a/n: Happy St. Patrick's Day ! My second favorite holiday, and I'm in Ireland for it this year !
this lb/sf ficlet takes place before jenny and gibbs are even engaged; even before kelly & mcgee are really serious - so roughly about 3 months before the end of the mother story 'The Lady Boss and the Silver Fox' [which ends with Jenny + Gibbs' engagement in May]. so, this marks the first time i've placed an lb/sf tag within the time gap of the actual story.
He was woken with a pinch.
He twitched away from said pinch and groaned internally, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to remain as asleep as possible.
To his dismay, he was subjected to another pinch, this time much lower on his abdomen and much more threatening.
He groaned aloud.
He was pinched gently on the neck, and then teeth closed over his ear and tugged playfully, and she pressed her lips against the side of his head in his close-cropped hair, straddling his back and lowering herself close to him. Her hands slid down his sides and positioned themselves precariously at his ribs.
"You're not wearing green," she sing-songed softly in his ear, her voice a sleepy, sexy whisper.
His brow furrowed slightly, and he moved his head away from her mouth, turning it slightly.
"'M not wearin' anything," he pointed out in a husky rumble, refusing to open his eyes.
She assaulted his ribs with her fingers—pincers—and he tensed.
"Dammit, Jen!" he growled.
"What sort of man are you, eschewing your emerald on the Saint day of the Patrick persuasion?"
"What?" he growled, irritated—he was half-asleep, he didn't have the facilities to process her prissy prose right now.
"It is St. Patrick's Day, Jethro," she purred.
Pinch.
He reached down and smacked her hands away, opening his eyes and shifting. He found himself staring straight into messy, knotted red hair, and then she pushed her locks back, peering at him with mischievous green eyes.
"You start pinchin' me before I get a chance to get dressed?" he demanded. "Might've worn green."
"You wear blue, or grey. It's a tragic flaw."
"Might've," he insisted stubbornly.
She cocked her brows, and he twisted his arm, winced at the stress, and pinched her in the back of the thigh. She yelped like a puppy, puckering her lips, and widening her liquid green eyes; he tumbled her off him and rolled over, pinning her half under him smugly.
"Can't take what ya dish, Jen?" he teased, bending to kiss her.
She put a finger to his lip – he noticed her fingernails were perfectly lacquered with shimmering green polish – and cocked a brow.
"I carry green with me," she said pointedly. She fluttered her lashes, and pinched his lips softly. "A pity your genetic make-up so egregiously betrayed you."
"Eyes don't count," he insisted, trying to kiss her again.
"Try and deny mine," she retorted flirtatiously, and bit her lower lip—he grinned at her, amused by the antics, and she let him kiss her this time.
Pinch.
"Dammit, Jen!"
He glared at her. She batted her lashes sweetly, and shrugged.
"Ah, and still, mine eyes detect no green," she reminded him loftily, clicking her tongue.
"You coulda warned me," he growled. "Last night, told me to throw on some green socks'n a fake beard."
"Do not be ridiculous, Jethro, no self-respecting Irish girl wants to fuck a Leprechaun," she retorted primly. "I offered to dye your hair green last night."
"Thought you were kiddin'," he said dubiously, his eyes narrow. He pressed closer to her, fitting his body against hers. "You're not Irish."
"Close."
"We playin' horseshoes?"
She flipped him over suddenly, straddling him in pale-skinned, green-eyed, red-haired, naked glory.
"My mother's name was Bridget O'Malley," she informed him, pushing a hand through her hair and shaking it out—as if to make a point, with its colour on her pale skin. "Yer lass is Irish, Leroy, and yer celebratin' the good man's Saint day this year."
She affected a beautiful Irish accent, and he grinned, running his hands over her thighs.
Pinch.
He tried to pinch her back aggressively, glaring, but she caught his hands and fell forward on his chest, breasts against him, hair tickling his chest. She smiled, and touched her nose to his, lingering a moment, taking a deep breath.
