Words from the Wine
by channelD
written as: a New Year's Eve seasonal story
rating: K plus
genre: drama, maybe fluff, depending on your outlook
pairing:McKate
setting: season 2
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disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.
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You couldn't go wrong by attending Harrison's New Year's Eve party, so they all said at NCIS. Harrison and his wife had been throwing such a party at their home in Virginia for 29 years now. All NCIS agents—Harrison was one, himself—were invited, as were their spouses and partners, and as was the Director and select members of Intel, MTAC, and the like. Harrison, a big bear of a man, personally answered the door to all comers and had no qualms about barring admittance to those not on the invite list.
Year after year people came; people who had come to realize that this was a good, comfortable party; not fancy, but fun, with people they all knew. There would be little embarrassment; little acting out; little of doing things that one would regret the next day. No hanky-panky. Everyone knew each other, and everyone knew that they would have to work with these people the day after New Year's, and all the rest of the year.
Nothing could possibly go wrong.
Except…
Agents were only human, and humans sometimes inserted their size 10 shoes into their size 9 mouths.
- - - - -
"Caitlin! Come in; come in!" Harrison greeted Kate Todd at the door, and waved her in so he could shut out the cold.
"Thanks! Thanks for having me, Harrison," Kate smiled. It was her second New Year's Eve at the Harrisons'; she had loved last year's. It was one party for which one did not scrounge up a date. Singletons never felt alone here, for they were too busy having fun with their friends.
"My pleasure, child." He gladly accepted the bottle of champagne she brought, as well as the plate of brownies, and gave her a hearty slap on the back. His smiling wife motioned to her to take her coat to the guest room and throw it on the bed with the others. At the end of the night, if they were lucky, everyone would leave with the right coat. If not…well, that was where seeing them at work soon would come in handy.
It was just after 6 p.m. Kate was neither early nor late. She scanned the Harrisons' large living and dining room areas, in which about 30 people (so far) mingled, with cans of soda, bottles of beer, glasses of wine, or mugs of coffee, tea, or hot cider in hand. There was Director Morrow, chatting amiably with some of the senior agents; one hand reaching into the bowl of mixed nuts. There was Chisley and his wife, and Rohlwing and her significant other, and Nunez, Van Allen, and Timmons; good friends all, sans their spouses, who were having their own little chat across the room. No one from Kate's team was here, though, and Kate felt a trifle conspicuous for that. Gibbs eschewed parties; Tony, as he had last year, claimed to have a very important date with a starlet or some such other gorgeous woman; and Tim—now that she thought of it, she couldn't remember if the Boy Wonder had said he was coming or not. Maybe she'd never even asked him about it. He was too shy to volunteer such information himself.
Well, either he would come, or he wouldn't. She wouldn't worry about that. Although…he was rather cute; with an appeal more toward her mothering side than toward her take me, wild man side (the latter of which she had always assumed was the true her). Could one really be attracted toward someone whom one wanted to cuddle because he looked that loveable? (And hope that that cuddling would lead to something more?)
Heck, yes.
"Would you like some wine, Caitlin?" Mrs. Harrison stood at her side, beaming, holding a bottle of something red and a small tray of glasses.
"Um, no thanks; I think I'll stick to apple cider for now," Kate said. Although she had accepted the Harrisons' offer to let her stay for the night—about 8-10 guests usually did; those who didn't want to limit their drinking or who didn't want to be on the roads late on 'amateur night', as the bartenders called it—she saw no point in getting plastered. A glass or two of champagne at midnight would be all she'd need.
And then…
The doorbell rang again, and Kate glanced that way to see who the new arrival was. He looked adorable.
Tim McGee.
Kate caught her hostess' arm. "I think I will have some wine, after all."
"Of course, my dear," said Mrs. Harrison pleasantly, as if such behavior was the most natural thing in the world.
"Thank you. Thank you." But when Kate turned back in the direction of the door, Tim was nowhere to be seen. She wondered, then, if she had imagined him…wished him into existence. Her heart sank, and she downed the wine with a few gulps. Get a grip, Todd.
And then…there he was again, coming from down the hallway that led to the guest room. Of course! He'd only disappeared from sight to put away his coat. Poor fellow. His coat, as Kate had often noticed (but never commented on), was a little threadbare; the cuffs had known nicer times, though it couldn't have been a very classy coat to begin with. It was something probably several years old, maybe dating back to his MIT days. He may have considered a new coat a luxury, and it was true that entry-level special agents were paid peanuts. But still, it was a shame.
Yet it added to the perception she had of him as waif-like. Someone in need of a little comforting.
I need another drink.
