Keryl Raist's Blog, page 24
August 19, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 179
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 179: The Dive
Two quarters of a game to cool down, get their minds off of Tony's past, and relax back into the idea that this is supposed to be fun, and that there's nothing he can do about the man he used to be was a good thing.And it was a good game. The Buckeyes were evenly matched with UNC, so the game stayed close the whole time, keeping the four of them interested.
And when Ohio State won it with a three pointer that whispered through the hoop less than half a second before the buzzer, they were all shouting (Tony jumping up and down) with excitement.
Late night drinks and barbecue went very well with basketball.
Honestly, it looked like a dive. It's the dive-y-ist dive Tim's ever seen. A ramshackle, beat the hell up, the only reason the health inspector hasn't closed it down is they spend more money bribing him then they do on décor shack of a place. He's honestly nervous about bringing them here, let alone eating anything.
But it also came up over and over again on the list of barbecue joints you absolutely had to go to if you were anywhere near Chapel Hill.
And it smells like absolute heaven.
And they are men, engaging in a sacred male ritual, and sacred male rituals need meat that has been cooked over fire.
And since Tony is convinced that barbecue is hot dogs and burgers on the grill, Tim is considering it his duty, as both his friend and best man, to make sure he gets introduced to the joy that is spice rubbed slow cooked pork.
So it's late. They're in a dive. But the beer is cold and delicious, and the pulled pork and ribs are come-in-your-pants good. Tim loves food. He really does. But this is the first time he's ever honestly considered food to be almost orgasmic experience, and he's also very glad that this place is eight hours from home, because otherwise he'd be 210 again in about six weeks.
Tony is sucking the rib bones it's so good. (He'd tried to follow the rules. He started with the chicken, and that was awfully tasty, but he saw Gibbs' ribs and decided that God would probably forgive him some decadence for his bachelor party. Especially since there were no strippers involved.)
Gibbs, who usually isn't a big eater, has ordered seconds and thirds.
And it's not that Jimmy can't eat sugar, it's just that he has to adjust his insulin levels to do so, and thus usually avoids sugar so he doesn't have to inject himself. But he was happily gnawing away, telling them that this was totally worth the shot.
And, as in the past, when a certain amount of beer has been consumed and the girls aren't around, the conversation turned to sex.
Tony's looking at Gibbs and finally says, "So… not until your wedding? Really? Just, twenty years, seems like a really long time."
Gibbs just shrugs. He was eighteen when he met Shannon, and while it's true he was ambivalent on the yes sex or no sex before marriage issue (He's Christian and his church had been pretty clear about the only with your wife thing, but he was also eighteen, so having sex was something he was deeply interested in.) Shannon wasn't, and once he met her, the idea of doing it with someone else just made him sad.
They wait another beat, but Gibbs doesn't say anything, just eats more of his rib.
Then Jimmy elbows Tony and says, "You can't miss what you've never had. You want to talk about a long time, Breena made me wait until we got married. So, at thirty-two, long after I had thought I was done with terminal blue balls, I was back to being bestest friends with my right hand. That was hard."
"I think you mean you were hard," Tim says.
"That, too." Jimmy smirks and takes a drink. "Anyway, waiting until you get married when you get married before you're even old enough to drink, please."
"Drinking age was eighteen then."
Jimmy flashes Gibbs a you're missing the point look. "Great. Still, no sex to lots of sex, easy. Somewhat regular sex, start dating the hottest, most desirable woman on earth, and knowing exactly how good it's going to be and what you're missing, and because she's evil, making out with her on a regular basis but not having sex, that's har—difficult."
Tony's laughing at that. "I didn't think she was that religious."
"She was deeply religious, but that wasn't why she made us wait. Our first date she said to me, 'I've known a lot of guys over the years, and one thing I've noticed about all of you is that you're pretty possessive and you like to know that when something is yours it's really yours.' So I nodded at that, because, well, yeah, that's true. So she says, 'Look, I love guys. I love the way they feel and smell and look and touch me. I love kissing and making out and rubbing up against them, but I'm a virgin. I'm not having sex with any guy until I get married. That's my wedding present to my future husband. He'll know, absolutely, that I'm his and only his. And when that ring's on my finger I'm going to absolutely rock his world.' And she just smiled at me, and wrapped her lips around the straw in her drink, took a sip and finished up with, 'If that's not something you respect, well, this was fun. If it's something you do, then I'd like to see you again.'"
"What did you say to that?" Tim asks, smiling.
"You mean once some of the blood got back to my brain and I could form words?"
Tim nods.
"Marry me."
All three of them laugh at that.
"Then she said, 'How about we go on a second date first?' And we did, and it was the longest most sexually frustrated two years of my life. And then because God hates me, Dearing blew up NCIS on my wedding day, and since I'm a decent guy who wanted her to have a good time, too, we waited another week, until I was able to crawl out from under the mile-high stack of paperwork I had to deal with, get enough sleep so I could keep going for more than two minutes, and take the time to do it right."
"It was worth it," Gibbs says, sharing a look with Jimmy, one that understands what waiting for something you desire above everything else and then finally getting it is like.
"Oh yeah." He grins and shakes his head in wonder. "And, yeah, there's a real kick to knowing she's only been with me. It's stupid, because we aren't supposed to feel that way, but… I do. I'm the only guy who's gotten to see her naked. Only one who's ever enjoyed her body. And she was dead right, that was one hell of a wedding present."
Gibbs nods at that, too, agreeing. "It was expected when we got married. You'd be her one and only. And yeah, maybe you fooled around before you got married, but she didn't, or if she did, it was with you. And you didn't feel bad about liking it. Didn't feel like there was something wrong with you if you got a kick out of letting her learn what to do with a guy on you. Didn't feel like it was wrong to say she was yours. Bunch of guys were jerks about it, and that wrecked it for the rest of us, but we all feel it. Hell," he tips his head at Tim and Tony, "those two feel it, even if it's not quite the same."
Tim nods along with that, swallowing his beer and putting the glass down. "Certainly got a kick out of everything I've done with her that no other guy has."
"What have you done with Abby that no other guy has?" Tony asks, rib paused midway to his mouth. Sure, he knows that Tim's not vanilla about sex, but he's also fairly sure that if Tim's ever imagined it, then Abby's done it.
Tim smiles wide and fairly dirty. "Got her pregnant among other things, and 'other things' is all you get to know about that."
Tony, Jimmy, and Gibbs laugh.
"And there's definitely a thrill to everything I've done with her and no one else. It works both ways."
Gibbs smiles at that, eyes the waitress, looking like he might be thinking about fourths, but decides against it. "Yeah, it does."
LinkJimmy's phone buzzes. He reaches for it, taps the screen, and smiles. "Speaking of the girls who make our lives worthwhile. Breena just sent me these." He turned the screen so they could all see. The first shot was Abby and Ziva, looking like they were taking a break from dancing. The next was Breena with Ziva, putting a little sparkly tiara on her head. There was a dim, grainy shot of all three of them dancing together.
Tim's looking at them, and says, "So it looks like a good time and minor hearing damage has been had by all."
"Yes."
"So, they home, or just taking a break?" Tony asks.
Jimmy flashes a quick text to Breena and thirty seconds later says, "Home. The pregnant matron of honor needed some sleep."
Tim checks his watch; it's 12:48. "She's going to be pissed about that. She hates how tired she is these days."
Tony notices that their waitress is sort of glaring at them. "I think we're overstaying our welcome."
So they settled up and headed to their hotel.
Next
Chapter 179: The Dive
Two quarters of a game to cool down, get their minds off of Tony's past, and relax back into the idea that this is supposed to be fun, and that there's nothing he can do about the man he used to be was a good thing.And it was a good game. The Buckeyes were evenly matched with UNC, so the game stayed close the whole time, keeping the four of them interested.
And when Ohio State won it with a three pointer that whispered through the hoop less than half a second before the buzzer, they were all shouting (Tony jumping up and down) with excitement.
Late night drinks and barbecue went very well with basketball.
Honestly, it looked like a dive. It's the dive-y-ist dive Tim's ever seen. A ramshackle, beat the hell up, the only reason the health inspector hasn't closed it down is they spend more money bribing him then they do on décor shack of a place. He's honestly nervous about bringing them here, let alone eating anything.
But it also came up over and over again on the list of barbecue joints you absolutely had to go to if you were anywhere near Chapel Hill.
And it smells like absolute heaven.
And they are men, engaging in a sacred male ritual, and sacred male rituals need meat that has been cooked over fire.
And since Tony is convinced that barbecue is hot dogs and burgers on the grill, Tim is considering it his duty, as both his friend and best man, to make sure he gets introduced to the joy that is spice rubbed slow cooked pork.
So it's late. They're in a dive. But the beer is cold and delicious, and the pulled pork and ribs are come-in-your-pants good. Tim loves food. He really does. But this is the first time he's ever honestly considered food to be almost orgasmic experience, and he's also very glad that this place is eight hours from home, because otherwise he'd be 210 again in about six weeks.
Tony is sucking the rib bones it's so good. (He'd tried to follow the rules. He started with the chicken, and that was awfully tasty, but he saw Gibbs' ribs and decided that God would probably forgive him some decadence for his bachelor party. Especially since there were no strippers involved.)
Gibbs, who usually isn't a big eater, has ordered seconds and thirds.
And it's not that Jimmy can't eat sugar, it's just that he has to adjust his insulin levels to do so, and thus usually avoids sugar so he doesn't have to inject himself. But he was happily gnawing away, telling them that this was totally worth the shot.
And, as in the past, when a certain amount of beer has been consumed and the girls aren't around, the conversation turned to sex.
Tony's looking at Gibbs and finally says, "So… not until your wedding? Really? Just, twenty years, seems like a really long time."
Gibbs just shrugs. He was eighteen when he met Shannon, and while it's true he was ambivalent on the yes sex or no sex before marriage issue (He's Christian and his church had been pretty clear about the only with your wife thing, but he was also eighteen, so having sex was something he was deeply interested in.) Shannon wasn't, and once he met her, the idea of doing it with someone else just made him sad.
They wait another beat, but Gibbs doesn't say anything, just eats more of his rib.
Then Jimmy elbows Tony and says, "You can't miss what you've never had. You want to talk about a long time, Breena made me wait until we got married. So, at thirty-two, long after I had thought I was done with terminal blue balls, I was back to being bestest friends with my right hand. That was hard."
"I think you mean you were hard," Tim says.
"That, too." Jimmy smirks and takes a drink. "Anyway, waiting until you get married when you get married before you're even old enough to drink, please."
"Drinking age was eighteen then."
Jimmy flashes Gibbs a you're missing the point look. "Great. Still, no sex to lots of sex, easy. Somewhat regular sex, start dating the hottest, most desirable woman on earth, and knowing exactly how good it's going to be and what you're missing, and because she's evil, making out with her on a regular basis but not having sex, that's har—difficult."
Tony's laughing at that. "I didn't think she was that religious."
"She was deeply religious, but that wasn't why she made us wait. Our first date she said to me, 'I've known a lot of guys over the years, and one thing I've noticed about all of you is that you're pretty possessive and you like to know that when something is yours it's really yours.' So I nodded at that, because, well, yeah, that's true. So she says, 'Look, I love guys. I love the way they feel and smell and look and touch me. I love kissing and making out and rubbing up against them, but I'm a virgin. I'm not having sex with any guy until I get married. That's my wedding present to my future husband. He'll know, absolutely, that I'm his and only his. And when that ring's on my finger I'm going to absolutely rock his world.' And she just smiled at me, and wrapped her lips around the straw in her drink, took a sip and finished up with, 'If that's not something you respect, well, this was fun. If it's something you do, then I'd like to see you again.'"
"What did you say to that?" Tim asks, smiling.
"You mean once some of the blood got back to my brain and I could form words?"
Tim nods.
"Marry me."
All three of them laugh at that.
"Then she said, 'How about we go on a second date first?' And we did, and it was the longest most sexually frustrated two years of my life. And then because God hates me, Dearing blew up NCIS on my wedding day, and since I'm a decent guy who wanted her to have a good time, too, we waited another week, until I was able to crawl out from under the mile-high stack of paperwork I had to deal with, get enough sleep so I could keep going for more than two minutes, and take the time to do it right."
"It was worth it," Gibbs says, sharing a look with Jimmy, one that understands what waiting for something you desire above everything else and then finally getting it is like.
"Oh yeah." He grins and shakes his head in wonder. "And, yeah, there's a real kick to knowing she's only been with me. It's stupid, because we aren't supposed to feel that way, but… I do. I'm the only guy who's gotten to see her naked. Only one who's ever enjoyed her body. And she was dead right, that was one hell of a wedding present."
Gibbs nods at that, too, agreeing. "It was expected when we got married. You'd be her one and only. And yeah, maybe you fooled around before you got married, but she didn't, or if she did, it was with you. And you didn't feel bad about liking it. Didn't feel like there was something wrong with you if you got a kick out of letting her learn what to do with a guy on you. Didn't feel like it was wrong to say she was yours. Bunch of guys were jerks about it, and that wrecked it for the rest of us, but we all feel it. Hell," he tips his head at Tim and Tony, "those two feel it, even if it's not quite the same."
Tim nods along with that, swallowing his beer and putting the glass down. "Certainly got a kick out of everything I've done with her that no other guy has."
"What have you done with Abby that no other guy has?" Tony asks, rib paused midway to his mouth. Sure, he knows that Tim's not vanilla about sex, but he's also fairly sure that if Tim's ever imagined it, then Abby's done it.
Tim smiles wide and fairly dirty. "Got her pregnant among other things, and 'other things' is all you get to know about that."
Tony, Jimmy, and Gibbs laugh.
"And there's definitely a thrill to everything I've done with her and no one else. It works both ways."
Gibbs smiles at that, eyes the waitress, looking like he might be thinking about fourths, but decides against it. "Yeah, it does."
LinkJimmy's phone buzzes. He reaches for it, taps the screen, and smiles. "Speaking of the girls who make our lives worthwhile. Breena just sent me these." He turned the screen so they could all see. The first shot was Abby and Ziva, looking like they were taking a break from dancing. The next was Breena with Ziva, putting a little sparkly tiara on her head. There was a dim, grainy shot of all three of them dancing together.Tim's looking at them, and says, "So it looks like a good time and minor hearing damage has been had by all."
"Yes."
"So, they home, or just taking a break?" Tony asks.
Jimmy flashes a quick text to Breena and thirty seconds later says, "Home. The pregnant matron of honor needed some sleep."
Tim checks his watch; it's 12:48. "She's going to be pissed about that. She hates how tired she is these days."
Tony notices that their waitress is sort of glaring at them. "I think we're overstaying our welcome."
So they settled up and headed to their hotel.
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 178
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 178: Gear Up
"McGee, DiNozzo, gear up. Dead Marine out of Chapel Hill," Gibbs says as he puts his phone down.
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks, perfect inflection of why aren't you bringing me along in her voice.
"Gonna be at least overnight, and I need someone here to keep an eye on things."
Tim glances over and sees Tony grabbing his go bag looking mildly pouty. He's been talking all day and all yesterday about how Ohio State is playing tonight and he can't wait to see it. Stuck in a crappy motel room dealing with a murder is not the way he wants to see that game.
When it hits him that Ziva's not coming, mildly pouty switched to downright unhappy.
"Boss," Tim says, hoping he sounds convincingly whiny. Ziva had gotten her part right, he's got to do his.
"One night alone won't kill her, Tim. Ziva's here, and so is Palmer. She'll be fine."
"But…"
"Head down, say goodbye, and we'll meet you at the van."
He glares a little at Gibbs before grabbing his go bag and heading down to the lab.
Abby sees him and bursts into a huge grin. "Does Tony have any idea?"
"None." The smile that's been trying to break out since Gibbs' phone rang (Palmer calling to let him know he was on the road.) spreads across his face. "We pulled it off perfectly. Utterly clueless. He's silently pouting about missing the game and sleeping alone." He steps in close and kisses her. "Are you going to be okay on your own?"
"Are you kidding? Ziva, Breena, and I have a fabulous night planned. It's going to be an absolute blast. There's a new gay club out on 10th and we are going to dance until our feet won't hold us up anymore. You guys go, have fun. See you tomorrow."
He kisses her again, slow and deep. "Tomorrow."
They were driving past UNC's stadium. Tony eyeing it longingly as Gibbs drove. "This is so wrong. I'm supposed to be at home, with Ziva, watching this game in high def on a sixty inch screen. Cold beer in one hand, Ohio State t-shirt on, cheering my guys to victory. Of all the bad times to get murdered. Where is this guy supposed to be?"
"Tony, check your go bag."
"McGee?" He stopped gazing at the stadium and flashed Tim his annoyed and confused look.
"Just do it."
Tony did, and his eyebrows drew together. He always keeps a change of clothing in there, they all do, that's the point of a go bag, but his has… "My Ohio State shirt?"
"See an envelope in there?" Tim asks as Gibbs pulls into the UNC stadium parking lot.
Tony dug around for a minute longer, and Tim started to get a little nervous, getting everything packed was Ziva's job, and he didn't get a chance to double check and make sure everything was in there the way it was supposed to be.
But Tony came up with it after a minute and looked inside.
For another minute, as Gibbs parked, Tony just stared at the tickets, eyes wide and disbelieving. Finally he looked up at them and said, "Four court side seats?"
"Jimmy's waiting for us at the gate." Tim smirked at him. "Still think you don't want Jimmy or I planning your bachelor party?"
Tony looked back down at the tickets in his hand. When Ohio State made it to the final eight and got slotted into the UNC stadium, he had tried to get tickets, and they were completely sold out. "How did you get tickets to this?"
"Remember, I've got that cousin, and he knew a guy, and… I don't pay attention to basketball, but Jimmy noticed Ohio State made March Madness this year, so we put this plan into action."
Tony turned to Gibbs. "You knew?"
His expression said, of course. "You didn't think they'd take you out to a strip club and buy you lap dances, did you?"
"Well, no. That's why I didn't want them planning this."
"You'd rather be watching strippers?" Tim asked. He'd been hoping Tony'd like this.
That jerked Tony out of his shock. "No. I mean, this is beyond awesome." And Tim can see that's genuine. He just hadn't been expecting anything even remotely like this and it was taking him a minute to get his head out of pouting mode into celebrate mode. "I just… Jimmy came up with this?"
"Yeah, so let's get him so you can say thanks, and then watch this thing."
"McGee, do you even know enough about basketball to follow a game?" And that sounded a whole lot more like normal Tony.
"It's soccer with hoops. I'll do okay."
Link"Soccer with hoops?" Tony looked appalled and launched into a detailed exposition on the finer arts of basketball while stripping out of his work clothing into his fan clothing. He had half-noticed that Tim and Gibbs had both been a little more casual than usual for work clothing today, but not so much so that it was worth mentioning.
They found Jimmy a few minutes later, looking fairly relaxed, tucking his cell back into his pocket.
Tony smiled at him and said, "Tim tells me this was your idea?"
"Breena's really."
Tony nodded in appreciation of Breena. "You have the coolest wife ever."
"I agree."
"McGeek thinks this is soccer with hoops. Do you need a primer on basketball, too?"
Jimmy looked at Tim like he's a twit. "Soccer with hoops?"
Tim shrugged. "Eleven guys, start in the middle, run to the end, get the ball into the target, don't tackle each other, don't pick the ball up and carry it. Soccer with hoops."
Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "Lord, someone messed up your education. I played in junior high. I wasn't good or anything, but I at least know it's not soccer."
"Good." Tony said with a very wide and happy grin.
By conservative estimate there are nineteen million people in that stadium and they are all rabid UNC supporters. Home team at the home stadium and they are going bonkers.
To say they've gotten a few dirty looks, and some choice verbiage as they head to their seats due to Tony's shirt is an understatement.
But they are courtside, and luck had it they are on the Ohio State side of the court.
They get settled, comfortable, beer and dogs in hand, and are watching the pre-game show when the Ohio State Coach turns around to talk to one of the players and notices them.
"Tony DiNozzo?"
"Mark Ratham?"
Mark came forward and wrapped him in a back slapping hug. "What are you doing here, man?"
"Watching the game." He pulled back from Mark holding his shoulders. "Are you coaching?"
"Yeah, Bob Gilman got hit by a car last night, so I'm up."
Tony looked worried at that. Anything this close to a big game can mess with the cohesion of the team and that's a very bad thing. "Is the team going to be okay?"
"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine, so they'll be fine, but they want to keep him under 'observation' for twenty four hours. Those bastards at the hospital are UNC supporters."
"Oh." Tony nodded along. "Guy driving a UNC supporter, too?"
"Can't prove it, but I wouldn't doubt it. Look, game's starting in five, but if you want me to introduce you at halftime to the team, I'd be happy to."
"That'd be great."
Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs are all giving him the fill us in look.
"Mark was my roommate sophomore and junior year. Seniors got singles in our house, so we split up then, but… yeah… a lot of my better college memories involve him. Wow. Haven't seen him in... twenty years."
"Spring break in Mexico?" Tim asked.
"Yeah. He got married and stopped coming. He was assistant coach for… I don't remember, some little school in corn country. Looks like he's moved up in the world."
Tim's, of course, heard all about Tony's college exploits. Everyone has. He'll talk your ear off about them. Though Tim has noticed the focus on what Tony did in college has shifted over the years. When he first started NCIS, he heard a lot more about partying and girls, and these days he hears a lot more about basketball.
Actually, these days, he hasn't heard a whole lot about Ohio State, period. It's probably been four years since Tony's brought it up, though he'll mention it when they're talking college type stuff.
Still, there's hearing the stories, which, Tim had figured were about two-thirds bullshit, and then there's seeing the guys on the team stare at Tony like he's some sort of mythological figure stepping out of the book and shaking their hands.
Twenty college kids are looking at Tony like he's some sort of God. One they pray to regularly.And Tony is basking in it.
"Haven't seen you in forever, what are you doing these days?" Mark asks after introducing Tony around.
"Believe it or not, I'm a cop."
"You're a what?" Mark looks like he'd more readily believe Tony was a woman than a cop.
"Work for the Navy. I investigate crimes involving Navy or Marine personnel."
"You became a cop? Tony 'let me see how many laws I can break per night' DiNozzo became a cop?" Mark's laughing like this is the best joke ever.
"Not that many!" Tony's looking a little embarrassed.
"Dude, you didn't turn twenty-one until the end of your junior year, and good two-thirds of those girls were under eighteen." A little embarrassed had morphed to distinctly uncomfortable. Gibbs' eyes narrowed a little, and Jimmy crossed his arms. And Tim is suddenly understanding that there is a very big difference between having a daughter, and possibly having a daughter. Because while he definitely considers fooling around with underage girls a problem, he doesn't appear to be having the same sort of visceral reaction Gibbs and Jimmy are.
"So who are your buddies?" Mark asks, finally noticing there are three other guys here and two of them don't look even remotely happy about him.
Tim grinned. But there's no warmth there, and anyone who knows him knows that's not a friendly gesture, and he's kind of hoping Mark takes the hint to pull back after this. "Two more cops," he gestured at himself and Gibbs. "A medical examiner." Pointed to Jimmy. "And, oh" here he pointed back at Gibbs. "His father-in-law."
"You're married? You gonna tell me you've got the house, the dog, and the white picket fence next?"
"Not that far along yet, it's my bachelor party. Last I heard, you were married, too."
"Married didn't work out. At all. And, not that we aren't happy to see you here, but this is a lame-ass bachelor party. Hell, bachelor party is the best part of getting married. A bachelor party is the reason to get married! I was still drunk at the reception from mine… and the girls!"
Tim was deciding that Mark was the kind of guy he hated in high school, and fortunately didn't see much of in college. Tim can also see Tony's trying to figure out how to get out of this. There's only a few minutes more of halftime, and then they can get back to watching the game, hopefully without this clod hanging onto them.
"I'm having a great time."
"Oh." There's pity on Mark's face, and he's got a very clear expression of you're so whipped. "You want to come with us after the game? Turn this into a real bachelor party? There'll be pretty little girls begging for attention and booze galore. And I'm sure the boys would love to see you in action."
