A/N: Even though I'm writing the author's note right now. I've still got no clue whether or not I'll make this M rated. I think I'm just going to fly by the seat of my pants and see what I come up with. Now if this does end up smut, it'll be my first time writing it. So, bear with me here. New idea for a story though! I just got through watching Dirty Dancing how about a fic with Jenny as Baby and Jethro as Johnny. What do you think? Of course, after I finish OPERATION: Break the Tension
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN NCIS
The car ride was silent, but far from awkward.
It had always been like that with them, quiet but comfortable. The only uncomfortable silence she could ever remember occurring between the two of them was in Paris after she had accidentally told him she loved him.
Of course only one of them could tell the other that they loved them and make it seem like an accident.
Silently she pushed those thoughts aside, there would be no 'I Love You's' tonight. Of that she was almost positive. So, instead she focused her full attention on the very enjoyable route his hand was taking on her thigh. Never one to be out done she stretched slightly until her lips landed on his neck, right at his pulse point.
She could feel his heart beating out a steady rhythm. And suddenly it hit her, he almost died.
She could have lost him.
This, whatever it was, was almost destroyed. Without any hope of revival.
That was all the incentive she needed to start moving. The desire to feel more of his skin was so strong she had to stop herself from crawling up onto his lap. Instead she settled for nipping, sucking, kissing the side of his neck. Adding her own bruise to the myriad of them that covered his tan skin, and not denying herself a smug smile at the fact she can still make him moan.
Vaguely she had to question the validity of letting a recovering coma patient drive, but it was that or her security detail. And she highly doubted they'd appreciate the way his hand snaked up her blouse the way she did. Or, the moan that was ripped almost violently from her when she felt his warm hand come up to fondle her covered breast.
They continued that way for a while. Her, marking any piece of skin her lips could reach. Him, moving his downright sinful hands to cover every inch of her. Except, the one place she was getting the most desperate for his touch.
Eventually, he slowed the car to a standstill. A little shocked that they could have arrived wherever he was taking her that quickly, she looked up.
And saw that they were at a familiar intersection.
From personal experience she knew; a right would take them to her house. Where he was almost surely going to drop her off and leave her to spend the night alone, in her own personal domain. While continuing straight would take them to Gibbs' house. A place that's door was never locked, a place of safety to anyone who was brave enough to seek it.
"Where to Jen," he asked gruffly. And looking him in the eye she knew how they would spend their night was entirely up to her.
"Take me home Jethro," she replied in a hoarse whisper. His hand restarted it's movement under her top, and her lips continued marking his collarbone.
While they went straight.
They arrived at his house considerably sooner than they had the intersection. As soon as the car was at a halt both wasted no time in throwing open their doors and bolting up the front walkway.
Just as she was reaching the, hopefully, still unlocked front door she felt two large hands slide around her hips. Immediately she was transported back to less than a hour ago, where the feeling of his hands on her hips had been quickly followed with her legs wrapped around him. She prayed that was the case here.
Apparently though, he wasn't going to give into her needs that quickly, instead he spun her around and pushed her backwards until her back hit the the cool wood. Desperate to close the gap between them, she looped her fingers through his belt loops, and pulled him against her until it was his body pinning her against the door.
In the darkness of the night surrounding them, she felt his lips against her neck dragging open mouth kisses slowly upwards, and his hand making it's way fluently down the row of buttons on her blouse. Again the same wave of desire that had first hit her in the car came at her again, and before she realized it her hands were shucking off his jacket and skimming along the naked skin of his back underneath his own shirt.
As the heat of his mouth rose higher and higher, she started to squirm, a pressure was building. A pressure so exquisitely painful she couldn't bare the thought of breaking it just yet.
She was tempted, so very tempted, when she felt his hands worm their way under her bra to tease her nipples into tight peaks. Even more so when his lips moved to press kisses to the corner of her own. It wasn't until she moved her head slightly to the left, and those very warm lips caught her own, that she gave in.
