a/n: so this is a cute little foray back into the Benjamin 'verse (stories: Deja Vu and Les Petites Choses) and it takes place sort of at the end of Deja Vu. it's christmas-y and humerous and basically as fluffy as marshmallows and unicorns so, enjoy! ~
Christmas Eve, 2000
It was the strangest Christmas Eve she had ever encountered; it was strange in a way that was both fitting and unexpected, as soothing as it was incomprehensible. It seemed natural and unnatural simultaneously; she knew how she had gotten here, but it wasn't something she had ever imagined or anticipated for herself: she had never thought she would spend a cozy Christmas Eve in front of a roaring fire—and this fire defined the roaring of those in the stories—with a brightly lit, antique tree perfuming the air, and a family of her own.
It had always just been her and her father, and then for years it had just been her, and as a child she'd been an old soul who had never thought she'd have children or get married or find tradition in any facet—and last year, if she had been told she would end up keeping the baby, and she would give up her high-ranking position overseas to return to working with Gibbs—she'd have laughed in both disbelief and fear.
She smirked now and shifted, crossing her legs and rolling her shoulders back. Her muscles were stiff, and she winced good-naturedly at the slight pain in her neck. What she had this Christmas season—it wasn't exactly tradition, but it was just the right amount of comfortable non-tradition.
Jenny licked her lips and stroked her fingers through her son's silky down of hair, careful not to scratch him with the diamond ring on her finger—it was new to her, navigating maternal cuddles with jewelry. She'd already scratched him once and cried over it for nearly an hour, until the baby was long over it and Gibbs was warily concerned for her mental sanity.
She smiled as the diamond glinted in the firelight, and admired it for a moment, while Benjamin fussed quietly—his fussing was constant this evening, and she was placidly and patiently bearing it.
The ring—it had found a home on her finger in a curious way—she had only been back stateside for two weeks when she'd woken to find an orchid on her pillow, with a small wooden box next to it—and naturally, inside she'd found the ring, and next to it a man's ring—and an ominous, handwritten note that said only—
up to you, Jen. i've asked too many women.
She'd gone about her day with the flower and the rings in the back of her mind—she was still making arrangements with NCIS human resources and settling herself and Benjamin into Gibbs' house—and then by the time he'd arrived home from NCIS—with the rest of the flowers, she'd been wearing the ring, and she'd simply slipped his on his ring finger and nodded.
So there were no vows, and perhaps there never would be, but there were rings and silent promises—and those, Gibbs never broke; vows he had a bad track record with.
Benjamin kicked and tossed in her arms, beginning to wail again, and she frowned sympathetically, dipping a soft, velvety washcloth into the festive eggnog mixture she'd concocted for him and nudging his mouth with it. He started to suck and gnaw on the washcloth, and quieted down some, his face still flushed and his eyes still wide and unhappy. He was teething—all of his tiny teeth at once, it seemed, and she'd had the brilliant—and probably frowned upon by super mothers—idea to blend his breast milk with a mildly spiked eggnog recipe to numb his pain and help him sleep.
She wasn't to start work at NCIS on Gibbs' team until January—she'd opted to take her maternity leave upon returning to the U.S. instead of when she'd had the baby in June in Italy. She had been unaware when she made that decision of just how incredibly exhausting it was to have a baby, but she'd decided Benjamin would remember nothing if she handed him to a nanny most of the time when he was a newborn infant as opposed to when he was older. She'd bitten the bullet and dealt with it until she had finished out her contract in Naples and returned stateside. The time she had now was more important; she had to relax, she had to figure out how to be a mother and a lover, and to live with Gibbs like they hadn't since Paris—and even now, it wasn't like Paris.
There had been no Benjamin in Paris—there had almost been no Benjamin at all.
She couldn't comprehend how painful their split would have been, how traumatic ending the pregnancy would have been, if he hadn't taken the risk he did that night in Paris and told her about his first wife and daughter.
Benjamin reached out with his hands and Jenny tilted her head forward, letting him clutch at the edges of her long, messy red hair. It was warm from the fire, and Benjamin smiled moodily at her as he chewed on the rag and pulled on her hair.
"Be gentle," Jenny requested softly, wrinkling her nose and lifting him closer, careful to hold the washcloth so it wouldn't get his fuzzy reindeer onesie damp. "You're hurting Mommy," she whispered calmly, when his little nails raked through her hair and yanked hard.
She heard Gibbs on the stairs—he'd been down in the basement all evening. In fact—he'd been spending too many nights lately in the basement, and it was starting to frustrate her—Benjamin's teething had been hard on them both for a week or so, now, but she felt like he was pushing it on to her—and she hesitated to start a fight.