"Not my thing anymore." Tony flashed his patented DiNozzo charm smile and had stepped back from Mark.
Mark said, "Come on man, your pic, the one with the six girls and the beer bong, is still up on the wall of fame at our frat house." Mark turned toward the Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs. "This here is the only man who made the wall of fame every single semester he was at Ohio State. There's still a little shrine to him at the Alpha Chi Delta frat house. So, come on, relive the glory days with the team? You're a hero, well, a myth, to these kids."
Tony sighed. "Mark, you see these three guys? They love my fiancée, almost as much as I do, and if I fool around on her, they will kill me and lose my body somewhere between here and home."
Tim and Jimmy are nodding and Gibbs is just coolly staring at Mark, very clearly signaling Get the hell out of here before I arrest you for statutory rape, and probably shoot you for resisting arrest along the way.
"Two-thirds of them under eighteen?" Gibbs asks Tony quietly, as Mark backs away from that stare and returns to his team.
The look on Gibbs' face is terrifying, so Tony answers honestly, "Yeah." Jimmy looks ready to hit Tony, too. "It was the '80s. We lived in a party frat. Girls are what make the party fun. ID checks were shaky at best back then, and we were famous for never, ever doing it. As long as you were cute enough that the guy at the door liked you, you got in. And Bob never saw a girl he didn't like. And we were all drunk, too. And when you're nineteen the idea that fourteen or fifteen is too young is silly because you still remember being fourteen and all you wanted to do then was get laid, and she's there, rubbing up against you, kissing you, tight and tiny little skirt, low cut top, clearly she knew what she was doing, so why not make some sweet young thing's night?"
Gibbs looks at Jimmy and Tim, letting them know they were about to see a practical application of instilling the Fear of Dad in someone, and then says, "You're gonna have girls. And so are they. Daughters and nieces, and they will be the light of your life, and you will love them more than you can even imagine, and assholes like the guy you used to be are going to be chasing after them. I hope you get an ulcer from worrying about them for each and every single one of those little girls you fucked!"
Tim's heard Gibbs swear before, he's fairly sure Tony has, too, but not sure about Jimmy. But, it's one thing to say fuck and mean I am irritated by the current set of circumstances and want something to express that and a whole other thing to say it and mean I am thirty seconds away from smacking the living hell out of you and the only reason I don't is because I know the man you are is not the man you use to be but so help me God if it ever looks like you are going to revert back to that guy I will kick your ass so hard you will limp for the rest of your very short life.
And Tim is deeply, sincerely, fervently glad that he's never had Gibbs that pissed at him, and that he's never done anything that will ever get Gibbs that pissed at him.
Tony looks really disturbed and tries to laugh that off. "Come on, you were a Marine, you must have—"
"Stayed a virgin until my wedding night, when we were both twenty? Yeah, I did. And those two weren't fucking any little girls, either."
Tony's a little irked by that. He's fairly certain Tim or Jimmy would have happily slept with a fifteen or sixteen-year-old when they were nineteen if there had been one available. "Those two weren't fucking anyone period."
"Hey! I had a steady girlfriend junior and senior year of high school, and two more in college," Jimmy says. Tim cringes at that, now really wasn't a good time for Jimmy to forget his mental filter.
"Your high school sweetie, was she twelve?" Gibbs asks, eyes on Tony, very intense expression of pissed off not wavering. He's not looking at Jimmy at all.
"What? No!" Jimmy's utterly horrified by that idea.
"You love her?"
"Yeah."
"You go to her house, look her dad in the eye when you talked to him, and treat his daughter with respect?"
"Yes."
He glanced at Jimmy for a second, face relaxing a little. "Then we don't have a problem." Then he turned back to Tony, eyes hot and angry. "You do any of those things, Tony?"
"No."
"You get their names?"
"Some of them."
Gibbs looks disgusted as he says, "You at least make sure they had a good time?"
"Too drunk and too full of myself to ever think they might need more than me just being there."
Gibbs eyes narrowed even further, and Tim can see the muscles in his jaws clenching. "You treated them like blow up dolls and jerked off in them, probably hurt at least a few of them doing it."
Tony nods.
"Get 'em sick?"
"Some of them gave me gonorrhea, crabs, and the clap, and, yeah, I passed them on as well."
"Get 'em pregnant?"
"No one ever showed up with a kid that looked like me, but I know for a fact that I'm not shooting blanks, so I can't believe that I didn't get at least a few of them pregnant."
"Did they say yes?" Gibbs' voice is very low, very dangerous when he says this, and Tim is really hoping that if the truth to that is no, that Tony has the good sense to lie and lie more convincingly than he's ever lied before.
"None of them was ever unconscious or said no. But a lot of them were very drunk."
"Barely walk on their own, don't remember anything in the morning drunk?"
"Yeah."
"So yes, that's a problem."
"I know." And Tim thinks he really does, thinks that's why there haven't been any tales of the DiNozzo Party Machine in years.
"Good! And if need be, we are beating the idea that this is a problem with a two by four into any sons you, or they, may have."
"Yes, sir."
Gibbs looked satisfied that he had properly instilled the Fear of Dad into Tony and nodded. Then sat down in his seat, and looked in the direction of the now wrapping up half-time show.
A/N: So, no this chapter wasn't just a let's hate on Tony fest. I did want to do something to showcase exactly how far he's come from the DiNozzo Party Machine days. The man who was still going to Spring Break in Mexico at the age of thirty-five, land of the very-drunk and possibly underage girls is dead, and someone a whole lot better has replaced him. I wanted to take a second and look at the path he didn't take, and who he could have ended up. And to some degree, I wanted to touch on how the next generation of DiNozzos are going to be different from the previous two.
Next
Chapter 178: Gear Up
"McGee, DiNozzo, gear up. Dead Marine out of Chapel Hill," Gibbs says as he puts his phone down.
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks, perfect inflection of why aren't you bringing me along in her voice.
"Gonna be at least overnight, and I need someone here to keep an eye on things."
Tim glances over and sees Tony grabbing his go bag looking mildly pouty. He's been talking all day and all yesterday about how Ohio State is playing tonight and he can't wait to see it. Stuck in a crappy motel room dealing with a murder is not the way he wants to see that game.
When it hits him that Ziva's not coming, mildly pouty switched to downright unhappy.
"Boss," Tim says, hoping he sounds convincingly whiny. Ziva had gotten her part right, he's got to do his.
"One night alone won't kill her, Tim. Ziva's here, and so is Palmer. She'll be fine."
"But…"
"Head down, say goodbye, and we'll meet you at the van."
He glares a little at Gibbs before grabbing his go bag and heading down to the lab.
Abby sees him and bursts into a huge grin. "Does Tony have any idea?"
"None." The smile that's been trying to break out since Gibbs' phone rang (Palmer calling to let him know he was on the road.) spreads across his face. "We pulled it off perfectly. Utterly clueless. He's silently pouting about missing the game and sleeping alone." He steps in close and kisses her. "Are you going to be okay on your own?"
"Are you kidding? Ziva, Breena, and I have a fabulous night planned. It's going to be an absolute blast. There's a new gay club out on 10th and we are going to dance until our feet won't hold us up anymore. You guys go, have fun. See you tomorrow."
He kisses her again, slow and deep. "Tomorrow."
They were driving past UNC's stadium. Tony eyeing it longingly as Gibbs drove. "This is so wrong. I'm supposed to be at home, with Ziva, watching this game in high def on a sixty inch screen. Cold beer in one hand, Ohio State t-shirt on, cheering my guys to victory. Of all the bad times to get murdered. Where is this guy supposed to be?"
"Tony, check your go bag."
"McGee?" He stopped gazing at the stadium and flashed Tim his annoyed and confused look.
"Just do it."
Tony did, and his eyebrows drew together. He always keeps a change of clothing in there, they all do, that's the point of a go bag, but his has… "My Ohio State shirt?"
"See an envelope in there?" Tim asks as Gibbs pulls into the UNC stadium parking lot.
Tony dug around for a minute longer, and Tim started to get a little nervous, getting everything packed was Ziva's job, and he didn't get a chance to double check and make sure everything was in there the way it was supposed to be.
But Tony came up with it after a minute and looked inside.
For another minute, as Gibbs parked, Tony just stared at the tickets, eyes wide and disbelieving. Finally he looked up at them and said, "Four court side seats?"
"Jimmy's waiting for us at the gate." Tim smirked at him. "Still think you don't want Jimmy or I planning your bachelor party?"
Tony looked back down at the tickets in his hand. When Ohio State made it to the final eight and got slotted into the UNC stadium, he had tried to get tickets, and they were completely sold out. "How did you get tickets to this?"
"Remember, I've got that cousin, and he knew a guy, and… I don't pay attention to basketball, but Jimmy noticed Ohio State made March Madness this year, so we put this plan into action."
Tony turned to Gibbs. "You knew?"
His expression said, of course. "You didn't think they'd take you out to a strip club and buy you lap dances, did you?"
"Well, no. That's why I didn't want them planning this."
"You'd rather be watching strippers?" Tim asked. He'd been hoping Tony'd like this.
That jerked Tony out of his shock. "No. I mean, this is beyond awesome." And Tim can see that's genuine. He just hadn't been expecting anything even remotely like this and it was taking him a minute to get his head out of pouting mode into celebrate mode. "I just… Jimmy came up with this?"
"Yeah, so let's get him so you can say thanks, and then watch this thing."
"McGee, do you even know enough about basketball to follow a game?" And that sounded a whole lot more like normal Tony.
"It's soccer with hoops. I'll do okay."
Link"Soccer with hoops?" Tony looked appalled and launched into a detailed exposition on the finer arts of basketball while stripping out of his work clothing into his fan clothing. He had half-noticed that Tim and Gibbs had both been a little more casual than usual for work clothing today, but not so much so that it was worth mentioning.They found Jimmy a few minutes later, looking fairly relaxed, tucking his cell back into his pocket.
Tony smiled at him and said, "Tim tells me this was your idea?"
"Breena's really."
Tony nodded in appreciation of Breena. "You have the coolest wife ever."
"I agree."
"McGeek thinks this is soccer with hoops. Do you need a primer on basketball, too?"
Jimmy looked at Tim like he's a twit. "Soccer with hoops?"
Tim shrugged. "Eleven guys, start in the middle, run to the end, get the ball into the target, don't tackle each other, don't pick the ball up and carry it. Soccer with hoops."
Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "Lord, someone messed up your education. I played in junior high. I wasn't good or anything, but I at least know it's not soccer."
"Good." Tony said with a very wide and happy grin.
By conservative estimate there are nineteen million people in that stadium and they are all rabid UNC supporters. Home team at the home stadium and they are going bonkers.
To say they've gotten a few dirty looks, and some choice verbiage as they head to their seats due to Tony's shirt is an understatement.
But they are courtside, and luck had it they are on the Ohio State side of the court.
They get settled, comfortable, beer and dogs in hand, and are watching the pre-game show when the Ohio State Coach turns around to talk to one of the players and notices them.
"Tony DiNozzo?"
"Mark Ratham?"
Mark came forward and wrapped him in a back slapping hug. "What are you doing here, man?"
"Watching the game." He pulled back from Mark holding his shoulders. "Are you coaching?"
"Yeah, Bob Gilman got hit by a car last night, so I'm up."
Tony looked worried at that. Anything this close to a big game can mess with the cohesion of the team and that's a very bad thing. "Is the team going to be okay?"
"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine, so they'll be fine, but they want to keep him under 'observation' for twenty four hours. Those bastards at the hospital are UNC supporters."
"Oh." Tony nodded along. "Guy driving a UNC supporter, too?"
"Can't prove it, but I wouldn't doubt it. Look, game's starting in five, but if you want me to introduce you at halftime to the team, I'd be happy to."
"That'd be great."
Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs are all giving him the fill us in look.
"Mark was my roommate sophomore and junior year. Seniors got singles in our house, so we split up then, but… yeah… a lot of my better college memories involve him. Wow. Haven't seen him in... twenty years."
"Spring break in Mexico?" Tim asked.
"Yeah. He got married and stopped coming. He was assistant coach for… I don't remember, some little school in corn country. Looks like he's moved up in the world."
Tim's, of course, heard all about Tony's college exploits. Everyone has. He'll talk your ear off about them. Though Tim has noticed the focus on what Tony did in college has shifted over the years. When he first started NCIS, he heard a lot more about partying and girls, and these days he hears a lot more about basketball.
Actually, these days, he hasn't heard a whole lot about Ohio State, period. It's probably been four years since Tony's brought it up, though he'll mention it when they're talking college type stuff.
Still, there's hearing the stories, which, Tim had figured were about two-thirds bullshit, and then there's seeing the guys on the team stare at Tony like he's some sort of mythological figure stepping out of the book and shaking their hands.
Twenty college kids are looking at Tony like he's some sort of God. One they pray to regularly.And Tony is basking in it.
"Haven't seen you in forever, what are you doing these days?" Mark asks after introducing Tony around.
"Believe it or not, I'm a cop."
"You're a what?" Mark looks like he'd more readily believe Tony was a woman than a cop.
"Work for the Navy. I investigate crimes involving Navy or Marine personnel."
"You became a cop? Tony 'let me see how many laws I can break per night' DiNozzo became a cop?" Mark's laughing like this is the best joke ever.
"Not that many!" Tony's looking a little embarrassed.
"Dude, you didn't turn twenty-one until the end of your junior year, and good two-thirds of those girls were under eighteen." A little embarrassed had morphed to distinctly uncomfortable. Gibbs' eyes narrowed a little, and Jimmy crossed his arms. And Tim is suddenly understanding that there is a very big difference between having a daughter, and possibly having a daughter. Because while he definitely considers fooling around with underage girls a problem, he doesn't appear to be having the same sort of visceral reaction Gibbs and Jimmy are.
"So who are your buddies?" Mark asks, finally noticing there are three other guys here and two of them don't look even remotely happy about him.
Tim grinned. But there's no warmth there, and anyone who knows him knows that's not a friendly gesture, and he's kind of hoping Mark takes the hint to pull back after this. "Two more cops," he gestured at himself and Gibbs. "A medical examiner." Pointed to Jimmy. "And, oh" here he pointed back at Gibbs. "His father-in-law."
"You're married? You gonna tell me you've got the house, the dog, and the white picket fence next?"
"Not that far along yet, it's my bachelor party. Last I heard, you were married, too."
"Married didn't work out. At all. And, not that we aren't happy to see you here, but this is a lame-ass bachelor party. Hell, bachelor party is the best part of getting married. A bachelor party is the reason to get married! I was still drunk at the reception from mine… and the girls!"
Tim was deciding that Mark was the kind of guy he hated in high school, and fortunately didn't see much of in college. Tim can also see Tony's trying to figure out how to get out of this. There's only a few minutes more of halftime, and then they can get back to watching the game, hopefully without this clod hanging onto them.
"I'm having a great time."
"Oh." There's pity on Mark's face, and he's got a very clear expression of you're so whipped. "You want to come with us after the game? Turn this into a real bachelor party? There'll be pretty little girls begging for attention and booze galore. And I'm sure the boys would love to see you in action."
"Not my thing anymore." Tony flashed his patented DiNozzo charm smile and had stepped back from Mark.
Mark said, "Come on man, your pic, the one with the six girls and the beer bong, is still up on the wall of fame at our frat house." Mark turned toward the Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs. "This here is the only man who made the wall of fame every single semester he was at Ohio State. There's still a little shrine to him at the Alpha Chi Delta frat house. So, come on, relive the glory days with the team? You're a hero, well, a myth, to these kids."
Tony sighed. "Mark, you see these three guys? They love my fiancée, almost as much as I do, and if I fool around on her, they will kill me and lose my body somewhere between here and home."
Tim and Jimmy are nodding and Gibbs is just coolly staring at Mark, very clearly signaling Get the hell out of here before I arrest you for statutory rape, and probably shoot you for resisting arrest along the way.
"Two-thirds of them under eighteen?" Gibbs asks Tony quietly, as Mark backs away from that stare and returns to his team.
The look on Gibbs' face is terrifying, so Tony answers honestly, "Yeah." Jimmy looks ready to hit Tony, too. "It was the '80s. We lived in a party frat. Girls are what make the party fun. ID checks were shaky at best back then, and we were famous for never, ever doing it. As long as you were cute enough that the guy at the door liked you, you got in. And Bob never saw a girl he didn't like. And we were all drunk, too. And when you're nineteen the idea that fourteen or fifteen is too young is silly because you still remember being fourteen and all you wanted to do then was get laid, and she's there, rubbing up against you, kissing you, tight and tiny little skirt, low cut top, clearly she knew what she was doing, so why not make some sweet young thing's night?"
Gibbs looks at Jimmy and Tim, letting them know they were about to see a practical application of instilling the Fear of Dad in someone, and then says, "You're gonna have girls. And so are they. Daughters and nieces, and they will be the light of your life, and you will love them more than you can even imagine, and assholes like the guy you used to be are going to be chasing after them. I hope you get an ulcer from worrying about them for each and every single one of those little girls you fucked!"
Tim's heard Gibbs swear before, he's fairly sure Tony has, too, but not sure about Jimmy. But, it's one thing to say fuck and mean I am irritated by the current set of circumstances and want something to express that and a whole other thing to say it and mean I am thirty seconds away from smacking the living hell out of you and the only reason I don't is because I know the man you are is not the man you use to be but so help me God if it ever looks like you are going to revert back to that guy I will kick your ass so hard you will limp for the rest of your very short life.
And Tim is deeply, sincerely, fervently glad that he's never had Gibbs that pissed at him, and that he's never done anything that will ever get Gibbs that pissed at him.
Tony looks really disturbed and tries to laugh that off. "Come on, you were a Marine, you must have—"
"Stayed a virgin until my wedding night, when we were both twenty? Yeah, I did. And those two weren't fucking any little girls, either."
Tony's a little irked by that. He's fairly certain Tim or Jimmy would have happily slept with a fifteen or sixteen-year-old when they were nineteen if there had been one available. "Those two weren't fucking anyone period."
"Hey! I had a steady girlfriend junior and senior year of high school, and two more in college," Jimmy says. Tim cringes at that, now really wasn't a good time for Jimmy to forget his mental filter.
"Your high school sweetie, was she twelve?" Gibbs asks, eyes on Tony, very intense expression of pissed off not wavering. He's not looking at Jimmy at all.
"What? No!" Jimmy's utterly horrified by that idea.
"You love her?"
"Yeah."
"You go to her house, look her dad in the eye when you talked to him, and treat his daughter with respect?"
"Yes."
He glanced at Jimmy for a second, face relaxing a little. "Then we don't have a problem." Then he turned back to Tony, eyes hot and angry. "You do any of those things, Tony?"
"No."
"You get their names?"
"Some of them."
Gibbs looks disgusted as he says, "You at least make sure they had a good time?"
"Too drunk and too full of myself to ever think they might need more than me just being there."
Gibbs eyes narrowed even further, and Tim can see the muscles in his jaws clenching. "You treated them like blow up dolls and jerked off in them, probably hurt at least a few of them doing it."
Tony nods.
"Get 'em sick?"
"Some of them gave me gonorrhea, crabs, and the clap, and, yeah, I passed them on as well."
"Get 'em pregnant?"
"No one ever showed up with a kid that looked like me, but I know for a fact that I'm not shooting blanks, so I can't believe that I didn't get at least a few of them pregnant."
"Did they say yes?" Gibbs' voice is very low, very dangerous when he says this, and Tim is really hoping that if the truth to that is no, that Tony has the good sense to lie and lie more convincingly than he's ever lied before.
"None of them was ever unconscious or said no. But a lot of them were very drunk."
"Barely walk on their own, don't remember anything in the morning drunk?"
"Yeah."
"So yes, that's a problem."
"I know." And Tim thinks he really does, thinks that's why there haven't been any tales of the DiNozzo Party Machine in years.
"Good! And if need be, we are beating the idea that this is a problem with a two by four into any sons you, or they, may have."
"Yes, sir."
Gibbs looked satisfied that he had properly instilled the Fear of Dad into Tony and nodded. Then sat down in his seat, and looked in the direction of the now wrapping up half-time show.
A/N: So, no this chapter wasn't just a let's hate on Tony fest. I did want to do something to showcase exactly how far he's come from the DiNozzo Party Machine days. The man who was still going to Spring Break in Mexico at the age of thirty-five, land of the very-drunk and possibly underage girls is dead, and someone a whole lot better has replaced him. I wanted to take a second and look at the path he didn't take, and who he could have ended up. And to some degree, I wanted to touch on how the next generation of DiNozzos are going to be different from the previous two.
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 177
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 177: I, Anthony...
I, Anthony, take you, Ziva, to be my lawfully wedded wife.
Tim looked at the one line of text in Tony's handwriting on a pad of legal paper, and then looked back up at Tony. At his wedding, Tony had talked about the two of them working on his vows. And now, with Tony's wedding not quite three weeks away, they were getting to it.
Though as Tim remembers it, he'd specified that Tony should have a rough draft that they'd work with together, because he was not going to ghost write Tony's vows.
"One line?" He's glaring a little at Tony. Not really angry, but frustrated. "The idea was you'd have a rough draft, and we'd work from there."
"It's really rough."
"It's non-existent. This is the part the Rabbi will say for you, and you'll just repeat back!"
"Actually no. The vows are in Hebrew. But… I wanted to write something for her. Something personalized. They don't have to be vows but…"
Oh. So not vows at all. Something different. Something Tony's never done before and probably feels completely lost dealing with. "Are you saying you want help writing a love poem?"
"A vowish love poems."
"Wow!" Tim's got an expression of wonder on his face, possibly with a tinge of teasing condescension as well.
Tony catches all the layers of that look and says, "Stuff it. Since no one in her immediate family is still alive, a 'traditional' wedding is important to Ziva, and she'd never say it, but I can see it, it's that last thread of home and family for her. So I'm fine with doing the traditional Hebrew vows, but… I want to give her something from me, as well. And I don't want to sound like an idiot doing it. So, McPoet, I am asking you for help."
Tim smiles; he understands that completely.
"Hey, can I come in, or is this a guy only party?" Abby asks, sticking her head into Tim's office.
"Please come in," Tony replies. He's sitting on Tim's one desk chair, and Tim is in the other one, so she settles onto Tim's lap. And Tony watches as, apparently, without him even noticing, Tim's hand comes to rest on her belly, while he kisses her neck.
"Good nap?"
"Yeah. I just hate being tired all the time." She turns to Tony. "It's better than it was, but I still need eight to ten hours of sleep a night, and I've never needed that much sleep. It's insane."
"Your body is working hard," Tim says, fondly stroking her tummy.
"And making me sleep hard, too." She looks at the piece of paper in front of Tim and Tony. "So, working on vows?"
"Sort of," Tony answers and then explains what they're doing.
"You want to call Jimmy?" Abby asks.
Both Tim and Tony say "No" in exactly the same tone of voice at exactly the same time.
Abby looks puzzled by this.
"Look, I love Jimmy, but he's terrible at this stuff," Tim says.
Tony's nodding. "The man had his testicles surgically removed when he was writing his vows. 'And each day I will shower you in a thousand butterfly kisses and thank the Lord you were born.' No!"
"Breena loved it! And it was so sweet."
"And if I was getting ready to marry Breena, Jimmy'd be the first guy I'd call for vow help. But, I do not want Ziva bursting into hysterical laughter when she reads this."
Abby takes the pen and crosses out Tony's name. "She doesn't call you Anthony. Only Ducky does. Tony's more personal."
"Okay, see, we're getting somewhere. Is that why you two did Tim and Abby for your vows instead of Timothy and Abigail?"
Tony looks up from where Abby scratched out his name when he notices that neither of them have said anything. He sees the smile on Abby's face is wicked glee, and Tim's looking pretty smug, as well.
Finally Tim says, "Remember the last ropes and things conversations, when you asked me what other help you might want?"
Tony's nodding, looking really disturbed, but he says, "Yes."
"Why you'll never hear me call her Abigail or her calling me Timothy is part of the lesson that comes after our last conversation."
"So you're saying I really don't want to know?"
