Now Can I Shoot?: Tony Dinozzo X Timothy McGee

Let's try this again

"Was the bar overwhelming or did your recollections affect you?" He asked. Dr. Tebara's gaze almost burned through me. The question wavered in my head. "Tim?" he asked. I held my elbows, playing with the fabric of my shirt. "Tim?" he asked again, softly. "I was..." I hesitated. "It's like I was there again...in the basement," the air filling my lungs felt like fire, every breath of air I exhaled felt stifled. I breathed slowly before speaking. "I was doing my business in the bathroom stall, then I heard the bathroom door swing open and large footsteps brash toward me," picking at the skin of my palm. "What happened next?" he asked. I didn't realize that I stopped. My heartbeat rang in my ears. My breathing, getting rapid by the minute. "Take a slow, steady breath," he breathed. Mimicking his actions, breathing in as slowly as possible. My voice is shaky as I release. "Now, Go through the details slowly," he said softly. "His footsteps came closer as I remained in the stall," I began. Looking at the Dr, he continued writing and nodded along. Releasing a breath, "I felt like it was him and he was going to break the door down," a subtle whimper escaped. "Was it him?" he engendered. "No," I simply said. "Precisely—whenever you think it's him, tell yourself 'it's not,'" he said. "I wish it were that easy," my tone bleaked. "It will take some time, but you'll get through this," he sympathized.

Tony:

Typing the documentation into the database; my mind wanders. The image of Tim curled up in the stall replayed in my head. I put my fist to my lips, slightly biting on the tip of my knuckle. My heart was racing, my thoughts on Timmy. "Dinozzo," Gibbs shouted. I jerked at his voice. "Yes, Boss," I ask. "Need those documents by the end of the day," Gibbs said. "Will do," I salute. As I salute—I catch a glimpse of my hand. I ripped the skin off my knuckle, blood bubbles to the surface. I run over to Tim's desk, Taking a couple of tissues from McGee's desk, I hold the cool, lotioned tissue against my wound. Taking a seat back at my own desk. "Run out of wanky hankies?" Ziva smirked. "No," I started. "I just love the way it feels on my skin," I retorted. "You wanna take my make-up so you look nice," she chuckled. I peered my head over the computer to meet her gaze. "Is that a challenge?" I raise an eyebrow. "I think you'd look gorgeous," Ziva gestured. "You mean more gorgeous?" I flaunt. Ziva rolled her eyes and chuckled. "What happened to your hand?" she asked. Her eyes never left my hand. "Oh, this?" I started. "Got it this morning when I got here. Smacked it against the underneath of my desk," I lied. She gave an eyebrow and looked back down at my hand. "Usually, you make a deal about it," Her skepticism grew. "I was cussing up a storm out here before you walked in," I said. "Tony," she began. "Yeah," I swallowed. "You're terrible at lying," she smirked. "What's really going on?" she asked, her expression more empathetic. I breathed. "I guess I'm just nervous about Tim," I simply said. "Tim's a tough guy, he'll do just fine," her tone getting softer. I reply with a short smile. Looking back at my hand—I release the tissue to unveil pieces of tissue sticking from the wound. "I forgot about that," I hissed. "What? What happened?" Ziva cut in. "Probably should've put bacitracin on it," I shout as I speed-walk to the bathroom. I hover my hand under the sink— Lukewarm water making direct contact, stung like hell. Drying my hands off, I dab the wound gently so as not to cause bleeding again. It's more pink than crimson red. "Perfect," I say to myself. As I leave—I nearly bump into someone. "Sorry," I started. Looking back at the person, McGee looks up, startled. "Oh hey, Tim. How was it?" I asked. "It was alright," he blankly let out. "Okay, just let me know if ya need anything, McGoo," I quipped. Tim let out a chuckle in response. "See you at home, Tony," he began to walk away. "Love you," I shouted slightly. I see his face as he rounds the corner, he reddened. "Yes," I laughed to myself.

I take out my keys—as I try to locate the unit key. I drop the keys at my feet, "Gah?" I open the door, I hear commotion on the TV. "Thank God he's home." Tim turned the television off and turned to me. "I was thinking of going out tonight," he proposed. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask. "We didn't exactly enjoy our last Courted outing," I stated. "Where do you wanna go?" I ask. "How about we eat?" he asked. "Fancy Nancy or Fast Food Jude?" I asked. "How about Evilo Garden?" he asked. "I'll get dressed," I respond.