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You're My Probie
by: CJ aka WritinginCt (Send Feedback)
Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 006 Word Count: 14698
Character(s): Tony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee
Category(ies): First Time, Humor, Romance
Summary: Tony's always had nicknames for McGee. What's so different about this one? Tony/McGee - romance, h/c, humor, and borders on Crack!fic Co-written with smackalicious on the NFA
Author Notes: This is a fic bordering on the realm of the weird - not quite Crack!fic but close. I am co-writing this with Smackalicious on the NFA board. She's writing McGee, I'm writing Tony. The first couple of chapters are fairly tame - the smut is on its way. ~Enjoy!
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Title: You're My Probie
Author: CJ aka WritinginCT & Smackalicious
Categories: First Time, Humor
Feedback: Love it? Hate it?
Disclaimer: I don’t own the recognizable characters; I’m just inspired by them. Hopefully they’ve had fun playing in my sandbox.
Summary: Tony's always had nicknames for McGee. What's so different about this one?
Status: In-progress. We're currently working on it. We'll get more to you as it appears in our PM boxes. :)
A cold icy day in January in the Washington, D.C. area was not particularly conducive to agents enjoying driving two hours to follow up on a lead that was a bust. Especially when the weather reports were predicting a nor'easterner to blow through and dump a foot and a half of snow during their return trip home.
Tony glanced over at his companion in the passenger seat, secretly glad that if he had to be stuck driving at a snail’s pace in a blizzard, at least he had the one member of the team with him he found himself most wanting to spend time with lately – McGee.
In the years he had known McGee, he had watched the guy go from being a bumbling newbie to becoming someone Tony trusted and relied on, and he was much more self-confident and comfortable in his own skin than he had ever been. In the months that Gibbs had been in Mexico and Tony had run the team, he had come to respect, depend on, and even admire McGee. And more recently he had just, well, been really aware
of Tim. And that was something he hadn't let happen in a very long time. Tony normally kept those particular thoughts and urges under lock and key, but every once in awhile they would sneak out on him when he met a guy that he was particularly attracted to. Lately he had had such a hard time keeping those thoughts and urges buttoned up in the closet in his mind whenever he was around Timothy. And he was always Timothy in Tony's little fantasies, not Tim or McGee, and never Probie. If he didn't do something about them soon, he was going to end up doing something really stupid, like, say, kissing Timothy in the middle of bullpen or something equally idiotic.
McGee was fiddling with his PDA, rechecking the new directions they had gotten. The main highway was closed due to an enormous accident, so they had taken some back roads hoping to avoid the traffic and beat the storm home; driving into it wouldn't be any fun.
"We still on track, Probie?" Tony asked lightly.
McGee furrowed his brow at the device in his hand. "I don't know. We seem to be a bit off the beaten path." He looked up at Tony, frowning. "Literally."
Leave it up to Tony to get them lost in the middle of a snowstorm. But if there was one person McGee wanted to be stuck with, he was glad it was Tony. As much as the older agent ragged on him, he knew it was all in good fun, and hell, Tony wasn't nearly as dangerous as Ziva or Gibbs, so the chances of him making it out of the storm alive were even better.
McGee realized he had been staring at Tony the entire course of his thoughts and quickly turned back to his PDA, blushing. Damn. Tony sure had a way of distracting him. He was never quite sure what it was, either - his playboy smile, the smooth way he talked, or just how tight those pants from the other day fit him . . .
McGee shook his head free of the errant thought and scowled to himself. This was Tony. Sure, he wanted him, but he knew how stubborn the man was. Tony would want to be in charge, and McGee wanted no part in that.
He looked back over to the object of his thoughts. He needed to say something else before Tony asked him what he was thinking about.
"You do realize we're not even on a road right now, right?"
"Gimme that thing," Tony groused, and snatched at the PDA in McGee's hand. "How can we not be on a road? I'm driving here, Probie."
