Rule Eight: Never take anything for granted.

Shutting the door behind them, Tim quickly moved into Jethro's open arms and kissed him for all he was worth.

It had been too long of a day. Jethro had slipped out of bed at the crack of dawn to deal with some mess that another team needed help with. He hadn't even had time to kiss his mate good morning, not that he'd woken Tim up. Too hectic of a week and Tim needed his sleep.

Once Tim was up, and Jethro already at work, things just seemed to pile up. Paperwork for closing a case. Debriefings. Miscellaneous lose ends to tie up.

And a shooting report.

That had frightened him. It always did. Every time his mate was in harm's way, and worse because he wasn't there to watch Jethro's six, his heart would get stuck in his throat. Tim would curse Jethro for ordering him to desk work, but the worry that something would happen...

So, after every case, Tim quietly drove them home and threw himself at his mate, drinking him in and being thankful for another day. Jethro would give him a quiet laugh and ask what was up with Tim.

Tim would kiss Jethro hard, surround himself with his mate and answer, "Rule Eight."


End.