He was fumbling up the stairs like an elephant—slowly, and she looked up, furrowing her brow. Benjamin cried out in annoyance and pulled on her hair insistently. He tried to nestle in her chest and she shifted her arm and, looking back down, saturated his washcloth in eggnog again and nudged his lips with it—she preferred he use a bottle and pumped breast milk for now, because she was wary of his new teeth.
Gibbs barreled into the room with a large, cumbersome object in his hands. It was covered sloppily in one of Benjamin's downy baby blankets, and Jenny lifted her head and raised her brows, watching as Gibbs navigated the baby items on the floor and crouched to place the thing by the fire.
He leaned forward and peered at Benjamin, narrowing his eyes.
"How's he doin'?" he asked.
"His fever went down an hour ago," Jenny responded in a low voice, holding her arm up a little so Gibbs could see Benjamin better.
"He's quieter," Gibbs remarked bluntly.
Jenny gave him a slightly withering look, and then indicated the mug full of toasty warm eggnog.
"He's inebriated," she joked dryly.
Gibbs arched his brows at her.
"Old wives' trick," Jenny whispered conspiratorially.
"Whiskey on the gums?"
"Eggnog, Jethro, it's Christmas," she answered smartly.
He looked smug, and shrugged, glancing at the mug approvingly. He smirked, and sat back on his heels, and Jenny cocked her head, eyes intently on the blanket-covered object he'd carted up the stairs.
"What's this?"
He grunted and looked at it for a moment before taking the blanket and pulling it off. He brushed his hand over the sides quickly and sort of gestured at it, his face set sternly.
"It's for Ben," he said.
He seemed to think about it, and then nodded, as if to confirm it.
Jenny's eyes ran over the old-fashioned cradle he'd just unveiled—it was quaint and small, and worn, and so obviously handcrafted that she didn't say anything for a long time; she just admired it with a sort of stunned expression.
She looked up at him.
"Is this what you've doing in the basement?" she asked softly.
He nodded, looking gruff, and she laughed a little hoarsely.
"I thought you were hiding from me and the baby," she teased, though she was half-serious.
He gave her a look, and moved forward, tucking the blue blanket around Benjamin, snuggling him up in Jenny's arms and then cupping his head possessively and shaking his head. He didn't say anything, but she was relieved that hadn't been it. He leaned back and rested his hand on the finished cradle.
"It needed re-finishing," he said gruffly. "Had to sand it, make sure it wouldn't stick 'im." He pointed to the dark blue and green cushioning lining it. "Tore out the pink, tacked in the blue," he added, quieter.
Jenny looked at him sharply, her hand slackening, moving the washcloth away from Benjamin's mouth.
"This cradle—was Kelly's?" she asked softly.
He looked at it for a long time, and then leaned forward and tapped the front. She saw there, clearly, were the carefully carved initials of his daughter. His rough fingers traced over the old lettering and he cleared his throat, a muscle in his jaw throbbing.
"Couldn't sand that off," he admitted roughly. He shifted and turned the cradle slightly, showing her Benjamin—her baby's—name carved in more masculine, block letters on the side. "Shannon always said it was a shame I spent so much time on it, when Kel—she couldn't sleep in it for long."
Jenny smiled at him. Benjamin fussed loudly, and she shifted forward, arching one eyebrow gently.
"Let's see if he likes it, hmm?" she murmured, placing Benjamin carefully into the beautifully carved little cradle.
Gibbs held it steady, and she made sure his blanket was snuggled around him appropriate. The infant still fussed, but he quieted some, looking around curiously at the change—he kicked his feet, staring up at his father from the cradle. He smacked his lips and put his thumb in his mouth, chewing. Jenny smiled. She took the washcloth and the mug and stood up, leaving Gibbs to watch the baby for a moment while she heated the mixture back up and got a pacifier and a fresh washcloth—a rougher one, so he could chew to his little heart's desire.
She should have known this would be hard on Gibbs. She felt a little guilty for thinking he was shirking his side of the responsibility, when she should have been more sensitive to what an adjustment it must be for him to have a baby again—even though he had promised her he'd be okay, and that he wanted Benjamin. She yawned and pushed her hair back, taking the eggnog from the microwave and testing it on three fingers. She sucked them dry of the sweet concoction and then shuffled back to the hearth. She sat down, mug and washcloth in hand, and watched him rock the cradle just right.
He was letting Benjamin chew on his ring finger, because the tough metal would be soothing on the little sore gums.
She watched for a moment, and then she was a little overwhelmed by how grateful she was that this was all falling into place like this—even if it had never been part of her plan. She leaned forward and placed her hands on his neck, flashing a quick smile at him before pressing a long, deep kiss to his lips.
His arm snaked around her waist and held her there, and then he pulled away, pressed sly kiss to her jaw, and tilted his head.
"He's watchin' us," he muttered wryly.
