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It started with the thump that came from the living room. There weren't any storms outside or anything, and neither Nick nor Clay had heard someone trying to enter the apartment. They shared a look when they realized that Tim hadn't come into bed and must have still been in the living room from their movie night last night. He had fallen asleep on the couch, after all. Clay got out of bed first, padding out into the living room and turning on the smallest light they had out there, a battery-powered "candle" sitting in a ceramic bowl. He looked around for Tim but didn't see any sign of him immediately. Strange, considering he was the tallest of the three, even taller than Clay. And Clay had a difficult time hiding anywhere.
When he heard the whimper under the table, he knew that something had to be going on that he hadn't come across before. Slowly, Clay crept around the table, into the space between the couch and where the whimpering was coming from. Clay frowned. Tim had somehow managed to wedge himself underneath the table and into a tiny ball. "Tim, you okay?" Clay whispered.
Tim didn't respond, just whimpered into his knees more.
Nick came into the room and asked, "What're you doing, Clay?"
"Tim somehow got himself under the table," Clay said.
"What?" Nick asked, coming closer until he was next to Clay, peering between the table legs.
Tim was looking at them both like they were strangers, or potential adversaries, and Clay wondered just what might be going on. "Tim, can you come out from under there?" Clay murmured.
Furiously, Tim shook his head.
"You stuck, love?" Clay asked.
He got a grunted negative in return for that.
Nick was sending skeptical glances Clay's way. Clay ignored him for the time being. "Then why can't you come out?"
"The...the bad...the bad guys might...they might see me," Tim whispered back.
"What bad guys?" Clay asked.
"The ones from...back there," Tim whimpered.
Back there? Clay mouthed to Nick.
Paraguay, Nick mouthed back.
Clay nodded. "Love, you're not in Paraguay anymore. You're back in DC. Do you remember?"
"I s-saw them," Tim insisted quietly. "Th-they were here, they were hurting you, an' Nick, an' everyone, and I had to sit there and watch or they'd kill you."
"That was just a dream, love," Clay quietly reassured. "They can't hurt you here."
Tim sniffled. "G-Gibbs used to...used to make sure...that I was okay. I dunno what happened, but he doesn't anymore..."
Clay frowned. "What do you mean, Gibbs used to make sure you were okay? Would he call you?"
Tim shook his head. "I would go...to his place, and he'd let me sit while he worked on his boat. It was nice to know that he was there. But now he's not."
Clay didn't remember any of this ever happening. He turned to Nick. "Did you know about this?"
Nick had a spark of recognition in his eyes. "Apparently before my time, Tim would have different little things he did as a junior agent to calm down. Usually it was a little weird but not out of place. He apparently brought in a coloring book to work one day and would color when he got stressed. He had little desk toys he would sometimes get invested in. Gibbs said that one time when Tim was in his basement, he fell asleep sucking his thumb like a little kid."
Clay frowned. "What does that mean, though? How do we help him?"
Nick hummed in thought, before gesturing for Clay to shift over a little. Clay did so, and Nick sat on the couch. "Hey, Tim. You remember who we are, right?"
Hesitantly, Tim nodded. "Yeah. You're Nick, he's Clay."
"Right," Nick said, in a voice that sounded almost...out of place to Clay. "We're your boyfriends, remember?"
Again, Tim nodded.
"Well, we keep each other safe. That's part of how we care for each other. If we're here, we won't let the bad guys get to you, okay? I promise," Nick said.
Tim looked about ready to come out from under the table, but was still hesitating.
"Tim," Nick continued, in his soft voice. "I'm thinking that you age regress, right?"
Despite looking like a deer caught in headlights, Tim nodded.
"Well, I have some experience with this sort of thing," Nick said softly. "And if you want, and if you need...I could be your Daddy, at least for the night, to keep the bad guys away. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Tim said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?" Nick asked. "Come out from under the table, kid, it has to be comfier on the couch."
