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Tim turns off his computer with a sigh, feeling the adrenaline drain of having finished the final piece of paperwork on a week-long case.
It’s not too late, the squad room is still buzzing but Parker had told them to go home as soon as they finish, then disappeared off into Vance’s office. Jess had finally left a few minutes ago when Tim insisted he’d only be a few more minutes then home to his family and Nick…
Glancing over, Tim finds Nick lent against the edge of his desk, absently throwing a ball up in the air and catching it repeatedly as he stares into space, exhaustion clear on his face.
Packing his bag and flicking off his desk lamp, he walks over as unassumingly as he can and leans next to him.
“Nick-” he keeps his voice low, knocking their shoulders together lightly- “don’t go home to an empty apartment. Come to my place.”
“Nah, I was thinking I might go out, there’s a new club I want to try.”
He tries to sound enthusiastic but there’s weariness seeping all through his voice and he’s still staring unblinkingly at a random spot on the wall.
Resting a hand on his shoulder, Tim protests gently, “Come on man, you’re exhausted.”
“So are you,” Nick reasons, not meeting his eye, “you have the twins, I can’t add to that.”
“You think you’re more work than the twins?” he raises an eyebrow in teasing challenge, “if anything I’m asking you to do more by hanging out with them.”
Despite an amused light appearing in his eyes, Nick still doesn’t look too sure.
Tim pushes a little harder, knocking their shoulders together again, “Don’t go home and stare at the wall. You know all that’s going to happen is the tiredness turns into a spiral.”
“Wow okay,” Nick splutters, “don’t call me out like that, bro.”
Chuckling, Tim shrugs and offers honestly, “I would’ve done the same thing. Before I had a family to come home to.”
“I know but coming home to Delilah-”
“I’m not talking about Delilah,” he cuts him off, shaking his head, “before Dee. You think you were the only one to go round to Gibbs’ after a long case and take a nap on his sofa?” scoffing, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, “no way. Tony, Ziva, Abby, Jimmy, even Ducky on occasion. Sometimes the whole team ended up there and it turned into an impromptu sleepover.”
He smiles, it’s sort of sad but fond. Nostalgic. He’s on the same team but it’s changed so much over the years.
Pushing away the memories of times passed (but not lost, he refuses to believe they’re lost), he watches Nick’s expression morph from incredulousness to understanding to sadness with a harsh edge running through it.
“But Gibbs isn’t here anymore.”
His voice isn’t angry so much as resigned.
“No, he’s not,” Tim agrees evenly like it doesn’t still eat away at him – eighteen years, he’s not going to just move on- “I am, though. My family isn’t just Delilah and the kids, Nick. You’re part of it, whether you like it or not.”
Nick blinks at him, looking like he’d quite like to take Tim seriously but isn’t sure how.
“I’m stuck with you, huh?” he jokes but Tim simply raises an eyebrow.
“Have been for a long time now.”
He’s not sure exactly when it had happened, some time in their first year of working together, only cemented by the whole chaotic (traumatic) mess of Paraguay.
Regardless of the specifics, they’re brothers.
Nick holds his gaze for a moment then claps him on the back in silent reciprocation of the sentiment.
“Hmm,” he taps his chin in exaggerated contemplation, “what food are you having?”
“I’m cooking-“
“No, absolutely not,” Nick interrupts, shaking his head decisively, “we’re going to the store on the way home, I’m making enchiladas.”
Wondering how they did such a quick one-eighty, Tim protests, “You don’t have to-“
“I like cooking,” he insists with a shrug.
Incredulous, Tim repeats, “You like cooking?”
“I like cooking.”
The glare on Nick’s face is telling him quite clearly what will happen if he makes any comments and he quickly holds up his hands in surrender, only just biting back his grin as he relents.
“Enchiladas it is.”
Nick closes the oven door and accepts the soda Tim offers him from his perch on a bar stool with a grateful smile.
Leaning against the countertop, he takes a sip and a comfortable silence that’s developed from years of spending hours on stakeouts together falls over them.
They can hear Delilah reading the twins a story in the next room – something about caterpillars eating everything, he’s not quite sure, he’s used to Vic and her older-children (teenager, she would argue) books – and Tim has this little, slightly sappy, smile on his face that makes Nick think.
“Hey, McGee?”
“Yeah?” Tim turns to him, somehow giving Nick his full attention while also keeping tuned in to his family next door.
Tilting his head, he asks curiously, “How are you?”
“Good, you?”
