Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Shards To A Whole: Tenderness

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

Chapter 360: Tenderness


Gibbs hears a car pull up, a door open and close, and Mona woof in greeting, so obviously someone was coming.

"In the driveway," he calls out. They're having some amazingly nice weather for the last week of February, so he's taking advantage of it by getting outside and finishing the outside of Shannon.

"What's her name?" Borin asks, walking up behind him as he's stroking another layer of waterproofing onto Shannon's hull.

Yeah, that expression, there. 
Gibbs looks over his shoulder at her, opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

"Gibbs…" She's looking at him curiously. The name of his ship shouldn't send him into what, on someone else, she'd call a panic. On Gibbs, she'll label it as disconcerted.

He shrugs and kisses her quickly. "Hi."

"Hi?" She's squinting at him and then looks at the sailboat. She's, whatever her name is, beautiful. Long sleek lines. She'll just ease through the water, skimming the waves, carried by wind.

Gibbs can see she's not perfectly thrilled with his lack of answer, but... Everything Jimmy said to him about not being able to name this boat Shannon if he wanted to move forward is crashing into him all at once, and he's stuck. He sighs and decides to try honesty. Hopefully it won't scare her too bad. (Granted he was hoping to get a bit further into this than three very successful dates before having this conversation, but… now's the time.) "I've… I started building her back in fall of '12 and… she had a name and there was a plan for what I was going to do with her, and… And everything changed."

"So, she doesn't have a name, or you still think of her by the old name, but you're not sure you're keeping it?"

He nods.

Borin looks her over, walking around her slowly. "What was the plan?"

"Wake up from the retirement party hangover, dry swallow enough aspirin so I could move, get in, and head off to sea. Just me and her for as long as it took to get the job out of my head. New beach every week. Send Abby the occasional post card so she wouldn't worry."

She nods. "And that's not the plan anymore?"

He shakes his head. "Got some girls to teach how to sail. New plan. New life, really, but I never thought of a new name for her."

She nods, gently touching a dry part of the hull. "So this is Shannon?"

He nods. "Yeah. Jimmy tells me I've got to rename her, and…" Gibbs shakes his head. "He's not wrong…"

"But you've been thinking of her as Shannon for four years and you've got nothing else?"

He nods again, looking at her, feeling like he's standing on the edge of a cliff. "I don't know what to do with this." He exhales long and slow. "I've been looking at the pictures of us on the mantle, too. Not sure what to do. We were married twelve years, had a beautiful daughter, and I loved both of them more than anything else. I… didn't use to talk about them. Just pretended it didn't happen. Never mentioned them at all to most of my wives or girlfriends. I don't want to pretend my life began in 1992. But I don't want you to feel unwelcome. I don't want you…" he rubs his face, trying to think of words for this. "I don't want a ghost constantly hovering in your peripheral view. Don't want you uncomfortable. And I don't know what to do."

She smiles gently at that, takes a few steps closer to him, and cups his cheek. "That's a start. I don't want you pretending that life began in 1992, either, and you don't have to take pictures of your family down."

"Okay. And…" He nods at the boat.

She shrugs. "I don't know. You see me on her one day?"

"I really hope so…" He stares at her, stares at Shannon. "I'm not… in love with her anymore. That was taking off the ring, I think. But, it doesn't go away, you know? It eases up, and you finally get what 'they would have wanted you to move on' means, but there's still…" he touches his chest, over his heart, because he'd be at this for years trying to find the right words. "But it's not all that's there." He feels like that's a pretty lame explanation, but he doesn't have better in him.

"Yeah, I know." She sounds wistful at that.

"Do you know? When I mentioned them the first time, you started to say 'I know,' but didn't. Do you know?"

She swallows and nods. "Yeah. That's a long story. Not for out here."

"Okay. Not gonna press. You tell me when or if you want to."

She nods, still looking at Shannon. "How about this. I'll get us some dinner. You wrap up out here, get cleaned up, and then we'll talk and eat."

"Sounds good. Got about half an hour left on this."

"Okay." She kisses him. Still willing to kiss him, real kiss, not just a peck on the cheek, so that's good. "Hungry?"

He nods.

"Craving fried chicken all day."

Gibbs doesn't have to think about that. "Sounds really good."

"Back in a bit."



She's walking into the house as he's stripping off in the laundry room. He doesn't mind the way the finish smells, but he doesn't necessarily want his whole house smelling like it. So whenever he does jobs like that, his clothing goes from his skin to the washing machine without taking any unnecessary detours.

She smiles at him, bags of insanely yummy smelling chicken in hand, looks him up and down (he's in his boxers and one sock) and says, "Thought we were eating first."

He smiles, eyes warm, takes the bag of chicken from her, putting it on top of the dryer, and pulls her to him for a long, hot kiss. "You want to eat first?" he asks against her lips.

"No," she says back, lips still touching his, and steps back from him. "But I should. Haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm going to start feeling light-headed soon."

"Then we eat. Let me head up and grab some pants. Little chilly for just my skivvies." Yes, it's been a very nice day, for February, but he doesn't keep his house warm enough for comfortable dinner in his underwear in the winter.

She chuckles at that. "Fire?"

He nods. Toasty fire sounds great right about now.



He comes down a few minutes later in sweats and NCIS t-shirt. She's in front of the fireplace, fire burning, chicken laid out on plates on the floor with thick slabs of corn bread, green beans, and cold, open beer.

"That a pizza stone?" she asks, looking at the eighteen inch by eighteen inch ceramic square leaning against his hearth. It had been there the last time she came over, too, but they hadn't spent any time in front of the fire that night.

He nods.

"You get it for me?"

He nods again. "I like pizza. I like fire. Never thought about trying the two together. But if you like them, too…"

She smiles at that. "I do, but it's not going to work on your fireplace. Your oven, sure. But heat's got to hit it from all sides, fast, or you end up with the underside burned to cinders and raw cheese on top."

"Hmmm… Doesn't sound good."

"It's not."

He sits next to her and kisses her shoulder. "Speaking from experience?"

"I might be," she says with a smile. "Let's put it this way, there's a reason why you have to light the fire, let it burn, for a while, then push the coals into the back of the oven, then put the pizza into the oven, and if you attempt to skip any of those steps you end up with some rather irate looking tourists who really wanted pizza."

He laughs at that. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen. We didn't usually have tourists in the summer, but they wanted to hike, and we had a place, so there they were. Been out all day, starving. Don't remember why my mom wasn't doing it. Probably some sort of cow emergency. She handled most of the veterinary stuff, unless it was really bad.

"Ended up feeding them ham sandwiches."

Gibbs chuckles, taking a bite of the chicken. Long day of working on the boat, it tastes damn good. She stands up and looks at the picture of Gibbs, Shannon, and Kelly on his mantle.

"You have more pictures?"

He nods.

"Show me your life before 1992; while we eat?"

He nods at that, too. Standing up, grabbing the photo albums that are just general family shots. He finds another one, taken from his father's house. There are some pretty big gaps in there, but it's a more complete picture than anyone's seen since Shannon.

He moves to the sofa, easier to juggle food and pictures and drinks if they can put everything down on the coffee table.

He opens the first one, while she's eating a chicken wing, and she looks down, swallows quickly and says, "Is that really you?"

He nods. "Probably three-ish."

"You were so cute!"

"Thanks."

The shot's black and white, so she asks, "Were you really blond?"

He shrugs. His hair looks light in the shot, but as long as he can remember it's been very dark brown or black.

He flips through shots, the majority of which were from when his mom was alive, so first day of kindergarten, birthday parties, little league, Fourth of July picnics. Not a lot of pictures, not by the standards of today when everyone takes shots of everything, but about ten or so a year. He's slowly growing up across the pages and then he hits thirteen and the pictures stop. The one after that is one he didn't know his Dad had until he went through this album when he took it home from his father's house.

His grandfather had taken the shot. It's him, in his Marine uniform, graduation from Lejeune.

She smiles warmly at that. "Oh, look at you. What'd you do, enlist at fourteen?" she jokes.

"Ha ha ha. I'm eighteen. And I bet there's a shot of you just like this."

She nods. "You ever get to my parents' house and you can see about fifty of them. And I look just as young, green, and proud."

"You think I'm going to be visiting your parents?" He's intrigued and kind of scared of that. Visiting a girlfriend's parents has been on the to-do list for a very long time.

"It's not impossible." She stares at him for a moment. "Are you scared?"

He shrugs.

She pokes him gently then she flips back a page. Gibbs, thirteen, playing first baseman. Next page, Gibbs, eighteen, Marine Graduation.

"Lose some pictures?"

He shakes his head. "Lost the photographer. My mom died when I was fourteen. Breast cancer went bad and spread all over."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs, never sure what to say to that.

"Your dad…?"

"Be a year ago in April. He was lucky, a fast stroke and done. Ducky's mom, she died slowly, over the course of years, and that was torture for everyone. He went fast and it didn't hurt. Good, long life behind him. I miss him, but, I don't regret how he went."

"I get that." She also gets the parallel he's not saying, that his mom died slow, too, and it was torture for him and his dad, her, too probably.

He flips the page, smiles, those shots were taken by all three of them. He remembers that day, home on leave, decided to introduce Shannon to Jack. They went to Lake Conneaut to swim.

There's shots of him lounging with Shannon. Shots of him splashing with Jack. (The shots Shannon took were significantly better than the ones he or Jack took.)

One shot of Jack standing next to Shannon, arm around her, grinning at the camera.

That had been a really good day.

"That's Shannon?" Borin asks, looking at her intensely.

"'Bout a year after we met. Think we're nineteen in that shot." He shakes his head at the dopy grins in some of the shots. It had been a picnic. Sandwiches, cup-cakes, cold corn on the cob, beer. "We're all a bit drunk, too."

"Your dad let you both drink?"

"Now you're making me feel old. Drinking age was 18 then."

She laughs at that, looking at the shots of what would eventually be a family playing. "Never let it be said you don't have a type."

He smiles, sheepish, and then kisses her hair. "Always was a sucker for a pretty redhead."

She smiles, too, and ruffles his hair. "Like 'em high and tight. Not like you can't get a date with me if you aren't a Marine, but, it really helps."

He nods, getting that.

Her voice turns serious. "I was engaged once, long time ago." He can tell by the look in her eyes that it didn't end well. "He was KIA, and I was there when it happened. One second he was there, and the future was there, and life was there, everything that mattered was there, and then boom, it was gone."

He nods, squeezing her hand. "Know all about boom."

"Yeah." She looks at the picture in front of her, Gibbs and Shannon on the beach near a lake. One minute it was there, and the next it wasn't. "Once I healed up, I couldn't go back."

