title: Dusk
author: neotrantrika
fandom: NCIS
spoilers: Season Two; follows episode "S.W.A.K."
pairing: Kate/Tony
rating: NC-17 for graphical sexual descriptions
disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Belisarius Productions and CBS. No infringement of their rights is intended.
author note: Written for ncisficathon on LiveJournal. Prompt: Kate fic--told from her POV -- re: "don't ask, don't tell".
summary: Takes place after "SWAK", the second season episode, and before "Twilight". Caitlin Todd drives Tony home and his thank you is a little warmer than planned.

Caitlin Todd drew the car to the curb smoothly. Before she even shut off the engine, Tony DiNozzo was reaching for his seat belt lock.

"You can just drop me here," he said. He fumbled at the seat belt catch. "You don't have to come up."

Kate reached over and clicked his seat belt open. "You can't even get out of the car. I'll take your stuff in."

"No, no, it's all right," he said hastily, but Kate had already opened her door.

The light was dying in the west; Kate figured the sun was half an hour from setting. An overcast sky threatened rain, and the breeze on her cheek was cool. She opened the back door of her car. On the other side, Tony struggled out of the front seat and leaned on the hood, trying to hide the fact that he was gasping.

She yanked the gym bag (Gucci, of course) out of the back seat and slammed the door. Why did the man have to be so stubborn? Was it reflex? "Tony, come on. You're in no shape to be playing tough guy."

Tony looked at her, his hair mussed, his jaw unshaven, and gave her that patented DiNozzo grin. "I don't have to play at it. It comes naturally."

Kate shook her head, amused. At least he was smiling. "Let's get you upstairs."

The grin vanished and he straightened. "Seriously, Kate. I appreciate the ride home from the hospital, but --"

"But me no buts, DiNozzo," she said crisply. She strode around the car, juggling his keys in her hand. "You're not going to win this argument. Do you want to lead, or do I have to find it myself?"

He argued with her all the way up to the third floor of his apartment building, a quiet brick edifice in west Georgetown. Kate had been surprised at the address; she'd envisioned the slick Tony in more upscale digs in the fashionable part of town. What must his neighbors think of his parties? Because she was sure Tony's parties were regular barn burners.

"I'm fine. Here, give me the keys. I'll open the door, you can hand me the bag--"

"Tony, how many dead bodies do you have stacked in your living room?"

He hesitated, half-grinning. "It's the girls in the cages. They're shy."

"Because they're naked?"

His eyes opened all the way. "Why, Kate, are you... teasing me?"

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. She glanced at a sign on the wall and turned left. Tony's apartment was at the end of the hall; a window across from his front door overlooked a quiet, tree-filled suburb.

"Come on, Kate," Tony said behind her. "Doesn't a man have a right to privacy?"

"Oh, that's rich," she said. "Coming from a man who routinely goes through my purse, my computer files, my desk drawers..." She unlocked his door, reminded herself Tony was a bachelor, braced herself, and went in. And gasped.

The door opened into a large room with a high ceiling and many windows. On the left, a kitchen faced in blond wood cabinets overlooked a tiny balcony; the window over the sink held a sad-looking vine in a pot. A small table, only large enough for two, sat on the edge of the kitchen area. To her right, a large living/dining room was done in shades of brown and gold. The gold rug on the hardwood floor matched the gold pillows and throw on the brown leather couch. The couch itself divided the living area from the kitchen, and faced a huge plasma television hung on the opposite wall. The coffee table held neatly arranged magazines--she expected soft core porn and was surprised to find only sports, men's fashions, and movie magazines. She had no idea what color the walls were, because the floor-to-ceiling shelves were crammed with what had to be the world's largest private collection of DVDs and videotapes.

What had surprised her, however, was the status of this apartment. It was immaculate. No dirty socks, no pizza boxes, no beer bottles stacked in a corner. Everything was neatly arranged, harmonious, and clean.

"Tony, do you actually live here?" she said.

Tony slumped against the door frame. "Yeah. Looks like the maid's been in. I'll have to tip her."

The weary tone in his voice drew her gaze. "Oh, God, Tony. Come in. Sit on the couch."

She expected a fight but he surrendered, and let her lead him to the couch. He fell into it and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. His face was haggard, beat. He looked vulnerable and ill. Kate resisted the urge to run her hand over his head, tousling that shaggy hair. "Poor Tony," she said.

