "I've only texted home three times."
"I noticed. You're getting better on that."
"Yeah. According to Gibbs I can't let the fear own me. So, I'm trying."
"If anyone would know, it's him."
"He always looks fearless."
"Easy to be fearless when you don't value your life."
"Really?"
"Not anymore, not for years. But back when we all started? Yeah."
Jimmy seemed to think about that as he headed to the bathroom. Five minutes later, he was back in a pair of flannel pajama pants that looked very similar to what Tim wore for hot yoga. That triggered the memory of the conversation they had post-hot yoga, so Tim asked, "If I wanted to try shaving it all off, what would you suggest?"
"Tim?"
He rolled his eyes a little, signaling that yes, this was a little silly, but he's curious and comfortable enough with Jimmy to ask about it. "We've got that long weekend after Tony's wedding, and we like to celebrate weddings, so, something special might be in order."
Jimmy laughed. "Why didn't you google it?"
A really wicked grin lit up Tim's face. "Oh, I did. On Ziva's computer. And I left a really obvious trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow. Next time she searches anything that starts with sh it'll pop up."
Jimmy laughed at that, too. "That's your elf porn revenge isn't it."
"Yep, it took a while to figure out the right thing, but I think that'll work really well." Tim looked deeply satisfied at that.
Jimmy shook his head and grinned. "He's going to wet his pants when she shows up with a smile and a razor."
Tim's got a really smug and pleased expression on his face. "That was the plan. So, tips?"
"Do it as close to having sex as you can, and leave at least an hour for it. You shave your face every day?"
"Nah. Every other. Don't really get stubbly until the second day."
"That's about where I am. 'Round about a day and a half I end up with a five o'clock shadow. So, maybe you'll have ten or twelve hours where it's not an issue, but it's really going to itch when it starts to grow back in."
"Got it."
"Cotton boxers or better yet, wear one of the kilts after. You've got pubic hair for a reason, and dealing with hot and sweaty is that reason, so keep yourself cool and dry."
"All right."
"Brand new razor, a good one, you want it sharp as sharp can be. Good shaving cream or gel or whatever, not soap." Tim's nodding at that. He doesn't like shaving his face with soap, and can't imagine his privates would be any less sensitive. "Trim first, as close as you can get. And for the love of God, pay attention to the go-with-the-grain thing. I know none of us do it when we shave our faces, but really, do it. First pass with the grain, second across it, no third pass. Pluck anything that's left after two passes, because your skin doesn't want a razor going over it more than that. Wash off, pat dry, spray with a little Neosporin, you're good to go."
"Why am I spraying with Neosporin?"
"Because no matter how good at it you are, you've probably got a few hundred tiny, microscopic cuts, and maybe a few you can see as well, and that's one area you don't want an infection, and between the sting and how it tastes, you don't want to be splashing aftershave on it."
"Good points."
Jimmy stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head, still on top of the blankets. "You going to tell her about it or just surprise her?"
"Not sure yet. Probably a surprise."
Jimmy nodded, looked like he's thinking about saying something, and finally decided to say it. "You tell her about it, and she might offer to do it for you. And… well, that's fun and easier, 'cause, she can see what she's doing better than you can."
"Uh huh…"
"And… you know, she's a whole lot more used to shaving delicate places."
"True. So… you let Breena…"
He rolled onto his side to face Tim, who's sitting cross-legged on his bed, unpacking his go-bag. "Not the first time. But, as she pointed out to me, and I'm pointing out to you, she knew what she was doing, and was in a much better position to do it. I mean, are you good at figuring out how to do something by looking in a mirror? I'm not."
"Actually, yes, I am good at that."
"Okay then. Still, it's more fun if she does it."
"You really get off on danger, don't you?"
Jimmy just looked at Tim curiously.
"Look, I trust Abby with my life. Hell, I let her put eyeliner and mascara on me, she even does the waterline—"
"What's the waterline?"
"The little part the eyelashes grow out of, right next to your eye." Tim pointed to it as he said it. Jimmy winced at that idea, and Tim continued. "But I don't want her holding a razor to my balls."
"Meh." Jimmy was supremely unconcerned about that. "I'm way more likely to slice the hell out of myself than she is. So… do you do the whole makeup thing a lot?"
"Besides that Shabbos, a couple of times a year when we go to one of her clubs. Sometimes when we're playing. Call it ten times a year, max."
"Does it feel weird?"
Tim thought about that for a few seconds, not sure what Jimmy's asking. "How do you mean feel, like physical sensation or emotional?"
"Both, either?"
"First few times, yeah, it felt weird. I kept wanting to rub my eyes. But the first couple times I was in college playing live action Vampire, so by the time I met Abby I was sort of used to it."
"Live action Vampire? Like, you running around sucking people's blood?"
"In a nutshell. Though lots of Vampire politics and intrigue, as well."
