McGee had felt himself blanch when that woman had called him Tony's sidekick, and it had taken everything in him to not glance at Tony's face to see his reaction. Part of him hoped that the other man hadn't noticed, but it was a false hope; the man was a trained investigator, after all.

Then, oh, the jabs started. Sidekick this, sidekick that. And every time, Tim had to pretend that the word didn't stir something inside him that shouldn't be stirred…not by a coworker… and definitely not by Tony.

He sighs into his computer screen, absentmindedly striking keys that slowly compile a report in front of him.

He yelps when a hand clamps down on his shoulder, jumping violently enough to knock over the cup of coffee sitting next to him. The derisive chuckle next to his ear sends shivers down his spine, but he manages to hide the sensation with a scowl.

"Jesus, Tony, what if you made me short out my equipment?" As he uses some drawer napkins to soak up the mess, Tony meanders around the front of the desk into Tim's field of view, his mouth twisted into his signature smirk.

"Wouldn't happen, McGee, I know that you've coffee-proofed your babies."

Tim shoots him a look through his eyebrows as he disposes of the drenched napkins and empty cup, forlornly mourning the extra money he had spent on the extra caramel.

"Come on, McGee, that expression isn't very fitting for a…side,,,kick."

Tony enunciates the word 'kick' so much that it almost causes McGee physical pain. He glowers up at the other agent with what he hopes is a sufficiently annoyed expression before returning to the increasingly uninteresting report in front of him. "Don't you have some work to do, Tony?"
"I do, McGee, I do. It mostly involves you, though."

McGee's fingers slip on the keyboard. He frowns, the jumbled letters strongly resembling the feelings shifting in his chest. Unorganized, nonsensical.

"Go away," he groans.

Tony chuckles and lifts his hands as if in defeat. "All right, all right."

McGee's eye twitches when Tony makes no move to leave.

"Wanna grab lunch with me?"

He blinks and lifts his head. "What?"
"Food." He says it slowly. "Eat. With me?"

McGee raises an eyebrow. "No, thanks… I brought something today so I could work through lunch."

Tony's eyebrow twitches, but before McGee can place the cause, the special agent turns away and makes his way towards the elevator. "Suit yourself, sidekick."

A frustrated groan mixes with a hearty laugh as the elevator doors close.

It goes on like this for awhile, Tony making his digs while McGee wards them off with disciplined patience. Eventually, however, McGee begins to covertly avoid the Dinozzo. It wasn't the teasing. No, he was used to that. It was the fluttering pulse he adopted when the Italian man was too close that worried him. Every time he was forced to meet those confident eyes, he felt as if the Dinozzo could see straight through him.

Today is no exception. Having spent hours quietly working at their desks, Dinozzo finally stretches his stupidly toned arms and puts his hands behind his head, spinning his chair to face his partner. McGee' jaw immediately tightens when he feels Tony's gaze.

He allows the silence to remain, hoping that the other man would take the hint and let him work.

Fat chance.

"Let's grab some drinks after this," Tony says.

McGee's eye twitches. "Is that supposed to be an invitation?"

"Come on," Tony presses. "I'll buy the first round." McGee can see the grin spread out of the corner of his eye. "Sidekick appreciation and all that."

Tim's hands come to a stop, his eyes staring unseeingly at the screen in front of him. He sighs, saves his work, and tells his equipment to power down.

Tony perks up. "So where do you wanna go?"

McGee turns his eyes to him as he slings his bag over his shoulder, giving him a look that most fathers would give their children as a warning. "I'm going home, Tony."

There's a tension to the Dinozzo's voice when he says, "What? Why? It's my treat."

"I'm not in the mood. I'll see you tomorrow."

He leaves the bullpen without truly looking into the Dinozzo's face.

As he's fishing his keys out of his bag, he hears footsteps stomping up behind him. He sighs heavily.

"I already said-"

The force that Tony uses to shove him into the wall takes him off guard and he stumbles. He looks up in shock to meet Tony's eyes, piercing in their anger despite their soft green color. It doesn't take much for the senior agent to secure McGee against the wall. They had never been matched in physical strength, something that McGee had always struggled to rectify.

"What the hell, Tony?" He attempts once to shake Tony off but an increase in pressure warns him that it's a futile fight.

"What's going on with you, Probie? What's your problem?"

