A/N: Thanks to aserene! I have started working. Waitressing is stressful...because people are crazy.
Jenny Shepard stood in front of the kitchen microwave, tapping her foot absently as she watched the timer countdown slowly. She glanced over her shoulder at her colleagues in the kitchen with her. She'd forced them to open the thin curtain covering the kitchen's sliding doors and the covers on the windows even though Jethro had protested; she liked the sunlight.
Ducky sat composedly at the table, perfect posture as usual, a file opened in front of him, and Jethro stood against the counter next to a window looking generally grumpy and bear-like. Ducky was slowly working through the salad he'd fixed himself for lunch after their grocery trip while Jenny fixed her own lunch, and Jethro stood there muttering about waiting to eat until after they learned their mission.
Jenny had smartly reminded him multi-tasking was a requirement of NCIS agents and he'd shut up and resorted to mild glaring.
"It might be a good idea to invest in transportation," Jenny said, narrowing her eyes at the microwave to make it go faster. She was starving; last night's pizza hadn't really held her attention for long, not to mention how fast it had been worked off.
Jethro snorted.
"Buy stock in the metro?" he asked patronizingly.
Jenny lifted her eyebrow at him over her shoulder.
"No, Jethro, I was talking about a car," she answered, deciding not to be as rude as she'd initially wanted to be. Ducky looked up at her with interest, and she could tell at least he held her opinions in some regard.
"So we don't depend on public transport solely, you know," she continued, stopping the microwave right on the dot with a triumphant look and yanking it open. "There's a risk there since you sometimes need an ID for tickets, or if there's an issue with something. The less we use IDs the better,"
"Need an ID to buy a car," Jethro pointed out obnoxiously, and Jenny glanced at him again, glaring. "More paperwork, too. You leave breadcrumbs with paperwork,"
"Rain on my parade why don't you?" Jenny muttered. She pulled her bowl of instant macaroni out of the microwave gingerly, careful not to burn herself, and shut the little door as she turned around to mimic Jethro's stance opposite him.
"Surely there are ways we can get a car," she said, blowing on the pasta to cool it.
"Or we could use public transport," Jethro responded almost petulantly, watching her. Jenny put her spoon in her mouth and glared reflexively without malice, content to let him act manly and bossy if he wished. She noticed him looking at her mouth and licked the spoon provocatively when Ducky wasn't looking.
She widened her eyes innocently when he glared and shifted, looking away.
"Come to think of it," Ducky piped up suddenly, looking thoughtful, "There just may be an old friend of mine in the area who would be able to acquire a car."
Jenny looked at him in mild surprise. Ducky looked hesitant for a moment and then amused, glancing between them both.
"How opposed are the two of you to less than legal means?" he asked with a small smile. Jenny couldn't help but grin.
"You know an illegal auto dealer?" she asked incredulously, abandoning Project Drive Jethro Crazy with a Spoon to actually eat her food.
"Oh, my dear—"
"You'd be surprised who Ducky knows," Jethro snorted, interrupting. Ducky just chuckled.
"She lives in Lille. I'm sure I could arrange something...providing, as I said, unlawful means don't rub you the wrong way."
Jenny smirked disbelievingly.
"Ducky, our presence here is illegal," she reminded him.
"Ah. Therein I have my answer," the medical examiner said with a wink.
"How do you plan on explaining why you need an undocumented car, Duck?" Jethro asked, with the air of someone who'd just blown holes in a brilliant plan. Jenny gave a minute eye-roll that he miraculously saw and glared at her for.
Ducky smirked himself, laughing.
"Oh, no worries there. She won't ask one question; the thrill of adventure and risk itself is enough for Dahlia."
Jenny smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at Ducky.
"So your vagabond contact is a lady," she commented. "Romantic history? From your rebel days of car thieving, Ducky?"
"Nothing quite so exciting, Jenny!" Ducky laughed, waving her off. The corner of his mouth turned up in a secretive smile. "Though I'm sure she would tell you a different story…or two—"
"That you do not want to hear," Jethro muttered ominously; in a way that made Jenny seriously wonder what crazy things Ducky had gotten up to in his younger days. Ducky just smiled mysteriously again.
"Don't dare listen to him, my dear; I was a perfect gentlemen from the day I was born," Ducky informed her.
"Yeah," Jethro snorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "and Jen used to be a blonde."
Ducky just smiled and shook his head, while Jenny laughed derisively. She was slightly surprised he'd used the shortened nickname in company and figured it was a slip of the tongue.