Jimmy laughed. "You're the biggest nerd ever."
"Uh huh." Tim just nodded, dryly amused. "You're the one asking me about it."
"True enough. So, you're, what, nineteen, and running around in your vampire costume, complete with cape, fangs, white skin, red lipstick, and eyeliner?"
Tim had a pretty good idea of the kind of vampire Jimmy was thinking of. "You're watching way too much Sesame Street. I looked nothing like The Count. I was seventeen and eighteen, and I played a Brujah."
"That means literally nothing to me."
"Brujahs are anarchist vampires. They started out philosopher warriors and by the time the '90s had rolled around their big thing was destroying the system. Black trench coat, raggedy jeans, t-shirt, wallet on a chain, hair long, scraggly, sprayed black and electric blue, eyeliner, fake tats on face and neck, combat boots, overly fond of Nine Inch Nails. His name was Elijah, and I played the hell out of that character."
"Oh, I remember you guys. Our school had a building called the Campus Center, and it was a cafeteria, meeting space, classrooms, theater, and coffee shop, all in one building. But the middle of it was wide open with these huge staircases, and every Friday nights all the freaks came out and kept wandering around doing stuff in tons of black and makeup."
"Yeah, that would have been us."
"Then on Saturday they'd gear up with homemade nerf weapons, armor, and dart guns and play something that looked like capture the flag. And Sunday was live action chess."
"You had a really serious gamer community at your school, didn't you?"
"I think there was only something like thirty of them, but yeah, they were really gung ho about it. I'd be practicing with the rest of the Choir, and a few of them would come running through, brandishing their weapons, yelling something, and twenty seconds later, three more would follow."
"Yeah, that would have been me. And when the role required makeup, I wore it. And since I started doing it with other gamers, and we were already, as you so kindly put it, freaks, wearing it on didn't feel weird on any sort of emotional level. It was just part of the game, like putting on headgear for wrestling."
Jimmy nodded at that.
"Why are you asking?"
"Breena was really… enthusiastic... about the idea of me in makeup after seeing you wear it."
"Huh." Tim's eyebrows shot up. He supposed that shouldn't be a surprise, Breena does seem to like the more rock and roll look, or at least she's always approved of it when he plays with it.
"Yeah."
"And you didn't do it?"
"It's kind of weird."
Tim rolled his eyes. "Your dick's not going to fall off because you put on mascara."
"Yeah, I know. It's just…" Jimmy kind of looked like he's hoping Tim will cut in so he doesn't have to finish that sentence, but Tim just waited for him.
"Just…"
"Kind of girly."
Tim snorted at that. "Says the guy who shaves off his pubes."
"Guys do that!"
"Last I checked, I'm a guy. Your girl likes you in it, what's the deal? It's fun. She's happy. The sex is good. Who cares if you've got on eyeliner?"
"So, how do you do it and not look like a clown?"
"Are you asking me for makeup tips?"
"A: Yes. B: Nothing about this conversation is ever, ever repeated to Tony. C: You started this."
Tim nodded. Hell, this conversation likely wasn't getting mentioned to Abby, let alone anyone else. "Abby does mine. She's a whole lot better at it than I am. The only thing I do for myself is my nails." Decades of model building, followed by his different electrical/computer projects mean Tim actually has steadier hands than Abby. So, between that and the fact that she doesn't wear nail polish regularly, he does his own, and on the few occasions she wears it, hers.
"It's not much of a surprise if she does it, now is it?"
Tim laughed at that. "Youtube has videos on how to do everything. There have got to be makeup videos on there. Buy good stuff, because you don't want to end up having an allergic reaction."
"What's good stuff?"
"I like Urban Decay."
"You have a brand?"
"For eyeliner I do. It's soft, goes on nice, stays put forever, and unlike the stuff Abby likes, it doesn't bug my eyes. First time she did my eyes, we had to skip going out that night because both eyes swelled shut in like five minutes."
"Ew." Jimmy winced, and Tim nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. And it's not impossible that I like Urban Decay because, well, it's a punk brand, so a guy walks in in a kilt and grabs some black eyeliner and nail polish they don't look at me like I'm weird. And, sure this is dumb as hell, black is black is black, but I'm a lot more comfortable buying a color called Perversion, Zero, or Oil Slick, than something called Midnight Orchid or whatever other girly name the other companies come up with."
Jimmy laughs at that, then thinks about it, tries to imagine buying something like Sable Kiss or whatever, and says, "Good point."
"Anyway. Videos, then if you want to surprise her, get your own stuff, or swipe hers, and practice right before you get a shower. Wash off, and when you think you know what you're doing, let your inner rock star out."
Tim grabs his toiletries and jammies and heads to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he's brushing his teeth when a thought hits him, so he heads out of the bathroom. "You know—"
"Are you really having a conversation with me while you brush your teeth?" Jimmy was under the blankets, just staring at Tim, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening.