He smiled without opening his eyes. "Thanks, Kate. You're ... sweet." His smile faded.

Kate sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. She leaned forward. "Tony, when's the last time you ate?"

He shrugged. "Breakfast? If you can call hospital food breakfast."

"It's almost six PM now," she said. "You should eat before you go to bed."

His eyes held a spark of interest, then weariness descended on him like a cloud. "Maybe I'll call out for pizza or something. In any case, you don't have to worry--"

Kate stood. "I thought as much. I'll be right back."

Outside, the breeze had picked up a little, and fat raindrops splattered the sidewalk here and there. Kate hurried to the trunk of her car, retrieved the grocery bags, and ducked back into the building just as the first serious drops began to fall. As the door to the vestibule closed behind her, the breeze brought the smell of wet earth.

Tony was still where she had left him, slumped on his couch, his hands splayed loosely between his thighs, his head back and eyes closed. Kate felt her heart give a little lurch. He'd been through so much, he looked so tired...

She put the bags on the spotless counter beside the sink and started to unpack. "I've done this before," she said conversationally. "Last time I brought my mom home from the hospital, she hadn't eaten all day and the refrigerator was empty." She opened cabinets, searching for a pantry, and found one with canned goods. "So I stopped by the grocery on the way to the hospital. I didn't know what you liked, so I assumed Italian."

"Good assumption," said Tony, right behind her. She jumped.

"Goodness!" she said, turning around. She glanced down at his bare feet. "No fair."

He took a jar of marinara sauce out of her hand and examined the label closely. "Canned spaghetti sauce? Seriously?"

He still looked haggard, but his voice held a little more life than it had half an hour ago. Must be the mention of food, she thought. Typical Tony. "You don't like spaghetti?"

His eyes widened. "Don't like..." He reached past her and opened the door of the freezer.

Kate saw several plastic freezer containers. "Souvenirs?" she quipped.

He drew out a container and handed it to her. "Microwave. Five minutes on full power, let it sit five minutes, then five minutes on full power again."

She looked at the handwritten label and recognized Tony's handwriting. "You made this?"

He straightened. "My aunt Letty's recipe. From the old country." He smiled slightly. "You'll find the pasta on the second shelf. I'm going to go get a shower. I'm hoping you'll stay for dinner." There was just enough of the DiNozzo smugness in that last statement to get her back up, but then she saw the hesitation in his step as he turned away, saw the slump in his shoulders, and relaxed. He's keeping up appearances, she told herself. Never-say-die-DiNozzo. She turned her attention to the preparation of a simple meal of spaghetti and salad and bread.

She was setting the table for two when he came back in. She glanced up, and then away, her cheeks warming. Tony wore only striped silk pajama bottoms and a smile. He was toweling his wet hair, and smiled when he saw her reaction.

"Miss me?"

She refused to look at him, and picked up the pot of pasta to strain through a colander in the sink. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to dress for dinner?"

"This is Dolce and Gabbana!"

"Put on a shirt."

"And get spaghetti sauce on a hundred dollar silk pajama top?"

"Tony!" Her voice warned of dire consequences.

He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. "That smells good."

She straightened, a pasta server in hand, and glared at him. "Tony!"

He sat there, naked from the waist up, and gave her his most beatific smile. "Is it ready? I could eat a horse."

Well, it was his kitchen, his place, his rules. Reluctantly, Kate dished up spaghetti and sauce on two plates and brought them to the table. She set one before Tony, and smelled shampoo as he leaned forward, sniffing the sauce. "Wonderful!" he said.

She seated herself across from him, trying to avoid looking at his chest. But the image was there, even as she twirled spaghetti around with a fork. Broad, well muscled, curly hair thick enough to tickle but not bearishly abundant, rippled abs...yeah, she should not be thinking like this. She'd caught glimpses of him before, notably during an overnight security detail when he'd felt free to invade the bathroom when she was showering, but now...

"This is really good," Tony said, bent over his plate.

"I can't really take credit for it," she said dryly. "It's your sauce."

"I know. That's why it's so good," he said. He glanced at the water in his glass. "I guess you missed the wine. It's in the rack under the--"

"I didn't miss it, Tony," she said. This is ridiculous. I can look at him. I've seen him practically naked, in the isolation ward last week. She let her eyes meet his. "I heard Dr. Pitt when he released you. He said no wine for a month."

"No wine? With Italian food?" Tony's voice rose in shock.

