Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, MTAC or anything you recognise in this story. How I wish I did.
A/N: I found this hanging around on my hard drive from what feels like a long time ago, so apologies for not posting it earlier. I had started this out with two images in my head, accompanied by two lines of dialogue. Jen holding Jethro's face in MTAC, saying thank you and the next Jen coming down his basement stairs saying, "Show me again?" Not my best work, not even close, but anyway... First two sentences are stolen (almost all of them anyway) from a much loved film I have known since I was very young, I wonder if you can guess which one?
Summary: When they need each other, they're always there. Jibbs.
Always
This had all happened before and it would all happen again. But this time, it happened in MTAC. It had been a long day for Director Jenny Shepard. Most of it had been spent in the tactical assistance conference room, with very little light, even littler coffee and little to no satisfaction to be gotten from her time spent video conferencing. She'd had rather a loud row with the Director of the FBI this morning over custody of their suspect in the murder of at least three marines, including a Gunny and a Colonel. Since then, she'd been calling in a lot of favours and had managed to handle the situation though she suspected there might be some flack to be taken later on. For now, all she wanted to do was sit and think about nothing except how much her hands and feet were killing her. Little did she know she would not get that opportunity.
Jethro Gibbs had just wrapped up his case for today and was on his way to leave when a thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind surfaced. He hadn't seen Jenny all day. He'd heard from tail ends of discussion that there had been some problems with another team's case, involving both their Director and the FBI's, along with a world class pissing match by the sounds of it. He knew Jen could take care of herself but he couldn't help but think maybe he should go see how she was.
Things had been changing for them recently, not things he could put his finger on exactly but the atmosphere between them was definitely easier and he felt more confident in going to see her to ask for things and about things now than he had before. He knows just like he knows her that she will need someone there with her right now. To remind her that she was doing the right thing, that she was the best at what she did and she needed to believe that.
Loping up the stairs in the middle of the room, he cast a quick look back over his shoulder to see who else was in the building. A couple of Agents hunched over their desks, finishing paperwork probably, and the cleaning crew beginning their rounds. Thinking it was not likely they would be disturbed, he let himself into MTAC and didn't lock the door behind him. It took a few moments for his sight to adjust to the dark but he soon saw his target. She was sat poker straight in the front row of chairs, the screen in front of her empty and there were no techs anywhere, presumably because she'd sent them out so she could clear her head.
She didn't even look around when he came in, somehow knowing it was he and it was ok he was there. He was glad of that; he didn't want to fight her to help her tonight. He approached carefully, eyes sweeping her figure to assess what he was dealing with. Her hands were curled into tight fists, nails digging painfully hard into her palms, her neck taught and strained, and he knew without asking that her head was pounding. He didn't speak, just took a seat next to her and slotted his coffee cup into the holder next to her. When she didn't reach out to take it, he lifted his own hands from where they had been resting on his thighs and placed them over hers. He didn't imagine the sharp intake of breath from her when their skin touched.
Ignoring the sign for what it was, he lifted her slim fingers from her lap and brought them towards his, feeling with practised ease the way her muscles were coiled beneath his fingertips and knowing instinctively which places to apply pressure in order to help her unwind. Slowly, after about a minute of gentle tugging, he managed to uncurl her fists and smooth out her hands on the armrest. Her head remained facing forward, eyes never glancing from the screen she'd probably been glaring at all day, though he suspected her thoughts were very much centred on the sensations he was creating on her skin. The thought pulled a little smirk from him, which he was glad she could not see.
Turning over both her hands by the wrist, he carefully inspected her palms, making him squint slightly in the half-light. As he'd suspected, there were far too many crescent shaped bruises straying over that pearly cream skin, from beneath her knuckles to the base of her thumb and her wrist. Carefully, he brushed his fingertips over them, rubbing the skin in soothing circles over each of the marks to erase the blemishes she had imposed upon herself. First to one palm, then the other, he directed this attention, not paying any heed to the expression on her face as he did so. If he had, he might have drawn away. He would have seen first a flare of defensive anger light her expressive green orbs, and then when that retreated, a new and dizzy mix of emotions emerged. Hunger and passion balancing with uncertainty and regret.
Many times in their partnership had he devoted time to her hands, she'd never managed to hide how sensitive they were. Within a few days of their first mission, he'd know she had a tendency to let them get far too cold, that she did not look after herself very well. She ate, she slept, but she paid little regard to the condition of her body as long as it was fit to perform for her job. He'd changed that; he'd made her take the time to enjoy the pleasures her body could afford, and when he'd found out about her inclination to dig her nails into her palms when she was frustrated, he'd always paid particular attention to her hands, brushing light kisses to every fingertip and along her lifeline. It always made her eyes roll back in her head and he loved seeing her loose that control.