Tim can't quite bring himself to hold Tony's gaze. "I don't have a problem. Now get off me, I'm trying to go home."

The pressure seems to increase. "You're acting strange, McStrange. You can't hide it from me. Spill it."

"There's nothing to spill, Tony. Now get… off…" He puts more effort into prying himself out of the other man's grip, but all he manages to do is create friction between them. Their waists are aligning in a highly inconvenient manner, and he's unsure of whether to continue struggling or hold still to avoid further…untoward contact.

"You honestly thought I didn't notice McGee? The darting eyes? The lingering glances?" Tony's breath is hot against his skin, making him shudder. "The red in your cheeks when I catch you looking?"

McGee's breath catches as lips press against the sensitive skin of his throat, somehow mirroring the force of a hand closing around his windpipe despite the contact being feather soft. His knees nearly betray him, threatening to buckle, but Tony unwittingly holds him up with his aggressive brute strength.

"Come on, Tim," Tony murmurs, his voice saturated with intention. "Just say it."

Tim shudders as Tony applies another kiss, this one directly under his jaw, right over his hammering pulse. His vision blurs as his conflicting emotions collide and abort his reason.

"I get it, Tony, okay? You've had your fun. Just…just let me go."

Tony looks horrified as tears slip down McGee's cheeks. Finally, finally, he lets go.

McGee doesn't move for a moment, his arms at his sides and his head hung low. His gaze is directed at the space between his feet, watching as small droplets gather between his shoes. Shame heats his face and constricts his heart, threatening to suffocate him. He lifts a trembling hand, gingerly touching the spot on his throat where Tony had made contact.

"Tim, I-"

Tony trails off as Timothy shakes his head.

"You've had your fun," he repeats flatly. "I'm going home."

Timothy starts to move past the older agent, purposefully avoiding contact. A hand latches onto his arm. The grip is gentle, but the air around them seems to have a crushing weight.

"Tim-"

Timothy yanks himself away, wordlessly walking down the corridor.

"Tim, wait a minute!"

His heart is thundering so loudly that he doesn't hear Tony pursuing him until it's too late, the weight of the other investigator crushing him face-first into the wall.

"Dammit, Tony!"

He drives an elbow backwards, but it doesn't find the soft flesh of the Dinozzo's stomach as he had intended. Tony had seen it coming; they had received the same training, after all. Feeling Tony going in for the armlock, Tim drops his weight and drives it backwards, knocking them both off balance. It would have been a foolish move in a real fight, since they were both now defenseless on the ground, but his life was in no danger here.

Only his pride.

He scrambles to his feet and is down the hallway in a flash, fully aware of the Dinozzo closing in behind him. He forgoes the elevator; the doors would take too long to close and he'd be caught. He sprints into the stairwell and takes them two at a time, desperately hoping that Tony hadn't been working on his stamina as hard as he'd been working on his strength. He glances back and is surprised to see Tony nowhere in sight, but distantly, he hears the elevator doors slide shut. He hesitates on the stairs. Could he beat Tony to the lower floor and manage to get to his car before he was caught?

He catches himself mid-thought. Why was he running?

He groans and sinks down to sit on the stairs, lowering his head to his hands. "What am I doing?"

He tenses when he hears the distant ding of the elevator, and the pattering sounds of what could only be Tony's footsteps retreating towards the garage. He waits in agonizing silence. Run back upstairs? Try to slip out of the stairwell and find somewhere to hide until Tony gave up and left?

He doesn't have much time to think before he hears the footsteps returning, and his heart seizes in his chest when he hears the stairwell door open just below where he was sitting.

He holds his breath, unsure of what to do. Even if Tony didn't find him, he could wait by Tim's car until he showed up. If Tim slipped around and took a cab, Tony would be waiting for him in the morning. There would be no escape.

The stairwell door closes and Tim is trapped with nothing but silence, his very heart seeming to have gone quiet. After a few moments he sighs in relief and closes his eyes, rubbing his thumbs in circles against his temples.

"Tim?"

McGee jumps violently and lifts his head to see Tony peering up at him from the bottom of the staircase. His gaze is focused and intense, his eyes bright. They always were after a chase. He doesn't move any closer, aware that Tim was likely to bolt.

"McGee, I-"

"Why'd you do that?" McGee's voice is barely a whisper, but it's deafening in the staircase. The question sits between them like a bad joke, neither of them sure what to do with it.