"Tony," McGee groaned, reaching to grab his prized assistant from Tony's grasp, and ending up with his hand on Tony's crotch instead. He blushed, quickly removing his hand from the other man's lap, while Tony smirked. "I think I know how to read my own PDA."
Tony glanced down at his crotch, then over to McGee, and quipped, "I'm pretty sure that would be considered red-light behavior if we were at the office." When McGee just pursed his lips and grimaced in embarassment, Tony added with a little suggestive wag of his eyebrow, "Guess it's a good thing we're not at the office, huh, Probie?"
McGee rolled his eyes, turning his gaze outside to the falling snow. "You know, Tony, this is the precise reason I hate driving with you."
"What's that supposed to mean? You'd rather drive with Gibbs, Probie?"
McGee looked back over to Tony. "What? No. No, I wouldn't rather drive with Gibbs. I mean, if it were a choice between his driving and Ziva's, sure, but . . ."
"But you still hate driving with me. Any particular reason, Probie?" The snow was really starting to come down and the wipers were battling unsuccessfully to keep up with it, while the dim light of the headlights barely showed them two car lengths ahead on the narrow road.
McGee gave a concerned look to the road ahead and answered Tony offhandedly. There were more important things to be doing than arguing with Tony about something as stupid as who he preferred to be driving with. "No, Tony, I don't hate driving with you. I just . . . You're always so degrading to me, Tony. Do you really think I'm just going to put up with it?"
For some reason that annoyed Tony. He knew he teased and hazed McGee unmercifully but degrade him? Not. The teasing and locker room mentality actions were the only way Tony could show McGee any affection at all without simply pinning him to a wall and sucking his tonsils out, which he just couldn't do for obvious reasons. "You're my Probie. I'm supposed to torment you. Someday you'll have your own probie to torment. But I don't degrade you, Timothy. Far from it, actually."
Tony's eyes flew open wide when he heard himself call him Timothy outloud. He gulped nervously and wondered if the irritated man next to him had even noticed.
McGee continued to sulk in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler. He was just so goddamn mad that he, the responsible one, had gotten stuck with Tony. He should be the one driving, anyway. They never would have gotten in this mess to begin with if he had been . . .
Wait. Tony didn't degrade him. "Far from it," he had said. What did that mean?
And then there was that other thing.
McGee uncrossed his arms and gave Tony a sidelong look. "Did you just call me Timothy?"
Tony decided to ignore the question and deflect. "Wow, it's really coming down out there, can barely make out the road. Think we'll be back in time to catch the game?"
McGee turned fully to face Tony now. "I'm not going to any game until you answer me. Why'd you call me by my full name, Tony? I thought I was 'your Probie.'"
The wheels where spinning in Tony's mind, trying to figure a way to weasel his way out of the mess he had just mired himself in, knowing full well that McGee was not going to just drop the matter gracefully. "It is one of your names, isn't it? Right along with Elf Lord and Thom."
Unfortunately, the wheels in Tony's head weren't the only ones spinning, as the car violently fishtailed over a large patch of ice and snow. Tony's quick reflexes kept the car on the narrow road, but it was clear the driving was getting even more treacherous.
"Whoa!" McGee exclaimed softly, throwing his hands out to brace himself on the dashboard. "Maybe we should just focus on getting out of here first, and then we can argue."
He really was curious about why Tony had called him Timothy, and for some reason, Tony's explanation of it "just being one of his names" didn't gel with him. There was something hinky going on with Tony and he wanted to find out what it was, but he wasn't willing to die for it.
He looked to the older agent and saw a flash of something in his eyes - relief, perhaps. He shook his head slightly. They'd deal with this later.
Keeping his eyes on the road, Tony swallowed hard, thankful McGee had decided to drop his line of inquiry. "Yeah. What's that thing say? Are we close to any of the main roads? They've got to be better than this one. We gotta stop for a minute and clean off the wipers and the windshield. I can barely see."