"Ah," she sighed. "You don't get lucky until you put green on."
She pinched him six more times before she was out the door for work, and then he felt it was safe to get out of bed – her bed, because with a daughter and a grandson living at his home, adult nights usually had to be spent at Jenny's townhouse.
She was in to the Navy Yard at six-thirty, half an hour before the others, and as Kelly was in at seven, on nights-in-to-morning when Gibbs was at Jenny's, Kelly had to take Levi to NCIS with her, and it fell to Gibbs to pick him up around nine and drag him to Kindergarten.
He stayed in bed, brooding about how annoying it was to be pinched incessantly by a twenty-something year old harpy, and trying to talk himself out that decision he'd made to ask her to marry him eventually, and then he got up and got in the shower.
He shaved using her foggy little shower mirror, since she wasn't around to sit on the sink and watch him shave, washed his hair, dried off erratically, and stormed around her room – it occurred to him he didn't have any damn green in the drawer that belonged to him, and she probably knew that; he'd have to go home before he grabbed Levi, or he'd be pinched mercilessly again – and his girlfriend would probably put her whole team up to it, at that.
He wondered if Kelly had gotten the Jenny's-obsessed-with-Paddy's-Day memo.
He used his knee to slam the drawer shut and threw on – and he didn't miss the fact that she'd been right – jeans and a grey shirt. He went over to her closet and started looking for something that was green and somehow acceptably unisex. He eyed the closet suspiciously—he'd never before noticed how much damn green Jenny wore; his hopes of getting pinch revenge next year were dashed immediately – she'd be ready.
He checked his watch, grabbed a dark green scarf from the shadows of her closet, and threw it around his neck. He threw on his windbreaker on the way out of her townhouse.
Being a man of little vanity, he didn't think to check a mirror first.
The arrangement was a good one; Levi enjoyed being at NCIS for a couple of hours before his school day started, and the team liked Levi. Kelly was fair in acknowledging that she couldn't expect her father to sacrifice all aspects of an adult social life to watch her child, so she took Levi instead of asking Gibbs to drag himself up as early as Jenny and come home to get him to school.
He simply picked up the kid before he went to the recruiting office.
He got off the elevator at squad room level and shot a moody glare at the sickly orange walls, ignoring a strange look an intern gave him as he stormed past. He prowled quietly up to the bullpen, surveying the scene.
DiNozzo had a green silk shirt on; damn, he'd have liked to hear about DiNozzo getting pinched. McGee had a neat green polo on and – the felt top hat on his head had Jenny written all over it, but Gibbs was more concerned that Levi was sitting in his lap, having breakfast – Kelly and Levi were getting awful close to Timothy McGee, if you asked Gibbs.
He turned to see if Kelly was obedient in green, and noted she had a nice, mint green blouse on – right as she looked up and nearly leapt out of her skin, her eyes widening to the size of saucers.
"Dad, what the fuck?" she blurted, and then flushed and looked appalled at herself — too much time around the Navy boys, apparently.
He gave her a stern look – but then Levi started laughing hysterically, and DiNozzo gave a loud, protracted, smug snort – so Gibbs was forced to glare viciously at all of them.
"Dad," hissed Kelly wildly, planting her hands on her desk and staring. "Is that—a woman's scarf?"
"That's Red's scarf," DiNozzo remarked.
"Don't call 'er that," snarled Gibbs, pointing menacingly at the kid – he was territorial of Jen these days; he didn't like that DiNozzo had slept with her, and he didn't like that he called her by a nickname.
Levi was still cackling madly, and McGee was just – staring at him.
"What, McGee?" growled Gibbs.
"You don't look half as scary as you think you do," Kelly snapped at him, drawing his attention back.
He shot her a defensive look.
"I didn't have anything green—"
"So you grabbed her peacock Hermes scarf?"
