a/n - a good day for the guys, can it last?

As they jogged, Gibbs waited for McGee to seem uncomfortable after Kyle's comment. If anything Tim was amused as they passed Kyle and Martin's home, and Gibbs relaxed and focused on the question that had been nagging him since last night. "How'd you learn to give massages like that? That was better than the last time I was in physical therapy."

McGee laughed without breaking stride. "You know I didn't do too well in my fencing class in college."

"Yeah..." Gibbs wasn't seeing the connection.

"I still had to have a credit from the phys-ed department, so I took a sports medicine class. Actually it was the only one that fit my schedule and still had openings. I got an A in that class."

"No kidding."

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" This time McGee did slow a bit. "Without a narrow massage table, it's hard to really work on both sides of the back unless you're straddling the person."

"Nope, but if Tony knew what you can do, he'd be calling you Magic Hands McGee. Did you ever work as a masseuse?"

Tim sped back up, no longer worried that he had crossed a line. "By then I was working as a bank teller, but I did travel with some of the teams as their masseuse, even the football team."

"You can't tell me that MIT had a serious football team." Gibbs picked up his pace just a bit to see if McGee could keep up with him.

"They most certainly did; okay, their last winning season was back in 1999, but they still take it seriously." Tim's laughter defeated the claim of taking it seriously, but Gibbs just laughed with him.

"You keep telling yourself that."

"What about you, you played football, right?"

A snort, "hardly."

"But I've seen you throw a football. How could you throw like that and not be on the school team?" They had reached the park and by unspoken agreement turned in.

Gibbs waited until they were through the gate and had the leash off of Jethro. "Stillwater's team was sponsored by the local mine." He pulled the ball out of his pocket and gave it a toss.

The ball had quite an arc to it, and Jethro bounded off to chase it down, giving Tim a chance to think about what he'd heard. "When your dad left the mines and opened his own store..."

Jethro was already back with his retrieved ball and Gibbs squatted down to greet him. "Old man Winslow couldn't exactly brag about a player that wasn't dependent on him. Besides, I had to help my dad with the store. What about you, you wrestled in high school, didn't you?"

They started walking further into the park. "Sure did, state champ in my division."

"Really?" Gibbs stopped in his tracks.

He was grinning. "Yep."

Gibbs started moving again. "Does Tony know?"

"Nope." Tim was walking backwards, watching Gibbs. "Not yet."

"Do me a favor. Makes sure I'm around when you tell him."

---NCIS---

After an hour of the two men tag teaming Jethro with the ball, the German Shepard was glad to curl up when they got back to the house, not even going up the stairs. Tim made sure he had a full bowl of water before patting him on the head. "Did we wear you out, boy? Well, we're going to go get your bed." Jethro's ears perked up when he heard the word bed and both Gibbs and Tim laughed at him.

"We'll take the truck. Is there anything else you want to grab while we're there?"

Tim glanced up at the rack next to the stove. "Since I think some of your spices came over on the Mayflower, I think I'll raid my kitchen for some more supplies. Probably bring back my computer and the television while we're at it. The Redskins are playing Denver this weekend."

"What, my TV isn't good enough?" He looked through the archway at the old tube set with the faulty vertical hold. "Don't answer that."

Tim didn't need to answer, his grin said it all. Instead, he pulled two baggie out of the freezer and popped them in the microwave. Before Gibbs could ask what he was doing, he was being handed a hot breakfast burrito. "I put them together yesterday with the leftovers from the omelets."

Scrambled eggs, sausage, cheese and the salsa Tim had just added were all wrapped up in a tortilla. Gibbs looked back at the freezer. "How many are in there?"

"Just a few, remember, we fed Vance yesterday." Tim shook his head at the scowl the reminder had brought. "If you like them, I can make more."

Traffic was heavy that morning, but McGee pointed out a shortcut Gibbs didn't know about, much to his surprise. Once they arrived at the apartment building Gibbs carefully pulled the truck into the small garage McGee unlocked for him. "Your tiny apartment came with a garage?"

Tim held his breath until the side mirrors cleared the garage door. "No, the garage units are rented separately. When I bought the Porsche, I wanted the extra protection for it."

"I'm pretty sure none of your neighbors are going to steal this old truck."

"No, but it's going to take more than one trip to get everything loaded up."

