A/N: It's late, I want to write but have annoying block so you know what? I wrote this. It's shot, fluffy with a little bit of angst, has some hurt/comfort in it, and it's inspired by a song that never fails to make me smile (T-Shirt by Shontelle). So, enjoy the insanity created by my insomnia :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of NCIS.
"Curl up in a ball with something Hanes, in bed I lay, with nothing but your T-shirt on."
Jenny Shepard sighed as she leaned against the doorway to her closet.
She didn't want to go out with Ziva and Abby, but the girls had insisted, and she couldn't refuse, not again. Since Jethro had left for Mexico three months ago, Jenny hadn't gone out much.
She shuffled through her clothes, pulling out a dark blue dress and matching stiletto shoes. She took the time to get dressed and was doing her hair when she caught sight of his t-shirt on the floor, and her resolve to get outside lessened.
Bending, she scooped up the worn NIS shirt, holding it up to her nose to breathe in the comforting scent of him.
Her resolve completely cracked, she grabbed her phone and texted Abby, apologizing and saying that she'd go out the next time, she just didn't feel well. She knew the girl wouldn't believe her, but she just couldn't do it.
Taking off the dress and shoes, she pulled the shirt over her head and let herself be surrounded by the familiar smell of bourbon and sawdust, the collar smelling musky with him.
Curling up in bed with the old photo album, she slowly flipped through the memories, the t-shirt riding up on her thighs underneath the covers.
It didn't feel the same without him.
A week later, she was getting ready for a date.
Pulling out a dark emerald dress, she paired with a matching lingerie set and strappy heels. She knew the man she was going out with was a decent man, but…he wasn't the one she spent most of her time thinking about.
She was walking out of the room when she caught sight of the t-shirt again, this time hanging from the chair next to her vanity. She swallowed, turning to stare at it fully, leaning against her bedroom doorframe.
She couldn't do this-she couldn't go out with this man.
She called him, telling him she had to cancel; an unexpected development has arisen that needed her direct attention.
Changing out of the fancy clothes, she pulled that same shirt over her head, reveling in the soft cotton against her skin. It felt natural; it felt comfortable-it didn't matter than she'd stolen it from him in Paris. She knew he had more; this one was just the one she'd spent most of her nights in while they had been in Paris. It had been like a second skin, and she hadn't let it go, even when she'd left.
She curled up in the sheets, closing her eyes as she remembered. Memories were all she had now, and she clung to them. He was so far away; the beaches of Mexico were miles away.
She just wanted him home.
Just another night at home; paperwork had been managed, her housekeeper had left for the night, and she was settling in for a cup of tea. She was dressed in that old t-shirt and a pair of soft black shorts, her hair up in a loose bun.
Her peace and quiet was interrupted by a loud knock, and she sighed. Standing, she opened the door, and her eyes widened at her visitor.
"Jethro?" she asked, confused. "Why aren't you in Mexico?"
"Can't get you outta my head," he answered honestly, his eyes landing on the shirt. He swallowed, his eyes meeting hers again. "Guess you can't forget about me either?"
"I can't forget you Jethro," Jenny whispered, leaning against the door. "Even when you're hundreds of miles away, you're always on my mind."
"Shirt still looks good on you," he said, stepping closer, his eyes darkening.
"I missed you," she said, tilting her head up to look at him. "Shirt was all I had."
"Keep it," he said, his face closing in on hers. "I want to see it on you every night."
His lips were on hers before she could answer-she swallowed her response as she kissed him back.
"Every night."
She knew she liked that shirt for a reason.