Saying he's attracted to Gibbs is probably somewhat of an overstatement, all things considered.

It's not the kind of attraction where he wants to strip his clothes off and surrender himself without a second thought. No, this is the kind where he would rather sit and observe the man. He'd notice the way Gibbs' lips touch the top of the mason jar, the slight overspill when he drinks and subsequent trail of bourbon down his chin and neck. The salt and pepper stubble of his unshaven beard and how it followed the angles of his jaw almost perfectly.

If he could spend an hour in that basement, he'd sit there and just watch him, make note of every minute detail and learn every inch of that body before he even got close to touching it.

God help him, Trent thinks and reaches forward to take the coffee mug from Gibbs' hands, he fancies him. That's what this is.

"So tell me about the case," Gibbs says as he sits down on the chair opposite Kort. His jeans cling to his calf muscles and hug his arse, and Trent notices. "What're we dealing with, Kort?"

Right, the case. It''s why he's here, not to have a perv, though he does let his mind wander for a few moments before speaking. Oh yes, good job, Trent, he thinks to himself, you found yourself a man and you can't even touch him.

"A rogue field ops officer by the name of Sobczak," Kort says finally, "Polish descent. I need your help finding them."