For JB. You are remembered.

This chapter NSFW.

Chapter 25

Even going by the little bit of data the Wonder Twins have pulled from the trashed laptop so far, it's apparent that Leo Martin really had been the tech support behind the kiting scheme, and even the sparse information they've got makes for a long night for everybody because it also looks like some of the bank personnel in the various NEX locations who'd been involved with the crimes had been blackmailed into being a party to them.

The team still only has a couple names to go on at this point, and Tony's been working the facial recognition software on a dozen or more people from pictures on the laptop. He manages one hit the first time out—even without Tim's assistance with the program (which Tony will reluctantly admit he sometimes has the tendency to crash). A picture speaks a thousand words for Lieutenant Terrence Campbell whose lips are locked and whose body's entwined in at least a hundred pictures with another fit man whose posture and physique scream military but whom Tony can't yet identify. Tony winces at the problem it poses for the lieutenant because even with the recent change in the UCMJ and the overturning of DADT, there's no denying that gay military personnel have a whole 'nother load of baggage that their straight counterparts don't have to deal with.

Tony supposes, as he shuffles through Campbell's financials, the Technicolor proof of the lieutenant's love affair still spread across his desk, that it's not that huge a leap to make Tony think of Tim and all the places the two of them could have been caught together already if anyone had bothered to follow them. The hotel they've recently come to frequent especially comes to mind, and although the thought of being, well, outed he supposes is the best word even though that would imply a different sort of relationship between them, doesn't really bother Tony as much as he thought it would, the real issue is what happens if Gibbs finds out?

Maybe if Boss knew a few details of the situation, he would understand that it doesn't have to be a big deal, though it's hard to imagine how Gibbs might react to the whole thing. As far as Tony can tell, Gibbs' point in enforcing Rule #12 has always been to make sure that sex doesn't interfere with the team's ability to work together, and since Tim and Tony's solid friendship has always been the basis of their (also) solid working relationship, then Gibbs would have to see that this thing Tony's got with Tim is okay. It's not like he and Tim are dating exactly in any case, and sure, Tony doesn't know what to call it, but whatever else is going on between he and Tim right now, Tony knows that the friendship they have at the base of this thing can never die. Sure, Tim might make Tony grovel over this or that or whatever every now and again (and Tony's eyes have completely been peeled for the last two days trying to see if Abby's told Tim about Tony's teeny tiny, little white lie), Tim would never just throw him away. In fact, Tim's literally the only person in Tony's life who has never walked away from him, and Tony's going to do whatever he has to so that Tim can keep up with his streak.

Tim finishes for the night at about the same time as Tony, and it's early enough to catch a late dinner, though Tony doesn't quite feel up to schooling Tim at Panarino's. He invites Tim to his place for Chinese instead.

Tim smiles and accepts the invite right away. He follows Tony to the older man's apartment, and they call their order in to Wong's.

They pop Goodfellas into the Blueray because you really can't go wrong with DeNiro after a long, hard day at the office. The delivery kid knocks on the door just as DeNiro's character shoots a made man in the trunk of Ray Liotta's car.

"I never understood this movie," Tim confesses as he stuffs his face with tangy shrimp and vegetables.

"What's not to understand?" Tony talks around a mouthfull of sweet and sour chicken. "Gangsters, brotherhood, betrayal," he lists. "This film's got it all."

Tim swallows a particularly big bite of sugar snap peas and rice, "Half the movie—three quarters of the movie," he corrects himself, "is comprised of gratuitous violence. The last quarter is Ray Liotta's voice over." Tim shrugs, "Eh."

"Eh?" Tony shakes his head. "Did you seriously just 'eh' one of the greatest mob movies of all time?"

Again Tim shrugs, but this time there's a tinge of a smile flirting with his lips. He looks right at Tony. "Eh," he repeats, a twinkle in his eye.

Tony feels his own lips trying to curl in response. He twists his hips and sets a bent leg along the couch, facing Tim's challenge. "This movie is first and foremost about seduction," and okay, maybe it's a little more about entrapment and guilt and betrayal, but temptation is the first thing that comes to Tony's mind right now. "Ray Liotta may be a sickly kid at the start of the film, but in the mafia, he's powerful and respected, and yeah, Joe Pesci may have been a shoe shine boy—not that I ever would have called him that," Tim smirks across the way, "but he demands respect with every punch and every pull of his trigger," Tony continues as Tim sets his elbow on the back of the sofa. "And then there's Robert DeNiro as Jimmy Conway—he systematically takes out first, his competition, and then his friends, for profit. They were each tempted by something just out of their reach, and they didn't care how they got it."