Abby's grinning very happily right now. "You don't want to know about safewords? So much fun and so many cool—"
Tony closes his eyes and cuts in, "No, I don't want to know that you and McGee have or need them."
Abby shrugs. "I didn't know you were so vanilla."
"When it comes to mental images of McGee naked, I'm whatever makes vanilla look dangerous and kinky. So, can we talk vows, now?"
"Sure. Here." Tim hands Tony the pen, and pushes the pad of paper back to him. "We're going to get something to drink. You're going to spend the next ten minutes writing anything and everything that's comes to mind when you think of being married to Ziva. It doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to be vows. Just turn your internal filter off, and put anything that comes to mind on that piece of paper."
LinkTen minutes later Tim walked back in and saw Tony sitting in front of what looked like a much more filled in page. Unfortunately, as he got a few steps closer he saw that much more filled in was a collection of little interlocking squares and triangles.
"Do you really want to do this?" Tim asks.
"Where'd Abby go?" Tony replies with, not answering.
"Bowling practice with the Nuns. She'll be back in two hours."
"Oh."
"She also thinks you'll have an easier time of this without her hovering over your shoulder."
"Maybe."
"So, really, either you have no clue what being married is about, or this isn't a good fit for you. What's going on?"
"Look, I know I can be smooth and sweet talk this. But I don't want it to be a line. I don't want it to be… that exterior veneer of 'DiNozzo.' And every time I start to come up with something, it's all smooth."
Tim wrote down:
With you, for you, I will always be real.I will not hide my mind or heart.
"Oh, that's good. I like that."
"Good, then translate that into however you'd say that to her."
"It sounds more earnest in your voice."
"And when Ziva comes to her senses and decides to marry me, that'll matter. This might be my wedding present to you, but it's not my wedding present to her, so it better sound like you by the time this is done."
You make me want to be a better man. Tony wrote that under the first two lines, and Tim scratched it out.
"What?"
"Movie quote. Don't use someone else's words, find your own." But Tim stopped on that idea. "Actually… you love movies. You love her. Come on." He hops up and drags Tony in the chair to his computer. Two seconds later he's googled Blank Books, and he's got pages of empty books up on the screen.
"Find a beautiful one. Get a good pen. And write them all down. Fill the book with the quotes that now mean something to you because she's in your life. She loves books, so write her a book. You love movies, so fill it with movies. It doesn't have to be your own words; it has to be your own feelings, and if someone else has the words, use theirs."
Tony grins, wide smile stretching across his face.
"That I can do."
Next
Chapter 177: I, Anthony...
I, Anthony, take you, Ziva, to be my lawfully wedded wife.
Tim looked at the one line of text in Tony's handwriting on a pad of legal paper, and then looked back up at Tony. At his wedding, Tony had talked about the two of them working on his vows. And now, with Tony's wedding not quite three weeks away, they were getting to it.
Though as Tim remembers it, he'd specified that Tony should have a rough draft that they'd work with together, because he was not going to ghost write Tony's vows.
"One line?" He's glaring a little at Tony. Not really angry, but frustrated. "The idea was you'd have a rough draft, and we'd work from there."
"It's really rough."
"It's non-existent. This is the part the Rabbi will say for you, and you'll just repeat back!"
"Actually no. The vows are in Hebrew. But… I wanted to write something for her. Something personalized. They don't have to be vows but…"
Oh. So not vows at all. Something different. Something Tony's never done before and probably feels completely lost dealing with. "Are you saying you want help writing a love poem?"
"A vowish love poems."
"Wow!" Tim's got an expression of wonder on his face, possibly with a tinge of teasing condescension as well.
Tony catches all the layers of that look and says, "Stuff it. Since no one in her immediate family is still alive, a 'traditional' wedding is important to Ziva, and she'd never say it, but I can see it, it's that last thread of home and family for her. So I'm fine with doing the traditional Hebrew vows, but… I want to give her something from me, as well. And I don't want to sound like an idiot doing it. So, McPoet, I am asking you for help."
Tim smiles; he understands that completely.
"Hey, can I come in, or is this a guy only party?" Abby asks, sticking her head into Tim's office.
"Please come in," Tony replies. He's sitting on Tim's one desk chair, and Tim is in the other one, so she settles onto Tim's lap. And Tony watches as, apparently, without him even noticing, Tim's hand comes to rest on her belly, while he kisses her neck.
"Good nap?"
"Yeah. I just hate being tired all the time." She turns to Tony. "It's better than it was, but I still need eight to ten hours of sleep a night, and I've never needed that much sleep. It's insane."
"Your body is working hard," Tim says, fondly stroking her tummy.
"And making me sleep hard, too." She looks at the piece of paper in front of Tim and Tony. "So, working on vows?"
"Sort of," Tony answers and then explains what they're doing.
"You want to call Jimmy?" Abby asks.
Both Tim and Tony say "No" in exactly the same tone of voice at exactly the same time.
Abby looks puzzled by this.
"Look, I love Jimmy, but he's terrible at this stuff," Tim says.
Tony's nodding. "The man had his testicles surgically removed when he was writing his vows. 'And each day I will shower you in a thousand butterfly kisses and thank the Lord you were born.' No!"
"Breena loved it! And it was so sweet."
"And if I was getting ready to marry Breena, Jimmy'd be the first guy I'd call for vow help. But, I do not want Ziva bursting into hysterical laughter when she reads this."
Abby takes the pen and crosses out Tony's name. "She doesn't call you Anthony. Only Ducky does. Tony's more personal."
"Okay, see, we're getting somewhere. Is that why you two did Tim and Abby for your vows instead of Timothy and Abigail?"
Tony looks up from where Abby scratched out his name when he notices that neither of them have said anything. He sees the smile on Abby's face is wicked glee, and Tim's looking pretty smug, as well.
Finally Tim says, "Remember the last ropes and things conversations, when you asked me what other help you might want?"
Tony's nodding, looking really disturbed, but he says, "Yes."
"Why you'll never hear me call her Abigail or her calling me Timothy is part of the lesson that comes after our last conversation."
"So you're saying I really don't want to know?"
Abby's grinning very happily right now. "You don't want to know about safewords? So much fun and so many cool—"
Tony closes his eyes and cuts in, "No, I don't want to know that you and McGee have or need them."
Abby shrugs. "I didn't know you were so vanilla."
"When it comes to mental images of McGee naked, I'm whatever makes vanilla look dangerous and kinky. So, can we talk vows, now?"
"Sure. Here." Tim hands Tony the pen, and pushes the pad of paper back to him. "We're going to get something to drink. You're going to spend the next ten minutes writing anything and everything that's comes to mind when you think of being married to Ziva. It doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to be vows. Just turn your internal filter off, and put anything that comes to mind on that piece of paper."
LinkTen minutes later Tim walked back in and saw Tony sitting in front of what looked like a much more filled in page. Unfortunately, as he got a few steps closer he saw that much more filled in was a collection of little interlocking squares and triangles."Do you really want to do this?" Tim asks.
"Where'd Abby go?" Tony replies with, not answering.
"Bowling practice with the Nuns. She'll be back in two hours."
"Oh."
"She also thinks you'll have an easier time of this without her hovering over your shoulder."
"Maybe."
"So, really, either you have no clue what being married is about, or this isn't a good fit for you. What's going on?"
"Look, I know I can be smooth and sweet talk this. But I don't want it to be a line. I don't want it to be… that exterior veneer of 'DiNozzo.' And every time I start to come up with something, it's all smooth."
Tim wrote down:
With you, for you, I will always be real.I will not hide my mind or heart.
"Oh, that's good. I like that."
"Good, then translate that into however you'd say that to her."
"It sounds more earnest in your voice."
"And when Ziva comes to her senses and decides to marry me, that'll matter. This might be my wedding present to you, but it's not my wedding present to her, so it better sound like you by the time this is done."
You make me want to be a better man. Tony wrote that under the first two lines, and Tim scratched it out.
"What?"
"Movie quote. Don't use someone else's words, find your own." But Tim stopped on that idea. "Actually… you love movies. You love her. Come on." He hops up and drags Tony in the chair to his computer. Two seconds later he's googled Blank Books, and he's got pages of empty books up on the screen.
"Find a beautiful one. Get a good pen. And write them all down. Fill the book with the quotes that now mean something to you because she's in your life. She loves books, so write her a book. You love movies, so fill it with movies. It doesn't have to be your own words; it has to be your own feelings, and if someone else has the words, use theirs."
Tony grins, wide smile stretching across his face.
"That I can do."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 176
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 176: You're A Dad
"Did you get the results?" Tim asked Jimmy on Tuesday at lunch.
Tim knows the answer is yes. He can see it by the way Jimmy hasn't checked his cell, and the fact that he looks a lot more relaxed. Not necessarily happier, but more at peace, so the results on the genetic testing for the Trisomy 13 gene must have come back.
"Neither of us." He stabs a bite of his chicken breast. "It was just bad damn luck. If we want to do IVF and have the embryos screened ahead of time, we can, but since neither of us are carriers the chance of it happening again isn't any higher than it was the first time."
"So…"
Jimmy shakes his head. "No. We're not going to do that."
"Just gonna close your eyes and jump off the cliff again?"
"Hoping and praying for a soft landing the entire way down? Yeah."
"You sure…" Tim's not sure how to say this delicately, so he goes for blunt as hell, "if it's a money thing… I mean, I know our insurance won't cover that… Abby and I could help." He and Abby talked about, so he knows she's okay with it. It's not the sort of thing he'd just whip out on a whim.
Jimmy just blinks at him. "Uh… wow! That's just… Do you have any idea what that sort of thing costs?"
"Yeah. Which is why I brought it up."
Jimmy's looking at him in confusion. "How would you even know that?"
"When something scary happens to me or anyone I love I research the hell out of it."
"Oh."
"So… ummm… yeah…"
"It's not a money thing. It's a… Neither of us wants to make babies by me jerking off into a cup while pumping her full of hormones to bolster egg production and then suck them out, mix in a pitri dish, let them grow a little, test them, and then put them back in. I mean…" He pokes at his food some more, gathering his thoughts. "It's supposed to feel good. It's supposed to be about joy and love and ecstasy… Making them is the fun part…" Jimmy shakes his head dismissively at that. "Making them is a fun part. Making them is supposed to feel as good as having them, and since it won't really change things, we're not willing to give that up, let alone go broke doing it."
Tim nods. He's not entirely certain how to reply to that. He gets what Jimmy is saying, and completely agrees with it, but "Good luck" seems flip and hollow, "I hope it works out" seems lame, but he does want to say something.
Finally he comes up with, "I can't wait to meet Molly's little brother or sister."
"You and me both."
"You going to start trying again right away?"
"Oh yeah. Tossed the condoms out last night. With any luck it'll be a really exciting Christmas at our house this year."
"I really hope so."
"Me, too." Jimmy took another bite of his grilled chicken salad. "Abby said you had news, too."
"Yeah. Don't want this getting around work, though." Which was probably half of why Abby decided he and Jimmy needed to have lunch out today and set it up. "When Jenner in Cybercrime gives his notice, I'll take his place."
LinkJimmy smiles at that. "Department head by forty, who knew you were so ambitious?"
"Yeah. Well, assuming Jenner doesn't decide to stick around forever. Scuttlebutt has it he's been job hunting, though."
"You don't exactly look ecstatic."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy, but… the badge and the gun and running down bad guys… That's a really big part of who I am. I'm a cop."
Jimmy nods, getting that. "You're a dad."
"Yeah, and husband, and that comes first, and this is necessary to put that first. I can track cybercrime from home. I can sort financials, and hunt down the bad guys with my computer while Ke—McSciuto—"
"Ke—McSciuto?"
"That family name we haven't been telling anyone about."
"Yeah, Tim, I hate to break this to you, but all of your friends are cops, and even if they weren't, they aren't idiots. Absolutely no one hasn't figured out your mystery 'family name' is Kelly."
Tim sighs a little, rolls his eyes a little, and takes a bite of his flounder. "We're still going to wait to see if she's actually a girl, and then ask Jethro to make sure it's cool with him."
Jimmy nod and smiles. "You know, for a guy who'll wear a skirt and eyeliner to Shabbos, you're shockingly conservative about some things."
"I only did the eyeliner once." Which is true. Penny was at last Friday's Shabbos and… he's fairly sure it was fall out from rethinking everything that happened with his Dad, but he went all out on the Goth version of himself. Penny just looked at him when he and Abby came in, smiled, kissed his cheek, and asked what brand of eyeliner he liked, listened to his answer, and then acted like him in makeup was no big deal at all.
That had actually felt insanely good.
"I know."
"Just wanted to freak Tony out and let Penny see what it looked like."
"And you did a fine job of both of them. Last I heard, he was muttering about instituting a dress code, and had told me that if you try to wear makeup to his wedding that I'm to wrestle you to the ground and scrub it off."
Tim laughed at that. "I hadn't been planning on it… Anyway… McSciuto can be sleeping in her crib, and I can be hacking away in my office. I can be home at six every night. Sure, I might be chained to my computer and cell once I get there, and I might end up with three other Cybercrime Agents in my living room, but unlike Abby, my job can come home."
"Yep. You're a dad."
"Yeah. And I want to do it right. But… it still feels weird."
"Feels like you're changing. Like you don't quite know who you are?"
"Yeah."
"Welcome to the club, Tim. Give it a few months, once she's on the outside, you'll get settled again."
"I hope so."
Next
Chapter 176: You're A Dad
"Did you get the results?" Tim asked Jimmy on Tuesday at lunch.
Tim knows the answer is yes. He can see it by the way Jimmy hasn't checked his cell, and the fact that he looks a lot more relaxed. Not necessarily happier, but more at peace, so the results on the genetic testing for the Trisomy 13 gene must have come back.
"Neither of us." He stabs a bite of his chicken breast. "It was just bad damn luck. If we want to do IVF and have the embryos screened ahead of time, we can, but since neither of us are carriers the chance of it happening again isn't any higher than it was the first time."
"So…"
Jimmy shakes his head. "No. We're not going to do that."
"Just gonna close your eyes and jump off the cliff again?"
"Hoping and praying for a soft landing the entire way down? Yeah."
"You sure…" Tim's not sure how to say this delicately, so he goes for blunt as hell, "if it's a money thing… I mean, I know our insurance won't cover that… Abby and I could help." He and Abby talked about, so he knows she's okay with it. It's not the sort of thing he'd just whip out on a whim.
Jimmy just blinks at him. "Uh… wow! That's just… Do you have any idea what that sort of thing costs?"
"Yeah. Which is why I brought it up."
Jimmy's looking at him in confusion. "How would you even know that?"
"When something scary happens to me or anyone I love I research the hell out of it."
"Oh."
"So… ummm… yeah…"
"It's not a money thing. It's a… Neither of us wants to make babies by me jerking off into a cup while pumping her full of hormones to bolster egg production and then suck them out, mix in a pitri dish, let them grow a little, test them, and then put them back in. I mean…" He pokes at his food some more, gathering his thoughts. "It's supposed to feel good. It's supposed to be about joy and love and ecstasy… Making them is the fun part…" Jimmy shakes his head dismissively at that. "Making them is a fun part. Making them is supposed to feel as good as having them, and since it won't really change things, we're not willing to give that up, let alone go broke doing it."
Tim nods. He's not entirely certain how to reply to that. He gets what Jimmy is saying, and completely agrees with it, but "Good luck" seems flip and hollow, "I hope it works out" seems lame, but he does want to say something.
Finally he comes up with, "I can't wait to meet Molly's little brother or sister."
"You and me both."
"You going to start trying again right away?"
"Oh yeah. Tossed the condoms out last night. With any luck it'll be a really exciting Christmas at our house this year."
"I really hope so."
"Me, too." Jimmy took another bite of his grilled chicken salad. "Abby said you had news, too."
"Yeah. Don't want this getting around work, though." Which was probably half of why Abby decided he and Jimmy needed to have lunch out today and set it up. "When Jenner in Cybercrime gives his notice, I'll take his place."
LinkJimmy smiles at that. "Department head by forty, who knew you were so ambitious?""Yeah. Well, assuming Jenner doesn't decide to stick around forever. Scuttlebutt has it he's been job hunting, though."
"You don't exactly look ecstatic."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy, but… the badge and the gun and running down bad guys… That's a really big part of who I am. I'm a cop."
Jimmy nods, getting that. "You're a dad."
"Yeah, and husband, and that comes first, and this is necessary to put that first. I can track cybercrime from home. I can sort financials, and hunt down the bad guys with my computer while Ke—McSciuto—"
"Ke—McSciuto?"
"That family name we haven't been telling anyone about."
"Yeah, Tim, I hate to break this to you, but all of your friends are cops, and even if they weren't, they aren't idiots. Absolutely no one hasn't figured out your mystery 'family name' is Kelly."
Tim sighs a little, rolls his eyes a little, and takes a bite of his flounder. "We're still going to wait to see if she's actually a girl, and then ask Jethro to make sure it's cool with him."
Jimmy nod and smiles. "You know, for a guy who'll wear a skirt and eyeliner to Shabbos, you're shockingly conservative about some things."
"I only did the eyeliner once." Which is true. Penny was at last Friday's Shabbos and… he's fairly sure it was fall out from rethinking everything that happened with his Dad, but he went all out on the Goth version of himself. Penny just looked at him when he and Abby came in, smiled, kissed his cheek, and asked what brand of eyeliner he liked, listened to his answer, and then acted like him in makeup was no big deal at all.
That had actually felt insanely good.
"I know."
"Just wanted to freak Tony out and let Penny see what it looked like."
"And you did a fine job of both of them. Last I heard, he was muttering about instituting a dress code, and had told me that if you try to wear makeup to his wedding that I'm to wrestle you to the ground and scrub it off."
Tim laughed at that. "I hadn't been planning on it… Anyway… McSciuto can be sleeping in her crib, and I can be hacking away in my office. I can be home at six every night. Sure, I might be chained to my computer and cell once I get there, and I might end up with three other Cybercrime Agents in my living room, but unlike Abby, my job can come home."
"Yep. You're a dad."
"Yeah. And I want to do it right. But… it still feels weird."
"Feels like you're changing. Like you don't quite know who you are?"
"Yeah."
"Welcome to the club, Tim. Give it a few months, once she's on the outside, you'll get settled again."
"I hope so."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 175
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 175: Cybercrime
Monday morning Tim fired off two emails. One to Vance's assistant asking for an appointment and the other to Geoff Carter, who, once upon a time, had been one of Tim's classmates at FLETC.
These days Geoff taught Civil Rights law to the new Probie wannabes. He made sure they knew what was and what was not legal when it came to dealing with the wider world. Back in the day he'd been one of Tim's study partners.
He asked Geoff if he could get the CVs of two or three guys who were hot on tech/computer skills, preferably ex-Military, young, and with no previous law enforcement experience.
He got one back saying: "Want a unicorn while you're at it?"
That made him smile.
He sent back:
If you've got one.
Our team is losing half of its members soon and I need a tech guy who can shoot or ask questions or speak military or something like that. And if he can do all of that, even better.
Half an hour later he got back.
Does this unicorn have to be a he?
Tim quickly sent back:
Nope. Male, female, undeclared, somewhere in-between, doesn't matter. Knows his/her way around a computer, that does.
Two hours later he'd gotten an email back with some interesting looking attachments. He was just about to open them when Vance's assistant buzzed him and let him know that Vance had some time.
So he shot the email to Tony, said, "Let me know who looks interesting, and I'll set up the interviews," and then headed up.
There was a time when he found dealing with Vance to be deeply intimidating. That time is not now. He's not entirely sure when it changed. Somewhere between taking down Bodnar and his wedding. But no matter how it happened, it did.
Which is not to say he finds dealing with Vance particularly comfortable.
The man is still his Boss, still the head of their agency, and still deeply formidable.
So, while it's true that he doesn't have to give himself a little pep talk or anything, he does pause for a second before opening the door to straighten up and get himself into the right mindset for this.
"You wanted to see me, McGee?" Vance asks as he walks in.
"Yes." Confidence, his job is to tell Vance what he wants, and then make sure Vance knows he's got the balls to deal with whatever gets tossed at him. A little voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him to channel Gibbs. Talk more than Gibbs would, but project that same air of there's nothing you can throw at me that I can't handle.
Vance gets up from his desk and gestures to the seats at the conference table. They both sit.
"Well…"
"Back in '11 you offered me Okinawa's Cybercrime department. I assume you did that because you knew I could handle not just a team, but a department. I'm better now than I was then. Everyone knows Jenner's not happy here, and when he leaves, I want his job."
"Uh huh…" Vance has that hard to read look on his face, pretty much the only thing Tim knows for sure is that he's not in any way, shape, or form surprised by this. "And what do you suggest I tell William Sumtor, Jenner's second-in-command, who is also under the impression that he'd do a good job with DC Cybercrime and has been waiting for Jenner to leave so he can take his place?"
"That I'll do a better one."
Vance smiles a little at that, which makes Tim happy, then says, "Are you sure?" which is less fun.
"Yes. I know Will, he was down in the basement when you sent me there the first time. He's great. He's competent. He's a really good second-in-command. And he's got the imagination of a bucket of cement. He will follow orders perfectly. He will do exactly what you tell him to exactly the way you tell him to do it. He's probably the most reliable man I met down there. But he can't think outside the box, doesn't innovate, and you know that about him, otherwise you would have offered him Okinawa when it opened up."
"That so?" Vance appears to be amused by this.
It bugs Tim when Vance does this. He's fairly certain that Vance will give him Cybercrime, but this testing thing, proving he's up for it is annoying. Still, as hoop jumping goes, this is child's play compared to his first five years with Tony and Gibbs.
"Yes. Sumtor's a good symbol for DC Cybercrime. Competent, technically skilled, decent at the job, but no spark. LA and Okinawa are high-tech, cutting edge, on the front lines of the cyber battles. We're playing clean up in the back. And it's because there's no one in the basement who knows how to give orders. No one's figured out that we are not supposed to be playing defense, but that it's our job to go out and find the bad guys, catch them at their own game, and tie them in knots."
"And you're the guy to do that?"
"Yes, because in the last ten years you've needed tons of secure systems hacked, you've needed feints, Trojan horses, and decoy systems, and not once have you ever called any of the guys in the basement, whose job it is to do precisely that. You've called me. Because you know I'm the guy who can take an objective, catch the bad guy, and figure out what needs to be done and do it without someone telling me what to do."
"I do. But running yourself is very different than running a department."
"It is."
"And Okinawa, which you are right, is the premier cybercrime division at NCIS is four people. It's a team, and a department in name only. And DC Cybercrime is twelve agents and two support staff. It's a real department."
"True."
"And in fourteen years, you've taken point on fewer than ten operations."
"Also true."
"And for all his lack of imagination, Sumtor is a fantastic bureaucrat. He knows how to manage people."
"I'm sure he does. And I'm sure his paperwork is always perfect. Of course, mine is, too." Tim smiles wryly at that. His is. And so is Tony and Ziva's when he does theirs. In fact, the single biggest change that'll happen when he leaves the MCRT is that the quality of the paperwork is going to drop like a rock tossed off a cliff. "And it's true I haven't taken point often, but the last time I did, I was managing more than two thousand people. But it wasn't keeping all those people on a leash, making sure they did the right things at the right time that ended that manhunt, it was having enough imagination to be able to flush Blen out. It was being able to think outside of the box and then rebuild the box so that he couldn't hide in it. And if you want DC Cybercrime to ever be anything beyond a tech center that plays catch up, then when Jenner leaves, you'll give it to me, and I'll turn it into the best cybercrime division on the east coast."
Vance looks mildly amused by that. "It's the only cybercrime department on the east coast."
"Only one for NCIS, but CIA, IRS, FBI, NSA, and fourteen states all have cybercrime departments here, and if you give me three years, I will have them all beat."
Now Vance looks honestly amazed. That's a whole lot more than he expected Tim to come up with. "And how are you going to do that?"
"By rebuilding the box we all play in."
Leon sits back, steeples his hands in front of him, and smiles. "I like the sound of that."
"I thought you would."
"When Jenner gives notice, you'll be the next head of DC Cybercrime."
"Thank you."