Gibbs knew Tim was right, and that those electronics would be too tempting for someone if the truck was just parked in the main lot. He waited while McGee locked the garage and then followed him up the stairs. Once in the apartment, he looked around for the television, using that as an excuse to study the apartment. He'd picked up and dropped off McGee several times, but he hadn't been inside the apartment for years. It was still the cozy, quaint place it had always been, just the quality of the toys had improved. Gibbs knew nothing about computers past the basics the job required, but he did recognize that the components were expensive, top of the line items. There was one thing he didn't see. "Where's your TV?"

McGee was already on his hands and knees, pulling some pans out of a lower cupboard, so his voice was muffled. "It's in the bedroom."

.

Now that he had a direction, Gibbs went into the bedroom and stopped. The television was huge and mounted on the wall, giving the occupants of the room a perfect view from the bed. Piles of pillows and a thick comforter made the bed look like it had just been lifted from a luxury hotel. He sat on the bed and groaned as the memory foam mattress conformed to his lower body. Intrigued, he fell back, spread-eagle, onto the bed and pulled a corner of the comforter back to feel the sheets underneath. "Tim, is this a king sized bed?"

Tim had heard the groan and knew exactly what it meant. He quietly moved to the bedroom door before the question was asked. "It's a California king, so it's longer. I hate to have my feet hang off the edge."

"Satin sheets?"

"Please, they might be romantic, but have you ever tried to actually sleep on satin sheets? Those are Egyptian cotton, fifteen hundred count."

Up until the moment he felt them, thread count was just a bragging point to Gibbs. "We're taking the bed with us."

"Do you know how hard that's going to be?"

"We're men, we can handle it."

The two halves of the box spring were difficult, but manageable, while the frame broke down easily to slip between the two pieces in the bed of the truck. The large mattress reminded Gibbs of wrestling an octopus: heavy, slippery and limp. The only redeeming factor was the fact that they were carrying it down three flights of stairs and not up. By the time they were down in the garage they were both drenched with sweat. He turned to McGee as the other man leaned against the truck. "How in the hell did you get it up to your apartment?"

Tim rolled his eyes at the question. "It was new, I had it delivered."

"I hope you tipped them good." Gibbs tugged his jeans up and they worked the foam mattress up into the truck. Jethro's bed went on top and everything in the bed of the truck was tied down. The bedding made a great pad to protect the plasma TV. It and the typewriter were tucked into the jump seat of the cab, while the computer was on the floorboard, between Tim's feet. The pans they had gathered were filled with bottles of spices, herbs and condiments and were piled on McGee's lap. Gibbs gave him one last look as he climbed behind the steering wheel. "We didn't grab the wall mount for the television."

"I'll pick up another one. There's a steel beam in my bedroom wall; it took the building maintenance guy three hours to get that one safely anchored." Tim shifted, hoping to scratch his nose. "Believe me, I'd rather pay the twenty bucks for another mounting bracket than undo all that work."

"Twenty bucks? Sounds like a bargain to me." Gibbs watched another unsuccessful attempt to reach his nose before he reached over and scratched the end of Tim's nose for him.

"Thanks."

Once they were in Gibbs' driveway, the process had to be reversed. Before they got started, Tim reminded Gibbs of one simple fact. "We need to set up Jethro's bed first."

"Why?" The human Jethro looked in his rear view mirror, imagining how that California King would look in his bedroom.

McGee's explanation was simple. "When we lug that mattress up the stairs, he can either be under our feet, trying to help us, or laying happily on his own bed."

"Good point."

Once Tim was proven right and Jethro was joyfully sprawled across his bed in the den and the kitchen items were stored, they tackled the bed. The old, extra firm double sized bed was disassembled and moved to an empty bedroom down the hall. The frame was fastened together and placed in the bedroom, and then the box springs made a quick appearance. It was only one flight of stairs, that's what Gibbs kept telling himself, but manhandling that massive piece of velour covered memory foam up those stairs was quite an adventure. The narrow hallway of the older home was not designed for oversized beds and they had to bend it slightly to get it through the door, and then lift it over their heads to clear the tall dresser. It finally landed on the box springs and both men fell onto the bed in relief.

Catching his breath, Tim looked over at Gibbs, next to him on the bed. "You know, if we'd waited until we're officially outed on Monday we could have made DiNozzo help."

Gibbs started laughing. Since they were still both prone on the bed he couldn't headslap the other man, so he settled for whacking his arm. "Now you think of it? You're supposed to be the brains of the outfit."