a/n: so - here is a leap back into the ACD universe ! originally, i planned to re-visit with the wedding fic, but I began this as a "prologue" to that and decided they each needed to stand alone. i hope you enjoy this ! and, some background: Gibbs is stationed at Quantico; Jenny is finishing her 5th year / Masters' at Penn.
Vanilla: Prologue
[the proposal]
March 2013
It was the first long day of the year – the advent of Daylight Saving Time – and the last day of spring break. The coincidence of the two meant this March Sunday evening was bittersweet; a breath of fresh air, and a bit of a downer: on one hand, it was eight in the evening and the sky was still glowing – on the other, tomorrow morning Jenny Shepard was driving back to Pennsylvania, which meant an end to the straight week she'd finally been able to spend with the monosyllabic, brooding Marine she called a boyfriend.
She was making the most of it though – light, colourful Spring-y outfit, an uninterrupted day of his company, and a very, very espresso-y cup of coffee from the old café she used to work at – just to ensure she'd be able to make the night last as long as the day – they had gotten up at the crack of dawn to go fishing, after all.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs' hands curled into her waist and he pulled her against his side a little tighter suddenly, giving her a spontaneous squeeze and then loosening his grip. They were wandering the familiar streets of the capitol, walking off dinner and reveling in the late light. She wordlessly passed him her coffee cup for a sip and he accepted, rolling his eyes slightly at the flavoring she'd had put in it, but sharing anyway.
"We should get dessert," Jenny said wryly, taking her coffee cup back lazily and tapping her finger on the lid. She took another sip, and waited for Gibbs to roll his eyes again and snort – which he did.
"You said you didn't want dessert," he retorted.
"Yeah," she agreed, tilting her head, "but that was twenty minutes ago."
He pushed is fingers into her ribs and she sucked in her breath, elbowing him. He grinned, and nudged her gently, shaking his head.
"You want frozen yogurt?"
"I'm not going to say I want frozen yogurt, but I don't not want frozen yogurt."
"Jen."
"I mean, it is the first day of longer light, which means it's basically summer."
"S'not even spring yet," Gibbs growled placidly.
"Be straight with me, Jethro: when do I not want frozen yogurt?"
He snorted and pinched her playfully again – she squealed and arched away, trying to twist out of his grip defensively. He grinned and yanked her back, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.
"If I buy you frozen yogurt, you're gonna want French fries," he muttered smartly into her hair.
She crinkled her nose and tilted her head up, batting her lashes.
"You know me so well," she simpered, smirking. She straightened, and leaned back, stopping. She crossed her arms and eyed him, chewing on the lid of her coffee cup. "Proposition," she began gallantly.
"Not in the streets, Jen, I'm a gentleman."
"Not that kind of proposition, you dog."
"Woof," he growled, and she tilted her head back in exasperation. "Let me have it," he relented, arching a brow.
"You buy the fro-yo; I buy the French fries," she said and shrugged cutely.
"What kind of man lets his woman buy her own French fries?" Gibbs retorted in mock outrage.
Jenny shrugged and grinned, taking another sip of her coffee.
"An obedient man," she drawled loftily, and then laughed, taking his hand firmly and tugging – starting to walk again. "There's a little fro-yo cart up here, come on," she coaxed, and then: "I told Daddy I'd grab him a Big Mac on the way home," she confessed.
Gibbs gave her an overdramatic groan and allowed himself to be dragged a bit before he caught up and slipped his arm around her again, gesturing for her to share the coffee once more. She obliged, and he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.
"That old fossil – "
"He really is old now," Jenny interrupted solemnly. "You should stop calling him old. It's ominous."
"He's the youngest damn Colonel in the Army," Gibbs replied flippantly. He gave her a look. She shrugged, and fluttered her eyelashes again; Gibbs pushed her coffee cup back into her hands and she pointed ahead, steering him towards where she knew a tasty little frozen yogurt cart usually set up.
"He asked you for McDonald's because he wants you to come home early," grumbled Gibbs.
