Tim stood in the center of his closet and stared at the clothes.
Not long after prying himself from Delilah, he had hastily thrown on a loose button up and old jeans before returning to the living room to lounge with his friends and teammates, smiling happily as they shared stories of their fears and worries and cases he had missed. The healthy dinner Delilah had been preparing was left forgotten in the kitchen as Ellie arrived with a stack of hot pizza, followed by Ducky and Palmer with a bottle of champagne.
Tim had basked in their company, and their words. For a few hours he almost felt normal; even managing a whole piece of Hawaiian pizza.
But now, Abbey had left, finally giving in to her need to find Gibbs, Ducky had driven a tipsy Palmer home, and Ellie had prodded Nick out the door when he had begun to get maudlin, trying to apologize again and again.
It was just him and Delilah.
When the door first shut behind Bishop and Torres, Delilah had shifted on the couch with speed he couldn't have predicted, catching him in a long passionate kiss. He returned the embrace and even felt himself reacting to his desire but both of their physical and emotional exhaustion had the kiss fading into a comforting embrace. Before long she had pushed off his shoulder, shooing him to get into 'real comfy clothes' before they passed out on the sofa instead of their bed.
So here he stood, dumbstruck by his own collection of clothes.
Why did he have so many t-shirts? Each one cleaner and softer than the last.
The sound of Delilah's chair rolled closer and he grabbed the shirt on top, flipping it over his head before she turned the corner and could see the bruising still across his torso. He was just as aware of the rope burns on his wrists and knew she was too; her fingers had gilded up his sleeve when they were on the couch and he could feel her tension as she realized the damage there.
He turned and smiled as she sat in the closet doorway, "Ready for bed?"
Instead of the expected smile in return, Delilah began to cry.
"Honey?" The grin slid off his face and Tim knelt in front of her.
She shook her head, blinking away her tears, "I'm sorry, I know I said I was done crying but I just missed you so much, every night and here you are, looking just like you..."
"Shhh, shhh, shhh…It's okay." He leaned up to press his forehead against hers, "You never have to apologize to me."
Her chin wavered and she blinked back more tears before placing her hands on his face and pulling him close for a deep kiss.
When they broke apart he had to swallow and take a moment to collect himself.
"Well..." Delilah tugged lightly on his bearded chin, "Almost like yourself."
He sat back on his heels, "You know, I decided that my gift to you is that you get to decide what I do with it."
Her brow furrowed, "You mean you want to keep it?"
"I mean that I would if you want me to." He clarified, "You've never seen me with a beard; it's your choice."
She blinked, tilting her head, eyes tracing his face. Finally she tilted back, "What do you think of it?"
He had considered the question as he brushed his teeth earlier. The facial hair wasn't trendy or hipster like the 5 o'clock shadow that Torres always seemed to have. Nor was it overwhelming and bushy like many of the special ops men he had met. It was unmistakably there, but understated. It made him look older, experienced.
When he looked in the mirror the new face that looked back matched his mental image of himself, unlike the peppy clean cut visage that had smiled back at him from the various photos Delilah had posed in every room.
He shrugged, "I don't really have an opinion."
Her eyes narrowed but she nodded, slowly. "Well. I think you should keep it, for now." Her hands stroked his jawline, "Tomorrow morning I'll help you shape it, clean up the edges."
"Sounds like a plan." He nodded, planting a kiss to her forehead and moving to the bed.
He lay back, containing a jerk reflex at the unfamiliar sensation of falling in to the soft memory foam mattress. He exhaled, they had done a lot of research before buying this mattress, it was perfect for all his pressure points and had always provided a solid night's sleep.
Delilah rolled close, gently laying her head on his chest and draping an arm across his ribs before shutting of the voice activated lights. "Lights off."
Tim inhaled deeply through his nose. This is where he wanted to be. At home, embracing his wife. It was hard to believe that it was only that morning that he had woken up on the Larson.
Granted, it was after 1am and he had been awake since 0500 of whatever timezone the Larson had been in.
He was exhausted.
But he couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed. First they drifted to the darkness behind the bathroom door. Then, his heart sped up as he fought to remember if they had locked the door behind Torres and Bishop.
He flexed his shoulder blades, the cloud like mattress seeming to loose it's comfort.
He wondered what Gibbs was doing; if he was home or if he had stayed in the office or some alternative. Ellie mentioned she had seen him, that the only person missing from tonight's team reunion had declined her invitation. His stomach clenched and he had to consciously resist the urge to roll out of bed and call the other man.
It's not like he had anything to say.
So instead, Tim stayed where he was, looking up to the dark ceiling and wondering...wondering and worrying and not sleeping.
