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It started in the pre-dawn of the morning. In a cheap motel with orange bedspreads and brown curtains. Whether they were brown in color or in filth, Timothy McGee did not know or care to find out. He was disgusted that Tony DiNozzo could just flop down on the nasty flea-bitten bed and be asleep almost instantly. In Tony's defense, it had been a long very involved case that ended up taking them out of state.
Their combined exhaustion was palpable. No one had even lifted an eyebrow at the choice or lack of choice of motel. So eager were they for some much-needed sleep.
It was coughing that pulled Tim from the deep dregs of slumber. He could see Tony sitting up on the edge of his bed. Head bent down, hands on his knees. Coughing and gasping for air.
McGee's first instinct was to jump up and to help his friend in any way he could. But something held him back, faining sleep.
Tony lurched off the bed hand braced against the wall as he searched in his overnight bag. After a few minutes, he pulled an inhaler out. Tim heard the hiss of medication. The coughing eased, and Tony's breathing evened out after a while.
"I know you’re awake." Tony's voice was raw from the coughing and exhaustion. McGee remained quiet. He was acutely uncomfortable, unsure if he should continue his charade of sleep.
"Look Tim." McGee’s anxiety rose with Tony's use of his first name.
"I only need it sometimes. And this place is so filthy that I'm surprised you’re not coughing. So, can we just keep this between us?"
McGee could hear the fear in his voice.
"Yeah, sure Tony." McGee did not sound convincing.
"You know I could lose my position as a field agent." It was a statement, not a question.
"I know Tony...promise I won’t say anything."
"Thanks, Tim."
"How long have you been using it?"
Getting no answer Tim looked to the other bed. Tony had fallen back to sleep. McGee turned on his side wondering what to do with this information.