For three amazing girls – Megan, the most amazing friend I could ever hope for; Charlotte, being an angel and helping me undress, put my hair up, tie my shoelaces, work my can opener…; and Aly, for assisting with the corruption of my mind.
Casting Glory
Jennifer Shepard groaned as she woke up. Not a contented groan, but one of frustration.
Her left arm was rebelling after eight hours with no movement. A lack of any movement led it to die on her every night. And there was nothing she could do about it. Forcing herself to wriggle her fingers, she wondered if she could get away with a day off.
Her thoughts made her smirk. Not a chance. As it was, Jethro was practically on the verge of moving in. Not that she'd normally mind, but the whole broken arm thing was getting on her nerves.
Much to her dismay, she couldn't blame the broken radius on a fight with a criminal. It had been a night out with Abby and Ziva, a trip to see Avatar in 3D. At first, she had thought it was going to be a girls only night – it had not taken long for her to realize Abby was trying to set Ziva up with a very cute guy. In an attempt to make it less obvious, several of Abby's friends had been invited.
The movie had been better than she'd expected. She had enjoyed her evening, despite the three hours of sitting still and the strange glasses that bugged her. It had been late when they'd left, frost covering every surface. She had waved goodbye to her friends, taken two steps and then found herself on the ground.
Abby and Ziva had attempted to haul her to her feet, failing miserably and only succeeding with the assistance of her security detail. She still giggled when she recalled Abby bellowing at them to get themselves to her side.
One trip to the ER later, Jethro had been acting like a headless chicken. Convinced she couldn't live with a broken arm, he had moved in with her for the first week. Although she was loath to admit it, she had needed his help. Unable to put her hair back, eat with anything other than a spoon, carry just about anything, or tie her shoelaces (not that she wore anything with laces at work)…
Now, two weeks later, she was slowly going mad. Jethro had been kicked out and told to keep away. She was supposed to keep her arm elevated at all times – something impossible as far as she was concerned. Cheating was allowed; she had given up typing with one hand and used her few free fingers for everything she felt she could get away with.
Her phone beeped. She didn't need to look at the display to know who it was.
"Shalom," she answered.
"Shalom," came the reply. "Do you need any assistance this morning?"
Jenny glanced at the clock. Ziva was right on time. She wasn't sure if the regular morning and evening phone calls were entirely the Israeli's idea or had something to do with Jethro.
"I'm getting up," Jenny decided. "See you later."
Ziva hung up promptly. Jenny made her personal wager of whether someone was sitting outside her house as she crawled out of bed. No matter how many times she sent Jethro's team home, he always tried to have at least one of them sitting outside in case of an emergency.
One glance out the curtain told her McGee had been the unfortunate agent to spend the night.
Deciding to reward him with coffee if she could actually pour it, she took her time getting ready. Everything seemed to take twice as long to perform nowadays. She took the stairs slowly, wishing Noemi was around in the morning to help her with toast. She could manage, but it was an interesting challenge to keep the carbonized bread still while buttering.
Finally ready, she threw her coat over her shoulders and walked over to McGee's Porsche. Well, if he was going to sit out there, she could have a trip in to the Navy Yard in a nice car for once.
Grinning to herself, she tapped loudly on the video, struggling not to laugh as he woke with a start. Bright red, he unlocked the door and let her in, taking the coffee she had somehow managed to carry.
"Good morning, Director," he greeted her warmly.
"Tim," she smiled back. "Let's see if we can beat Gibbs this morning."
She found it amusing to make it in before Jethro. It was a cross between trying to prove she was capable of looking after herself and just generally annoying her former partner.
The day went well. Cynthia fussed over her, something that was strangely acceptable to her. Jenny knew she needed some help, however much she hated it. She kept her eye on the clock, knowing Jethro would be by sooner or later…
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not a happy man.
In spite of his usual dark moods, he had managed to be especially grouchy for the past fortnight. His team were petrified of him, partly because he could not control his temper and partly because they were all running short on sleep.
Damn Jenny for breaking her arm. Damn the frost she had slipped on. He had briefly considered suing Jack Frost when Ziva had called him from the ER, but dismissed the ridiculous idea from his mind.
It would involve lawyers.
Most of all, he was pissed off at Jenny. For refusing his help when she obviously needed it. For deciding she was independent enough to handle the situation.
He did not feel guilty for making his team sit outside her house all night. What if she fell over and couldn't push herself back up? What if she needed help opening a jar? What if, heaven forbid, she couldn't make her morning coffee?
His lover refused to accept that she couldn't be as independent as she wanted with a cast covering her left wrist and half her fingers. Not to mention her kicking him out temporarily meant he couldn't share a bed with her…
Deciding he would die of embarrassment if he asked Ducky how to make sure Jenny didn't hurt herself, he settled for glaring in the direction of the redhead's office. He didn't like to see her hurt, had hated the impersonal call from Ziva telling him that she was in pain. It wasn't Ziva's fault, but perhaps she had been the best person to call that night. Abby would have worried him and Jenny had not been in any shape to allay his fears.
