Season 11, pre-Tiva, gen, angst. Takes place post-Ziva's departure. Tony deals.
Video Games I: Explosions
On screen, Tony's avatar dies for the fifth time.
It wouldn't normally be a big deal: he's a recreational gamer, not an avid one like McGee, and so of course. It happens.
Except they've only been playing twenty minutes.
As Tony respawns, McGee holds an internal debate. When, within seconds, the newly spawned character is sent hurtling into dead air, he turns the console off and slides his gaze sideways to where Tony is sitting next to him. The other man's frame is held so tautly that, rather than sinking into the couch's overstuffed cushions, he very nearly hovers atop them. The television screen has gone black, but he continues to stare straight ahead, white-knuckled fingers frozen on the now useless controller.
"McGee," Tony says. His breath comes out loud and slightly ragged in the sudden silence.
"Tony, we don't have to play."
"McGee."
It's a request – demand, really – to resume their game, McGee knows. Except it's clear neither Tony's head nor his heart is in it. "We could start a movie, once the pizza gets here," he suggests instead. At that, Tony finally tears his eyes away from the blank TV. McGee pretends not to notice how they're underlined by deep bruises, their whites too bloodshot. He just adds, "Your choice?"
Right away, Tony says, "No. Movies give you too much time to think."
There's no response to that.
"I'd rather blow things up," he continues, turning his face away again.
McGee sighs, but takes the hint. He leans forward and hits the console's on-button.
"Does that mean you're going to start actually landing hits?" he asks as the game loads.
Tony's lips quirk upward into a grim facsimile of a smile. McGee decides to count it as a win.