"And when he gives notice, your first job as Boss is to tell Sumtor you're his new Boss."
"Of course."
"And I assume you are helping DiNozzo and David find a suitable replacement for you."
"Trying. Just got started on that this morning. Looking to find someone to replace me and Gibbs."
That got a grin out of Leon. "Good luck on that."
"Yeah."
"Well, don't let me keep you from it."
Tim knew a dismissal when he heard it, so off he went.
When Tim decided to start getting into better shape, he stopped taking the elevator. Sure using the stairs wasn't a ton of exercise, but he figured every little bit helped, and it didn't add all that much more time to getting from point A to point B. MTAC to Abby's lab is four flights of stairs and that's usually about as far as he goes in any given day.
So his feet are more or less on automatic, taking him toward the stairs as he gets out of Leon's office, but he stops, turns and heads for the elevator.
He wants to say it to Abby first. More importantly, he wants another moment where it's just his, and if he takes the stairs, then he has to go through the bullpen to get to her lab, and he knows they all saw him head up, so they'll want to know how it went.
He's going to be a department head. He'll have guys calling him Boss.
Wow. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slow, and tries to let it settle in, then hits the button for the lab.He'll be handing in his badge and his gun, sitting at a desk every day, coding until his eyes fall out, and filling out even more paperwork.
He's not going to see Tony and Ziva every day. He won't see dead bodies, either. No more running down suspects, at least, not with his feet, with his fingers will be a whole different story. He won't set all of his computers to searching for something, and then hop down to Abby's lab and use hers as well.
He won't be heading down there for updates on cases (and a quick smooch).
No more stakeouts.
No more long drives to go get suspects, or question witnesses, or talk to C.O.s.
No more bad take out eaten at his desk at ten at night while going over the clues with Tony and Ziva.
No more desk.
No more looking up and seeing the three of them working away on their paperwork.
He let out another long, slow breath.
Hopefully many fewer late nights. And even if he is on a case and it needs overtime, he'll be able to do it from home. Kelly's going to need someone at home, and he'll be there.
No more close calls. In the fourteen years he's been at NCIS they've lost exactly one Cybercrime Agent, and he was killed when Kahn leaked him. Not going to happen on his watch.
The elevator opens and his thinking time ends.
He pauses at the door to her lab, watching for a moment as she dispenses some sort of liquid into the tiny vials Major Mass Spec uses.
Learner's team is working on a drug ring case that got hot recently, so she's probably doing something for that.
She looks up from her pipette, jumps a little when she sees him lurking, and says, "So?"
He heads over to her, gently kissing her lips, and waiting for her to put the pipette down before hugging her. "You're looking at the next head of DC Cybercrime."
She squeezed him tight and shrieked. "When?"
"Whenever Jenner gives notice."
She was doing an excited little bouncing sort of thing, but his voice caught her attention, and she stopped and really looked at him. "You okay?"
He shrugs, holding her close, feeling her head against his shoulder. "I think so. Just, on the way down, I was thinking of all the things that are never going to happen again once I make the switch. And some of them are good and some are bad."
"You regretting it?"
"No!" He shook his head vehemently. "It's just… I won't see them every day anymore. I probably won't see you every day anymore, not here at least. There'll be no reason for me to come down, I guess once I get to Cybercrime, up here to work. It's going to be really different."
"It's going to be really good. You're going to be the Boss."
"Yeah, that's sort of freaky, too."
"Tell me about it."
He nods, understanding her own issues with this. Norfolk was supposed to close its lab in January. That didn't happen, emergency funding showed up from the ethers, but that funding was only going to keep Norfolk going until June. Supposedly, for real this time, come June 1st Abby would have two more forensic scientists working under her. And sure, that worked out really well from a maternity leave perspective, but she was pretty nervous about being the Boss all of a sudden, let alone sharing her lab with new people.
"You want to celebrate?"
"Not yet. Let me actually get the job. Want to keep this quiet. Among other things, Sumtor doesn't know he's not the next Head of DC Cybercrime, and when Jenner gives notice, letting him know that is my job. So, for right now, I want to just keep this in the family."
"No problem." She kissed him, sure that he needs the extra time to let it settle in. Then she kissed him again, suddenly understanding part of why he looks so out of it. "You're still you, Tim."
Image from http://leticiahp16.tumblr.com/He nods, seeing her get it. Special Agent Tim McGee is a good third of his core identity, and soon, he won't be Special Agent Tim McGee anymore.
"I know." And he does know it, but feeling it is a different story.
She kisses him again.
"I should probably get back up. Paperwork's not doing itself. And I got Tony a list of guys from FLETC to look at, got to see what he's thinking about them."
"Okay." One last kiss, soft, gentle, supportive, and then he heads toward the stairs.
LinkWhen he got to the Bullpen all three of them were staring at them. He gave a tiny nod which they all caught, and Tony was about to start asking about it when Tim also shook his head slightly, signaling not here. They understood that, as well.
Two seconds later, before he had even gotten all the way to his desk, Gibbs' phone rang.
And they all know how this works, before Gibbs even has the phone put down they're snagging their go bags, saving and closing computer work, stashing paperwork, and by the time Gibbs had the phone hung up they were ready to go.
"Gear up." It's a formality now. It's probably been years since Gibbs has had to say the words.
But like a mantra, or a benediction, those words start a case. They mark the team swinging into action. And today they mark something else, the beginning of the end of Team Gibbs.
Next
Chapter 175: Cybercrime
Monday morning Tim fired off two emails. One to Vance's assistant asking for an appointment and the other to Geoff Carter, who, once upon a time, had been one of Tim's classmates at FLETC.
These days Geoff taught Civil Rights law to the new Probie wannabes. He made sure they knew what was and what was not legal when it came to dealing with the wider world. Back in the day he'd been one of Tim's study partners.
He asked Geoff if he could get the CVs of two or three guys who were hot on tech/computer skills, preferably ex-Military, young, and with no previous law enforcement experience.
He got one back saying: "Want a unicorn while you're at it?"
That made him smile.
He sent back:
If you've got one.
Our team is losing half of its members soon and I need a tech guy who can shoot or ask questions or speak military or something like that. And if he can do all of that, even better.
Half an hour later he got back.
Does this unicorn have to be a he?
Tim quickly sent back:
Nope. Male, female, undeclared, somewhere in-between, doesn't matter. Knows his/her way around a computer, that does.
Two hours later he'd gotten an email back with some interesting looking attachments. He was just about to open them when Vance's assistant buzzed him and let him know that Vance had some time.
So he shot the email to Tony, said, "Let me know who looks interesting, and I'll set up the interviews," and then headed up.
There was a time when he found dealing with Vance to be deeply intimidating. That time is not now. He's not entirely sure when it changed. Somewhere between taking down Bodnar and his wedding. But no matter how it happened, it did.
Which is not to say he finds dealing with Vance particularly comfortable.
The man is still his Boss, still the head of their agency, and still deeply formidable.
So, while it's true that he doesn't have to give himself a little pep talk or anything, he does pause for a second before opening the door to straighten up and get himself into the right mindset for this.
"You wanted to see me, McGee?" Vance asks as he walks in.
"Yes." Confidence, his job is to tell Vance what he wants, and then make sure Vance knows he's got the balls to deal with whatever gets tossed at him. A little voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him to channel Gibbs. Talk more than Gibbs would, but project that same air of there's nothing you can throw at me that I can't handle.
Vance gets up from his desk and gestures to the seats at the conference table. They both sit.
"Well…"
"Back in '11 you offered me Okinawa's Cybercrime department. I assume you did that because you knew I could handle not just a team, but a department. I'm better now than I was then. Everyone knows Jenner's not happy here, and when he leaves, I want his job."
"Uh huh…" Vance has that hard to read look on his face, pretty much the only thing Tim knows for sure is that he's not in any way, shape, or form surprised by this. "And what do you suggest I tell William Sumtor, Jenner's second-in-command, who is also under the impression that he'd do a good job with DC Cybercrime and has been waiting for Jenner to leave so he can take his place?"
"That I'll do a better one."
Vance smiles a little at that, which makes Tim happy, then says, "Are you sure?" which is less fun.
"Yes. I know Will, he was down in the basement when you sent me there the first time. He's great. He's competent. He's a really good second-in-command. And he's got the imagination of a bucket of cement. He will follow orders perfectly. He will do exactly what you tell him to exactly the way you tell him to do it. He's probably the most reliable man I met down there. But he can't think outside the box, doesn't innovate, and you know that about him, otherwise you would have offered him Okinawa when it opened up."
"That so?" Vance appears to be amused by this.
It bugs Tim when Vance does this. He's fairly certain that Vance will give him Cybercrime, but this testing thing, proving he's up for it is annoying. Still, as hoop jumping goes, this is child's play compared to his first five years with Tony and Gibbs.
"Yes. Sumtor's a good symbol for DC Cybercrime. Competent, technically skilled, decent at the job, but no spark. LA and Okinawa are high-tech, cutting edge, on the front lines of the cyber battles. We're playing clean up in the back. And it's because there's no one in the basement who knows how to give orders. No one's figured out that we are not supposed to be playing defense, but that it's our job to go out and find the bad guys, catch them at their own game, and tie them in knots."
"And you're the guy to do that?"
"Yes, because in the last ten years you've needed tons of secure systems hacked, you've needed feints, Trojan horses, and decoy systems, and not once have you ever called any of the guys in the basement, whose job it is to do precisely that. You've called me. Because you know I'm the guy who can take an objective, catch the bad guy, and figure out what needs to be done and do it without someone telling me what to do."
"I do. But running yourself is very different than running a department."
"It is."
"And Okinawa, which you are right, is the premier cybercrime division at NCIS is four people. It's a team, and a department in name only. And DC Cybercrime is twelve agents and two support staff. It's a real department."
"True."
"And in fourteen years, you've taken point on fewer than ten operations."
"Also true."
"And for all his lack of imagination, Sumtor is a fantastic bureaucrat. He knows how to manage people."
"I'm sure he does. And I'm sure his paperwork is always perfect. Of course, mine is, too." Tim smiles wryly at that. His is. And so is Tony and Ziva's when he does theirs. In fact, the single biggest change that'll happen when he leaves the MCRT is that the quality of the paperwork is going to drop like a rock tossed off a cliff. "And it's true I haven't taken point often, but the last time I did, I was managing more than two thousand people. But it wasn't keeping all those people on a leash, making sure they did the right things at the right time that ended that manhunt, it was having enough imagination to be able to flush Blen out. It was being able to think outside of the box and then rebuild the box so that he couldn't hide in it. And if you want DC Cybercrime to ever be anything beyond a tech center that plays catch up, then when Jenner leaves, you'll give it to me, and I'll turn it into the best cybercrime division on the east coast."
Vance looks mildly amused by that. "It's the only cybercrime department on the east coast."
"Only one for NCIS, but CIA, IRS, FBI, NSA, and fourteen states all have cybercrime departments here, and if you give me three years, I will have them all beat."
Now Vance looks honestly amazed. That's a whole lot more than he expected Tim to come up with. "And how are you going to do that?"
"By rebuilding the box we all play in."
Leon sits back, steeples his hands in front of him, and smiles. "I like the sound of that."
"I thought you would."
"When Jenner gives notice, you'll be the next head of DC Cybercrime."
"Thank you."
"And when he gives notice, your first job as Boss is to tell Sumtor you're his new Boss."
"Of course."
"And I assume you are helping DiNozzo and David find a suitable replacement for you."
"Trying. Just got started on that this morning. Looking to find someone to replace me and Gibbs."
That got a grin out of Leon. "Good luck on that."
"Yeah."
"Well, don't let me keep you from it."
Tim knew a dismissal when he heard it, so off he went.
When Tim decided to start getting into better shape, he stopped taking the elevator. Sure using the stairs wasn't a ton of exercise, but he figured every little bit helped, and it didn't add all that much more time to getting from point A to point B. MTAC to Abby's lab is four flights of stairs and that's usually about as far as he goes in any given day.
So his feet are more or less on automatic, taking him toward the stairs as he gets out of Leon's office, but he stops, turns and heads for the elevator.
He wants to say it to Abby first. More importantly, he wants another moment where it's just his, and if he takes the stairs, then he has to go through the bullpen to get to her lab, and he knows they all saw him head up, so they'll want to know how it went.
He's going to be a department head. He'll have guys calling him Boss.
Wow. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slow, and tries to let it settle in, then hits the button for the lab.He'll be handing in his badge and his gun, sitting at a desk every day, coding until his eyes fall out, and filling out even more paperwork.
He's not going to see Tony and Ziva every day. He won't see dead bodies, either. No more running down suspects, at least, not with his feet, with his fingers will be a whole different story. He won't set all of his computers to searching for something, and then hop down to Abby's lab and use hers as well.
He won't be heading down there for updates on cases (and a quick smooch).
No more stakeouts.
No more long drives to go get suspects, or question witnesses, or talk to C.O.s.
No more bad take out eaten at his desk at ten at night while going over the clues with Tony and Ziva.
No more desk.
No more looking up and seeing the three of them working away on their paperwork.
He let out another long, slow breath.
Hopefully many fewer late nights. And even if he is on a case and it needs overtime, he'll be able to do it from home. Kelly's going to need someone at home, and he'll be there.
No more close calls. In the fourteen years he's been at NCIS they've lost exactly one Cybercrime Agent, and he was killed when Kahn leaked him. Not going to happen on his watch.
The elevator opens and his thinking time ends.
He pauses at the door to her lab, watching for a moment as she dispenses some sort of liquid into the tiny vials Major Mass Spec uses.
Learner's team is working on a drug ring case that got hot recently, so she's probably doing something for that.
She looks up from her pipette, jumps a little when she sees him lurking, and says, "So?"
He heads over to her, gently kissing her lips, and waiting for her to put the pipette down before hugging her. "You're looking at the next head of DC Cybercrime."
She squeezed him tight and shrieked. "When?"
"Whenever Jenner gives notice."
She was doing an excited little bouncing sort of thing, but his voice caught her attention, and she stopped and really looked at him. "You okay?"
He shrugs, holding her close, feeling her head against his shoulder. "I think so. Just, on the way down, I was thinking of all the things that are never going to happen again once I make the switch. And some of them are good and some are bad."
"You regretting it?"
"No!" He shook his head vehemently. "It's just… I won't see them every day anymore. I probably won't see you every day anymore, not here at least. There'll be no reason for me to come down, I guess once I get to Cybercrime, up here to work. It's going to be really different."
"It's going to be really good. You're going to be the Boss."
"Yeah, that's sort of freaky, too."
"Tell me about it."
He nods, understanding her own issues with this. Norfolk was supposed to close its lab in January. That didn't happen, emergency funding showed up from the ethers, but that funding was only going to keep Norfolk going until June. Supposedly, for real this time, come June 1st Abby would have two more forensic scientists working under her. And sure, that worked out really well from a maternity leave perspective, but she was pretty nervous about being the Boss all of a sudden, let alone sharing her lab with new people.
"You want to celebrate?"
"Not yet. Let me actually get the job. Want to keep this quiet. Among other things, Sumtor doesn't know he's not the next Head of DC Cybercrime, and when Jenner gives notice, letting him know that is my job. So, for right now, I want to just keep this in the family."
"No problem." She kissed him, sure that he needs the extra time to let it settle in. Then she kissed him again, suddenly understanding part of why he looks so out of it. "You're still you, Tim."
Image from http://leticiahp16.tumblr.com/He nods, seeing her get it. Special Agent Tim McGee is a good third of his core identity, and soon, he won't be Special Agent Tim McGee anymore."I know." And he does know it, but feeling it is a different story.
She kisses him again.
"I should probably get back up. Paperwork's not doing itself. And I got Tony a list of guys from FLETC to look at, got to see what he's thinking about them."
"Okay." One last kiss, soft, gentle, supportive, and then he heads toward the stairs.
LinkWhen he got to the Bullpen all three of them were staring at them. He gave a tiny nod which they all caught, and Tony was about to start asking about it when Tim also shook his head slightly, signaling not here. They understood that, as well.Two seconds later, before he had even gotten all the way to his desk, Gibbs' phone rang.
And they all know how this works, before Gibbs even has the phone put down they're snagging their go bags, saving and closing computer work, stashing paperwork, and by the time Gibbs had the phone hung up they were ready to go.
"Gear up." It's a formality now. It's probably been years since Gibbs has had to say the words.
But like a mantra, or a benediction, those words start a case. They mark the team swinging into action. And today they mark something else, the beginning of the end of Team Gibbs.
Next
August 18, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 174
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 174: Nothing Lasts Forever
Dinner had wrapped up an hour before. Jimmy, Breena, and Molly had gone home. Which meant Gibbs was alone with his core team, sitting around the McGee's living room, and it was time to have a serious conversation.
"We know I'm leaving in January." Gibbs said, and looked to Tim.
"I don't know when, yet. I have to talk to Vance, let him know I want Cybercrime when it's open."
"Is it going to be open?" Ziva asked.
"I've heard enough rumors about Jenner not being happy to think it will be, probably in the next year. And I think if I tell him I want it, Vance will give it to me. He offered Okinawa when it opened up, and that's actually a better team than DC. I don't think he'll have a problem with me taking it when Jenner leaves."
"So, in the next year you're going to make me break in two probies?" Tony asks.
"That's the question, isn't it?" Abby adds.
"We can start bringing in new people now, see who fits. Make sure you don't end up with a new team all at once," Tim says.
"Dornaget." Gibbs says.
"Yeah, I know he's been waiting five years for a spot on our team," Tony said. "And… look, he's not bad, but I'm not sure I want him. He's been in the evidence lock up for years, getting rustier and rustier. I'd rather have someone who took a field assignment than waiting around for us."
"You sure it's not just that he caught you out on the Probie crap?" Tim asks, smile on his face.
Tony gives him a little glare, trying to figure out how to recover from losing half his team is something that keeps him up at night. "I'm losing my tech specialist, half of my precision shooters, my sniper, my connections to three quarters of every organization with initials, my interrogation specialist, my hacker, my only person who speaks Marine, my Gunny, my 'Gut', half of my intimidators, and two men who have my back in any and every situation, can read Ziva and I with a glance, will back any play either of us comes up with, and have been there for me every single day for the last decade. Dornie fills none of those holes."
Gibbs nods, feeling a whole lot better about Tony being in charge of the team.
"You've given this a lot of thought," Tim adds.
"Yes. At a bare minimum I need tech and an interrogator. Precision shooting and intimidation are my next highest skills. Quick enough on the subtle clues to back Ziva and I no matter what comes next. I'll give Dornie a shot, he's earned that, but I don't think he's got what we need."
"Between the two of us, Tony and I have charm, evidence gathering, questioning skills, fighting, leadership, explosives—"
"Two-thirds of my explosives team, too. Forgot about that."
"Lock-picking, precision driving, intuition, and tactical planning. We're short a lot of skills if it's just the two of us."
"I can find you your hacker," Tim says. "Either out of Cybercrime or fresh out of FLETC."
Tony looks at Ziva. She nods a little. "FLETC. Get me someone young, who hasn't been around long enough to learn anyone else's bad habits. Filling your shoes is going to be almost impossible, but I've only got two slots, and I can't have someone who's just a desk jockey."
"They graduate in May. One of my classmates is an instructor now, I'll see who he recommends."
Gibbs smirks at Tony, and Tony turns to him, "What?"
"You'll be twenty, maybe twenty-five years older than anyone out of FLETC. Same difference between me and Tim."
Tony winces. "Oh God."
Gibbs nods, looking really smug.
"Were you really Tony's age when I started?"
"I was four years younger."
"I thought you were older than God," Tim said, shaking his head.
"And I was. And if you don't want just Probies on the team, ask for the rosters on the Agents Afloat. One of them might want a land based assignment."
"Burley," Ziva said. "Where is he stationed?"
Tony's eyes lit up. He knew they worked well together, they'd all come out of the Gibbs school of criminal investigating, and Burley knew what they were doing.
Gibbs shook his head. "Running his own team out of Pearl. Don't think he wants to come back here and take a demotion. Really don't think his wife wants to move."
"You could ask him if he's got someone who wants to be on the mainland. Borin's moved up at Coast Guard, maybe she can give you a lead on someone who's not happy there but would be a good fit," Abby suggested.
"Maybe, but if you're not a good fit there, you're probably not going to be a good fit for us, either," Tony says.
"Are you kidding? I'd have been miserable with the Coast Guard, but I'm happy as a clam at NCIS. We do really well with round pegs, go ask her who they've got that's not fitting into their square holes."
"Fornell could give you some names from the FBI as well. Guys who don't quite fit in there might work really well for us," Tim suggests.
"So, you're scouting the best and brightest FLETC has to offer. We're headhunting Coast Guard, NCIS Pearl Harbor and Agents Afloat, and the FBI for talent. And for either side, I'd prefer someone who was a Marine or Sailor," Tony said.
"Monday, I'll make the appointment to talk to Vance about moving on, and send Geoff the email about who we want out of FLETC. Hopefully by June I'll have some people who we can start working with.
Chapter 174: Nothing Lasts Forever
Dinner had wrapped up an hour before. Jimmy, Breena, and Molly had gone home. Which meant Gibbs was alone with his core team, sitting around the McGee's living room, and it was time to have a serious conversation.
"We know I'm leaving in January." Gibbs said, and looked to Tim.
"I don't know when, yet. I have to talk to Vance, let him know I want Cybercrime when it's open."
"Is it going to be open?" Ziva asked.
"I've heard enough rumors about Jenner not being happy to think it will be, probably in the next year. And I think if I tell him I want it, Vance will give it to me. He offered Okinawa when it opened up, and that's actually a better team than DC. I don't think he'll have a problem with me taking it when Jenner leaves."
"So, in the next year you're going to make me break in two probies?" Tony asks.
"That's the question, isn't it?" Abby adds.
"We can start bringing in new people now, see who fits. Make sure you don't end up with a new team all at once," Tim says.
"Dornaget." Gibbs says.
"Yeah, I know he's been waiting five years for a spot on our team," Tony said. "And… look, he's not bad, but I'm not sure I want him. He's been in the evidence lock up for years, getting rustier and rustier. I'd rather have someone who took a field assignment than waiting around for us."
"You sure it's not just that he caught you out on the Probie crap?" Tim asks, smile on his face.
Tony gives him a little glare, trying to figure out how to recover from losing half his team is something that keeps him up at night. "I'm losing my tech specialist, half of my precision shooters, my sniper, my connections to three quarters of every organization with initials, my interrogation specialist, my hacker, my only person who speaks Marine, my Gunny, my 'Gut', half of my intimidators, and two men who have my back in any and every situation, can read Ziva and I with a glance, will back any play either of us comes up with, and have been there for me every single day for the last decade. Dornie fills none of those holes."
Gibbs nods, feeling a whole lot better about Tony being in charge of the team.
"You've given this a lot of thought," Tim adds.
"Yes. At a bare minimum I need tech and an interrogator. Precision shooting and intimidation are my next highest skills. Quick enough on the subtle clues to back Ziva and I no matter what comes next. I'll give Dornie a shot, he's earned that, but I don't think he's got what we need."
"Between the two of us, Tony and I have charm, evidence gathering, questioning skills, fighting, leadership, explosives—"
"Two-thirds of my explosives team, too. Forgot about that."
"Lock-picking, precision driving, intuition, and tactical planning. We're short a lot of skills if it's just the two of us."
"I can find you your hacker," Tim says. "Either out of Cybercrime or fresh out of FLETC."
Tony looks at Ziva. She nods a little. "FLETC. Get me someone young, who hasn't been around long enough to learn anyone else's bad habits. Filling your shoes is going to be almost impossible, but I've only got two slots, and I can't have someone who's just a desk jockey."
"They graduate in May. One of my classmates is an instructor now, I'll see who he recommends."
Gibbs smirks at Tony, and Tony turns to him, "What?"
"You'll be twenty, maybe twenty-five years older than anyone out of FLETC. Same difference between me and Tim."
Tony winces. "Oh God."
Gibbs nods, looking really smug.
"Were you really Tony's age when I started?"
"I was four years younger."
"I thought you were older than God," Tim said, shaking his head.