"Tony," Tim ducks his head a little more, lowering his voice and pinching an eye halfway shut, "it doesn't even have a real plot to follow."

"It's not about the plot, Probie," Tony pops out those 'p's. "It's about the feeling you get when you watch it. You succumb to Henry's attraction to the mafia. You understand the high he has from the privileges he gets with the job, and then you feel the walls close in on you as his friends die, and he's got nowhere to go but to the enemy."

"The FBI," Tim purses his lips like he's holding back his laughter.

"Exactly!" Tony claps and points right at Tim.

Probie gives in to his chuckle at Tony's conclusion. "Guess I can't argue with that."

Tony beams at Tim's apparent conversion.

"But Tony," Tim leans in and whispers, "I kind of just like it for the gratuitous violence." Tim tilts his head and looks up at Tony through flirty lashes.

Tony can't stop the grin from running rampant across his cheeks. "I knew you were a regular guy all along, Probie," he swears.

Head bouncing in mock agreement, Tim crinkles his nose and glances back toward the screen. Tony hears the gunshot and subsequent thump of a body falling, but he can't remember who should be dying about now as he watches the play of light from the TV flickering across Tim's profile.

They finish their food, continuing to argue about the film's cinematic value the whole time. Tony lets himself consider, only just once or twice, that this is his future—he and Tim arguing on this couch after a long day at the Yard in the apartment they'll share together. He wonders how Tim's thinking about it. If he's thinking about it. He hopes it's on Tim's mind. He hopes Tim can't get the thought out of his mind.

As the familiar shade of blue pops back up on the TV screen at the movie's conclusion, Tim stretches where he sits beside Tony on the sofa. Tony gets up and places the disc back in its protective case, trying to think of some stalling tactic so that the night doesn't have to end just yet despite the fact that it's already almost midnight.

When he hears Tim rise behind him, Tony turns back around to face him, forcing a well worn smile to his lips despite his growing melancholy. Tim leans down and picks up the suit jacket he wore to work, slowly pulls both arms through the sleeves.

"Guess I'd better get going," Tim points a thumb past his back towards the front door, but then he hesitates as he rounds the couch to pick up his phone and gun where they rest on the thin table just behind the sofa.

Tony furrows his brow, curious but nonetheless grateful for the delay. He walks over to stand in front of Tim, who tilts his head a little shyly at Tony's scrutiny. And now Tony is desperately interested to know what's on Tim's mind. Tony squints his eyes—just a little—in question.

Tim glances up and spots the look, rolls his head on his neck before he lifts his gaze back up and determinedly sets his eyes to Tony. "I had a talk with Abby today," Tim admits.

Involuntarily, Tony's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. Tim seems to focus in on the motion and the nervousness it conveys immediately. "Yeah?" Tony finally asks, not sure that he wants this conversation to continue after all.

"Yeah," Tim nods. "We figured a few things out between us," he chuffs. "You may want to stay on the lookout for a couple weeks, by the way. She was pretty pissed about the lying."

"Tim," Tony purses his lips, not sure if Tim's mad at him, too, for messing around in the space between Tim and Abby's friendship, but Probie steps into him, his proximity silencing Tony at once.

"I wanted, um, to tell you thanks. For looking out for me," Tim clarifies. "I don't know how I would have been able to move on without having that breathing room away from her."

"So you," Tony tilts his head and latches on to the most important aspect of the conversation right away, and he finds he's almost breathless at the revelation, "You're able to move on?"

"Yeah, I was. I did," Tim lifts his brows as though surprised at his own words. "I think I must have been ready to move on for a while," Probie whispers in the small space between them. "I just didn't know how to do it," Tim licks his lips, and, with embarrassment, Tony realizes he knows that's true because he's been staring at them. The older man's eyes flitter downward.

But then Tim raises a hand to Tony's cheek and angles his chin to level with his own.

"I wanted to thank you," Tim repeats, his soft gaze dropping from Tony's eyes to his lips. "Okay?" Tim leans in just a touch, tugs along Tony's jaw just a pinch.

"Okay," Tony whispers back, and then Tim leans in and kisses him, and it feels like Tony's stomach flips right then and there.

