Author: Furyan Goddess
Title: One In The Morning
Rating: G
Fandom: NCIS
Disclaimer:Don't own Tony or anything from NCIS
Summary: Tony's working late... so is someone else
Pairing: Tony/?
Archive: Yes but tell me where
Feedback: Yes Please but if it's a major gripe, PM me
Authors Note: not Beta'd. I wrote this last year about this time and just found it again on LJ (after changing computers) One Shot from a woman's POV
The world is a different place at one in the morning. All shadow and muted light. Hushed whispers and gentle rustles. The day's energy is spent, leaving you tired and listless, but unable to sleep. At one in the morning, you can't escape yourself, your flaws, your fears, and your lack of self worth.
It's cooler then too, a gentle breeze blowing away the heat of the day, or the fierce bitter wind of winter, both of which make you lonely and achy. Leaving you wanting more and needing something that you try desperately not to think about.
The night can be tranquil or violent, sultry or lonely. You can't lie to yourself at that time of the night, it's no use. So you sit, reflecting on the days past, the bleak future, and the empty and lonely bed waiting at home for you.
The ping of the elevator pulls you from your musing with a mild interest. Who else shares your struggle with the dark? The doors open and your breath catches. You can see he is tired, but his clothes never show the long hours. His jaw is shadowed, his under eye smudged with weariness.
The soft glow of your lamp catches his eye and he notices you with a smirk. You begin to gather up your stuff and try to look like you were just leaving, working late out of choice, not avoidance.
"You leaving?" He asks. His voice even more sexy with a strange rasp to it.
"Yeah, you?" You respond, trying not to shake with wanting him.
"Hold on a minute, I'll walk you to your car."
You think of every excuse to leave before he has the chance, because you know if he touches you, just one brush, you will shatter, and/or perhaps beg. But he's fast, and he is there beside you, smelling like he just got out of the shower only moments ago, not hours.
The light of the elevator is a harsh contrast to the soft glow of your lamp and you feel exposed. You glance at him, making him look at you and your eyes lock. Once again you are struck by the sheer beauty of him. His overwhelming manliness, the external confidence and his inter insecurities. He clears his throat as to speak, as the doors slide open with a ping. You both step out into the unrelenting grey of the parking garage. You try to clear the cobwebs and lust to remember where you parked only to realize it doesn't matter, there are only two cars in the lot.
He walks you to yours as you fish for your keys. Will he realize that you had found them long before you let on? You can't look at him as you whisper thank you. Your name soft on his lips is your undoing; you look up and meet his eye. He understands what you can't put into words that either one of you can't force yourself to say. He nods, turns on his heel, to his car and waits for you to pull out first. After all, he is just making sure you get home safe. A lot can happen at one in the morning.