McGee nodded abruptly. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. It's coming down pretty hard out there." He was glad Tony had suggested stopping; now maybe he could take over driving while Tony cleaned off the windshield.
They were another twenty miles from the next major roadway, and neither man was looking forward to twenty more miles of narrow, blizzard encrusted back roads, but there was nothing they could do. Instead of pulling the car over - there really was no point on the empty road - Tony just carefully brought the car to a gentle stop. He looked outside distastefully and turned to McGee. "Well, the quicker we get the windows and the wipers cleaned off, the quicker we're back in here where it's warm."
McGee nodded and they both climbed out and started clearing off the snow and ice. They worked simultaneously on the front window and wipers and when they finished, Tim started on the iced over headlights while Tony went to take care of the rear window. The wind was howling and the icy snow coming down was pelting them from all directions. Tony cleared off the driver's side portion of the rear window and was making his way to the other side when his foot hit a patch of ice under the snow and his leg twisted obscenely, torturing his bad knee. With a shout of pain, he hit the ground, holding his screaming leg.
McGee's head shot up from his position at the front of the car. "Tony?" he called out, worried that the older agent wouldn't respond. He couldn't see him; the snow was falling too heavily and gusting in his face.
He bit his lip. He knew he had to get around the car to help Tony, but he didn't want to risk hurting himself. Plus, there was the whole thing of Tony being injured. He hated seeing Tony in pain. Because, for as much as Tony hassled him, McGee cared about him and didn't want to see him hurt.
He let out a sigh and traversed the side of the car, holding on to the vehicle to insure safe travel, and began the search for Tony, when his foot hit something.
His voice was no more than a frightened whisper when it finally came out. "Tony?"
"Down here, Probie," Tony hissed through clenched teeth. "I slipped and blew my freakin' knee out again. Looks like you're driving."
McGee let out the breath he had been holding. “Well, at least you’re not dead.” He gave a nervous chuckle.
He offered Tony a hand up, who just had to quip, "Lucky for you; do you know how much paperwork that would mean, Probie?" McGee's hold on him was strong and confident, and he felt oddly secure in the feeling that McGee wouldn't let him fall on his ass. The two men did a sort of hop-shuffle to the passenger door and McGee helped him get situated inside with a groan and a curse or two from Tony’s end, neither aimed at Timothy.
McGee shut the door gently on Tony and took his time walking back around the car. At least he'd get to drive now. He tried to take comfort in the fact that he could possibly navigate them out of this storm with his PDA handy, but that knowledge didn't lessen his worry any. Tony was hurt, so if something happened where they'd get stuck, he'd be the only one able to get them out.
He sighed and opened the driver's door, his decision made. Plopping into the seat, he shut the door and turned to Tony. "How about we just wait the storm out?"
The pain was plainly evident on Tony's face, but he tried to humor his way through it. "Are you kidding? If we stay here they won't find us till spring." He clapped Timothy on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze of support and said seriously, "I have faith in you, McGee; it's only twenty miles till the main road." He reached down and pushed the seat as far back as it would go to give his leg room to stretch straight out. The agony that shot through his knee made him close his eyes and beat his head on the headrest.
McGee frowned to himself. Tony was making things difficult - as usual - and he really didn't want to drive in this weather. But it was either that or, like Tony said, wait for their bodies to freeze to death if they hung around here.
He sighed, turning on the ignition. "You win. But if we get lost again, it's your fault."
Tony kept his eyes closed but teased, "Yeah, well, I guess then in ten thousand years, the aliens from Spielberg's A.I. will chip us out of the ice. You're as cute as that kid - maybe they'll fix it so you can tell Gibbs how we managed to die in a snowbank, Probie."
McGee shook his head. Leave it up to Tony to bring a movie reference into the mix. He wouldn't be Tony if he didn't. He smiled despite himself. "Gibbs would be alive in ten thousand years, too. He's too stubborn to die." He laughed a bit, but all he could think was, Did Tony just say I was cute?
