Tim was slightly ashamed to admit it – not a lot though – but she was thoroughly enjoying her evening of playing one half of a dotting, sickly affectionate couple.

After she had seen where Trent was going with his suggestion that they have 'fun' with her spying teammates – how dare they! – and she had kissed him – she had no idea how she had managed to control her blush – he had shown her to her seat and pushing it in behind her. She had not expected the kiss he had pressed to the base of her neck. A small shiver had tumbled through her at that.

He had then taken his own chair opposite her and had not stopped smiling since.

Tim hadn't realised just how many smiles the man was capable of until now, but the soft almost playful twitch and twinkle of his eyes had to be her favourite. It softened him somehow.

They had talked and they had laughed - much as they would have done if they weren't being spied on the whole time - falling into the easy rhythm they had perfected after years of such dinners. But there was a difference.

There were long shared glances over jokes where there would usually only be a quick meeting of eyes. He took her hand at the end of every course, playing with her fingers – damn, but she was going to be covered in goosebumps for the rest of the year after tonight, he was playing havoc with her – running the tips of his own over the almost translucent skin on the back of her hand. Tracing the veins softly with his callused fingers.

And then, once plates had been cleared and there was nothing for sleeves to be accidentally dragged through or cutlery to be sent crashing to the floor he would lean in closer to her. The first time he did this she had to force herself to stay still, keeping her breath even as the hand that wasn't over her own on the table approached her face. Gently he traced the length of some hair that had come loose and had curled down the side of her face. He didn't pull, only seemed to feel the strands between his fingers before he smiled at her and tucked it behind her ear. More shivers danced down her spin as he traced the outline of her ear.

Thankfully, the next course arrived before she melted into a puddle and his hands were once again occupied with a knife and fork.

She took a deep breath and indulged in a larger than usual sip of wine before beginning on her own plate.

Ziva was finding this whole situation incredibly amusing, and although she had made it clear that she was against spying on her teammate she could not argue with the results.

Whatever Tony – and she supposed Gibbs – had thought they were going to find out by watching Tim with the CIA agent she was sure this was not it.

There were no threats veiled with a smile and a kind word. No animosity. Not even any uncomfortable silences.

They were watching a couple who were happy together and comfortable in each other's company. She couldn't remember ever seeing Tim smile so much in such a short amount of time before. Which was saying a lot as McGee was an open and happy person at work – perhaps not as keen on the outwards displays as Abby it was true but she always had a smile to give.

Ziva had picked up on some slight discomfort from Tim occasionally, usually whenever Kort would show her some sign of affection but she put that down to Tim being a naturally shy person who did not like making such scenes in public.

She watched as the desert – one plate –was placed between them and using only one fork being wielded by Kort they shared the cake. He scooped up a piece and held the fork out to Tim. Ziva smiled as Tim shot the CIA man a look she had often seen aimed at Tony but she smiled and shook her head with a giggle and allowed the man to feed her.

Good for you, Tim.

While Ziva was smiling like a toon…loon…bah, one of them was right…at the couple and not bothering to hide how thrilled she was with what was happening she was more than aware of the bubbling tempers of her two companions. After all, the van wasn't that large and she could almost feel Tony thrumming with agitation.

He had gone from making snide comments – Kort was trying too hard with the restaurant, any minute now and the thumbscrew would come out, even Tim wasn't desperate enough to…(he had never finished that thought as she had not only hit him over the head – after Gibbs had the first shot – but elbowed him quite painfully in the ribs, she was sure she had managed to bruise something) – to the occasional grumble, to a brooding silence that she would be worried about if she and Gibbs were not present to stop him from doing something stupid. She had already been forced to grab him by the arm and pull him back into his seat when at one point Kort had tenderly cupped Tim's face.

Tony, she had decided, was not going to ruin this for Tim. And if she had to break both his ankles to stop him from running into the restaurant then she would do it.

