His tongue brushed against his upper lip and he immediately pulled it back into his mouth, wincing as he remembered the taste of those lips against his. They had been much softer than he'd expected – not that he'd actually thought much about it before, but he'd always assumed Tony's lips would feel rough and slightly chapped – and there had been an almost sweet taste to them as they had brushed against his own lips. He had almost wanted to take a moment to drink in the full effect of Tony kissing him, but something inside of him had caused him to push the agent away after only two seconds of kissing. Still, in those two seconds he had known Tony's feel and taste and he now couldn't escape either.
Tim hadn't expected an after work drink with Tony to end in such an intimate and awkward position. He knew Tony had been feeling blue since Jeanne's departure. Tony, of course, tried to shrug the whole thing off and pretend like it wasn't bothering him, hiding his feelings beneath impish grins and childish pranks, of which Tim was usually the target; Tim, though, recognized that Tony wasn't his old self. Normally, this would have had him cheering and whopping for joy, but in this case it only made him pity the older agent. So when Tony asked Tim to join him for a drink after work on Wednesday, Tim was happy to accept.
"Let's not stay out too late," Tim requested as they walked into the bar. "We do have work tomorrow."
"Thank you, mom," Tony said, rolling his eyes at Tim's nagging. "Don't worry, McGee, I'm not going to keep you out past your bed time." Tony situated himself on one of the barstools and grabbed a list of specialty drinks from off the bar. "It's just been a while since we've gone out for drinks, just the two of us."
Tim honestly couldn't remember ever going out after work with just Tony, but he didn't mention that. Instead, he chose to talk about their recent case, a safe subject that didn't involve any talk of romance or girlfriends. "Thought we'd never finish that one."
"I'm just glad we caught Pickerson before steam starting pouring out of Gibbs' ears," was all Tony added before taking a gulp of his Long Island Ice Tea. Tim sipped at his slowly, watching warily as Tony finished off his within minutes and ordered another one. "So did you see Ziva's new boyfriend?"
"I don't think that he's her boyfriend, Tony. He's just a date." Tony grunted as he gulped the fresh drink that appeared before him and Tim tried to fill the awkward silence. "Have you seen some of the new agents they've hired? They're even more Probieish than I was." Tim laughed, hoping that bringing up memories of when he was first working on Gibbs' team would get Tony to start teasing him. "I remember when you somehow got me to call you 'sir.' I can't believe it did that for so long. And then when we were on Pacci's case and you were going over to flirt with the woman…" Tim trailed off, realizing that he had accidentally strayed into a taboo territory of conversation. "Uh, and, uh, when…"
"You don't have to pussyfoot around it," Tony told him. "It's okay to talk about the Jeanne situation." He took another gulp. "She was just a woman."
Tim was silent, hoping to tread carefully. "I know…I just know you cared about her."
Tony shrugged. "I've cared about a lot of people, Probie. I cared about Kate. I cared about Paula."
"Well, yeah, but I mean, like, you really cared about her," Tim said, hoping to avoid saying "love."
Tony hadn't even heard him. "I care about Gibbs and Ziva and Abby and Ducky. I even care about you, McGee. So what?" He downed the drink and beckoned the bartender for a refill. "You care about people and they leave you…or sometimes they don't…sometimes you leave them…" A new drink appeared before Tony and he grabbed the glass. Tim, though, grabbed his hand, stopping him from gulping this one down.
"Tony, you don't need to get drunk."
Tony smiled, though it wasn't his usual smile. "I'm just having fun. You should try it." He managed to wrestle his hand free of Tim's grip and took a large gulp of the drink, slamming the glass back down on the bar. "You're always so predictable and…and boring," he semi-slurred. "Goody-goody McGee, the precious little boy scout that all the girls coo over and try to protect from mean, old Tony."
"What are you talking about?"
'Ziva…Abby...They both try to protect you and be nice to you and scold me when I tease you."
"Tony, they've both teased me and pulled pranks on me too."
Tony grumbled something under his breath before finishing off his third drink. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't…doesn't matter. Because you'll always go to them when you have a problem or something, but not to me."
"That's because you'd just poke fun at me and make jokes about the whole thing," Tim told him as he rolled his eyes. As much as Tim wanted to comfort Tony, he wasn't going to make excuses for why Tony wasn't high on his list of people to go to for help.
"But you…you try to help me when things happen to me…but you won't let me help you…"
"Well, in all fairness, I think I'm better at comforting people than you are."
"But you don't give me a chance to help," Tony grumbled. His face was leaning in his hand now and Tim sensed it was time to leave.
"Come on," he ordered, grabbing Tony's arm and pulling him to his feet, "you've had enough to drink. I'll drive you home."
"But my car," Tony weakly protested.
"You can pick it up tomorrow. You're not driving."
"I'm not a child," Tony whined.
"No," Tim agreed, "you're not." A child isn't nearly so difficult.
Tim packed Tony into the passenger seat, securing the seat belt around him, and slid into the driver's seat. Tony sat with his head leaning against the window and barely stirred during the entire ride. Tim didn't dare turn on the radio and risk Tony singing along or complaining about his taste in music, so the only sound that broke through the silence was that of the engine purring.
