(A/N: Yay, third chapter! This one's mostly McGee's point of view, with some more unrequited love, a bit of a songfic at the end and non-explicit, McNozzo... maybe-slash. I'm giving nothing away here! Thanks again to the people who've reviewed so far- it means a lot. Sorry for being so horrible to Abby in the previous chapter! As always, I own nothing. I hope I'm doing okay so far...)

Tim McGee had never been a party person. He doubted he ever would be, even if he lived to be one hundred. Years of being shunned in high school, as if he had a permanent 'Kick Me' sign stuck on his back and 'Nerd' tattooed on his forehead, had seen to it that McGee never got invited to a single one of the parties the others in his class would obsess about beforehand, and rave about afterwards. The gossipy Monday morning exchanges had been as alien to him as if his classmates were speaking a foreign language; and the few parties he had been to consisted of him and a few equally out-of-it friends pretending to drink the cans of weak beer they had swiped from one of their fathers with gusto - McGee barely sipping his in terror that his parents would find out - before the conversation dwindled to awkward, monosyllabic replies; and somebody finally cracked and suggested a game of Dungeons and Dragons.

Years later, McGee still found clubs and parties a little awkward, and he'd much rather have been at home with a good RPG or a book, but he had agreed to go to the Winter Celebration (God forbid anyone call it a Christmas Party within earshot of the Director), since the rest of the team were going. And, secretly, he had looked forward to the excuse to gaze at the oblivious object of his affections all evening long. But now, after a few hours, the novelty had... not worn off as such, because he could stare at that beautiful face he knew so well all evening and not get tired of seeing it. But standing on the sidelines and watching everyone else have a good time was making McGee feel like a lonely high school kid again, watching as the man he quietly and inconspicuously (he hoped) adored paid attention to everyone but him.

McGee sighed to himself. He wished he'd accepted Ducky's offer of a lift, so that he could have spent the evening getting blissfully drunk to take the sting off being more or less ignored by the colleague he was not in love with. He thought about finding Ducky and checking if the offer was still open, but he hadn't seen the older man for a while, and he'd have felt rude asking even if the medical examiner was around.
The party was beginning to die down a little, or at least decrease in size - Abby had disappeared to look for Ziva, and where she'd got to was anyone's guess, the Director seemed to have disappeared into thin air; and Ducky had gone, too. Which, out of their immediate team, left himself, Gibbs, and... Tony.

Oh, God, that man... it made McGee's heart ache to look at him. His smile, his hair, his deep blue eyes - everything about him was stunning to McGee, his handsome features just as breathtaking every time he looked at Tony as they had been the first time, and every time since. He had been attracted to Tony since the moment they had met, and even though Tony took delight in teasing him at every opportunity, he found himself enjoying it. It was enough to be paid any attention whatsoever by Tony, sarcastic and ridiculing or otherwise - besides, he knew Tony was not a malicious person, and even though some days the teasing cut deep, he knew that Tony didn't mean to badly upset him. Embarrass him, yes, but not really hurt him. Tony was a good man above all else, and it was what McGee loved the most about him.

Deep in his daydreams, McGee noticed with a start that Tony himself was looking right back at him. How obvious he must have looked, staring right at him for who knew how long! McGee felt his face burning as he looked hastily away, fixing his eyes instead on Palmer, who had fallen asleep on top of Ziva's desk and appeared to be sucking his thumb. He had a horrible feeling that Tony's eyes were lingering on him curiously, but he didn't dare look back up - not now.

Why did he have to fall for Tony of all people? Why a man who would never return his feelings, never look at McGee with the eyes of anything but a colleague? He had lain awake for countless nights, dreaming up a multitude of far-fetched scenarios in which Tony returned his feelings fully, had gone through the pain of hiding them just like McGee had, and after one or both of them confessed all to each other would usually lead to them kissing passionately, and then… well, whatever happened next. But the wishing wasn't so bad – it was just knowing that there was no point. Tony was straight. And even if he wasn't, why would he ever look twice at a man as plain as McGee? Tony could get anyone he wanted, and from what McGee had heard he usually did. He deserved someone as effortlessly stunning as he was; and what did he, Timothy McGee, have that could ever make Tony want him? He was just McGeek, the Probie, the butt of everyone's jokes. He had always been last on everyone's list, and it was the same with Tony– in fact, this was the textbook example, the demonstration that should be put in a glass case and preserved forever for future generations to study. He was in love with a man who would never love him back, and would find the very idea either hilarious, or repulsive. And he hated it, but there was nothing he could do. He had tried to forget it, and it had always come back to him.

A familiar tune reached his ears through his introspective reverie; and his head snapped up at the sound. This was definitely not a Christmas song. Everyone around him seemed to be looking up thinking the same thing, and he was confused for a moment when he realised that many of them were turning to look at him. Then, he remembered that it was he who had organised the music for the evening – and he felt his ears start to burn, closely followed by his cheeks, as the reason why came back to him.
This song… for some reason, it always made him think of Tony, and on impulse he had added it to the evening's playlist. Now, he could have kicked himself for it. Turning around, he was evaluating his options for a hasty exit when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He wanted the floor to swallow him up when he looked over his shoulder and saw who it was.

