Shards To A Whole: Chapter 228

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 228: Sublimation

Sublimation is the ability to divert your desire for something, say sex, into some other action.

Tim's been sublimating the ever living shit out of his sex drive.

He's got protocols set for all of the computer searches he usually runs for when he goes on leave. Draga may not be able to jump into investigating and crime scene work ten minutes after getting to NCIS, but he will be able to run any search Tim usually does. (Actually, with the level of detail Tim's got on these protocols, Gibbs will be able to run the searches.)

Couldn't locate laid-back with a GPS

He's really going after their case. He's even leaving Gibbs in the dust on occasion, which is actually kind of frightening to Tony and Ziva, because Tim's supposed to be the laid-back one, and right now Tim couldn't locate laid-back with a GPS and a team of skilled trackers.

If they gave out modern, sensitive, caring, doting husband awards, he'd be in the running for gold. (Seriously, the three new LabRats keep staring at him as he continually bops down with little treats for Abby, wondering how he's got time for it all, when they aren't wishing he wasn't trying to teach them how to do their jobs. Yes, Major Mass Spec is tetchy, but they're lab techs, all with multiple advanced degrees in this subject, they do not need some field agent hovering around telling them how to talk to the equipment.)

He's gotten sixteen chapters of the latest Deep Six written.

And he's gotten really obsessed about making the perfect glass of iced-coffee.

And okay, he's not quite as annoyed or tense as he was in Afghanistan, but it's also only day six.

Shower time is the hardest part of the day, and he means that in the sense of both difficult and stiff. Traditionally, if he's still got a hard on by the time he gets into the shower, he takes care if it while washing up.

And he still needs to wash up.

So it's not like he can just ignore it and let it wither.

And really, it's not like he can just sort of wash around it and hope getting wet is enough. Okay, he could do that, but he's personally fastidious and finds that idea really gross.

So, he's found himself thinking, several times, of the sage advice that if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with yourself, so the application of soap has been somewhat perfunctory, but enough to get the job done. And, he has noticed that he's keeping the water temperature a lot lower than he likes as encouragement to get out of there fast.

Male physiology and female physiology is not precisely the same thing. Specifically women do not have prostates.

And, granted, he's not a women, so he's not sure if there is some sort of female analog to this (though he doesn't see how there could be) but his body is sending him some very clear signals along the lines of 'Gosh, now would be a very good time to just clear the pipes out' by way of what feels like a very full, very swollen, and very sensitive prostate.

Now, normally, when he's feeling this, it's because Abby's playing with it and he's maybe, at most, an hour or two away from getting off. Usually he's a whole lot closer. And when Abby's playing with him, this is a very welcome sensation because he knows it means he's going to cum like a geyser when he gets off, and that's always a very good thing.

And, look, he read Cryptonomicon and thought that section where Waterhouse didn't get any privacy for six weeks in a row which resulted in him being very aware of his prostate the whole time was really funny.

Living it, feeling this way 24/7 is significantly less funny.

It's also producing some side effects that are highly reminiscent of junior high, and he's really not appreciating the fact that just standing up too fast can result in his clothing rubbing against him in a way that will produce a hard-on.

And while it's true that he's actively sublimating the hell out of his sex drive (or trying at least) it's also true that he's letting Breena and Jimmy head to the pool with Abby, because he'd rather gouge out his eyeballs than do anything disrespectful toward Abby, and well, if he's at the pool, where the girls in the tiny, wet bikinis are, he's going to have to gouge out his eyeballs to avoid that, and really, he needs his eyes.

Jimmy asked him about it on Saturday after dinner. (Nine days down, five to go.) He'd taken the three girls to the pool. Tim stayed home to "write" and was in charge of dinner. After the meal, he and Jimmy took care of dishes while the girls commiserated about how not fun being pregnant is while Molly slept in what will very soon be Kelly's room.

"So, really, you stayed home to write?" Jimmy asks, taking a wet pot from Tim and starting to dry it.

"Yes. Been writing a whole lot lately." He scrubbing away on the forks. (Doing dishes by hand also got added to the sublimating to-do list.) "I've got hard deadlines for my books, you know."

"Uh huh."

"And I don't know how much time I'll have for it after Kelly's born."

Jimmy nods. "True."

"So I want to get as much done as I can."

"Makes sense. Total bullshit, but it makes sense. Come on, why are you hiding?"

Tim put the scrubby down, and started rinsing the forks. "Because I'm the idiot who swore off sex when his wife went on pelvic rest, but didn't stop making out with her."

Jimmy laughed. "God, no wonder you're climbing the walls." Jimmy rubbed his shoulder, which was still sore from last week, realizing there was a reason why Tim was so… energetic… at Bootcamp last Sunday, and had the sinking suspicion he was going to get killed tomorrow.

Tim smiles, appreciating that Jimmy gets what he means by swore off sex. "Just got to make it to Thursday."

Jimmy laughed at that, too. "Nothing says classy like running off two seconds after your kid's born to jerk off. Friday, Tim, maybe Saturday. Trust me, you'll be busy."

"Wonderful." Tim hands over the forks, and Jimmy sticks them in the dishwasher flashing him a look that says you've got one of these for a reason. Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm suddenly feeling some empathy for Tony. Wonder if he just never takes care of it himself. 'Cause I know I've been looking at all of them, all the time, and thinking about every woman I lay eyes on. Not just the pretty ones, I mean, if there's better than even odds the person in front of me doesn't have a penis, I'm interested."

Jimmy laughed, full out, wiping the tears from his eyes, laughed at that. When he calmed himself down he said, "Wait, you're really watching Breena?"

"What, did you just meet me? Of course I'm watching her. And Ziva. Vance's secretary. Gladys in Accounting. All of those nameless girls that wander about the building. And Abby, mostly Abby, but yeah, all of them."