"When I healed up, they wouldn't let me go back. Don't think I would have wanted to if it had been an option," he shrugs, "but it wasn't."

She nods. "I lost him. I lost my whole team. Just dumb, stupid luck I got off the raft first. Without them… the job wasn't worth it anymore. And… " she shakes her head, seeing whatever her personal 'and' was.

He nods. "Know all about 'and,' too."

"That's how you ended up here?"

"Yeah. Spent a lot of years on 'and' as an NCIS agent. 'Back in… '05, might have been '06, while ago now, I got hurt again, and most of the years between '91 and waking up went missing. When I got them back, I had to deal with it, all over again. Been slowly getting a life together since, last couple years really getting it together."

"Are you back together?"

He shrugs. "About as close as I get, I think. I don't know. You back together?"

"Maybe." She shrugs, takes a bite of her cornbread. "If anyone is. Of course, in the middle of it, you can't really tell."

He nods. "I can see how the past didn't work, but I couldn't see it when I was in it."

"Yeah. So, sure. I'm back together. I'm not walking wounded, not anymore. More nights than not I sleep, and I don't even need to drink to do it anymore. More nights then not, if I'm not sleeping it's a case right now, not the past, keeping me up."

"We're cops. I think that's as close to together as we get can hope for."

She nods at that, taking a sip of her beer. "Show me more pictures?"

"Sure."



When Rachel asked him about what he missed about a relationship, what he wanted, Gibbs had had some fairly tame and specific ideas.

He hadn't realized, when he told her about having someone to just talk to, someone to share the quiet with, that what he was looking for was tenderness.

And it wasn't like past wives and girlfriend didn't want to offer it to him. It wasn't like they didn't try. Even Diane, who isn't exactly the poster child for soft and fluffy interactions, tried. But he couldn't take it from them.

He couldn't allow himself to have it. Couldn't let himself properly rest with another woman, because that wall had to always be there, keeping them away from things they couldn't possibly understand.

But he's talking with Borin, his stories interspersed with hers, and there's this moment, where she's talking about how she went from being home with her parents after the explosion that ripped her world apart to the Coast Guard, that he recognizes the difference here, feels it, feels why this time it works, why he can rest. It's like that moment where Tim went from McGee to Tim.

This is shared history for them. Borin gets it. She knows what he lost. For her, one day everything was fine, and before the sun set, her world stopped turning.

She's talking, and right now, he's finished dinner, and is sitting next to her on the sofa, arms wrapped around her. She's got her head resting against his shoulder, nursing a beer between bits of her story, and right this second he's just so content he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't know how to express it, but it's real.

So when the story wraps he takes the bottle from her (empty now), setting it on the floor, and kisses her soft and gentle, taking his time, savoring her skin, letting the heat ramp up between them slowly.

There's no rush here (Except for that moment where he more or less leapt up to grab her purse and find a condom; he was moving awfully fast then.) just slow, easy, gentle movements. Trying to feel this with more than just skin, trying to make love in addition to have sex.

And it doesn't feel like it did with Shannon. But he's also not the same man he was back then.

And different it might be, but it's still good. It feels right. More right than any sex has felt in a very long time.

It's not like he's new to sleeping on his sofa. Not like this is, by any stretch of the imagination, the first time he's spent a night there.

But it was the first time he did it with someone else.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Big Brother

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


Chapter 359: Big Brother


The McGees
"McGee," Tim's not really paying attention as he answers his phone. He's staring at his computer, scanning the code in front of him, hoping to get everything done in time so he can snag lunch with Jimmy and Abby.

"Tim?" That's not a Minion. His attention shifts away from the screen to the voice in his ear.

"Hey Sarah, what's up?"

"Glen asked me to marry him!"

He feels the smile spread across his face. "Congratulations. Date picked?"

"It's been two days."

"No, then. Sounds like you had an extra-special Valentine's?"

"Yep!" She sounds really excited. His email beeps, and he brings it up on his computer, seeing a shot of her left hand and the diamond solitaire sitting on her ring finger. Kind of plain by his tastes, but it's very simple and elegant, so he can see Sarah loving it.

"Looks like Glenn did good."

"Oh yeah."

He knows that tone of voice. The ultra-satisfied timbre of someone who's gotten exactly what she wanted. "You sound happy, are you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good." He nods, pleased. Then a thought hits. He is a big brother. A big brother who is soon to also be a brother-in-law, and he's feeling like he may have some duty toward his sister and her soon-to-be husband, so he says, "Come to Sunday breakfast with us?"

Not like Sarah just met him, she feels the change in how he's thinking about this, so she sounds a little wary when she says, "Why?"

Tim grins, but she can't see it. "Show of clan strength. I'm not doing my job as a big brother if I don't scare the snot out of him at least once."

"Really?" He can feel the eye roll aimed in his direction.

"Yep. It's in the big brother handbook. I'm required by law to take him out and make sure he knows that I and all of my friends will beat him within an inch of his life if he hurts you."

He hears an exasperated sigh. "Isn't that Dad's job?"

Tim snorts. "Like he'd do it."

He can feel her roll her eyes, again. "Fine." Sigh, palpable I'm humoring your vibes radiate off of Sarah. "When's Sunday breakfast?"

"Same as with the christening. Eight."

"You and all your friends?"

"Just me and the guys."

"How progressive of you," she says dryly.

He shakes his head. "No… You don't want us bringing the girls in! We want to scare him into behaving well. We bring in Abby and Ziva, and he'll wet his pants and run for the hills. He'll change his name, and you'll never see him again. We're just going to make sure he knows the rules."

"You're going to have way too much fun with this, aren't you?"

He's grinning. "That's entirely likely. So, you'll come?"

"Sure. Penny'll be there, right? I've called three times, but haven't been able to get a hold of her."

"Uh…" He doesn't actually know if she'll be there. "They're… somewhere. I'll ask Jimmy how long he's got Autopsy on his own."

"What do you mean somewhere?"

"Errr…" The flaw in Ducky's brilliant whirlwind romance wedding was suddenly staring him in the face, well, talking in his ear.

"Tim?"

"They um…" he says the next bit very fast, "kind of got married on Sunday, and are on their honeymoon."

"What?!"

"It was a surprise."

"How do you have a surprise wedding? It's a wedding, the one thing you can't do as a surprise. You've got forms to fill out and paperwork and…"

"I don't think they bothered with that. It was Molly's birthday party. She was down for her nap. Party was breaking up. He kissed her, said some really romantic things, whipped out the rings, asked to be her husband, asked her to be his wife, gave us just enough time to hug everyone and drink a toast, and then they were off on their honeymoon. Fifteen minutes, tops."

"If they didn't bother with the paperwork, it's not a wedding."

Tim shrugs. You ask him, they're married. The paperwork strikes him as extraneous. But that's a moot point right now. "I just… don't know when they'll be back. Don't know where they went. Jimmy thinks it's somewhere warm, but… For all we know they could be touring the fjords. But I can find out when they'll be back. Jimmy'll know."

"Fine. Let me know."

"Okay. So… Sunday? Putting the fear of big brother into Glenn?"

She sighs. "Sure."

"Good!"

He feels her roll her eyes one last time, and then she says, "Bye, " and hangs up.



He did get lunch with Jimmy and Abby (though it's takeout. They're in Autopsy, which isn't Tim's favorite place to eat, but Jimmy's on solo, so he has to be around if anyone needs him.)

"This is really clean?" Tim asks. They're sitting around one of the stainless steel autopsy tables, food still in its containers, but Tim's still a bit squeamish.

"Hosed off, washed down with alcohol, hosed off again, and tested three times a week for bacteria content, but if you'd like I can grab one of the sterile drapes we use for the bodies," Jimmy says as he opens his chicken curry.

Tim sighs, opening his carton of beef and green beans, making sure his chopsticks don't touch the table. Abby gently pokes him but he feels he's within his rights to have irrational hang-ups about eating on the autopsy tables.

Jimmy shakes his head. "Your desk is a bubbling cauldron of raging bacterial sex compared to this table."

"I know." Tim holds up his hands. "I don't want to think about it."

Jimmy smirks. Then takes a bite of his curry. "So, anything interesting today?"

"Oh." Tim looks to Abby, who's digging into her organic tofu-veggie stir fry. "You were right. I got the call today. Glenn proposed on Valentine's. They're coming for Sunday breakfast, so we're on put the fear of Big Brother into Glenn duty."

Abby's grinning at that. "Ohhh… That'll be fun."

Jimmy looks at her with wide eyes, and Tim shakes his head. "No. Me, Jimmy, Gibbs, Tony if he shows. If I let you put the fear of Abby into him, he'll run screaming for the hills." She's somewhere between pouting and pleased at that. She wants in on the fun, but enjoys having her superiority at this recognized.

"Breena told me Amy's bummed. No ring for her," Jimmy says.

"She and Collin have only been together for what… a year?" Abby asks. She and Breena (and over the course of a few Sundays, Amy, too) have talked about this.

Jimmy nods. "Something like that. Apparently he moved in last week, but Ed doesn't know, yet."

Tim cringes. "Oh, that's going to be a mess."

"Yeah, Breena's thinking she was hoping to present it as, 'We're getting married! Oh, and Colin's all moved in.'"

"He gonna flip out about them living together?" Tim asks.

"Well, he almost bit my head off for having sex with his daughter after we got married, so I can't imagine he'll be cool with Colin doing it before."

Tim shakes his head. "You know, I'm going to enjoy not being in the middle of that."

Jimmy and Abby both nod in agreement.

Abby takes a sip of her water, eating another bite of her lunch. Jimmy watches her. She's been eating really healthy lately. She even skipped birthday cake at Molly's party. (Hell, even he had a bite of that cake, because like her mama, Breena can really bake when she puts her mind to it.)

"Okay, what's with the ultra-healthy food. Are you trying to lose weight?"

"What?" She looks up at him, really startled and unhappy. "Do you think I need to lose weight?"

(Tim is very glad to not be in the middle of this, either. He pulls a few inches further back from the table and gets ready to duck if need be.)

"No! You look great. That's why I'm worried you might be trying to. You're drinking water, haven't seen a Pepsi, let alone a Caf-Pow in weeks, or any other sugar for that matter, and you've got, what, whole grain rice in your vegetarian stir-fry? What's going on?"

She looks at Tim, eyes slightly narrowed.

"I didn't say anything. We eat together all the time; he was bound to notice."

She sighs. "Since… the miscarriage… I've been trying to eat better. Don't want it to happen again." Her eyes narrow at Tim again. "He thinks it's silly."