"Well, I can't go back to school without seeing him," Jenny said with a shrug. "I already blew him off most of this week for you."
It wasn't really true – her Spring break hadn't been convenient for the Colonel; he'd been in Belgium for some of it doing something secret with someone clandestine, and then when he'd gotten back, he'd had to respond to something involving Syria and a new dynamic to the Civil War there – so he'd been at the Pentagon a majority of her time home. She still felt a little guilty for spending most of the week at Gibbs' Quantico apartment.
Gibbs nodded – he didn't mind. He had been planning on seeing the Colonel tonight anyway – if things turned out the way he wanted them to, he knew Jenny would want to go home and tell Jasper as soon as possible – and he had a good gut feeling about tonight.
"What do you want?" Gibbs started to ask, with his wallet out, when they stopped at the vendor – but she was already ordering, tossing her coffee cup in the trash as she did so.
"A scoop of chocolate raspberry, and a scoop of mango," she said matter-of-factly. "And, a some vanilla for this boring – "
"Hey, want if I want to switch it up?" Gibbs griped.
She turned her eyes on him.
"Wow me," she said skeptically, and he glared at her.
"Pineapple Pecan," he informed her, deadpan.
"You made that up," she hissed, and turned back to the vendor and rolled her eyes.
"He'll take vanilla," she reiterated, and took his wallet and lightly handed over the money. He snatched it back and grumbled at her.
"…order my dessert for me, woman, what kind of man lets his woman – "
"Stop asking me what kind of man you are," Jenny snorted, as they strolled away from the vendor with treats in hand. "I know exactly what kind of man you are."
"Vanilla?" he guessed dryly, glaring at her.
He set his jaw, and she smirked at him, leaning her head on his shoulder briefly.
"Boring?" he added, muttering under his breath.
She licked her lips, and then licked some of the exotic flavors off her spoon.
"Jethro," she said neutrally, and cocked an eyebrow. "You remember before you get your panties in twist – when baking, one can't make anything worth having without vanilla."
He glanced down at her and hips lips turned up a little. She smiled, and he cleared his throat, trying to remain brooding – and huffy.
"'M not wearin' panties," he said, taking offense to the feminine term.
She gasped overdramatically.
"You slut."
He snorted, and she adjusted her handbag, lifting it higher on her shoulder and switching her frozen yogurt into her other hand so she could slip her right one into his back pocket. She tilted her head towards the left, and pressed her fingertips into his butt through his jeans, steering him towards the sprawling lawn near the Capitol building.
"Feels like," she began, drawing her guess out, "boxers," she said, moving her head from side to side, "hmmm – "
"Jen, quit."
"Hmm, the new ones I got your for Valentine's Day – or the ones with the hole in the ass?"
"Jen," he whined.
She shrugged and laughed, leaving him alone.
"What if I started groping you in public?" he groused.
"I'd punch you," she answered seriously, moving her frozen yogurt cup to her mouth and licking the top of it carelessly.
"So how come you get to grab my ass in public?"
"'Cause you like it."
He opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it in resignation. If he said he didn't, she'd stop putting her hand in his back pockets – and he did like that. He lost this round of bantering, and fell silent again, content instead to enjoy his vanilla frozen yogurt and let her wander around until she found a place on the grass to sit.
"Look at all the couples, having picnics," she cooed, gesturing around them as she sat down and drew her legs up. She perched her treat on her knee and crinkled her nose. "Look at 'em, Jethro, being all cute and stuff," she went on.
She grabbed his hand at the fingers.
"Come be cute with me," she trilled mockingly, tugging on his hand.
He resisted her.
Don't spill my ice cream," he warned.
"It's fro-yo."
"The grass is wet."
"It is not, you dumb fancy boy," Jenny retorted, puckering her lips. "Get your ass down here and be cute with me."
He allowed himself to be dragged down to her, and sprawled ungracefully next to her, sitting up a little on his arm and tipping his quickly melting snack into his mouth a little. She scooted over closer and stuck her spoon in his for a taste. He glared at her, and she widened her eyes and pretended to offer him some of hers – and then closed her lips over it, opened her mouth, and stuck her tongue out at him.
He slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her forward, kissing her aggressively and swiping the ice cream right out of her mouth. She burst out laughing while she tried to kiss him back and hit her forehead on his temple, unable to feign outrage. He smirked at her, and she shoved him back playfully.
She was still laughing when she pushed her purse off her arm and started rummaging through it with one hand.
"I'm going to take a photo," she threatened.
"No."
"Yeah, I'm gonna post it on Pride's wife's Facebook, and then the whole base will have proof that you aren't so aloof and fuckin' stonehearted as you pretend – "
"Aw, Jen, Jesus," he whined – Pride was a buddy of his at Quantico who was the butt of jokes because of his wife's voracious social media presence – Jenny liked her a lot, though, regardless of how many sappy photos she took.
Jenny lurched over quickly, fumbling with her iPhone – and the photo she got was of Gibbs dutifully making sure she didn't spill her frozen yogurt while she smiled – so, he looked stern and determined, and she just looked like her usual self.
She sat up and sighed, pushing her hair back and handing him her yogurt.
"One day," she said dramatically. "One day, I will catch you on camera looking at me like a lovesick fool, and I'll make coasters and mouse pads and key chains out of it," she predicted. "And I'll pass them out to your Marines."
"Not today," he said smugly.
She shrugged lightly.
"Whatever. This is still going on Instagram."
He rolled his eyes and glared at her, and when she put the phone away, he handed her frozen yogurt back to her and laid back on his back, watching her finish it – and watching her watch all the other people. She liked to people watch – and he liked to stare at her – so in that respect, finishing the evening lounging on the Capitol lawn was ideal.
That, and the Capitol lawn was theirs, as far as he was concerned, and he liked to be here with her – they'd watched fireworks here the night they met, had their first kiss here, danced after prom – it might be fairly populated on a night like tonight, when sunlight was slow to fade and the weather was perfect – but he still considered this place theirs, and if that was sentimental he didn't give a damn.
She turned and put her empty cup in his and then put that all aside near her purse and lay back next to him, putting her hands behind her head as a pillow and glancing over. She laughed and chewed her lip a moment.
"Jackie put up a cute picture of Kayla," she said. "She had this sweet little bow on, and she was standing in her new princess bed. And then Dad, he posted a photo of himself at the Air and Space Museum – "
"The Colonel has an Instablam?" Gibbs asked skeptically.
"It's Instagram, Jethro," she retorted loftily. "No, of course not. Technically. I made him one and I post pictures on it. Mostly of me making faces while he works in the background. His username is JasperLovesBagels."
Gibbs laughed.
"That's why he wants you to move out."
"My father does not want me to move out."
"He told you – "
"He asked me what I was planning after I finish the Master's," Jenny corrected, smirking. "Which is his subtle way of asking what we're doing, because he wants to know if I'm moving in with you."
"Oh," Gibbs grunted, shifting his head.
He dug his heels into the lawn and shrugged.
"And I mean, he is expecting me to move out," Jenny said matter-of-factly, "and I want to, you know. I'll be twenty-three with two degrees," she snorted. "Time to move out of Daddy's house."
"But you don't think he wants you to go?"
"I think he misses me being little," Jenny said frankly, and smiled a little more softly.
Gibbs gave her a blank look.
"Little?" he said – he didn't quite understand that. Jenny had been 'grown up' so to speak for years – she was in her fifth year of college, finishing her Master's, she'd gone out of state to school – he didn't see why all of a sudden the Colonel would be having a crisis about it. "Is your old man losing his grip?"
She kicked him in the ankle and glared at him.
"I am his only child, and he did raise me alone," she reminded Gibbs tartly, narrowing her eyes. She tilted her head, and tried to explain it more. "I know I went to college but … you know, I came home on breaks and stuff. I lived at home during the summer."
"Ah," Gibbs noted, shifting slightly. "He's milking it," he guessed – he remembered last year, when Jenny had spent two weeks of Christmas at Camp Lejeune with Gibbs; the Colonel had been unhappy with that situation – not for moral reasons, Gibbs now realized.