"You may never know what secrets someone's past holds," Ducky said mystically.
"Hey now," Jenny said, mock chastising, "I was never a blonde."
Ducky chuckled, and tucked back into his salad. Jenny took another bite of her macaroni and Jethro cleared his throat impatiently, tapping the brief he had sitting next to him on the counter.
"Ah, yes, of course," Ducky said, gesturing for Jethro to go on. Jenny ignored his stares for a few seconds before sighing dramatically and turning to flip her own open.
"Why don't you eat something, Jethro?" she asked, leaving the open brief behind her and turning around to face them both fully again. She shrugged. "It might make you less moody."
"Not hungry," grunted Jethro, waving her off.
"Yes you are," Jenny muttered under her breath. He glared at her and she clamped her mouth shut, gesturing for him to go on.
"I'm not gonna read it to you," he said, picking his file up and holding it.
"I'm eating. I'll read it later. Or, since you're so impatient, you can tell me about it," Jenny suggested brightly. Ducky watched the exchange with mild interest, already in on the details of their ongoing op.
"Multi-task," Jethro said, pointing at her brief. Jenny rolled her eyes, dramatic again, and turned, leaning her hip against the counter and tilting her head to read the cover page. She sped-read, occasionally shifting her weight or flipping a page to scan the bold words or what looked important. Frowning slightly, she ate her macaroni and ignored the short conversation Ducky and Jethro carried on, blocking out there words.
"This is unconnected to Marseille," she heard Jethro mutter, and she flipped another page over, looking over a profile of someone. It may be unconnected with the Marseille stakeout, but the overall concept…
"—was Marseille, by the way? Decker seemed to think it was some kind of punishment from Morrow."
Jenny turned slightly, glancing at Gibbs through her eyelashes to see what he would say. He caught her eye briefly.
"Wasn't that bad," Jethro answered slowly, his voice careful.
"Perhaps because you seem to get along better—you know, Marseille really is a lovely place—"
Ducky began to babble and Jenny smirked over her shoulder at her partner, so many other ways to describe Marseille coming to mind. Considering how smug his eyes were, she guessed he was thinking along the same lines. She wasn't expecting Ducky to address her, and startled when he did.
"Hmm?" she asked distractedly, looking up and trying to pretend she hadn't just been making eyes at Jethro across the room.
"I asked what you thought of the experience," Ducky repeated calmly, "it being your first overseas assignment and what not.
"Oh," Jenny said, shrugging mildly. "It was hot," she answered mildly, forcing a smirk down and mentally ordering herself not to dare glance at Jethro to gauge his reaction. Ducky nodded sympathetically, and seemed like he was waiting for her to continue, but Jenny just bit the inside of her lip and looked nonchalantly back down at her brief.
Jethro buried his own smirk and dropped his brief on the counter where it had lain previously. He strode across the kitchen and opened the fridge, rummaging around. He came up with a beer and shut the refrigerator.
Jenny turned another loose page in her brief and found another profile staring at her. She flicked through the next few; same thing.
"This may be unconnected to Marseille, but the idea isn't much different," she said, dropping the papers and turning her back to the file, having seen enough of it to gauge their mission and be slightly uninterested by it.
Ducky looked up at her waiting, and she remembered he wasn't privy to the Marseille details and backtracked, steering the conversation in the direction of what they were to do in Paris and only Paris instead.
"Intel and counter-intelligence," she elaborated mildly, finishing up her lunch lazily, "the photographing, the watching, no approach-no contact policy—intriguing but hardly massively dangerous."
Jethro narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
"Don't think like that," he ordered, stepping away from the fridge and standing in the middle of the kitchen. "It's much more in depth. Terrorists, insurgency cells, arms dealers; it's ten times more in depth and risky. Men like this won't hesitate to put a bullet through your skull faster than you can blink if you drink suspiciously," he said harshly, giving her a hard look.
"I wasn't down-playing the risks," Jenny retorted, slightly offended, "You have to agree that it's not as dangerous as infiltration or impersonation."
"You treat it as if it were," Jethro responded sharply, and Jenny glared at him. She hadn't been trying to sound flippant or dismissive of the operation; she wasn't stupid enough to think it was a piece of cake to go unnoticed when you were keeping a close eye on someone even from a distance.
"We're almost working blind," Jethro started; Jenny interrupted.
"We have profiles, known associates—these targets have the disadvantage, no us," she said, this time a little flippantly.
