Fic: Past Offenses

[jack-infinitude.livejournal.com]

Title: Past Offenses

Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Warning(s): AU, preslash.
Word Count: 1638 words

Summary: Spoilers for South by Southwest. Instead of Gibbs, it is McGee that goes to Arizona with Tony.
A/N: A little AU story that I'm hoping to expand at some point. Will hopefully segue into a McGee-backstory.



The fact that McGee wants to explore sets off the alarm bells in Tony's head. It's hot and the sun won't stop shining; the damn thing's always there, driving him crazy. He'll kill for air conditioning, because the water bottle just isn't cutting it. Besides, they've finally stopped, and he wants to walk around a bit, stretch his muscles out before he becomes bandy-legged.

But no, Probie wants to go and have a look at the scenery during their break. The only one they'll have before three more hours of riding. Tony opens his mouth to tell McGee to forget it, that they're not here to sight see for Christ's sake, and to that Gibbs only sent McGee because he wanted to stay behind, and protect Abby; Tim shouldn't be here at all. Except the sheriff doesn't play along and says, Sure Special Agent McGee, just don't go too far, which, hello? What? Shouldn't they be resting, drinking water and concentrating on not letting their legs cramp up? What the hell is Sheriff Man thinking?

And McGee gets back onto his palomino, and turns her around to face northeast, and it's just not fair that he should be grinning like a little kid.

"Whoa," Tony says. "Wait a minute, Probie."

The grin disappears. Since when was Tony the bad guy here?

"You don't have to come," McGee replies, in the voice that says don't come near me, because I'm really pissed off at you right now. "I'll be fine, Tony."

"I know that," Tony shoots back in the voice that says I know you're pissed off, and frankly I don't care. "I just don't want you to go out there all alone. What if you fell and broke your leg or something?"

McGee narrows his granite colored eyes, and Tony is suddenly aware that he is being significantly overshadowed. "I'll be fine, Tony."

"I think he's right," the sheriff says slowly. "You can ride well enough, but you're still rusty --" And McGee twitches at that, and all Tony can think is rusty? McGee? what? before he continues. "-- and you're not familiar with the territory. You should have a partner to watch your back."

McGee looks like he's gnashing his teeth, and Tony wonders just who pissed in his coffee this morning. Tim's been bitchy and snarky for the past few months, but it's been nothing like the barely contained rage that Tim's been exhibiting this whole trip. It's like he's taking DiNozzo's presence as an affront to his personal solitude, or something stupid like that.


Well, regardless: if McGee wants to go hunting for adventure, he's just going to have to deal with the overbearing senior field agent that comes along with it, even if it is that time of month for him. Tony has no intention of letting Tim wander off on his own just to get lost, or to kill himself breaking his neck. Though McGee seems intent on riding that palomino everywhere, and DiNozzo has the suspicion that if he tries to follow on foot then Tim will kick the mare into a gallop and leave him behind as soon as they're out of sight of the sheriff. Which means more horseback riding for Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

He wonders if the probie knows what it is to have the entire lower half of your body scream no!

"Fine," Tim says finally. Then he slides out of the saddle (and that's another weird thing, because McGee gets on and off the horses like he's made of water and how the hell can he manage that when he can barely walk in a straight line back at the office?) and for a minute Tony has hope that Probie is so aggravated that he's given up on the idea.

But today is not that day. McGee is...removing the saddle?

"What the hell are you doing?" Tony asks.

"I saw the way you looked at Logan--"

"Who?"

"Your horse," McGee says through clenched teeth. Like Tony would know the name of "his" horse when he could barely ride the animal.

"What does that have to do with taking the saddle off?"

McGee folds the saddle blanket and lays it across the saddle, which is rested on a conveniant boulder. The palomino snorts and shakes her body out, and overall seems much happier to have the weight off. "It's the saddle that's aggravating you," he says. "And there's no point in taking two horses. You're riding behind me."

"Not good for the horse," the sheriff points out. "Neither of you are pixies."

"She's strong, she can handle it," McGee replies confidently. "I was going to walk her back anyway."

"I'm not riding behind you," Tony states, using calmness and authority to augment his voice. It goes completely unheeded.