Jenny nodded.
"Yeah, I mean, when I graduate from this program, I'll get a job. It might take me somewhere further away, and he knows it's going to mean my life is completely my life – there will no longer be a schedule that definitely tells him when it's me and him in the brownstone."
Gibbs nodded, clenching his teeth slightly. She put it that way, and he even felt a little sore for the Colonel. That brownstone was a hell of a place to suddenly have all to yourself. It almost made him feel guilty –
"You keepin' him in mind when you look for jobs?" he ventured warily.
"No," she said lightly, though not with any animosity. "Obviously the organizations I'm looking to work with operate out of DC, but I've got no field office preference at the moment."
She paused, and then she looked over at him and bit her lip.
"Um," she began quietly, glancing around. "I – I haven't mentioned this to anyone," she began slowly, "but I – got an interview with a CIA recruiter," she admitted. "For a paid internship post-graduation that I could turn into a full-time job."
Gibbs sat up, brows raised.
"Damn, Jenny," he said sincerely. "That's good."
'Good' was about the extent of Gibbs' impressed vocabulary, and she beamed, her cheeks flushing a little. She nodded, chewing on her lip again, and then she took a deep breath.
"Interview aside, if I do well, everything is contingent upon security clearances and passing detector tests – "
"You're in," Gibbs said, rolling his eyes at her. "You, an American traitor? A security threat?" he scoffed.
She grinned.
"I like your confidence," she said, and pushed her hair back out of her face. "So, at the moment, that's what I'm focusing on – that interview, that path," she explained thoughtfully. "Then … when it comes time to decide on a permanent position, or to move on … if these even works out," she said quickly, giving him a logical look. "I figured I'd see where you are."
"Me?"
"Well, us," she said, shrugging. "If you're at a fairly steady base assignment, I'd see what my job options near you were like."
He smiled at her – he liked hearing that. It was a relief to hear that she was genuinely concerned about that, and he let it sink in for a moment.
"When you graduate," he started gruffly, trying to choose words that wouldn't sound stupid or asinine. "Then, uh, we factor in more?"
She licked her lips.
"It's not that we never factored in, Jethro, I just – I had to be a college student, and you had to be a Marine, and you know all our decisions couldn't be about each other completely – "
"Yeah, yeah," he grunted, showing her we wasn't trying to start something – they'd had fights in the past about her unwillingness to completely tie them down, or his tunnel vision when it came to their relationship.
She nodded to show she understood what he was implying, and licked her lips again.
"It's very odd," she said, taking a deep breath, "having sort of – no plan."
Gibbs snorted.
"You've always had a plan," he noted, nudging her, teasing a little.
She smirked and nodded – so that's why this was so weird.
"But I have you, right?" she asked suddenly, turning to look at him.
He leaned back slightly, arching a brow, and she leaned in, her hands planted on the grass between them, hair falling over her shoulder. Her eyes met his intently, searching, and she arched her brows.
"You're a constant?" she asked. "You're vanilla?"
"You're askin' me that?" he retorted, pointing to himself.
He put his hand over hers on the grass, and ran his fingers up her arm until he reached her neck, lifting his chin almost proudly.
"Jen, I ain't goin' anywhere," he said simply. Then he blinked, and grinned a little. "'Cept anywhere the Corps tells me," he joked dryly.
She laughed huskily, and leaned forward to kiss him – yes, but what he meant was: he wasn't going anywhere when it came to her, and that was a relief. When college was over and she was standing on her own in the so-called real world, Gibbs would be the only thing really there anchoring her to an old life when she was on the brink of a new one – and that didn't make her feel like she was outgrowing him or like she'd been with him for too long, it made her feel very calm and certain: and that was the feeling she had been waiting for for years – or at least, she'd been waiting for it to settle over her and stay settled, instead of flying off in a panic every few months.
He kissed the corner of her mouth and tapped her chin affectionately, and then he lay back, glancing up at the sky – still light, but getting darker.