"Wrong," Jethro said sharply, focusing on her, "and never assume that. We have suspected felonies, tentative associations, and faces; we do not have cold hard facts, and we don't know how much they know about our surveillance on them. Don't think this is a laid back deal—"
"Don't for a second think I do," she interrupted shortly. "It wasn't what I was expecting; I anticipated more of a hands-on strike. Compared to what I imagined, this came off as less threatening. There wasn't a need to lecture me on the importance of my job—"
"You underestimate your job for a second, in paper or on the field, and that's a difference between—"
"Life and death," snapped Jenny, interrupting again. She closed her mouth and glared at him bristling. She wasn't sure what prompted his launch into lecturing and arrogant-superior mentor, but she resented it.
"Jethro, I'm sure Jenny didn't mean—"
"No, Ducky, it's fine," Jenny waved her hand with a smile at him, never one to let others fight her battles for her. "He's doing his job."
It was disconcerting to be treated like a probie suddenly. She questioned herself briefly about what kind of treatment she'd expected and realized she might have stepped in something complicated if she'd really thought Gibbs would stop telling her what to do because of Marseille.
She looked at him tensely in the silence, tapping a nail softly on her bowl. She put it down and folded her arms, blinking animosity out of her eyes and trying to shake the annoyed and slightly hurt feeling. She shouldn't have underestimated the job, but it stung to be called out like that, and in front of Ducky, too.
Jenny couldn't read the look in Jethro's eyes but he took a drink, and gave her a searching gaze over the top of his beer before going on, unfazed.
"Now it's a matter of organizing," he said, walking over to the table and pulling Ducky's brief towards him. He flipped through the profiles. "We have known locations of business: night clubs, obscure museums, parts of the city. Diversity on their part in order to throw law enforcement off the scent," he shut Ducky's file, and looked curiously at his old friend.
"Duck, what are your explicit orders?" he asked, breaking off his mission train of thought. "You don't do field work," he paused, leaving the sentence open.
"My extensive contacts," Ducky answered, shrugging. "It seems the Director took a look through my Royal Navy file and found my European knowledge and experience would be helpful."
"Why not send you to Deck and Kasey?"
"Am I not wanted here, Jethro?" Ducky joked mildly, smiling. He shrugged again. "My guess would be their mission is not the same."
Jethro nodded and looked up at Jenny, mulling over the thought. She drew her lip into her mouth absently and chewed on it; curious about the contacts and experience Ducky spoke of. Jethro set his beer down on the table and dropped his hand to rest on the file, staring at Jenny's mouth.
"Organization," he muttered, snapping out of it and drawing his eyes back up to hers. She just lifted an eyebrow ever so slightly, as if to admonish him.
"We focus on the locations listed. Duck, you'll deal with the Intel: cataloguing, filing, talking to these contacts of yours. Jenny and I'll work the surveillance and underhanded manipulation," he made sure he had Jenny's attention, speaking directly to her now. "We'll have to be vigilant. Mark times the targets frequent locations and be there, blended in and watching, every day, on the hour," he informed her, all business.
Jenny nodded, rubbing her lips together. She thought of the constant work that would take and an alarm bell went off in the back of her head—not because of the work but because of a risk she perceived in his orders, a risk of exposure. She started to speak and hesitated, holding back.
"And we've got to lay low at all other times; minimal activity when we're not scout—"
"Wait," Jenny murmured quietly, shaking her head slightly. She saw Ducky giving her a look like she was crazy but she ignored him and looked up at Jethro, furrowing her brow.
"It's not a good idea to go about it this way," she said slowly, flinching inwardly at the flash of annoyance in Jethro's blue eyes.
"You'd rather announce our presence?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, Jethro," she paused, looking at him meaningfully, "but that's what you're basically suggesting." She finished, picking up steam.
He looked at her like she'd lost it, glaring. Jenny pushed on, reluctant to wait for his next dismissive or derogatory comment.
"Think about it," she went on, her confidence back, "think about other people. Bartenders, club owners, those who know who frequents their clubs. They're not our targets, but they'd notice us if we showed up at specific times always, watching, and we're new visitors they don't know. People would ask questions; and we'd have to rely on false back stories," she paused, a little encouraged by the fact that he hadn't yet yelled at her, "If we are noticed, our targets might be alerted, and then they pay more attention only to notice we've started showing up at their other meeting places to and like that we're compromised,"
Jenny stopped, pursing her lips; glad she'd been able to voice that. Jethro moved his head almost imperceptibly left to right and leaned on the table, looking at her with a slightly patronizing look.