Jenny flushed and slid her hands down Gibbs' shoulders, squeezing his biceps and then leaning back.
"He's getting sleepy," she said, relieved. "Hand him back to me?" she requested, sitting back against the sofa again, right by the Christmas tree near the fire.
Gibbs nodded and deftly picked Benjamin up out of the cradle, blanket and all, and carried him over to Jenny. He tucked the baby into her arms again and watched as Jenny saturated the washcloth in some sweet, warm mixture and coaxed Benjamin to gum it. He smirked—it was ingenious, and for an out of place moment, he wished he could tell Shannon about it, because Kelly's teething had been such hell for his late wife. He brushed the thoughts away sadly, and leaned forward to kiss Jen's temple—thankful for what he had, missing what he'd lost.
Jenny smiled at him, and then turned her attention back Benjamin, focused on easing his teething pain. She sang softly, off key, some popular Christmas song, and he stood up and wandered into the kitchen—the fire was sweltering; he didn't know how she and the baby could stand it, curling up so close.
Breathing in cooler air, Gibbs prowled around the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator-the only thing on it at the moment was the date for Benjamin's first American pediatrician appointment. It wouldn't be long before the refrigerator was covered in kid's drawings and projects again, and it was something Gibbs had never thought he could look forward to again.
He smiled tiredly, and opened the fridge, searching around. He found the pitcher of eggnog Jenny had mixed up and got it out, pouring the rest into a mug and heating it up.
"Jethro, can you pour me a glass of wine?" Jenny called.
He answered in the affirmative, and got her one, carrying both it and his mug of eggnog into the living room. He handed her the wine glass, and sat on the couch behind her, looking down protectively over her and Benjamin. His eyes fell on the diamond in her finger, glinting as she held the spiked cloth to their sons' mouth.
Benjamin looked sleepier, and his fussing was dying down.
Gibbs grinned and ran his hand through her messy red hair.
"You're better at this than I thought you'd be, Jen," he teased, and she shoved her elbow into his knee with a small laugh.
"Poor Benjy," she murmured, sighing. "I wish he wasn't so sore and feverish his first Christmas," she lamented.
"Ah, he won't remember it," Gibbs placated, drinking the eggnog he'd fixed himself. He continued to play with Jenny's hair. It was warm and tangled, and he focused on working out those knots.
"Wish you'd come home sooner," he said gruffly, out of the blue.
She held Benjamin closer to her, smiling at him for a moment, struck by the affection in Gibbs' tone, and then she turned and wrinkled her nose at him wryly, arching a brow.
"I'm home for Christmas, darling," she said loftily, in an accented tone, as if singing an old Christmas Carole. "Not only in your dreams."
He rolled his eyes and tugged on her hair, taking another drink. She turned back to Benjamin, and then turned back sharply, her eyes narrowing. She watched him swallow and lower the mug to his knee, and she tilted her head.
"What is that?" she asked abruptly, nodding to his mug.
"Eggnog," he answered bluntly, as if it were obvious.
She stared at him, her lips parted slightly, and her brows moved up just a bit. He glared back at her blankly and then, perturbed by her wary glare, snorted and held up the mug defensively.
"I got Christmas spirit," he drawled dramatically. "It's got whiskey in it," he said dramatically, glaring at her—it seemed he thought she was questioning his masculinity, but her reaction was stemming mainly from—
"That's Ben's eggnog, Jethro," she remarked pointedly.
He blinked at her, uncomprehending.
"He wouldn't be here if it weren't for me," Gibbs growled seriously. "He can't share his damn eggnog?"
Jenny fluttered her lashes, bit her lip, and then tilted her head pointedly.
"It's Ben's teething eggnog, specifically," she emphasized.
He looked at her suspiciously, and then—
"It's breast milk eggnog," she clarified.
-it dawned on him, and he looked dubiously down into the mug, a look of grim realization seizing his face. His jaw tightened, and she bit her lip, trying so hard not to laugh—she hadn't thought Gibbs liked eggnog, or she would have warned him—
She supposed it was a good story to associate with Benjamin's first fussy, sore, toothy first Christmas, and as she slowly lost her battle with not laughing, and she tilted her head back silently, snuggling Benjamin close to her breasts while she waited intently for Gibbs to say something—
He surprised her, in the end, by shooting Benjamin a look of mild acceptance and shrugging, taking another—manly—drink of the breast milk eggnog—and Jenny only laughed harder, while Gibbs debated whether or not to reveal this was not the first time he'd accidentally drank breast milk.
He considered it a point of pride to finish the mug of eggnog now, and she pouted her lip sympathetically and pressed a kiss to his knee—it was, certainly, a strangely fitting and unexpectedly soothing, first Christmas together.
Christmas Eve, 2000
happy christmas!
-alexandra
story #180