"Between the plague and high-potency antibiotics, your liver has been under heavy assault. The last thing it needs is a half a bottle of Dago Red to filter."

'But--"

"No, Tony," she said firmly. He looked so pathetic, sitting there half-dressed, with spaghetti sauce on the corner of his mouth and a woebegone expression, that Kate couldn't help herself. She smiled. "Tell you what. One month from today, I'll buy you a full Italian dinner, with wine, at the restaurant of your choice."

His eyes brightened. "You asking me on a date, Agent Todd?"

She winced. "No. No, it's a ... a celebration. Of your recovery."

"It's a date," he said triumphantly.

"A celebration--"

"Casimiro's. Over in Bethesda. Their chef makes his own ricotta cheese--"

"I was thinking of Olive Garden," she said wickedly.

Tony winced. "Oh. Okay."

She was finishing her salad when her cell phoned beeped. As she rose from the table, Tony stood up unsteadily. "I'll get the dishes," he said.

"No, no! You go to bed. I'll clean up," she said. She found her purse and flipped open her phone. "Hello, Gibbs."

Jethro Gibbs' soft growl sounded in her ear. "How is he?"

"He's Tony," she said acerbically. "Annoying, pig-headed, over--"

"Is he healthy, Agent Todd?" She caught the hint of amusement under Gibbs' voice.

She turned to look at Tony, who stood with a plate in each hand, grinning foolishly at her. "He's fine," she said.

"Thanks for driving him home."

"It was a public service," she said. "On his best day, Tony is a traffic hazard when he's behind the wheel."

"Hey!" Tony pretended to stagger with shock. He nearly dropped a plate, recovered, and grinned at her again.

"Tell him I don't want to see him for a week." Gibbs hung up.

She closed her cell. "The boss says stay home for a week."

Tony had opened the dishwasher and was rinsing the plates. "I was planning on going in tomorrow."

"Didn't you hear me? Gibbs says he doesn't want you to come in."

"What, and use up all my accrued sick time? Hand me that salad bowl, will you?"

She took a fork out of his hand, gently elbowing him aside. "Go to bed, Tony. You need your rest."

He stood aside as she rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. "I was thinking about watching a movie. Wanna stay and help me?"

"It's been a long day," she said, not looking at him. She was all too aware of him, less than an arm's length away, bare chested and barefoot, with those laser blue eyes looking at her. I should go, she thought. But she didn't want to. And she didn't want to ask herself why that was.

"Casablanca?" Tony said. "'Here's looking at you, kid'," he said in his best Bogart voice. "Or I've got Gone With the Wind. 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn'."

She laughed despite herself. "Your Clark Gable sounds like your Jimmy Stewart."

Tony put a hand on his chest. "You wound me. Seriously."

She closed the door of the dishwasher and turned it on. It came to life with a quiet hum. She glanced out the window over the sink. The sun was down, and even though light lingered in the sky, lights were coming on all over the neighborhood. She turned to him, laying aside the dishtowel she'd been wiping her hands with. "I should go. Really."

"I've got popcorn," he said, and stepped forward. "Two kinds."

She resisted the urge to step back, and now they were nearly chest to chest. She smelled soap, and shampoo, and something musky and male under that--Tony's skin. "Tony, are you ... are you trying to ... seduce me?"

He grinned, opened his mouth...and stopped. She saw the laughter dying in his eyes along with his smile. This close, she could see lines at the corners of his eyes she hadn't seen before, could see the hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes, signs of the physical trials he'd been through the past few days. "I ... " He swallowed, looking solemn. "I think ... I'm trying to thank you, Kate."

She felt a flush go through her, warm and slow. "You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do." He reached out. She didn't resist when he took her hands in his, very gently. "I ... I know what you did back there, for me. In the hospital."

"I don't know what you're--"

"Jimmy Palmer came by to visit yesterday," he said. His eyes were intense now, shading from gray-blue to blue. She could not look away. "He told me everything. That the blood tests all came back negative, except mine. Yet you stayed."

"I didn't know--"

"Yes, you did," he said. He tugged on her hands, and now she was up against him. Her hands still caught in his, he slid his hands around to her back. "You could have caught it from me. Yet you stayed."