"Then you're not coming at all!" Tim retorts cheerfully. "My way or the highway, Tony!"

"Are you two really partners?" the sheriff asks.

"I've been asking myself that for a while," Tony mutters. He doesn't see the way McGee flinches, just a little. Instead, he picks up his water bottle and approaches the palomino. "How do we do this?" he asks with a sigh.

McGee magic's his way onto the horse, who snorts a little in surprise at the weight of a rider on her back without the customary tack. Tim pets her neck reassuringly as she shifts from hoof to hoof. Tony shakes his head, and pats the part of the horse's back that isn't covered by McGee's butt.

Now -- just put his foot in the stirrup, and --

Damn it all.

"Do you need a stool?" McGee asks. He has the nerve to sound amused, the jerk.

"I'm doing just fine," Tony replies through gritted teeth. He tries to raise himself up on his arms alone, but the palomino's back is four inches above his shoulder, which makes getting on difficult, and he isn't sure that he trusts what the horse thinks of all this. If she bucks or something, then they're all in trouble.

McGee takes pity on him. "That way," he says, pointing to the boulder next to him. Between using it as a step and McGee's steady arm, Tony is able to pull himself onto the palomino's back.

She snorts again, and begins shifting and stepping about, trying to get rid of the extra weight. McGee just pats her neck some more and makes soothing noises inbetween telling Tony to point his heels down, and to hold onto Tim's waist, and to sit up straight for God's sake, this isn't high school. DiNozzo personally thinks that last one was a bit of a low blow, but he does as he's told, and eventually the palomino settles down.

"We're off," McGee says cheerfully, and nudges the horse into a trot.

It's the strangest sensation. Tony hadn't even begun to get used to the shifting of his own horse; now he has this to get used to, actually feeling the horse's muscles working underneath him, and he finds himself clutching Tim tighter.

"Don't squeeze with your calves so much," Tim says without turning his head. "You're just confusing her, she doesn't know who's driving. Use your thighs to hold on. And lean forward now that you're settled, follow the curve of my back."

"McGee, you've been holding out on me." Tony leans forward, until he's lined up almost perfectly with McGee's spine, and no, the way his crotch is pressing against Probie's ass isn't lost on him.

"I've been doing this since I was a little kid," Tim admits. "But it's not like we're allowed to ride down suspects. It was never important before."

"You miss it," Tony guesses.

"You need to relax," is all McGee says, and that's answer enough right there.

They ride in silence for a few minutes. Tony focuses on the rhythm of the horse's steps; heavier and slower than what he's heard before. The palomino is having to work harder to carry both of them. He wonders what McGee had been thinking, wanting to ride double and bareback.

But it feels -- if not better, more natural. He can actually tell how the palomino is moving, as opposed to sliding backwards in the saddle. And there's something nice about being able to hold onto McGee this way. Tony can feel just what Tim is doing -- his stomach muscles keep tightening and loosening, and his hips keep moving as he shifts on the palomino's back. DiNozzo finds himself copying the movements, and he starts feeling less like he's about to fall off.

"Where did you learn to ride?" he asks, breaking the silence.

McGee doesn't answer; just ducks his head a little, and continues to look around, like he's searching for something.

"McGee?"

Eyes rolling upwards. Big sigh. "Montana. My grandfather owned a ranch, and I'd go there for the summer before Sarah was born. He taught me how to ride. We're coming to an incline," he adds. "Lean forward, and hold onto me."

"Tim--"

"Dammit, Tony, now."

Tony obeys just the ground tilts sharply underneath them. He can feel gravity pulling at him, trying to upend him off the palomino and onto his head, and oh fuck he's starting to slide backwards --

"Tony, hold on to me."

"I'm slipping--"

"No, you're not, I promise."

He clutches Tim's waist, and presses his face into the younger man's neck, with his nose right behind McGee's ear. Tim's hair is ridiculously soft, and smells -- really nice. Like something, not fruity, but good, like flowers maybe?--

"That's it," McGee says, and his voice is so soft that Tony wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't already so close. "Just hold me, Tony. I won't let you fall."