Now Can I Shoot?: Tony Dinozzo X Timothy McGee

Patient Timothy, Send Dinozzo

As I stare at the computer; my mind wanders off to McGee. He should be getting out today. I peer at the time, 4:51pm. Almost time for me to get off. I'm so excited to pick him up. I know it's only been a day, but I can't get enough of him.

The automatic doors opening as I approach. The strong smell of silicone gloves, alcohol wipes, and old people fill the hospital. The front desk lady looking at me as I approach her. "May I help you?" She asked. "Yeah, I'm here to take McGee home," I said. "Sure thing. Just need you to sign here and here," she points with her pen. "Alright," I take the clipboard from her hands. "Here ya go," I hand back the clipboard. "Thank you sir, knock before entering please," I nod in reply.

I walk upto room 7 again. Lifting my hand up, I knock loud twice. "Come in," I heard from McGee. I open the door to see McGee folding his hospital gown onto the bed. "You don't need to do that. They have to clean it anyway," I said. McGee turns his head in my direction and his smile widens. "Tony!" He greeted. Before I could say anything, his arms wrap around my arms. I shimmy my arms out of his grip and wrap my arms around him, my embrace making his grip on me tighter. I repeat his actions and give him a slight squeeze. I release my grip from him and pull him away from me, his eyes glistening now that I see his eyes. Staring into his beautiful icy blue eyes and caressing his cheek, my eyes examine every inch of his face. The bruising darkened from the last time I saw him. "Shall we go now?" McGee asked raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, you want something to eat? I'll get ya something," I nudged. "I could eat," he shrugged. "You need to eat," I corrected. "For a hospital, they don't feed you very well," I said. "They're not cooks Tony," he retorted. "I know," I laugh. "Where do you wanna eat?" Resting my arm over his shoulder. "I'm up for anything," he shrugged. "Alright," I started. "How does fast food sound?" I ask. "Sounds perfect," his smile expanding.

"Here's your food sir. Have a nice day," she greeted. Watching her, she looks over my shoulder to look at McGee. Her face seemed to be in focus on his bruises. I can't help but frown about how McGee feels right now. "Thank you m'am," grabbing the food and handing it over to McGee. As I pull out of the drive thru, I glance at McGee, his head down and he starts stroking his hands. I'm not very good at reading body language, but I know something's wrong. I place my hand on his knee. From the corner of my eye, I can see he stopped caressing his hand. "You okay?" I look at him every now and then. "Yeah," his head remaining down. "When we get to your apartment, I want you to ice your face. Otherwise the swelling won't heal," removing my hand from his leg, I stare at him while the light remains red. "Thanks for helping through all this?" He looked at me. "Anything for my McProbie," I joke. I hear McGee give a little chuckle.

We walk through the unit, the instant smell of bleach and urine fill the air. I wince at the horrid smell. I turn to look at McGee, he crinkles his nose at the smell. He takes a step in, but he trips over the metal door base. Before I could think of what to do, my body springs into action. Next thing I know, he's in my arms. "You okay Tim?" I position him up right. McGee holding my hand with his other, wounded hand resting on the wall. "That fall hurt my wrist, but other than that, I'm fine," he stated. "Here," I walk him over to the couch. "Don't want you making another trip to Doc Oc," his hand still holding mine, I place him gently onto the couch. His grip, not loosening. "McGee?" I start. His eyes remained staring at the floor. "McGee!?" My tone louder. "Huh, what?" He looked up at me, his eyes shimmering. "What's going on? Are you sure you're okay?" My hand holding his hand again. "I..." he started. "I guess I still think of being down in that cold basement, with that loon," he began to start petting his hand again. I place my hand on top of his other hand, "you're safe now," staring into his eyes. "As long as you're with me, no one will ever hurt you again," I give his hand a slight squeeze. "Thanks Tony," he stared at me with tears threatening to fall. I pull him into a hug, his body going dead weight as I hold him. "How about I move the stuff into my car and you eat some food and get some rest?" I suggest. "I am hungry," he said. "Eat up McDonald," I point. McGee chuckles and smiles down at the floor, "thanks Tony," he said again. "No problem hun," before I turn, I spot McGee, blush. Gets him every time.

