Gigi Sinclair

Tony could hear Tim in the bathroom, slapping on the cream which Ducky, who never wrote prescriptions for anyone, had given in and prescribed for him. Tony would be eternally grateful for that. Although he would never have admitted it, even in private, Tony felt bad for Tim. He felt even worse, a twinge of guilt hitting his gut, as Tim came out of the bathroom with thick white cream smeared over his face and tube socks on his hands to keep him from scratching at himself like, Tony thought, a cosmetics-testing rabbit in a PETA brochure.

"Lookin' hot, Tim," Tony said blandly, turning a page in his book. Tim, in sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt to keep the poison ivy ointment from smearing on the sheets, sat on his side of the bed.

"You don't have to stay. It's not like I'm up for anything tonight."

"You don't say." Tony smiled at him. "And here I thought we could make out a little. I've never kissed a leper."

Tim was clearly not in a joking mood. At all. "Fuck off, Tony." He slid under the sheets, wincing a little as he pulled the covers up over his crotch. Tony threw down his book and turned onto his side, propping up his head on his hand and leaving a good eight inches between him and Tim.

"Of course, just because we can't do anything doesn't mean we can't talk about it." He put his hand on Tim's chest, feeling his warmth through the shirt.

Tim frowned. "I'm not in the mood."

Tony shrugged, making sure to roll his shoulders a little more than strictly necessary, and lay on his back. "You don't have to be. I was just thinking about some of the stuff I used to do back in college."

"Stuff Kate knows all about by now, I assume."

"Oh, I don't think so." Tony replied. "Steve wasn't involved. He was always kind of straight-laced, if you catch my drift. Real Boy Scout." Which made him perfect for Kate.

"Like me, I guess," Tim snapped. He really wasn't in the mood, Tony thought. But Tony had always loved a challenge.

"Sure. Only a little...straighter." He smiled. "You ever been in a circle suck, Tim?" Tim might have blushed a bit, or it might just have been the poison ivy. "That's when..."

"I know what it is," Tim interrupted.

"Oh, yeah? Well, you MIT types probably get off on the engineering. It's a little too complicated for me. I'd take a table tramp any day."

Tony could feel Tim trying not to ask. As usual, though, he gave in, although not before a good twenty seconds had passed. "What's that?"

"It's where you sit on the corner of your desk at NCIS and I suck you off in front of the whole department." Tim's Adam's apple bobbed beneath the red, irritated skin of his throat. Tony leaned in closer. "Especially Gibbs. Can you imagine him walking in on that?" Clearly, Tim could. He shuddered a little, and his eyes slid closed.

Bingo, Tony thought, moving in for the kill. "You know Gibbs, Tim. He's such a control freak he couldn't just watch. He'd have his hand down my pants before you could say 'closet case', and I know you couldn't resist, either. You'd jerk him off, and it'd look so damn hot I wouldn't even be jealous."

He'd never been jealous of Tim's obsession with Gibbs. Tony understood the appeal only too well, and he also knew there was no chance of it ever going anywhere. Gibbs had been married three times for a good reason, and that was because he loved women. Exclusively. And even if he didn't, he would rather die than sleep with a subordinate, especially one as deeply mired in hero worship as Tim was.

So Gibbs had Tim's professional admiration, and Tony had Tim's friendship and his body. Disfigured as it was at the moment, that was still a deal Tony could live with.

Tim snorted, then reached up with one of his sock-encased hands and rubbed at the side of his face. Tony said: "Hey, none of that," and Tim reluctantly put his hand back at his side.

"You have quite a way with words, you know that, Tony?" Tim was smiling now, even as he surreptitiously rubbed his leg against the sheets. Tony decided to let that one go. Poison ivy was a bitch, he'd learned that the hard way, too. It was the way he learned everything, including that little tidbit about Gibbs being entirely straight.

"Plenty more where those came from," Tony replied. "Enough to tide us over until you're not catching anymore." He leaned over and turned out the light, pulling up Tim's bedspread.

"A circle suck, huh?" Tim said, softly, after awhile, as Tony was on the brink of drifting off. He smiled without opening his eyes.

"Gibbs'd never go for it, Tim." At least not outside their mutual fantasies.

"No," Tim agreed, sounding thoughtful. "But Abby might."

And that, Tony thought as he felt Tim shift beside him, was something to tide them both over until Tim was back in action.

Even if the wildest thing Tony had really done at college was drink a keg with Steve and throw up on the dean's Mercedes.