A/N: Prompt project: Wooden. Tell me what you think. You all are the best.
Rating: K
Pairing: Kibbs
Disclaimer: NOT MINE
Wooden
By: Katie Todd
Kate ran her fingers over the wooden boat frame. The skeleton was massive. Long fingers walk up non-sanded edges as they trace the arch of each rib. She loves it down here, in his basement. There is a chair in the corner, sturdy, wooden and comfortable, with a deep blue colored cotton cushion. It was the most comfortable rocking chair she had ever sat it. The chair had been an anniversary gift to her last year, from Gibbs. He had said she needed a new reading chair, his deep, calming voice had continued to explain his aggravation at the scraping sounds her four legged chair made when she tried to rock it.
The brunette settles in the chair and pulls a blanket out of one of the custom, wooden, cubbies behind her. She tugs it around her and grabs her laptop from another cubby. Her silver haired husband had created the corner for her when they first got married. He said he had practically lived in this basement without company for far too long, and now that he had it, he was going to at least try to make it inviting. He had stocked the cubbies for her bit by bit with things like blankets, socks, folders, paperback war romances, and her laptop. She'd tiptoed down to the basement yesterday to find he'd added a rug. The brunette checks the time on her laptop, to find her husband should be home in less than an hour, according to his earlier guesstement.
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The subtle sound of sandpaper scrapping on wood fills the room as Gibbs takes out his stubborn aggression on the thin wood piece on the table in front of him. The guy they had been after had shot himself right in front of a middle school before they could arrest him.
"Jet?" the brunette slurs, a hand cuddled under her stomach, "when'd you get home? You should've waken me."
He looks up from his work, his eyes convey his pain. She stands up on stiff legs to join him, a soft hand on her back, and winces slightly.
"Bad case" he explains, in a worn voice, to her raised eyebrow expression.
She nods softly knowing he doesn't want to discuss it.
"What are you walking on?" she questions peering over his arm.
His worn hands hold up the thin, slated back to a rocking chair.
"I thought you would like one for upstairs, in the nursery"
She smiles and he slides a hand over her swollen stomach.
"Here," he pulls a chair up and guides her into it. He sets the piece of wood in front of her and fills her waiting hands with a piece of stiff sandpaper wrapped over a sanding block. Worn hands guide her soft ones over the wood, laying kisses in her hair and nuzzling her neck as she works. He eventually moves to rubbing her neck.
"I love you" he murmurs, "and baby Gibbs"
"I love you and Baby Gibbs to" she agrees with a smile.
A/N: What did you think?