AN: Suffice it to say that updates are going to be erratic. So with no further ado we present you with:
Dawn
There are a lot of firsts in any relationship: the first kiss; the first fight; the first "I love you."
Their first kiss was undercover. And while they were later lauded for such a captivating performance under cover, neither was really acting. Of the course, the other was none the wiser. Jenny merely pretended that her erratic heartbeat was only a result of the stress and adrenaline. Jethro simply pretended that his scattered thoughts were not the result of his partner's proximity. And that Jenny was nothing like Shannon, the temper, the fire, the humor. Totally different, he assured himself, exercising every ounce of self control to keep from taking his and Jenny's masquerade to a more nonfiction occurrence.
Their first real kiss (because there is a difference between a real kiss and one executed while undercover) was on a steamy August night in Marseille, France, and it could have been more ceremonious, and it could have been more romantic, but then it wouldn't have been them.
Their first fight occurred a minute after they met. Calling her 'Red' was not his smartest move, and she had only mustered the restraint to not hit him by giving him a thorough tongue lashing. One that he had willingly reciprocate:
Their first fight was the foundation of their partnership. "You prefer Jenny or Red?" and she immediately knew this was going to be a long assignment, working under Leroy Jethro. And she immediately wondered what she did to piss off the powers that be and invoke such punishment as having him for a mentor. She was a good girl, smart, tough, brave as the best of them. And here she was being called "Red"? Oh no. Oh no no no.
"That depends: Do you prefer Leroy, Jethro, or Leroy Jethro." At least she had been granted the ability to form a suitable enough retort, which she could tell from the glint that entered his blue eyes had earned her some twinges of respect from the silver-haired man that was her boss.
"Gibbs," he grunted, seeming irritated, but she could tell he was actually amused by the fire in her response.
"Jenny," she asserted.
"Probie," he countered and her cooling temper flared.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It's like rookie, Probie," he explained, patronizingly, while grinning superiorly.
She shrugged moving to investigate her new desk, willing to let this one slide. "Fine," she acquiesced. "You may call me Probie, Jethro." And he knew that it would be a long assignment, working with Jenny.
She could not say, however, when she had fallen in love because it happened slowly and all of a sudden. Like sitting in a swing on the porch watching the sky turn from gray to blue and then suddenly you're confronted with the sun. Blazing in its early-morning glory, and even though it is part of your life you still feel like an outsider. Just a witness to an indefinable miracle. . .
So as they make love on a hot night in a place they barely know and it surprises neither of them. They have both been in love since the moment they met. It just took three years, 4250 miles, and two nights trapped in an attic the size of a refrigerator to realize it.
When it suddenly dawns on them, there is no time for thought only for action. The action of lips moving together and bodies combined in a fluid dance older than France itself.
AN: Things I learned while writing chapter two: Writing takes time, I like it back in the day, and natural English speakers can butcher idioms as well. Hopefully midmorning comes a bit faster. Until then please leave a review. :)