"Tony-", he began.
But he was wordlessly cut off when he registered the look in the other mans eyes. He had imagined it often enough, but had never taken into account how weak it would make him at the knees – it was a look almost like hunger, and so intense he felt that he could drown in it. He had to remind himself to breathe as Tony looked right back at him with his hand still on McGee's shoulder, rendered unable to form words but desperate to say something.

"What...?" he managed to say, his breath catching in his suddenly constricted throat.
At this, Tony finally smiled, the oh-so-familiar smile that lit up his whole face and made McGee melt inside every time. But there was something different. It seemed somehow softer, less ready to deliver a witty one-liner. Although McGee knew that it was probably just the large amount of alcohol Tony had managed to knock back over the course of the evening; a tiny, hopeful part of his mind was daring to wonder if the way Tony was staring at him meant what he so badly wanted it to...

"I never knew you were a Lifehouse fan, Probie", Tony said lightly, his words only a little slurred. McGee blushed, cursing himself inwardly as he did so.
"I... well, I guess... you learn something new every day" he managed to stammer. Tony grinned.
"It's alright, McGee. They're good", he replied. Then, he paused, as if he was considering what to say next. McGee braced himself for a joke at his expense.

"Want to dance?"
McGee was sure he'd misheard.
"S-sorry?" he replied.
"D'you want to dance?" Tony repeated. He was still smiling slightly, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a way that made it a struggle for McGee not to just kiss him there and then, and to hell with the consequences. As it was, he was breathing shallowly, sure that this was all just a vivid daydream brought on by the dubious ingredients of Mrs. Mallard's mince pies, or a drunken practical joke being played on him. Perhaps Tony already knew about McGee's feelings for him and had decided to have a little fun by messing around with them.

"...Me?" he asked, in a small, stunned voice barely more than a whisper.
Tony took a small step closer to McGee, their faces only a few agonizing inches apart.
"Who else?" Tony replied, in a low voice. McGee swallowed, his throat dry.
"...Alright, then" he answered, barely able to believe what was happening.

Tony grinned, and took hold of McGee's wrist, leading him into the small space that had been cleared by pushing the desks back to make a makeshift dance floor. A few people were watching them and whispering, but McGee barely noticed any of them. All he noticed was Tony. Tony DiNozzo, the Tony DiNozzo, who was currently holding one of McGee's hands in his own, his other warm, firm and surprisingly soft hand resting on McGee's shoulder.
"You okay, McGee?" he asked quietly. McGee managed to nod, by way of a reply- but then asked the biggest question plaguing him, spoiling this otherwise perfect moment.

"Why are you doing this, Tony?" he said, looking right at the other man. Tony raised his eyebrows a fraction, meeting McGee's gaze.
"...Why not?" he responded. Then, he drew McGee a little closer to him, so that the other man's head was beside his, his chin almost resting on Tony's muscular shoulder. He was close enough to feel Tony's heart beating inside his chest, beneath the dark shirt - maybe purple or navy blue, he couldn't tell with the bullpen only illuminated by fairy lights - and smell the alcohol on his breath. The song - that damned song! - was still playing, just coming to the chorus. He could see a few other people tentatively joining them on the dance floor, probably thinking that they couldn't attract any more attention than the two men standing and swaying together in the centre of the room.

All of the things that I want to say
Just aren't coming out right,
I'm tripping on words,
You've got my head spinning,
I don't know where to go from here...

This was the kind of moment McGee had dreamt about. So he couldn't for the life of him understand why he felt so miserable about it.
Maybe it had been Tony's offhand reply of "Why not?" - an answer that as good as confirmed that Tony didn't feel at all the same way about McGee. And although he knew that it was going nowhere, as much as he would have liked to hope that it would if it was anyone other than the magnificent, untouchable Tony DiNozzo, he couldn't bring himself to stop what they were doing. It was too perfect, more than anything McGee could have imagined would ever happen to him, between them.
It was a dream come true, and it was breaking McGee's heart.

Cause it's you and me, and all of the people
With nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it's you and me, and all of the people
And I don't know why,
I can't keep my eyes off of you...

So he closed his eyes, ignoring the prickle of tears beneath his closed lids; rested his head on Tony's shoulder - feeling the other man shift slightly beside him - and kept on dancing, determined to make this one moment - all he would ever have - last as long as possible.
He didn't care who was watching them any more...

There's something about you now
I can't quite figure out,
Everything he does is beautiful,
Everything he does is right...

...And amongst those who were watching was none other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs himself, wordlessly watching the other men from across the bullpen through slightly narrowed, ice-blue eyes.

(I think this chapter may be the weakest, despite being the longest, out of the three so far, but I wanted to include this moment and it wouldn't have worked within another chapter. And the last sentence needed to make more of an impact... but hey. What does anyone else think?
The song is the - absolutely beautiful, a mi juicio - You and Me by Lifehouse, which I do not own. Also, I changed a tiny part of the lyrics from 'she' to 'he', to fit the story. Sorry?...)