It was like they were in the bullpen all over again. The feel of their lips together again, and it was enough to break this facade of gentleness. Leaving them only with an overwhelming urgency.
There was no hesitating in the way his tongue parted her lips, exploring her mouth without waiting permission. But, Jenny was far from caring when her own hands where currently employed in the task of getting his shirt off.
It was a struggle, their position was awkward, and her hands kept tangling against his own. Reluctant to remove his hand from their current position, and equally less enthusiastic to remove his tongue from it's current job. Letting out a frustrated groan, she did the only thing could, she ripped it down the middle.
Neither of them gave a second thought to the buttons that were tumbling down his porch steps, or the ripped shards of fabric that were shuffling in the breeze. As soon as the shirt fell apart, her hands were on him. Moving all over him, and her mouth taking him in like a cool drink of water, and yet she still wanted to be closer.
As if reading her mind she felt him move one of his hands out from her, surprisingly, still fastened bra, lightly trace down her ribs, and come to rest on her thigh. She couldn't help it, her automatic reaction was to roll her hips forward, coming into contact with his own. She grinned when she heard him hiss.
Not one to be deterred, Gibbs' hand continued down over her khaki clad thigh, over her knee, and curved around the back of her calf. With a gentle tug he brought her leg around his hip, anchoring them together. The only thing still separating them was that damn denim.
She was going to start wearing skirts.
Blessedly, soon, she felt calloused fingers tracing her waistband. Pulling her mouth away from his to, finally, get a breath, she was able to assess the situation.
A slow fire was burning in her, lapping at her body, threatening her control. It didn't help the fact that Jethro's fingers were getting closer and closer to the button on her jeans, and she hated to stop him. She had to though, because what she had just remembered, was that they were still outside.
About to fuck each others brains out.
Against Jethro's front door.
Before the teeth pulling her bra strap down, could drive her to the point of not caring. She reluctantly removed the hand that was entwined in his hair, not ready yet to remove the hand clutching his shoulders, and slammed it back behind her.
Where the hell was that damn doorknob? It was as if the world was against her, and was going to make her push him away just because she couldn't open the-.
There...
"Oooff"
All breath left her body when they hit the ground, Jethro settled on top of her. After blinking back stars, she focused in on two baby blues hovering over her, against the black backdrop.
"What the hell Jenny?"
She let out a breathless laugh, her senses were slowly starting to return to her, and with it the realization that she could feel every inch of him.
"You really wanted to have sex outside?"
"We've done it before," he said. That insufferable smirk that she loved to hate so much, curled his lips slowly. She knew what memories were flashing behind his sapphire orbs, they were assaulting her too. Memories of stormy alliances in the back alleys of so many countries, when adrenaline had been running high, and both were desperate for skin on skin.
"Not in a family neighborhood, Jethro," she said before she thought about it. It wasn't until he grimaced that she realized what she said could be interpreted differently, she wasn't used to monitoring what she said around him, but the memory of his departed family was still too fresh in both their minds. Not wanting the elephant in the room to ruin their night, but making a mental note to confront him about it later, she untangled a leg out from under his and wrapped it around his waist. Pulling him down so that his hips were cradled against hers and his nose was gently touching hers, she moaned, the weight of a man had never felt so good.
It looked like her plan had worked because he trailed his lips over her cheekbone, catching her earlobe gently between his teeth, sucking softly. Her breathing was becoming steadily more shallow, and seemed to stop altogether when his husky voice whispered in her ear.
"Upstairs, Jen."
Without waiting for a reply, he sprung lightly to his feet, and reached a hand down to help her up. Taking his hand he pulled her up, letting go of their clasped hands she brazenly moved her hand over the tent in his pants. Cupping him gently, she grinned when he threw his head back and groaned.
It lasted only a moment, quickly he threw her hand off, and a little put off she drew back with a wary look in her eye.
'Maybe mentioning family had ruined everything.'
Instead of drawing back and going into his basement like she half expected him to, he spun around, shut the front door, and...
Locked it.
