Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me, I just borrow the characters for my own wicked schemes every now and then.

Summary: Kate wakes up in bed with someone unexpected, with no memory of the night before. What happened last night? And what will happen now? Kate/Gibbs. Rated M from the start.

What Happens Now?

One

She blinked the last of the sleep from her eyes, squinting in the bright light. Her head was pounding. From the light coming in through the window it must have been at least mid-morning.

Kate rolled over, noticing for the first time she was not alone in the bed. Oh, yeah, and she was naked. A slow ache spread through her body - not pain, but the less familiar man-I-had-a-good-time-last-night ache.

With a gasp she shot upright beneath the blankets as she realised who her companion was. Silver hair, lean muscles, the only recently healed gunshot wound on his shoulder… it could only be one man.

Gibbs.

She groaned softly, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her hands. What had she done? All the evidence pointed to the obvious; she and Gibbs had slept together, but she didn't remember a thing. She thought back to the night before, trying as hard as she could to remember anything.

A dark bar. Music, blaring from the speakers, a band she didn't recognise. The smell of whiskey, the initial burn of the alcohol in her throat. Gibbs was there, drinking alongside her, laughing with her.

Then nothing. Her mind was blank until the moment she woke up.

Gibbs stirred. She watched him roll over onto his back, bringing up his hand to shield his eyes.

'Morning,' she said, her voice falsely cheery.

He dropped his hand from his eyes, his panicked gaze finding hers. His eyes widened further as he took in her appearance: her dark hair was tangled, the previous day's makeup still smudged around her eyes, the sheet pulled tightly up around her as she stared at him, chocolate eyes wide.

Gibbs rubbed his forehead absently, frowning as he too tried and failed to remember what had happened the previous night.

'Please tell me you know what happened last night,' he said, looking at her hopefully.

'I know as much as you do,' Kate replied, her voice anxious.

'Do you think we…?' he trailed off, the rest of his question obvious. He was exhausted, despite the amount of sleep he had presumably had, but he wasn't tired, per se; he felt like he'd spent the night in bed with a beautiful woman, which, he realised, he had.

Kate nodded. 'Sure feels like it,' she said.

Oops. He had found Kate attractive from the start; it was part of the reason he'd offered her a job with NCIS after the Air Force One incident, even though he'd made her swear she wouldn't sleep with a co-worker again. It was a promise he had made himself too, after Paris, the way things had ended there, and once Kate joined NCIS he told himself that while he could look at her, he couldn't touch. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. There had always been a little voice in the back of his head, saying, "What if it isn't a mistake?", but he had always suppressed it. Besides, of the men on the team, he wouldn't have expected her to want him. Wouldn't DiNozzo have been better for her, being younger and surely more attractive?

Now he had broken all the rules. He should have known it would happen sooner or later. Resisting Kate had been hard from the start and it had only gotten more difficult as time went by. He was sure she knew how much he wanted him; some of the comments she made, or the little things she did, just hinted at something completely different from what he had come to expect from her.

'I'm going to take a shower,' Kate said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. She needed to get away from him for five minutes, to try and stop the electric current that pulsed through her body every time she so much as glanced at him.

'Okay.' He nodded.

In the shower, she ran the water as hot as she could bear it and stood under the spray, letting the hot steam unfog her tired mind. Flashes of memory started to come back to her.

His lips, soft on hers as he kissed her gently. Sliding her hand beneath his shirt, the feel of his bare skin beneath her fingers. His teeth, grazing her earlobe, her jaw, her throat; his lips soothing each bite. The quiet rustle of her panties as he pulled them down her legs. His breath, warm on her thighs as his fingers stroked her.

She was left without a doubt that they had crossed a line. But the question was, what would happen now? She tried not to think about it as she lathered shampoo into her hair, rinsed and conditioned. When she was done, she shut off the water and wrapped a towel around herself. She paused, suddenly hesitant to return to the bedroom. Was Gibbs still in there? Strange as it seemed, she didn't want to get dressed in front of him.

Her fears were soon proved unwarranted, however, as she found the bedroom empty. The smell of coffee and sounds of movement from the kitchen told her Gibbs must be attempting to make some sort of breakfast. She pulled on clean clothes, just pants and a blouse, nothing special, ran a brush through her hair and headed for the kitchen.

Gibbs was dressed too, wearing the previous day's slacks and T-shirt. He was putting bacon under the grill, and there were slices of buttered bread on the side. The coffee pot was full and steaming, with two mugs stood next to it.

'You didn't have to do all this,' Kate said, pouring the coffee and adding cream and sugar to hers.

'I wanted to,' he replied, taking the mug she handed him.

She leant against the counter and watched him, wondering what he was thinking. How much did he remember of the night before? He usually held his liquor well, so there was a chance he remembered more than he was letting on. But before, in the bedroom, he'd seemed so sincere when he'd asked her what had happened.

'What do you remember from last night?' he asked suddenly.

'Not a lot,' she replied honestly. 'I remember the bar. We drank a lotta whiskey, and from then on all I can get is flashes.'

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. 'Flashes of what?' he asked, a sly grin on his face. He definitely remembered more than he was letting on.

'What do you think?' she said, sarcastically. He moved closer to her, his expression betraying nothing. 'How much do you remember?' she questioned.

'Enough,' he said quietly, his face just millimetres from hers. 'Katie…'

A memory flashed through her mind at the name.

'Katie…' He paused to plant a kiss on her collarbone. 'Let me make love to you.'

His calloused hands parted her thighs, his fingertips brushing her swollen lower lips and making her cry out.

'Yes, Jethro,' she breathed. 'Yes.'

Back in the kitchen, he closed the gap between them and kissed her, his lips as soft as she remembered them. She brought her hands up to cup his face as his arms snaked round her waist, holding her to his body as tightly as she held him. She pressed herself to him, the feel of his hard muscles familiar yet new, and kissed him more deeply.

When he pulled away, he held her gaze, and in it she saw a certainty, a sort of finality.

'I don't regret any of it,' he told her.