"You're late, McGee. Have fun at the concert?" Tony asked as Tim walked to his desk.
"Yeah, Tony, it was fun. Ran later than expected." Which was technically true. He'd expected it to be over at ten, but a double encore meant it went until 10:20. "And we got shakes after, so all in all, kind of late night."
Of course, it wasn't the late night that had him running late. It was the fact that it was close to seven when he got out of Abby's tub. (Really, he has to find out what sort of water heater she's got, 'cause the water was still running hot when they got out.)
So, he drove like a maniac back to his place. Grabbed a very fast shower. He was plenty clean after Abby's but he also smelled like her soap, shampoo, and conditioner. And changed into something that Don Johnson wouldn't have worn to work on Miami Vice. That got him to eight, the time he normally gets to work.
Bolting down some breakfast while driving back to the Navy Yard, once again, like a maniac, meant he got there only half an hour late. The sort of thing that could be explained by whacking the sleep button one time too many.
The adrenaline of driving like a maniac is a good thing, because it killed his I-just-got-laid, blissed-out, ultra-relaxed mood that Tony can spot from a mile away.
So, he didn't have Tony hounding him about his sex life. And besides a few polite questions about the concert, everything seemed to be going well on the stealth romance department.