"California," he said abruptly.
"Hmm?" she murmured, still a little sidetracked by her thoughts – after all, this was the last day of spring break, and then it was rocket speed until graduation and all these thoughts became authentic reality.
"My number's up for a transfer in September," Gibbs said carefully. "Most likely Pendleton, maybe Okinawa."
"Okinawa?" Jenny asked, snapping her neck around. "Wha—Japan?"
He grinned at her, but waved his hand a little.
"Not likely, Jen," he said. "It's on the list, but it's not my rank anymore, so it dropped down."
"You got promoted?" she asked raptly, whirling around fully and crawling closer to him. "Jethro – when?"
He caught some of her hair and twisted it around his fingers.
"The transfer'll come with the promotion," he said slowly, "if I keep up what I'm doin'," he finished.
He'd found out about it a couple of weeks ago, and he knew it was almost certain he was being sent to Pendleton in a few months – but Marines were never one hundred percent certain, so he was making sure she knew it was just penciled in right now.
"Gunnery sergeant?" Jenny questioned eagerly.
He gave her a blank look until she poked him insistently, and he smirked, nodding his head – his bump up the ranks was going to go through in three months, including a pay raise, as long as he didn't do anything to screw it up – he'd be a gunnery sergeant in June.
"Will I be able to go to the ceremony, or will I be in school?"
"Should work out," he said, and she bent to kiss him, a smile on her lips.
"You deserve this," she whispered into his ear, pressing her palm to his chest. "Your unit really respects you."
"They'll put me in charge of different guys, shape 'em up at Pendleton," he said. His eyes flickered. "Lot of responsibility, for more lives."
"You'll take care of them, Jethro," she said warmly, her eyes firm.
It stung her a little, to know that the more in charge he was, the more likely he was to throw himself in the line of fire so someone else's Marine could come home safe, but she had signed up for that when she started loving him, so she pushed the worst case scenarios to the back of her mind.
"Oooh, San Diego," she breathed out.
"You been?" he asked.
"No," she said, "but I've seen Top Gun."
Gibbs glared at her balefully, and she smirked.
"Do you feel the need for speed, Jethro?"
"'M not a fighter pilot."
"Gibbs – take me to bed or lose me forever!" she simpered – and he kissed her to shut her up, tugging on her hair a little, because he thought that movie was so goddamn annoying and she made him watch it all the time while she tried to brainstorm what his call sign would be if he was a fighter pilot.
She pulled away and sat up primly, fixing her hair.
"Don't take me to bed here, there's some children over there," she gestured vaguely. "Public copulating might infringe on your promotion chances."
He gave her a look and she leaned in.
"Copulation means fucking," she whispered conspiratorially.
He gave her a darker look – he knew what it meant, her science nerd roommate at school had used it all the time just to bug him. She gave him a playful look and turned around.
"I think Gomer Pyle was San Diego," she said, tilting her head up at the sky as he watched her from the grass. "He was a Marine. If you'd prefer Gomer to Maverick, that's your choice," she muttered pointedly.
He sat up next to her, and leaned into her, rocking her a little.
"Jen," he said in a calm voice, pressing his lips to her bare shoulder and waiting for her to turn and look at him.
She did, and she saw his expression was serious. Hers lost some of its playfulness, and she waited, pursing her lips slightly.
"California is across the country," he said.
She blinked.
"Are you completely sure?" she retorted, deadpan. "I thought it was above Tennessee."
"Smart ass," he growled, and she flashed him a smile and a wink.
"I know, Jethro," she sighed. "But," she paused, hesitating. "We handled Afghanistan, we handled Iraq – "
"I don't want to handle this one," he interrupted confidently.
She stopped, her words fading, and closed her mouth, looking at him uncertainly. He had just said he wasn't going anywhere – so what was he getting at? She tilted her head at him, parting her lips to protest, or say something – and then she stopped: she just stopped, and her heart sped up.
"What would you rather do?" she asked – and her voice was shaking.