"And I was. And if you don't want just Probies on the team, ask for the rosters on the Agents Afloat. One of them might want a land based assignment."
"Burley," Ziva said. "Where is he stationed?"
Tony's eyes lit up. He knew they worked well together, they'd all come out of the Gibbs school of criminal investigating, and Burley knew what they were doing.
Gibbs shook his head. "Running his own team out of Pearl. Don't think he wants to come back here and take a demotion. Really don't think his wife wants to move."
"You could ask him if he's got someone who wants to be on the mainland. Borin's moved up at Coast Guard, maybe she can give you a lead on someone who's not happy there but would be a good fit," Abby suggested.
"Maybe, but if you're not a good fit there, you're probably not going to be a good fit for us, either," Tony says.
"Are you kidding? I'd have been miserable with the Coast Guard, but I'm happy as a clam at NCIS. We do really well with round pegs, go ask her who they've got that's not fitting into their square holes."
"Fornell could give you some names from the FBI as well. Guys who don't quite fit in there might work really well for us," Tim suggests.
"So, you're scouting the best and brightest FLETC has to offer. We're headhunting Coast Guard, NCIS Pearl Harbor and Agents Afloat, and the FBI for talent. And for either side, I'd prefer someone who was a Marine or Sailor," Tony said.
"Monday, I'll make the appointment to talk to Vance about moving on, and send Geoff the email about who we want out of FLETC. Hopefully by June I'll have some people who we can start working with.
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 173
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 173: Passing the Torch
For their fifth bootcamp, Gibbs ended up with two more kids.
He hadn't been expecting Ziva and Breena to show up, but if they wanted to come, he was fine with it. Plus, having Ziva's eyes and skills would make this more effective for everyone. He'd be able to get input from her for training for all three of them, which would be a very good thing.
He was taping up Breena's hands when he asked, "Are you… should you…" He's tripping over the question because it's kind of delicate and he's never actually had a direct conversation with Breena. Sure he's smiled at her, kissed her cheek, offered hugs when congratulations were in order, and told her to do things when that was necessary, and they've been part of the same conversation, but he's never actually spoken with just her.
But she seemed to get what he wasn't asking. "Do you think he'd let me anywhere near this if my doctor didn't say I'm healed up enough for it."
He nods. "Okay. Molly with Abby?"
"Yep. Rumor has it she and Tony are making dinner for the rest of us. Did Abby invite you for dinner?" Gibbs nods. "I'm thinking it might be just her cooking. When we left, Tony was trying to convince Molly she wanted to play games that didn't involve him having to move because he hurts all over."
Gibbs furrows his eyebrows.
Breena understands that he doesn't know why Tony's hurting. "They did yoga yesterday. Tim and Jimmy are fine. Tony pushed too hard."
He nods at that. He's had a few conversations with Tony over the last year along the lines of Tim and Jimmy are a decade younger than he is, in awfully good shape, and if he wants to keep up with them he's got to take better care of himself. "What sort of fighting have you done?"
"I punched a guy in sixth grade." That was about what he was expecting.
"Make a fist."
She did. It didn't look too bad. Someone, and here he's thinking Ed, taught her how to make a fist, and probably how to throw a punch.
"Ziver?"
"Yes, Gibbs."
He pointed to Tim and Jimmy, who also started pay attention to what he was saying. "Watch those two spar. First round, they do whatever they want. Second round, Jimmy, your job is to focus on following where Tim's going. Figure out where he's going to hit you and block him. Tim work on hitting exactly what you're aiming for, right hand or either foot." Jimmy's accuracy was solid at this point, but he was still having a hard time anticipating where a hit was going to come. Meanwhile, Tim had gotten his accuracy up to one hundred percent with his left hand, but right and feet were still iffy, especially on anything other than the first round. "Ziver, by the time they're done, I want a training plan from you for each of them."
Ziva smiled and led the boys to the ring.
"Okay." Gibbs turned his attention back to Breena. "You sure you want to be here?"
She looked very determined. "Do you think I'm any less angry, less sad, or less frustrated than he is?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head.
"Do you think I shouldn't be able to try and beat it out?"
"No."
"Then why are you asking? Because I'm cute and a girl?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm done sitting at home and crying. Taking down that wall felt good, going to the range felt good, and this might too, and maybe it won't help, but I've got to try."
"It'll help, maybe not enough, but it'll help. Come on." Gibbs led her to one of the punching bags. "Show me what you've got."
She looked at him, eyebrows high, apparently she'd been expecting something else. "Just hit it?"
"Yep. Hard as you like. Right now I just want to see you throw a punch."
So she did. Walloped it. No control. No finesse. Lots of anger, lots of force.
"How's your arm?"
"Shoulder hurts, wrist hurts."
Gibbs nods. "Watch." He made a fist and punched the bag. He didn't tape up his own hands because he didn't think he was going to be doing any punching, so he doesn't put much force into it. Then he put her hands on his hips, which startled her, and punched again. "Feel what I'm doing?"
"Yeah."
He did it again, slowly, very little force, with her hands on his shoulders, elbow, and then his wrist. "Now you."
She hit again, very hard, but this time her form was a lot better.
"Hurt?"
"Not as much."
"Good. Now, do it slow and do it right. When you've got your form mastered on your right arm, we'll move to your left, and once you've got it down, then you can beat on anything you want as hard as you want as long as you want. Until then, soft, slow, easy." He cocks his head at Tim and Jimmy. "Just because those two idiots were dumb enough to beat each other into a pulp does not mean hurting yourself is a good idea."
She smiled a little at that, and then focused on the punching bag and hit it, slowly, but her form was perfect.
Gibbs nodded, small smile on his face. "Keep doing that. I'm going to see how your man's doing."
He stands next to Ziva, who's leaning against the ropes watching Tim and Jimmy intently.
"You suggested she come?"
"Jimmy suggested she go shooting with them. Apparently that went well. Tearing down the wall went well, too. So now she is here. When I heard she was coming, I suggested coming with her so she would have someone to spar with. Neither of them will fight her."
Gibbs kept an eye on them while Jimmy ducked under Tim's punch and got him in the ribs with his elbow. "Probably a good plan."
Ziva watched them spar for another thirty seconds, Tim sweeping Jimmy's legs out from under him, and nodded. "Neither of them has enough control to fight someone without possibly injuring them."
"Yep."
"What sort of training plan do you want for them?"
"Little bit of everything. Started elbows and knees with Jimmy last week. Still working on fist and foot with Tim. He's better on defense. Jimmy's better attacking."
"I can see that. McGee usually wins?"
"Usually. They fight until one of them hits the canvas. Tim wears him down, defending, and then takes his legs out from under him. Jimmy still can't tell when he's not really going to punch and is about to trip him. How about when they finish their next round you and I show them how to really do this?"
"You want to fight me?" Ziva's shocked. They've never sparred before.
Gibbs grinned.
"You sure?"
He nodded.
"Okay. Rules?"
"No eyes, no balls." He didn't expect to be fighting today, so he didn't bring a cup, and he'd really prefer not getting nailed.
"I can do that."
There are a few things Gibbs knows going into this fight, the most important of them is that he is going to lose.
There was a time when he could have probably taken Ziva David.
But that time was twenty years ago, when he was as fast as she is and could use his size to his advantage. Now, he's too slow. He knows it. Has been too slow for a long time. And while it's true that age and guile beat youth and innocence, age and guile lose when they go up against youth, guile, experience, and superior training.
There's a reason why he's never actually sparred with Ziva before. Kate, sure, he sparred with her, because he knew he could take her, and that was that. But he saw Ziva David walk in, saw her moves and confidence, and knew he couldn't take her down without a gun, and knew that'd look awfully bad for his position.
So they've never sparred. As the Team Leader, part of his job is to be God on Earth, unassailable and unchallengeable. None of the three of them could ever see him go down. When he got to the point where he wasn't entirely sure he could still keep taking Tony down in hand to hand, he stopped making them do bootcamp.
But it's March. In ten months Tony'll be the Team Leader. Tim'll be moving along soon, too. There are other employees around the gym, and it's time to get the word out that the balance of power in the MCRT is shifting.
Ziva's their combat specialist. She's their fighter. And, honestly… he'd almost rather promote her to Team Leader. It's not anything against Tony. He's earned the position many times over and he's a great cop, with very good instincts, but Ziva's a little more focused, more dedicated, and a lot more dangerous. Basically, Tony's the better cop, but Ziva's the better leader. Ultimately, he'd like to see them share the leadership position, and he hopes that's how they'll handle it.
But for now, it's time to pass at least some of it on. And as he thinks about it, he does need to have a long chat with Tony and Tim and Ziva about what's coming up next year. They've got to start looking for replacements, getting a plan in order.
But all of that is for later.
The guys are finishing up. Breena's already come over to watch them, and Ziva wants to know if he'd like to tape up his hands.
He nodded, and she taped up his hands. He looks at her untaped hands, offering to tape her up, and she just shakes her head.
"No eyes." He's seen what she does with her fingers in a fight, and he wants to make sure they're clear.
"No eyes, no balls, and I will not touch your throat, either."
He sighed, sees Tim and Jimmy watching them, looking both amazed and a little scared, and gestures to the ring for Ziva. She headed in, and waited for him.
"Pay attention. This is what it looks like when someone who knows what she's doing fights. Anything she's willing to teach you, you learn." Tim, Jimmy, and Breena all nodded.
Gibbs' time sense slows down when he fights. That's always been true. It's part of what made him a good sniper, he could slow things down, see what was happening and anticipate what would happen next and then pull the trigger. But even slowed down, she is shockingly fast.
He's just trying to keep standing long enough to not be horrendously embarrassed. He got three solid hits on her and a few near misses when she did this thing where she was standing on one foot, kicked at his head with the other, forcing him to dodge back, shifting his weight onto one leg, and while her foot was whispering a quarter inch from his temple she hooked her forearm behind his weight-bearing knee and yanked hard, toppling him to the canvas.
His ears were ringing a little when he hit, but he was fairly sure the entire gym had gone silent at that. He knows Jimmy, Tim, and Breena were just staring at them, eyes wide and beyond shocked.
Ziva offered him a hand up, and he took it, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek, big, fond smile on his face.
"Jimmy, how do you defend against that?" Gibbs asked. If he's going to get his ass kicked, they're going to learn from it.
"Don't get into a fight with Ziva."
That got a dry smile out of Gibbs. "Tim?"
"My Sig. I don't get into fist fights with people who can kick my ass that badly."
"Overkill. Breena?"
"One second you were standing up, the next you were on the canvas. I have no idea what happened in between."
"You're going to learn how to watch a fight so you can see what happened. Ziva?"
"Catch my foot up by your head and push backward. It's possible we both would have gone down. I may have gotten the hold I needed on his knee, but my balance was far enough off that it definitely would have taken me down." She turned away from Gibbs to speak to the other three. "I spent the first minute learning exactly how fast Gibbs is. The kick/grapple combination I took him down with takes split second timing, and after the first minute I was sure he couldn't match that speed, so I was safe to try it."
Gibbs nods at that. "Ziva, you're with Jimmy, you attack, he defends. These two are going to watch. Breena's gonna tell me what's happening. Tim's gonna tell me what to do about it."
"Come on, Jimmy," Ziva said. He ducked under the ropes, looking pretty nervous. "If you have a choice between defending or attacking, you want to defend. The defender has the advantage of responding. This is why, even though it looks like you are actually the better fighter, McGee keeps dropping you…"
Next
Chapter 173: Passing the Torch
For their fifth bootcamp, Gibbs ended up with two more kids.
He hadn't been expecting Ziva and Breena to show up, but if they wanted to come, he was fine with it. Plus, having Ziva's eyes and skills would make this more effective for everyone. He'd be able to get input from her for training for all three of them, which would be a very good thing.
He was taping up Breena's hands when he asked, "Are you… should you…" He's tripping over the question because it's kind of delicate and he's never actually had a direct conversation with Breena. Sure he's smiled at her, kissed her cheek, offered hugs when congratulations were in order, and told her to do things when that was necessary, and they've been part of the same conversation, but he's never actually spoken with just her.
But she seemed to get what he wasn't asking. "Do you think he'd let me anywhere near this if my doctor didn't say I'm healed up enough for it."
He nods. "Okay. Molly with Abby?"
"Yep. Rumor has it she and Tony are making dinner for the rest of us. Did Abby invite you for dinner?" Gibbs nods. "I'm thinking it might be just her cooking. When we left, Tony was trying to convince Molly she wanted to play games that didn't involve him having to move because he hurts all over."
Gibbs furrows his eyebrows.
Breena understands that he doesn't know why Tony's hurting. "They did yoga yesterday. Tim and Jimmy are fine. Tony pushed too hard."
He nods at that. He's had a few conversations with Tony over the last year along the lines of Tim and Jimmy are a decade younger than he is, in awfully good shape, and if he wants to keep up with them he's got to take better care of himself. "What sort of fighting have you done?"
"I punched a guy in sixth grade." That was about what he was expecting.
"Make a fist."
She did. It didn't look too bad. Someone, and here he's thinking Ed, taught her how to make a fist, and probably how to throw a punch.
"Ziver?"
"Yes, Gibbs."
He pointed to Tim and Jimmy, who also started pay attention to what he was saying. "Watch those two spar. First round, they do whatever they want. Second round, Jimmy, your job is to focus on following where Tim's going. Figure out where he's going to hit you and block him. Tim work on hitting exactly what you're aiming for, right hand or either foot." Jimmy's accuracy was solid at this point, but he was still having a hard time anticipating where a hit was going to come. Meanwhile, Tim had gotten his accuracy up to one hundred percent with his left hand, but right and feet were still iffy, especially on anything other than the first round. "Ziver, by the time they're done, I want a training plan from you for each of them."
Ziva smiled and led the boys to the ring.
"Okay." Gibbs turned his attention back to Breena. "You sure you want to be here?"
She looked very determined. "Do you think I'm any less angry, less sad, or less frustrated than he is?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head.
"Do you think I shouldn't be able to try and beat it out?"
"No."
"Then why are you asking? Because I'm cute and a girl?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm done sitting at home and crying. Taking down that wall felt good, going to the range felt good, and this might too, and maybe it won't help, but I've got to try."
"It'll help, maybe not enough, but it'll help. Come on." Gibbs led her to one of the punching bags. "Show me what you've got."
She looked at him, eyebrows high, apparently she'd been expecting something else. "Just hit it?"
"Yep. Hard as you like. Right now I just want to see you throw a punch."
So she did. Walloped it. No control. No finesse. Lots of anger, lots of force.
"How's your arm?"
"Shoulder hurts, wrist hurts."
Gibbs nods. "Watch." He made a fist and punched the bag. He didn't tape up his own hands because he didn't think he was going to be doing any punching, so he doesn't put much force into it. Then he put her hands on his hips, which startled her, and punched again. "Feel what I'm doing?"
"Yeah."
He did it again, slowly, very little force, with her hands on his shoulders, elbow, and then his wrist. "Now you."
She hit again, very hard, but this time her form was a lot better.
"Hurt?"
"Not as much."
"Good. Now, do it slow and do it right. When you've got your form mastered on your right arm, we'll move to your left, and once you've got it down, then you can beat on anything you want as hard as you want as long as you want. Until then, soft, slow, easy." He cocks his head at Tim and Jimmy. "Just because those two idiots were dumb enough to beat each other into a pulp does not mean hurting yourself is a good idea."
She smiled a little at that, and then focused on the punching bag and hit it, slowly, but her form was perfect.
Gibbs nodded, small smile on his face. "Keep doing that. I'm going to see how your man's doing."
He stands next to Ziva, who's leaning against the ropes watching Tim and Jimmy intently."You suggested she come?"
"Jimmy suggested she go shooting with them. Apparently that went well. Tearing down the wall went well, too. So now she is here. When I heard she was coming, I suggested coming with her so she would have someone to spar with. Neither of them will fight her."
Gibbs kept an eye on them while Jimmy ducked under Tim's punch and got him in the ribs with his elbow. "Probably a good plan."
Ziva watched them spar for another thirty seconds, Tim sweeping Jimmy's legs out from under him, and nodded. "Neither of them has enough control to fight someone without possibly injuring them."
"Yep."
"What sort of training plan do you want for them?"
"Little bit of everything. Started elbows and knees with Jimmy last week. Still working on fist and foot with Tim. He's better on defense. Jimmy's better attacking."
"I can see that. McGee usually wins?"
"Usually. They fight until one of them hits the canvas. Tim wears him down, defending, and then takes his legs out from under him. Jimmy still can't tell when he's not really going to punch and is about to trip him. How about when they finish their next round you and I show them how to really do this?"
"You want to fight me?" Ziva's shocked. They've never sparred before.
Gibbs grinned.
"You sure?"
He nodded.
"Okay. Rules?"
"No eyes, no balls." He didn't expect to be fighting today, so he didn't bring a cup, and he'd really prefer not getting nailed.
"I can do that."
There are a few things Gibbs knows going into this fight, the most important of them is that he is going to lose.
There was a time when he could have probably taken Ziva David.
But that time was twenty years ago, when he was as fast as she is and could use his size to his advantage. Now, he's too slow. He knows it. Has been too slow for a long time. And while it's true that age and guile beat youth and innocence, age and guile lose when they go up against youth, guile, experience, and superior training.
There's a reason why he's never actually sparred with Ziva before. Kate, sure, he sparred with her, because he knew he could take her, and that was that. But he saw Ziva David walk in, saw her moves and confidence, and knew he couldn't take her down without a gun, and knew that'd look awfully bad for his position.
So they've never sparred. As the Team Leader, part of his job is to be God on Earth, unassailable and unchallengeable. None of the three of them could ever see him go down. When he got to the point where he wasn't entirely sure he could still keep taking Tony down in hand to hand, he stopped making them do bootcamp.
But it's March. In ten months Tony'll be the Team Leader. Tim'll be moving along soon, too. There are other employees around the gym, and it's time to get the word out that the balance of power in the MCRT is shifting.
Ziva's their combat specialist. She's their fighter. And, honestly… he'd almost rather promote her to Team Leader. It's not anything against Tony. He's earned the position many times over and he's a great cop, with very good instincts, but Ziva's a little more focused, more dedicated, and a lot more dangerous. Basically, Tony's the better cop, but Ziva's the better leader. Ultimately, he'd like to see them share the leadership position, and he hopes that's how they'll handle it.
But for now, it's time to pass at least some of it on. And as he thinks about it, he does need to have a long chat with Tony and Tim and Ziva about what's coming up next year. They've got to start looking for replacements, getting a plan in order.
But all of that is for later.
The guys are finishing up. Breena's already come over to watch them, and Ziva wants to know if he'd like to tape up his hands.
He nodded, and she taped up his hands. He looks at her untaped hands, offering to tape her up, and she just shakes her head.
"No eyes." He's seen what she does with her fingers in a fight, and he wants to make sure they're clear.
"No eyes, no balls, and I will not touch your throat, either."
He sighed, sees Tim and Jimmy watching them, looking both amazed and a little scared, and gestures to the ring for Ziva. She headed in, and waited for him.
"Pay attention. This is what it looks like when someone who knows what she's doing fights. Anything she's willing to teach you, you learn." Tim, Jimmy, and Breena all nodded.
Gibbs' time sense slows down when he fights. That's always been true. It's part of what made him a good sniper, he could slow things down, see what was happening and anticipate what would happen next and then pull the trigger. But even slowed down, she is shockingly fast.
He's just trying to keep standing long enough to not be horrendously embarrassed. He got three solid hits on her and a few near misses when she did this thing where she was standing on one foot, kicked at his head with the other, forcing him to dodge back, shifting his weight onto one leg, and while her foot was whispering a quarter inch from his temple she hooked her forearm behind his weight-bearing knee and yanked hard, toppling him to the canvas.
His ears were ringing a little when he hit, but he was fairly sure the entire gym had gone silent at that. He knows Jimmy, Tim, and Breena were just staring at them, eyes wide and beyond shocked.
Ziva offered him a hand up, and he took it, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek, big, fond smile on his face.
"Jimmy, how do you defend against that?" Gibbs asked. If he's going to get his ass kicked, they're going to learn from it.
"Don't get into a fight with Ziva."
That got a dry smile out of Gibbs. "Tim?"
"My Sig. I don't get into fist fights with people who can kick my ass that badly."
"Overkill. Breena?"
"One second you were standing up, the next you were on the canvas. I have no idea what happened in between."
"You're going to learn how to watch a fight so you can see what happened. Ziva?"
"Catch my foot up by your head and push backward. It's possible we both would have gone down. I may have gotten the hold I needed on his knee, but my balance was far enough off that it definitely would have taken me down." She turned away from Gibbs to speak to the other three. "I spent the first minute learning exactly how fast Gibbs is. The kick/grapple combination I took him down with takes split second timing, and after the first minute I was sure he couldn't match that speed, so I was safe to try it."
Gibbs nods at that. "Ziva, you're with Jimmy, you attack, he defends. These two are going to watch. Breena's gonna tell me what's happening. Tim's gonna tell me what to do about it."
"Come on, Jimmy," Ziva said. He ducked under the ropes, looking pretty nervous. "If you have a choice between defending or attacking, you want to defend. The defender has the advantage of responding. This is why, even though it looks like you are actually the better fighter, McGee keeps dropping you…"
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 172
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 172: Coffee or Why Jimmy's Got Game
They got coffee after. Well, they went to a coffee shop, but all three of them got cold drinks. Tim's thinking that even after drinking the whole bottle of water he brought with him, refilling it, drinking that, and spending a good ten minutes just letting cold water run over him, that he's still a few quarts low on his hydration.
"So, Abby got a Groupon for that?" Tony asked as he sat down, heavily, looking like he was fairly sure he was never, ever going to move again.
"Yeah, back before she got pregnant. The original idea was to do it with him. But pregnant means she shouldn't get her temperature over 102, and it's 105 in there."
link"We'd go do yoga day once a month or so; Breena usually comes, too." Jimmy got out his phone and showed them a shot of him and Abby posing at the last place, then flicked to the shot of the girls together, and one of the three of them. "This was last time. Haven't done Bikram in years, but that was fun. After McSciuto's on the outside, we'll have to do that again."
"I'm volunteering for babysitting duty right here and now," Tony says, face serious.
"You really hated that, didn't you?" Jimmy says, shaking his head. He'd had a really good time, and managed to go two full hours without thinking about anything Trisomy or Jon related.
"Jimmy, parts of me I didn't know existed hurt on a cellular level right now. Each and every single nerve in both thighs are screaming at me."
"You didn't have to go quite that gung ho on it. Part of the idea is patience and easing into the poses," Jimmy answers.
Tony took a sip of his shake, shaking his head, obviously Jimmy's never spent any time with anyone who was ever serious about competitive athletics. Ease into it. Tony sighs and changes the topic a little. "So… Abby and Breena can do that?"
"Some of it," Tim replies. She's not as into it as Jimmy is, and he's got no idea how devoted to yoga Breena is.
"Breena's really bendy," Jimmy says with a fairly dirty smile on his face.
Tim grins. "So's Abby."
"Huh." Tony appears to be grasping some of the reason why you might want your spouse to be into yoga, even if you're under the impression that it's some sort of torture.
"Ziva's pretty flexible, too, right?" Jimmy asks.
"Oh, yeah. She likes… pilates. So, why did you start doing it?" Tony asks Tim. They both know Jimmy started in college after he was diagnosed with diabetes.
"Found out on my honeymoon that there are some benefits to being flexible."
Jimmy sits there, nodding, looking really smug.
"Like what kind of benefits?" At the beginning of the class Jamie had gone over the "benefits" of yoga, and Tony's pretty damn sure neither McGee or Palmer would be looking that smug if they were thinking about blood pressure, stress relief, or better posture.
"Have sex when you get home, see how it feels," Tim says with a smile.
"McGee, I hurt all over. The last thing I want to do when I get home is move."
"Then don't. Lay back and let her do you. It'll be worth it."
Tony stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed, while Jimmy nods and grins, saying, "The looser you start off, the more you can ramp the tension up, the harder you'll come."