Quickly he turned back around and, in a move so quick she almost missed it, crashed his lips onto hers. Tongues resumed their dances, hands continued their paths, hips remained teasing. So much so, that they were at the foot of the stairs when she realized they weren't going to make it to the bedroom after all.
And she was okay with it.
Large hands came to rest on her shoulders, and pushed her back into the wall of his front hallway. When morning came she'd have to remember to talk to Jethro about his propensity for having sex on every flat surface but a bed. If he was there when she woke up, that is.
'Don't think about that now.'
She would cross that bridge when she came to it.
His rubbed against hers roughly, she could feel his hardness on her thigh, and it sent shock waves straight to her warmth. There was no teasing, they'd both had enough of that for one night, as she reached for his belt buckle with trembling fingers. Swiftly, with some help from him, the belt came off, landing with a clatter on the wooden floors. He reciprocated by reaching once again for her pants button, this time though, she let him. Leaving her standing there in a white satin bra and matching pair of panties.
Their eyes locked, both of them darkening with the force of the lust they felt, she felt him grip her waist again, and lift.
If this was going to be a remake of the bullpen scene, she was determined to change a few things. With her back against the wall, Jethro between her legs, and most importantly no audience, this was finally going to happen.
As he roughly brought her lips back down to his, Jenny could tell he was thinking along the same lines. A hand wedged between her and the wall, and with a deft flick of his fingers her bra was off. Leaving her ample cleavage bare.
Breaking from the kiss she gasped.
"Jethro, get your damn pants off."
He didn't reply, instead he was solely focused on marking her lily white neck with harsh nips. Getting frustrated once again at how much freaking clothing he seemed to wear, she wiggled a hand between their hips. Managing to unbutton and unzip his pants was no easy task, but as soon as they were her feet huried to push them down over his hips. Finally, finally, the only thing separating them was his boxers and the thin scrap of satin she called underwear.
As his tongue thrust into her mouth, his fingers trailed across her shoulders and down the flat plains of her stomach. Coming to rest on the inside of her thighs, he was so close.
Again she ripped her mouth away from his, sucking in greedy breaths that he'd robbed her of, in her hoarse voice she plead.
"Please Jethro, no more teasing."
Catching his eye, she saw the satisfaction, and realized something. The smug bastard had been trying to make her beg.
She was too far gone to care.
With one last quick kiss to her lips, still holding her gaze, his probing digits slipped under the white satin.
And ripped them off in one quick pull.
Briefly she felt like complaining, then she remembered the ripped shirt that was probably still hanging off the railing outside, but it was more to the fact that he was now stroking her swollen lips. Causing her warm wetness to trickle down her thigh. Looking back from where he had been intensely watching the liquid running down her inner thighs, he asked her in a throaty whispered.
"I do this to you, Jenny?"
It was most likely the use of the name Jenny that did it to her, it was a name he mostly only used in the bedroom, but whatever it was caused her to reply.
"That and so much more, Jethro."
She arched her back off the wall, arching into him, when his hips thrust against hers. His clothed hips. While he busied himself testing her, obvious, readiness for him. She dipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, yanking them down, she almost laughed with happiness when they slipped easily from his waist to pool at his ankles with his pants.
His hands moved from her exposed sex to grasp her hips, in a hold so tight that she knew she'd have bruises in the morning. And, without warning he thrust up again.
Burying himself in her right to the hilt.
For a moment she couldn't breath, she couldn't think, all she could do was feel. Feel his hot, hard flesh filling an aching emptiness that she hadn't even been aware of.
He didn't give her a chance to regain that breath either.
Pulling all the way out, only his tip was still in her, he slammed back into her. And didn't stop.
To anybody else, it would have been frightening, the way they went at. It was as if he wanted to bury himself inside her permanently under her skin, hiding from the harsh reality that he'd have to relearn all over again. If it was possible she would have let him.
