My first "Slibbs" fic (Jack Sloane & Jethro Gibbs). Most likely just a oneshot, but I'm also not entirely ruling out more. This is just me getting my Slibbs feelings out, since I know the show probably won't ever take the plunge and only ever tease. Anyone who follows me on tumblr or has seen my YouTube video of these two should know how much I adore them.
Of course I had to write a tag to "Fragments". Literally, I nearly died when they held hands. I freaked out. These two drive me nearly as crazy as Jibbs.
The case was over. Ray Jennings was a free man, and old wounds could start to heal.
Gibbs sat at his desk, finishing up paperwork in peace. He had sent his team home twenty minutes ago.
He looked down at his left hand and his mind drifted to the other day when Jack's hand had been in his. He flexed it and held it up, staring at his palm.
He was the one who had grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers, after she had put her hand on his wrist to comfort him. He hadn't really been thinking about it at the time—it was instinct—natural. When it occurred to him that her hand was in his, it had dulled the sadness he had been feeling, and he was somewhat at a loss for words as he stared at their hands. He felt a ping of happiness and peace sear through him.
And then she had realized and she had sat up and pulled away, putting distance between them.
And then the happiness he had been feeling had been replaced with confusion. He almost felt hurt, even though he had no reason to.
He didn't quite know what to think of them. They were good friends, and at the same time many of their interactions could be defined as more than friends. He knew they had flirted with each other several times in the past year. She'd been to his house a couple of times, where they had eaten steak and enjoyed silence and easy banter. They'd spent time in close quarters in cars together or watching interrogations. They'd certainly spent a lot of time in her office.
She'd even spent the night when he'd watched over that little girl. Granted, she had been in the same room with the girl while he slept in his own down the hall—but he remembered having a harder time falling asleep knowing she was nearby.
She was the one person he had told about Shannon and Kelly, and how he had murdered the man responsible. He hadn't done that with anyone else—not even his closest friends or any of his previous wives.
He put his hand back down on the desk, taking in the wrinkles and popping veins. It was probably best that they remained friends. He was far too old for her. Besides, he needed to quit breaking his own rules.
It was hard though, because he liked her. He'd liked her since the day they met. She was incredibly attractive, she had that stubborn flair that he loved in a woman, and she was pleasant to be around. He knew he was too old for her, but she made him feel younger and he liked that.
He just wasn't sure how she felt about him. She had undeniably flirted with him, she had opened up to him, and she did spend a lot of time with him—but she had also never initiated anything more with him, and she had apparently been uncomfortable even holding hands.
He shook his head slightly, deciding it was pointless to think about any of it. It's not like it was going to do any good.
He heard chatter in the distance and watched as Leon and Jack both emerged from down the hall, walking to the elevator together. They passed by the bullpen, laughing about something. He kept his eyes trained on the file in front of him, listening as the elevator ding sounded.
"You getting on?" Leon asked.
"No, not yet, I need to do something before I leave," she answered.
"Okay then. Have a good night, and drive safe," Leon responded.
"I will, thank you. You too."
He glanced over and saw her kiss Leon on the cheek goodbye. He winced, turning his head back to his desk.
He heard her walk over, seeing her emerge in front of his desk out of the top of his eyes.
"Hey," she greeted.
He looked up into her golden brown eyes, shifting his gaze to the bouncy blonde curls that framed her face and then to her lips.
"Hey," he greeted back.
"I heard about the cranberry muffin."
He averted her eyes and shrugged. Apologizing to Leon had been uncomfortable enough—it wasn't really his thing. Not to mention, he didn't really feel like talking about Leon with her right now.
"You goin' home?" He asked.
"Hm, yeah," she said with a nod. "You?"
He shrugged.
"You okay?" She asked.
"Yeah. Just tired," he replied.
"That means you need to go home," she pointed out.
He smirked, looking up at her and meeting her smile. He nodded as he smiled, conceding that she was right as he stood up and gathered his things.
They walked out of the bullpen and got on the elevator together.
"You've got that look, Gibbs," she said as they stood beside each other, echoing exactly what he'd said to her a couple of days ago.
He smirked.
"You know me so well, Jack," he responded in turn.
He could sense she was edgy about something, like she maybe wanted to talk about something and was trying to prepare herself. Hell, he was on edge. He felt guilty about making her uncomfortable yesterday, and he wasn't sure where they stood.
He felt her hand grab his suddenly, making his mouth open and his eyes dart to their hands and then to her face, feeling completely taken aback. When his eyes met hers she looked panicked and made to pull away her hand, but he held onto it, keeping it secure in his.
He smiled at her, interlinking their fingers, watching her eyes and lips go from hesitant to warm.
The ding sounded and the elevator doors opened, and he glanced out, deciding to go with his gut while he had the chance. Age and rules be damned.
"You wanna come over tonight?" He asked.
He waited for a few seconds while she contemplated him, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. She glanced down at their interlinked hands and then looked back up at him, a smile tugging on her lips.
"Company would be nice," she finally responded.
He felt his smile grow wide.
He tugged at her hand a little, pulling her with him as they walked out of the elevator.
"I'm over there," she said, pointing in the opposite direction of where his vehicle was.
"I'm there," he said, indicating with his head.
"I'll be right behind you," she said, giving him a smile.
They released each others hands, and he felt the cool air begin to dry the little amount of sweat that had built on his hand.
When they'd made it to his house he opened the door and held it open for her, following her in.
