One of many one-shots that I've had on my computer for months and finally decided to give it finishing touches and get it published. Tag to "Requiem" (5x7), picks up the night where that episode left off. Predictable, a little cheesy, but wonderfully Jibbsy.
He rolled his eyes as soon as he heard the heels click across the floor upstairs. He had a feeling she might pay him a visit tonight. He kept his eyes forward as he sat on his stool by the basement counter, not turning around and acknowledging her even though he could feel her eyes practically burning a hole through his back.
"Special Agent Gibbs," she greeted, trying to get his attention.
He grit his teeth, not sure he could deal with company tonight—especially when it was the Director coming to lecture him. He continued to ignore her as he sat on the stool, looking at the two pictures laying on the counter in front of him.
He heard her descend the stairs and walk towards him, and he felt the sudden urge to hide the pictures—they were personal. He could sense her right behind him and he grit his teeth more, just wanting to be alone. Her finger slowly reached out and touched the corner of the picture of the two little girls reverently.
"Maddie and Kelly?" She asked softly.
He nodded his head in reply, not trusting his voice enough to speak.
"They're beautiful," she said.
He could detect some emotion in her voice and it caught him off guard, he could also sense she was nervous and trying to tread cautiously.
He was caught even more off guard when she pulled her hand back and then rested it on his shoulder, rubbing comfortingly for a couple of seconds before she removed it.
He felt annoyed by how good and soothing her hand had felt on him, how familiar and comforting it was. He felt annoyed that he liked it and that he wanted even more. He didn't like feeling emotionally vulnerable. He had felt like yelling, crying, and drinking all night, and now she was here and he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight or press her up against the boat and get lost in old familiar feelings.
Damn, he really needed a good drink.
He'd discovered when he had gotten home that he was out of bourbon, and he was feeling too drained to go out and buy more.
He glared and picked up the pictures, sliding open a drawer by his leg and placing them gently in it, closing them from view.
He looked up at her, waiting for her to tell him why she was here, waiting for whatever lecture she had planned, and was surprised to see how concerned and pained she looked.
"Jethro—" she started nervously before he cut her off.
"If ya came here to lecture me, Di-rec-tor, I don't wanna hear it," he snapped viciously, getting up from the stool to head towards the stairs to see if he had any beer left in his fridge.
Her hand seized his wrist before he escaped, gripping it hard, and he turned to glare at her.
"I came by to make sure you were all right. I was worried about you," she shot back, the pleading look in her eyes making him feel irritated—irritated because she wasn't giving him a reason to be justifiably angry.
"Suddenly you care how I feel?" He retorted childishly.
A flash of hurt crossed her face, quickly turning into anger, her grip on his wrist tightening. He knew he was being a bastard, but he'd rather fight than open up and talk about his feelings or his past tragedies.
"I've always cared," she said heatedly, removing her hand. "First you charge off on your own, then I send your team after you, and before I know it I get a call from DiNozzo informing me that you nearly died. That he had to pull you from the water and perform CPR and he thought he had lost you for a few good minutes. Do you have any idea how it felt to get that call, Jethro?" She snapped.
He almost interjected that he knew exactly how it felt and even worse, that he had endured that indescribable pain more than any person should—but the tears forming in the corner of her eyes stopped him.
"I didn't come here to 'lecture' you, but if you pull another stunt like that I swear I will fire your ass without any hesitation. Your team is called your 'team' for a reason, they are there to cover you. All of you are supposed to keep each other safe. I don't ever want to get the call informing me that you actually di—" her voice broke and she paused, taking a steadying breath as she looked away from him, her eyes welling as her small voice spoke up again, "—because I can't take it."
A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it off angrily, shielding her eyes with her hand and lowering her head as her shoulders began to shake.
Against his will, he felt all of his irritation begin to melt away as he listened to her stifled sobs. He didn't have it in him to be angry or fight with her when she was genuinely upset—she was not the kind of woman who just broke down and cried. He shook his head at himself for being an ass and stepped closer to her.
"Jen," he said calmly, resting his hands on her upper arms, " 'm fine."
"You nearly died a few hours ago, I wouldn't classify that as 'fine'," she retorted shakily, her hand still covering her face.
He didn't really know what to do, he honestly thought she was overreacting. This wasn't like her.
He pried her hand away from her face so that he could look at her, her watery eyes meeting his hesitantly. He wiped off her cheeks with his fingers and rested his palm against her cheek.
"I'm fine, honest. DiNozzo dragged me to the hospital and the doc said 'm healthy as a horse," he assured her, trying to give her a comforting smile, unnerved by her emotions.
"It could have been a lot worse," her soft voice replied edgily, tears forming again.
He sighed, not sure why she was making such a big deal out of it. It wasn't like they both hadn't had their share of near death experiences before, it was part of the job. Hell, she'd seen him nearly die a couple of times before, not to mention she'd threatened to kill him herself on several occasions.