Her breast were heaving, bouncing up and down, unrestrained. It was inevitable when he caught a enlarged nipple in his mouth. Suckling roughly and running the tip of his tongue around her rosy bud, she was suddenly very aware of the tension in both their bodies. And the fire, it was back, that delicious fire running through her veins, trailing across the paths his fingertips took.
Down under her naval. Skimming lightly where they were joined, straight to her clit.
Rubbing the hell out of her, her muscles coiled tight, the fire lapping at her she managed to gasp out a question.
"With me. Jethro? With me?"
Her nipple fell out of his mouth with a soft, 'pop'.
"Yeah, yeah. Cum for me Jenny," he ground out between clenched teeth. Now that her nipple wasn't between his lips, he had nothing to help him hold out for her.
So, she let the fire overtake her.
She disconnected from reality. The only thing she was aware of was, Jethro. Her hands were claws on his shoulders holding on tightly, her legs were constricting him, loving the feeling of his seed filling her, she was holding onto the only person that had ever made her feel safe.
Vaguely she was aware of the fact that she was yelling. Disjointed, garbled words. His name, among other things; their past together, the way he made her feel, how fucking sorry she was.
It was the closest they'd get to 'I Love You's' tonight.
When her vision returned, and she realized she was not made of boneless muscle, she managed to unlock her legs from around his waist. Guiding her to the floor, and making sure she could stand, he took her hand.
Turning back to the staircase, and stepping out of the pool of his clothing, without a word he guided her up to the staircase.
He took her to his bed that night, where the made love till the wee hours of the morning.
Her last coherent thought was that she hoped he was still there when she woke up.
The mid-morning sun filtering through his blinds was what woke her up. Stretching languidly, she had a brief moment of confusion when she realized she wasn't in her own bed, and that she was naked. Then it her-
Jethro.
Hesitating, she debated about what she should do. She didn't hear any breathing from behind her, but Jethro had always been a very light sleeper.
'Get it over with quickly.'
She braced herself for whatever she might find and, before she lost her nerve, she rolled over. A breath, that she wasn't aware she was holding, exhaled. Which quickly turned itself into a choked back sob.
The bed behind her was... empty.
Despite that there was a little glimmer of hope in her when she lifted a trembling arm to feel the bedsheets. This time it was harder to hold back the sob, because the spot where his body was supposed to be laying was ice cold.
'He didn't make any promises' that little voice in her head was back again. But, it was true last night there hadn't been any promises made. Honestly, after that first time in the hallway she didn't remember talking at all.
Defeated, she lowered her hand back to the sheets, already making plans about what she needed to do she almost missed the faint crinkling of paper when her palm hit the mattress. Almost.
Confused, she didn't pause in lifting the covers back and pulling out what appeared to be a thin sheet of paper folded in on itself. With the single word Jenny printed on the front.
Her heart stopped. This was to reminiscent of a scene in Paris, only this time it looked like she was the victim. He wasn't cruel enough to do this, was he? Did he just hate her that much?
Did he feel like this when he found a piece of hotel stationary with the word Gibbs scribbled on it? Did he feel like this when I didn't even bother to write the word Jethro?
'It was too personal,' that little voice whispered the excuse she had told herself six years ago. And it, she, was right. It was too personal, but what she wouldn't give to see that hated nickname written. It was the least the bastard could do.
Riding the new found unrighteous anger, she gathered her strength, and flipped open the folded paper harshly. Her eyes scanned the page.
Dear Jen,
I know the rule against apologizing. Hell, I was the one who created it. But, wasn't it you that once told me that rules were meant to be broken? So, and this stays between you and I, I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I know what you must have thought seeing this letter. I never meant to hurt you, and this isn't a goodbye letter.
No regrets,
Jethro
P.S. Don't forget your coat. It's in the hall closet.
Silently she took in his words. Over and over again, as if they would disappear if she just looked one more time. Each time they were still there. It wasn't until her 5th time reading it that she realized wet blotches had been steadily appearing on the page.
