"Damn it, McGee, turn that damn thing off!"
Tim snakes his left arm out from under the warmth of the blankets, stretching back and a little beyond his
normal reach in a fumbling attempt to shut off the alarm clock. He cranes his head back, blinking blearily at
the bright digital numbers for a long second before his finger finally trips over the snooze button. Blessed
silence, at last. He pulls his arm back inside their cocoon and rolls onto his side. It's too early, half an
hour early, which is good, because he's drifting off already, ready to once and for all put a bullet in that
stupid robot mouse that kept leaving piles of marshmallows all over his keyboard, even if it means that Abby's
going to report him to the CIA...
"Tim," Tony growls, right in his ear. "Why am I awake at four freakin' thirty in the morning?"
"Get to work on time," Tim mumbles. He presses his face closer into the pillow, trying to find the perfect
divot again.
"Yes, but we'll make it just fine if we get up at five."
Tim sighs and rolls onto his back, irritated. He's awake now, and there's no chance he's going to be able to
claim those precious twenty-eight minutes remaining. "If you had just gone back to sleep, it wouldn't have
been a big deal."
"Some of us have cop-trained instincts, McGee. I'm a fine-tuned machine, a loaded gun. You can't just mess
with that kind of perfection."
Tim rolls his eyes, then scratches his stubble as he stares up at the pitch-black room. He really didn't want
to go short on sleep today, but now that he's awake, maybe he can get a little extra work in. Leaving shortly
after five should put them well ahead of the traffic, especially--
Tony pokes him in the side. Hard. "So is there a reason you set the alarm early, or did I just piss you off
last night?"
Tim frowns. He knows there was a reason. A good one. But he's too tired, the room's too dark, and the bed's
too warm for his brain to work at full speed. "I can't remember," he finally says. "I'm sorry, Tony."
Tony's quiet, long enough that Tim starts to think that maybe he's pissed. Or has fallen back asleep, which at
this point is going to piss off Tim. He sighs--more of a long, frustrated huff, really--and mentally
prepares for the shock of throwing off the blankets.
"You can make it up to me," Tony says, soft and low. He slides his hand up Tim's thigh, stopping just before
his fingers make contact with Tim's balls. Tim spreads his legs without thinking. "We have plenty of time."
Tim licks his lips. "We shouldn't. I'm sure I set that alarm for a good--"
"Uh-huh. 'Cause you wanted to do this." And Tony finally makes good on the promise his hand was making.
His palm is even warmer than the air trapped under the covers. Tim sucks in a lungful of cold air as Tony rolls
his balls gently, tugging just the way Tim likes. Just the way he likes to be revved up. He's already hard,
morning wood raring to go, and he can't remember at all why he was resisting Tony's suggestion.
"If you insist," he manages. He starts to shift to the side--he's a big believer in equal participation, after
all--but Tony pushes down on his hip bone. Tim stays put as Tony crawls downward. The blankets go with him,
unfortunately. Tim makes a halfhearted attempt to clutch at the sheet, but then Tony licks the head of his cock
and Tim's fingers forget how to work. It's like being dipped in peppermint schnapps. He's shivering, his whole
body protesting the cold--except for his groin. Tony's hands are sweaty, sliding against Tim's own sweaty
thighs, and his mouth is soft and wet and so, so hot, a jungle's worth of heat all concentrated right where he
wants it most.
His hands find their way to Tony's face. Tim brushes across the fine stubble of Tony's cheek, drifting down to
where his lips are stretched wide. Tony moves up slowly, and Tim moves with him, touching Tony, touching
himself. Tony pulls off and nips at Tim's fingers.
"Turn over," he says, and Tim rolls onto his stomach without protest. They're too good together to bring their
silly arguments into bed, and by now, Tim knows how great Tony's ideas are. Knows how much Tony knows him. Still, the
chill in the air isn't quite as sharp against his back, but the body-warmed sheets are a poor substitute for
Tony's mouth.
"Oh, geez," he yelps, because Tony's mouth is back. His tongue, actually, stroking slowly, leisurely. Playing
around, totally unconcerned that Tim's pretty sure there's a blood vessel in his head about to explode. He
squirms, trying to get more, trying to get away, but Tony just chuckles--and wow, does that feel good, too--and
keeps rimming him. Tim snags the edge of the bottom sheet with his index finger, and before long he's got both
hands curled around the fine Egyptian cotton. Like the high thread count is weighty enough to keep him from
floating away.
"Tony," he whines, because as much as he likes this, it's never quite enough to get him there. And God, he
wants to come. Sooner better than later.
"Hang on." Tony gets on his hands and knees, stretching over Tim to grab the lube and a condom out of the
nightstand. His cock, hard and heavy, brushes the crest of Tim's ass, and then it's gone again. Tony licks him
once, twice, and then pushes in two fingers coated with lube. "More?"
"You," Tim gasps out, and Tony's smart enough to understand him. He moves up, blanketing Tim at last with his
heat, and pushes in slowly. Tim curls his fingers tighter into the sheet. Breathes open-mouthed against the
cotton under his face, unable to think anything but yessss.
"God, Tim," Tony grunts, and that's a special thrill of its own. Tony starts rocking his hips, building slowly,
but Tim pushes back fast, forcing Tony to pick up the rhythm until they're meeting each other at a pounding pace.
Tim grabs his own cock, unable to wait any longer, and he comes, long pulses spilling hot over Tony's sheets.
Tony whimpers against Tim's neck. Then he's coming too, letting out a deep groan as he throbs inside Tim. They
collapse onto the bed together, Tony still blanketing him. Tim's not cold, though, not at all. A bead of sweat
runs down his face and he wipes it away before it can drip into his eye.
"Since I'm the one who had the brilliant idea, I'm taking the first shower," Tony says. He rubs his chin
between Tim's shoulder blades, heading off an itch Tim didn't know he had.
"What? I should go first, since I'm the one who set the alarm early."
Tony eases off of Tim. Eases out. "Yes, but you would have wasted the time with work or something."
"Fine." Endorphins and the early hour are already tugging him back towards sleep. He rolls onto his side and
pulls the mess of bedding on top of him. "Wake me when you're done."
"Will do," Tony says.
There's still something in the back of Tim's mind, something left undone that's nagging at him, but then Tony
presses a kiss to his temple.
Later, he thinks, and drifts back to sleep.