Chapter five

Tim is in the kitchen making coffee when Tony wakes up, padding on bare feet, looking rather frozen in his shirt and the gray sweats he hasn’t changed out of since Tim first arrived. Tim is overcome with the need to protect and take care of and he walks past Tony into the living room and grabs a blanket, which he hands to Tony on his way back.

Tony gives him a look Tim can’t decipher and wraps it around himself.

“So, uh,” Tim says finally, when the silence is too much to bear.

“Yeah.”

Tim glances nervously at Tony. There is a whole host of things he wants to say, and another of things he should say. They aren’t necessarily the same things.

“Um—do you want some coffee?” Tim asks, when the pot is done.

“Definitely.” There is something in his voice that tells Tim that he’s just as nervous. Tim just can’t figure out if his nervousness is because he likes what happened before, or if it is because he doesn’t.

Tony’s fingers ghost over Tim’s as he takes the cup.

“There’s a muffin too,” Tim says. “From Starbucks. I—uh, we didn’t eat it. Before. You know, when—well, you know.”

“I know.”

Tony’s words are quiet. Both his hands are wrapped around the cup of coffee and Tim gets the feeling, just by taking in Tony’s appearance, that he’s still running a fever. He looks cold, the slump of his shoulders signaling exhaustion, despite just getting out of bed.

Wordlessly, Tim heads into the living room instead, sitting down on the couch. Tony follows and sits down next to him. He pulls the blanket tighter. Tony is a big guy, but sunken back into the blanket, he doesn’t look it. Tim’s heart aches; this shadow of a man isn’t the one he is in love with. Because really, that’s what he is, if he’s honest with himself – it just took Tony nearly dying for him to realize as much.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, tone as quiet as Tony’s.

Tony regards him. “No.”

“Then—uh,” Tim says, because vocalizing his feelings has never been his strong suit. “Okay.”

Tony sips his coffee slowly. He closes his eyes and Tim’s not certain whether it is because he’s thinking, or if he’s falling asleep again. He stops himself from reaching over and taking the cup from Tony; he hopes Tony’s aware enough not to fall asleep and spill all over himself.

“I don’t get you, Probie,” Tony says suddenly. His eyes are still closed.

“Uh, I—” Tim says, having no idea how to respond. He thinks he’s a fairly easy guy to understand.

Tony gazes at him, a hint of amusement on his lips. “That wasn’t something that needed an answer.”

“Oh.”

“I’m awful to you,” Tony says, looking away once more. “Just awful. And you’re—here. And you kissed me. And I don’t get that. I don’t get you.”

Tim’s doesn’t know if Tony expects an answer this time and he’s even less sure that there is an answer. He agrees with Tony – Tony is awful to him, most of the time. He delegates every boring chore there is, he plays pranks, he invades Tim’s privacy, he teases him mercilessly – and yet there’s something about him. Something beneath all that – something that Tim’s seen in the last week. There is more to Tony than the lighthearted jock.

He doesn’t say anything, though; he simply waits for Tony to continue. He still has no idea of whether Tony is going to backtrack completely – Tony did ask him to stay, to cuddle in bed with him, but Tony can blame the fever or temporary insanity and get away with it. Tim doesn’t have anything to blame and he’s not sure that he wants to even if he could.

Tony’s cup is nearly empty by the time he speaks again.

“Gibbs got me through the plague itself,” he says. “Made me keep taking each breath, even when they felt like fire and ice all at once. I told you, I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Tony’s words head straight for Tim’s heart and once again his imagination supplies him with images of what life would be like if he’d been attending Tony’s funeral right now, instead of sitting in his living room. His breath catches and he swallows hard.

“And then there was Kate,” Tony says. “She was—there. Sat with me. Stayed with me. And Abby, she was there too. And Ducky.” Tony pauses. “But you. You. You weren’t there. You stayed away.”

“I didn’t—” Tim says, without thinking. He hates himself for choking on the words. “I didn’t want to see you.”

Tony looks up, and he appears startled at Tim’s words.

“I—” Tim starts, but then he changes his mind, and says instead, “You were superman.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

“You and Gibbs,” Tim says. “Neither of you can get hurt. You just—bounce back. And then you didn’t. They were—they told me you—uh, they said it was bad. I talked to Kate, and Abby, and Ducky—and I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to come.”

“Superman?” Tony says, and he’s smiling slightly.

There’s a ghost of a grin on Tim’s lips; he knows Tony will wear the title of ‘superman’ with pride and glee for weeks to come. Right now, Tim doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “And then when I did come to Bethesda—I didn’t want to leave.”

“Must’ve been loads of fun watching me cough up my lungs,” Tony notes dryly.