He knew what he was doing now was dangerous for both of them, in this dark room, with them so close together they could hear each other's breath getting more ragged by the minute. Him because memories of them together in a more intimate embrace than they had shared in years were hitting him hard and fast and there was no way he could be oblivious to the affect those images were having on him. Her because the touches he applied to her hands he knew would be fluttering over her mind, echoes from another time long ago shifting around her, making her remember, and they both knew their situation was anything but resolved. The knowledge that this couldn't go any further was weighing on both their thoughts but it wasn't enough to make him stop or her pull away.
Jethro counted briefly the number of marks he had left to massage away and he disappointingly realised there were very few left. She had to know the decision to let this continue lay with her. He had the choice to carry on touching her despite not having a reason to once the last bruise was soothed away, and giving in to the demands of his heart and body, he made what logically should have been the wrong one. He continued, running his calloused fingers over her velvety palm, knowing where the key to her stress points were, using them against both their sense. He felt rather than heard the low groan she released as he applied just the right pressure to just the right spot and her straight posture melted away as she sunk into the chair, tension from her neck eased away in a few seconds.
Again, he couldn't help but smile a little at how well he still knew and understood her. Deciding he had to take the relaxed edge to her expression as an acquiesce, he slid his long fingers underneath her wrist and under her knuckles, slowly lifting the now tranquil limb from the armrest towards his face. She didn't seem to be aware of what he was doing and he thought maybe she didn't care, as long as he kept trailing his skin against hers. That slight smile still playing across his lips, he leant forward and pressed a feather light kiss to the middle of her palm, at just the right place to get her attention. Instantly, he felt a shift in her and when he opened his eyes, he hadn't realised they'd closed upon the contact of his mouth with her hand, he found her head had at last turned to his.
There were no questions in those eyes of hers, no indecision. He knew they'd at last come to the cliff face they'd been avoiding since her return to his life. He found that although he'd expected to feel hesitant, he wasn't at all. He was just as ready as she to fling themselves back into the storm that was their unique blend of romance. Her eyes roamed over him, gaze soft and enquiring, wondering what he was thinking but not at all concerned. They both had realised in the last few minutes that no matter how hard they tried, what was between them could not be denied any longer. He pressed another kiss to the inside of her wrist, just above the pulse point, and he again heard the sharp intake of breath he'd known the action would induce.
The light in her eyes shifted from gentle, calm, to something he recognised from many years ago. Hunger. Lust. Passion. Heat. Her fingertips itched towards the side of his head and he loosened his hold on her arm to allow the touch. Her cool skin collided gently with the edge of his hairline, dusting across the short, coarse hair and gliding over the top of his ear, making his eyelids slide closed once again. He heard her body shift, move towards his in the dark, and her other hand come to rest on his chest, over his heart to feel his heartbeat start to increase. Another habit he remembered all too well. The familiarity made his mouth open slightly, his breath washing over his lips in a warm wave, and he took a deep draw of the cool air around him to replace the sigh that escaped him.
It was then he felt another source of heat only a few inches away from his face, her breath settling against his cheeks and eyelids, heady with her warmth and her scent. He almost opened his eyes, he knew a glance then would be rewarding as her eyes also drifted closed and her lips neared his with a dizzying directness but as the thought to lift his eyelids registered, so did the sensation of her lips covering his and all though fled abruptly. Instinct took over. His hand slid down her arm to curve around the base of her neck, drawing her closer, eager for more now he had tasted her again. Their mouths danced together, nipping teasingly, before moving slowly against the other, drawing out the moment and driving them both crazy.
Just as his other hand snuck over to rest on her thigh, he felt her begin to slow them down and draw away, and although he wasn't content with it, he let it happen. As her face withdrew, became visible to him again, he knew without a doubt that the feelings that had engulfed him this evening were not one sided. The blissful smile covering her lips said as much. Slowly, torturingly so, her eyes opened and focussed on his face, and he could barely name all the emotions that flashed through the forest of emeralds just then. So much joy, so much hunger, so much caring. It was an unchangeable fact that their relationship was now different to what it had been this morning. He half-smiled back at her, the lop-sided smile she had always said she loved, and brushed a few light fingertips over her cheeks and eyes, tucking a couple of copper strands behind her ear in a familiar gesture that made her smile grow.
"It's good to see you smile Jen." He whispered, his tone warmer than it had been in years and his gaze echoing the sentiment. A faint blush lit the tops of her cheeks and she flicked her gaze away, towards the door behind them.