"I don't want to go to Pendleton without you, Jen," he said bluntly. He lifted his shoulders and looked at her resolutely. "I want you to come with me."
She pressed her lips together.
He ran his hand over his jaw, squeezed his own shoulder, and then reached down towards the grass and put his hand in his pocket, clenching his fist. The next thing she saw, he was holding a wooden box in his hand – smooth, dark wood, the colour of a tree in his father's backyard, but sanded perfectly – and with her initials carved into the box. No –
She reached out and touched it, her hands tracing the fine etching, and she swallowed, her heart tumbling.
"These aren't my initials," she said.
Her last name was Shepard, not –
He clutched the box, and then turned closer to her and held it out, snapping it open in a fluid movement.
"I want them to be," he said gruffly – immediately worried it sounded stupid, but determined not to say anything else for a moment.
She cupped her hand under his, lifting the box – and of course it wasn't a sparkling new, impeccable diamond, but the diamond ring on a necklace he'd bought her in high school, that he'd taken with him on his first deployment, and that she'd told him to keep until he proposed for good.
She felt so strange – she had known logically for so long that she wasn't going to be with any man but Jethro, not while either of them lived and breathed, but she'd kept putting this off and putting this off, and feeling like it was an irritation for him that she was scared of it – and even though it was an inevitability that she'd marry him, somehow this felt startling and wonderful –
"Jen," he said huskily, catching her eye as she looked up at him. "Will you marry me?"
Her fingers brushed the old necklace and her nails caught it and she took it out of the box without looking, her eyes on him. She nodded, and he lifted his brows slightly, as if he were holding his breath.
"Yes," she said, the word tripping out of her mouth quickly, not fast enough, and she shocked herself with how adamantly she meant it, and he gave her a shocked look because – she accepted.
She laughed hoarsely – and he lunged forward and grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her. The box snapped closed and fell into her lap, and he smirked, his jaw hurting from the strength of the smile. She clutched his shoulders, the necklace in her hand, and pressed her head against his neck for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.
She pulled back, and he put his hands on her neck, keeping her close, his eyes on hers. She put her hand over his and bit her lip, her fingers shaking slightly. Her heart still beat hard in her chest, trying to keep up with the nervous excitement coursing through her, and she breathed out, parting her lips.
"You – you've asked before," she said, her voice light. "I don't know why I'm so, so," she tried to put this into words.
"'Cause this time you said yes," he growled earnestly, rolling his eyes – and he kissed her again while she laughed, nodding – yes, that was it: this time she said yes.
She tilted her head back and blinked her eyes rapidly. They were stinging, but she didn't really feel like crying – it was just an emotional reaction. She held up the ring and squeezed his shoulders, turning, gesturing. He took the necklace, and went to fasten it on her again – and he felt so relieved, seeing it back around her neck, knowing now that it was going to stay there forever – it would be with her when he was deployed, from now on, because he'd have a ring, and he'd have her in name.
She turned back to him and pushed him over, leaning over him on the grass and lowering her body to his. She hugged him – lying there for a moment, curled up with him, reveling in the moment, and then she lifted her head, and his hands ran through her hair and over her back and he squeezed her ribs tightly, possessively.
She opened her mouth, and her eyes glittered.
"The night we met," she began, almost accusatory, "You bought frozen yogurt," she remembered – "and we laid here – "
She stopped when she saw the smug, impressed look on his face, and she yanked at the dog tags around his neck, gritting her teeth, trying to hold back a romanced smile. He shot her a charming smirk.
"Got vanilla that night, too," he said brazenly.
She shook her head, and caught her tongue between her teeth.
"What kind of man – remembers something like that?" she hissed, echoing the sarcastic question he'd been shooting at her all night.
He shrugged, and hooked his finger in her engagement necklace.
"Yours."
The necklace, the proposal, the saved daylight – it was all why he knew she'd want to see the Colonel as soon as possible, and he had no qualms about it: he didn't have one stubborn, recalcitrant thing to say – he wanted to see the look on Jasper Shepard's face as much as she did.