Gibbs on the other hand…

Well, her stoic boss was always a hard one to get a read on and apart from the occasional whack to the back of Tony's head he had remained silent. Simply observing. Even when he struck out at Tony his eyes never strayed from the grainy screen. After so many years of working with the younger man she supposed Gibbs' hand just found the back of Tony's head without much work now.

She was tempted to ask him what he thought of what they were seeing, but she knew better and kept her mouth shut.

Gibbs never let his eyes stray from the camera feed that was being patched through to the van from the security system inside the high-class restaurant. He was aware of the occasional comment from Tony or Ziva and had shot out his hand more than once to collide with the back of Tony's skull when the words had penetrated his concentration enough for Gibbs to know they were deserving of a head slap, but he kept his ears focused as much on the speakers as the screens.

He listened to every little breath, every chuckle from Kort and every soft giggle from Tim. He watched every little movement. The subtle shifts. The touching of hands. He studied the couple, watching for any sign that Tim was not comfortable and that he needed to get his agent out of there.

But as the minutes ticked by into hours. There was nothing.

It was clear to see from the easy flow of conversation and the relaxed postures that Tim was comfortable in the man's company and that Kort was completely enamoured of Tim. The only time anything seemed slightly off was when Kort would show some kind of affection by touching her. Gibbs' practised eye had picked up on a slight twitch more than once but she would quickly relax again.

It was true that Tim had drawn the CIA agent into a kiss when they had first been shown to the table and she had shown no signs of shyness then, but anyone could be caught up in the moment. Perhaps this aspects of their relationship was new and Tim was still getting used to the man showering her with little touches the way he was? Whatever it was, Gibbs' attention was going to be fixed on the screens until the end of the night.

Tony was not at all comfortable with how the evening was playing out.

When he had dragged Ziva into the elevator and then when he had rushed over to Gibbs it had been so easy to imagine that Tim was being coerced in some way. That Kort – the smarmy Brit! – was bullying her into doing something she had no wish to do.

Tony knew that he gave Tim a hard time – had done so since he had first met her at that long ago crime scene…she was as green as they came back then – but he cared for her. He would take a bullet for her any day and not even think about it and the thought of someone taking advantage of her had riled him.

When he had seen her kiss Kort he had felt something bubble inside of him. Simmer. He had not been able to stop the snide comments that left his mouth, even when Ziva had rammed her bony elbow into his ribs and he was sure he had a dent the size and shape of Gibbs' hand on the back of his head. And then, as the evening drew on and he watched the way that Kort treated Tim, holding her hand, stroking her face, feeding her desert, he had grown silent, unable to formulate anything flippant about what he was seeing. The CIA creep actually seemed to care for Tim – either that or it was a damn good act.

The mysterious feeling in his stomach suddenly had an identity. He was angry. And hurt.

Here was his partner – a woman he would do anything for – sitting opposite the man who had blown up his car and his cover.

He felt betrayed.

While a part of his mind could easily admit that he knew that Kort had his reasons – he was working to his own agenda's after all – and when he got down to the basics he couldn't really blame the man for what the job required him to do. It hurt that there was no solidarity with Tim. There was an open animosity between the various agencies and yet here she was completely disregarding it.

Tony had to admit to himself – no matter how hard it was – that maybe it wasn't even the fact that she was 'sleeping with the enemy' so to speak. He unclenched the fists he hadn't even realised he formed as Tim laughed light heartedly at something the CIA agent had just said.

What had he said?

Damn it! Tony had been too lost in his own thoughts to listen to what they were even talking about.

But what did it matter. It was her reaction that had him riveted. She looked so happy! And seeing her happy with someone who wasn't the team was killing him inside.

Back by popular demand ;)

Well, not quite... I did like leaving the last one a bit open ended but I got stuck the other evening with one of my other stories, opened another document and started typing and this is what happened.

Hope you like. :)

Have a nice weekend :)