She said nothing, remembering the feeling of rising panic as she'd watched him ebb, watched him grow weaker, fighting the deadly bacterium with his usual wit and courage. She'd watched him flirt with the nurses even as he coughed up half his lungs. "It was dead..." she whispered. "The man who engineered it built in a suicide gene."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She felt his lips on her skin. "You didn't know that then," he whispered. "For all you knew, you were exposing yourself to the plague. Yet you stayed. With me." He rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

She felt the room go still and warm around them, the night darkening outside the window. It was only the two of them, breathing, quiet, together. She let her defenses fall. "I didn't want you to die alone." She felt the catch in her breath. "I ... I didn't want you to die."

His hands released hers, pulled her into an embrace that put her cheek against his bare chest. It tickles, she thought with an inward laugh.

"That was ... kind of you, Kate," he said into her hair. "If I had to die ... I'd ... I'd want you there with me."

She looked up at him. "Same goes," she said softly.

He bent down only a little, and the pressure of his mouth on hers was soft, very gentle. Not what she'd expected of a practiced seducer. But for all her inexperience, this kiss didn't feel like seduction. It felt ... honest. So she closed her eyes and let herself feel his mouth on hers, let herself feel the warmth and silky softness of his lips. His arms tightened a little, then released her.

But his mouth didn't. His mouth pressed hers, and she felt his tongue slick against her mouth, and then she opened her mouth and let him in. His tongue was slow, sure, unhurried. She felt warm all over. She wasn't used to this kind of unhurried exploration. Her head reeled. She shuddered, and then realized he must have sensed her reaction, and felt embarrassment war with arousal.

She pulled away quickly, leaving him bright-eyed but silent before her. "Tony... I ..."

He put a finger on her lips. "Kate--" He leaned down again.

"We can't--"

"I know." He kissed the corner of her mouth.

"We shouldn't--"

"You're right. These things never work out." He kissed the other corner of her mouth.

"Everyone would know--"

"Don't ask, don't tell," he said lazily, and captured her further protest with a kiss, a little harder now, more urgent, still as sensual and irresistible as before. And this time the heat that went through her was not slow. It was hot and quick as her heartbeat, and the dizzy feeling came and went, and most of her remembered that she had nearly lost this man, that she had wept for this man, prayed for this man, and worried for this man. And now she wanted this man.

He read her mind, and to her surprise, scooped her up easily in his arms. She gasped, breaking the kiss. "Tony!"

"I can make it as far as the bedroom," he said confidently. His voice was low, intimate. "You may have to take it from there."

This is not a good idea, part of her was saying, at the same time another part of her was saying At last! It was only a few steps to his bedroom door, so she had no time to sort them out before he was setting her on her feet. Nervously, she glanced around. So neat, she thought. Not what she'd expected. Huge bed, of course, with a black silk coverlet strewn with silver pillows. A soft silver-grey carpet over the hardwood floor, closed sliding closet doors, bedside table with reading lamp and three books. "What?" she said as lightly as she could. "No ceiling mirrors?"

He refused to rise to the bait, his eyes on her solemn and clear. "I sleep alone, Kate."

She glanced up at him, surprised. "But--"

He smiled sardonically. "I visit a lot of women, but this...this is mine. I ... I don't invite people to spend the night."

She pulled away, suddenly feeling chilled. That's all he wanted? A quick slam-bam, and show her the door. Not likely. "I think I'd better--"

He caught her hands. "Kate. I didn't mean you. You can stay as long as you like. Please stay. Please." That last word was whispered into her hair.

I must be losing my mind, she thought. But her feet followed his to the edge of the bed, and then he was sitting, lying back, pulling her down to lie on his chest, and her face was between his hands and his mouth was on hers.

He broke the kiss, pulling back and looking at her. "I'm tasting ... salt?" He put a finger to her cheek and it came away wet. "Kate?"

Belatedly, she realized she had tears on her cheeks. She dashed her hands against them, embarrassed. "Wow. Where did that come from?" But she already knew. I almost lost him.

He drew her down again, and softly kissed one cheek, then another. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling his strong heart beating under her palms, the warmth of his skin, and the tickle of his chest hair. She took a deep breath, inhaling him. Okay, she thought. Admit it, you've been curious about him all along. Now we'll find out just how good Tony DiNozzo really is. And another part of her knew this bravado was only her excuse for doing something she wanted to do anyway, for a reason she would not admit to herself.

She felt fingers on her shirt and looked down. "Not sure I can do these," Tony said distractedly. "Not a lot of light in here."