Tim pulled up to Tony's apartment building and got out. He walked to the passenger side door and opened it slowly. "Here, I'll help you to the door."
"You're such a gentleman, McGee," Tony slurred. He tried to stand on his own, but soon fell against Tim, his arms wrapping about the younger man's neck. Tim sighed as he tried to close the door while still holding Tony up. With one arm around Tony's waist, Tim dragged the man toward the door.
"Can you help just a little, DiNozzo?" he grunted. "I'm not exactly Charles Atlas, as you constantly remind me." He managed to get to the door, but fell upon it, Tony toppling over onto him. "Get off!"
Tony, though, just looked at Tim, eyes half-closed, before leaning his head down and pressing his lips against Tim's. The younger agent froze, not sure if this was real or just a prank and not sure exactly how to handle the situation. When he regained control over his body, he gently, but firmly, pushed Tony off of him and held his body steady. "Let's…uh…let's get you into bed…I mean, into your apartment so, uh, you can go to bed," Tim stammered. Tony nodded wearily and allowed Tim to pull him the rest of the way.
Their first encounter that day had been an awkward one and Tim had a feeling Tony remembered the previous night's kiss. They had greeted each other stiffly and so far Tony had not teased Tim once that day.
Tim frowned. The fact was he wasn't fretting over the kiss because it had felt wrong or disgusting to him. Had he felt nothing during the kiss, he would have merely shrugged it off and gone on with his life. The problem was that the kiss had felt somehow right, like it was supposed to have happened and hadn't just been a drunken mistake on Tony's part. It felt as though their time spent together had been leading up to that one point. Tim, though, didn't know what that meant about him and, more importantly, what it meant about Tony. Did this mean Tony had been harboring some secret attraction to Tim, or had it simply been the alcohol that had pushed Tony to act the way he had? Tim couldn't be sure, but he knew that things could never be normal between him and Tony until he found out.
When Tony volunteered to get lunch for everyone, Tim stood. "I'll come too, Tony. I mean, you never get my order right anyway," he added as an explanation as to why he was going. He knew that Tony would know the true reason why.
Tony looked to Gibbs who waved the two of them off before shrugging. "Come on, kid."
"I hate when you call me 'kid,'" Tim told him when the elevators closed.
"Probably why I do it, kid."
Tim made a face, but didn't provoke Tony any further. They both knew each was purposely skirting around the true topic that was on their minds, but there was an unspoken agreement to not bring it up until they were in the car. Still, the anticipation was building up between them. By the time they were both securely in Tim's car – Tony's was still parked at the bar – they were nearly drowning in the thick tension.
Tim started the engine, but didn't say anything. He wanted to see if Tony would start the discussion or if he would be required to get things rolling. When he was met with silence, Tim let out an exasperated sigh. "I guess I'll open the can of worms: what was that?"
"What?" Tony asked, feigning ignorance. When Tim gave him a look, Tony relented. "It was a kiss, Elf Lord. I know you're not nearly as experienced as I am, but I figured even you had been kissed before."
"That's not what I meant, Tony, and you know it."
"What? Is it wrong for one guy to kiss another guy?"
"No," Tim said with a frown. "But this wasn't just one guy kissing another guy; this was you kissing me. And I never said it was wrong."
Tony was silent for a moment. "So…you think it was right?"
Tim felt his cheeks and ears burning and he didn't dare look Tony in the eye. "I just want to know what fueled it. Was it the alcohol or…"
"Or…love?" Tony didn't ask it sarcastically or snidely. His tone was genuine, a side of Tony that Tim rarely saw. "I wish I could tell you."
"I just want to know where we stand right now, Tony."
"Well, we're actually sitting, McGee, so we're not standing anywhere."
Tim found Tony's utter inability to remain serious for more than ten seconds both endearing and infuriating. "Damn it, Tony! You know what I mean!"
"No need to lose your temper, McHothead," Tony said in a mocking tone. "I don't know where we stand. I don't know where I stand right now."
"Did you want to kiss me or were you just being drunk?"
Tony snorted. "I know I was really drunk last night, but I can still tell the difference between a girl and a guy."
"You didn't answer my question."
This time it was Tony who was exasperated. "Fine, McGee! Yes, I wanted to kiss you!"
"Why?"
"Damned if I know!" Tony pressed his head against the window, much like he had the night before while in his drunken stupor. "I just wanted to and so I did. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm the kind of guy who does what he wants to do and to hell with any consequences."
"I have noticed," Tim said wryly.
"Look, McGee, I'm sorry if you were upset by me kissing you…it wasn't my intention."
"I wasn't upset," Tim admitted almost shyly. "Just…confused."
"Yeah, well that makes two of us."
They were silent momentarily and the two shared a look, each trying to find some hint of how the other was feeling. Tim cleared his throat. "So, uh, where does this lead us?" He braced himself for some smart ass retort from Tony.
The older agent's response, though, was the most sincere Tim had ever heard. "Wherever you want it to, Probie."
AN: So I finally wrote NCIS slash! To be fair, it was only a matter of time!