She slipped into the kitchen, where Mrs. Harrison was pulling a pre-made tray of cheese and fruit out of the refrigerator. "Um, I'll just help myself to another glass of wine, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, my dear. I believe you had the Chardonnay? That's all gone now, but do try the Shiraz; the bottle at the far left on the counter. It's quite nice."
Kate wasn't much of a drinker, and her wine knowledge was very basic: some wines are white; others are a dark red. Vaguely she remembered that a few were instead pink. How confusing. The first glass she'd had, the Chardonnay, was a white one. Too bad that was all gone. But this wine, this Shiraz, was nice; very fruity. Nice wine. Stick with me; I may need your help tonight.
Mrs. Harrison turned back, and smiled again at her. What am I doing? Kate thought. Since when do I need a crutch?
She couldn't answer that. Instead, she left the kitchen and picked her way through the crowd slowly, searching—
"Kate! Hi!"
Turning, she tried to put a pleasant, unassuming smile on her face, but this was impossible due to the slight buzz she had from the wine. "Hi, Timmy!" 'Timmy'. OMG, Todd. "McGee," she amended, bringing herself into work-casual mode. "Good to see you here."
"I wasn't planning on coming," he said, a little shyly. "I'm terrible at parties and small talk."
"I think you're doing just fine now," she said, boldly, and then bit her tongue. "So, you decided to come anyway. Evidently."
"Agent Myers told me it was a nice, informal gathering, and I didn't have to dress up."
Kate noticed that he would hardly be considered to be informal, unlike many of the people who were wearing sweaters and jeans. Tim wore his familiar brown sports coat over a white shirt and one of his few neckties. A few men, such as the Director and Harrison himself, also wore ties, so Tim didn't really stand out. Not that she could complain; she wore a dress, having always felt that New Year's Eve parties were dress-up affairs.
She noticed the sparkling gold drink in his hand. "Ah, into the champagne already?" she grinned.
"No," he said, blushing a little. "I'm on medication for that bronchial infection, still. So no alcohol for me. This is ginger ale."
"Oh." That was distressing news. She had counted on matching him, drink for drink. People did silly things under drink, it was true; but when one of a pair was stone cold sober, the other person had more of a chance of looking like an idiot.
I should just go home.
Suddenly Tim was swept up in a knot of other geeky agents, and pulled away with them to discuss something that would sound like babble to non-geeks. Kate sighed, and finished the last of her wine.
- - - - -
The Harrisons still had their Christmas tree and all the seasonal decorations up. The house was alive with holly wrapped here, there, and everywhere. Festive candles held stately places on window sills, and luscious scents of the Harrisons' cooking frenzy…from the meaty sweetness of turkey and the tang of chili, to the luscious baked dough of pies and the cinnamon and nutmeg of cookies—and was that fresh-baked bread?…lingered in the air. The Harrisons loved to feed people, and attendees at the New Year's Eve party would not go away hungry.
Kate didn't want to pig out, but like most everyone else, she didn't refuse when Harrison announced that dinner is served around 7 p.m. She looked around for Tim, thinking she could sit with him at dinner. Maybe tell him some stories from the good times had here last year. Yes, that would be a nice thing to do, and he would, no doubt, appreciate it.
But he was already seated with a group around a card table, and appeared to be enjoying himself. Kate sighed. The food was delicious, but not being able to ring in the new year with someone special (although that was not the point of the Harrisons' party)…that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn't say no when the person next to her offered her another glass of wine.
- - - - -
The rest of the evening after dinner went pleasantly. Kate almost forgot about Tim as she joined in conversations with her co-workers, played a round of Magic: The Gathering, looked through the Harrisons' collection of art books, chatted with Director Morrow and Mrs. Morrow, and took in a few minutes of stargazing with other brave souls on the patio.
But Tim was never far from her mind. How ironic that someone could be in close proximity to someone else, and yet have them seem so far away. Yet she worked just a few feet from Tim at NCIS, and never had the courage to…
You brought this on yourself, Todd. If you had made a move toward him before the party…but you didn't. And now he thinks of you only as a teammate. Mentally, she kicked herself.
- - - - -
Around 11:30 p.m. the Harrisons started opening bottles of champagne. It would take a while to get several bottles open and champagne glasses filled and handed out, and some people, such as those who only drank it once a year, needed to "get back into" drinking the stuff by taking a few careful sips before midnight.
"Five minutes!" someone chirped. Harrison switched on the TV, and the 50 or so guests crowded into the Harrisons' living room to watch the revelers in Times Square, New York City.