"It's not silly, but… I don't think it'll do much, that's all. It can't hurt, but…" He shrugs. "It feels like a placebo to me, so if it tricks your body into doing what you want it to do, that's great, but I don't think it's science."

He looks at Jimmy who's got the I shouldn't have opened this can of worms look on his face. "You're the doctor, how much does it matter if the tofu's organic or not?"

"Uh…" He's frantically thinking of a way to get out of this. "Do I look like your OB? 'Cause that's who you need to talk to."

They both give him their That's a bullshit answer look.

"Fine. I don't know. I don't think it matters much, but if this job teaches you anything it's the everyone is different and just because something works, or doesn't, for 99% of the population doesn't mean it'll work, or not, for you. And the placebo thing is real, and it works. They've got cases of people who didn't get their chemo drugs, they were given sterile solution by accident, and still got better. No one's suggesting that's a good plan for Joe Average, but if you can swing it… And like Tim says, it can't hurt."

"But you don't think it really helps, do you?" Abby asks.

"I'm not an OB. I'm not a nutritionist. I know I've got a very delicately balanced system and all organic or not didn't make any difference I could tell. Upping veggies, that made me feel better. Saying goodbye to most carbs, same result. More good fats, more meat, and more eggs to replace those carbs, my body seemed to like that a lot. But one of the steps I tried, back when I was first diagnosed, was to do natural sugars instead of processed one, and I never saw any difference by subbing out white sugar for honey or maple syrup. Getting rid of high fructose corn syrup didn't help. So, sure eat the veggies, get lots of them. And protein is your friend, enjoy it," he points to his own curry, "real meat, nuts, and there's cream in the sauce, higher fat content means I won't get hungry again as soon as I do when I do all veg. I'd recommend that for anyone trying to eat better. No one ever ended up in worse health because they stopped sucking down piles of caffeinated sugar, so saying goodbye to the Caf-Pows and sleeping more isn't a bad plan. But I've got no idea if it'll affect your fertility at all."

Then he looks at Tim and back to Abby. "Neither of you drink much, but cold turkey, for both of you, is something that's got actual science behind it, proving that it helps… Sort of. For guys it helps with sperm count."

"Likely not a problem," Abby says.

Tim shrugs, unless they've been insanely lucky, she's right.

"For women not drinking while you're trying to get pregnant and the first few months helps avoid miscarriage, but… the information on that's kind of sketchy. In this country at least, the kind of woman who admits to drinking while pregnant isn't the kind of woman who's just having a glass of wine with dinner once a week. They know binge drinking causes problems. They know alcoholism causes problems. They know not drinking at all avoids them. They know that women who have fewer than two drinks a day are fine, but that's an average, and your mileage may vary, and you can't really prove something is safe, so the rule of thumb is no alcohol at all."

"So what you're saying is that best anyone knows we're already drinking less than the amount that would make a difference?" Tim asks.

"Probably. Not drinking won't hurt. None of this will hurt. But since you aren't binge drinking, it may not help, either. Just, I wouldn't stress out about it. Oh, speaking of things you can do that there's some science behind, stressing out about it does make fertility rates drop."

"You wouldn't stress out about it because you're not in spitting distance of the end of your fertility," Abby says to Jimmy. "Forty-two is next month. I'm getting to the end of my store of eggs and I don't want to waste any of them, so anything that may help just got added to the to-do list."

Jimmy nods. "Want me to do some research? Or give you my Physician's log in for PubMed? That'll get you full access to any of the articles you want."

Tim thinks that's a good way to diffuse the situation. And Abby nods. "Yes. Thanks."



Tim's been back at his desk for a few minutes when Jimmy texts him.

Come back down?

Okay.

He tells Soth he'll be in Autopsy, and if anyone needs him to head over and grab him, and then goes.

"Jimmy?"

"Here." He backs out of the storage closet. "Just getting more forms. When's that paperwork software going live?"

Tim crosses his fingers. "Week from tomorrow beta testing starts. You know you'll have to fill your stuff out by hand and do it with the computer while testing, right?"

"Yeah, if it doesn't work, yada yada yada. I got it the first time."

"Good. What's up?"

"How's she doing, really?"

Tim sighs. "Okay. Really. You know how much she loves not being in control, and she can't control this, but she can control what she eats, so the food's gotten really healthy. And you know we do morning yoga, or at least as much as we can."

Jimmy nods; he's familiar with how small people put a crimp in any sort of morning plans you might have.

"She's added some fertility poses and is centering the meditation that way. And like with the food, it doesn't hurt, but I don't think it actually helps, either. So, she's kind of frustrated with me because I'm not all gung ho on this."

"Frustrated?" Tim can tell Jimmy's asking if he's 'editing' the situation.

Tim shakes his head, frustrated isn't code for angry. "Yeah. Not angry. I'm not being a jerk about it. But she'd like me to be a better cheerleader on it, and I'm trying. I'm buying the organic veggies and making the food she likes when I'm on dinner duty, but my enthusiasm levels are leaving something to be desired."

"You're charting, right?"

"Of course, but… no egg to even shoot for, yet. Hoping we'd have gotten another chance by now, but…"

"But she's nursing and almost forty-two and every month isn't realistic right now."

"Right. From what we can tell, if there's an egg around we've gotten pregnant. Just... And that's only happened once so…"

"You okay, Tim?"

Tim shrugs. "Yeah. I'd love more kids but, right now at least, I could be happy with just Kelly."

Jimmy doesn't ask out loud, but Tim can see the look, the way he's watching to see if that's real or not.

Tim shrugs again, it's real enough. "I don't need it the way she does." Jimmy nods, that's definitely real. "So we're both trying to stay cool, because we both do know that massive, stressed-out, hissy fit isn't going to help. I'm working on being supportive. I mean, I'm eating the veggies, too, and doing the yoga, and I can not drink. Not like that's a problem, at all. But there's really only so much I can do for this and none of it seems really useful, you know?"

"See your OB?"

"If we get to six months post-nursing without her getting pregnant, that's the plan."

"Stop nursing sooner?"

"Maybe. We talked about it when Kelly was new, planned to nurse for a year, but if she wants to cut out earlier and buy more time, I'll support that."

"It sounds-"

"Really reasonable?"

"Yeah."

"It is. Apparently 'reasonable' is cold comfort when you're jonesing for another baby."

Jimmy nods, he knows all about that. "Yeah."

Tim's phone beeps and he looks at it. "Gotta run."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. You know how the job system works?"

"Sure."

"I'm the available tech with the highest specialty rating for the case that just came in. I gotta move."

"Go move!"



Glenn Holland actually is a good guy. He's warm, funny, smart, and Tim understands why his sister loves him. As potential husbands go, he approves.

This does not, however, get him a pass from being dragged to the side by the various males of clan Gibbs as Sunday breakfast comes to a close.

Glenn half-smiles at him as he notices he's being pulled further and further back from the rest of the crowd, who are getting in cars and heading toward church. He holds his hands up, "Look, your Dad already did the hurt my little girl and I'll kill you in ways that hurt so bad just imagining them will make you break out in a cold sweat."

Tim nods at that. Bit surprised that the Admiral would make the effort, but he was always good at scaring the shit out of people by threatening them.

"This isn't the hurt my sister and die speech. Unlike my Dad, I actually know something about being a good husband." He points to Jimmy, Ducky, and Gibbs who are all surrounding Glenn. "They do, too. Any husband who's been around for more than a year will do something that hurts his wife sooner or later. Even if you're trying, it'll happen. That's just being alive and being a human being in close proximity to another human being every day for the rest of your life."

He can feel Jimmy thinking toothpaste even though he doesn't say it.

"This isn't even the marry her and you will stay married for the rest of your life, speech. We all know that can be a recipe for misery, and I don't want that for her, or you for that matter."

"So what is this?" Glenn looks legitimately curious. This is very much not the conversation he had with Admiral McGee.

"The rules. They're simple, and there aren't a lot of them. One: as long as you are a firefighter, you will have life insurance. You will have about five times more life insurance than you think you need. You stop being a firefighter, you can go back to the basic just get the job done level, but as long as you're out there risking your life running into burning buildings, you are going to make sure that she and your kids are covered.

"Two: If it doesn't work out, and you guys decide to split, you will pay child support and you will be a dad. I want it in your mind that there are men who will literally hunt you to the end of the earth and will fuck you over so badly on so many different levels you'll wish your parents had never met if you try to skip out on your kids."

Glenn nods with that, seems to agree, but he's looking a little disturbed at the language. He's never seen Tim be anything other than mild-mannered computer guy, the cursing is unsettling.

Tim takes that nod as his due, and also as a sign of Glenn being a basically decent guy. Then he doubles down. "If you think my Dad was scary, I want you to remember something, I learned everything he ever had to offer and then I spent the next fifteen years of my life putting away killers. I've got a library of twisted shit so vast and so varied that it'd make him blanch if he ever had to come face to face with it."

Glenn starts to look very disturbed. Tim finds that deeply satisfying.

"Three: If you ever find yourself contemplating something stupid, something where the words, 'I never meant to hurt you' translate into 'I never meant for you to find out,' don't do it." Glenn quickly nods along to that. "Honestly, you ever get in trouble, any kind, where you really are thinking, 'I never meant for you to find out,' come to us, we're amazingly resourceful at solving problems and helping each other cope with wanting things that are bad for you."

Jimmy's nodding along with that. "Anytime. Really. We're good at this, and our wedding present to you is that if you need it, help is always on offer."

Tim hadn't expect this to go that far, but he figures Jimmy's doing well, so he rolls with it.

"Look, you hurt her accidentally, that's just being alive. You hurt her intentionally. You do something where you know that if she finds out about it, it will make her cry, then I will make you cry. Make her cry badly enough, and next thing you know every FBI agent on Earth will be in your home pulling more kiddie porn than you ever knew could exist off of your hard drive. And then you'll get transferred to whatever holding cell has the guys who were the victims of pedophiles in it." Tim smiles blandly. "That's assuming they," he looks at Jimmy, Ducky, and Gibbs, "don't get you first." Glenn's eyes are very wide right now. He's thinking having the Admiral beat the shit out of him is vastly preferable to what McGee the younger will do.

Tim clasps a hand over Glenn's shoulder. "There is exactly one acceptable reason for my sister to be crying on me about something you did intentionally, and that's because you got hurt or died saving someone else. We good?"

Glenn nods slowly. "We're good."

"Wonderful."

Tim watches Glenn head back Sarah's car, he sees the somewhat stunned look on his face and enjoys it. Glenn says something to Sarah, but he can't lip read well enough to know what.

