Chapter 10

The anger fuels Tim for the rest of the day, through the monotony of confirming the warrant, the intermittent stares he feels from all sides of the cubicle, and the growing certainty in his gut that he must be in the wrong place in his life if everything gets this pear-shaped during his everyday routine.

He closes down his workstation the moment Gibbs clears them to go—half an hour early due to the overtime they've been putting in on this case. Tony's on his tail before Tim makes it to the end of the hallway.

"We still meeting Annie Wilkes tonight at the townhouse in Crystal City?" Tony runs to catch him.

"Her name's Jena Santos," Tim corrects for the thousandth time, simply not able to appreciate Tony's Misery reference at the moment. "And no, I cancelled on her a few hours ago."

"How about dinner, then?" Tony persists.

Tim bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs, not wanting to get locked up with Tony, who's not at all above using the emergency stop to trap them together. "I don't feel like it tonight, Tony," he shakes his head. "I just want to go home and be done with today."

"Okay, I'll grab some Chinese and meet you there," Tony pushes.

Tim gives Tony a sideways glance, "How many times have you pointed out that my apartment is not exactly conducive to having company over?"

Tony grabs his arm, yanking him to a stop. "So come over to my place," he insists. "You can leave anytime you want, and I'll even let you win at Guitar Hero."

"Please," Tim jerks his head backward. "I'm so much better at it than you are, it's ridiculous!"

"So prove it," Tony squeezes his arm, and Tim feels warm for the first time all day.

He glances up to Tony's eyes before dropping his gaze down to the place where Tony grips his arm. He shrugs one shoulder and gives one solid shake of his head.

"Come on," Tony cajoles, grabs Tim's other arm as well, and then shifts Tim's body back and forth like a marionette. "Greasy food, video games," he peers down until he finds Tim's eye, "Porn?"

Tim chuffs but can't help but grin. He feels himself caving and knows Tony senses it too.

"Come on," Tony urges one more time, tugging Tim's shirt sleeve in the direction of their cars.

Tim shrugs and turns, letting Tony lead him over to where he's parked. He sees Tony hesitate once Tim unlocks the doors to his Porsche. Tony bites his lip and doesn't quite loosen his grasp enough for Tim to open the door.

"I'll meet you there," Tim promises, raising his eyebrows at Tony's continued grip.

Tony smiles and lets him go. Tim considers, for maybe half a second, going home anyway, blowing Tony off, but Tony would just come after him regardless. He wouldn't let Tim go and then he'd bitch for half the night about it besides. The thought makes Tim smile right back.

"Thanks, Tony," Tim says as he ducks into the vehicle.

"I'll see you there," Tony points to Tim as he closes the door for him.

Tony hustles around to his own car, and Tim lets him lead the way to his place, not that he needs to give the idea of trailing behind any conscious thought whatever because Tim's the most cautious driver on the team, always keeping at or under the speed limit, always mindful of obeying the road signs along the way. Tony always says it's a damn shame Tim doesn't open up the throttle and take on the highway full force what with a car like his. And it's not that Tim doesn't want to, sometimes at least, it's just that it's hard to forget what it feels like to crash when you let things get away from you.

They arrive at Tony's fairly quickly. Tony flicks on his PS3 just as Tim enters the apartment behind him. Tim locks and bolts the door right away, knowing Tony prefers to secure the latches as soon as he walks in. Tim walks into the kitchen, checking out the various takeout menus where they sit beside the microwave.

"What do you think about subs?" he hollers towards the living room.

"Get me a meatball sub," Tony yells back. "Oh, and get some sodas. I ran out last night."

Tim makes the order, tempted by the idea of a meatball sub himself, but he gets a turkey sandwich instead, trying to keep the calories down. He adds a coke for Tony and a diet for himself, then starts weighing the benefits of a salad against his craving for potato chips. He gets one of each. Tony'll want chips anyway, so Tim'll just make him share a couple with him.

They trash talk while they compete on Guitar Hero but don't say much otherwise. They take a break from the game play when the food arrives, and Tony suggests a movie while they eat. To Tim's surprise, he breaks out Star Wars—Episode V at that. Tony always makes fun of Tim because it's his favorite in the series, though Tony's one to talk since he loves watching the Ewoks—the Ewoks! Still, it's not as though it's The Phantom Menace or anything, so Tim usually lets it slide.