He grabs onto Tim's waist by reflex, holding on tight for the ride as Tim gently sucks on his bottom lip and just barely teases inside his mouth. And then Tony darts his tongue into his partner's mouth, feels that suction luring him deeper inside. He gasps for breath, and Tim takes his wide open mouth as an invitation.

Tim steps closer still, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Tony's hands scurry up Tim's body, forcing Tim's arms down when he yanks Tim's jacket right off his shoulders. Tim breaks their kiss, and Tony blinks, his chest suddenly heaving in panic as he realizes where he's trying to lead Tim, where he's desperate to go with this, while Tim's just standing there staring at him.

But then Tim flicks his jacket from his wrists and jerks his hand up and around to the back of Tony's head, forcing his partner's lips right back on his, and Tony breathes his relief against Tim's mouth.

"Ahh!" Tony moans as Tim goes to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, and when he quickly wiggles his hands underneath the fabric, running his fingers down to Tony's abs.

Tony jerks Tim's turtleneck up to his armpits to palm Tim's flanks. He grins when the action causes Tim to groan against his mouth. Tim lifts his arms, and Tony takes his cue to strip the shirt from him. When Tim's hands come back down, he finishes removing Tony's shirt by cupping his palms against Tony's shoulders and following all the way to his wrists when the already loosened cuffs give way and gravity takes over. Then, Tim interlaces their fingers.

"Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly," Tony teases with a tug on both Tim's hands, and Tim steps forward as Tony steps back towards the bedroom.

Tim mouths his way to Tony's ear, "Why Tony?" Probie asks, breath hot against the lobe. "You gonna eat me?" he prods, tone dirtier and deeper than Tony's ever heard from him.

The image comes to Tony so hard and so fast—Tim gasping in the middle of his bed while Tony bends between his thighs and swallows Tim's dick as far down his throat as he can.

"Unh," the grunt escapes Tony at the same time his hips jerk right into Tim's.

"Whoa," Tim catches Tony's hips, breath puffing away from him as he does. He pulls away from Tony enough to study his face over, keeping their hips locked together and still lightly sliding against Tony and driving him crazy even as Tony's cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Tony blinks, and his jaw moves soundlessly, while his brain stutters over what he's just revealed to them both. Tony's never sucked cock before. He's never wanted to, and he can't even imagine why he pictured what he did, let alone why it makes him feel…well, something anyway.

But then Tim just closes the distance between them again, taking Tony's lips without allowing a word of derision or even confusion between them. And Tony's so grateful he gets busy on the buttons of Tim's slacks right away. Gaining a bit of space between their hips, he massages his way along Tim's shorts, then goes back up to the waistband just as they reach the bedroom door. He gets a shuddery moan from Tim when he reaches inside.

Tony teases his fingers against Tim's thighs, reaches down to cup his balls, but then can't resist temptation any longer so he adjusts his arm to wrap his hand around Tim's shaft. He remembers touching Tim's dick before, helping him put on the condom just this past Saturday so they could both fuck Jeannie quicker, but it seems so different now because it's not just a wrap it up and go kind of thing. He can feel Tim jumping up to meet him, twitching and pleading in his hand, and it takes Tony's breath away.

Tim frantically starts pushing against his pants and shorts, getting them halfway down his thighs before Tony's body, so close to his, so entwined with his, prevents him from getting any further with it. Tony lets him go, and his hand's shaking without that solid grip. After kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants and drawers, Tim goes for Tony's buckle. Tony slips off his own shoes, and Tim slides Tony's pants down his legs. Tim rests his hands on Tony's hips a moment. Tony watches him swallow hard when he reaches his left hand down and wraps it around Tony's dick.

Tony can't breathe while Tim experiments with a few short tugs, and it's both because it's so good to have Tim's fingers around his shaft and because he needs so much for Tim to be okay with this. Tony wants so hard for Tim to like the feel of his dick as much as Tony likes playing with his.

And then Probie opens his mouth with a pant, and he licks his lips, his hands still experimenting with his grip, and Tony grabs right back at him in relief, and he grabs for Tim everywhere. He wants to touch every part of him all at once, and Tony tries to, and his hands feel crazed to him the way they fly about Tim's skin—in his hair, along his chest, squeezing Tim's ass, gripping his cock. The only thing serving to keep him from going insane is the sensation of Tim's fingers as they run up his flank to just below his armpit.

"Shh. Easy," Tim whispers into Tony's ear, and Tony nods, and he breathes, and he tries to calm down, and he doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with himself.