Incredulously, she realized tears were making wet tracks down her numb face. Despite every warning she'd given herself, every moment last night when his kisses had gotten to be too much, and she'd let herself believe for a moment that it wouldn't be gone come sunrise. She felt cold.
Though it hurt like hell, she read through his letter again, before her tears ruined the ink beyond legibility. She let out a bitter laugh when she came to the part about it 'not being a goodbye letter'. It sure as hell felt like a goodbye letter!
She was 'thrown for a loop' when she got to the part about her coat. It just didn't sound right...
Her Agent Jenny devoted mindset kicked in. And it hit her what was wrong, she hadn't worn a coat last night. And if she had, she was ninety percent positive that they wouldn't have taken the time to hang it up. Considering both their shirts had been shed on the porch.
Throwing off the covers, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Wearing her birthday suit. She scanned the ground looking for any hint of clothing that might be lying around. The only things she saw was a white USMC t-shirt with black lettering hanging over the arm of the only other piece of furniture in Jethro's otherwise spartan bedroom.
With a resigned sigh, she crossed the room on shaky legs, throwing the shirt on in one fluid motion. She was momentarily assaulted by the unique scent of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Taking off, before a sob could break through her facade, she threw open his bedroom door and took off down the hallway.
Descending the staircase was another matter entirely, there was still a dull throb between her legs, making it awkward trying to maneuver stairs. Combine that with the fact that she was looking anywhere but at the spot of their little reunion last night, well she was lucky she didn't fall and break her neck.
She started breathing only when she was within a grabbing distance of the doorknob on his small hallway closet. Making the decision then and there that she wasn't going to act like a woman out of a horror movie and drag it out. She turned the knob and slowly opened the door.
Revealing a space, that was more like a cupboard than a closet, but was totally empty. Except for one little box in the far corner... She recognized that box!
It was enough to bring her to her knees. She felt like she couldn't breath, like the breath was locked in her lungs. Leaning forward she crawled on her hands and knees to the box. Now, not caring that she was half naked, in a dark closet, of a house that was most likely never to be used again. Her attention was focused solely on the box as she lifted the lid.
A coat was there. But, of course she already knew it would be.
She also knew exactly what that coat would look like, how the clean leather would smell, how it would feel on her naked skin.
It was her coat.
And he'd kept it.
She lifted the beautiful piece up, and drank it in hungrily. Reverently she ran the her fingers over the material, and it felt exactly as she remembered it; soft, smooth, and supple. It was made of fine Italian leather, the kind she'd bought her coats in ever since.
While she was caressing the coat like a lover would, she heard that crinkling again. And froze.
'No. No. NO! Please Jethro I know I hurt you, but don't make me look at this. Don't let this be what I think it is.'
She screwed her eyes shut, and took the plunge. If this was what she thought it was, she'd find her pants and escape through the front door. And never look back again.
'Sure. Run away again. Give him another reason to hate you.'
Who was she kidding? If this was what she thought it was, then he would have made it pretty damned clear that he didn't want her. As much as that would hurt, she'd accept it. She wouldn't have a choice. Just like she hadn't left him a choice.
She pushed her hand into one of the cool pockets, and extracted the piece of paper.
'What the hell?'
Even though she still had her eyes closed, something about the paper she was holding didn't seem right. She knew what that sheet of paper felt like. She knew what every crossed t and every dotted i looked like. Hell, she still had the words she'd written ingrained on the underside of her eyelids.
This wasn't right.
What she was holding was a; thick, rectangular, glossy sheet of paper.
Not a; thin, square, papery letter.
Barely letting herself believe, she opened one eye in an undignified wink.
What she saw made her mouth drop open in a gape. Looking her in the eye weren't the words Dear Gibbs. Instead she read the words Dulles International. What she was holding was a plane ticket.
A ticket to Mexico.
The chime of the grandfather clock that she knew was located somewhere in his house brought her back to the present. Not giving herself time to think, she scrambled to her feet. She needed to hurry.
She had a plane to catch.
I'm exhausted. Another sequel? Anyone?
You know my rule.
You don't like. Don't review.
'