They spur on the Rebels through the evacuation of Hoth and make fun of Han and Leia when they exit the 'Falcon in the asteroid 'cave' wearing only oxygen masks. They're already finished with their sandwiches before Tony says a word about their bad day.

"That was a good save you made today, Probie," Tony throws out there.

"Mmm," Tim hums noncommittally, then looks down to the remnants of his salad and wrinkles his nose at the wilting lettuce. He leans over to the middle of the couch and steals a chip from Tony's snack bag. He stuffs it in his mouth, hoping to emphasize how very much he doesn't want to have this conversation by keeping his mouth full.

Tony chuckles, "I couldn't believe it when you stared Gibbs down like that in the hallway," Tony grabs Tim's attention by skipping the bullshit he normally would have spouted about how Gibbs really does respect Tim, and it was just an off day, and blah, blah, blah.

Tim swallows the chip and takes a quick sip of his soda. He bites his lip, considering, and Tony stays quiet beside him for once, seeming to realize Tim's working up to something.

Tim puts his salad on the end table beside him and turns to look Tony right in the eye when he tells him, "I've been thinking about transferring to another team."

Tony swallows hard. He blinks and purses his lips, but there's nothing in his body language that says that he's surprised at the announcement. "Don't," Tony says, his voice as small as a child's, and Tim's reminded of just how much Tony hates change. "It'll get better," Tony claims but ducks his head when he says it.

"No, Tony," Tim shakes his head and keeps his gaze right on his partner. "I've said that to myself for a long time, but it hasn't gotten better, and it won't."

"You don't know that," Tony insists.

Tim shakes his head in disbelief, "What is there not to know? Gibbs has no idea how unique my skill set is. He has absolutely no appreciation for how hard I work because he doesn't understand what I do. He's never even tried to understand." Tim thumps his thigh with the side of his palm in frustration. "For crying out loud, Tony, he has so little respect for me as an agent, that he almost never sends me out in the field if he can avoid it!"

Tony throws the remnants of his sandwich at the coffee table, stands and starts pacing between the couch and his big screen TV. He's breathing hard, his face indecisive when he turns back towards McGee for the third time. A split second afterward, a look of resolve comes across his features and then he turns on Tim, "It's not like you've ever fucking tried to make it work either!"

Tim narrows his eyes and jumps up to face DiNozzo. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tony's breathing heavily from his mouth with teeth clenched and lips curling and uncurling almost spastically, like he doesn't want to continue, and Tim suddenly knows with certainty that whatever Tony's got to say is gonna hurt like a bitch. "You come into work," Tony's teeth clench harder as he spits out the words, "and you take whatever Gibbs dishes out, which granted, we all do to a certain extent, but you never put yourself out there. You always let him choose for you, and you never push for more. You don't take any risks!"

Tim steps forward, blinking in amazement. "Do you have any idea what sort of penalties I could face for breaking into all the computer systems I've hacked for Gibbs? Today wasn't even the tip of the iceberg! If someone had caught me breaking into the CIA, I'd be seriously fucked! I mean GiTMO fucked! I've taken more chances than you ever have for this job," he shoves a finger into Tony's chest.

Tony looks down to the digit pressing into his shirt, flicks his eyes right back up to Tim's. "And yet you won't stand up to Gibbs."

"Oh, like you do," he jerks his chin towards Tony.

"Yeah," Tony nods, "I do, but I don't bother arguing about bullshit. I tell him what matters when it's really on the line, and this," he swallows hard. "You are really on the line, but you are the one who needs to talk to him. You're the one who has to stand up and demand what you want because he's not going to respect you if I'm the one fighting your battles."

Tim drops the finger and lifts his chin, "I've never asked you to fight my battles."

"No," Tony shakes his head, lips curling upward in the middle, a look of displeasure (or maybe even disgust?) sweeping over his features. "You don't ask anybody for help, do you? Not even when you really need it."

The air seems to rush from Tim's lungs, leaving a vacuum in its place. "I came to you, didn't I?" Tim finds himself blinking rapidly, wondering if this thing between them—this closeness that had only just begun—was ending. "I asked you to help me with this thing with Abby."

"Yeah," Tony wraps a firm hand around Tim's upper arm and rubs his thumb along Tim's bicep. "And I'm glad you did."