"Tim, I—" if he'd had half his brain working, Tony would have been mortified at both the way he'd been frantically feeling Tim up and the way his mind had completely shut down.

"Shh," the shape of that sound forms right against Tony's cheek, and the sensation is incredible, and it soothes him and heats him up at the same time. "Come 'ere," Tim steps forward, walking Tony backward and into the bed.

He gently pushes Tony into sitting on the edge, and Tony backs towards the middle as he pulls Tim down with him. Tim follows without reservation, follows Tony up the bed on his hands and knees. Settling his left knee between Tony's thighs, Tim drags his dominant hand down Tony's body to grip Tony's cock once more. Tony tries to reach for Tim as well, but their hands clash right away. Feeling his brow furrow automatically, Tony can't even begin to problem solve before Tim takes over.

"Touch me," Tim orders, lowering his body closer to Tony's. "Touch me while I touch you," and it's obvious Tim's talking about two completely different kinds of contact when Tim guides Tony's right hand to his back, then lets his own fingers blaze a trail back to Tony's dick.

Tony grips Tim's shoulder hard when Probie's palm starts taking it long and tight around Tony's cock. He lifts his right leg, moves it against Tim's left one as Probie tries to keep his balance above Tony. Leaning down to kiss Tony, Tim lowers himself a little more, initiating all sorts of new points of contact. Tony's whole body shudders at the mixing sensations—Tim's mouth moving with his, Tim's body grinding down into his, Tim's tight grip moving faster up and down Tony's shaft, pausing every once in a while to tease the head a little more.

Both of Tony's hands roam right into Tim's hair while Tony's mouth insists on staying locked with Tim's. Tony runs his nails all along the back of Tim's skull, knowing how much Tim loves that. Immediately, Tim's hips jerk into Tony, making Tony gasp and push right up into Tim's grip while Tim's cock pushes back down, hot and hard against him.

Tim takes that as his cue and jerks harder. Tony's hips lift high off the bed, bringing the two of them into fuller contact as he comes all over them both.

Painting kisses across his cheeks and eyelids, Tim wraps his palm around Tony's hip as the older man's breathing calms down. Tony opens his eyes just as Tim nuzzles along his jaw.

"Flip over," Tony demands, and he really fucking likes that shudder that runs through Tim's body at his words.

Tim lifts his head and immediately complies. They switch positions with ease, their bodies poised in a mirror image to what they were a moment ago. Tony lifts his hand to Tim's chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He leans down and kisses his lips once, then goes for his jaw, down to his neck.

"Tony—" Tim strains his voice in a plea.

Tony's hand's already started moving anyway, and it makes his breath catch anew to wrap his digits around Tim's dick.

"Fuck!" Tim's hips come up to meet Tony's mobile hand as he cusses, and Tony loves the sound of that curse from Probie's sweet lips. He sets his own mouth to Tim's neck—going for the jugular—the better to keep Probie's tongue free and loose. Tony yanks beautiful sounds from Tim's throat while he yanks on Tim's cock.

Tim's hips surge like Tony's had a moment ago, his come covering Tony's hand, and Tony rubs his fingers against one another as if he's never felt semen between his digits before, and he kind of wonders whether Tim's come would taste different from his own.

Tony tries to roll, but Tim tightens his grip about his partner's shoulder. Tony relaxes back into Tim, rests his sticky hand against Probie's hip. When Tim lifts his eyes up to meet Tony's there's something almost surprised in them, and Tony's abruptly taken back to that first night when the two of them took Dana to this same bed. Tim'd had that same look in his eyes after the first time he'd kissed Tony.

"Just reaching for the tissues," he assures Probie.

Tim licks his lips. He blinks a second later when Tony's words seem to register and then loosens his grip around Tony to let him stretch to the nightstand and collect the box of tissues. They clean up quickly, and when they're done, Tony simply tosses the used tissues towards the side of the bed, making Tim's nose wrinkle a touch.

Tony tugs on the edge of the comforter just above Tim's head, and Tim takes his cue and sits up as Tony pulls the bedspread down. They both slip between the sheets a moment later. Tony watches Tim a little curiously when the younger man sidles up close beside him in the bed. Tim keeps his eyes studiously away from Tony's when he lifts his hand and sets it lightly in the middle of Tony's chest.

"Okay?" Tim asks for the second time tonight, his voice wavering more now than it did the first time.

"Yeah," Tony whispers back quietly and brings his own hand to lie atop it.