AN: My local movie theater has a pinball machine. I love Jibbs. No specific season but they are already a thing. Pick whatever movie you want, but I was thinking "New Moon." Enjoy!

Jethro Gibbs sighed at a loss of something to occupy himself. Jen had somehow convinced him to come to a movie and she of course had to pee afterwards. What was it about women and lines in public restrooms? He would never understand why they got so long.

His eye was drawn to a machine flashing in the corner. Pinball: now that was something that would keep him busy. He made his way through the mass of squealing teenage girls, and checked his pocket for a quarter. Glad that for once he had bought some of the insanely priced candy if only to appease his lover. He inserted the quarter and sent his ball of on its journey.

He lost his first ball quickly when it shot off of a bumper more quickly than he expected it to. He only had two left now and was severely tempted to smack himself but decided that it wasn't worth it. He was more careful with his second and started to get back in the swing of things. He was started to feel very proud of himself when he lost his second ball because a certain red-head had decided to grab his butt. He turned and gave her a worthy glare.

"I'm working on a high-score here," he was very serious about his pinball.

"Uh-huh, finish your game and then let a pro show you how it's done." She let him finish his game and cheated the whole time by leaning against the machine and trying to distract him with an ample view of her cleavage. He finished the game with a score of 678,000 reasonable, but the high score was still around two-million.

She inserted her own quarter and proceeded to only get 250 points before losing her first ball. He laughed in a way that wasn't quite mean, "Yeah, Jen, you're a real pro. Make you a deal, you beat my score you get one free wish. If you don't, I get anything I wish," the direction his eyes took clearly showed what, "anything" was. She nodded accepting the terms of his agreement.

Her second ball went much better, and she began to smirk. By the time her second ball died she had made it to 650,000. His jaw had dropped and her small smirk had blossomed into a full blown grin. "You, hustled me," he accused.

"Never said I wasn't any good, now let me whoop your washed-up ass," she smiled to take the sting out of her not quite innocent taunt.

By then the movie theater was deserted by everyone except the few teenage employees who were too scared to approach the two adults. She launched her third ball, and he launched his defensive tactics.

He began attacking her neck as soon as she let go of the plunger. She slapped his chest as she expertly flicked the right flipper. "Cheater," she accused.

"Just doing what I have to," he continued his assault of her neck. She stayed surprisingly focused for the next two minutes and then he could feel a sudden jump in her pulse. He looked at the screen to see that he was at 667,000 one more good launch at the bumpers and she would win this bet. He redoubled his efforts at sabotage. Suddenly she was kissing him back. He looked at the screen to see that—yes—she had done it the flashing number 685,000 stung his pride, but he was willing to accept his defeat if she kept kissing him like this.

Sadly the moment was ruined by the "umm siring" of a teenage boy. "Um sir, we-we're kinda closing."

AN: I hope you liked it. Drop me a line.