Gibbs looked down at the scarf – it was not, as he'd though, seeing it in the shadowy closet, a neutral, dark green scarf – it was very patterned, very silky, and very feminine.
"That's what you're on about?" Tony asked, laughing and kicking his feet up on his desk. "Look at the man's face!"
Gibbs rounded on him, his gut twisting—what was wrong with his - ?
"Gunny," Levi laughed, hopping from McGee's lap. "Where's your pot of gold?"
"I believe that's me," chimed in Jenny, rounding the corner.
She pursed her lips, cocked her hip against her desk, and met his eyes – she certainly looked festive, in a deep green pencil skirt matched with a white, orange, and green madras blouse and black as night heels. He even detected green liner around her eyes –
He narrowed his.
"What the hell did you do?" he demanded.
Kelly grabbed his wrist.
"Jesus, Dad," she groaned. "You look in a mirror this morning?"
The next thing he knew, his daughter was dragging him into the restroom, and he didn't even have time to protest that it was the women's, because she shoved him in front of a mirror, and he was suddenly staring at –
Green.
Green hair, and green skin – where he'd rubbed the shaving lotion.
He blinked slowly, staring at himself.
It appeared she had doubted his ability to participate in her festivities.
Kelly put her hands on her hips, swearing under her breath.
"Why didn't you just buy a green shirt?" she asked, exasperated.
"I didn't know she—"
"She's been dropping hints all week!" Kelly cried. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "She's half-Irish, she's a redhead – she's Jenny, you honestly didn't think she'd milk this holiday for what it's worth?"
He set his jaw – Kelly was right; he should have expected this, and worse. There was something ethereally mischievous in Jenny, she acted out like this, and he knew it was sometimes a medium through which to deal with her pain, and he loved it about her – but dammit, he was always on the receiving end of her wildness.
Kelly clicked her tongue, staring at him.
"You're taking my son to school like that," she sighed. She folded her arms. "Jesus, Dad," she said again.
He glared at his reflection. He looked like a damn – a leprechaun. He'd sure as hell look like more of one standing next to Jenny, out there parading around in her Irish flag getup. He mustered the most threatening glare possible, and stormed out of the bathroom, refusing to say anything else about it. He had to get Levi to school – but there was no way in hell he was going to the recruiting office like this.
He'd never be taken seriously as a sniper again.
He stormed into the bullpen, and DiNozzo bowed gallantly.
"Top o' the mornin' to ye—"
Gibbs pinched him before he could get the rest out, and DiNozzo squeaked in outrage.
"Boss, he can't—"
"You don't make the rules," Jenny said from her desk.
She looked up from drawing something on Levi, and smirked wryly at Gibbs over his little head. She put the cap on a green sharpie and put the tip in her mouth, tilting her head at Levi.
She handed him the marker.
"You take this with you," she said, "and you offer it to any other little brat whose dumb parents forgot their green," she advised.
She shot a look at Kelly, and Kelly rolled her eyes.
"Your Mommy was so worried about saving her own ass from ol' Jenny, she forgot to get you green," Jenny said.
Gibbs arched his neck, and saw she'd drawn, and coloured in, a giant four-leaf-clover on his hand.
Levi took the marker.
"I can't draw that," he said uncertainly.
Jenny winked at him.
"Then draw squares," she said. "'Cept on little girls. Draw hearts. But ask them first. And if they say no, don't."
Levi grinned smugly, and saluted her, turning and running to Gibbs. He grabbed his hand and looked up at him, grinning like a little loon.
"You look stupid," he informed him.
Gibbs glared at him, and shook his hand loose mildly, catching Jenny's eye.
"Elevator," he said.
She nodded, and acquiesced – Levi could wait a moment. He flipped off the emergency light and stuck to silently menacing her. She cocked an eyebrow smoothly, her arms folded across her chest neatly.
"Lad, that look's not so intimidating in shades of viridian."