"Same thing applies to you Jethro." She murmured back, lowering her head with a shy smile. It was such a welcome change, this was the Jen he had fallen in love with all those years ago. While he admired the kick-ass, can-handle-herself woman she presented to the world, he loved the subtle, half-shy woman beneath. Slipping a hand down the edge of her face, he tucked a couple of fingers underneath her chin and brought her face back up to meet his. There was so much happiness shining from them both just then. He quickly ducked his head towards hers and pressed a gentle but firm kiss to her mouth again, filled with emotion and so many confessions he would not say out loud. She returned the gesture, nuzzling against him almost, before breaking slowly away once more.
As they edged away from each other a second time, he caught the way he eyes flicked towards the door again and knew her logic was returning. Accepting that they could not continue this now, he cast about for another option and then spoke quietly, a hand resting on her lower arm again,
"I'll come by tonight." Her expression softened as she met his eyes after those words, understanding without questioning how he knew the direction her thoughts had taken. Her hand lifted again and grazed the side of his head for the last time in this meeting, and the instinct to close his eyes flared within him once more. Then she stood slowly, twisting from the awkward position facing him had entailed and reacquainting herself with how uncomfortable her killer high heels really were. His eyes flickered over her body, right from the ivory neck to the impossibly tall shoes, appreciation she once would have challenged clear in the look. It was a nice change when she merely gave him a mock-glare in return and went to move past him, towards the door, a smirk sneaking across her lips as soon as she was a few feet from him.
Just as she was about to pass him, she paused and her head faced him for a few seconds as her hand, drawn by what proved to be an overwhelming force, once more curved around his cheek. He placed one of his own, larger hands, over hers and pressed his face into her palm, reminded of how this entire meeting had started and gratefulness for the result swamped him. Then he looked up into her eyes and saw the Jen he'd seen awoken earlier shining back at him, wanting so desperately to stay and complete the reunion they'd started. But they both knew it would have to wait, if only for a few hours.
"Thank you Jethro." Her voice echoed a little in the empty room and he was glad of it, it meant he could hear the hope, happiness and warmth in her tone more than once magnified. Everything that was in her eyes was reflected in her voice in those words. Then, she was gone, striding towards the door and not looking back and he knew it was because she was been stretched towards too much temptation. They'd already been far too lucky today in not getting caught. Despite the sensibility of the thought, he still couldn't help but miss the weight and care of her hand on him already.
Jenny slipped her coat off her shoulders and hung it unhurriedly on the hook by the front door, a familiar and undeniably comforting smell wafting towards her from the door down the hall. Sawdust. Bourbon. Him. She knew he was down there, had been for a few hours, probably since he'd left work. She'd been hoping to leave with him but paperwork had kept her back, with a promise she would join him as soon as she was able. They'd been spending as much time as they could with each other over the two weeks since that night in MTAC. Even now, the Director could not think of that day without a bright smile, that night had been truly magical and everything she could have wanted it to be.
Over the last fourteen days, they had reawakened many of their old traditions and tonight would be the last of them. For the most part, they had spent time at her home, because she was the Director of an Armed Federal Agency and he was concerned for her safety and security but for the last few days, she had been tempting him with memories of their time spent at his home, and at long last he had given in to her, given her permission to come around to him tonight.
It was a victory in many ways. By letting her come here, it meant he perhaps was accepting she did not need protecting as much as he had made himself believe. It also signified he was at last completely comfortable with their renewed relationship and was willing to make a place for it in his life. Letting them make more memories in his basement, the place that held the most importance to him, told her he was ready to admit they were in this together and for the long haul. That he had accepted the memories would stay pleasant this time. That they were not about to make the same mistakes again. Like she'd said, a great victory. She had achieved his personal trust once more.
Breathing deeply, she let the scent that always led her mind straight to him drift around her, tickling her senses in a delightful way. Then, letting out the tremulous breath she'd drawn in, Jen walked leisurely towards the door that was slightly open and through which she could see a faint light. Another of their traditions. He had left the door open slightly to let her know where he was when she'd first become an Agent and had been getting used to him; it was an indication of whether he wanted to be found or not. If the door was closed, then Jenny knew he wanted her to leave. Not that she'd always done as he'd told her, she thought with a small smirk.
Pushing the entrance further open, she paused at the top of the stairs to adjust to the dim light, watching for the first movement that would tell her where he was. Then a clunk from behind the boat, out of her range of vision, gave away his position and she smiled, turning slightly to move down the steps with a light, easy step. It was strange but the patterns of the wood those stairs were made of were so well-known to her even now, when she'd only seen them maybe twice or three times in eight, possibly nine years. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he moved out from behind the boat and placed the tool he'd been fetching from the workbench onto the wooden side of the half-finished hull.