"Your suggestion?" he prompted, and she stiffened at the hint of mockery.
"It would be better," she said slowly, making it clear she was irritated with the treatment, "to ease in slow. Actually live the city like new citizens; see the sights, show up occasionally at the locations and target spots—uphold the cover. Flurry of activity on our part, acting normal, not just blatantly scouting specific places, is better than bursts of suspicious watching and lurking—Jethro, it's plausible," she broke off, snapping at the look on his face.
"It sounds like a trick on your part to use this as some kind of vacation," he retorted, snorting, "Sightseeing? Do you want to go shopping, too, and maybe take a glance at a terrorist on the way out? You can't use this mission to explore Paris like a tour—"
"You know damn well that's nothing like me," she interrupted sharply. "Blow off the job to see the city—what the hell is wrong with you? I have a valid point; working like you suggest will draw attention to us!"
"Not if you know how to blend in, how to lie low," Jethro argued tightly, "which you should have learned how to do flawlessly by now. We can't risk missing something—"
"Why? We're not allowed to touch them anyway, only report!" Jenny elevated her volume, glaring.
"Look," she said heatedly, pushing away from the counter, "when you're sixteen and you sneak into a bar, do you keep sneaking into the same one every night? No! That's begging to be noticed, or carded, or caught! You switch it up, don't go for a few nights, then go back, or else it would look out of place!"
"Lower your voice," Jethro snapped, and Jenny widened her eyes angrily. He cut off her comment before she could say it. "It's a valid point, yeah, but we're on thin ice here; in high-risk situations—which I've dealt with before, and longer than you. Experience—"
"Does not always win out, Jethro!" Jenny cried angrily, unable to stop interrupting again. Ducky shifted and stood up hesitantly.
"Jenny, dear, Jethro, calm—"
"Is that was this is about again? Me being the inexperienced, lowly probie? Jethro, if you do things the way you always have forever you will never see if there's a better way. You can't just cast off my ideas because your ego protests; you can't ignore me because you're used to being unchallenged lawmaker, because no one else will freakin' stand up to you!"
Ducky closed his mouth, ignored by both parties.
"I do know more than you, Jenny," Jethro growled, his fist clenching on the table. "You accuse me of arrogance, me of giving too many orders and all of that crap but you don't understand that you are just as arrogant in your assumption that your ways work better than everyone else's!"
"Is it necessary to shout—" Ducky started, but was drowned out again.
"You confuse arrogance with confidence," Jenny yelled, "you're so used to Stan and Pacci and the others mutely following your orders without a suggestion or a challenge that you think my confidence in thinking I may be right is arrogance!"
She glared at him viciously, her breathing heavy. His jaw set dangerously and a vein jumped in his temple; he swallowed hard.
"You told me to trust my instincts," Jenny said, lowering her voice to a snarl, suddenly remembering their fight in Marseille. "You told me to hold my own and tell you what I think or want to do—and now you don't like it. You're gonna have to fucking deal with it Jethro."
She thought she heard Ducky suck in his breath disapprovingly at the use of harsh language and it was hysterically funny that he would, but she didn't laugh. She was too angry, and too freaked out about how fast this had gone volatile.
"Duck," Jethro said, as if wrenching his jaw open, "Give us a minute," he said through gritted teeth. It wasn't a request; it was an order.
Ducky looked half-mortified, half- wary, and looked between them both, his eyes lingering on Jenny sympathetically before he nodded and clasped his hands.
"Perhaps I'll—I'll walk off lunch while you two…sort this out," he muttered under his breath. Jenny looked away from him, setting her own jaw. She squeezed her arms tightly, knuckles turning white, and waited for Ducky to leave so Jethro could really start in on her. Ironically, she smirked, glad that he at least thought it decent to berate her and embarrass her alone—or at least finish doing so.
Ducky left quietly, and Jenny's gaze snapped forcefully back to her opponent as she heard him down the hall, finding his shoes in his room, quickly preparing to leave. Jethro didn't say a word; he just glared at her darkly, his blue eyes darkening to the angry shade of cobalt they always did when he was pissed—or, she remembered suddenly, and incredibly inappropriately, when he was aroused.
They both heard the door slam: Ducky announcing his leaving. He continued to glare and Jenny felt like screaming in frustration, having said what she needed to and just standing there waiting for him to give her more fuel to fight with. He looked like he was struggling; his muscles tense, and when he started forward Jenny stiffened considerably and stepped forward to meet him so he didn't have the advantage of having her trapped.