"You coulda just asked me to wear green," he growled loudly.
She pouted her lips.
"Where's the fun in that, Cowboy?" she asked. She tilted her head. She reached out and snatched her scarf off of him. "What's this blarney?" she asked, licking her lips, and then her face changed. "Oh," she said, smirking. "You – you tried!"
She smiled, and leaned back against the elevator – and that's when he noticed the barrette in her hair, a crudely crafted decoration, a tissue-paper-and-glitter shamrock hot-glued to a pin that held back her softly curled red locks. He stepped forward, crowding her, and touched it – it was clearly a child's makeshift gift, and he knew Levi hadn't made it for her.
She lifted her chin up so it bumped his wrist, and her eyes met his through her lashes.
His fingers slipped through her hair to her shoulder, and he grit his teeth a moment, feeling slightly sobered – he'd been hell-bent on doing something evil to her heels when he got back to her place, and now –
"I forgot it was St. Patrick's Day once," she said bluntly. "The other kids in pre-school pinched Peter until he was black and blue."
Gibbs smiled heavily. He touched the clip in her hair again.
"He made it so no one would pinch me."
He ran his hand down her arm, and touched her side, squeezing – and she'd made sure Levi wouldn't get pinched, and she made sure her people wore green, just another way she protected those she loved, and tried to cope. He decided he'd go to the recruitment center like this – and pinch some little shits if they said a damn word about his green jarhead.
"'M still not forgivin' you," he said in a low voice.
She smiled impishly – she so liked that he knew not to get touchy, or feely, or sappy, or any of that – with her – when she was remembering.
She took the scarf, and looped it back around his neck, leaning forward and pressing her green manicured hands against his chest.
"Ye make it through the day, Laddie, and we'll see if there's a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow."
"What the hell's that mean, Jen?"
"It's a euphemism."
She decided to let him work it out, and then tilted her head, biting her lip.
"There's a trifolium tattoo on my ass, temporary," she teased him mercilessly, flipping on the elevator and turning away from him wryly. "You can see it later, oh, Danny boy."
He spent the entire day debating whether or not to look up trifolium in the dictionary Jen had bought him for Valentine's Day, and decided he'd rather be surprised. He found out quickly – Jenny stripped as she walked up the stairs, and he was lounging on her bed when she walked in, naked but for a pair of panties that were cut high, and bared a glittery shamrock tattoo on her ass.
He sat forward, and watched her; she paid him no mind, and waltzed into her bathroom, leaving the door cracked.
He rubbed his faded green jaw and sat on the edge of the bed, debating chasing her.
"Yer in for a treat, Lad," she called from the bathroom, her voice sultry.
"You gonna talk to me in that accent?" he asked.
"You want me to?"
"Yeah," he agreed warily – it was probably a trick question.
"You want me to pinch you, too, you dirty leprechaun?"
"Jen," he growled.
"If you're lucky," she drawled.
He heard a clattering, then silence, and then she opened the door and stepped out – and his mouth went dry.
There was so much bare skin and yet, so much green – she had green eyeliner, green mascara, dark red lipstick, green glitter in her hair, and some kind of – green fishnets, that laced up thigh high, and gave way to skirted panties, and a matching bra – it looked like some sort of Garden of Eden getup, except the green things weren't leaves, per se, they were –
"Damn, Jen," he said huskily.
She walked over to him, letting him pull her towards his legs, his hands running over her bare stomach. She tossed her hair back – the clip was gone, he noticed, and he met her eyes; she silently thanked him for putting up with her, and he smirked, and thought – luck be a redhead tonight.
She pinched him gently, as if to smugly remind him this wasn't a dream.
"What're you supposed to be?" he growled hoarsely, and the look in her emerald island eyes was worth the prank she'd played when she said –
"Whore Leaf Clover."
i am like, magnificently proud of 'whore leaf clover'
sorry for the touch of angst, but. development!
-alexandra
story#195