"You should eat your food before it gets cold," McGee started. "Yeah," placing my hands on my hips, I look at the box I finished up packing. "Now's a good time to eat," I walk back to the living room. As I head toward the couch, I stop myself and head into the kitchen. "What're you doing?" McGee asked. I say nothing and return into the living room. "Here, put this on your face," I hand him an ice pack. "Thanks," he placed the pack on his cheek. We sit there in silence; comfortable silence.

As I pack the last box—I peer at the time: 12:17am. That's late. "Hey Tim?!" I ask. "Yeah," he said distantly. "Why don't we sleep here for tonight?" I asked. "Yeah, suppose we should," he replied.

We both hop into bed together, his eyes peering at mine as we both drift off. "Goodnight Babe," kissing his forehead goodnight. "Goodnight Tony," his eyes closing slowly.

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the sun directly in my face. "Damn blinds!" I get up to shut the blinds. With the blinds closed, I peer at my watch I left on my wrist, 6:57am. Well I'm awake now, guess I'll make us some breakfast. The smell of bleach still crammed the room. I open the windows to help air out the room while I cook.

Getting out the cilantro, I place a leaf onto each plate as garnish. "Perfect," I say to myself. "Now, to wake sleeping mcbeauty," I slowly open the door, careful not to wake him. I sit on McGee's side, he hasn't awakened yet. I lean in closer and begin slightly shaking him awake. With a jolt—Tim shot up and punched me in the neck, as if to stab me. Fighting to restrain his arms and hands as he repeatedly hits me in the neck. "Tim! Tim! It's me!" I scream to get his attention. His dilated pupils begin to constrict. "What?" He asked. "You're safe!" Me Holding his shoulders, I start stroking his arms. "It was just a nightmare," His eyes only focusing on mine. "I wish it was Tony," tears filling his eyes. I bring his body into mine, I embrace as his body goes limp. "Come on, I made some breakfast," hoping to make him feel better. "Thanks," he simply said. As McGee goes to fetch his plate, I stay behind and check myself in the bathroom. My neck burning and throbbing in pain.

Examining my neck in the mirror, I instantly see purple forming around my neck, as well as swelling. "He got me good," I chuckle, feeling my neck. I head into the kitchen and see McGee with his hands under the table. "Is everything alright?" Placing a hand onto his. "I guess, I still think about being in that basement," he started. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I ask. "I suppose I should, otherwise I won't get better," he said. "You don't have to if you don't want to," I interrupt. I feel McGee flip his hand over and begin to hold my hand in his. I give his hand a squeeze in response. "I dreamt that I was," he hesitated. "In his basement again," McGee looking down at his hands. I continue to stare into his eyes. "Pretending to close my eyes as he approached me," his voice now starting to shake. "As soon as he got close enough, I stabbed him," his eyes glistening and his voice shaky. "When I woke up, you were there, and not him," he finished. "You'll get through this," my eyes never leaving his. "We'll get through this," holding both his hands, his hands, cold to the touch. Stroking his hands with my thumbs. "Thanks Tony," wiping his tears from his face. "I'll never let anything happen to you," my eyes focusing on McGee. "The team won't let anything happen to you," I add. McGee looks up at me, a small smile resides on his face. His eyes lingering downward. "I'm sorry about your neck," he chuckled a little. "Oh my neck? Yeah I'll be fine," I shrug. "Let me get some ice for that," he said heading toward the refrigerator. "You should be using that for your face," my tone growing concerned. "My face isn't burning or sore, meanwhile your neck needs attention," his tone going towards authority. "Just like me," smirking at my own amusement. McGee laughs. Every laugh of his fills me with laughing butterflies. As long as he's happy. I'm happy. Tim holds the ice pack to my neck, the cold causing me to flinch. "Our food's probably cold," I look down at the food. "Keep that to your neck and I'll heat up the food," McGee took his plate and placed it into the microwave. McGee caring for me, it's nice. I forgot what it was like when someone cared for me.

"Alright, that's everything," closing the trunk, I stare at McGee. The sun beginning to give McGee back his natural glow. "Ready to go home?" I smile at McGee. "Yeah," he simply said. Holding the passenger door open, he hops in, shutting the door behind him. When McGee has a clear enough head, we'll get his car and the rest of his stuff. But we'll start slow.