Trauma Queen: A NCIS Fanfiction

Chapter Sixteen

"Good morning," Tim said sleepily, kissing my neck.

I smiled and enjoyed the moment. "Mm good morning." I rolled over, my T-shirt getting twisted around me. I was too happy to be bothered to untangle myself.

Tim snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He planted a soft kiss on my lips and held it there, wanting the moment to last. I put my hand on his hip and breathed in his scent. He still smelled like the cologne he had on last night.

"So last week when I was going to originally kiss you... did you actually want me to?" Tim asked once he pulled away.

I nodded. "Yes, I did. But Abby had gotten me freaked out so that's why I reacted the way I did."

He smiled. "Well you scared me half to death. I thought I was being too forward."

I laughed. "Tim, Nothing is more forward than me taking your hand and literally putting you behind me so I could grind on you."

He blushed. "While that may be true, I did quite enjoy that."

"Hmm I wonder why." I playfully smacked his arm and he pushed my shoulder lightly.

Tim rolled himself onto his back and pulled me into him so I had my head between his shoulder and chest and my hand across his stomach. He had on one of my oversized MIT shirts and I thought it was funny because usually I would be the one wearing someone else's T-shirt.

"Your room is cute," Tim commented suddenly.

I laughed. I didn't think my room would be described as "cute". I had a small desk by the window which held my writing notebooks and collection of pens. There was a photograph of my family sitting in a sparkly frame my brother had given me when I was like eight. The walls had framed movie posters from my favorite animes. They were actually original posters from Japan and I treasured them. I also had a Shakespeare quote on my wall in some kind of old fashioned font. But I guess compared to his bare walls, my room could be classified as "cute".

"Thanks, I think. You're actually the first person to see my room." I immediately regretted saying that. I had a feeling he would ask about my family or ask about past lovers or something.

"Really? That surprises me."

I shrugged. "Why?"

"Your family hasn't come to see it? It sounded like you and your brother were close by the way you talk about him." There it was. The famous comment. Everyone always assumed we were close, and we were. But since I never mentioned he had died, no one knew we weren't still able to be close.

"We were. It's been a long time since we've spoken."

He rubbed circles on my back. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine not being close to my sister. I mean, I hated her when we were little, but when I left for college, we both grew up and started to finally get close."

"That's really nice. My brother and I were close when we were little. He was my best friend. He was a few years older than I was and he always looked out for me. He even punched a guy in the face because he was being a dick to me." I laughed, thinking of that day. It was my senior year of high school and my prom date got a little handsy so he got a punch to the face.

Tim snickered. "That's great. I would do that for Sarah, but I know she'd be so pissed at me. She's very independent, but comes to me when she needs me. Our parents are far away and she goes to Wagner so she's just a fifteen minute drive."

I smiled even though I was incredibly jealous. "That's great. I'm glad you two are so close. Keep her close; life is short." There was an awkwardly long pause, most likely a result of Tim not knowing how to respond. So I came up with the only logical solution. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Well I don't have food here because I can't cook so..." I was embarrassed at the fact I couldn't cook. I was twenty six years old and I still never learned how to cook; it was pretty sad. I could make easy stuff like pasta and boxed foods, but when it came to the real deal, I was hopeless.

Tim laughed at me and I had a feeling it was a pity laugh. "I have pancake mix at my place if you want to do that?"

I nodded and shot straight up in bed. "Yes! I love pancakes. Let's go!"

And so we went, both in nothing but an MIT T-shirt and our underwear, over to Tim's apartment. Neither of us bothered to put on pants because our neighbors definitely wouldn't be bothered to notice us walking across the hall for two seconds.

While Tim searched his cabinets and fridge for the necessary ingredients, I heated up the skillet on the stove so it would be ready for use. Tim handed me the mix and some water and I looked at him like he was crazy.

"You seriously have never made pancakes before?" He had an incredulous look on his face and I immediately felt embarrassed. I slowly shook my head no, my cheeks burning red. "Pour the water in and mix until there's no lumps. How have you survived this long on your own?"

"Pizza and Chinese takeout." I smiled proudly as I began mixing, gripping the wooden spoon with my life. Tim didn't even bother responding to my ridiculousness.

When I thought I was done, I shoved the bowl in Tim's face and he took it from me happily, spreading circles of raw pancake onto the skillet. I stood beside him and watched as he cooked our breakfast, smiling the entire time.

"Can you make a pot of coffee?" Tim asked when he was almost done cooking. "Or is that too advanced for you?"

I playfully hit his arm. "I make a mean pot of coffee, I can promise you that!"

When everything was done and we were sitting at the counter of his island, my phone rang. I groaned as I looked at the caller ID. Gibbs.

"Cahn," I answered, annoyed.

"Dead marine at Acostia Park. Get McGee and get down here." Gibbs sounded tired and grumpy, but no more than usual. The line went dead before I could even say 'on it Boss'.

I shut my phone and groaned loudly. "Dead marine. We have to go."

Tim rolled his eyes and shook his head. "There's always something isn't there?"