Tim purses his lips and looks down between them, not sure how this conversation started with him being defensive and led to him feeling lost.

"I want you to keep coming to me," Tony continues softly, dipping his head a little to get back into Tim's line of sight, "But you have to know you can go to Gibbs, too."

Tim shakes his head, but doesn't move away from Tony's grip. "I don't—" he winces, feeling like he owes Tony this honesty but not sure if he can force it out of himself, "He's not there for me like he is for you. It's easy for you to go to him, but God, Tony, he can't even stand to stay in the same room with me when it's just the two of us! We run out of things to say to each other within a couple minutes and then he shuts himself into whatever he's working on or just leaves the room." Tim blinks and bites his lip. "How am I supposed to—" he sniffs, "I can't—it's like working with my father every day!"

Tony visibly startles at that, and Tim twists out of his partner's startled grasp. He shows him his back, takes a few steps away, and swipes at his eyes before Tony can see firsthand how wet they are.

"I thought your father…" Tony stops and starts. "I mean, I guess we all thought…"

"I know what you thought," Tim shuts his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. "I just…how do you contradict an assumption like that without being disrespectful?"

Tim hears Tony close the distance between them, "Disrespectful to you father," Tony clarifies softly, though Tim doesn't know how it's not completely obvious who he means.

Tim shrugs, wipes his nose with the end of his sleeve even though it's a completely disgusting thing to do. "At least Gibbs doesn't—" he blinks just realizing what he's about to reveal. "At least I had a chance of getting it right with Gibbs," he settles on saying.

Tony reaches up with both hands to clasp Tim's shoulders. He squeezes, and Tim tries not to but finds himself relaxing into the touch anyway. "You should talk to him, to Gibbs," Tony clears up before Tim can relate the suggestion to his father. "He's not going to push you away because you tell him you want something different from him."

Tim takes a harsh breath and lets it go as slowly as possible, trying to keep his breathing under control. "I don't even know how I could possibly start that conversation."

Tony moves a little closer to his back, until he's near enough to talk softly just beside Tim's ear, until it seems like he's close enough to press his body up against Tim's back if he wanted to. "Forget social niceties with Gibbs," Tony's softly spoken advice tickles his ear. "Just go in there and say exactly what you want and exactly what pisses you off. He'll be glad to hear it, I promise."

Tim nods, sniffs one more time, but the sound seems so conspicuous in the slight space between them, "I should go," he tells Tony, actually tries to move to grab his things, but Tony's fingers tug at his shoulders—just a little—and Tim stops moving altogether, grateful for the insistence of Tony's grip. He doesn't really want to leave. It's just that he feels so naked right now.

"At least watch the end of the movie," Tony prods, calling Tim's attention to Han and Leia, about to realize they walked into a trap on Cloud City. "I want to see what happens," Tony teases, and it's just the right thing to make Tim laugh.

Tim brings a hand up to Tony's where it grasps his shoulder, and he squeezes. "I gotta," he gestures in the direction of the bathroom, not turning yet, embarrassed enough without Tony seeing his face.

"Yeah, okay," Tony lets him go. He keeps the movie on and doesn't look behind him when Tim enters the bathroom. Tim splashes water on his face and blows his nose twice. He washes his hands and just looks at himself in the mirror, wondering if he's lost some of Tony's respect for breaking down like he did.

He shakes his head. Tony's not the type to hold something like this against me, he reminds himself, but he hesitates almost another full minute before he walks back into the living room.

"Hey, just in time," Tony glances up when Tim returns, but then quickly, but not too quickly, looks back to the movie, "Luke's about to stand on his head and fantasize about his sister."

"It was a vision, Tony, not a fantasy," Tim digs in by reflex as he retakes his seat. The start of the argument's like an immediate balm, helping to restore his equilibrium right away.

"Please, Tim!" Tony jerks his head backward. "They kissed at the beginning of the movie. He was totally diggin' her before he found out they were related."

"Eh, I would concede he was into her maybe a little," Tim crinkles his nose, "but if you look at that scene, you can tell Luke gains more enjoyment out of one upping Han than he does out of kissing Leia," Tim points to the screen.

"Ha!" Tony huffs, and when Tim looks over, the older man's looking right back at him. "Every guy likes a hot girl to grab him by the ears and kiss him."