But Gibbs laughs and says, "He just told your sister, 'Your family is fucking terrifying.'" Gibbs put his arm around Tim's shoulder and nods slowly. "Good job."

Tim grins at him. "Thanks, I was well-trained."



He gets out of church and turns his phone back on. (He may be a heathen atheist, but he's a heathen atheist with manners; he turns his phone off in church. The Minions know that's a black out time for him, and where he is so if it's urgent enough they can go and get him.) There's a very irate text from his sister on there that says, KIDDIE PORN?

He laughs.

To any sane man, that's the scariest threat in my arsenal.

TIM! What the fuck?

Love you, too, Sis. And it looks like he does, too, so this'll never be any sort of issue.

You don't do that to people, don't say that… Just… Tim!

Honestly, is he bothered? Did he think I was out of line?

There's a pause. Abby's getting Kelly buckled into her car seat. "Trouble?"

"I don't think so. She's less than perfectly happy with my Fear of Big Brother technique."

Abby nods.

No. He's taking notes for when his little sister gets engaged.

Good man!

Ugh. Men!

:)



It's after Sunday dinner, after Bootcamp, and just like Glenn didn't have any trouble figuring out he was being weeded out of the herd for a private conversation, Tim's not having any issues with figuring it out, either.
Jimmy and Gibbs look... concerned.

"What?" he finally asks.

Jimmy looks to Gibbs. Gibbs looks back. They both look at Tim. Tim gets the sense they didn't plan this out, just came to the conclusion, at the same time, that it had to happen.

"Wedding coming up," Gibbs says.

"And your mom and dad'll probably be there, right?"

Tim had indeed already come to that conclusion, talked with Abby about it a bit. "Yeah. Probably."

"You going to go?" Jimmy asks.

Tim shrugs. "I don't know. I want to see her get married. I want to be there for her, and support her, and celebrate with her, but I could easily go the rest of my life without ever seeing either of them again." He shrugs again. "How about this, I'll burn that bridge when I come to it? When she gets a date and everything set, when we know for a fact The Admiral is actually attending, because if she picks a time when he's on duty, he won't. He didn't get out of a shift for her birth, I can't imagine he'll take time off for her wedding. When we know that… We'll figure it out from there."

Gibbs nods at that, and Jimmy seems to think that's an okay place to be.

Next

Friday, August 1, 2014

Shards To A Whole: Senior

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



Chapter 358: Senior



To call or not to call.

Sigh.

Gibbs stares at his computer. Telling it to go find him run-of-the-mill family vacation homes on the water had been more difficult than he'd wanted. But, still, a whole lot of options popped up, he found some he liked, and he didn't have to talk to a Realtor.

But he's not just looking for a home now, he's looking for an estate. And judging by what he's coming up with… This isn't going to work.

He can find properties, top of the line, in spiffy shape, all shiny and pretty and in move in condition. And it's not like that's a bad thing, but… either they're smaller than he wants, or they're further away from the water. He wants land, space, and water access. Granite counter tops, Jacuzzi tubs, and stainless steel appliances don't matter all that much to him.

And beat up places… He's not seeing them at all.

Which he supposes makes a certain amount of sense. If you've got a place that big, you're probably keeping it up.

He feels like there's some sort of rich person club. They've got people to do stuff like this for them, but he's not hooked into the club.

So, keep scouring the internet hoping to just trip into something, or call Senior (who is hooked into the club) and see if he knows someone?



It's not like he loathes Senior or anything. It's just… he knows a fuck-up when he sees one, and Senior's a fuck-up. Granted, he's a fuck-up who's getting to be less of one, but it shouldn't take a man seventy-five years to decide to be a better person. Let alone an additional seven years to go from fuck-up to okay. (At the rate he's going, Senior's going to have to make it to ninety before he gets to Gibbs' idea of a stand up guy.)

And, it's probably a lot of his own background coming into play, because on the cosmic scale of fuck-ups Gibbs has seen vastly worse. And, hell when it comes to marriages, he may even be a worse fuck-up. To hear Tony tell it Senior gets all caught up in the romance and ends up with a new wife every few years because he's just in the moment, not using them as human anti-depressants… But…

But if Kelly had lived… He doesn't know what he would have done. Active-duty Marine isn't a good match for a man who's the sole support for a child. Maybe moved back up north and helped his dad with the store. That would have been a good, stable life, for both of them. He does know boarding school and pretending she didn't exist would have been nowhere on the plan. He would have been there for her every single day.

But Senior didn't do that for Tony. He fucked-up. He raised a decent boy into a fuck-up and left Gibbs with twelve years of trying to get that decent man out from under the fuck-up.

Gibbs feels a dull sadness with that. He assumes that it's a combination of the traditional sadness he always feels when he tries to imagine any sort of life with Kelly, mixed with the sorrow that hits him when he thinks of the chance Senior wasted.

He starts to do his usual pushing it away, moving onto the next challenge, (calling Senior) but it won't fade into the background, so he lets himself feel it, lets himself figure out what this is.

It takes a minute, spent thinking about family patterns, before it hits him. His father was a widower with a teen. Senior, a widower with a child. Himself, lost both of them.

Something about that pattern jumps up, wanting him to pay attention.

And when he gets it, it feels like a punch. He closes his eyes, exhales, and says, "Oh, Dad."

Senior ran away. Jack stayed. Gibbs was fourteen, and he was angry, and he hated his Dad and everyone else, and he didn't know what to do with that angry, so he pissed Jack off every day, every way he could.

And Jack stayed. And he took it. And he kept him close and looked out for him and protected him, and he was just as lost as Senior was, probably just as lost as Jethro, but he stayed. And more nights passed with Jack halfway in the bottle than Gibbs could count, but every morning he got back up, ran the store, took Leroy's shit (He was still Leroy then. Didn't start introducing himself as Jethro for another two years, because his dad called him Leroy, so he needed to be different. And his mom called him Leroy, and he couldn't take that constant reminder of the family he didn't have anymore.) and muddled on through, keeping them together because that was his job.

Jack was a dad, and it was his job to raise his son, not palm him off on strangers because it was convenient. Not banish the living reminder of the home he no longer had away from his sight so he could pretend it never happened.

Sorry Dad
"You'll understand when you're older." How many times did Jack say that to him? More than he could count. He looks up, wishing he could give his dad a call and say, 'I'm sorry. I get it now.' But he can't. Ten months too late for that.

He says it out-loud anyway. "I'm sorry, Dad." And it helps, a little. Unlike Mike, he's never really felt the presence of Jack, and he doesn't, not now. "I miss you." That helps a bit, too, but it doesn't bring him back.

He sighs, pets Mona, who's staring at him, trying to figure out why he's talking, and goes back to googling, not really feeling like talking to Senior right now.



In the end though, he just doesn't know. He's not finding what he wants because he's not hooked into the people who do this sort of thing, and he can either hire a stranger or give Senior a call.

So he calls.

"Jethro?"

"Hey, you got some time?"

For a second Senior doesn't breathe, then he says, "Whatever it is, you can tell me right now, I can take it." Senior's voice is quavering, and Gibbs can feel the wave of fear coming from him. He probably should have expected that. The only reason he would call, normally, would be to say something very bad had happened to Tony or Ziva.

"Nothing bad. They're both fine. I wanted to talk real estate."

A palpable wave of relief washes over the phone lines. Senior swallows hard, and says, "Okay. That I can do. What do you want to know?"

"I need help finding a place. Feel like getting some coffee with me?"

"Sure, Jethro."



It's just… coincidence, really, that he set their meeting at Java Jane's. The cookies and coffee were, good, really, that's it.

She's probably still working, hard. Because that's how cases, even easy cases, tend to go. They're almost never done in one day.

But, he really wouldn't mind if she ran into him.

He checks his phone. Been less than twenty-four hours since the last text. That's not the end of the world. Just… feels like a long time when you're not running around like crazy between texts.

Senior comes in, waves, and sits in front of Gibbs, pulling his mind away from Borin.

"Little out of your way?" Senior asks as he sits down.

"Coffee's good." Gibbs pushes a cup of coffee toward him, and Senior nods, accepting it, taking a sip.

"It is. So, what can I help with? You looking to scale down?"

Gibbs shakes his head. "Not looking for me. This is… It's a surprise, for the kids, so they can't hear about this from you."

Senior looks shocked that Gibbs might take him into his confidence, and then very proud. Gibbs isn't exactly laying odds on Senior keeping quiet about this, but it's also not the end of the world if he tells Tony and Ziva, he's sure they'll keep quiet about it if Senior leaks.

"Ducky and Penny are looking to get a place for us. Mallard Manor or something like that. Family estate. We're not all at the Navy Yard all the time, so they want to make a home for us."

Senior's eyes light up. "Big place, on the water. It's got to have room for your boat, and room for all the kids and…"

Gibbs nods, kind of surprised at how rapidly Senior's getting this. Of course, for all he knows his family may have had one of these once upon a time. "Exactly. At least seven bedrooms. On the Potomac or Chesapeake. It can't be so far away that getting there on the weekends is an issue. I'm retired, so I'm on finding it duty, and I'm not seeing it."

Senior nods. "What's your price ceiling?"

"Two point seven million. It can be, and probably should be, beat all to hell up. If you can find me ten bedrooms with roof damage and broken windows, that'd be perfect."

Senior thinks about that for a moment. At that price range, you can afford not beat up. "Why beat up?"

"Get more house for the money? Better location for fewer dollars? Kids can put in labor so it doesn't feel entirely like a gift. So it's as much their home as Ducky and Penny's."

Senior pulls out his phone and starts flipping through names. "This isn't the kind of deal I normally work… But…" He flips some more. "Yeah." He's nodding, taps the phone a few times, and then Gibbs' phone beeps. "Just sent you the name of a friend of a friend. She specializes in settling estates. Might not be fast, but when someone dies with a lot of money and land, she comes in and takes care of everything so the kids don't have to. If anyone will have a line on the kind of place you're looking for, Jenny will."

"Thank you."

He taps his phone a few more times, and Gibbs phone beeps again. "Name of a lawyer who's good at structuring wills and trusts. Buying property with a woman you're not married to is a pain in the ass for everyone down stream of you. Among other things, at your price range, you're looking to get hit hard by the inheritance taxes, so you want this protected so you don't have to sell it in five years to pay the taxes on it. Bob's good at what he does. Knows his way around a will inside and out, never met an estate he couldn't tame."

Gibbs nods at that, then smiles.

Senior sees that smile and his eyes narrow. "Or is Ducky not buying property with a woman he's not married to?"