Tim turns to Jimmy quickly. "Wait, Abby said she read that. Did you tell her that?"
"Yeah. She might have read it, too. I gave her some of my books five-six years ago. She finally test that out on you?"
"Uh huh."
"Good?" Jimmy asks.
"I'm doing yoga, and kept doing it even when she was sleeping every possible minute instead of doing it with me. Yeah, it's good."
"How did you even learn stuff like this?" Tony asks.
Jimmy shrugs. "Cosmo. Back when I was dating Melissa," he sees that Tim and Tony don't know who that is, so he clarifies, "in college, I saw one of hers, read something on Tantric sex, decided that was worth looking into further, and well, fifteen years later, I'm pretty good at yoga."
"I thought you started yoga after you got sick," Tony says.
"I did. I was dating her after I got sick. Look, Breena was with us when I said that, and it is true that I got interested in it and started doing it about eight months after I was diagnosed with diabetes. Just, diabetes wasn't precisely the motivating factor for why I started or why I kept doing it."
"You like tantric sex?" Tim asks. He's familiar with the idea, but hasn't felt any need to try it out, too much religion-y stuff to be really attractive to him.
"Meh." Jimmy wiggles his hand to indicate it was so-so. "Tried it, but never got into it much. Don't get me wrong, the positions are interesting, and the increased strength and flexibility are very good things, plus it was the first thing I ran into that really got into the idea of sex as an art, which I really did like, but I don't believe in Chakras, and don't feel any need to try and meditate during sex, I mean, I like to be paying attention to the sex when I'm having sex, so that part of it wasn't doing anything for me."
"Sex as an art?" Tony asks.
"Sure," Jimmy's nodding away at this. "I can't paint, write, or sculpt to save my life, but I'm a damn good lay. And I got that way because I studied and practiced. You weren't just born great at basketball, right?"
"I was born good at basketball."
"And then you really worked at it to get a whole lot better?"
"Yep."
"Well, on raw talent alone, I'm good at sex. And, in some ways almost dying was a very good thing for me, because it helped me figure out what was important to me and what and who I wanted to be. But I was also twenty, so basically, what I really wanted to do was have a ton of sex. And look, I was built like Tim, kind of tall and scrawny—"
"Hey!"
"Tim, you look a lot better than you did this time last year, and a ton better than this time two years ago, but you've got a ways to go."
"No I don't. I'm healthy. I look fine. I get enough exercise to keep me quick and limber and eat well enough to keep me trim. I do not need to be so cut that you can use me as muscular anatomy display."
Jimmy just sort of shrugs. "Anyway, I knew I was always going to be kind of goofy and a little awkward, and that I was never going to be broad shouldered or classically handsome, so I'd never be really hot at getting a woman in the first place, but I also figured that if I got great at sex, and looked really good naked, the chances of a girl deciding to sleep with me a second time would raise dramatically. And having sex a whole lot with one girl would work perfectly for my goal of getting laid a lot. So I read up and practiced. And suddenly, I was getting laid a whole lot more. Especially in college and my early twenties when the rest of the guys my age were still clueless. I've been shot down left, right, and any other direction you can imagine, but since I decided sex was worth studying and learning how to get good at, no girl I've been with has refused a second date."
"None of them?" Tim's kicking himself for not having figured that out on his own. Once Jimmy said it, it was blindingly obvious, but that was an idea that never crossed his mind. Yeah, he did eventually get good, but he was a hell of a lot closer to thirty than twenty, and really it wasn't until he started dating Abby again that he had the opportunity to really learn another person well enough to jump from good to great.
"None. Not saying I've never been dumped, but date one has always lead to dates two, three, four and on."
"So, you really did dump Lee?" Tony asks. Sure, he heard about it. And yes, Lee was using Palmer, but even with all of that, he never really believed that Jimmy ended it.
"Yeah, I really did. Look, I'm not going to say I minded the sex, because, I mean… it was great sex, and who doesn't like that? But I wanted more than to be her weekly booty call. I love sex, but I love women too, and I wanted the whole package. Getting off at work is great, but I was still going home to an empty apartment, and that wasn't."
Tony takes another drink of his shake and just stares at Jimmy for a long minute, like he's really not sure he wants to ask this or not, but finally he does. "Okay, so how do you get good at sex if you don't have any pickup skills? Isn't step one find a woman to do it with you?"
"Nah. Don't get me wrong, you can read until your eyes fall out and you're never going to figure it out without a girl around, but still, step one isn't grab the first available girl. Step one was learn anatomy and some basic technique. Step two was read things girls write for themselves—"
"I told you that!" Tim says to Tony. "He saw me reading Ms and couldn't figure out why I'd do that."
"I told you that if you wanted to get to know more about women, you needed to get to know some women," Tony says.
"I'm close to my mom, sister, grandmother, my best friend was a girl, and one of my partners was a girl. I wanted to know about the stuff they wouldn't tell me."
Jimmy nods in agreement with that. "Women will not tell you that you can't find a clit, even with a flashlight and GPS. They won't tell you your technique sucks. They really won't tell you how they like to be kissed or touched. They expect you to magically know that stuff. What they will do is complain to each other about the fact that you suck at sex. And if you read them complaining, you start to pick up some tips real fast. And if you want expert level tips, go find erotica written for girls, by girls, preferably lesbians, and pay attention. Then, once you've got that set, you go find a real girl, and you start playing, and you pay even more attention to how she responds to what you're doing. I have had women compliment me because I can actually figure out when what I'm doing isn't working, like it's some sort of magic trick, and it's really not difficult, you've just got to get your brain doing the thinking. But especially in college, that made me the wizard of sex."
Tim laughs at that. Back in college and grad school his brain generally wasn't involved in sex at all. It was certainly very interested in it, but tended to check out once the actual sex happened.
"So, you're what, sitting in your girl's room, and you just pick up her Cosmo and read it?" Tony asks.
"Yeah, pretty much. I'd finished my homework, she was still working on hers, I hadn't brought anything else to read, and it's Cosmo, so it's got a three-quarters naked women on the cover next to a headline that reads something like 117 Tips to Make Him Come So Hard His Ears Melt—"
"Those things are always so overrated," Tim adds.
"They really are. I don't think any of the girls who write those things have ever had sex with an actual man."
Tony's just looking at them like they're both some sort of strange insect and he's not sure if he wants to study them or run away shrieking.
But Jimmy just continues on, "So, I was all in favor of coming so hard my ears melted, so I got reading. And yeah, dumb tips, a girl tries to rub my dick between her wrists like she's starting a fire, especially without lube, and I'm getting the hell out of there."
"What?!" Tony says, stunned, holding his wrists in front of him, about two inches apart, staring in stupefaction.
"Really dumb tips," Tim says as he nods. "You know, the 117 Ways to Make Her Come So Hard Her Ears Melt things they have in Maxim or Men's Health might be just as bad." Tim's seen Tony's copies of those magazines, but never been bored enough to read one.
"Nope." Tony's pretty certain about that.
"Nope? You know for sure?" Jimmy asks. Last time he read a Maxim he was in college, and like the Cosmo he thought there were lots of sexy pictures and not much worth reading inside.
"Ziva reads Maxim as well, and she's let me know which ones are good and which aren't."
"Ah. Well, anyway, I'm reading her Cosmo, enjoying the pictures, seriously that thing's like soft porn, laughing really hard at the suggestions, and a few pages later I found the stuff on Tantric sex, and that actually looked good, but it was only three pages long, so off to the library I went, and a few inter-library loans and two weeks later, I had some stuff worth reading, and a girlfriend who was actually pretty interested in seeing what we could do with it."
"Twenty-year-old-you walks up to the counter at the library and asks them to put sex books on hold for you?" Tim asks. Twenty-year-old Tim McGee would have spontaneously combusted if he tried to ask for help finding sex books.
"Twenty-year-old-me was bound and determined to get great at sex. Plus the girl at the counter was a freshman and really cute, so I practiced my flirting technique. She still thought I was a dork, and probably a pervert, but I got the books I was looking for. And then I had a whole lot of fun with them. I wasn't flexible or strong enough for a lot of the stuff in there, so next semester I signed up for the yoga gym class and have been doing it regularly since." Jimmy drinks some of his iced tea and stretches. "I should probably be getting home soon."
Tim checks his watch, it's a little after one. "Yeah. Bootcamp tomorrow?"
"See you then." Jimmy stood and headed off.
Tony took another sip of his shake. "I am so glad I'm not doing that tomorrow. I'm going home, filling the bathtub with cold water and ice, and not moving for a week."
"If you're hurting that bad, your body may be telling you more exercise is in order."
"What it's telling me is that I'm forty-eight and trying to become a pretzel is a bad plan. I don't feel like this after jogging or sparring."
"It was for a good cause. He didn't check his phone once the whole time we were out."
"I know. And I could see he was really smiling when we were talking. After I get back from my honeymoon, we'll bring Ziva and Breena and do it again."
"Good."
"Why couldn't you two be basketball fans? You know, normal guys do things like go to a game."
"This is better for you."
"Yeah." Tony got up very slowly and began limping toward the door.
"Did you really hurt yourself?" Tim asked, yeah, he's sore; he knows he did something that's not part of his usual routine, but he's not aching.
"I hope not."
Next
Chapter 172: Coffee or Why Jimmy's Got Game
They got coffee after. Well, they went to a coffee shop, but all three of them got cold drinks. Tim's thinking that even after drinking the whole bottle of water he brought with him, refilling it, drinking that, and spending a good ten minutes just letting cold water run over him, that he's still a few quarts low on his hydration.
"So, Abby got a Groupon for that?" Tony asked as he sat down, heavily, looking like he was fairly sure he was never, ever going to move again.
"Yeah, back before she got pregnant. The original idea was to do it with him. But pregnant means she shouldn't get her temperature over 102, and it's 105 in there."
link"We'd go do yoga day once a month or so; Breena usually comes, too." Jimmy got out his phone and showed them a shot of him and Abby posing at the last place, then flicked to the shot of the girls together, and one of the three of them. "This was last time. Haven't done Bikram in years, but that was fun. After McSciuto's on the outside, we'll have to do that again.""I'm volunteering for babysitting duty right here and now," Tony says, face serious.
"You really hated that, didn't you?" Jimmy says, shaking his head. He'd had a really good time, and managed to go two full hours without thinking about anything Trisomy or Jon related.
"Jimmy, parts of me I didn't know existed hurt on a cellular level right now. Each and every single nerve in both thighs are screaming at me."
"You didn't have to go quite that gung ho on it. Part of the idea is patience and easing into the poses," Jimmy answers.
Tony took a sip of his shake, shaking his head, obviously Jimmy's never spent any time with anyone who was ever serious about competitive athletics. Ease into it. Tony sighs and changes the topic a little. "So… Abby and Breena can do that?"
"Some of it," Tim replies. She's not as into it as Jimmy is, and he's got no idea how devoted to yoga Breena is.
"Breena's really bendy," Jimmy says with a fairly dirty smile on his face.
Tim grins. "So's Abby."
"Huh." Tony appears to be grasping some of the reason why you might want your spouse to be into yoga, even if you're under the impression that it's some sort of torture.
"Ziva's pretty flexible, too, right?" Jimmy asks.
"Oh, yeah. She likes… pilates. So, why did you start doing it?" Tony asks Tim. They both know Jimmy started in college after he was diagnosed with diabetes.
"Found out on my honeymoon that there are some benefits to being flexible."
Jimmy sits there, nodding, looking really smug.
"Like what kind of benefits?" At the beginning of the class Jamie had gone over the "benefits" of yoga, and Tony's pretty damn sure neither McGee or Palmer would be looking that smug if they were thinking about blood pressure, stress relief, or better posture.
"Have sex when you get home, see how it feels," Tim says with a smile.
"McGee, I hurt all over. The last thing I want to do when I get home is move."
"Then don't. Lay back and let her do you. It'll be worth it."
Tony stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed, while Jimmy nods and grins, saying, "The looser you start off, the more you can ramp the tension up, the harder you'll come."
Tim turns to Jimmy quickly. "Wait, Abby said she read that. Did you tell her that?"
"Yeah. She might have read it, too. I gave her some of my books five-six years ago. She finally test that out on you?"
"Uh huh."
"Good?" Jimmy asks.
"I'm doing yoga, and kept doing it even when she was sleeping every possible minute instead of doing it with me. Yeah, it's good."
"How did you even learn stuff like this?" Tony asks.
Jimmy shrugs. "Cosmo. Back when I was dating Melissa," he sees that Tim and Tony don't know who that is, so he clarifies, "in college, I saw one of hers, read something on Tantric sex, decided that was worth looking into further, and well, fifteen years later, I'm pretty good at yoga."
"I thought you started yoga after you got sick," Tony says.
"I did. I was dating her after I got sick. Look, Breena was with us when I said that, and it is true that I got interested in it and started doing it about eight months after I was diagnosed with diabetes. Just, diabetes wasn't precisely the motivating factor for why I started or why I kept doing it."
"You like tantric sex?" Tim asks. He's familiar with the idea, but hasn't felt any need to try it out, too much religion-y stuff to be really attractive to him.
"Meh." Jimmy wiggles his hand to indicate it was so-so. "Tried it, but never got into it much. Don't get me wrong, the positions are interesting, and the increased strength and flexibility are very good things, plus it was the first thing I ran into that really got into the idea of sex as an art, which I really did like, but I don't believe in Chakras, and don't feel any need to try and meditate during sex, I mean, I like to be paying attention to the sex when I'm having sex, so that part of it wasn't doing anything for me."
"Sex as an art?" Tony asks.
"Sure," Jimmy's nodding away at this. "I can't paint, write, or sculpt to save my life, but I'm a damn good lay. And I got that way because I studied and practiced. You weren't just born great at basketball, right?"
"I was born good at basketball."
"And then you really worked at it to get a whole lot better?"
"Yep."
"Well, on raw talent alone, I'm good at sex. And, in some ways almost dying was a very good thing for me, because it helped me figure out what was important to me and what and who I wanted to be. But I was also twenty, so basically, what I really wanted to do was have a ton of sex. And look, I was built like Tim, kind of tall and scrawny—"
"Hey!"
"Tim, you look a lot better than you did this time last year, and a ton better than this time two years ago, but you've got a ways to go."
"No I don't. I'm healthy. I look fine. I get enough exercise to keep me quick and limber and eat well enough to keep me trim. I do not need to be so cut that you can use me as muscular anatomy display."
Jimmy just sort of shrugs. "Anyway, I knew I was always going to be kind of goofy and a little awkward, and that I was never going to be broad shouldered or classically handsome, so I'd never be really hot at getting a woman in the first place, but I also figured that if I got great at sex, and looked really good naked, the chances of a girl deciding to sleep with me a second time would raise dramatically. And having sex a whole lot with one girl would work perfectly for my goal of getting laid a lot. So I read up and practiced. And suddenly, I was getting laid a whole lot more. Especially in college and my early twenties when the rest of the guys my age were still clueless. I've been shot down left, right, and any other direction you can imagine, but since I decided sex was worth studying and learning how to get good at, no girl I've been with has refused a second date."
"None of them?" Tim's kicking himself for not having figured that out on his own. Once Jimmy said it, it was blindingly obvious, but that was an idea that never crossed his mind. Yeah, he did eventually get good, but he was a hell of a lot closer to thirty than twenty, and really it wasn't until he started dating Abby again that he had the opportunity to really learn another person well enough to jump from good to great.
"None. Not saying I've never been dumped, but date one has always lead to dates two, three, four and on."
"So, you really did dump Lee?" Tony asks. Sure, he heard about it. And yes, Lee was using Palmer, but even with all of that, he never really believed that Jimmy ended it.
"Yeah, I really did. Look, I'm not going to say I minded the sex, because, I mean… it was great sex, and who doesn't like that? But I wanted more than to be her weekly booty call. I love sex, but I love women too, and I wanted the whole package. Getting off at work is great, but I was still going home to an empty apartment, and that wasn't."
Tony takes another drink of his shake and just stares at Jimmy for a long minute, like he's really not sure he wants to ask this or not, but finally he does. "Okay, so how do you get good at sex if you don't have any pickup skills? Isn't step one find a woman to do it with you?"
"Nah. Don't get me wrong, you can read until your eyes fall out and you're never going to figure it out without a girl around, but still, step one isn't grab the first available girl. Step one was learn anatomy and some basic technique. Step two was read things girls write for themselves—"
"I told you that!" Tim says to Tony. "He saw me reading Ms and couldn't figure out why I'd do that."
"I told you that if you wanted to get to know more about women, you needed to get to know some women," Tony says.
"I'm close to my mom, sister, grandmother, my best friend was a girl, and one of my partners was a girl. I wanted to know about the stuff they wouldn't tell me."
Jimmy nods in agreement with that. "Women will not tell you that you can't find a clit, even with a flashlight and GPS. They won't tell you your technique sucks. They really won't tell you how they like to be kissed or touched. They expect you to magically know that stuff. What they will do is complain to each other about the fact that you suck at sex. And if you read them complaining, you start to pick up some tips real fast. And if you want expert level tips, go find erotica written for girls, by girls, preferably lesbians, and pay attention. Then, once you've got that set, you go find a real girl, and you start playing, and you pay even more attention to how she responds to what you're doing. I have had women compliment me because I can actually figure out when what I'm doing isn't working, like it's some sort of magic trick, and it's really not difficult, you've just got to get your brain doing the thinking. But especially in college, that made me the wizard of sex."
Tim laughs at that. Back in college and grad school his brain generally wasn't involved in sex at all. It was certainly very interested in it, but tended to check out once the actual sex happened.
"So, you're what, sitting in your girl's room, and you just pick up her Cosmo and read it?" Tony asks.
"Yeah, pretty much. I'd finished my homework, she was still working on hers, I hadn't brought anything else to read, and it's Cosmo, so it's got a three-quarters naked women on the cover next to a headline that reads something like 117 Tips to Make Him Come So Hard His Ears Melt—"
"Those things are always so overrated," Tim adds.
"They really are. I don't think any of the girls who write those things have ever had sex with an actual man."
Tony's just looking at them like they're both some sort of strange insect and he's not sure if he wants to study them or run away shrieking.
But Jimmy just continues on, "So, I was all in favor of coming so hard my ears melted, so I got reading. And yeah, dumb tips, a girl tries to rub my dick between her wrists like she's starting a fire, especially without lube, and I'm getting the hell out of there."
"What?!" Tony says, stunned, holding his wrists in front of him, about two inches apart, staring in stupefaction.
"Really dumb tips," Tim says as he nods. "You know, the 117 Ways to Make Her Come So Hard Her Ears Melt things they have in Maxim or Men's Health might be just as bad." Tim's seen Tony's copies of those magazines, but never been bored enough to read one.
"Nope." Tony's pretty certain about that.
"Nope? You know for sure?" Jimmy asks. Last time he read a Maxim he was in college, and like the Cosmo he thought there were lots of sexy pictures and not much worth reading inside.
"Ziva reads Maxim as well, and she's let me know which ones are good and which aren't."
"Ah. Well, anyway, I'm reading her Cosmo, enjoying the pictures, seriously that thing's like soft porn, laughing really hard at the suggestions, and a few pages later I found the stuff on Tantric sex, and that actually looked good, but it was only three pages long, so off to the library I went, and a few inter-library loans and two weeks later, I had some stuff worth reading, and a girlfriend who was actually pretty interested in seeing what we could do with it."
"Twenty-year-old-you walks up to the counter at the library and asks them to put sex books on hold for you?" Tim asks. Twenty-year-old Tim McGee would have spontaneously combusted if he tried to ask for help finding sex books.
"Twenty-year-old-me was bound and determined to get great at sex. Plus the girl at the counter was a freshman and really cute, so I practiced my flirting technique. She still thought I was a dork, and probably a pervert, but I got the books I was looking for. And then I had a whole lot of fun with them. I wasn't flexible or strong enough for a lot of the stuff in there, so next semester I signed up for the yoga gym class and have been doing it regularly since." Jimmy drinks some of his iced tea and stretches. "I should probably be getting home soon."
Tim checks his watch, it's a little after one. "Yeah. Bootcamp tomorrow?"
"See you then." Jimmy stood and headed off.
Tony took another sip of his shake. "I am so glad I'm not doing that tomorrow. I'm going home, filling the bathtub with cold water and ice, and not moving for a week."
"If you're hurting that bad, your body may be telling you more exercise is in order."
"What it's telling me is that I'm forty-eight and trying to become a pretzel is a bad plan. I don't feel like this after jogging or sparring."
"It was for a good cause. He didn't check his phone once the whole time we were out."
"I know. And I could see he was really smiling when we were talking. After I get back from my honeymoon, we'll bring Ziva and Breena and do it again."
"Good."
"Why couldn't you two be basketball fans? You know, normal guys do things like go to a game."
"This is better for you."
"Yeah." Tony got up very slowly and began limping toward the door.
"Did you really hurt yourself?" Tim asked, yeah, he's sore; he knows he did something that's not part of his usual routine, but he's not aching.
"I hope not."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 171
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 171: Bikram Yoga
"I have been instructed by my wife and yours that I am to take you out and make you do something you consider fun this weekend, at gun point if necessary," Tim said to Jimmy as they got some lunch.
Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that's how I responded, as well. So, we have three options. Abby gave me a Groupon for Bikram yoga. She got it before she got pregnant, and had intended to use it with you, but it will expire before she and you can use it. We can do that, and if you think it'd be even more fun than watching just me try to keep up with it, we can get Ziva to make Tony come as well." That idea got a hint of a smile out of Jimmy. "Or we can go do anything else you might want to. Or I can tell them to shove it. I'm not going to make you go out if you don't want to."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"I'm driving her crazy, hovering around too much. Checking my email ten times an hour, waiting for the results of the genetic testing."
"When are they due?"
"Any day now, but probably Monday. And she wants me to do something to take my mind off of it. She especially doesn't want me just roaming around the house going bonkers"
"Anything you might want to do, I'm up for."
Jimmy smiles a little at that. "Ziva'd make Tony go, too?"
"Probably. She'd probably be up to going with us, too. I bet she'd love to see him try. I don't think he's ever done any yoga."
"And the way he teases us about it not being real exercise…"
"Yeah." Tim's nodding with a mean smile on his face, but that fades as he notice's Jimmy's attention has slipped away from him. "What are you hoping the results are?"
"I almost wish one of us was a carrier of the trisomy. If that's the case, then whichever one gets sterilized, and we can have healthy babies with an egg or sperm donor. We'd be able to… control it… you know?" He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "If it was just random chance… The die can always come up snake eyes." He puts them back on again and ate a bite of his salad.
"I get that."
Jimmy reaches for his phone, stops himself, takes a deep breath, and says to Tim, "Sure, Bikram Yoga on Saturday, we'll bring Tony and laugh."
"Good."
"We're doing what on Saturday?"
"Hot yoga."
Tony's very rarely so flustered that he's got nothing to say, but sitting there in the car, heading to question the CO of their latest dead sailor, staring at Tim like he's insane, he's speechless. Then speechless goes away and a sly look crosses his face.
"I know what you're doing."
"Getting Jimmy out of the house so he doesn't drive Breena insane."
"Sure…" Tony nods, smug, not believing it at all.
"What do you think I'm doing, Tony?"
"Surprise bachelor party. I haven't heard anything from either about it, and it's got to be coming up."
"Ah." And Tim does look like he just got caught with something, because, well, they do have the surprise bachelor party in the works. He got the tickets yesterday, Jimmy got Ziva into the conspiracy, and Gibbs was supposed to be asking Vance about the van today or tomorrow, that's not what's happening with this. "Really, Saturday, ten AM, hot yoga, with Jimmy. No surprise party."
That tosses Tony back into stunned, because of all the things they might try to drag him into hot yoga's just so far off the beaten path he's having a hard time wrapping his head around it.
Finally he comes up with, "Why?"
"Like I said, he's driving Breena bonkers, so I've been enlisted to get him out of the house, also because Jimmy likes it, and the sight of the two of us trying this should make him laugh hard enough to rupture his spleen, and he needs that."
