Timothy McGee Imagines

Inspiration

McGee's POV

We rarely get three-day weekends, so when we do, I use that time to get a jump on my writing. Which is what I was doing this weekend, however, it's not working.

I tore the sheet of paper out of my typewriter and shredded it. I was trying to write my second book, but no new ideas were coming to me.

I let out a slight sigh of relief when someone knocked on my door. My heart jumped into my throat when I looked through my peephole.

"Y/N?" I said her name before opening the door. My stomach flipped when I saw her on my doorstep smiling at me. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a three-day weekend," she shrugged. "I knew you'd be writing and I knew you'd forget to eat."

I laughed as she walked by me and headed into the kitchen. When I walked in, she was pulling the food out of the bag and putting it on the table.

"How'd you know?" I asked as I leaned against the fridge.

"Are you kidding?" She scoffed, not looking at me. "Tim, I've known you since we were six. When you get focused on writing, you get a little too focused."

"Meaning?" I asked as I grabbed two beers from the fridge and placed them on the table.

"Meaning I know when you get focused, you completely forget to eat, bathe, change your clothes," she listed off. "I'm surprised you remember to breathe. Don't you remember senior year? You were working on your MIT application and forgot to eat for two days. I came over and you were barely conscious."

"You didn't leave for a week after that," I smiled.

"You scared me," she mumbled. She cleared her throat before adding, "I didn't want to risk it happening again."

She looked up at me with soft eyes - the eyes that always made me melt.

"What'd you bring us?"

* * * * *

Y/N and I spent two hours eating and talking. I completely forgot about my book as Y/N leaned her head on my shoulder and was barely able to stay awake during the movie. Without moving too much, I grabbed the blanket from off the couch behind us and draped it over her. Suddenly, it was thrown across the room.

"Is this your new book?" Y/N squealed as she jumped up and ran to my typewriter. I instantly followed her.

"Please don't read it." I tore it out of her hand and we played Keep-Away for a little while. "I'm serious, Y/N. It's not done."

"Oh come on," Y/N sighed. "I'm your best friend. You let me read your first book before you sent it off to all those publishers."

"That was after I finished it."

Y/N stopped when she saw something on my face. She let go of the pages, but I tossed it onto my desk before she could apologize.

"Is something wrong?" She asked gently.

"I'm fine," I cleared my throat. She grabbed my arm and made me look at her.

Damn it, I thought to myself. That look always gets to me.

"Tim," she whispered. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I'm stuck," I admitted.

"With your book?" She asked. I nodded making her send me her puppy-eyes. She grabbed my hand and led me over to my couch. Once we sat down, she scooted closer to me.

"Talk to me."

"It's just a stupid block," I shrugged. "It'll go away eventually."

"I know," she nodded, "but talk it out with me. Tell me what's happened so far in your book and maybe it'll help you figure it out."

Y/N sat back as I went through the first half of my new book with her. The more she nodded and the more questions she asked, the weirder I felt. For the first time all weekend, talking to Y/N helped me relax.

Talking to Y/N always felt. . . different.

"I think," she hesitated to voice her thoughts.

When she didn't continue, I gently pushed, "What?"

"I don't want you feeling like I'm telling you how to write your story," she started to ramble. "I mean, you're the writer, not me. So it's probably stupid and not nearly as good as what you could come up with. I should probably just stop talking because. . ."

"Y/N," I gently cut her off. "You are the only critic I listen to so, let me have it."

"There's nothing wrong with what you've already written," she said quickly. "I especially like how you're focusing more on McGregor."

"My publisher pushed for it," I shrugged. "She says people like him better than some of the other characters."

"I agree," Y/N smiled at me. Her smile slightly changed as she added, "But I was thinking that you could add. . . Something."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Your love interest."

Tension thickened between us. Y/N's eyes widened as she clarified, "I mean Agent McGregor's love interest. I know you already got rid of that being Amy but what if you introduced someone new?"

"New?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, her cheeks turning a slight pink. "There's nothing wrong with introducing a new character. Plus, this love interest could help him disconnect from his work."

"I like that."

"I guess," she quickly continued, "that means you need new inspiration, right? That's how you work. You meet someone and they influence your character. So, you need to go out, meet a woman, and poof! You have your inspiration."

Y/N gasped as I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. I was about to break the kiss but she started kissing me back. Things were slow and soft. I broke the kiss and leaned back, looking directly into her eyes.

"I don't need to go out and meet a new woman to get inspiration," I whispered. "Turns out, I've had it all along."

"You are such a cheeseball, Thom E. Gemcity," she teased.

"Only for you, my inspiration," I teased back. "Only for you."