And Nick doesn’t know whether to laugh or grimace at how automatic a response it is.
“No, I mean really. How are you really? Because this year has been…” he trails off, shrugging helplessly and Tim stares at him for a long moment before setting down his drink with a sigh.
“It’s been a long year.”
His voice, his posture, everything is infused with exhaustion. It’s always been there, Nick thinks, but it’s like he’s only letting himself show, acknowledge or possibly even truly feel it now.
“You held us together when everything was falling apart and everyone was leaving,” Nick tells him honestly, knowing full well that he would have self-destructed long before he had and wouldn’t be getting better again now if not for Tim, “and, I mean, you are still kinda holding the team together.”
There’s a long moment of silence as Tim frowns at the floor, then stares straight at him, an unreadable, heavy look in his eyes that’s only lifted by what Nick thinks is a hint of gratitude.
“We’re all holding each other,” he corrects simply, then quirks an amused eyebrow, “or are you not making dinner for my entire family right now?”
Nick allows himself a chuckle then shakes his head, there’s no way he’s letting him off that easily, “Yeah but all that time, you never…” suddenly realising he doesn’t actually know how to ask what he’s trying to, he frowns, “I mean it was hard, I know it was hard on you but you just pushed through and now, now that it’s over and everything is settling, how are you doing?”
For once, Tim actually holds his gaze. There’s a pause as he seems to decide what to say then he nods.
“Better.”
His voice is sincere, so much so that Nick can’t help but raise a surprised eyebrow, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he takes a sip of his drink, setting it down again with a half-smile and Nick is beginning to think he’s just seeing what he wants to when it seems like some of the weight visibly lifts from his shoulders, “everything feels slightly easier to deal with now, like I’m not worried that every time I wake up it will have all got worse.”
He hadn’t realised that had been a fear, if he’s honest, but he can’t say he’s surprised. Tim has always been someone to worry about the ‘what ifs,’ even if he does generally try and keep those anxieties too himself most of the time (more of the time than is good for him).
Sensing there’s something else he wants to say by the way he’s thoughtfully running his finger around the rim of his can, Nick encourages, “That’s good man, that’s good.”
“But… nothing ever really slows down, does it?-” his gaze fades away, like he’s getting lost in himself- “we just have lulls. Years of stability.”
“You think there’s going to be another shake-up?” Nick frowns, trying to push away the mild dread that fills him at the idea. He’s not someone who can deal with contemplating the ‘what ifs.’
His voice seems to shake Tim out of whatever he’d slipped into and he clears his throat, shrugging lightly, “Eventually. I mean, Parker will retire eventually and Jess… I don’t know,” there’s a resigned sadness on his face as he sighs, “she’s part of the family but she’s still early in her career, I think she’ll end up moving on.”
Nick grimaces, he knows it’s likely but at the same time, “I don’t really understand that.”
“That’s because me and you have found everything we’re looking for right here-“ it’s true, as much as he’d loved undercover work, he couldn’t have kept doing the lone wolf thing forever- “we’re here for the team, however much it shifts,” he smiles humourlessly, “as we lose people, as they move on.”
He’s thinking about all the people he’s lost. Nick knows, because he is too.
People who have been taken: Clayton. People who have chosen to leave: Gibbs, Ellie, his dad, Abby, even Jack.
He tries not to dwell on how long the list is, simply that they’d had their reasons – some of them more forgivable than others in his eyes – and, as Jimmy had told him and he forces himself to keep turning over and over in his mind… it’s got nothing to do with him.
“I don’t understand but I can respect it. I respect Knight.”
He respects Jess for many reasons, one of them being that she would never just run and cut them out of her life with no explanation.
And yes, he knows that’s a very specific fear but it’s happened to him two and a half times, with the letters he receives fairly regularly from Gibbs being the only thing stopping him from rolling that number up to a full three.
“She’ll still be family,” Tim adds, then he suddenly seems to realise the direction they’re headed in and visibly shakes himself out of the spiral, “and she isn’t gone yet, we are talking purely in hypotheticals here.”
“You’re saying we should just enjoy the moment,” Nick asks, amused and a light seems to flick on in Tim’s eyes as he stands.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he claps a hand on his shoulder, “isn’t the present all we’ve got? The future is undecided, the past is set in stone so the present is all we have to live for.”
“Oh, that was quite good, very poetic,” Nick enthuses, “hey, you should be a writer!”
The deadpan look Tim shoots him is enough to send him bursting into laughter, all heaviness not forgotten but placed aside.