Jen didn't approach straight away, instead she stayed by the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the structure as memories, feelings, images washed over her, leaving an aching remembrance of what it felt like to be down here with him when she'd been younger, and a wondering uncertainty about what it would feel like now. He flicked a glance her way, clearly as lost in the past as she, and for a moment neither of them moved as their eyes connected. They knew the same flash was showing behind both their eyes.
"I don't know how you can stand it down here, no wonder your eyes are giving out on you." A younger Jen Shepard grumbled as she sipped at the chipped mug he had handed to her a minute before hand. The bourbon was a welcome warmth and scent, but even more welcome was the smile he shot her way when she'd finished speaking. She'd been expecting a mock glare for daring to mention his eyesight decline, but he'd taken it as the joke she'd intended and that had to be a good sign.
"You gonna come help, or not?" He shot back, the grin quickly masked and hidden, pausing in his work to meet his partner's eyes. This woman never ceased to amaze him. She was so different to any he had encountered in his life, different to all his ex's, different to Shannon, different to all of them. He knew his thing with redheads was down to his first wife, the love of his life that had ruled his thoughts and actions since the day he'd found out about their deaths. Every redhead was a replacement, trying to find one who could be like Shannon, who could fill the void. Jenny was not like Shannon, yet he could feel himself falling for her anyway. He wasn't a fool, he recognised the twisting in his heart, the need to be around her, close to her, the need to treasure her, he knew what it meant. In a way, he couldn't believe that Jen had been the one to bring those feelings out in him, but in a way, he knew why. Jenny was unique, a complete match for him in every way.
He let his eyes wander over her, enjoying seeing her flush of pleasure at the admiration in his expression. Then he tipped his head towards the wooden side he'd been leaning on and grinned invitingly, his right arm uplifted and angled on the hull, while the other hung by his side, holding the tool. He watched as her eyes switched between his casual stance and the boat she knew he loved so much. If she had taken any longer to move forward, then he would have thought she was hesitating, but then she pushed herself away from the workbench and sashayed her way towards him, a dark gleam taking over her eyes that sent an excited shiver down his spine.
"If you'll show me how." She bargained, stopping her slow gait right in front of him, her front brushing him, her gaze flicking pointedly over his body just as his had done a few moments ago. He smirked, pressing a little closer to her than she'd already put herself, brushing a light kiss to her cheek as he slipped an arm around her back and drew her around him, so she now faced the boat, and he curved himself around her small form, loving the feel of her body completely fitting in front of his. Sliding his arms up the sides of her body very slowly, he nuzzled gently at her neck, still smiling, then placed the tool on the wood with one hand while he lifted her hand to fold her slender fingers over the sander.
"Just follow-" He began, murmuring in her ear, nudging her hair towards the back of her neck, kissing up the tendon that ran beneath her ear.
"You?" Jen offered, challenging him, bumping her hips back into him with a smirk of her own.
"The grain of the wood." He finished calmly, pressing a deeper kiss to a spot just below her jaw line that he knew always made her breath hitch for a second. The answering silence from her brought another satisfied smile to both their lips, and he let that quiet hang in the air as he placed his hands carefully over hers, to guide them over the wood and teach her how to find the right places to apply pressure and where to glide over the surface without touching the wood.
"Show me, Jethro?" Jen asked quietly, and he was almost certain she was a little unsure of his reaction. So he did what came naturally. He reacted out of instinct. He pushed himself away from the boat and fed the tool he'd been holding onto the supporting beams between the half-finished hull, so he had his hands. Then he moved forward, stalking towards his Director with an intent neither of them could mistake. Both of their eyes had darkened significantly by the time his hands alighted on her hips. Her tongue snuck out to flick over her lips and his eyes followed the movement with a definite edge of hunger to his expression.
"If you'll follow-"
"You?" He almost laughed at her answer, which he had expected her to give, before he nodded in reply. He knew he'd surprised her when both her eyebrows shot upwards, she had thought he would follow their pattern from before. But he wanted to make this time different, he knew how things had ended last time, he didn't want it to be the same this time around. Before she could open her mouth to ask him about his answer, he gripped her waist lightly but firmly and drew her forward, towards the boat but instead of turning her around to face the wooden structure, he backed her against the hull and without pausing for a second, leant his body against hers to hold her there.
Only then did he freeze for just a few seconds, looking straight into her eyes. There was an electric current that ran through both of them in that second before they joined once more, a twitching of lips and eyes that betrayed just how much both were longing to be against each other. Then they both inclined their heads towards the other and at last, they kissed again. It was like being completed. They were back where they belonged.