"Beer?" He asked after he shut the door.
"Yeah."
He motioned for her to sit on the couch before he went into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge. He popped the tops and came back over, handing one to her before he sat down next to her.
"Forty-eight years," she said, shaking her head in dismay.
He nodded, clenching his jaw. It angered him that a man would let another man spend 48 entire years of his life in prison for something he wasn't even responsible for, all because of the color of his skin.
"He's a saint for forgiving him. I think I probably would have killed him," she mused.
He shook his head in the negative.
"You didn't kill the man responsible for your suffering," he stated.
"I wanted to. I thought about all the ways I could make him suffer more times than I can count," she said.
"You're a good person, Jack," he said, reaching out and squeezing her hand in comfort. "You resisted. You let the law handle it in the end. I didn't have that kind of strength."
She put her beer down on the coffee table and then took his from him, putting his down as well. She turned towards him and put her other hand on top of both of theirs.
"I've read your file. I've heard about all the horrible things you have been through. You have an incredible amount of strength," she said, giving him a serious look.
He dismissed her comment with a shake of his head, pressing his lips together and turning to look away.
She reached up and put her hand on his cheek, turning his head back and making him face her.
"You do," she insisted.
He looked into her warm eyes, feeling like there was too much space between them all of a sudden. His face drifted closer to hers and she met him halfway, turning her head a little, his nose brushing the top of her cheek.
He placed a tentative kiss on her cheek, seeing if she would pull back, and then kissed her cheek again with a little more confidence when she didn't.
He moved his hand onto her cheek, his fingers tangling into her hair as he turned her face, capturing her lips with his for the first time. She deepened the kiss, moving her other hand to his shoulder, pulling him closer as their kissing intensified.
Their lips pulled apart and they took a breath.
"Jack," he sighed, his hand moving down on her neck, brushing his thumb across her throat as he kissed the corner of her mouth.
She straightened up, shifting a bit in order to remove her gray suit coat, tossing it onto the table by the beer. She reached over and tugged at his dark one, and he took the hint and took his off, tossing it onto the floor.
She pulled him back to her, kissing him fiercely, her hand gripping his red polo shirt. He pressed her back into the couch, moving on top of her, feeling her legs spread to give him room.
He focused on the way she smelled, the way her tongue felt against his, the way her hands moved around, keeping him close, tugging at his hair.
They got lost in each other, neither aware of the time passing. He finally pulled back when her hips bucked against his.
"Do you want to have sex?" He asked in between breaths.
He was old enough and experienced enough to not be shy or beat around the bush. He needed to know what she did or didn't want before they went any further.
"Yes," she responded breathlessly.
He nodded and moved his lips down to her neck, lavishing it with his tongue and lips as he let his hand wander down the front of her t-shirt, brushing her breast as he moved it down and put pressure on her hip, eliciting a moan from her as he ground against her.
Despite the fact that his couch was fairly cozy, he knew he didn't want to do this here. He wanted them to have more room, and for her to be comfortable. He also knew he'd feel sore if they ended up falling asleep here too.
He broke apart from her and sat up.
"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand as he stood. "Bed is more comfortable."
He woke up, turning his head and looking beside him. He smiled as his eyes blinked and adjusted, taking in the sight of her laying beside him, her hair spread over the pillow. She was on her stomach, her head turned away from him, the sheets only halfway up her back.
He stared at the scars there, not even wanting to imagine how painful it would have been. He felt a flare of anger for the man that was responsible.
She had been a little hesitant about taking off her shirt last night, and at first had seemed uncomfortable with ever exposing much of her back to him. It apparently didn't matter that she had shown them to him before, she was self conscious about them. He had done his best to make her forget all about it.
He turned to his side and reached out, gently brushing his hand down the scars. He leaned forward and kissed them, feeling her stir as he gently trailed his lips up to her neck.
"Mm, morning," she said, her voice thick with sleep. She turned onto her side to face him, her eyes drooping and blinking rapidly as she tried to keep them open.
"Mornin'," he greeted, pressing his lips to hers for a quick kiss.
"What time is it?" She asked tiredly, her eyes fluttering closed again.
He glanced at the clock.
"After seven," he answered, admiring the view of her on her side, the sheets only up to her stomach, the rest of her pale, bare skin exposed to him.
He settled back down into the bed and pulled her towards him, rubbing his hand up and down her back as he nestled his face in her neck, breathing her in.
It had been years since he had woken up with a woman in his bed, and even longer since he had felt truly happy about it. He was also more tired than he would like to be—he didn't have the insatiable sexual energy that he used to.
He took a long breath in through his nose, kissing her neck a little, moving the hand on her back down to her hips, relishing the way her body felt against his.
"I'm not sure this was a good idea," she mumbled, opening her eyes and looking at him.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Office romance is never a good idea," she clarified.
"Yeah," he agreed, chuckling.
"I was sick of tiptoeing around it though," she said, rubbing her hand down his arm.
She moved closer and nudged him down, shifting on top of him, resting her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, brushing one hand through her hair and one down her back, caressing the scars.
After a while she sat up and straddled him, pressing herself against him as she languidly kissed his chest.
"Now that we've crossed the line, may as well enjoy it for all it's worth," she commented against his skin.
"Not as young as I used to be," he warned.
"I think you underestimate both of us, Cowboy," she purred, drawing promising kisses down his chest and naval.
He certainly had.