Tony closed his eyes and rested his head back against the pillow, "So, what were you and Abby whispering about in the halls?"
"Oh, just… you." Every good lie is based in truth. McGee set his hand onto the bed, making sure that while it was in reach of Tony's, he didn't make the first move. Now that it was just the two of them, McGee couldn't shake the feeling that any second now Tony would start laughing at him. He could practically hear the teasing, " Ha! McGullible, you really thought I had memory loss? And you wanted to hold my hand! That is hilarious. Wait til Ziva hears about this"
"About how handsome I am?"
McGee let his face become a wry smile, "Always, Tony. It's the only thing we ever talk about these days." It was an easy beginner's lie. Tony was handsome after all, McGee wasn't blind.
"Ha, I knew it." Tony's eyes were still closed and if he hadn't been talking, McGee would've bet money he was asleep.
In fact, for a while, McGee didn't speak at all, hoping that Tony might actually drift off. He wouldn't leave his side, disappearing like that would just be cruel, but it would at least postpone the awkward conversations that were feeling more and more inevitable and increasingly disastrous.
Eventually, the need to know literally anything about what was going through Tony's mind outweighed any potential awkwardness. And Tony was now fidgeting, very much awake and uncomfortable if his intermittent groans were any indication.
"So.." McGee started, clearing his voice, "Why'd you clear the room just now?"
There was a soft hum from Tony before he spoke. "Think I just wanted all the eyes off me for a minute. My head's fucking killing me."
That was an exit opportunity if McGee had ever heard one. "That's understandable," he said, moving to stand, "You really should be napping, I'll get out of your hair."
Tony's hand grabbed his before he could step away. It was firm but not painful, and he tugged McGee slightly in the direction of the bed. When he didn't move, Tony tugged again, more insistently, towards himself.
"Not you," Tony said, his eyes opening slowly, "I didn't mean you."
There was a third tug, and McGee finally took the hint, sitting down on the edge of the bed like Tony wanted.
"I wanna go home, Tim," Tony pleaded, "Take me home?"
Whatever dark magic was hidden in Tony's puppy dog eyes was working. McGee could feel his resolve, his irritation and frustration at the whole situation melting. At his core, he really was just worried about Tony. And exhausted. Somehow, that worry and exhaustion had gotten twisted up inside of him and come out as annoyance and fear and all sorts of things that Tony didn't deserve to have directed at him at a time like this.
No matter how stressful the situation, Tony deserved McGee giving this his all. So when their joined hands settled on top of Tony's thigh, McGee tried not to panic. And when the pad of Tony's thumb began to move softly over the back of his hand, just like it had earlier, he let it. If he were honest with himself, and he rarely was when it came to Tony, he didn't even mind the contact.
That might be the biggest problem with the whole situation, how much less it was bothering him than he felt it should. He had to acknowledge that, in the last several years, his feelings about Tony had gone unchecked. There'd been no reason to worry, to even self-reflect on the matter. Sure, he considered him a friend, maybe even a role model as an agent, but those were feelings that had required no further examination. Accurately labeled platonic, the feelings had been set aside, only to haphazardly grow out of their assigned spot when he wasn't watching.
It wasn't a specific feeling though. Abby called it a crush. McGee definitely didn't. Fascination, maybe. Connection. Nothing so juvenile as a crush. It wasn't news to him that he and Tony were close. They'd become genuine friends whether either was willing to admit it. In fact, ever since Tony had stood Officer McCadden up for drinks, they'd seen more of each other than ever.
"I know, Tony. I wish I could. You've still got some tests left before you're in the clear. I'm sorry that you're stuck in here. I know you hate hospitals."
"We all hate hospitals."
"Yeah, I know. They suck, don't they?"
Tony laughed just once. McGee smiled, and for a moment he was glad that Tony had asked him to stay. It was easier to calm himself down when he could hear Tony laugh, see firsthand that he was alright.
"I was really worried about you," McGee whispered then, his eyes focusing on where their hands meet. "We heard the explosion in real-time, we… Abby and I thought you were dead." This is the first time he's said those words out loud. He goes back to that moment when the phone line had gone dead and he and Abby had just stood and stared at each other. It felt like a bad dream now, the memory fuzzy and almost unreal now that he had Tony in front of him.
Tony struggled for a second, working one-handedly to push himself into a more upright position.
"Wait, hold on, we can move the bed to a sitting position." McGee grabbed the remote from the side table and pressed the buttons that slowly raised the head of the bed.
"Thanks." Once Tony was seated and resettled, he reached forward and placed his non-cast hand on McGee's cheek.
"Hey," Tony said softly.
McGee didn't feel he had much choice but to meet his eyes, and when he did it was well and truly suffocating. Tony's eyes were serious; like Abby had said, Tony knew better than to make a complete ass of himself at a time like this. The gravity of Tony's adoring stare pressed onto him like a weighted blanket, and it was overwhelming in a way that made McGee think maybe Abby had been right about me .
He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn't a crush. He had told himself that regardless of how he felt about Tony, he wasn't some middle schooler wishing they could hold hands in the lunchroom. But in that moment, when he felt for a split second looking into Tony's eyes as though the air had been crushed out of him, it made a little bit more sense.
"I'm okay," Tony continued, "I'm going to be okay."
And then Tony was leaning in, and he was leaning in too, and they were kissing. McGee's head tilted slightly and his eyes closed before he even realized what was happening. Tony's mouth was so goddamned soft. And for a man who'd been blown up less than 12 hours ago? He kissed like a god. Sure, this was never how McGee had pictured their first kiss (and he would deny having pictured it at all if Abby ever asked), but this kiss was warm and slow and really really sweet. Better than anything he could have come up with.
When Tony pulled back from the gentle kiss a few seconds later, McGee knew his face was flushed and all the panic he was sure he'd finally set aside came rushing back. But Tony didn't pull back that far, and McGee reminded himself, treat it like an undercover op, don't let it get to you, don't let him see you stumble, as he looked back into Tony's eyes.
Tony was smiling and almost breathless. It was really a sight to see, McGee decided. That look on his face of being content and carefree, all at once. Tony looked… beautiful. But this was getting out of hand. This was Tony. They'd just kissed. This was Tony with a head injury and memory errors and… McGee had just kissed him.
"I don't know how you do it, Tim," Tony said reverently.
It took McGee a second to realize he was talking to him, but then his face scrunched up as he tried to process what had been said, "Ah- do what?"
"I don't know how you make every kiss feel like it's our very first."
