a/n: my room mate made me do this. but in all honesty, it was written and posted on my tumblr BEFORE McGee's epic "I need to rescue that cat" scene in "Check."
"The Cat in the Tree"
Jenny Shepard was about to hurl her glass of whiskey across the room, because she had been acting incredibly suggestively and pointedly sexy for the past ten minutes for what seemed to be no fucking reason — Gibbs kept looking straight past her, his eyes focusing on something outside her study window. She slammed her glass down and folded her arms.
"Jethro, is the reflection of my backside somehow more fascinating than this new lingerie?" she asked, nodding down at her half-open silk robe and the flower-patterned red and black lace beneath.
He startled slightly and stared at her, looking at her quickly. He nodded, as if to show his approval, and then leaned forward a little, squinting.
"Jethro!"
"Huh?" he grunted.
"What are you looking for — "
"At," he corrected gruffly. "Think there's a cat in your tree."
"What?" she asked, exasperated. She spun around, clutching at her robe a little — as if it mattered if a mystery cat saw her half-naked.
"I don't see a cat."
"You're not wearin' your glasses."
"Neither are you!"
"I got sniper's eyes," he retorted, standing up and striding past her without a second glance. "Sure as hell looks like a cat."
She shook her head, frustrated, and downed the rest of her whiskey, tied her robe firmly shut, and got up and followed him.
"Are you developing dementia?" she hissed at him.
He pointed.
"Look, Jen, it's stuck in your tree."
"And this concerns you .. ?"
"It's November," he said, turning and looking at her rudely. "You got a flashlight?"
"What for?"
"I'm goin' to rescue that cat."
"Jethro, I'm legitimately concerned for your mental health — I was taking my clothes off, and you're — "
"I can't get turned on while a cat's in your tree."
She stared at him as he marched towards her kitchen and started rummaging through her drawers for a flashlight — and he finally found one, but she didn't bother to tell him there was no way it had batteries.
"What are you going to do with the cat when you get it?" she snapped.
"Feed it."
"I hate cats. You can't bring it in here."
He shrugged.
"Then I'll take it to my house," he grunted. "You can come, too."
He opened the kitchen side door to her backyard and went out into the cold. She stood in the doorway, illuminated.
"It's two in the morning!" she groused, wondering if he was drunker than she was, or if he was just actually losing every single one of his marbles right in front of her.
"Jen, it's never too late to save a cat from a tree."
-alexandra