"Surprise wedding at Jimmy and Breena's yesterday. Off honeymooning now. Not even sure where they are."

"Good for him! You love a woman, you should marry her, none of this just living together fooling around."

Gibbs raises an eyebrow.

Senior shrugs. "Just because I'm not good at the follow through doesn't mean I don't get the basic idea."

Gibbs shrugs at that, too. "How's wedding planning going?"

"Great. Delphine's having a blast. She's only done this once before, and last time her mom was in charge. So she's really enjoying getting to plan the wedding that she wants. Nothing makes a woman happy the way planning a wedding does, and… I love that. Love how excited they get. Love how the details make them happy. Love that I can say, make it the way you want it, however you want it, and then they go do it."

"Thought you eloped six times."

Senior thinks about that. "Four. Junior never quite remembers how many times I've been married. And he boycotted two of the weddings when he was a teen/early twenties."

"How many times have you been married?"

"Lucky nine is coming up."

"Lucky?"

"Hope so. Maybe this time I've learned enough to make one work."

"Here's hoping." They both drink their coffees. "How's looking for a place for Tony and Ziva going?"

Senior shrugs. "Haven't found anything I love yet, and if I'm not loving it, I'm not passing it on to them."

Gibbs squints at that.

"Not, love in the sense of 'this is a perfect neighborhood' or 'ohhh granite counter tops' none of the deals have been good enough yet. Too beat up, for the price. I'm not touching anything we'd have to bulldoze and build anew from the ground up. Some of the one's I'm watching haven't been on the market long enough. We're not touching anything that hasn't been on the market for a year, and eighteen months is even better. And if it's had a bid placed on it in the last six months, we're not going for it. I'm going to lowball the first offer, hard, at least thirty percent under the list price. They're going to come back with a higher number, but if they've been trying to sell for a long time, that higher number will be lower than the list price. I'll give them 10% below that price, but offer to settle fast. Cash in hand in two weeks or so. They'll bite. But that deal doesn't work with the wrong place or the wrong buyer. Do this right, you'll get more house, and a better location, for a better price, than you can from a foreclosure sale."

That makes a certain amount of sense to Jethro, though it's not the way he'd ever look at buying a house.

Senior stares at his cup for a moment, serious. "Take a piece of advice from me, Jethro? Something I have learned. Pass it on to Ducky and Penny."

Gibbs inclines his head, somewhat curious as to what sort of advice Senior has to offer.

"I know you don't think of me as a font of good advice, but I've been down this block, a lot. The kids are adults, so they'll be fine. They're all set as themselves and a big gift like this isn't going to change that, but keep an eye out for the little ones. Tony's the only one of our kids, my family's kids, that's worth a damn. He's also the only one we cut off. The only one we made sink or swim. Lots of money is not a blessing, especially for children. You've got some very sweet girls, and, just… keep an eye on it.

"I was talking to Ed… I know he hopes his girls do better than he did, that they hit real wealth, but…" Senior shakes his head. "Ed's as rich as you can be and still safely raise kids. Much past that, and… it's just too easy to buy everything. You work hard, you save up, you invest well, and then you want to play when you're not working. You buy the toys you always wanted, the toys you worked hard for. And your kids see you do that, and they don't get the work that went into it, because they're not seeing you working, or don't understand it if they did, they just see the toys. To them it looks like you get to have whatever you want whenever you want it.

"They end up with expensive taste, because they're being raised in an expensive home, but they're kids and the paper route isn't ever going to buy them one of the Ferraris you just got yourself. It makes them envious if you try to stick with the you've got to work for your money line, makes them feel like work is useless because there's nothing they can do to get the kind of toys they want to play with. It makes them resent you, because you've got the toys, and they don't, and they don't have any context for why you do and they don't. It makes you feel like an ass, so you buy the toys for them. Why not? You've got the money. What's the point of money if you can't make people happy with it?

"But money doesn't make people happy. You end up breeding monsters and constantly feeding them. You can have money, have piles of it, but if you use it for all the things, they end up unhappy, wasted adults." Senior shakes his head. "Make it a home, fill it with people and memories, use that money to buy time together, but besides big and well-located, keep it simple."

Gibbs nods at that. "That's the plan."

"Good. It's good plan."

They both drink again. Senior's here. And Gibbs doesn't know. Tony's mentioned that it happened, and Gibbs filled in his own blanks, teasing him about it, poking him around Kate, but…

But he doesn't actually know why Tony got cut off. And Senior's here, and has mentioned it…

"Why'd you cut Tony off?"

Senior sighs. "He hated books, didn't like to study, didn't want to be a doctor or lawyer or anything like that, which wasn't a problem. I'm not a lawyer, neither was his granddad, we all made our money without a college degree. Except he also didn't like to work, either. He wasn't interested in making deals. He didn't want to build things. He just wanted to play sports. And he was good at them, but not pro-good. He was seventeen, best center at his school, best of any of the schools they played, but his boarding school wasn't exactly swarming with college scouts, let alone NBA scouts. So I said, no. We'd pay for school if he wanted to learn something. Phys-ed major wasn't going to cut it. If he wanted to work one of the crews, learn a trade, that was fine, we'd support him through that. If he wanted to start shadowing me, learning how to find deals and work them, he was welcome to join in.

"He wanted to shoot hoops. I told him we wouldn't support him through that.

"He got the basketball scholarship to Ohio State. Which was great, but it wasn't a first rung school. He did well, but being the league scorer in a second rate league in a second rate school didn't get the NBA calling. And by the time he was ready to graduate he'd decided on being a cop, and was too damn proud to ask to come back.

"By that point I'd noticed he was the only one doing anything useful with his life. His cousins are professional dilettantes, useless, and trust me, I know useless. His cousins are the kind of guys I charm into paying for me when money's scarce. People who are so lonely they're willing to pay for entertaining company." Senior waves dismissively. "When Junior graduated, I didn't offer to start bankrolling him again. Might be the only good decision I ever made for him."

Gibbs nods at that. Agreeing.

They sit there quietly, not having a whole lot else to say to each other, and Gibbs isn't exactly the poster boy for meaningless chit-chat. It's not precisely awkward, but not comfortable either.

Finally he finishes his coffee and says, "Thanks."

Senior nods. "Glad to be of help."

Gibbs is gathering up his stuff, getting ready to go when Senior says, "Just about had a heart attack when I saw your name come up on my caller ID. I do a pretty good job of not thinking about how dangerous Junior's job is, but every now and again I can't ignore it."

Gibbs nods. "Didn't think about that until you picked up." He shakes his head. "If… If a call like that ever needs to be made, it'll be in person. As long as you're anywhere even close to nearby, one of us will come in person. We don't drop that kind of news over the phone."

"Okay." Senior nods. "That's… comforting. I guess. Just, don't ever show up at my door without calling first. Don't want to feel that again."

Gibbs smiles. "Not a problem."

"Thanks." He finishes off his coffee as well. "Okay, got to get moving."

Gibbs nods again. "Enjoy!"

"Thanks. Got an angle on a drug company that I want some more information about."

One last nod from Gibbs, and Senior heads off.

Gibbs lingers, sitting at his table. He calls Jenny, getting her machine and leaves a message, explaining who had referred her and what he was looking for. After twenty more minutes, he gets up and leaves. Borin wandering in was a long shot, anyway.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Valentine's Tim

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


Chapter 357: Valentine's: Tim

"God, Borin must be so hot! I mean, I knew she had to be, but… Damn!" They're back at Tim's house, lurking in the kitchen as Tim gets dinner ready, and Tony's been… talking is probably a stretch, musing might be better, as to exactly how those bite marks got on Gibbs.

Tim and Jimmy have gotten to the eye-rolling stage, because, while it's true that all three of them just stared at Gibbs as he headed into the showers, more less all thinking the same, God damn, good for you, Gibbs! and it's also true that both of them are interested in gossiping about this, they don't want to gossip with Tony about it, they want to tell their wives.

And it may be that Tony wants to talk to Ziva, but she's not here, and they are, so he's chattering away, sitting on the floor, stacking blocks for Kelly, while Jimmy finishes feeding Anna her bottle, and Molly plays with her new birthday toys.

"It's a good thing you muffed asking her out, McGee. She would have killed you."

"That was her!" Jimmy says, eyes wide. Tony more or less sprinted down to Autopsy to produce a verbatim re-do of Tim asking out Borin as soon as he got a shot, and Jimmy laughed so hard he almost wet his pants. (Ducky had to take his glasses off to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.)

Tim gives both of them the stink-eye. "I needed a way to get tickets for something fun to take Abby, my Abby, to without it looking like a date. So, I had you buy tickets, did the worst job I possibly could asking Borin out, oh, and by the way, later that night, when you and Ziva were playing darts, she still said 'Yes,' which meant I had to explain how I hadn't actually intended for her to be even remotely interested in saying yes, so she wished me luck, which is why Borin knew about Abby and I before you did, Tony.

"So, while you full-on chickened out, I asked Borin and Abby out in one day and both of them said yes. And, Tony, just because I haven't had any the last two weeks, so you haven't seen them, it's not like Jimmy
and Gibbs have never seen me in the locker room sporting hickies." He taps his wrist cuff. "I started wearing this to cover some bruises I really enjoyed getting."

"Why would you have a hickie on your wrist?" Jimmy asks. Yes, he's seen the occasional love bite on Tim, but never one there. Wrist sucking doesn't strike him as particularly erotic, but Tim's into some weird stuff, sooo...

Tim smirks. "Wasn't a hickie."

"What was it?" Jimmy asks, curious. Tim gives him a long look and after a second the light goes on and Jimmy says, "Oh."

Tim nods.

Tony squints a bit at that, then shrugs and comes back with, "I didn't chicken out!"

"Sure," Tim says, sarcasm high. "You were going to 'let me have her.'" He rolls his eyes.

Tony glares at him. Jimmy flashes a curious look to Tony. "You left that part out."

"When you know you're in love with someone else, you don't ask out a woman who might expect more than a quick fu—good time." Molly's looking up at him with very big eyes, listening intently. This conversation probably doesn't make much sense to her, but he's fairly sure that she'll pick up on that word and start repeating it if she hears it. And he does not want to have a conversation with Breena about how her two-year-old learned that word. No, he's more than happy to have that be on Dad or Uncle Tim. "Those days all I was doing was picking girls up at bars. Wasn't looking for anyone who might expect me to spend the night. And someone I'd work with…" Tony shakes his head vigorously. "No… Let alone the female version of Gibbs. That'd be a disaster all around. Still, don't think I've ever seen him that relaxed."

