A/n: Hey guys, I finally got a new chapter up. I don't think it's my best personally, but I'm tired, and I only just finished typing it.
I hope you still like it though, and thank you for all of you reviews! I promise I'll do shout outs next chapter. I just wanted to get this up.
Monkeys :)
Jenny huffed, waking in the middle of the night to Leilah's cries. She had long since learned to identify each of her children by the noises they made. She groaned, smacking the mattress as she pushed herself up and out of bed. She snatched her robe off the nearby chair and glared at Gibbs who had simply rolled over upon feeling the weight shift of her getting up.
"Thank you for being so helpful," she hissed sarcastically, never mind the case he had just worked for forty-eight hours straight.
She sighed wearily as she made her way down the hall to the twins' room, knowing that she would now have to get both of them back to sleep. It was nothing short of a miracle that Leilah's screams had not woken the baby.
She pushed the door open, finding Leilah standing in her crib with red-rimmed, teary eyes, screaming as she tugged at her ear.
"Leilah, you have to be quiet. You woke your brother up, see?" Jenny murmured, lifting the little girl out of her crib and turned to her son who was rubbing his eyes and starting to whine.
She groaned with the weight of them both as she lifted him out of his crib as well and did her best to soothe them both. Despite her best efforts, Leilah continued to scream, tugging on her ear, and Jenny was not far from it herself while Jacob whimpered in her arms.
She laid him down with the hope that he would simply go back to sleep and it was only Leilah keeping him awake. She ran a gentle hand over his head before readjusting Leilah on her hip and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
"What's wrong, honey?" Jenny asked comfortingly, taking in the toddler's red flushed cheeks as she continued to tug on her ear and scream.
The latter was giving Jenny a headache and she exhaled heavily through her nose as she entered the kitchen in an attempt to keep herself calm.
"Leilah, mommy really needs you to be quiet, okay?" she murmured, flinging the cabinets open in search of the Children's Tylenol.
Her request fell on deaf ears and she growled, trying to set the little girl on the counter. Leilah only screamed louder and clung to her mother, taking Jenny by surprise.
"Can you tell mommy what's wrong? Can you use your words?" she asked and then scoffed at herself. "Of course you can't. You're one," she sighed.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She crawled back into bed an hour later, having finally gotten Leilah to quiet down. Not thirty seconds after her head hit the pillow, the alarm clock went off and she smacked the snooze button so hard she thought it might be broken. She hoped it was.
She laid there, clasping her hands over her forehead as Gibbs groggily slid out of bed and she soon heard the hiss of the shower. After several minutes, she forced herself to get up and trudged down the hall.
When Gibbs entered the kitchen thirty minutes later, he found her there nursing a cup of coffee. Her eyes met his gaze for only a moment before she slammed the cup into the sink a little too forcefully and brushed past him without a word. If looks could kill, he was sure he would have burst into flames.
When she re-entered the kitchen nearly forty minutes later dressed for work Gibbs was nowhere to be found, but he had left his evidence behind. His plate sat in the sink, which would have been fine if not for the traces of food still on the plate. She sighed, snatching it out of the sink and scraped his mess into the trashcan.
It was as she walked back across the room that her resolve snapped and she threw the plate into the sink, shattering it.
"Dammit, Gibbs!' she snapped and then barked his name louder. "Gibbs!"
She heard the pounding of his feet on the stairs and he soon appeared in the doorway eyeing her reproachfully.
"You yelled?" he snipped in aggravation despite the incensed look she was giving him while her fingers drummed against the sink in agitation, not to mention her use of his surname rather than his first.
"I am not your maid, Jethro," she growled. "Would it kill you to clean up after yourself once in a while, or are you just incapable of common courtesy?"
"What is your problem, Jenny?" he demanded, crossing the room.
"My problem, Jethro, is you." she snapped. "I do not want bugs in my house. Leaving food riddled plates in the sink attracts bugs. I'd rather not have our children playing with roaches, if that's alright with you."
"It's a plate," he said. "You're having some kind of mental breakdown over a plate?"
"Obviously my problem is not the plate Jethro!" she shot back sharply. "I cannot take care of three children on my own. I shouldn't have to with you in the house. I'm exhausted because you think that just because I get up at four a.m. to deal with a screaming child or God forbid children, you don't have to."
"I just worked a case with two days of no sleep while you flirted with politicians and pushed papers around. Maybe if you stopped giving me cases that last for two weeks I might be able to get some sleep and help you," he rebutted.
"Excuse me?" she scoffed. "Pushing papers? You try being Director for a week and see if it's just pushing papers!"
"I did, and it is," he replied smartly, referring to his time as acting Director some months earlier.
"Yes, and you left me with stacks of paperwork, never mind the fact that you did not have to deal with anyone even remotely like yourself. You didn't have to smooth over the social infractions of your main agent by flirting with politicians as you put it," she ground out. "I am tired too, Jethro. I am not Shannon no matter how much you may like me to be. I don't stay home and take care of the baby and clean up your mess and then run into your arms when you get home."
"I never said I expected you to, and I sure as hell never said I wanted you to be Shannon, Jenny," he bit out, his life with Shannon still a sore spot.
"But you do, Jethro," she said. "Your idea of family life is far different from what you have now. Admit it. Shannon did all of the heavy lifting while you got to go out and shoot guns."
"You're being ridiculous, Jenny. You sound like Diane," he said, making his exit, leaving her there with a look a mix of shock and disgruntlement.
Later that day, Jenny sat in her office massaging her temples. She pressed the button for her assistant and Cynthia promptly answered.