She pushed his fingers aside. "Like you can't undress a woman blindfolded," she said, with a low laugh.

"Most women, maybe," he said softly. "Not you."

Her fingers finished with the buttons, and his hands slid into the open shirt, cupping her breasts. "What do you mean?" she said.

"You talk too much," he said huskily. And kissed her hard.

Her fingers slid up to tangle in his hair, and his fingers slid up under her brassiere to find her nipples, and she heard herself moan into his mouth. She shrugged out of her blouse, he slid his hands around to expertly unhook her bra, and then she was naked from the waist up and his hands were everywhere.

Let it happen, she thought. Let it happen. For once.

Breathing hard, she straddled him, her hands in his hair and her mouth on his. His hands caressed her sides, teased her nipples, slid up to stroke her shoulders, her arms, everything he could reach. He was in no hurry, and his hands told her his delight as clearly as the hardness she felt under her, under the striped silk of his pajama pants. She leaned down, felt her hard nipples sweep across the hair of his chest, and felt the spike of pleasure go through her. She moaned again, and he chuckled softly.

"I like that sound," he said into her ear. "Do it again." His fingers pinched a nipple lightly, and she giggled and moaned at the same time, and felt his stomach heaving under her with his silent laughter. "That's a new one."

She thrust her tongue into his ear and grinned as he arched up under her with a slight hiss. "Oh, he likes that, does he?" she murmured. She drew her tongue down his neck to the hollow under his chin. He lay with his eyes closed, savoring it. "And likes that, too?"

He made a sound very similar to a purr, and she drew her tongue up the other side of his neck. He smiled and she closed her teeth gently on his earlobe. "Oh, I like that," he sighed. "Now let's see what else Kate likes." He started to roll her over, but she pressed down on his upper arms, pinning him to the bed.

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, grinning at his surprised look. "You know I have a black belt, Tony. I can hold you down like this all day."

His smile was lazy and self-satisfied. "Promise?" And then he twisted his hips suddenly, throwing her sideways, and rolled on top of her.
His smile faded, and his look grew more serious, and Kate felt her heart slow from its wild beating to a slow, measured thud, a deep throb that went all through her, beating along muscle and bone, saying this is serious this is serious.

Without words, their mouths met. Their hands, and then their fingers, were busy, working surely and quickly, until her skirt hit the floor next to his pajama bottoms and she felt his hands sliding under her panties even as his lips slid along her neck. Then he was skimming them down her legs, leaving her bare against his bare skin, the two of them hot and fevered on the big black coverlet of the bed.

His mouth was everywhere, hurried, frantic. She was surprised, she had expected the slow tease of seduction, not this ... passion. She felt her own passion rising to meet his, a feeling made up of lust, longing, pity, fear, comfort...and something else. Something very new and tender and intimate, that grew stronger as his embrace grew more heated. She felt his erection hard against her thigh and shifted, giving him access.

His breath was hot in her ear. "Kate...I need to..."

She put her finger on his lips (he sucked it into his mouth she shivered). "Tony, I've seen your medical records, from kindergarten to this Tuesday. You don't have any diseases I'm afraid of."

He smiled and kissed her. When he pulled back, he rocked his hips against her very gently. Without a word, she spread her thighs, looking into his eyes as he slid slowly into her. She saw his eyes lose focus, then his head dropped into the hollow of her neck and he moaned.

"Tony..." she whispered, and locked her legs around his. I almost lost this man. She turned her face to meet his and his mouth found hers. He rocked into her, a gentle but persistent rhythm. His skin was hot under her hands--fever? Or passion? She didn't care. "Tony," she whispered again. "Yes."

"Yes," he whispered back.

"Yes!" she said as he surged harder into her.

"Yes!" he nearly shouted in her ear. He propped himself on one arm, slid the other around her waist, slid it down to cup her buttocks and hold her hard against him. His eyes almost glowed. "Yes, Kate, oh yes."

He slid into her, strong. "Yes." Again. "Yes."

She lifted her knees, grasping him, holding him, arching back against him as the rhythm built in her, unlocking something deep inside her. "Yes," she said. "Yes!"

The tension built into a hot, tight moment where she was poised on the edge. Then his mouth came down on hers, full of passion and intensity and pure Tony, and he surged into her with a long, slow thrust. Then she was unfolding and coming apart in the most delicious way, shuddering and trembling in his arms. And just as she began to come to herself, she heard him gasp, and felt him go hot all over in her arms, and with one or two strong thrusts he was done and subsiding into her arms as limp as a sleeping child.

