GIBBS
Gibbs discarded the smart jacket the second he walked through the door. Minutes later he was in sweats and an ancient, worn NIS t shirt, his tread heavy as he made his way to his basement and his boat.
Professionally, it had been a good evening. They'd been accepted into the elite without any significant problems, helped along by introductions from SecNav and his cronies. The cover ID they'd set up in New York had been pinged several times, and Abby reported it was still secure, so anyone who'd been suspicious enough to check it out had gone away satisfied. They'd established a beachhead, and the plan could move forward. He thoroughly deserved the mug of bourbon he'd just poured for himself.
Personally, however, Gibbs was wondering if he'd last too many more evenings like that. For a year, maybe longer, he'd been able to pretend to himself that any residual attraction between them was safely covered up, submerged below layers of gentle teasing, mutual trust, and a bedrock certainty that romance would compromise their professional relationship. He'd put that initial flash of desire down to andrenaline and an attractive woman, and consciously labelled anything else between them as friendship and respect. A good relationship, even a close one, but nothing romantic.
His certainty had served him well until tonight. Kate looking like a goddess... that had been a punch to the gut. The flare of jealousy seeing her dancing with another man. The look on her face... the feel of her in his arms...
He took a too-large sip of the bourbon, and winced as the burn hit his throat. The waltz had been fun, if uncomfortably romantic, and he'd more or less managed to keep it light, teasing her, making her laugh. He was aware they would have seemed the image of a happy couple to anyone watching.
Then the orchestra had segued into a slow, lingering ballad, and without even thinking about it he had drawn her closer. He'd realised his mistake instantly, but there was no way he could push her away and leave her standing alone on the dance floor. It wouldn't help their cover any, and even if it didn't jeopardise the op, when Kate slipped her arms around his neck, there was no way in the world he could have resisted.
He'd lost track of time with her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek resting against her hair. He could smell the perfume Abby had spritzed over her, and an underlying scent which was uniquely Kate. He'd exercised all his self control not to cross any lines - not to run his hands up her ribcage, not to caress the skin of her neck, not to gently explore the curve of her hips... He took a ragged breath at the memory.
Eventually, after somewhere between ten minutes and ten hours drifting in a little slice of heaven, they had drifted to the side of the room, and he had leaned over to kiss her. The part of his brain that was still trying to save his sanity aimed his mouth at the corner of her lips, and though he lingered longer than was probably wise, he managed to summon the willpower not to cup her cheek with his palm and tilt her head for a real kiss. That had been quite an achievement, all told. Especially when he drew back and saw the emotion simmering in her eyes.
They had survived the rest of the evening and driven home in silence, but their hands had crept together, and when he closed his eyes he could still remember the feeling of her fingers entwined in his.
Sighing, he grabbed some new sandpaper and a sanding block, and slid gingerly under the boat frame. He seemed to spend his entire life sanding, but with a bit of luck, he'd fall asleep down here. His boat was one thing he could always rely on.
And at any rate, sanding seemed a safer option for tonight than anything involving sharp edges.