Jimmy nods, and Tim has to agree with that. "When we lived on base housing, there was this one guy, three houses over, old, been in the Navy forever, he'd call it 'gettin' your ashes hauled.'" Tim's also aware of the two-year-old listening to this conversation while she plays with her birthday toys. "Yeah, those were some hauled ashes."

"Bet she's pretty damn relaxed, too," Tony says with a smirk.

"Think she's on a case? Maybe… I don't know, being nice, and smiling, and driving her co-workers crazy because they can't figure out what the hell happened to the Borin they know?" Tim asks with a chuckle.

"No!" Tony shakes his head definitively. "You remember Gibbs on a case with Hollis? She's biting everyone's heads off trying to get the job done faster so she can go bite on Gibbs some more."
Jimmy and Tim laugh at that.

Molly pipes up. "No biting!"

"You're right, Molly, no biting." Jimmy stares at Tony did you have to mention biting on his face. Tony looks back at him you were laughing, too on his. "You don't bite the people at day care or your sister. Uncle Jethro's friend was being very naughty."

"Very naughty," Tony says with a smirk. Tim and Jimmy try not to laugh.

She nods, pleased that she's correctly remembering the rules, and then returns to whacking the little dolls that pop up on her game.

"Wouldn't have pegged her for a… kisser," Tony says, watching Molly play.

Jimmy shrugs. "Basic anatomy Tony, orgasm causes muscle spasms. More intense the orgasm the more muscles spasm. Jaw's a muscle. There's a reason why simultaneous orgasms and sixty-nining isn't a great plan."

Tim and Tony just stare at him, and Jimmy looks back at them, smug, and says to Tim, "What, you think you're the only one who's ever made a girl black out? Gibbs was just lucky she had his thigh in her mouth. 'Course, that tension/release response works both ways, bet she's got some interesting marks, too."

"Palmer, that was one sentence further than you needed to go. I don't need images of Gibbs getting off in my head," Tony says.

Jimmy shrugs. Good for the goose, good for the gander, right? Not like he edits Gibbs out of the mental pictures that go along with this conversation. Apparently, Tony does. "Okay, here's a better image. What do you think our girls are doing?" He's patting Anna's back, trying to get a burp out of her as he asks.

"What makes you think we know any more than you do?" Tim asks, as the timer on the oven bings. He pulls dinner for the four of them that eat solid food out of the oven. (Baked salmon, roasted onions, zucchini, and eggplant.)

Jimmy flashes Tim his I can't believe you just asked me that look. "Gosh, I don't know? Somehow I got this weird idea that you two were like, cops, and that Tony never met a mystery he could leave be, and you peek at you presents ahead of time, so, like, maybe you two would have snooped or something?"

Tony opens his mouth to say something along the lines of how, as a now veteran husband, he's learned that if Ziva says leave it alone, he's going to leave it alone. But he's cut short when all three of their cells buzz in quick succession.

Tim's had a text from Abby. Check your email.

He flashes back. Checking.

It takes his security program a few seconds to burn through the encryption on her email, but finally it does, and he sees there are ten photos and a video linked to it.

As soon as he opens the first photo, memories of Afghanistan and the day he got home from Afghanistan flood through him. Same cobalt blue teddy with white lace trim, same matching panties, but this one isn't a selfie, Breena or Ziva must have snapped it.

She's kneeling on the bed, Jimmy and Breena's bed, nibbling her bottom lip, nipples hard, hands clasped behind her back, sweet, innocent, but not really expression on her face, her makeup soft and natural looking. The sheets and pillows are mussed, her hair is wild, and she looks like she's just hopped up from bed to greet him and invite him to join her.

He closes his eyes and bites his lip. Fuck!

He can hear Tony chuckling, and Jimmy's not making any noise at all.

He knows not to look at the other nine pictures. They're all going to be variations on this theme and he can see from the thumbnails they're going to get sexier and sexier.

"Killing us, Jimmy, that's what they're doing," he says as he sees the little icon for a movie.

Jimmy nods slowly, not looking away from whatever's on his phone.

Tim can't make himself not click on the video. His brain is reminding him he's standing in the kitchen, Jimmy and Tony four feet away, Molly and Kelly on the floor, and there's absolutely no shot at all that he can watch anything that'll be on there and not get hard, but his finger still taps the screen and it starts to play.

He hears a quick giggle and hits mute, fast. He does not want Tony or Jimmy to hear whatever it is that's coming up.

Apparently Ziva had to be filming this one because he could see Breena and Abby. He feels his heart start to speed up. They're both in little teddies. Abby's in the blue and white one. Breena's in light pink with a little pink thong. They're on what has to be Breena and Jimmy's bed, sitting next to each other, Abby half kneeling, feet tucked under her butt, facing Breena. Breena's cross-legged, facing the camera. They both wave at the camera; Abby blows it a little kiss, and Breena winks, mouthing 'Happy Valentine's Day!', then Abby turns toward Breena, cups her face in her hands, while Breena's hands slip up her arms to lightly rest on her shoulder, for a second Abby's eyes flicked to the camera, and Breena grins, and then they kiss.

Tim whimpers. He can't make that sound not rip from his mouth.

Soft, slow, and wet kissing. Full, luscious red and pink lips rubbing all over each other, little, tiny glimpses of wet, pink tongues stroking each other, and Abby runs her hand through Breena's hair, her long, tumbling along her back in soft curls, hair, and Breena reaches up, pressing her body into Abby's, and every single ounce of blood in Tim's body is racing toward his dick as fast as it can possibly go.

He hears Jimmy choke next to him and realizes he must be seeing the same thing.

"What?" Tony asks. He's starting to circle around to see, and Tim rapidly tucks his phone into his pocket. Tony takes a step toward Jimmy, and Tim has enough presence of mind to grab him and stop him, because from the look on Jimmy's face he's completely unaware of the fact that he's in Tim's kitchen with two other guys.

Finally, Tim pulls enough brain cells together to say, "You just get an email from Ziva?"

"Yeah." Tony grins.

"Good stuff in there?"

"Promise of good stuff later."

Tim takes a deep breath. Abby knows how to encrypt an email. So what he got was encrypted. He doubts Ziva does, and she'd be aware enough of the risk, so she wouldn't send something like that without encryption, and Breena just wouldn't care.

"It's really good stuff. Jimmy and I just got ours."

"How good?" Tony glances at Jimmy, seeing him completely absorbed by whatever he's watching, absently patting Anna.

Jimmy's still staring at his phone. Tim watches him, sees the tension in his face and shoulders, realizes that kiss must still be going on and that it's possible there was more than kissing happening and oh fucking god he needs to be seeing that right this second, but Tony's still next to him, waiting for him to say more.

"It's really, really good." He says, eyes closed and nodding.

"Like, dirty pictures?" Tony says with a wide grin on his face.

"Yeah, like that."

And Tony, understanding the guy code of you don't look at another man's wife, especially if she might be naked, takes a step back, so there's no shot of seeing the screen on Jimmy's phone, and says, "So, you two got emails of really, really good stuff, and I got an email telling me there would be good stuff later."

"Apparently."

Jimmy finally blinks, puts his phone into his pocket, hand shaking, carefully gives Anna to Tim, and walks out of the kitchen without saying anything.

Tony watches him do it. "I really don't want to know what he's about to do, do I?"

"Probably not." Tim shakes his head. "Let's put it this way, Breena, Abby, and Ziva don't seem to get that there's a point where teasing stops being fun and crosses the line into torture. And in that Anna's a little over two months old, my guess is that tonight is supposed to be their first night back at it…"

"Oh!" Tony suddenly gets exactly (okay, not exactly, but he's got a much better idea of why Jimmy's acting like a fourteen-year-old) what's going on with Jimmy.

"Yeah. Can I have your cell?"

Tony looks confused. "Why do you want mine?"

"Because if I take mine out of my pocket, I'll see the end of what Jimmy was just watching, and… now's not the time."

"Wait, why did you guys get the same… watching… video?"

Tim swallows. "Because Abby and Breena are evil and enlisted Ziva to help them be evil."

Tony's eyes go really wide and his expression seems to be somewhere between blind with lust and homicidal rage. "Abby and Breena and Ziva?"

"From what I saw, Ziva was the camerawoman."

Tony looks much more relieved, and then a really dirty smirk spread across his face. "Breena and Abby?"

"Yeah, and I need to send her a text and if I pull my phone out, I'll just watch them, and end up in pretty close to the same state Jimmy is."

Tony laughs and hands over his phone. Tim sends a quick text to Abby and Breena.

Tim here. You are EVIL! Jimmy's brain melted. That was not nice!

A minute later he feels his phone buzz, so he takes it out, sees the video has ended and finds Yours didn't? from Abby.

I stopped watching! I'm in the kitchen with two other guys and three babies. That was not cool at all.

He can feel her grin from here. It was kind of cool. ;)

No! Got babies to watch, Tony to entertain, and dinner to eat, and all I can think about is what's on this email.

That's the idea.

EVIL

Come on, you know you like it. :) 

Not saying I don't. (Really, not saying that at all!) But your timing sucks. You do not send something like that to three guys when we're together. Seriously, Jimmy's either icing himself down or jerking off in our bathroom, and I'm sure as hell not getting close enough to figure out which.

LOL

Breena here: He's what?

He's got his phone on him, go text him.

Okay

Abby again: What's Tony doing?

Grinning like a smug moron. Ziva just told him good stuff would be coming later. He didn't end up seeing anything too revealing because she seems to get how this works.

Okay, sorry. Next time Breena and I decide to make some smut for you guys, we'll make sure you're alone before sending it off.

Thank you. That's all I'm asking for. Wait… Again?

Well, we had fun doing it. Sounds like timing aside, you're enjoying it.

Oh fucking God YES! (sound of me whimpering for mercy and begging for more)

He can imagine how satisfied she's looking when she reads that. A second later he gets. J So, yeah, there'll be a next time.

When are you coming home?

Breena's wrapping up Ziva's pics, and I'm wrapping up the Photoshopping on them, so… call it another hour and a half?

Okay, see you then.

Good.

You're getting fucked through the wall when you get here. Putting Kelly to bed early, waiting for you naked and eager, and as soon as you're in the door I'm wrapping your legs around my waist, backing you into a wall and showing you exactly how hard you and Breena kissing makes me.

Good. Wanna feel you in me as soon as I get home.

He groans when he reads that, sees Tony staring at him, curious, and says, "Gibbs isn't the only one getting his ashes hauled."

Tony laughs at that.