"That a problem?"
"We're not married."
"Oh sorry. I didn't realize that after talking sex and makeup while we're sharing a room and you're in your pajamas that brushing my teeth in front of you was too intimate. I've shared a room with Tony seventeen million times, and even he can take this. Gibbs'll walk in on you naked, without knocking, and just stand there, talking to you like it's no big deal."
He ducked back into the bathroom to finish up and came back out when Jimmy said, "Why would Gibbs walk into your room naked?"
"No. He'll walk in while you're naked."
"Okay, that makes more sense. So, what great revelation just hit you?"
Tim got into his bed. "Lipstick."
"Lipstick?"
"No matter how Gothed out I go, I don't wear it. I just… really didn't like the idea of it. It took Abby two years to get me into it."
"And you're bringing this up why?"
"Just, I get it. It took a minute, but I get it. That was my bridge too far. The thing that was too girly."
"But you did it?"
"Yeah. Couldn't get that tattoo on her neck without my lip print, and no way to get that without it."
"Eyeliner didn't bother you, but lipstick did?"
"Not saying it wasn't silly, but yeah."
"And am I correct in noticing you using the past tense?"
Tim looked a little sheepish. "I still don't love it. Won't look at myself in it, cause it has to look dumb as hell. I'm not pretty enough to pull off glam. But… she really does like it. And leaving lip prints on her is a lot of fun. And my dick didn't fall off. It was still perfectly fine and had an awfully good time when I was wearing it."
"Uh huh." Jimmy was quiet, and flipped off the light as Tim got settled in bed. Then he asked, "What color?"
"Black the first time, like the tattoo. Then she found this stuff online, Obsessive Compulsive Cosmetics Lip Tars, they're basically lip paint, and you can mix them together to make lots of colors, and they come in a lot of colors, too. So she got like every color you can imagine: blue and green and purple and gold and silver and one weekend we tried them all out, and I covered her in lots of different colors, and she did me.""That was fun?"
"Yeah. I never got hickies. Never understood why you might want to suck on her so hard you left a bruise. Pain, inflicting it or receiving it, just really doesn't do it for me."
"Says the guy with three tattoos."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I don't know; it just is. Anyway, looking back and seeing all those little marks, knowing I put them there, and that stuff stays on like, forever, if you don't wash it off, that was a kick. Like the tattoos, but not nearly as expensive, you don't need another person, and you can get places you don't want a tattoo gun going anywhere near. That was a lot of fun."
"Huh. So you're saying you had a two person rainbow party?"
"I guess. You ever wonder if stuff like that is real? Or just urban legends. I mean, the girls I knew in high school and junior high weren't doing stuff like that."
"Let's put it this way: when I was seventeen I would have given my right nut for it to be real. Now, with a year-old little girl, I'm hoping it's an urban legend."
Tim laughed a little at that. "You and Gibbs looked ready to kill Tony."
"I love Tony, but… There was just this sense of rage. And there's nothing he can do about it. And I know it was the '80s and the rules were different, but, yeah, I wanted to hit him, really hard. She's going to grow up and there'll be guys out there who'll be aggressive jerks, and it's scary."
Tim nodded.
"It was probably easier when Gibbs was a dad. You could just take a stand: No sex until you get married! Go put that caftan on and enjoy your education at St. Mary's All Girl School for Extremely Catholic Virgins!" Jimmy stopped and thought about that. "I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to be Fornell. I see the way he watches Emily and how his blood pressure goes shooting up every time it looks like she's getting interested in a guy or sex. I want Molly to have boyfriends and to enjoy them. I just don't want her to get hurt. I don't want her to get sick. I really don't want to be a grandfather any time in the next two decades, and three would be even better. I want her to know about what her mother chose, and why it was a good thing, but I also want her to know about Abby and Ziva and… I want her to own her body, own her sexuality, and I'm so scared some asshole's gonna try and take it away from her or hurt her for making her own decisions."
Tim sighed. "There's nothing you can do about that, not now. But, the good thing is you probably don't have to worry about it for at least a decade. And by then, we'll have our own Fear of Dad razor sharp."
"I hope so. But we'll only be able to scare the ones we know about. We won't always be around."
"Nope. But unlike Fornell, and I'm going to guess a lot of the girls Tony was fooling around with, we are going to be there every day, every night, showing our girls by how we live how a man who loves a woman treats her. Our girls are going to know what respect looks like because we'll live it. And our girls aren't going to be acting out, craving Daddy's attention, because they'll have it."
He can hear a slight rustle from Jimmy's bed, and assumed that was him shrugging.
"And I'll wire them with GPS trackers so we can swoop in and save the day if need be."
That got a laugh out of Jimmy. "Good night, Tim."
"Night."
Next
