After a breakneck day in NCIS, Special Agent McGee decided out of the blue to relax in a bar. Even though he is not a drinker, he does occasionally enjoys a beer with his colleague and friend Tony DiNozzo, or even have a team evening after a gruesome case with Ziva and Abby.
Today however he decides to go on his own, he stops his Porsche close to the bar where the team usually meets, walks to the door and takes a seat on the bar desk besides a young woman, sitting ramrod straight staring at glass of vodka on ice. He glances at her and gives her a brief head shake, which she reciprocates.
After glancing at the menu, he finally decides on a Cuba Libre, looks around the bar and is surprised when the stranger interrupts his thoughts.
"You are not a drinker," She says with conviction.
"Excuse me?"
"You are not a drinker, and whenever you do drink, Cuba Libre is not your drink of choice."
Tim turns and really looks at the stranger. Late twenties to early thirties, long wavy hair past her neck on a simple twisted pigtail which reminds him a little of Ziva's, natural tanned skin that proclaims that somewhere, one of her forefathers were latino descendants, and a melodic accent that identified her as someone who spent a long time on the West Coast. However what was most striking on the stranger was how tense her shoulders were, how her fingers were tensed around the vodka glass and the sadness that seemed to pour out of her every pore.
"No, I'm not a drinker," Mcgee says "but neither are you." It was an educated guess.
After a pause, the stranger silently agrees. Before Mcgee can say anything else, a very loud drunk pops on the other side of the stranger, and tries to pick her up.
"Hey beauty, what a babe like you is doing alone in a place like this, let me pay you a drink."
He starts talking and puts a hand on her shoulder. She immediately tenses even more, as if that was even possible, and very slowly turns her chair towards the drunk and whispers in a menacingly voice:
"If you value your hand, you will remove it NOW." The drunk tries again to say something else but she catches his hand and twists it painfully.
"Ok ok, if you wanna stay with the geek, it is your choice" says the drunk as he goes away. When he is out of hearing distance, he murmurs "bitch".
Mcgee is watching the scene happen before his own eyes, and sees how the woman struggles to have a better grasp on her emotions again.
"So… Bad day, uh?" He asks.
"Bad year," she looks at him and chuckles. There is a very small smile, but Mcgee can see that it does not reach her eyes and at every breath she takes she is trying very hard not to cry.
His drink arrives and he raises his glass. "I propose a toast"
"A toast?" She sounds mildly interested.
"Yep." He looks in her eyes and thinks that she does have gorgeous eyes; big doe like eyes, surrounded by the type of eyelashes girls usually spend fortunes to have.
"What kind of toast?"
"To a better year."
"To a better year."
They touch their glasses, and sip their drinks.
NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS
Two hours later, hands are desperately trying to find the keys. Once found, one hand is struggling to fit the keys in the lock, at the same time the other one holds firmly silky strands of hair, trying to better the angle for a desperate attack of mouth and tongue.
The door finally opens, and two forms enter the small apartment without disengaging of each other. The man closes the door with his feet, and supports the woman against the door while he attacks voraciously her neck. She is petite close to him, and in order to give him better access she jumps and puts her legs around his waist. He moans but does not stop his attack.
"I don't usually do this," his voice is muffed by her neck.
"Uh?" Her brain is on standstill, not fully able to grasp what he said.
McGee stops the attack on her neck and looks at her face for a second. Her big brown eyes are smoky, and the sadness that was present during the whole evening is temporarily gone.
"I don't usually pick strangers in bars," he explains again. "I don't usually do one night stands."
She pauses for a second, breathing deeply and processing the info he gave her.
She smiles and starts kissing him.
"Four years," kiss on the neck "seven months," kiss on the lips "seventeen days," another breathtaking kiss with lots of tongue "fourteen hours West Coast time."
McGee's brain tries to process the info along with the stimuli, and takes him some seconds to question her:
"Four year since what?"
"Since the last time I've had sex."
They keep on kissing and McGee suddenly stops, grabs her shoulder, and stares at her face asking astonished:
"Four years?" His voice is loaded with incredulity. How a gorgeous woman like that stayed alone for so long?
"Four years, seven months, seventeen days and" she looks briefly at her watch "fourteen hours give or take." She smiles at his incredulous look. "LA time. I would have to redo the math for DC time."
"But … " She silences him with a small finger on his lips
"Who is counting anyway?"
Both smile and resume their kissing. McGee gets a better grip on her body and carries her to his bedroom and closes the door.
And as they say, so it begins...
Author's Chapter Notes:
McGee meets a stranger who will change his world. First in the Joy Buchanan series. McGee/OFC