An hour later, as he's feeding Kelly, after the guys left, Tim decides to look at the pictures and watch the video.

It's not like he's unfamiliar with sexual arousal or desire.

And it's not like he and Abby never play games or she never dresses up for him.

But it has been a while.

And this…

They're pin ups. No full nudity. Nothing that'd get more than a PG-13. But each costume has been picked to hit his buttons and her hair and makeup is carefully done for each of them. He can tell that in some of them she has to be wearing Breena or Ziva's stuff, because it's nothing like what she owns and it's a little too small on her, but that's oh so good, too.

Some of them are a little translucent so he gets glimpses of shadows of tattoos and nipples. And there's one where she's lying on the bed, on her stomach, propped on her elbows, wearing a red satin slip, reading one of his books, and her legs are spread almost far enough apart for him to get a glimpse of pussy, but just not quite far enough apart for it, and the slip is just tight enough and sheer enough that he can see the line between her buttocks, and fuck these shots are just killing him.

Kelly's complaining because he's not being properly attentive to getting the food into her mouth. So he shuts down the phone and tries to focus on baby wrangling.

Dinner for Kelly, bath time, because at seven months old she needs to be hosed down after all non-nursing meal, and then Goodnight Moon, lullabies, and sleep time.

Which puts him at twenty minutes until Abby's due home.

So he opens the video, and God, it hits him just as hard, if not harder, because he's not in the kitchen with two other guys, and this time there's sound.

They're kissing, petting each other gently, and Abby keeps playing with Breena's hair, and Breena's slowly stroking her hand up Abby's arm, and all that soft, wet, open-mouthed kissing, and both of them are breathing fast, with hard nipples that just barely graze over each other, and then Breena lightly strokes the backs of her knuckles over Abby's breast, and he knows that has to be what made Jimmy choke because an awfully similar sound rips out of him. And Abby pulls her closer, bodies pressed tight together, Breena sitting in her lap, and they just tongue fucked, there's no other term for it, Breena grinding on Abby's leg, as Abby sucks her tongue, and then after a few more seconds of that, they pull back, breathing hard, looking a little glazed, and Abby turns to the camera, winks and blows a kiss at him.

It takes a minute before he has enough control over his hands to turn the video off and hit the text screen.
On your way home?

A minute later he gets back. Yeah, at the stoplight at Tuner.

Just watched the video. Play a game with me tonight?

Always. What kind of game?

Gonna ravish you. His hands are shaking as he texts that, so he has to back up and delete a few times to get it right.

Ooooo!

Oh yeah. You wearing panties?

No.

Skirt?

Of course.

Find a place, stop, put some on. Gonna cut them off you.

I like the sound of this.

I really hope so. You wet?

I thought you said you saw the video. Of course I'm wet!

He groans at that. It wasn't just a show, she liked it, really liked it. Even better. Park so your door is next to the Highlander, say three feet away.

Okay. Mysterious.

This is what the step past gonna fuck you through the wall looks like.

Light's green. Home in 15.



Fifteen minutes. Either this is a really good plan, or it's a really bad one, but Janice did say that it helped if you were already leaning in that direction, and right now, he really is.

He heads up to his room, and finds the little tester bottle of... somehow he hadn't managed to notice the name before, but he does now, Satyr.

Why not?

He opens it up, and God, it reeks. Dirty goats. Dirty goats cats have peed on. Blech. And it's black. The color of old tar. He's hoping, as he puts the tiniest little drop of it he can manage on just one wrist (it leaves a mucky brown stain) that this works out.

He heads to his closet, looking for a belt. He wants everything about tonight to broadcast exactly how turned on he is, wants her to feel the power of it, and slowly stripping off a belt will help with that.

If he had button fly jeans, he'd put them on, too. The image of popping each button, hand moving slowly down the fly, the feel of his dick hard, pressing against the denim, straining to get free, strong in his mind.

He slips his belt through the loops on his jeans, feeling very turned on, very... cocky. And not so much in a can take on any challenge that comes his way sort of way, but in a literal, balls in charge, much more focused on his dick than he usually is, feeling like he's a walking hard-on sort of way.

He's also not smelling like dirty goats or cat pee. No, not those, just very male. Very, very male. He's feeling urgent, and insistent, forceful. He heads back to the vial and adds a bit more, upping the amount to what he usually puts on.

Yeah, very much not dirty goats. Horny as a goat. Randy goats looking to fuck anything that will let him. Wild-goat man with a huge, raging, throbbing erection, grabbing a barely dressed woman, dancing around a bonfire, wearing translucent wisps of fabric that flutter around her as she moves, carrying her off to ravish her under the full moon in some sort of ancient fertility ritual as she screams and begs in ecstasy, ripping her nails down his back as her legs wrap tight around his hips and her pussy quivers and clenches around him in shuddering orgasm after shuddering orgasm, as he plunges into her over and over and over… Yeah, that's definitely going on.

His pants are way too damn tight as he tucks his knife into his pocket, very much looking forward to cutting Abby's panties off and burying himself in her over and over and over as he squeezes his dick through his jeans… and if he doesn't stop that this is going to be done before she shows up.

So he stops, grabs the baby monitor, (Kelly usually sleeps right through, but he'll plug it into the wall socket, so they can hear if she wakes.) and heads outside to wait.



Abby does as directed. There's a gas station on the corner of Patterson and Grove, so she stops there, grabs the bag she had taken to Breena's, and changes into some panties. The idea of having them cut off again, because it's been a long time since they played that game, sending some very happy tingles all through her.
Getting home, she sees the porch light is off, and so are all the house lights. Which means once she turns her headlights off, their front yard, and more importantly the place she parks as per Tim's directions, is awfully dark. Moon's out, so it's not pitch black, but it's not well-lit, either. Probably a good plan, the neighbors don't need to see what's about to happen out here.

Perfect.

If it wasn't staged, it would set her danger sense off. As it is, there's this sense of heightened anticipation. She knows he's going to jump out from somewhere, but not when, not where, and not what (exactly) he's going to do when he does.

She doesn't see him as she pulls in. But it's dark, so she doesn't expect to. She knows that she won't see him until he wants her to.

She's expecting it, or something like it, yet it still takes her by surprise when less than a heartbeat after closing the door to her car he's materialized from somewhere, twists her to face him, and pushes her back against the door of the SUV.

His hands pin hers to the car, holding her wrists flush against cold metal. His legs are between hers, grinding his pelvis, cock, into her.

"Feel it? Feel how hard that video made me?" he says, voice low, hard, almost dangerous, each word feeling like a slow, wet lick over her clit.

"Yes."

He arches into her, grinding what feels like a just on the verge of coming hard-on against her, and she moans.

He lifts her hands over her head, pinning both of them in his right hand, just above her head, and reaches with his left into his pocket.

"Watch." She does, eyes wide, nodding, as he flicks open the blade, puts the knife on the hood of the car, yanks her skirt up, picks the knife up again, and very carefully slips the blade between her hip and the waistband once, twice, slitting it fast on both sides, tossing the knife aside, and pulling what was left of her panties off of her.

She watches him do it and breathes, "Fuck, Tim."

He's staring at her, eyes scalding hot. "Exactly. Keep watching."

He doesn't usually wear belts on the weekend, but he is now. He's taken just enough of a step back so she can watch him undo it.

Her hands pinned, cold winter air on her naked skin, his voice, and the sight of his left hand deliberately yanking off his belt, working the button on his fly, her eyes start to close as another moan slips through her lips.

"Keep your fucking eyes open! I want you to see it." He shoves his pants down around his thighs, pulling his cock out. She can feel it hot and hard against her hip for a second before he guides it into her in one fast, hard, balls-deep thrust that has both of them moaning.

"Fuck, Abby, feel that? Feel how hard it is?" He's grinding into her, rubbing his pelvis into her clit.

"God, yes!" He lets go of her wrists and pulls her up a few inches, wrapping her legs around his hips, thrusting into her relentlessly and making the car shake. "Tim, fuck!"

"Yes. Gonna fuck you so hard you tremble for a week." She's back against the car. He's using it and his weight to keep her up, as his hand settles into her hair, tightening into a fist at the base of her skull, keeping her looking into his eyes. "Gonna pump into you over and over, fill you up with me, and lick it off your quivering thighs when we get in the house." His other hand clenches on her hip, and she's straining against him, trying to get just a little more friction on her clit because she's so close and this is almost enough but not quite there.

"We get in there, you're going upstairs, and I'm going to tie you up, lick you all over, fuck you with the vibrator while I eat you out, and then more… Oh, God… fucking." His thrusting is getting erratic, losing its rhythm and she knows he's almost ready to come. "Gonna do it all night… Over and over… Long, slow fuck, do it until you're flushed and begging, until your legs won't hold you up anymore…" his words slur into a long groan as his body tightens and spasms, finishing off the first round in hard, wet pulses.

After a minute, he's still breathing fast, but let her put her legs down, and pulls back. Then he kisses her, soft and gentle, smiles, and says, "Good start?"

"Fuck yes!"

"Good." He quickly pulls up his pants, buttons them, not caring to redo the belt or zipper, and hoists her over his shoulder, fireman's carry style.

She squeaks in response. "Tim!"

His hand trace over her rear, slipping under her skirt, fingers brushing very lightly against her lips, getting wet with his cum, and slipping a little further back to circle her anus.

"Wasn't kidding, baby. All damn night!"

He planned it out, and left the front door a centimeter open, but none the less, it looks really impressive when he kicks the door open and carries her into their home.



He literally tosses her onto their bed. "Stay put."

She nods, very much enjoying being 'ravished.'

"Get naked." He's rummaging through their toy box looking for the ropes he wants as well as the right vibrator.

Abby quickly strips out of her clothing, tossing it away from the bed.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink? Go to the bathroom?"

She shakes her head.

"Good." He sets the vibrator on his nightstand and then kneels on the bed next to her. "You made me wait an hour and twenty seven minutes between seeing the first picture and slipping into you." He loops the first rope over her wrist, securely knotting it, and pressing gently on her chest to let her know to lie down on her back.

"That's a very long time to want something and not have it." He secures the knot to the bedpost.

She tries to look chagrined at that, but isn't doing a very good job of it. "Were you hard the whole time?"

"Yes. Saw you in those tiny blue panties and teddy and my dick got hard, all I could think about was how you'd feel wrapped around me." He loops the second rope around her left wrist, securing it to the bedpost as well.

"Seventeen minutes between watching that video all the way through and you getting home." He grabs her right ankle, pulling her toward the footboard, just enough force that it feels dangerous, not so much he might risk hurting her, and ties her leg down.