"It wasn't, 'm fine, standin' right here," he responded, not sure how to get her to relax.
When she stared at him with disbelief in those watery eyes, he did the only thing he could think of at that point to try and comfort her—he pulled her into a hug.
He could feel her stiffen uncertainly at first, but then she relaxed, lifting her hands up and resting them against his chest.
He couldn't help but lower his nose to her head, breathing her in, goosebumps rising as he felt her nose move against his neck, feeling the warm breath from her nostrils. It didn't matter that eight years had passed—she still felt the same in his arms, smelled the same, and was still just as annoyingly alluring as she had been back then.
He no longer felt like wallowing alone in his misery with a strong drink. He no longer wished she would just leave. He felt more relaxed right now than he had in ages.
She pressed firmly against his chest, pushing him away gently, and she wandered towards the stairs, making him feel suddenly cold where he had been warm. He thought she was leaving until he realized she was just grabbing her purse. She rifled through it and took out a few tissues, wiping her face off.
"I'm going to get a headache now and it's all your fault," she lamented.
"Not my fault you cried," he said with a shrug.
"It is your fault, you bastard. You keep doing stupid things without thinking and you are driving me completely crazy. I'm sure Director Morrow had to go home and cry sometimes too."
He snorted, an amused smile on his face as he shook his head, looking back at her.
She bit her lip as she met his eyes, folding her arms uncertainly and looking behind her for a moment to glance towards the stairs.
"It'll be a long day tomorrow, we'll both have a hell of a lot of paperwork to do after the whole 'breaking protocol and nearly dying' incident," she said, giving him an accusatory look. "It's good to know you are just as stubborn and alive as ever...goodnight, Jethro."
She turned, slinging her purse over her arm as she started to head up the stairs.
He felt his mind working furiously as he watched her go up the first few steps, not wanting her to leave yet. He felt like a barrier of some sort had been broken between them tonight, and he knew if she left they'd go back to the way they were before—and right now he really didn't want that—not after feeling her in his arms again, not after her presence had brought him comfort and eased his mind from the heartache he'd been feeling.
"Jen," he blurted out.
She stopped and turned her head to look at him, waiting for him to say what he wanted. He swallowed heavily.
"Don't go," he said quietly, hating the pleading sound in his voice, hating how vulnerable he felt.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she just looked at him silently, seemingly contemplating her answer as she glanced from him to the top of the stairs. She opened her mouth for a second as if she were about to answer but then closed it again uncertainly, biting her lip as their eyes locked.
He said the only thing he could think of, the only thing he knew might make a difference because it had worked before.
"Please?"
Her mouth dropped open, looking stunned, before she quickly schooled her features.
"I suppose I could keep you company for a little while longer," she relented, her lip quirking up.
He couldn't help the relieved smile he felt appear on his face, not succeeding in his attempt to make it go away as she beamed back at him knowingly. She walked back down towards him, leaving a few feet between them, a gap that he boldly filled, walking right up to her. She raised an eyebrow at him, while he looked from her fiery eyes down to her tempting lips.
"I mean, I could use some company. Doc said it would be best if I had someone to watch over me tonight...make sure I breathe fine and 'act normal' and all that stuff," he said, inching his head closer to hers, knowing she'd pull back if his advances were unwelcome.
"Hmm, did you tell him you live with a boat?" She asked teasingly, her breath hot against his lips as she inched closer to him as well.
He snorted.
"Guess he'd be glad to know you showed up," he replied.
"Him? Or you?" She questioned, her eyes piercing his.
He contemplated her for a second before he couldn't take it anymore, finally pressing his lips against hers heatedly, tangling a hand in her hair as he let the other brush up her neck. She kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm, her hands looping up around his neck, her fingers pressing into his skin, their kiss deepening as the seconds ticked on. She broke apart to breathe while he lowered his mouth to her neck, moving one of his hands down to her hip and pressing her against him.
"I don't think this is helping you breathe properly," she pointed out breathlessly with a laugh.
He smirked against her neck, moving back up to look at her again, their noses pressing together.
"You sure about that? I feel a lot better, think kissin' might be some form of lung therapy," he replied mischievously, massaging her hip with his hand, keeping her as close as possible.
"Sounds like a lame excuse to keep me here," she responded with a smirk, her eyes fluttering.
"It workin'?"
"Don't go thinking you can convince me to do whatever you want, I'm still your boss," she said quickly, capturing his lips with hers again for a moment.
"Whatever ya say, Jen," he responded disbelievingly, chuckling.
She reached up and lightly smacked him on the back of the head, shaking her head as he grinned like an idiot.
He decided that maybe almost dying wasn't as terrible as it seemed, because now he felt more alive than ever.