He shook the thought from his head. Later. They'd figure things out later.
Tony chuckled. "It's all the coffee. It'll keep him well-preserved. Onward, Probie, let's get home so I can weasel some good painkillers out of Ducky."
He put his head back on the headrest and hoped McGee didn't see how much he was gritting his teeth. Partly because of the pain, partly because he needed to keep his mouth shut and not let anything else stupid slip out. He couldn't believe he called Timothy cute to his face.
McGee pressed down on the gas pedal, gently guiding the car through the mounds of snow. It was going well - slow, but well - until he realized . . .
"Oh, shit," he muttered, causing Tony to rise slightly in his seat. He looked over at the other man, swallowing hard. "I can't see where we're going."
Tony opened his eyes and quickly yelled, "TREE! Hard left, NOW!"
McGee tried to swerve the car back on the road but the slick conditions exagerated his adjustment. The car, acting like it had a mind all its own, made its way all the way over to the left side of the road, where it slid quickly down the six food ditch to come to a stop at the bottom. When the wild ride was over and Tony could breathe again, he demanded in concern, "Are you okay?"
McGee let out a shaky breath and nodded slightly. "I think so." He gave Tony a concerned look. "Are you?"
"Yeah. But I don't think we're getting the car out of here on our own." He pulled out his cell and went to dial. "Dammit, no signal. You getting anything?"
McGee took out his own phone. "Nope." He sighed. "Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for awhile."
Tony scrubbed his face with his hands. It was going to be a long night. He cast a sideways glance at the driver's seat and caught something on McGee's face, like embarrassment or something. Was McGee expecting him to harass him about the accident? He felt bad for a moment; the situation was not Timothy's fault and he hated to see him blame himself like that. He turned to face him and said softly, "It's not your fault, you know."
McGee looked up from where he had been studying his lap upon hearing Tony's words. Tony was being . . . nice. And sure, Tony could be nice, but the accident . . . He should have seen that tree. He let out a sigh. "That's really nice of you, Tony, but I should have been able to see that tree and . . ."
"Give it up, Probie. It's a blizzard. Coulda happened to anyone. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will come along." Or not, Tony thought, and we'll just have to huddle together for warmth. He butted his head against the headrest again, trying to dispel that line of thinking from his brain. But he flashed briefly instead on the thought that maybe this was the perfect opportunity to have the
talk with Timothy. Maybe it was time to just lay it all on the line while they were stuck in the car together with no one breathing down their necks, nowhere they had to be, and nowhere they could
McGee didn't say anything, just studied Tony in silence. They were stuck out here. He didn't care what Tony said - they were stuck. And he, well, he was scared. He really didn't want to die. Gibbs knew the general proximity of where they were, but who knows how long it would take him to find their exact location. By that time, it could be too late.
"Tony," he said softly, causing him to turn his head toward him. "What are we going to do?"
Tony got a worried look on his face upon hearing the little catch in McGee's voice and said softly, "Hey, we'll be alright. We loaded up with junk food when we got gas, and this storm's not gonna last forever. When we don't check in, Gibbs'll have Abby find our GPS and they'll send the cavalry for us. We're at best stuck here until morning. And right now I'm gonna take about four ibuprofen from my stash in my kit and hope it takes the edge off my knee." He wanted to try and make Timothy smile, or at least smirk, so he pulled out one of his best comical voices and teased, "Now turn that frown upside down. You could be stuck here with Gibbs."
McGee smirked. "Yeah, and then I know I'd be dead." He allowed a brief smile to pass over his face. He chanced reaching over and patting Tony's shoulder - an action he wouldn't normally do, but considering the circumstances . . . it seemed appropriate. "You know, Tony, I think we'll be okay."