He sighed, deciding enough was enough. "Go home," he ordered his team.
They glanced at each other, shocked but not prepared to hang around and risk him changing his mind. Almost as one, they raced for the elevator, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Damn Jenny.
Jennifer Shepard smiled as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the crackling fire in her study. The main lights were off; the blaze was the only form of illumination.
Oddly enough, she was content.
Jethro had silently collected her from her office and driven her home, pausing only to pick up takeout. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence – he finally seemed to have stopped being so overprotective and was content to let her be.
Dinner had been eaten on the floor of her study. It was as though they had forgotten why they were arguing, even if he had observed her carefully while she ate with one hand, ready to step in if she needed it.
Now they were cuddled up together, just relaxing. He was running a finger up and down her right arm in a very distracting manner…
She turned her head just enough to kiss him, taking her time, wondering why exactly she had kicked him out a week ago. He could be as overprotective as he wanted if he would kept doing that –
"Maybe we should take this upstairs," he murmured in her ear.
"Too far," she replied, too busy trying to undo his buttons with one hand and failing miserably. Giving up, she simply pulled, ignoring the buttons scattering everywhere.
She didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.
Hands roamed for a few minutes and the world outside the study ceased to exist. Until…
"SHI-"
She was disappointed that Jethro pulled back, but she knew they had to stop, at least for now. It had been silly of her to try to put any pressure on her left arm, but it was a different matter caught up in the heat of the moment.
He ran his fingers along the top of her injured arm, letting her catch her breath and somehow refraining to fuss about it. Breathing deeply, she allowed the pain to fade and made a mental note not to try the same thing again any time soon.
"Sure you don't want to take this upstairs?" He repeated his offer softly.
She smiled, aware it would make this a lot easier on the both of them. She rose gracefully, offering her right arm to tug him to his feet. Smirking, he rose on his own, nowhere near as gracefully.
"Race you," she grinned.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs only needed one glance to confirm his lover was overdressed for this party. Thus, taking his time, he gently evened the score. Slowly. Reverently.
She seemed to have finally accepted she couldn't do everything on her own. Watching him through half-open eyes, she let him take control.
For now.
Deciding it would be easier to get all restrictive clothing out of the way before they ended up tangled in knots, he formed a pile on the floor, kissing every inch of skin he exposed. Above him, she shivered softly. He grinned, glad he could affect her so easily.
When he was finished, he began to maneuver her back towards the bed, kissing her lips and showing her exactly what he wanted to do to her. She groaned into his mouth, attempting to wrap her arms around his neck. The unfamiliar feel of her cast reminded him she was only going to injure herself again.
Gently, he pulled her left arm away from him and rested it on her hip. "I'll tie you up if I have to," he growled.
She grinned wickedly. "And how are you going to manage that around my cast?"
He took a moment to examine the problem at hand. "I'll find a way," he promised.
The back of her knees hit the bed and she collapsed onto it, having completely forgotten of its existence. He used the opportunity to push her further back, ensuring he ended up on top. If she had the upper hand, he knew it wouldn't be long before she hurt herself again…
He kissed her again, distracting her while he pushed both her hands above her head.
"Not fair," she muttered against his lips.
"No ER trips tonight," he replied, finding the weak spot on her neck. She arched off the bed, drawing a smirk to his lips.
"Jethro," she managed to get out.
"Yeah?" He didn't pause in his ministrations.
"Please?"
He smirked again, rather proud of himself. The Director would never beg for anything, but he could always make Jenny plead…
Normally he wouldn't mind drawing it out a little. But it had been a long fortnight without her. They had all the time in the world to play later. Tightening his grip on her wrists, he lifted her hips and pushed into her.
It didn't last long; he didn't expect either of them to hold out. They both wanted the release – slow and steady could come later. He muffled her cry as she came with his lips, crying out himself moments later.
He released her hands and rolled off her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and spooning her. She caught one of his hands and pressed a kiss to it in reply.
As they both fell asleep, he tried to work out when the damn cast could come off. Only another three weeks…
A/N: This started off as a rant due to my broken arm (details roughly described above). But what's been bugging me the most is the loss of independence, something I haven't and I doubt Jenny would take well.
Little back story – very end of November I sprained my patella ligament (my knee). I found myself unable to walk – on my worst days I struggled to get to my bathroom 8 steps away – and had to rely on everyone around me. I'm finally walking again (struggling with stairs but getting there).
Only to promptly break my arm. When I slipped, I used my arm to break my fall because I didn't want to damage my knee again. (My first thought when I hit the ground was not 'Ow' but 'I can't get back up'. Megan deserves a medal for yelling at the guys to help me up – it still makes me smile.) So now, after finally regaining my freedom at the end of January, I lost it all again at the start of February.
I'll end my rant now – typing is taking forever with one hand. Thanks for sticking with me and I'll try to deal with new material as and when.