Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I dearly wished I do but I don't. I do own a hand-made Caf!Pow cup though.
Written for NCIS Daily
Prompt #1/ April 1st 2010
Time
7 o'clock sharp. Formal dress.
Where are you taking me Jethro?
The ride to the restaurant fell into a silence, not an awkward one mind you, but a silence that spoke for more than words could.
When they stopped outside a classy restaurant that had red velvet curtains outlining the windows, dim atmosphere and looked to be dinner by candlelight Jenny was reminded of a much early memory.
"Are you trying to impose something here?" she turned her head slightly to look at him.
He shrugged one shoulder casually, a gesture so manly and Jenny couldn't help but smile.
He opened the door for her like a true gentlemen and informed the waiter of their party of two. They were led to a small but comfortable booth tucked away at the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes.
As they ordered they made light banter, Jenny having been here before on a strictly professional meeting with SecNav made suggestions as to what were the highlights on the menu. The man sitting across from her merely grunted in response.
It wasn't awkward of embarrassing like that of a first date. No secretive looks, hidden blushes or clumsy footsie underneath the tabletop.
There was that tint of familiarity underneath it all, like what they were doing was innate. Yet there was just enough mystery for it to be not called a dinner between old friends.
He admired the dark blue dress that she had picked out, thin straps that criss-crossed over on her back leaving the viewers from behind a rather gaping view of her pale, creamy skin. Not that he minded though when he gently placed a hand there as he had walked her to the car when he picked her up, and again when he walked her to the restaurant. Jen hadn't complained.
He listened attentively, she did most of the talking. He watched as her lips moved rapidly, and noticed the way her eyes would light up when she talked about a particularly fond memory. She paused mid-sentence when he daringly reached over the table to tuck a piece of stray red hair behind her ear. They stared at each other for a moment, relishing it.
He said goodnight to her on her doorstep. Any other time, she would have asked him to come in, she would have served him some bourbon, both would have gotten slightly tipsy, made out and ended up between the sheets only to pretend everything was normal the next day.
"Good night Jethro."
"Night, Jen."
Time.