He carried her yellow high heels in one hand as they walked back to the brownstone – he kept his arm around her tight, his eyes almost always on the necklace at her throat, and she kept the box he'd carved in her hands, turning it over and over, comfortable in charged, emotional silence, but occasionally talking about what they would do – she wanted a small wedding, in July – not many people – she tried to figure out how she'd announce it in a unique way –
Then they were in Georgetown, standing on the doorstep, and she said:
"You think he'll be happy?"
Gibbs shrugged.
"Not when he hears how many goats I want from him."
Jenny punched him lightly, and stopped a moment, laughing nervously. She lifted her head, touched her lips and took a deep breath – and opened the door. She walked in leading Gibbs – like she had countless times before – and with a grunt and a lift of a scotch glass, her father greeted them from the study.
"You're early," he muttered, eyeing them both briefly as they came into the study.
He rubbed his hand over the three-day beard on his face and gestured over at the liquor cabinet.
"Nightcap?" he offered vaguely.
Gibbs let go of Jenny's hand and she came forward, resting her hands on the desk.
"Where's my Big Mac?" growled the Colonel grumpily.
"Dad," she said, catching his attention.
He looked up, and did a double take.
"What?" he groused, and narrowed his eyes. He flicked his hand over at Gibbs. "Why's he got such a shit eating grin on his face?" he growled. He glared at Gibbs.
Gibbs' smirked more, and the Colonel looked back at Jenny.
"Jennifer?"
She clutched the desk and smiled, rising on her toes a little.
"I'm getting married," Jenny announced, the words slamming together as she tried to get them out elegantly.
Her father blinked, straightened up, raised one eyebrow slightly and then, with an utterly deadpan look and almost impeccable lack of surprise, asked –
"To who?"
Gibbs narrowed his eyes and glared at him immediately, and Jenny's mouth popped open a little, taken aback. She bowed her head and laughed loudly, crouching down a moment and peering at him cutely over the edge of his desk – that look almost got him; she looked like she had when she was tiny and waiting for him to tuck her in to bed.
"Didn't even know you were seriously dating someone," he drawled.
"Dad," she said, her voice muffled. "Daddy," she said again, her lashes moving quickly.
The Colonel stood up slowly, his papers and his scotch abandoned, and he walked around his desk. Jenny scrambled up, stepping back until she was in front of Gibbs. He rested his hand on her hip, and the Colonel jerked his head forward.
"To this smart ass?" he asked, and Jenny jumped forward, a little of the excitement that had been burning in her since he'd asked spilling out.
She grabbed her father by the shoulders and met his eyes earnestly, her lips parting.
"Daddy," she said sincerely. "I am getting married."
He stared at her for a moment, and Gibbs set his jaw nervously.
The Colonel smiled, and he wrapped his arms around Jenny tightly. He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes a moment, and then he ruffled her hair and held her at arm's length.
"Good," he said, firmly and sincerely. He eyed her a moment longer, wondering if this really was his little Jennifer. He swallowed, set his jaw, and stepped around her, striding towards Gibbs.
He held out his hand and cleared his throat.
"Couldn't have asked for a better man to give her to, son," he said honestly.
Gibbs shook his hand firmly, and Jasper threw the rulebook out the window and pulled him in for a quick, manly hug before he released him, and they both turned to look at Jenny. She licked her lips and pushed her hair back, her eyes still glittering – she still felt nervous, thrilled, happy, emotional – and it was late, and she wasn't sure what one was supposed to do immediately after an engagement – Gibbs kept echoing in her ears –
"What kind of man remembers something like that?"
"Yours."
She covered her mouth and laughed, and Gibbs grinned at her – and her father smiled to see her so happy. She met her boyfriend – fiancé's – eyes and smirked, her lips pursing.
"You know what this means?" she asked, her voice eager.
He arched a brow, and before he could say anything, she said –
"I get my copy of Macbeth back!"
oh, the young and the angst-less are so warming to write.
will be followed by: The Gunnery Sergeant's Wife {wedding fic} !
-alexandra
story #210