It wasn't often that Tony could be rendered speechless, but there he was, mouth half-open at the bottom of the stairs. Eventually, he closes his mouth and swallows. "I don't know. I guess…I thought it was what you wanted."

"What? Why would you- What in the world would make you think I'd want you to-to…" he can't even bring himself to say it, his mind flashing back, unnervingly adept at recalling the sensation of Tony's lips against his skin. He shivers.

"The way you were looking at me, Tim, I…it was just..."

"What?"

"Provocative. So, I thought…I figured that…"

"Provocative? Provocative?! What the hell, Tony? I'm not one of your floozies."

Tony's eyebrows furrow in the way they do when he's been insulted. "I know that, Tim."

"What was your game plan? What were you going to do after that?"

"I don't-"

"What did you expect me to do? To just melt in your arms and ask, 'Your place or mine?'"

"No, I-"

"What do you expect me to do now? You just assaulted me, Tony! In my workplace! In our workplace!"

"That wasn't assault, Tim, it was-" he trails off, his eyes wandering from McGee's uneasily. "I thought you wanted it."

"I told you to let go of me, Tony."

"I know, I just…" Tony sighs, looking younger than he is. "I was just trying to pull it out of you, I guess."

McGee almost asks him what he means. He doesn't want the answer. Doesn't want to know for sure that despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to conceal the internal struggle he had been suffering through.

Tony takes a step up the stairs. "Tim,-"

"Don't." McGee turns his eyes away, wishing for the world that they weren't welling up again. "Please."

There's a heartbeat of silence, and then Tony is walking up the stairs anyway, each step deafening. Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep, unsteady breath. Tony settles himself beside him, and to the junior investigator's chagrin, scoots close enough that their shoulders are flush against each other.

There's a heartbeat of tense, uncomfortable silence.

"I wanted you to kiss me back."

Tim opens his eyes but doesn't move his gaze from the wall.

Tony continues despite his silence. "I could see that you were feeling…something. And to be honest, Tim, I… I've been feeling something, too. For you. And I knew…I knew that you weren't going to make a move anytime soon. Probably never. Because you're smart. Reserved. You probably analyzed every single outcome that could have ever been and concluded that there was more potential for failure and loss than was worth risking." He swallows. "I don't have that kind of restraint. I didn't want to let even the smallest possibility slip by without even trying. Especially when the way I feel has lasted for so long. So, that's why I did what I did."

"You were just curious," McGee murmurs to the wall, the tears in his eyes growing hotter.

"About you, McGee. About us."

"You shouldn't have done that," says McGee. "I didn't want you to do that."

There's a long moment of silence, McGee painfully aware that Tony was making no move to break the contact between them. But then, neither was he.

"I'm sorry, Tim. But surely you…you felt something, right?"

McGee suppresses a shiver. Tony's knee knocks against his own and he closes his eyes, trying to block the sensation out.

He takes a deep breath. He could do this. Tony had just gotten into the puzzle he had been hiding and dumped it out between them. There was no reason he had to sort this all out right now.

He just needs to put the pieces back in the box and put it back on the shelf.

"You're mistaken." He does his best to not sound like he's reading from a script, but his words sound rehearsed and clunky, even to him. "I don't know what you think you were seeing." All the evidence is circumstantial, don't admit to anything. "Not everyone…" Deep breath, steady words, short sentences. Don't let your voice break. "Not everyone is in love with you, Tony."

Tony barely misses a beat.

"You're right. Not everyone." McGee's mouth trembles when he feels a hand press against his cheek, and what little resistance he had managed to conjure melts away as the Dinozzo turns his face in his direction.

McGee isn't surprised to see how fiery those green eyes are, or how sure they are of what the Dinozzo was seeing. The man is a trained investigator, after all.

"But I think you are," Tony says softly, his thumb brushing against the corner of Tim's lips. His tears slip free from his eyes to slide against the flesh of Tony's fingers.

"Tony-"

The Dinozzo leans closer, the contact between their bodies becoming more concrete, forcing Tim's scattered brain to scramble to focus. He's trapped between the Dinozzo and the wall, neither one offering any leniency.

"Stop."

The hand that isn't on his face had found his arm, keeping him in place despite Tim's protests. Tim flinches, closing his eyes. He can feel Tony's beath, soft and warm, against his lips.