"That's the spirit, Timothy," Tony said, as he reached up and gave the hand on his shoulder a little squeeze. Feeling McGee tense under his hand, he quickly made a show of grabbing his knapsack out of the backseat and fishing through it for his ibuprofen. But his hand tingled where he had touched Timothy - there had almost been an electric current passed between them in that too brief moment.
McGee turned to the window, allowing his breath to steam the windows. Tony had called him Timothy again. He wasn't ignorant enough or distracted enough to miss that. And then there was that feeling, that niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach, from when Tony had grasped his hand . . . What did it mean?
He gulped and turned to face Tony again, who had found his ibuprofen and was currently lounging against the car seat once more, eyes closed. He needed to put a stop to this. It might make things awkward for however long they were stuck out there, but then again, it was a rare occasion when he didn't feel awkward, so he wasn't losing too much. He swallowed again and opened his mouth to speak.
"Tony - do you like me?"
Tony kept his eyes closed and his face stony, giving away nothing. In reality, all he wanted to do was launch himself at Timothy and let his tongue show Timothy just how
much he liked him. It was do or die time. "Well, let's see, Timothy, there are many way to like someone. If you mean do I like you as a co-worker, then yes, we have our moments of disagreement, but overall the co-worker thing is good. If you mean like you as a buddy, someone to have a beer with and watch a game, then yes, we're good on that score, too. But if you mean like you as someone I want to wine and dine and make love with and wake up to for the next fifty years, then no, we're not good." He heard Timothy's sharp intake of breath and he very slowly and deliberately turned to face him, his eyes locking with Timothy's as he continued. "Because although I want that so badly it hurts to think about it, it's a moot point since you don't like me
that way, Timothy."
McGee just about passed out, that was how much he wasn't expecting that. His thoughts, any words he wanted to say, the verbose declaration of want and need, they were all stuck in the base of his throat, and what came out was a simple, "But Tony . . . I do . . ."
Tony's heart was beating so fast he would swear that he could feel it slamming into his ribs, his poor brain trying to process everything. He reached over and placed his hand on Timothy's cheek and ran his thumb gently over his bottom lip. He squinted at Timothy in a classic DiNozzo expression and asked hesitantly, "You do?”
McGee grinned broadly. This was starting to feel like a teenage crush, some pubescent fantasy . . . But it was real. Tony wanted him. And he could have him. He placed a hand over the hand currently caressing his face. "I do."
Tony leaned in close enough for them to share breath, his eyes never leaving Timothy’s, and teased, "So how about some more red-light behavior, then?" right before he kissed him. His firm lips met McGee's and he poured all his expertise into it. He slipped his hand around Timothy's nape to pull him closer and Tony was practically purring when he felt Timothy's lips part, giving him entrance to something he had been fantasizing about for so long. There were little whimpers echoing through the car and it was impossible to determine which man made them. Their tongues battled and they learned the taste of each other, and when they finally broke for air with their foreheads resting together and their eyes closed, Tony just whispered, "Wow."
"Yeah. Wow." McGee allowed his eyes to flicker open, to take in Tony's glorious face. He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed or awkward or . . . something. "Tony?" The older man opened his eyes and met his gaze. "I really really want to do that again."
A smile - the likes of which McGee had never seen - crossed Tony's face, and he teased, "I think I can arrange that." Tony's body was still reeling from the first kiss - he had never, in his entire life, had a first kiss like that. It had just been . . . perfect. And he wondered, as his lips found Timothy's, if they were just going to get better. A few oxygen deprived minutes later, he had his answer, in the affirmative. His body was practically vibrating with wanting to jump Timothy, but the particular situation they found themselves in was not
one of Tony's fantasy scenarios.
As he tried to calm his breathing and his body, he said a little breathlessly, "As good as that is, I think we better, um, cool off a minute. Cause the first time we go any further than this, it's not gonna be in the front seat of a car stuck in blizzard. It's gonna involve dinner, a bottle of wine, and the twelve-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets on my king sized bed."
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
MTAC - NCIS Fic