A streetlight flickered on outside the house; Kate saw its light on the ceiling above the bed, reflecting through the kitchen window and the open door of the bedroom. Almost twilight, she thought. Some part of her said it was getting late but most of her didn't want to move. She felt warm and sleepy and relaxed, as she hadn't felt in days, weeks maybe. All the days of worrying about Tony, the fear of death or disfigurement, the horror stories about plague she'd heard--all of those dark thoughts dissolved in her as she lay in Tony's arms, his head on the pillow beside her, eyes closed.

He smiled, still with his eyes closed. "Sorry, I don't have any cigarettes, my dear," he said smugly.

She grinned. "What makes you think I need one?"

"Experience."

"Oh, you--" she laughed, and punched his arm, and he rolled off of her with a smirk.

"Confess, Kate. That was the best you've ever had," said Tony.

Insufferable, thought Kate. Insufferable...and endearing. "That was the best I ever had--" she said solemnly.

Tony grinned.

"--From a nearly dead man," she finished.

His eyes flew open, and his mouth made an O of surprise. She kissed him and his mouth laughed under hers and his arm went around her. She put her face against his chest to hear his heartbeat. He put his chin on her hair. "Kate," he sighed. "We should have done this long ago."

"You know, the only reason I joined NCIS was because I lost my last job," she said. "Remember why I lost that job? Because I got involved with a co-worker. Against the rules."

"Gibbs doesn't have any rules like that. It would make him a hell of a hypocrite."

She pressed her face into his chest hair. "But he'll know. As soon as he sees us, he'll know."

Tony pulled back and looked down at her. "You really care that much?"

"Yes, I do."

He rolled away, up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. "It's that bad to be hooked up with me, huh?" His voice held an edge.

She rose up to a sitting position, and ran her hand down his naked back. "It's not about you, Tony. I ... I wasn't expecting this. I need some time. Unless ..."

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes shadowed and vulnerable. "Unless?"

"Unless this is ... " She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "You know, just a one-time thing."

She had barely gotten the words out before his mouth was on hers and he was bearing her down to the bed under him. He kissed her fiercely, deeply, stormily. When he tore his mouth away, he fastened it on her jawline, her ear, her neck, her breast. And when she was completely breathless, he stopped and looked down at her. "One-time thing? Caitlin Todd, once a day would not be enough for me. Not with you."

She held her breath. Could he be saying what she thought he was saying? She felt her cheeks going hot. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God...

He kissed her slowly, then released her and sat up. She sat beside him on the bed, looking at their bare feet side by side. Slowly her hand stole into his and their fingers threaded together. She felt like she'd entered a new world. Tony was ... not what she'd expected. And she was feeling things she had not expected. Far from being get-it-out-of-her-system sex, this had become something else, something deeper and warmer and far, far more dangerous than she'd expected.

Tony yawned hugely, and gave her an apologetic look. "Woman, you're killing me," he said in some vague fake-movie accent. "First you feed me, then you seduce me--"

"I! What, no, you--"

"Then you talk constantly," he finished, grinning. "I need my sleep." He lay back on the bed, but held onto her hand. "Sleep with me."

Those three words almost pulled her over the edge--so simple, so profound. But Kate shook her head and got to her feet. "I ... This has been ... " She stopped, seeing the stricken look on his face. "I need some time, Tony," she said quietly.

He released her hand, but smiled. "Of course."

She picked up her underwear and began dressing. "I ... I'm glad this ... happened. But I need to think about ... a lot of things. I don't want anyone at NCIS to know about ... this."

"I don't kiss and tell, Kate."

"The hell you don't! I remember...oh." She caught the amused look in his eye and relaxed. "I don't either," she said. "Think we can fool Gibbs for more than ten minutes?"

"Gibbs? Sure. It's Proby I'm worried about," Tony sighed. "He's smarter than he looks."

Fully dressed now, Kate leaned over and put a hand on his forehead. "You okay? You just complimented Tim McGee."

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I'll be very discreet," he promised.

She saw he was sleepy, saw the lines in his face and the bags under his eyes. She kissed him softly on the forehead. "Go to sleep, Tony," she said. "Let's take our time, take things slow, okay? Nobody has to know about this."

"Sure," he said sleepily, his eyes closing already. "We have all the time in the world."

THE END