Clay watched with amazement as that single invitation got Tim out from under the table and into Nick's lap in seconds. He moved to sit on the couch too and Tim, from where he was perched on Nick, grabbed one of Clay's hands. "So you clearly know more about this than I do," Clay said to Nick. "Care to share?"
"Basically Tim acts like a kid sometimes to help with stress. He got scared, and regressed on accident, is my guess. Nightmares can do that," Nick said simply.
"Huh," Clay said. "Will he be able to go into work tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably," Nick said. "If anything, this might help him sleep better."
"Oh, if that's true then I'm all for it," Clay said, giving Tim's hand a squeeze.
Tim turned red and buried his head in Nick's chest. "Aw, someone's shy," Nick teased, running a hand through Tim's rather messy hair.
"Clay?" Tim asked in a timid voice that had Clay's heart breaking just at hearing it.
"Yeah?" Clay asked.
"If..." Tim swallowed. "If Nick's my Daddy...could you be my Papa?"
Clay was touched at the offer and lightly kissed the top of Tim's hand. "It would be my honor, Tim."
Tim shyly grinned before yawning, loud and surprisingly high-pitched.
"I think it's past time that little kids should go to bed, don't you, Clay?" Nick asked.
"Well, ours certainly seems very tired," Clay said.
Tim whined and Nick laughed. "Very tired. Come on, baby, you can make it to bed."
"Uh-uh," Tim whined.
"Yeah, you can," Nick insisted. "Come on, off my lap, I'll cuddle you all you want in bed, but you gotta walk there first."
Tim didn't move, didn't say anything for half a minute. Then, he asked, so softly and with every ounce of terror he must have felt, "What if the bad guys come back?"
Nick looked at a loss for what to say, so Clay stepped in. "Hey, they won't," he soothed. "After all, you have a Daddy and a Papa now, right? They won't dare try and hurt you with us on your side."
Tim looked him over, presumably for any signs of deceit, and Clay willed himself to looked determined and assured in a situation where he was flying blind. Eventually, Tim nodded. "Mkay, Papa."
And if that wasn't the cutest thing that Clay had ever experienced! Nick coerced Tim off his lip just long enough for the three of them to get into bed, Tim sandwiched between Nick and Clay, as all three of them fell asleep together.
The next morning, they didn't wake up to a thump, but a panicked gasp from the middle of the bed. Clay sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking over at Tim, who was staring back at him in wide-eyed horror. "Something wrong, love?" he asked.
"You know." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Nick piped up from the other side of the bed, voice hazy with sleep. "And we don't mind."
"You...don't? Mind?" Tim asked, looking beyond confused. "Everyone--before, even when I went to Gibbs' I just--I don't...know what I'm trying to say...I felt like an inconvenience."
Clay grabbed one of Tim's hands, the same one he had held last night, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll never be an inconvenience to us, love, understand? You never could be."
"But..." Tim's voice was wavering, almost sounding like it had last night. "I woke you up in the middle of the night. And sometimes I cry for no reason. And I get really tired really fast off the clock. And-"
"-We love you for it," Nick finished, giving Tim a stern look. "No arguing about this one. We love you. All of you. There's nothing that you have to hide from us, all right?"
Uncertainly, Tim nodded his head.
Clay grinned. "Come on, then. It's my turn to make breakfast, you can help if you want while Nick hogs the bathroom."
Nick made an offended noise and Tim chuckled, getting out of bed with Clay and heading to the kitchen. Clay thought the conversation from before was over until Tim said, "Thanks."
"For what, love?" Clay asked.
Tim's ears turned red as he mumbled, "For agreeing to be my papa," into the refrigerator.
Clay hugged him from behind and kissed his temple. "Love, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I can't guarantee I'll be perfect at this, but I promise to try."
"That's all I ask," Tim said, turning his head for a kiss.
Clay gave it to him. "All right, then. What should we have for breakfast?"