A/N: Decided to try and write a fic with a prompt, so I'm going through the old Jibbsfest prompts and writing my own. Please let me know how I did. This is established Jibbs.
Strawberry Cream
The whirring of an unknown machine greeted her ears, causing Jenny to stop in confusion. She listened for a few minutes before moving into the kitchen, unable to id the sound. She thought that maybe he had some sort of saw going in the basement, maybe to do something with the boat that he couldn't do with his hand tools.
But instead she found the source of the sound was a weird white bowl attached to the stand mixer. Jethro breezed into the room from his basement. She walked over and kissed his cheek.
"What are you making?" She asked wrapping her arms around him, needing the comfort to start relaxing her after the stressful week she had.
"Next week we have the block party. I checked with the list and Ice cream was the only thing not taken. And I have all these gadgets for the mixer that Abby got me last year, and an ice cream maker was with them. So I'm trying to make ice cream, but I knew I should test it out. So we have ice cream." He said and she laughed, now used to him using words instead of grunts or caveman semaphore.
"So what flavor have you concocted?" She asked, letting him lead her over to the stand, where she peered over to the white substance slowing looking like ice cream.
"Simple cream based vanilla. Though I did make a strawberry sauce to pour over it. Dinner is on the way, we'll enjoy the ice cream after eating real food." He told her, shooing her upstairs to change into lounge clothes. She smiled before kissing him softly.
They ate a quiet meal and threw the trash away before dishing the ice cream. They decided it needed a little more time to fully set, but the taste was there. And the strawberry sauce had, thankfully, been made from sweet strawberries and set it off perfectly.
After doing the dishes, or rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher Jenny headed upstairs and Jethro headed down to the basement and his boat. She grabbed a book to read while he worked, not wanting to stay upstairs, even though a bath was pretty appealing, especially if a certain, devilishly handsome NCIS agent joined her.
But, alas, a bath was not in the evening's plans quite yet, so she grabbed one of her trashy romance novels and headed downstairs. She read while he worked, relaxing to the sound of him working on the boat in front of her as she relaxed on the couch in the corner.
But her peaceful relaxation was disturbed. First by his grumbling as he needed his tape measure, on the other side of the basement, under a pile of other, sharp tools. He moved over to his workbench and she went back to her book, only to snap her head up when she heard the sharp tools fall as he tried to work the tape measure free.
A string of muttered curses reached her ears as she carefully approached him. He had moved to the stool and sat down, clamping his left hand over his right forearm, but Jenny could still see the blood running down his arm. So she ran upstairs and grabbed a couple clean cloths and turned on the kitchen sink's hot water and raced back down to him. She handed him the cloths and he used them to stem the flow of blood as she led him upstairs to the now warm water.
She used a second cloth the wipe the now, drying and stopped blood to see how bad his gash was. It was pretty bad and without saying anything, left him alone to slip into a pair of sneakers and grabbing her jacket and his. She threw his over his shoulders and led him from the kitchen down the hall and out the door.
She bundled him into her car and drove to the ER, all without saying a word. She knew that by now, if she spoke he'd try and convince her to wait until the next day, or to call Ducky. But Ducky had gone back to Scotland for his reunion and wouldn't return until the end of the weekend; too long for Jethro's wound to wait.
He, sulked, after figuring out that Ducky was gone; so Jen was taking him to the ER. He hated hospitals.
They arrived and headed inside, a cloth still over the gash on his arm and Jen signed him in, seeing as his injured hand was his writing hand. He was given the bracelet and they rushed him through the system and not even ten minutes later he was back in one of the rooms and a nurse was cleaning the wound more thoroughly then Jen had before smearing the ointment cream over it before leaving, letting a surgical intern in.
The intern stitched him up and gave both him and Jenny the care instructions before someone from billing came in and handled the paperwork while the intern got the discharge papers ready. Jethro soon found himself back in Jen's car on their way home, a bottle of pain killers, enough for two days, in one hand and the take-home paperwork in the other.
They headed inside hand-in-hand and Jethro decided to run her a bath to salvage the night, delighting in her tired smile and simple kiss before she undressed and climbed in, watching as he did the same. She refused to move forward so he could slide in behind her, and motioned for him to sit in front of her. He did so and felt her arms and legs wrap around him and her chin rest on his shoulder, kissing the side of his neck softly.
"So much for a quiet evening," she quipped, and felt him chuckle against her hands, that were roving over his chest.
"It's us Jen; I don't expect quiet, ever." He replied and she nodded before leaning back and tugging him with her, relaxing in the hot water and bath oil.