He trapped her anyway: grabbed her arms and pushed her roughly back against the counter, ignoring her shout of anger, his eyes going from hard to liquid-molten in seconds. He kissed her hard; bypassing etiquette and shoving his tongue practically down her throat. Her response was an angry half-moan as she curled her hands around his arms and pulled, angry and yet fascinated with him in control.
"Oh my god," she gasped when he broke away, his fingers digging into her arms tightly. Jenny brought up her arms, still in his grasp, and pushed against him, shoving herself away from the trapping kitchen counter and stumbling a little as she backed up, unsure if she was pissed or not.
She jerked her arms from his grasp roughly and ran an eager hand up his torso, wrinkling the material of his shit under her hand as she tried to feel his skin through it. She jerked the collar sharply and turned, forcing him to chase her up the stairs without even beginning to doubt that he would follow. He caught her at the top by the wrist and pulled her into his chest, stumbling again as she pulled him with her towards his bedroom and her back hit against his closed door.
"Dammit," he cursed, muttering against her lips as he tried to fumble it open without letting her go. Jenny reached behind her and slapped his hand out of the way, turning the knob easily with the flick of her wrist and almost ending up sprawled on her back when it swung open.
"You do need help with some things," Jenny smirked, only to have the door slammed and herself shoved back against it as a retort. Her knees buckled under another harsh, hot, demanding and sinful kiss and she gasped weakly even though she swore there wasn't enough air in the room to help her catch her breath.
He ran his hands over her hungrily from shoulders to thigh, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around him as he pinned her against the door. Jenny reached behind him and grappled with his shirt, bunching the material in her small hands until she had enough leeway to jerk it over his head and let her fingers slip against his skin.
She felt him tighten against her as she raked her nails up his back and pressed against him, making it frustratingly hard for him to get her blouse off. He growled in her ear and spun around, tumbling onto the bed with her instead and letting her momentary disorientation give him the edge so he could rid her of the offending shirt. He leaned down and kissed a trail up her abdomen, hand snaking around to her back for the hooks of her bra.
"Still more experienced than you," he snapped back, claiming victory in unsnapping it. His triumph was a short-lived mocking smirk wiped quickly off of his face when she unexpectedly flipped him over and settled herself over his thighs while she pulled his belt loose, her own fierce smirk an unexpectedly powerful turn-on.
Just as sure as her, he upset her weight and returned her to her back, fighting her down when she tried to retaliate and unable to stop himself grinning when a giggle escaped her.
"Why do we always have to do it your way?" she mocked, pulling him down to her while he struggled with his jeans. He smirked and pulled her shorts away.
"My way makes you scream,"
"I was already screaming, Jethro," she purred in response, alluding to the explosive way they'd ended up here. He shrugged and pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her urgently.
Jenny wrapped her hands around his biceps and moaned when he thrust into her, her entire body tense with anger and aching with lust. She pulled him as close as she could, her nerves already bound too tightly to wait long. He shook one of her hands off and ran his fingers over her leg around his waist, splaying his fingers over her thigh.
She couldn't remember if they were fighting or making love; almost too fast she was coming apart, yelling, really yelling, and only able to fleetingly hope to God Ducky had taken a long walk. Jethro's arm slipped down her leg to the bed beside her, shaking as he tried to keep up with her. His fingers curled in the sheets.
"What's taking you so long?" Jenny gasped teasingly, and that's really all it took. He groaned and his shoulders shook before he collapsed, knocking any of the breath she had left out of her when he fell. He turned his mouth into her neck and she shifted her hand up to rest at the back of his head in his sweaty hair, listening to his ragged breathing like it was a lullaby.
He rolled off of her and she winced at the unexpected pain, turning onto her stomach next to him and using his strong arm as a pillow.
"You still pissed, Jen?" he mumbled smugly after a moment, shifting towards her and pushing her thick hair off the back of her neck to kiss her. Her stomach clenched again and she moaned, hardly completely satiated considering how fast everything had just happened. His mouth slipped to her shoulders.
"I'm still pissed," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. He groaned, almost mock-exasperatedly, and shifted to his back again, grabbing her and pulling her on top of him. He stroked up her thighs until she whispered his name pleadingly again, with only the barest hint of an irritated snap present, and smirked.
"We'll do it your way, then,"
And somehow, without Jethro having to say it, she knew he wasn't talking about the sex.
