"Oh, no, no!"

Gibbs rolled over at the sound, cracking an eyelid only to stare resentfully at the clock, at the sight of the early hour. He considered rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head, blocking out the sounds of distress from the bathroom.

His wife was an early riser, and was usually up before he was, off on a run, or getting things done before she headed into work. But this was ridiculously early for a Saturday.

He sat up instead of going back to sleep, worrying suddenly that something was wrong, thinking of all the times she'd been injured, or sick. If she was bleeding to death on their bathroom problem, and he went back to bed like some bastard used to losing wives, he'd never forgive himself. He threw the quilt back, ready to have a grumble ready about the earliness of the hour, followed by a kiss and a plea to come back to bed. He was prepared to bargain- he'd make her breakfast if she skipped her run this morning.

He pushed open the door, and found his wife sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wearing her bathrobe, her head in her hands. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Her head shot up, and he saw that she looked to be annoyed and distressed in equal parts. "What?" she asked.

"Your voice carries. Probably what makes ya stand out," he shrugged, leaning against the door frame, "Any reason you're makin' sounds of anguish at the crack of dawn on a Saturday?"

"Very talkative," she grumbled, standing up and walking back to the mirror, sighing as she tugged at her hair, "especially considering you haven't had your caffeine dosage for a second."

"Doc said it was bad for my heart," he teased.

"Since when do you listen to your doctor?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Aw Katie, don't say that." He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and leaning his head on her shoulder, "Now. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Gibbs. I'm being silly."

"I doubt that." He bit the edge of her ear, and she swatted at him.

"Stop that!"

"Tell me what's wrong, or I'll continue."

"You wouldn't assault a helpless girl in her pajamas would you?" He pulled her around, and pinned her to the sink, grinning down at her. He was also looking her over, frantically looking for any sign of illness or pain. But aside from the red-rimmed eyes, she appeared fine outwardly. He hoped it wasn't something inside, or he'd be dragging her to Ducky, regardless of it being way too early on a Saturday to do anything aside from pulling his lovely wife back into bed.

"Katie, you're not wearin' a stitch under this bathroom. Ya still can't lie worth a damn."

She pulled the sash a little tighter. "Whatever."

"Now," he stroked a finger down her cheek, watching her avoid his eyes. "Katie. What's goin' on?"

"Look," she pulled a hair away from the mass of hair sticking out in every direction, "Look!"

"Your hair?" he asked, confused. She shot him a look of contempt that made him wince, if only because he'd seen that look on the face of all three ex-wives at some point. "Are ya gonna cut it again?"

"No, Gibbs, it's- ugh, you're hopeless."

"Nah. Just very confused. Take pity on me, Katie."

"Jethro, it's a grey hair."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're upset about a grey hair? Katie… I…" he was struggling not to laugh.

She stared up at him, mouth open, noticing that he was trying not to laugh. "What's so funny about it?"

"Katie. I dunno if ya noticed, but…" he ran his hand through his hair, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God, Jethro, no I didn't mean-,"

He started laughing, as she stared helplessly at him. "Katie, what's got you so worried about a grey hair? It's just one little grey!"

"My mother dyes her hair, Gibbs." She was pouting, realizing her mistake. "She's been dyeing it for like thirty years. She was grey by forty."

"Your mother," he reasoned, "also had five kids, and raised you. I'm surprised she wasn't grey by thirty-five."

She rolled her eyes, "It's just… I'm not as young as when we met. And-,"

"And what?" he demanded. "Ya think just because you're not twenty-seven anymore, I'm not in love with you anymore?"

"No, it's just…" He could see she was getting frustrated, and wasn't sure how to help.

"Tell me what's wrong." He kissed her on the forehead.

"Gibbs, on you, the grey hair looks distinguished… dignified even."

He snorted, but just said, "Go on."

"Plus you look pretty much the same as when we met. In fact, I wake up, wondering where the years have gone. You look the same, Gibbs. And your smile makes you look younger."

"And what, you're worried that grey hair is gonna turn you into somethin' else?"

"I don't want Tony and Tim teasing me about getting old, Gibbs. The older they get, the more invisible women are."

"Katie," he cupped her face in his hands, "You gotta be kidding me. When we met, you told me you grew your own balls! You threatened to shoot me! Ya think any woman who makes threats like that at twenty-seven won't be just as intimidating at forty?"

"I…"

"And trust me," he smiled down at her, "Ya know what I see when you tell me you gotta grey hair?"

"What?" she was starting to smile back.

"I see the mother of my children, the smart woman who was dumb enough to marry me, and the most charming, beautiful if crazy lady who still kinda intimidates me-,"

"No one intimidates you," she interrupted."

He put a finger on her lips. "Shush. Respect your elders."

She giggled, and said, "Elders. You mean you old fart?"

"You just called me distinguished, can't change your story now, Katie. Make up your mind."

"I don't have to make up my mind. And I can still kill you if I want to."

"I know. Find it kinda hot. And do you not like my grey hairs, Katie?"

"You're all grey hairs, Gibbs." She smiled up at him. "Makes you an authority figure. And besides the babes like that."

"Do they? What about you?"

"Am I not a babe?" she teased.

"Objection, counsellor. That's a loaded question."

"Mm." She paused. "Gibbs?"

"Yes Katie?"

"Did you mean that?"

"The grey hairs just mean you're getting old with me Katie. It's all I wanted."

"Past tense?" she asked, taking his hand.

"No. Present tense. I wanted you. I want you. I always want you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "You'll love me even when I'm old and grey?"

"I'll be the luckiest man to grow old next to you," he said, looking down at her. And then he leaned in, sliding a hand under her bathrobe, as he kissed her. She grinned into his lips, his other hand tangling in her hair. Lifting her up onto the counter, he deepened the kiss, trying to say what he couldn't put into words.

She broke away for a second, breathless and smiling at him, "You mean that?"

"Oh for sure. Now c'mon. It's Saturday, back to bed."

She kissed him again. "Thank you, Jethro."

"Anytime, Cap'n."