She wasn't alone. Her heart pounded in her ears, as her mind jumped from dead asleep to red alert. She shook off panic, strained to hear and pinpoint the intruder's location in her room. She heard nothing, outside of her own seemingly too loud breathing.
Whoever they were, they were silent, skilled. Kate stretched her fingers out beneath her pillow, slowly wiped her hand across the space. Nothing. A handful of sheet met her instead of the much more comforting barrel of her weapon.
Left with no other option, she waited.
A hand touched her shoulder. Something inside her shifted, the touch too soft to scream of danger. The warmth of it soaked into her skin, warmed her far deeper than its reach. She knew this hand, knew the owner. Her mind just needed a moment to play catch up. Kate slowly slid her fingers around the wrist, ran them over the hair and muscle she found there.
Oh, shit. Gibbs.
A laugh rumbled off him. His other hand wrapped around hers. Gibbs' thumb stroked over the back of her hand just once-the motion left her with far less air than fear had managed, and she refused to think about that fact too hard-before he pulled her hand away from him and stepped away from her and the bed.
"Just me, Kate," he said. The beside lamp flipped on, revealing his crooked smile.
"Sorry, Gibbs."
She really shouldn't start the morning by breaking one of his special rules, but then again, she had already nearly assaulted him.
Only uphill from here? Maybe I can try to shoot him as an encore.
He shrugged.
"Shoulda warned you," he said, eyes meeting hers, holding her there.
Kate sat up, rubbed at her eyes. She pushed hair away from her face, glanced at the clock. 0400.
"Been snowing," Gibbs said, moving for the door.
Kate looked out the bedroom window. She watched the snow fall in thick, heavy, flakes.
"Why'd you wake me?" she asked, returning her attention to him as he stepped from the room.
"Got a case," he said, over his shoulder. "DiNozzo called,"
Right, a case. She'd managed-sometime between discovering how much of her stuff had been ruined and falling asleep in Gibbs' bed- to forget they were on call this weekend. Work wasn't what she had in mind.
The wind howled outside, the branches rattling like she had woken up in a bad horror movie.
I gave up protecting the president for this
(It had been the right move, morally and directionally, of course.)
At least a case would keep her and Gibbs out of the house and out of each other's reach. The less time for her to annoy him, and him to earn his second b, the more likely they would come out the other side of her stay as friends. Or whatever he considered them.
Throwing the blankets off, Kate dropped her legs over the side of the bed. Warm air blew down at her from a ceiling vent and she lingered a moment to enjoy the way the heat ruffled her hair. Glancing at the nightstand, she saw the missing gun. Safety on, base resting against the lamp. She more than owed last night Kate for having the good sense not to shove it beneath the pillow.
She shuffled across the carpet to where she had laid out her clothes. As patient as Gibbs had been in waking her, she didn't imagine it would hold if she kept dragging her feet. So with a sigh a relief at finding the clothes fully dry, Kate yanked them on. She tied her boots, reached for her gun, and shoved it into its holster on the way down the stairs.
Kate jerked to a stop at the bottom, blinking up at Gibbs. She hadn't expected to find him waiting. Or rather, she hadn't expected to find him patiently waiting.
He'd grabbed a second coat, held it out for her now, open and ready for her to slide her arms into. The color matched his, the material just as thick and guaranteed to be far warmer than the one she had managed to recover from her apartment.
His idea didn't lack appeal. In fact, it seemed to overflow with it. Kate wanted to accept, to slip her arms in and turn that coat into a rather unsightly dress. Her mind, however, had always held onto bullheaded pride a little too tightly.
Gibbs' mouth twitched. She knew better than to think her internal debate could remain invisible from someone like him.
"C'mon, Katie," he said, holding it out, giving it a little shake.
Kate took in a breath. Gibbs smiled at her, eyes so uncharacteristically soft, gentle, that she couldn't help falling-give in to whatever he asked of her. She trusted Gibbs with her life, maybe the day had finally come to trust him with her well being.
God knew how often she'd tried to do the same for him.
"Thanks."
She turned her back to him, pushed her arms in as he stepped closer and drew it up over her shoulders.
"Can't have ya freezin'," he said. "No good to me."
When she turned around again, he had produced two cups of coffee-from his favorite place, not from his own pot (which had been less industrial sized than in her imagination)-and pushed one in her direction. The moment of softness had come and gone, work Gibbs returning to his rightful place. She took the cup and he turned away from her.
Gibbs swung open the front door, stepping out and letting in the storm. Air beat against her face, snow melting against her and his floor as he strode away.
"We're late," he called over his shoulder.
Bastard.
She smiled, shut the door behind her and hurried after him.
"Did you sleep at all?" she called above the wind, glancing at him.
He met her eye. He seemed to regret it at once, scowling and doing his best to look more threatening than freezing, and returned his attention to his car.
He unlocked it, slid inside. She hesitated only a moment, thinking of what her coworkers might say if she pulled up with Gibbs after staying in his bed (however innocently). Of course, coworkers meant Tony. And she had no doubt Gibbs would slap him straight if he veered too far off course, right into Kate's sights.
So Kate slid inside, took a sip of the coffee. It did have a hint of sweetener, but would likely still leave her heart pounding like jackhammer in a few hours. She wrapped her hands around it, let the heat soak into her fingers as Gibbs reached out and flipped on the heater.
"Be warm soon," he said, before turning his attention on the road.
Work would likely be hell today, but at least her boss seemed to be in a good mood.