"I get it." Tony sighs. While it's true that he's got no problem at all being the clown prince when needed, this involves something a little touchy for him. "You're supposed to do that in bare feet, right?"
"Yeah."
"Think they'd let me wear shoes?"
It took Tim a second to remember why Tony might want shoes. Took him another second to remember that since Tony lost those toes Tim's never seen him barefoot. When they hit the beach or pool, he's always got some sort of shoes on.
"I think if you explained that you needed them for help with balancing, that it wouldn't be a problem."
Tony nods.
"Or you can skip them. I mean… We're not gonna look or anything."
"Kind of hard not to." Tony flashes him a self-depreciating expression. "Lost all five on the right and three on the left. It's not a big deal. Not like I can't walk or run, but it looks really wrong."
"You lost eight toes?" Tim's staring at him utterly shocked. "You said a few! Ducky said you were fine. I'm sorry. I just… I didn't know it was that bad."
Tony shrugs. "Ziva knew. I'm sure Ducky did, too, he was still my medical proxy then. Didn't want it getting out beyond that. You do need them for balance, and I didn't want to find out that NCIS would sideline me for missing toes."
"That makes sense."
"But I can't really hide them in a locker room, or anywhere else I'm supposed to be barefoot."
Tim nods. "Look, Jimmy and I aren't going to say anything about them to anyone. And I'm sure if you tell the instructor you're missing eight toes that shoes won't be a problem. And if you don't want to… Yeah, we were both thinking beating you over the head with how hard yoga really is would be funny, but if you don't want to go, that's fine."
"Oh… it's fine to make fun of me for being clumsy but not for being a cripple?"
Tim flashes him a look best described as Duh! "Well, yeah. I thought everyone knew that."
Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll be there."
"Ziva's invited, too."
Tony shook his head. "Remember when she got that third speeding ticket?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Saturday is driving school for her."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yeah. But if she can manage to not scare the instructor into early gray hair, then she can get some of those points off her license."
"Cool."
Tony pulls into a parking spot. "So, what do I need to bring for this?"
"It'll be hot, like hundred degrees, so something light and easy to move in, but probably not shorts."
"Why not shorts?"
"Because you don't wear briefs and if the legs on your shorts are tight enough to keep you from flashing everyone when your leg is up, they're also tight enough that you won't be able to move easily."
"McGee, assuming there will not be people lying on the floor between my legs, I don't think I can get into any positions where the leg of my shorts will result in me flashing anyone."
"Then wear shorts. Bring lots of water. Don't feel embarrassed if you can't get into most or even any of the positions, I probably can't either, just keep trying."
"Great."
Saturday morning they walked into the studio and were greeted by a rush of hot air.
Tony took one look at Tim and Jimmy and said, "Okay, doing this in a hundred degree room is cheating on the sweating thing. Playing poker in this heat would make you sweat, and that doesn't make it exercise."
"It's hot to help you loosen up and stretch," Jimmy said as he headed to the front desk.
"Uh huh."
Jimmy grinned at him. "And trust me, you're going to need all the help you can get."
Tim had told Tony to wear something light, cool, and easy to move in, and then promptly forgot about it because they got to the location of Colonel Phelps and he switched out of weekend mode and into case mode.
So, it wasn't until that morning that it occurred to him that he didn't have any good hot yoga clothing.
Well, that's not quite true. But as he's changing Tony looks at him and says, "Your pajamas?"
Technically the answer to that is yes. He's in a pair of very light cotton knit pants and an MIT t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.
Jimmy's in something that looks a whole lot like boxer briefs, and nothing else. It's really tight, pretty short, and Tim, even if he was as cut as Jimmy, could not possibly image ever wearing anything that revealing in public.
Tony's got on gym shorts and an NCIS t-shirt, and from what Tim can tell is trying to not look directly at Jimmy, who is for all practical purposes, naked.
"You sleep in that?" Jimmy asks.
"No, I watch TV, lay around the house, and write in this. I sleep naked, unless I'm on a case, which is why he knows these are my pajamas."
"Ah."
Tony's looking at Tim. "I thought this was something you do."
"Yoga is something I do. Yoga in public in hundred degree heat isn't."
"You do it in your PJs?" Tony asks.
"No. I do it at home, first thing in the morning, with Abby. So it's not like I get out of bed, put clothing on, do it with her, then take the clothing off, get a shower, and go put more clothing on. Unless it's cold in our room, I do it naked."
Jimmy's nodding at that. "Easier to make sure your form is good that way."
And while Tim's sure that's true, that's generally something he's not paying all that much attention to. Naked Abby doing yoga is vastly more interesting to him than what his own body might be doing.
Jimmy looks at both of them and shakes his head. "Leave your shirts. Really, it's going to be hot in there."
While it's true that the front desk area was hot, the actual studio where they'll be doing the yoga is sweltering.
It's really, really hot.
It's like a sauna with good lighting and mirrors.
And Tim's not entirely sure that the sixty-four ounces of water he brought are going to be enough. And Jimmy was right, this is definitely a shirt free zone. And he's certainly debating stripping out of his pants, too. There's a little button on the fly of his boxers… He'd probably be covered enough, and still be wearing way more clothing than Jimmy.
He's reaching for his waistband when two more members of the class walk in. Girls. From the looks of it, they're fourteen and seventeen. So, pants are definitely staying on. And in what he's thinking of as his first 'Dad' moment, he's feeling a very strong desire to wrap Jimmy in a towel and not let him come back until he's got some pants on.
Apparently this Groupon was for an introductory class, purposely kept small so that each member could get lots of one on one attention, so it's the three of them, the two girls, and the instructor, who is also female and maybe twenty-two.
So, it's not like he can hide in the back or sort of blend in. But Jimmy's looking pretty loose and comfortable as the instructor gives them the little get-to-know-Bikram pep talk, Tony looks ready to die from a combination of heat and embarrassment, the girls keep staring at them (especially Jimmy) and giggling. Tim guesses he's somewhere in between and that's okay.
And then they get started.
It's starts off easy enough, even Tony can handle Half Moon pose's easy side bend, but it ramps up pretty fast from there.
Link
There are twenty six poses used in Bikram yoga, and for the vast majority of them Tim was hearing Tony muttering under his breath, "You have got to be fucking kidding me," along with "Ow ow ow ow ow!" and "My God, Palmer, how the hell are you doing this!"
And Tim sincerely agrees with the last of those. Okay, yes, he's only been doing this for five months, and Jimmy's been doing it for years, but still… How? Human bodies were not meant to get into some of these positions and yeah, he can see Jimmy's struggling a little with some of them, this isn't his usual discipline, but all of his moves are slow, controlled, and graceful. And sure he may not have the full range of extension the instructor does, but Jimmy also isn't a twenty-something girl.
Meanwhile Tim's mostly just pleased he hasn't managed to fall on his ass (or in the case of the Standing Separate Leg Stretching pose, his head), yet.
And he's fairly certain Tony's just pleased that he hasn't died.
They're about half an hour into it when Tim notices something else. Yes, this was designed to make sure they all get a decent amount of one on one attention, and yes, the instructor, Jamie, has been working with each of them, and okay, it's true that Tony's worse than the other four of them, but he gets about five times as much attention as the rest of them.
And he's not that much worse than Tim is.
He's bad at it, no two ways about it. And even if he wasn't eight toes down, the fact that he's got all the flexibility of a piece of plywood is not helping things, but even without the toes he does have a decent sense of balance, is generally good at any sort of sports, and is pretty strong. So, there's no chance that he's the worst yoga student Jamie's ever seen.
But he's getting a lot of one on one attention and some really intensive encouragement.
After they wrapped up, and were heading back toward the locker room, Jamie came over to Tony, looking up at him adoringly, standing a little too close, and said, "You know, if you ever want some one on one help—"
Jimmy cut in with "He's getting married in April."
"Oh." The expression on her face fell, and she shrugged and walked off.
Tim rolled his eyes. "You know, I was almost as bad as you were at this, and no hot girls are coming up to me to offer tutoring."
Tony grinned at him. "When you've got it—"
"And the it he's talking about is a naked ring finger," Jimmy adds.
"She'd have hit on me even if I was wearing a wedding ring!"
"Uh huh… That's why she sprinted off when I mentioned you were engaged. One thing you're going to have to get used to, women rarely hit on married men. They see that ring and run away. And if you flirt with them while wearing it, they get creeped out."
"You speaking from a lot of experience here, Palmer? Do a lot of flirting behind Breena's back?"
"No, I've got a better source than that. Breena's book club meets at our place every six weeks, and they have a really easy time forgetting I'm around. I listen in."
By that point they were in the locker room and Tim drifted off, looking forward to, for the first time he can ever remember, a cool shower.
No, it wasn't like he'd been planning on looking. He's been in a locker room plenty of times with Jimmy and never looked. Just like in the restroom, not looking at the other guys' privates is part of the guy code, but it's a tiny locker room. So, he's practically changing on top of Jimmy, who is, of course, also naked. Which means when he turns to grab his shirt, he does see naked Jimmy.
And suddenly why Jimmy doesn't have a problem with the zipper on his fly when having sex in public is very apparent. His pubic hair can't be more than a quarter of an inch long, so obviously getting snagged in the zipper isn't an issue for him.
"Oh."
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Tony, who was limping out of the shower, said, "What?"
"Nothing." He pulled his shirt over his head and found his wrist cuff.
"Didn't sound like nothing." Jimmy added, looking at him curiously, finishing drying off.
Tim rolled his eyes, looked down pointedly, then looked away and snapped the cuff shut. "Just realized why zippers aren't a problem for you."
Jimmy followed what he meant and shrugged a little. "A side benefit of not being wild and woolly."
"Side benefit?" Tony asked.
"Well, the main one is that she's not picking my hair out of her teeth, which means her mouth heads down there a whole lot more often."
"Ah." Both Tim and Tony nod at that.
"And well, it makes everything look bigger, which is kind of nice, too."
"I suppose you do what you have to," Tony said as he starts to dry off.
"Oh please, Tony, you're not setting any records." Tim said.
"You've seen enough dicks to know, McGee?"
"Not live, but yeah, I have." Both Jimmy and Tony stared at him. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't you two even try to tell me you don't watch porn. Remember, I'm the guy you call when your computers mysteriously stop working after visiting certain sites. I know all your dirty little secrets."
Jimmy just sort of shrugged, and Tony looked really disturbed by that, which Tim found amusing because, well, Tony had nothing particularly troublesome on his computer (the kinkiest he gets is trios with two girls), but Jimmy's got some pretty wild stuff on his.
"Oh, and on that subject, google whatever it is you like plus Tumblr, and then don't leave Tumblr. You'll end up calling me a lot less often about your computers being clogged with malware."
They nodded and went back to getting dressed.
"What's Tumblr?" Tony asked a minute later.
"Fandoms and porn."
"So, geek heaven?" Jimmy said.
"Yeah."
"No wonder you knew about it," Tony added.
A minute later, while Tim's tying his shoes, Tony asks Jimmy. "Isn't it kind of prickly?"
"Huh?"
"You know, you trim down there, is it kind of itchy?"
"Only if you trim it too short. Shaving is where prickly and itchy becomes an issue."
"You shaved it all off?" Tim asks. Yeah, he knows some guys do that (once again, he watches porn) but he never thought any guy he knew would.
"Yeah. And, the first eight hours after were really, really good. Everything is so soft, and so sensitive, and well, Breena really liked it, and… if she's bare, too…" Jimmy appeared to be remembering something he really enjoyed. "Anyway… Until it started to grow back, it was incredible. Then it started to grow back, and imaging wearing skin-tight briefs made of sandpaper, that scrape against you every single time you move, and I mean every time you shift, step, hell, breathe, and it feels that way for like three days."
Both Tim and Tony were cringing at that idea.
"So you never did it again?" Tim asks.
"Not saying that." Jimmy smirks. "Really, those first eight hours, excellent. But I don't do it if I've got work anytime soon. And Breena did find some lotion that makes the hair grow in slower and softer, so that helps. But, ummm… if she's not willing to lick or suck all of you, it's probably not worth the growing back in period."
Tony nods. Tim does, too and decides he's dressed enough to head out of the locker room.
Next
Chapter 171: Bikram Yoga
"I have been instructed by my wife and yours that I am to take you out and make you do something you consider fun this weekend, at gun point if necessary," Tim said to Jimmy as they got some lunch.
Jimmy rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that's how I responded, as well. So, we have three options. Abby gave me a Groupon for Bikram yoga. She got it before she got pregnant, and had intended to use it with you, but it will expire before she and you can use it. We can do that, and if you think it'd be even more fun than watching just me try to keep up with it, we can get Ziva to make Tony come as well." That idea got a hint of a smile out of Jimmy. "Or we can go do anything else you might want to. Or I can tell them to shove it. I'm not going to make you go out if you don't want to."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"I'm driving her crazy, hovering around too much. Checking my email ten times an hour, waiting for the results of the genetic testing."
"When are they due?"
"Any day now, but probably Monday. And she wants me to do something to take my mind off of it. She especially doesn't want me just roaming around the house going bonkers"
"Anything you might want to do, I'm up for."
Jimmy smiles a little at that. "Ziva'd make Tony go, too?"
"Probably. She'd probably be up to going with us, too. I bet she'd love to see him try. I don't think he's ever done any yoga."
"And the way he teases us about it not being real exercise…"
"Yeah." Tim's nodding with a mean smile on his face, but that fades as he notice's Jimmy's attention has slipped away from him. "What are you hoping the results are?"
"I almost wish one of us was a carrier of the trisomy. If that's the case, then whichever one gets sterilized, and we can have healthy babies with an egg or sperm donor. We'd be able to… control it… you know?" He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "If it was just random chance… The die can always come up snake eyes." He puts them back on again and ate a bite of his salad.
"I get that."
Jimmy reaches for his phone, stops himself, takes a deep breath, and says to Tim, "Sure, Bikram Yoga on Saturday, we'll bring Tony and laugh."
"Good."
"We're doing what on Saturday?"
"Hot yoga."
Tony's very rarely so flustered that he's got nothing to say, but sitting there in the car, heading to question the CO of their latest dead sailor, staring at Tim like he's insane, he's speechless. Then speechless goes away and a sly look crosses his face.
"I know what you're doing."
"Getting Jimmy out of the house so he doesn't drive Breena insane."
"Sure…" Tony nods, smug, not believing it at all.
"What do you think I'm doing, Tony?"
"Surprise bachelor party. I haven't heard anything from either about it, and it's got to be coming up."
"Ah." And Tim does look like he just got caught with something, because, well, they do have the surprise bachelor party in the works. He got the tickets yesterday, Jimmy got Ziva into the conspiracy, and Gibbs was supposed to be asking Vance about the van today or tomorrow, that's not what's happening with this. "Really, Saturday, ten AM, hot yoga, with Jimmy. No surprise party."
That tosses Tony back into stunned, because of all the things they might try to drag him into hot yoga's just so far off the beaten path he's having a hard time wrapping his head around it.
Finally he comes up with, "Why?"
"Like I said, he's driving Breena bonkers, so I've been enlisted to get him out of the house, also because Jimmy likes it, and the sight of the two of us trying this should make him laugh hard enough to rupture his spleen, and he needs that."
"I get it." Tony sighs. While it's true that he's got no problem at all being the clown prince when needed, this involves something a little touchy for him. "You're supposed to do that in bare feet, right?"
"Yeah."
"Think they'd let me wear shoes?"
It took Tim a second to remember why Tony might want shoes. Took him another second to remember that since Tony lost those toes Tim's never seen him barefoot. When they hit the beach or pool, he's always got some sort of shoes on.
"I think if you explained that you needed them for help with balancing, that it wouldn't be a problem."
Tony nods.
"Or you can skip them. I mean… We're not gonna look or anything."
"Kind of hard not to." Tony flashes him a self-depreciating expression. "Lost all five on the right and three on the left. It's not a big deal. Not like I can't walk or run, but it looks really wrong."
"You lost eight toes?" Tim's staring at him utterly shocked. "You said a few! Ducky said you were fine. I'm sorry. I just… I didn't know it was that bad."
Tony shrugs. "Ziva knew. I'm sure Ducky did, too, he was still my medical proxy then. Didn't want it getting out beyond that. You do need them for balance, and I didn't want to find out that NCIS would sideline me for missing toes."
"That makes sense."
"But I can't really hide them in a locker room, or anywhere else I'm supposed to be barefoot."
Tim nods. "Look, Jimmy and I aren't going to say anything about them to anyone. And I'm sure if you tell the instructor you're missing eight toes that shoes won't be a problem. And if you don't want to… Yeah, we were both thinking beating you over the head with how hard yoga really is would be funny, but if you don't want to go, that's fine."
"Oh… it's fine to make fun of me for being clumsy but not for being a cripple?"
Tim flashes him a look best described as Duh! "Well, yeah. I thought everyone knew that."
Tony rolled his eyes. "I'll be there."
"Ziva's invited, too."
Tony shook his head. "Remember when she got that third speeding ticket?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Saturday is driving school for her."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yeah. But if she can manage to not scare the instructor into early gray hair, then she can get some of those points off her license."
"Cool."
Tony pulls into a parking spot. "So, what do I need to bring for this?"
"It'll be hot, like hundred degrees, so something light and easy to move in, but probably not shorts."
"Why not shorts?"
"Because you don't wear briefs and if the legs on your shorts are tight enough to keep you from flashing everyone when your leg is up, they're also tight enough that you won't be able to move easily."
"McGee, assuming there will not be people lying on the floor between my legs, I don't think I can get into any positions where the leg of my shorts will result in me flashing anyone."
"Then wear shorts. Bring lots of water. Don't feel embarrassed if you can't get into most or even any of the positions, I probably can't either, just keep trying."
"Great."
Saturday morning they walked into the studio and were greeted by a rush of hot air.
Tony took one look at Tim and Jimmy and said, "Okay, doing this in a hundred degree room is cheating on the sweating thing. Playing poker in this heat would make you sweat, and that doesn't make it exercise."
"It's hot to help you loosen up and stretch," Jimmy said as he headed to the front desk.
"Uh huh."
Jimmy grinned at him. "And trust me, you're going to need all the help you can get."
Tim had told Tony to wear something light, cool, and easy to move in, and then promptly forgot about it because they got to the location of Colonel Phelps and he switched out of weekend mode and into case mode.
So, it wasn't until that morning that it occurred to him that he didn't have any good hot yoga clothing.
Well, that's not quite true. But as he's changing Tony looks at him and says, "Your pajamas?"
Technically the answer to that is yes. He's in a pair of very light cotton knit pants and an MIT t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off.
Jimmy's in something that looks a whole lot like boxer briefs, and nothing else. It's really tight, pretty short, and Tim, even if he was as cut as Jimmy, could not possibly image ever wearing anything that revealing in public.
Tony's got on gym shorts and an NCIS t-shirt, and from what Tim can tell is trying to not look directly at Jimmy, who is for all practical purposes, naked.
"You sleep in that?" Jimmy asks.
"No, I watch TV, lay around the house, and write in this. I sleep naked, unless I'm on a case, which is why he knows these are my pajamas."
"Ah."
Tony's looking at Tim. "I thought this was something you do."
"Yoga is something I do. Yoga in public in hundred degree heat isn't."
"You do it in your PJs?" Tony asks.
"No. I do it at home, first thing in the morning, with Abby. So it's not like I get out of bed, put clothing on, do it with her, then take the clothing off, get a shower, and go put more clothing on. Unless it's cold in our room, I do it naked."
Jimmy's nodding at that. "Easier to make sure your form is good that way."
And while Tim's sure that's true, that's generally something he's not paying all that much attention to. Naked Abby doing yoga is vastly more interesting to him than what his own body might be doing.
Jimmy looks at both of them and shakes his head. "Leave your shirts. Really, it's going to be hot in there."
While it's true that the front desk area was hot, the actual studio where they'll be doing the yoga is sweltering.
It's really, really hot.
It's like a sauna with good lighting and mirrors.
And Tim's not entirely sure that the sixty-four ounces of water he brought are going to be enough. And Jimmy was right, this is definitely a shirt free zone. And he's certainly debating stripping out of his pants, too. There's a little button on the fly of his boxers… He'd probably be covered enough, and still be wearing way more clothing than Jimmy.
He's reaching for his waistband when two more members of the class walk in. Girls. From the looks of it, they're fourteen and seventeen. So, pants are definitely staying on. And in what he's thinking of as his first 'Dad' moment, he's feeling a very strong desire to wrap Jimmy in a towel and not let him come back until he's got some pants on.
Apparently this Groupon was for an introductory class, purposely kept small so that each member could get lots of one on one attention, so it's the three of them, the two girls, and the instructor, who is also female and maybe twenty-two.
So, it's not like he can hide in the back or sort of blend in. But Jimmy's looking pretty loose and comfortable as the instructor gives them the little get-to-know-Bikram pep talk, Tony looks ready to die from a combination of heat and embarrassment, the girls keep staring at them (especially Jimmy) and giggling. Tim guesses he's somewhere in between and that's okay.
And then they get started.
It's starts off easy enough, even Tony can handle Half Moon pose's easy side bend, but it ramps up pretty fast from there.
LinkThere are twenty six poses used in Bikram yoga, and for the vast majority of them Tim was hearing Tony muttering under his breath, "You have got to be fucking kidding me," along with "Ow ow ow ow ow!" and "My God, Palmer, how the hell are you doing this!"
And Tim sincerely agrees with the last of those. Okay, yes, he's only been doing this for five months, and Jimmy's been doing it for years, but still… How? Human bodies were not meant to get into some of these positions and yeah, he can see Jimmy's struggling a little with some of them, this isn't his usual discipline, but all of his moves are slow, controlled, and graceful. And sure he may not have the full range of extension the instructor does, but Jimmy also isn't a twenty-something girl.
Meanwhile Tim's mostly just pleased he hasn't managed to fall on his ass (or in the case of the Standing Separate Leg Stretching pose, his head), yet.
And he's fairly certain Tony's just pleased that he hasn't died.
They're about half an hour into it when Tim notices something else. Yes, this was designed to make sure they all get a decent amount of one on one attention, and yes, the instructor, Jamie, has been working with each of them, and okay, it's true that Tony's worse than the other four of them, but he gets about five times as much attention as the rest of them.
And he's not that much worse than Tim is.
He's bad at it, no two ways about it. And even if he wasn't eight toes down, the fact that he's got all the flexibility of a piece of plywood is not helping things, but even without the toes he does have a decent sense of balance, is generally good at any sort of sports, and is pretty strong. So, there's no chance that he's the worst yoga student Jamie's ever seen.
But he's getting a lot of one on one attention and some really intensive encouragement.
After they wrapped up, and were heading back toward the locker room, Jamie came over to Tony, looking up at him adoringly, standing a little too close, and said, "You know, if you ever want some one on one help—"
Jimmy cut in with "He's getting married in April."
"Oh." The expression on her face fell, and she shrugged and walked off.
Tim rolled his eyes. "You know, I was almost as bad as you were at this, and no hot girls are coming up to me to offer tutoring."
Tony grinned at him. "When you've got it—"
"And the it he's talking about is a naked ring finger," Jimmy adds.
"She'd have hit on me even if I was wearing a wedding ring!"
"Uh huh… That's why she sprinted off when I mentioned you were engaged. One thing you're going to have to get used to, women rarely hit on married men. They see that ring and run away. And if you flirt with them while wearing it, they get creeped out."
"You speaking from a lot of experience here, Palmer? Do a lot of flirting behind Breena's back?"
"No, I've got a better source than that. Breena's book club meets at our place every six weeks, and they have a really easy time forgetting I'm around. I listen in."
By that point they were in the locker room and Tim drifted off, looking forward to, for the first time he can ever remember, a cool shower.
No, it wasn't like he'd been planning on looking. He's been in a locker room plenty of times with Jimmy and never looked. Just like in the restroom, not looking at the other guys' privates is part of the guy code, but it's a tiny locker room. So, he's practically changing on top of Jimmy, who is, of course, also naked. Which means when he turns to grab his shirt, he does see naked Jimmy.
And suddenly why Jimmy doesn't have a problem with the zipper on his fly when having sex in public is very apparent. His pubic hair can't be more than a quarter of an inch long, so obviously getting snagged in the zipper isn't an issue for him.