Champagne was in the hands of nearly all of the guests. Even Kate, who secretly did not care for the bubbly liquid (even with the raspberry in the bottom of the glass) nor for the headache it always gave her, had a glass. Tim, she noticed, had a glass that resembled the ginger ale he'd had earlier in the evening.
Although doubting she'd have any luck, she slowly, carefully wiggled her way through the crowd until she was within an arm's reach of Tim. She didn't think her sigh was audible, but suddenly he turned in her direction, and smiled.
"Hi, Kate!" he said. "I haven't seen you much this evening."
"Oh, I've been around," she said lazily. "Catching up with folks. You know."
"Two minutes!"
"The old year's fading fast," he remarked.
"Good riddance," she said, taking a sip. "Got any resolutions for the new year?"
He shrugged. "I'd like to meet someone. Someone nice."
"One minute!!"
"Maybe you already have," the champagne said for her, in a purr.
"You think so?" he asked; an innocent, and completely sober, babe. "Someone I know?"
"Twenty seconds!!"
"I'm positive. I am."
The rest of the crowd picked up the chant along with the TV. "…Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four!..."
Kate couldn't wait any longer, but grabbed Tim about the shoulders and her lips about his.
"Happy New Year!!!" Party whistles were blown, cheers went up, the Christmas crackers that someone had donated were popped, and a few people noticed that in addition to spouses and partners kissing, there was also one unexpected couple in a corner smooching; his face rather pink.
- - - - -
Mrs. Harrison handed Kate a spare blanket, and spoke softly, given that some people were already asleep. "You'll be in this guest bedroom, my dear, with Suzie Chelton. It gets a little chilly sometimes, so you may need this additional cover."
"Thanks," Kate said, feeling ever-so-tired. It was now past 1 a.m. The party guests who were not staying overnight had gone home. The overnighters had stayed up with their hosts for a little while, but there came a time when sleep was more important than the good company of friends. This was that time.
"Louisa, I'm so sorry…about me and Tim McGee…I don't know what got into me…I'm so embarrassed…"
Looking at her mildly, Mrs. Harrison said, "I don't think any of us even knew that you two were dating, Caitlin."
"We're not! That's what's so embarrassing! We've never…"
"Ah."
Mrs. Harrison was a motherly type; one Kate felt she could confide in. "I guess…I've wanted there to be something between McGee and me, and when I saw him here tonight, I…"
"And the wine you had; it was probably a co-conspirator." There was no accusation in Mrs. Harrison's voice, just a smile and a statement of fact.
"Definitely. I would have kept my hands off him if I hadn't been drinking."
"That's why Bob and I never have the mistletoe up when we have this party." Mrs. Harrison said. "Oh, you wanted something for your headache. Here's a cup; you'll find aspirin on the counter in the bathroom. Anyway…no, we don't encourage a lot of New Year's kisses. You all have to go back to work with each other the day after tomorrow, and we all want you to still be friends and back here with us next year. You'll have to work out your relationships on your own time."
"I'll never be able to face McGee again," Kate said, feeling her face flame…again…for at least the fourth time since midnight. "He'll think the worst of me for embarrassing him like that. I don't know how I can go back to work on the second!"
Mrs. Harrison tutted. "I don't think most men think like that, dear. Not after just a kiss."
Kate shook her head. "Not McGee. He's the shy, sensitive type. I'm not positive he's even ever been kissed. I am so stupid!!"
Her mind flashed back to the scene, right after the kiss, which had lasted for several seconds after the stroke of midnight. Tim had been the one to pull away, and he looked embarrassed—certainly, his face was pink. His expression had been a mixture of surprise and happiness. Maybe.
All of the alcohol had then fled from the nook in Kate's brain where it had taken up residence, leaving her flushed, aware of what had happened, and shocked by her actions. With a voiceless stammer, she had darted from the room, and had gone to lock herself in a bathroom for a good five minutes' cry.
Mrs. Harrison said, "There's a quote I heard this evening. Let's see…Oh. 'It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return, but what is more painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let the person know how you feel.' "
"That's beautiful," said Kate. "And just how I feel. Who said that?"
"Tim McGee. A little while after you'd run out. He thinks the quote is anonymous, but he'd have to think about that. Maybe he can remember who came up with it. He has a romantic soul, I think."
Kate choked on a laugh. "Maybe…maybe I could find the courage…after all. I've always wanted a, a soul mate who liked, ah, nice quotes. Like I do. If only I could see him soon…"
"You can ask him over breakfast." Mrs. Harrison dimpled. "He's staying overnight; didn't you know?" She herded the astonished, grinning Caitlin to the women's guest room. "Sweet dreams, my dear."
-END-