Tim shrugs his head to one side, "Maybe Luke would have rather Han grab him by the ears and kiss him," he posits with what he knows to be a lazy smile across his face, feeling unexpectedly intrigued by the idea himself.

"You think Luke was gay?" Tony raises an eyebrow, and the look makes Tim nervous for a second because, for a moment, there's a heaviness that almost feels like Tim's brought up a taboo between them. But there's no derision in Tony's face or tone, only curiosity and a little amusement, maybe a hint of out and out interest in his voice.

Tim tilts his head again, smile still solid on his face. "Are you telling me you didn't notice the huge and embarrassing man-crush Luke has on Han?"

"A man-crush is hardly the same think as a crush-crush," Tony looks at him and opens both palms to the ceiling as he reverts to junior high terminology.

Tim shakes his head and readjusts his position on the couch, turning his whole body towards Tony. "But how different is it really?" he asks. "A crush is all about interests and chemistry, whether it's a man-crush or a crush-crush," he grins anew to use Tony's term.

"Well, it's not like a guy wants to have sex with a man-crush," Tony shakes his head, but the motion and even his words lack the vigor of his usual arguments, like he's waiting to see how Tim might prove him wrong.

"You're sure about that?" Tim tilts his head, intrigued by the fascination on Tony's face. "Maybe that bit of chemistry behind a man-crush just needs an extra push, a bit of permission to play around away from social norms."

"So all guys with man-crushes want to go to bed with them?"

"Maybe," Tim weighs the idea, head swaying back and forth as he considers, "maybe not. But maybe all that chemistry really is a repressed sexual attraction."

Tony licks his lips, and Tim can't help but remember now, too late, Tony's reaction to that metro detective last year. Ziva had been quite vocal in calling the fast burning friendship a man-crush.

"You could be right, McFreud," Tony says, one side of his lips curling upward, "but I wouldn't start yelling the theory from the rooftops just yet," Tony turns back to the movie as he concludes the thought.

Tim watches Tony's profile another moment before forcing his own eyes back to the screen. He feels his breath coming a bit faster. He tries to get lost in the movie, hoping to slow down the rapid rise and fall of his chest, hoping Tony doesn't notice, wondering what Tony would do if he did notice.

The movie ends almost without Tim realizing. Tony suggests another, but when Tim checks his watch, the hour's a little too late to finish another film tonight and still make it home at a decent hour. He's just about to shake his head when Tony adds:

"You could just sleep over," the words come out nonchalantly, but Tim can't help but feel an added weight to them. "You have an extra set of clothes in your car, don't you?"

"I—" Tim's brow crinkles, "Yeah…" his voice trails off. He feels like he shouldn't accept, but he honestly wants to find a reason to stay.

Tony shrugs, "So grab your bag, and we'll make a night of it."

Tim glances at the couch, considering.

"It's not like you have to take the sofa," Tony dismisses the idea, though Tim hadn't even thought that far ahead. "I've got a queen," he points down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tim's eyes flick up to Tony's in a hurry. Looking up from beneath his lashes, Tim can see the nervousness in his friend's gaze, and suddenly Tim relaxes because he knows now that he's not the only one who's worried about screwing this up and overstepping the new boundaries they're forming between them.

"Okay," Tim acquiesces, eyes still locked with Tony's.

Tony nods. He jumps up from the couch and over to his gigantic movie collection, "Ooh! What do you think of Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels?"

"Never seen it," Tim shakes his head and smiles, just waiting for Tony's reaction.

"You've never—Probie, we're going to have to work on your cinematic education!" he proclaims, scandalized.

"Yeah, alright," Tim waves his hand in concession, smile still stretching wide across his lips. "I'll go get my bag if you want to set it up."

"Got it covered," Tony reaches into his cabinet and unerringly picks up the exact DVD he wants.

Tim's smile lasts the whole way as he makes a run for the car, yanks his lock box and his bag of spare clothes and toiletries from the trunk, and scurries back up to Tony's apartment. The look of pleased anticipation on Tony's face makes him glad he took Tony up on the offer.

Tony excitedly starts buzzing about the movie the second Tim retakes his seat. Tim lets the sound wash over him as he kicks off his shoes and leans back against the cushions, settling in for the duration.