"Seventeen minutes where all I could think about was you and Breena making out. All I could see was your sweet mouth on hers." He grabs the left ankle, forcefully, too, spreading her wide, and tying her down.

He climbs onto their bed, reminding her very strongly of a big predator cat stalking its prey, about to leap. He leans over her, weight on his hands and knees, and gently sniffs along her throat, breasts, and pussy.
He licks her inner thigh. "I can smell me here. And you." He nuzzles his way back up her torso, licking and kissing her belly and breasts. He lays open mouth kisses across her collarbones and up her throat to her ear. "I can smell her, here." He licks her lips. "Taste her on you." Though he can't, not really, but he likes saying it. Likes imaging that he can. Wants to taste Breena on Abby.

She'd been grinding on Abby's leg, so he slides down again, licking and nibbling his way to her left leg, and begins to slowly kiss each inch of her thigh, sucking and ghosting his teeth along her white skin.

He catches a hint of a scent, flavor that isn't Abby and isn't him. He's not entirely sure if it's real or if he's imagining it, but either way, he thinks it's Breena's musk on Abby's skin, and it makes him growl, look up, make sure Abby's watching his eyes and then he gently bites her hip, followed by a long, sucking lick up her thigh, making sure to get every hint of Breena off of her.

He slides back up so he's face to face with Abby, kisses her, hard, tongue thrusting between her lips, reveling in fast, rough friction.

"Makes me feel crazy, tasting her on you, seeing you touch her. Makes me want to fuck you, so bad."

She moans at that, and he kisses her lips, taking her moan, echoing it back to her.

He pulls back a hair, kissing "Makes me so hard knowing her lips were here," to Abby. "Didn't just get off two minutes ago, smelling her on you, tasting her on you, I'd be rutting on your leg and leaking."

"Good." She smiles brightly at him.

He sits back on his heels and begins to slowly undress. He carefully pulls off his jacket, hanging it on the corner of the footboard.

"Tell me how it felt," he says as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. "All of it."

"She's so soft, Tim. Her skin and lips and hair, everything about her is soft or smooth as silk. And she's nursing, so her breasts are so full and ripe. Heavy in my hands, and warm, all of her is so warm."

He groans at those mental images/sensations.

"She was wearing that perfume Jimmy got her, smelling like rich, spicy peaches and vanilla dipped in honey. And she tastes sweet. Not food sweet, but… just sweet. I wanted to push her back on the bed and lick every inch of her."

Tim's jaw clenches and he groans at that, tossing his shirt toward the hamper. He stands up next to bed, popping the button his jeans, as she says, "She's a really good kisser, Tim."

That makes him groan, too, and a second later he's naked, on his hands and knees, leaning over her.
"Show me. Kiss me like she kissed you."

Abby lifts her head up some, so he lays down, so she doesn't have to strain her neck. Her lips find his, stroking gently over him. She doesn't open her mouth as quickly as usual, this is more lips and a bit less tongue than they usually do. She's keeping her touch light, resulting in very sharp, focused, almost but not quite ticklish strokes over his lips.

Eventually she does coax his tongue out, sucking it, soft, plump sucks that flood his mind with images of both Abby and Breena sucking his cock, just the tip, then she sucked a little harder while flicking the tip of her tongue along the tip of his, and he groans again.

"God, baby."

"Yeah! She's gold and pink all over."

He buries his face in Abby's neck, kissing her throat and collar bone.

"Kissing her feels like gold and pink. So femme and so soft and smooth and everything about her is so GIRL."

He shifts his weight to one arm, leaning on his side, kissing her chest, hovering over her breast for a moment, catching her eyes this okay? on his face. She nods.

He begins gently, slowly kissing her breast. He doesn't want to start her milk letdown, so no sucking, but he makes sure to cover every inch with kisses and gentle nibbles. She arches her back, looking for a bit more pressure. Been a long time since they've done this, and they've both missed it.

He takes his time, getting to know her breasts again, noticing that she does need a firmer touch than she did before, but he's a quick study so it doesn't take long to get his technique adjusted.

He reaches for the vibrator, feeling around for it for a few seconds before his hand gets it, then he starts with it on her nipple. He's licking the one, firm, focused touch, lightly buzzing the other.

That gets a pleased squeak out of Abby. And then a somewhat less pleased note as milk rushes out of her nipples. He leans back, smiles, licks her clean, and says, "So, not yet, huh?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet."

"Just have to find something else to lick." And he did. He kisses his way down her chest and abdomen, settling himself between her legs and kissing her properly.

He's not a huge fan of oral with a vibrator. He finds having his tongue buzzing distracting and doesn't much like the noise. So, it doesn't happen a lot. But Abby really likes it, so it does happen.

And he has to admit, he loves the visual of it. Loves watching himself play with her and the vibrator, loves seeing her flush and writhe as he gently strokes it over her skin, starting at her inner thighs and gently working his way closer and closer to where she wants it. He loves the way she arches up as he starts to ease it into her, loves the look of her body taking it in, soft, wet, glistening pink lips spreading wide around the expanse of bright blue plastic.

And more than that, more than all the visuals on earth, he loves bending his head, tasting her, hearing her gasp as he starts to suck her clit (mimicking the sucking and tongue flicking combo she'd kissed him with earlier) while rocking the vibrator in and out in firm, deliberate strokes.

Then there's the way she tries to grind into him. The strain of movement hampered by ties. She wants more, faster, but he's not doing it. He had to wait more than an hour to get off, and she's going to wait, too.

He turns the vibrator off, just using it as a dildo, and licks harder, slower. Barely any friction, just pressing and releasing as she arches against him, trying to get off.

He pulls back, each palm on her inner thighs, and looks up at her. "Frustrating, huh?"

She whimpers. "Please."

"Close your eyes," he says, "I want you to imagine something."

Her eyes close.

"Good girl." He delicately licks over her clit, making sure to keep his tongue pointed so that just his tongue touches her. He's shaved recently, but it's been a few hours, so he's also sure his mouth doesn't feel as soft or smooth as it should for this. "That's Breena, tasting you."

Abby sighs. He licks again, light, just wet tongue on wet clit.

"And she's seeing how sweet and yummy you are. How you're all ivory and pink and ebony." Another slow, dragging lick, and this time he draws the vibrator out before thrusting it back in hard, fast, and sliding it out slow again. "She'll be telling Jimmy about how soft you are, and how everything about you is so amazingly hot. How every curve and angle and flat made her feel all sexy and fluttery." More licking, in time with the vibrator. "She's going to tell him how wet you were, and how slick, and how everything about you just begged to be licked and how she just couldn't help it, she had to tie you down and lick you all over." Firm, hard, fast licks, just a few, just enough to make her tense, thighs quivering looking for release, and then he stops again. "She's going to tell him how she made you come. How you called out her name and screamed from the pleasure of her mouth." Back to slow, easy licks, forcing her back from the edge of getting off. Abby groans at that, she wants to come, now. "Then she's going to climb up you, straddle your face, and you're going to get her off." He stops licking all together and spends a few seconds just sucking her clit, drawing his lips over it, making sure the suction is firm but not bruising. Abby's hips thrash at that, trying to get some more friction to go with suction, but he holds firm, just sucking, and then turns the vibrator on low. "You're going to show her how to lick pussy. Show her every trick your brilliant tongue knows. And she'll be flushed and arching against you, so wet, so sweet, everything about her flushed pink, beautiful gold hair, golden skin, and you'll be burying yourself in her wet, pink pussy." Abby groans at that and what he's doing to her. Licking again, still soft, still slow, but he's angling the vibrator up with each stroke, rubbing it over her g-spot.

Her thighs are growing tight again, stomach pulled in, he doesn't look up, but he can imagine her hands are clenched and arms tight, so he stops breaking the action to talk and keeps licking, gradually increasing his speed and the speed on the vibrator.

She's moaning, no words, just low, deep, sounds of pure need.

He moves faster, keeping his touch firm, but speeding his tongue again, speeding the vibrator again, stroking it all the way in and all the way out as his tongue circles fast and hard. Her hips are jerking, fast, hard, looking for more, so he gives it to her, matching his speed to her, fucking her hard with the vibrator, licking as fast and hard as he can, and she tightens further, not moving for a heartbeat, and then her whole body jerks as she yells, orgasm racing through her.

His face is wet, slick, smells and tastes like sex and Abby, and his dick has certainly woken all the way back up.

Which means it's time for phase three. Or it will be. Giving her some time to catch her breath and relax is a good plan, so he scoots back up, cuddling her, and Abby turns into him, kissing him, soft, gentle, lazy.

She nibbles his lips, sighing lightly, eyes closed, and he very lightly strokes her nipples.

When she opens her eyes, grinning at him, he grins back. She licks his cheek. "I got you all wet."

He wipes his face and grins. "I like to think of it as I got you all wet."

She tries to reach for him, and notices her hands are still tied.

He grins at that, too. "Abigail, you up for more?"

She nods. "You're not trying to get out of your promise are you?"

"Just checking in, making sure we're good."

"I'm good. Hoping I'll be better in a bit."

That gets an evil smile out of him. "Oh, god, baby, trust me, you're going to be so much better."

"Good."

He unties her hands and legs, rubbing her wrists, letting her curl into a little ball and pull everything tight, then stretch herself back out.

"All good?"

"Yeah."

He's on his side, facing her, and pulls her to him. Side by side. Slow sex. Talking sex. Relaxed, easy, kissing, nibbling, her neck pillowed by his arm, her thigh over his hip. Gentle, rocking against one another, slow burn sex.

But eventually slow burn sparks hot, igniting everything around it. Eventually she's on her back and he's on top, moving hard, fast.

His time sense blurs, fades into wet, slick friction, hyper-awareness of the tension in her muscles, her heart-rate, and breathing, he kept easing both to the edge of orgasm, and then pulling back, just to take them higher after the pause.

There's a point where everything starts to unravel. Where the world falls away. Where sex becomes a sort of hypnotic meditation, slick, gliding sensation that shuts everything else out. That's where he loses his intentions, his plans, where his body takes over and brain shuts down, and there's just soaring through quivering pleasure and striving for faster, harder, more sensation. She's moaning, and begging, and maybe crying, and he might have been too, no idea, there's just the need for more, pushing himself and her as far as they can go before tipping over and edge that felt like it ate them alive, leaving both of them collapsed, breathing hard, buzzing all over with sparking nerves and sated bodies.

It takes a long time before either of them wants to move, but eventually Tim pulls away, and both of them get cleaned up and crash back into bed, elated and exhausted.

"Happy Valentines," he murmurs, her hair under his lips.

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

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