It feels like the world is coming down around him.

"No, please, wait-"

"Dinozzo."

The air is sucked out of the stairwell around them, and a chill seems to settle on their skin as they both freeze in place. Slowly, they look to the top of the stairs to find a familiar set of piercing blue eyes staring down at them, all-knowing and all-seeing.

"He said no."

The hands leave Tim so quickly that they seem to take his breath with them.

Gibbs jerks his head towards the upper staircase door, his eyes never leaving the agents in front of him. "Get out of here."

Dinozzo clears his throat and awkwardly gets to his feet, moving towards Gibbs without another word to McGee. As he's brushing by their leader Gibbs grabs him by the arm, bringing the agent to an abrupt stop.

"No means no, Dinozzo." His eyes are staring straight into the younger agent's, making sure that his words were being delivered home. "I didn't think I'd ever need to tell you that."

"Boss, it's not like th-"

"Go."

Dinozzo swallows again, glancing down at McGee for just a few seconds before he flees the stairwell, the distant sound of the elevator alerting them to his escape.

Gibbs turns his eyes to McGee, who is still frozen in place on the stairs.

The younger agent's face is awash in flame. He turns his attention to the stairs below them, half-heartedly wondering if he should just toss himself down.

Gibb's steps are slow and deliberate, bringing him to where McGee is sitting. He lowers himself to the stairs and sets his coffee down, leaving the space between them open.

"You alright, McGee?"

He's not looking at the younger agent, but not in a way that might suggest he's uncomfortable asking the question. Rather, he didn't want the other man to feel small or ostracized. To Gibbs, it was just a simple question.

"Yeah, boss," McGee replies, glad his voice is steady.

"You need to talk about it?" Gibb's gaze finds McGee for a moment, but only long enough to gather his expression, to check his emotional state. Not pinning him down. Not forcing him to answer. Simply investigating.

"No," McGee says, more to the stairs than to the man beside him.

"Do you want to talk about it." Although the words are strung together as a question, the tone with which Gibbs delivers them assures McGee that the older agent already knows the answer.

He shifts a little. "He wasn't going to hurt me, Gibbs, it was just…" he trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. "He was just…" He can't find the words.

Gibbs absently rotates his coffee cup, his eyes looking off into the air the way they did when he was piecing a case together.

"I know that, McGee." He slides a glance sideways, offering the young agent one of his half-smiles. "It just seemed like you needed some backup."

McGee sighs, and to his surprise, he can finally breathe again.

"Thanks." He clears his throat, shifting some more. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, McGee."

There's a moment of undefined silence between them, and then Gibbs speaks again.

"Believe it or not, I've been right where you are a time or two."

Tim looks sideways so fast that he nearly gives himself whiplash. Gibbs's eyes are there, soft and ready to greet him.

"It's true," says the silvered man. "It can be a confusing time, especially when someone you respect and know so well is on the other side. It makes it even harder when you've never felt that way before. But ultimately, this kind of situation is too individualized for anyone to offer any concrete advice. So, what you need to do, McGee, is really dig inside that brain of yours and figure out what you're feeling."

For some reason, despite having held this struggle so close to his chest for so long, McGee suddenly feels like he can spill everything to the man beside him.

"I'm trying," he says, his voice almost desperate. It's like Gibbs is extending a lifeline, and he's starving to grab it. "I just keep getting turned around. I feel…confused."

"That's par for the course, unfortunately."

McGee starts a little when Gibbs puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in to close the distance between them. The warmth that comes off the reserved man is surprising, and he finds himself leaning into it, sighing heavily.

Gibbs gives him a firm squeeze. "It's not something you can rush, kid."

"Do you want me to talk to Dinozzo?"

"No!" He clears his throat. "No, I…I'll handle it." He meets Gibbs's eyes.

Gibbs nods and gives him a few solid claps on the back. "Alright then. I'm here if you need me." A quick, unexpected ruffle of his hair and then the fox is on his feet, already making his way down the stairs. At the bottom, he turns his azure gaze up towards McGee. The warm affection in his eyes puts McGee at ease, and he can almost feel the weight lifting from his shoulders.

"Get home and get some rest."

"Yes, boss."

Gibbs leaves, but for the first time in a while, McGee doesn't feel like he's alone.