"Yes, Director?"
"Cynthia, would you tell Agent Gibbs that I want to see him please?" she asked.
"Certainly, Director," Cynthia replied and Jenny ended the call.
Jenny sighed and stood from her chair. Yanking her drawer open, she grabbed the aspirin and shook two into her palm before dry swallowing them.
When half an hour later, Gibbs was still not in her office, Jenny called her assistant once more.
"Cynthia, did you call Agent Gibbs?" she asked.
"Yes, Director, Thirty minutes ago. He said he would make it up when he could" Cynthia replied.
"Call him again, please, and tell him to make time. Now."
"Right away, Director," Cynthia assured her.
Only a minute later, she called back.
"He said the same thing, Director," she said, her voice apologetic.
She inhaled through her nose and sighed, "Thank you Cynthia."
The moment she ended her call with Cynthia, she picked the phone up again and dialed a familiar number while she fumed.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Dinozzo, what the hell are you doing?" Gibbs snapped, striding into the bullpen, finding Tony doing some kind of taunting dance at McGee.
"Nothing, boss, I was just-"
He stopped mid-sentence as Gibbs hand connected with the back of his head and winced.
"Thank you, boss."
Gibbs grabbed the phone ringing on his desk as Tony took his seat, glaring at Ziva's amused look.
"Gibbs," he answered gruffly, not expecting the response he received.
"Agent Gibbs, I highly suggest that you are in my office in the next sixty seconds, because if you are not I will personally drag your ass to hell and back," Jenny growled through the phone.
His agents watched as Gibbs hung up the phone and strode across the bullpen, taking the steps two at a time.
Cynthia looked up, watching as Gibbs strode past her desk and threw the doors to the Director's office open.
To her credit, Jenny did not even look up when her doors flew open.
Instead, she simply said calmly, "Shut the door, Agent Gibbs."
He slammed them.
"Do you have a death wish, Jethro?" she snapped.
"Just doing what you asked, Madame Director," he said spitefully.
He watched her jaw muscle jump before she spoke again, venom lacing her words.
"I'm dying of anticipation as to your reason for telling my assistant that you would do what I asked when you had the time," she said sarcastically.
"I was at Abby's," he said simply.
"For half an hour?" she demanded.
"What do you expect me to say, Jen? I'm just trying to solve your cases," he said.
"This has to stop, Jethro," she said vehemently.
"What's that?" he asked waspishly.
"I am not your junior agent anymore, Jethro. I am your boss, and you will treat me with the respect deserving of that position. Here at work, I am your boss. I am not the mother of your children or your girlfriend or ex-wife number four," she spat. "I am your boss, and what I say is not up for debate and it is not a choice that you can check yes or no for. When I say, I want to see you in my office, I expect you to be in my office."
"I'm here now," he countered. "What is it that you need, Director?"
"Is there a reason you're trying to piss me off?" she demanded. "If this is some petty plight or test to get me to do something or realize something, I'd much rather you say what you need to say."
"Not a work problem and you're such the professional," he snipped sarcastically.
"It has turned into a work problem, so we need to deal with this right now," she said.
"I'm tired of your Director act following you home," he said.
"Excuse me?" she demanded. "First of all, my job is not an act, and you have no right to talk to me about bringing work home with me. Maybe I'm too tired to play ten different roles at once, so I roll them all into one. Maybe if you actually helped me anymore I might have some energy."
"The only time I ever see you being yourself anymore is when you're pissed, so until you learn to stop acting like Diane, I'm going to try my best to piss you off," he said.
"I do not act like Diane," she insisted almost childishly.
She sighed heavily, and her exhaustion truly made itself evident before she spoke again.
"Jethro, I may seem cold and hardened, or whatever else you call my Director "persona", but that is because I'm too exhausted to be anything else. As Director, I try to leave my emotions out of things for the most part. That is what I have to do with you know so that I don't have some kind of emotional, female breakdown," she stressed. "I'm tired. I'm tired. I need a break, Jethro. I just need you to give me a break. I get that you're tired when you come home, but you need to realize that I'm tired too. This is not the eighties and I don't stay at home all day, but three days a week, when Noemi has the day off I come home and take care of that too. I'm not that woman Jethro. I'm not a full-time homemaker. I would drive myself crazy. If that's what you want, then you don't want me."
"I never asked you to do that. I know that isn't how you are, and I don't expect you to be that way," he sighed wearily.
"Then why are you so angry with me?" she demanded.
"Because you aren't acting like the woman I met; that's what I expect to be," he said.
"I'm not that woman anymore, Jethro," she said. "If that's what you want from me, then you'll be looking a long time."
"You were that woman, just more experienced, but you're letting this job suck the life out of you," he said, and she remained silent. "Jenny, if you need help at home, then tell me to help you. You used to," he reminded her.
"Fine," she said quietly, and he nodded, turning to leave.
"And I don't act like Diane," she called as he opened the door.
He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
That night, Jethro looked up as Jenny stepped out of the bathroom and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. She crossed the room in no more than a very short, very sheer, black babydoll.
She did not meet his hungry gaze. She simply sat on her side of the bed, and grabbed the bottle of lotion off the bedside table and applied it to her long legs. She smiled devishly just before his hand made contact with her skin.
"No," she said simply, shutting the cap on the lotion bottle, and slid under the covers though she made sure to arch into him.
She shut off the light, and he ignored her attempts to spurn his advances, thinking she was insincere in her actions.
She shoved him off, and again said very simply, "No."
"Jen," he growled.
"You said I acted like Diane," she said, the triumph plain in her tone.