"Oh."
He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Tony, who was limping out of the shower, said, "What?"
"Nothing." He pulled his shirt over his head and found his wrist cuff.
"Didn't sound like nothing." Jimmy added, looking at him curiously, finishing drying off.
Tim rolled his eyes, looked down pointedly, then looked away and snapped the cuff shut. "Just realized why zippers aren't a problem for you."
Jimmy followed what he meant and shrugged a little. "A side benefit of not being wild and woolly."
"Side benefit?" Tony asked.
"Well, the main one is that she's not picking my hair out of her teeth, which means her mouth heads down there a whole lot more often."
"Ah." Both Tim and Tony nod at that.
"And well, it makes everything look bigger, which is kind of nice, too."
"I suppose you do what you have to," Tony said as he starts to dry off.
"Oh please, Tony, you're not setting any records." Tim said.
"You've seen enough dicks to know, McGee?"
"Not live, but yeah, I have." Both Jimmy and Tony stared at him. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't you two even try to tell me you don't watch porn. Remember, I'm the guy you call when your computers mysteriously stop working after visiting certain sites. I know all your dirty little secrets."
Jimmy just sort of shrugged, and Tony looked really disturbed by that, which Tim found amusing because, well, Tony had nothing particularly troublesome on his computer (the kinkiest he gets is trios with two girls), but Jimmy's got some pretty wild stuff on his.
"Oh, and on that subject, google whatever it is you like plus Tumblr, and then don't leave Tumblr. You'll end up calling me a lot less often about your computers being clogged with malware."
They nodded and went back to getting dressed.
"What's Tumblr?" Tony asked a minute later.
"Fandoms and porn."
"So, geek heaven?" Jimmy said.
"Yeah."
"No wonder you knew about it," Tony added.
A minute later, while Tim's tying his shoes, Tony asks Jimmy. "Isn't it kind of prickly?"
"Huh?"
"You know, you trim down there, is it kind of itchy?"
"Only if you trim it too short. Shaving is where prickly and itchy becomes an issue."
"You shaved it all off?" Tim asks. Yeah, he knows some guys do that (once again, he watches porn) but he never thought any guy he knew would.
"Yeah. And, the first eight hours after were really, really good. Everything is so soft, and so sensitive, and well, Breena really liked it, and… if she's bare, too…" Jimmy appeared to be remembering something he really enjoyed. "Anyway… Until it started to grow back, it was incredible. Then it started to grow back, and imaging wearing skin-tight briefs made of sandpaper, that scrape against you every single time you move, and I mean every time you shift, step, hell, breathe, and it feels that way for like three days."
Both Tim and Tony were cringing at that idea.
"So you never did it again?" Tim asks.
"Not saying that." Jimmy smirks. "Really, those first eight hours, excellent. But I don't do it if I've got work anytime soon. And Breena did find some lotion that makes the hair grow in slower and softer, so that helps. But, ummm… if she's not willing to lick or suck all of you, it's probably not worth the growing back in period."
Tony nods. Tim does, too and decides he's dressed enough to head out of the locker room.
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 170
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 170: Paella
Tim McGee is not a great cook. He never has been, and he likely never will be. He's mastered more than enough skills in his life and isn't feeling any need to go from being a competent cook to an excellent one.
But tonight, he will cook this, and he will absolutely kill it.
And it doesn't matter that it's got about nineteen thousand ingredients or takes hours.
His pregnant wife has been trapped in a courtroom all day, craving this, texting him about it, and he is going to provide it for her or die trying.
Of course, as he's unpacking spices, rice, and fish, it occurs to him that, just possibly, if he actually knew what paella was supposed to taste like, he could probably do a better job of making it.
It also occurs to him, that should he kill this, and not in a good way, that they do have a pretty good Spanish restaurant fifteen minutes from their house.
From everything he read, the bottom of the paella was supposed to be a little crunchy. He's fairly sure it's not supposed to be rock hard, blackened, cemented to the bottom of the pan, and very slightly smoking.
See, while it's true that Tim can and often does multi-task, it's also true that on occasion he gets so into what he's doing (gaming) that he loses track of everything around him.
So, it was the smell of something scorching that jerked him out of Halo 4, back to the real world, and the fact that he had indeed, killed, the paella.
He tosses the pan in the sink, filling it with water, hoping the burned on rice will eventually soften enough to be scraped out, opened the windows to get the smell out, and really hoped he could get paella from the restaurant fast enough to have it home before Abby gets home.
PaellaTake-out food is the best thing ever. Take-out food that smells great, looks perfect, and can be easily stuck on your own plates, looking like you slaved away at it, is even better. And, while it is true that if Abby asks, he will tell her what happened to Paella 1.0, he certainly would not mind if she thought he made Paella 2.0 for her.
But in that he was attacking their skillet with spatula in an effort to get some of the less scorched rice off when she came into the kitchen to see what he was up to, the chances of her not asking about Paella 1.0 were pretty slim.
There are romantic dinners and there are romantic dinners. For example, Tim knows that Tony and Ziva prefer the high-end dinner out experience. He knows that these days, any meal that involves both of them together and not scraping food off a one-year-old qualifies as romantic to Jimmy and Breena. For Tim, though, dinner at home, with Abby, preferably with good food, tasty wine (and okay, usually he prefers to share it with her, but for the time being he'll take a glass by himself), low lights, his music, and a "relaxed" dress code, often lounging on the floor in front of the fireplace is the definition of a romantic dinner.
Sure, it's not an expensive restaurant. And yep, they aren't dressed up. But they are snuggled together, the lighting is soft and low, the music has a tempo suggestive of slow sex, and if they were out someplace 'nice' the couldn't be anywhere nearly this comfortable.
And if they were out somewhere nice, what he did next would have been horrendously inappropriate. (Which wouldn't have stopped him or anything…)
Her hair is still up in the French twist she put it in this morning. One of the good things about Abby being pregnant is that her court wardrobe had to change. And she hates what she calls her Court Barbie wear, but he also knows she intentionally picks horrible court clothing to play up the fact that it's not her real clothing.
So, when she had court, and a tummy that refused to fit into her old outfits, he gently steered her towards some outfits that didn't look like they were designed for a six-year-old's idea of professional. And him demonstrating enthusiastically and affectionately that she didn't look terrible in the new outfits made her feel better about being in them and start just having fun with it. Like it's a new sort of dress up game.
And Abby's good at dress up games. So, now when court appearances come up, she actually plays up the sleek, professional, stylish look, and her hair also reflects the game.
Which is why it was still up in what he thinks is a French twist, but it certainly could have another name, but the important part in regards to what would have likely been highly inappropriate should they have been eating this romantic dinner in an actual restaurant is that her hair is up, the nape of her neck and ears are bare, and he's intending to take advantage of that.
After getting home, and the explanation for what happened to paella 1.0, she had figured out that a romantic dinner was on, and changed into her kimono. Tim's not entirely sure, (she's been teasing him with occasional little glimpses, but he hasn't seen enough to really tell) but either she's naked under there or wearing very sheer lingerie.
He's in his go-to sexy look, jeans, somewhat unbuttoned button down, sleeves rolled up.
They're both on the floor. He's lying on his side, propped on his right arm, and she's sitting sort of on her hip, back against his thighs, her legs folded behind her, her feet on his calves.
She reaches for her glass of water, and the slow pull of her arm against the kimono causes it to slip down her shoulder, confirming that if she is wearing anything under the kimono it's not any larger than panties, and inspiring Tim for the very inappropriate (should he try it in a restaurant) thing he was about to do.
He sits full up behind her, drawing his glass of wine close as well. Normally he's a one glass with dinner kind of guy, but the white Rioja he got with the paella is really tasty, and it'll just go bad sitting open in the fridge, and it's not like he's got to drive home, so he's about a third of the way through a third glass.
"You're trying to drive me crazy, aren't you," he says quietly against her ear.
"Might be part of the plan. You like it?"
"Yes." That was half breath, half word, all whispered against her neck. He felt the fine little hairs on the back of her neck rise up against him, and he blew gently on them again. She shivered a little, pleased expression on her face.
He hands her his glass. "Hold this?"
She nods and does. "Smells good."
"Tastes good, too." He dipped his finger into the pale gold wine, and brought a few drops of it up, gently stroking them over her lips. Her tongue followed his finger, and she smiled.
"Very tasty." She pulled his finger into her mouth, sucking the last drops off.
"Yes." He slipped his finger out of her mouth, took another drop of the wine and touched it to the shell of her ear, watching it slowly meander along the curve and then licked it off. He kissed the lobe, gave it a tiny nibble and whispered, "Delicious."
He took his index and middle finger this time, and painted a line of wine from the spot where her ear and jaw connect, down her throat and shoulder, to the spot where her arm disappeared under the kimono, following it with his tongue.
He smiled at her, eyes warm and playful, teeth ghosting along the curve of her shoulder. "I want to take you upstairs, tie you down, and play with you until you're begging to come."
And, yeah, that would have just been all sorts of horrendously inappropriate at a nice restaurant.
If Tim thought nine week pregnant Abby was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, it was only because he hadn't yet met nineteen week pregnant Abby.
He didn't particularly think he had any sort of pregnant woman kink. Sure pregnant Breena in a bikini hit his buttons nicely, but it's not like he ever went out of his way to find naked shots of pregnant women, or (Breena aside) spent any time fantasizing about then.
But pregnant Abby, tied up, writhing on their bed, begging to come, Oh God, yes!, that's hitting every button he's ever had so hard he feels light-headed.
There's only a few candles burning for light, and he'd started off with a massage, so the oil on her skin is making her gleam in the dull, gold light.
He's already gotten her off twice, almost gotten off himself, too, because he'd been rubbing all along her back and thighs, and well, she can't exactly lie down on her stomach anymore, but she can sort of kneel, ass high, face and chest on the bed, and, yeah, she was kneeling, and glistening with oil and her own wetness, and he'd been stroking her skin, getting harder and harder each time she'd moan when he hit something good, and there's only so long he can do that and not slip inside her, and even though he had intended to tie her up and spin her out, he ended up on his knees behind her, watching himself fuck her and, well, that's his favorite sight on earth, and as he felt her rippling against him he realized this was going to be done a whole lot faster than he'd intended, so he pulled back and stopped.
He'd promised to make her beg. And that didn't happen that first time. Or the second time, because well, she was still making those really sexy noises, and next thing he knew he'd flipped her over, and was laying on his stomach eating her out. And the whole extra blood-flow pregnant-thing means she gets off a whole lot faster these days and yeah, he's getting better at not accidentally pushing her over the edge, but really, she sounded so good, and he wanted to make her sound better, and next thing he knew she was coming again.
So round two ended with, yet again, no begging.
Which just wasn't acceptable at all.
Because if you look a woman in the eye and tell her you're going to make her beg you to get off, you damn well do it. None of this fooling around with easy, fast orgasms stuff.
So, while she was calming back down, he went to get some of the ropes, and spent half an hour tying her arms to the bed, in beautiful, crisscrossing knots of red satin. Then he spent another ten minutes just taking photos, because they haven't done this in a while, and there's no way in hell he's not gonna have keepsakes. Her body, all soft and shiny, full breasts, softly rounded belly, tattoos and red ropes, pussy wet and open, and fuck, yes! he has to have pictures of that.
He leans on his right side, trailing his left hand down her body, and began very lightly, very slowly, circling her clit with his middle finger.
No penetration. When his finger starts to go dry, instead of slipping it down to pick up some of her lube, he stops everything, slowly gets up, kneels between her legs, and lightly licks her clit to get it wet again.
His body's more or less screaming at him for sex; he'd been achingly close the first time he stopped, but this is just too good to rush. He's keeps gently touching her, slowly ramping up her excitement, but doing nothing that involves any stretch.
And it's working. She is begging. Hard. Hand's clenched around the ropes, back arched, writhing, pleading with him to just do it a little faster or harder so she can get off.
And he just grins, stops, lightly licks her a few more times, and settles back onto his side for more light touching.
He's debating on how to end this for both of them, and rapidly coming to the conclusion that he should have let himself get off earlier and then kept playing with her, because given how she's tied missionary is the easiest option to get both of them off, and it's also off the menu because Kelly's in the way.
Of course… there are other options, maybe less easy, but…
He shifts again to kneel between her legs, sitting butt on his feet, lifting her hips onto his lap. They can't hold that one for too long, baby weight shifts making it harder for her to breathe. But for a minute or two, which is probably all either of them will need, it'll definitely work.
And it does. As soon as he slides into her, hissing at how good soft and wet felt on him, she slipped from begging to the high-pitched, breathy, panting sound that he adores and knows means orgasm soon. It's hard to focus on what his fingers are doing, because her body on his feels so good he's having a really difficult time paying attention to anything else. But her body does clench on his, and her legs squeeze tight on his waist, which was the last thing he clearly remembered beyond hot, pulsing tingles and full body pleasure.
Later, when they were both cleaned up and looking for something to do with the rest of the night. (It was still only 8:45.) Abby said to him, "You know, we're going to break into hysterical giggling when Kelly asks if we've got any pictures of me pregnant."
He does laugh at that. "Yeah, that'll be an interesting conversation. 'Yes, honey, we do, but you can't see them.'"
"Why not, Dad?" Abby asks, mimicking a young girl.
"How old is this hypothetical Kelly?"
"Why?"
"Because if she's an annoying teenager, I'll be looking forward to horrifying her with the idea that I took naked sexy pictures of you when you were pregnant, but if she's six, I'll probably have a very different answer."
Abby laughed at that. "Maybe take some shots of me with my clothes on?"
"I could probably do that."
Next
Chapter 170: Paella
Tim McGee is not a great cook. He never has been, and he likely never will be. He's mastered more than enough skills in his life and isn't feeling any need to go from being a competent cook to an excellent one.
But tonight, he will cook this, and he will absolutely kill it.
And it doesn't matter that it's got about nineteen thousand ingredients or takes hours.
His pregnant wife has been trapped in a courtroom all day, craving this, texting him about it, and he is going to provide it for her or die trying.
Of course, as he's unpacking spices, rice, and fish, it occurs to him that, just possibly, if he actually knew what paella was supposed to taste like, he could probably do a better job of making it.
It also occurs to him, that should he kill this, and not in a good way, that they do have a pretty good Spanish restaurant fifteen minutes from their house.
From everything he read, the bottom of the paella was supposed to be a little crunchy. He's fairly sure it's not supposed to be rock hard, blackened, cemented to the bottom of the pan, and very slightly smoking.
See, while it's true that Tim can and often does multi-task, it's also true that on occasion he gets so into what he's doing (gaming) that he loses track of everything around him.
So, it was the smell of something scorching that jerked him out of Halo 4, back to the real world, and the fact that he had indeed, killed, the paella.
He tosses the pan in the sink, filling it with water, hoping the burned on rice will eventually soften enough to be scraped out, opened the windows to get the smell out, and really hoped he could get paella from the restaurant fast enough to have it home before Abby gets home.
PaellaTake-out food is the best thing ever. Take-out food that smells great, looks perfect, and can be easily stuck on your own plates, looking like you slaved away at it, is even better. And, while it is true that if Abby asks, he will tell her what happened to Paella 1.0, he certainly would not mind if she thought he made Paella 2.0 for her.But in that he was attacking their skillet with spatula in an effort to get some of the less scorched rice off when she came into the kitchen to see what he was up to, the chances of her not asking about Paella 1.0 were pretty slim.
There are romantic dinners and there are romantic dinners. For example, Tim knows that Tony and Ziva prefer the high-end dinner out experience. He knows that these days, any meal that involves both of them together and not scraping food off a one-year-old qualifies as romantic to Jimmy and Breena. For Tim, though, dinner at home, with Abby, preferably with good food, tasty wine (and okay, usually he prefers to share it with her, but for the time being he'll take a glass by himself), low lights, his music, and a "relaxed" dress code, often lounging on the floor in front of the fireplace is the definition of a romantic dinner.
Sure, it's not an expensive restaurant. And yep, they aren't dressed up. But they are snuggled together, the lighting is soft and low, the music has a tempo suggestive of slow sex, and if they were out someplace 'nice' the couldn't be anywhere nearly this comfortable.
And if they were out somewhere nice, what he did next would have been horrendously inappropriate. (Which wouldn't have stopped him or anything…)
Her hair is still up in the French twist she put it in this morning. One of the good things about Abby being pregnant is that her court wardrobe had to change. And she hates what she calls her Court Barbie wear, but he also knows she intentionally picks horrible court clothing to play up the fact that it's not her real clothing.
So, when she had court, and a tummy that refused to fit into her old outfits, he gently steered her towards some outfits that didn't look like they were designed for a six-year-old's idea of professional. And him demonstrating enthusiastically and affectionately that she didn't look terrible in the new outfits made her feel better about being in them and start just having fun with it. Like it's a new sort of dress up game.
And Abby's good at dress up games. So, now when court appearances come up, she actually plays up the sleek, professional, stylish look, and her hair also reflects the game.
Which is why it was still up in what he thinks is a French twist, but it certainly could have another name, but the important part in regards to what would have likely been highly inappropriate should they have been eating this romantic dinner in an actual restaurant is that her hair is up, the nape of her neck and ears are bare, and he's intending to take advantage of that.
After getting home, and the explanation for what happened to paella 1.0, she had figured out that a romantic dinner was on, and changed into her kimono. Tim's not entirely sure, (she's been teasing him with occasional little glimpses, but he hasn't seen enough to really tell) but either she's naked under there or wearing very sheer lingerie.
He's in his go-to sexy look, jeans, somewhat unbuttoned button down, sleeves rolled up.
They're both on the floor. He's lying on his side, propped on his right arm, and she's sitting sort of on her hip, back against his thighs, her legs folded behind her, her feet on his calves.
She reaches for her glass of water, and the slow pull of her arm against the kimono causes it to slip down her shoulder, confirming that if she is wearing anything under the kimono it's not any larger than panties, and inspiring Tim for the very inappropriate (should he try it in a restaurant) thing he was about to do.
He sits full up behind her, drawing his glass of wine close as well. Normally he's a one glass with dinner kind of guy, but the white Rioja he got with the paella is really tasty, and it'll just go bad sitting open in the fridge, and it's not like he's got to drive home, so he's about a third of the way through a third glass.
"You're trying to drive me crazy, aren't you," he says quietly against her ear.
"Might be part of the plan. You like it?"
"Yes." That was half breath, half word, all whispered against her neck. He felt the fine little hairs on the back of her neck rise up against him, and he blew gently on them again. She shivered a little, pleased expression on her face.
He hands her his glass. "Hold this?"
She nods and does. "Smells good."
"Tastes good, too." He dipped his finger into the pale gold wine, and brought a few drops of it up, gently stroking them over her lips. Her tongue followed his finger, and she smiled.
"Very tasty." She pulled his finger into her mouth, sucking the last drops off.
"Yes." He slipped his finger out of her mouth, took another drop of the wine and touched it to the shell of her ear, watching it slowly meander along the curve and then licked it off. He kissed the lobe, gave it a tiny nibble and whispered, "Delicious."
He took his index and middle finger this time, and painted a line of wine from the spot where her ear and jaw connect, down her throat and shoulder, to the spot where her arm disappeared under the kimono, following it with his tongue.
He smiled at her, eyes warm and playful, teeth ghosting along the curve of her shoulder. "I want to take you upstairs, tie you down, and play with you until you're begging to come."
And, yeah, that would have just been all sorts of horrendously inappropriate at a nice restaurant.
If Tim thought nine week pregnant Abby was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, it was only because he hadn't yet met nineteen week pregnant Abby.
He didn't particularly think he had any sort of pregnant woman kink. Sure pregnant Breena in a bikini hit his buttons nicely, but it's not like he ever went out of his way to find naked shots of pregnant women, or (Breena aside) spent any time fantasizing about then.
But pregnant Abby, tied up, writhing on their bed, begging to come, Oh God, yes!, that's hitting every button he's ever had so hard he feels light-headed.
There's only a few candles burning for light, and he'd started off with a massage, so the oil on her skin is making her gleam in the dull, gold light.
He's already gotten her off twice, almost gotten off himself, too, because he'd been rubbing all along her back and thighs, and well, she can't exactly lie down on her stomach anymore, but she can sort of kneel, ass high, face and chest on the bed, and, yeah, she was kneeling, and glistening with oil and her own wetness, and he'd been stroking her skin, getting harder and harder each time she'd moan when he hit something good, and there's only so long he can do that and not slip inside her, and even though he had intended to tie her up and spin her out, he ended up on his knees behind her, watching himself fuck her and, well, that's his favorite sight on earth, and as he felt her rippling against him he realized this was going to be done a whole lot faster than he'd intended, so he pulled back and stopped.
He'd promised to make her beg. And that didn't happen that first time. Or the second time, because well, she was still making those really sexy noises, and next thing he knew he'd flipped her over, and was laying on his stomach eating her out. And the whole extra blood-flow pregnant-thing means she gets off a whole lot faster these days and yeah, he's getting better at not accidentally pushing her over the edge, but really, she sounded so good, and he wanted to make her sound better, and next thing he knew she was coming again.
So round two ended with, yet again, no begging.
Which just wasn't acceptable at all.
Because if you look a woman in the eye and tell her you're going to make her beg you to get off, you damn well do it. None of this fooling around with easy, fast orgasms stuff.
So, while she was calming back down, he went to get some of the ropes, and spent half an hour tying her arms to the bed, in beautiful, crisscrossing knots of red satin. Then he spent another ten minutes just taking photos, because they haven't done this in a while, and there's no way in hell he's not gonna have keepsakes. Her body, all soft and shiny, full breasts, softly rounded belly, tattoos and red ropes, pussy wet and open, and fuck, yes! he has to have pictures of that.
He leans on his right side, trailing his left hand down her body, and began very lightly, very slowly, circling her clit with his middle finger.
No penetration. When his finger starts to go dry, instead of slipping it down to pick up some of her lube, he stops everything, slowly gets up, kneels between her legs, and lightly licks her clit to get it wet again.
His body's more or less screaming at him for sex; he'd been achingly close the first time he stopped, but this is just too good to rush. He's keeps gently touching her, slowly ramping up her excitement, but doing nothing that involves any stretch.
And it's working. She is begging. Hard. Hand's clenched around the ropes, back arched, writhing, pleading with him to just do it a little faster or harder so she can get off.
And he just grins, stops, lightly licks her a few more times, and settles back onto his side for more light touching.
He's debating on how to end this for both of them, and rapidly coming to the conclusion that he should have let himself get off earlier and then kept playing with her, because given how she's tied missionary is the easiest option to get both of them off, and it's also off the menu because Kelly's in the way.
Of course… there are other options, maybe less easy, but…
He shifts again to kneel between her legs, sitting butt on his feet, lifting her hips onto his lap. They can't hold that one for too long, baby weight shifts making it harder for her to breathe. But for a minute or two, which is probably all either of them will need, it'll definitely work.
And it does. As soon as he slides into her, hissing at how good soft and wet felt on him, she slipped from begging to the high-pitched, breathy, panting sound that he adores and knows means orgasm soon. It's hard to focus on what his fingers are doing, because her body on his feels so good he's having a really difficult time paying attention to anything else. But her body does clench on his, and her legs squeeze tight on his waist, which was the last thing he clearly remembered beyond hot, pulsing tingles and full body pleasure.
Later, when they were both cleaned up and looking for something to do with the rest of the night. (It was still only 8:45.) Abby said to him, "You know, we're going to break into hysterical giggling when Kelly asks if we've got any pictures of me pregnant."
He does laugh at that. "Yeah, that'll be an interesting conversation. 'Yes, honey, we do, but you can't see them.'"
"Why not, Dad?" Abby asks, mimicking a young girl.
"How old is this hypothetical Kelly?"
"Why?"
"Because if she's an annoying teenager, I'll be looking forward to horrifying her with the idea that I took naked sexy pictures of you when you were pregnant, but if she's six, I'll probably have a very different answer."
Abby laughed at that. "Maybe take some shots of me with my clothes on?"
"I could probably do that."
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