He takes three steps to the left, and drags Jimmy along. There's no direct line of sight from their kitchen into the living room where the girls are. There is a good view of the dining room window which reflects whatever's in front of the TV, and in this case, that's Abby and Breena on the sofa, Breena rubbing Abby's hips and they're both in the sundresses they changed into after leaving the pool. Abby's is long and black, but pretty low cut. Breena's is short, pink, with a halter top. Lots of beautiful soft, round, succulent pregnant female anatomy in light-golden tan and rose tinged cream on display and it's killing Tim. "You tell me you're not looking at that and liking it, and I will hit you and call you a liar. And if you even try to tell me you spent four hours in the pool with both of them in little, wet bathing suits and didn't look and didn't like looking, then you're not just gay, you're dead!"

Jimmy smiled, looking amused and a little guilty. "Okay, yeah, that was nice. Abby was rubbing sunblock on Breena, and Breena's got a new bikini. Shame you missed it."

Tim groaned quietly, eyes closed, trying not to imagine it, and finally said, "Yeah, well, unlike you, I'm not getting laid tonight, so I don't need to be any more wound up than I already am."

Jimmy laughed at that, too. "So, nothing at all?"

"Fooling around, but she can't get off, so I'm not either."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but…"

"Hey, it's not easy for her, either."

"I guess not." And it occurs to Jimmy that it might not just be being eight months pregnant that has Abby on such a short fuse lately. "So what are you going to do tonight?"

"Pray she goes into labor."

That made Jimmy laugh, too.

There is a point in every pregnancy, though it differs from woman to woman and pregnancy to pregnancy, where everything becomes uncomfortable.

This point is when pregnancy stops being measured in weeks and starts to be measured in years.

And thus, somewhere around twenty years pregnant, which may have felt like thirty or thirty-four or whatever weeks the day before, everything on earth becomes an annoyance.

Everything.

And clothing, which must press up close against the now multiple years-long pregnant woman's body, is the worst offender. No matter how sheer, how light, how comfortable the clothing looks, wearing it is sheer torture. The item of clothing in question could be a caftan made of spider silk, and it would still be annoying.

And only two things make that torture worse: A: summer heat, which just adds to the general desire to say fuck it, I'll go naked, and B: looking at your pregnant-self naked and deciding you'd rather scratch out your eyes than see yourself like that again.

And fine, maybe not every woman goes through this. Abby's not exactly conducting a scientific poll here, but she certainly is going through it, and Breena certainly did, and that's enough for her to declare that this is a universal constant, and one that sucks mightily.

And if Breena's right, it isn't getting better anytime soon, because, sure Kelly could show up any day, but really, she's still five days off. Or, by the way time is passing right now, eighty-seven years.

Having gotten to this point in the pregnancy, Abby has come to several conclusions: A: She's never doing this again. They want more babies, Tim can figure out how to get himself pregnant. B: Clothing manufacturers are sadistic assholes. C: Summer is evil. D: Their air conditioning is not nearly powerful enough. E: Kelly better hurry the hell up and show up soon. F: Tim needs to stop giving her big, sad puppy dog eyes every time she snaps at him because that just makes her feel sad and guilty on top of mad. And G: EVERYTHING IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE SUCKS!

She was expounding on this topic at great length when Breena gave her a long hug, rubbed her back a little, and said, "I've thrown up four times today. The pharmacy ran out of my anti-nausea meds, so I'm on the second best version until Monday. It'll get better soon, and it's not nearly as bad as it could be." And that kind of took the wind out of her sails.

Abby looked at Breena, sighed, and said, "I know. I just hate this!"

"Every woman does. This part has to suck otherwise you won't decide that trying to get the kid out, which isn't a walk in the park, is worth it no matter how much it hurts."

The sound of Jimmy laughing hysterically in the kitchen stopped their conversation. Breena looked at Abby, shaking her head. "What do you think they're talking about?"

"That kind of laugh? They're talking about sex or making fun of Tony, or making fun of Tony when it comes to sex. Did I tell you Tim laughed so hard he cried when I told him what I added to the honeymoon pack?"

"Yeah. So did Jimmy. Though Ziva told me they had a good time with those books."

"Yay! I didn't hear back on if he used anything from what I added."

"He did. She approved of that, too. Though I think she told him it was us adding the things we liked best and thought any guy really needed to know how to do."

"Ahhh… If it kept his ego happy and let her have a good time, it's all good."

"Yep."

A few seconds later Tim and Jimmy came into the living room from the kitchen. Breena looked up at them, smiling, and said, "Sounded like you were having fun in there."

Jimmy sat next to Breena, wrapping his arm around her and kissed her. "Always. So, we should probably get going. Molly wakes up at six no matter what. She doesn't get the idea of Sunday."

"Sounds good. You wanna go grab her?"

"Sure." Jimmy scooted next to Abby to give her a goodbye hug, and then headed up to get Molly. Breena hugged Abby and Tim, and a minute later they headed off, quietly, sleeping toddler snuggled onto Jimmy's shoulder.

Tim sat on the sofa next to Abby, hand resting on her belly. Her fingers laced with his. And as annoying as being pregnant was, as much as everything hurts and five days from now some really scary stuff is going to happen, she can see Molly on Jimmy's shoulder, and the image of Tim carrying Kelly is hitting her really hard. So she's crying a little, snuggling against him.

He pets her hair, not sure what's going on, but that's not exactly something new these days. She'll tell him when she gets herself under control.

And she does. The c-section is scheduled for the 18th. Assuming it goes well, they'll get to go home on the 21st. Which means eight days from now, Tim will walk into this house with her, carrying their baby cuddled against his chest.

And damn if that didn't make his eyes tear up a little, too.

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