Summary: A night on the town leaves Jenny thinking the who, what and why?
Disclaimer: Same old situation. Nada.
Jenny's eyes blinked irratically, trying to adjust to the blinding brightness. She had no clue where the hell she was! Or what she had done the night before. All she knew was that she had a pounding in her head that could bring a monster to their knees. Thumping in her head felt like hundreds of little tiny hammers beating her brain and skull. She felt peculiarly warm. There was an arm strewn over her waist. Who the hell was that? She pushed herself up to see a bare back. His face was in the pillow, silver hair not registering a hint. She hastened herself out of bed, looking down her body. She had a shirt on, but that didn't mean anything. She sat in the comfortable chair next to her queen sized bed, staring at the sleeping form. She was in a state of panic. One knee was up, her chin resting on it, the other leg bent off to the side. Her arms were holding both legs. She didn't concentrate on the splitting headache, just the body in her bed. Who was he? Her brain was going haywire. She mentally slapped herself in the back of the head, like Jethro would have done if he were here. When the man in question finally rolled over and blinked at the ceiling, he did so like it was nothing unusual. It was normal. Like it was second nature. Jenny felt as though she was going to faint. Because in her bed was none other...than Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
His head dropped to the side and he looked at her sleepily with those incredible blue eyes. He didn't seem phased by the fact that he had just woken up in her bed, next to her, shirtless, and possibly clotheless. She felt her heart accelerate. She was panicing. He had the sleepy smile on his face, the one he always had, the one she'd seen oh-so many times in Paris. The one that she'd fallen in love with. But there was no time to think like that right now. She was too worried about what she quite possibly had done with him last night. No, no, no, no, no, no! No! I didn't! Heeelll no! She was so worried. He stood up from the bed, blue plaid pajama bottoms on. She silently let go of the breath she hadn't known she was holding in. That was a good sign...Right?
"Mornin', Jen," he said in a yawn, walking toward the door, down the stairs, into the kitchen. She followed him impatiently.
"'Mornin''? Is that all you have to say to me?" He stopped working the coffee maker and looked at her. She was holding her head.
"Yeah." He said, almost confused. "Headache?" He asked, now smirking. She was now sitting at the island, elbows up on the countertop, head in her hands. She moved to glare at him. He just laughed. That made her really mad.
"Jethro, we didn't-You and I didn't-What the hell happened last night?" She asked, finally frustrated.
"You don't remember?" He asked, fake hurt. Her jaw dropped. He laughed. "You got drrrunk as hell, Jen!" He was still laughing. She thought they'd done something, and he was taunting her. She felt the relief wash over her.
"I don't get drunk, Jethro."
"Obviously you do, Jen."
"I don't get drunk!"
"Yes, you do!"
"Ow, don't yell.." she whimpered. He stopped laughing and put a black coffee in front of her, now a stern, sorry face worn.
"Drink this. It'll do ya some good." He said, concerned. "Y'alright?"
"Yeah...but could you tell me what happened last night?"
The bartender walked over to a drunk Jenny. She was sitting there, looking kind of sad. He was concerned. He had to do the right thing, so he walked over and asked what he could do. Who he should call. She handed him his cell phone, told him to look at the list, told him the exact number in the list Jethro Gibbs was, and he clicked on the number. The bartender then went over to his phone, punched in the numbers, and waited for the answer. There was ringing in his dream. He rolled over and picked up the cell phone.
"What the hell?" He growled to himself, flipping the phone open and answered. "What?" He yelled, angry.
"Are you Jethro?"
"Yeah."
"Uhm, well, I'm here with Jenny Shepard. She's had a little bit too much to drink, and I think she better get a ride home. I don't think she's fit to drive. And you're the one she said to call."
"Alright. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't let her leave." He said, getting the name of the bar, rolling out of bed in a U.S. navy blue Marine's shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. He checked the time. Two o'clock in the morning! "What the hell?" He growled again, driving to pick her up. He drove to the bar, got her in the car, and drove to her house. She had fallen asleep on the way there, so he had to carry her up to her bedroom. He set her onto the bed, taking off her ridiculously high heels, setting them down gently, and pulling off her black party dress. He pulled his own shirt off and slipped it down over her head, putting her arms through the holes. He lay her down into the comforter and pillow, starting to walk away. She grabbed his hand.
"No. Stay," she said sleepily.
"Jen, I don't think I should-" he began. She cut him off.
"Please?" She begged. And he couldn't decline her begging. She had a whimper in her voice, a pleading. He sighed and climbed in next to her, spooning up gently. He fell asleep. In the night, his arms slipped over her stomach, and he moved to lay on his stomach. And that's how they got to here.
"Oh my God," she murmured, blushing like mad. "I feel...SO stupid.." She said.
"You're not stupid.. I thought it was cute." He said, smiling.
"I was drunk. Not cute."
"Oh no? I could have kissed you, and you wouldn't have refused it."
"Who says I have to be drunk to not refuse a kiss from you?" She countered. His eyebrows quirked up in curiousity. She smiled at him. She moved closer to him, as he walked over to her. His hands found this ways to her waist, and his mouth closed onto hers. Tongues dueling, they didn't want this kiss to end. But it had to, when the necessity of air became inexplicable. Their eyes locked, impossibly darker with lust and want. "Absolute worst time to have a hangover." She said. They both laughed.