Tim winces – the memories are still so fresh, it’s barely memories; it was just hours since Tony last coughed hard enough for Tim to think about calling an ambulance.

Tony’s looking at him, his gaze intense. “Gibbs got me through the plague, but you got me through Bethesda.”

“W-what?”

Tony shrugs, and places the empty cup on the table. He leans against the couch, looking tired but rather content.

“You were there,” Tony says. “You just—talked. Sat there. Gave me a cold case to think about.”

“Uh, yeah, Gibbs is still pissed about that.” Tim pales at the memory of the short, angry monologue Gibbs had made him listen to.

“I’ll bet.”

“But, uh,” Tim says, “Kate was there. And Gibbs, and Ducky, and Abby?”

Tony smiles slightly. “Yeah. I know.”

He runs his fingers lazily up and down the side of the couch, as though mesmerized.

“So we all got you through it?”

“No one was there as much as you, Probie,” Tony says.

“Uh, yeah, um,” Tim says, face hot, because Tony was never supposed to notice that. Still, he knows that after the first three days, after he finally managed to get Kate to leave, she didn’t spend as much time there as him. Gibbs came and went, his visits short and to the point, mostly making sure Tony was still breathing. Abby had work to do, other teams to service, which meant she had less time than the team to be there; the same thing with Ducky.

Tony leans forwards slightly, still resting against the back of the couch. Tim suddenly realizes that Tony is inching closer and closer to Tim, slowly, as though he’s approaching an easily frightened animal. Tim wonders what it is Tony thinks he will do – after all, Tim kissed Tony, not the other way around.

“Didn’t want to leave,” Tim says quietly.

“I’m glad.”

Tim swallows. “I don’t regret kissing you.”

Tony smiles, and there is something about it that Tim would label almost dangerous. He’s still inching closer. “That’s very—honest of you.”

“Yeah, uh, but—um,” Tim says, “I don’t think we should do this when you have a fever.”

Tony stops and rolls his eyes. His smile turns into the usual mask of annoyance – the one he frequently wears at work, when Tim the Probie has said something particularly stupid. “You’re not taking advantage of me, McGeek. I’m a little cold, not incapable of thought.”

“If you’re cold, you should be in bed,” Tim says. “Maybe I should call Dr. Pitt.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tony says, glaring. “I’ll be fine.”

Tim is torn between doing what Tony wants, and what’s probably best for him. He decides that if Tony gets any worse, he’ll call Dr. Pitt. He says as much to Tony.

“Will you tell me if it gets worse?”

“Yes, McWorry,” Tony says, and Tim can tell he’s lying. Tony obviously hates the hospital – and with good reason, Tim thinks, considering the poking and prodding they put him through.

“One of us should worry,” Tim mutters. “You don’t.”

“I have others that do that for me,” Tony says, grinning. “Obviously.”

And then suddenly, Tony leans forward and his face is two inches away from Tim’s face. Tim’s breath hitches and he stares wide-eyed at Tony.

“I’m not in a crazy fevered haze,” Tony says, and then his lips descend upon Tim’s.

This, too, is a quick and chaste kiss. Tony isn’t up for any more than that, with scarred lungs that need a constant and even supply of air – and still, it’s quite possibly the best kiss Tim’s ever tasted. Tony’s lips are dry but soft, full and warm, and this time, the kiss is more certain than the one they shared in the bedroom earlier.

Tony pulls away, and he’s smiling, merriment shining in his eyes, quite possibly at the look on Tim’s face.

“I—uh,” Tim says, searching an empty brain for words.

“There’s the intelligent McGee we all know,” Tony says, grinning.

“Uh, yeah,” Tim says. “I think you are crazy, but you don’t need a fever to be that.”

“You kissed me first,” Tony reminds him.

“It’s contagious,” Tim says.

Tony leans against him, head resting on Tim’s shoulder. He curls up, long legs up and one arm across Tim’s stomach, and Tim can’t do anything but love holding Tony. He rests his arm around Tony’s shoulders, and Tony sighs softly.

“Didn’t know I had a crush on you,” Tony says.

“But you do?” Tim asks.

“Obviously. I don’t cuddle with just anyone.”

“You just have sex with them,” Tim says, but it’s barely teasing.

“Sex is necessary, it’s human nature,” Tony says. “Cuddling is—not.”

Tim smiles, and places a kiss on the top of Tony’s head. He feels the rise and fall of Tony’s chest with each breath he takes, and he likes that – he likes knowing that Tony is still breathing.

Soon, Tony is asleep again. Tim doesn’t fall asleep with him this time; he sits quietly on the couch, arm around Tony, and he listens to and feels every breath Tony takes. Every now and then, he rubs Tony’s arm, or kisses the top of his head.

“Love you,” he mumbles into Tony’s soft hair and he smiles to himself.

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