The squad room of NCIS was dark and empty. One level above, the Director of NCIS was at her desk with a significantly smaller than it had been an hour ago stack of case reports in front of her. She casually adjusted her reading glasses and took a drink of her coffee. From the corner of the office, Special Agent Gibbs laughed at how his wife's nose scrunched up a little and how her lips curved in revulsion of the alarmingly cold vanilla latte. Jenny swallowed hard and shook her head with a frown as she tapped her nails against the white cardboard to-go cup. "That's awful," the redhead remarked.

"That's what happens when you don't drink it hot, Jen."

His wife glanced at him with a mild glare on her delicate features. "I have to say that in all our years of marriage, Jethro," she paused, removed her glasses, and placed them down on top of the open case file, "that's one of the most brilliant and fascinating observations you have ever made," Jenny professed acerbically.

Gibbs smirked at her mocking remark and shifted in his seat on the leather sofa. He was beginning to feel the pins and needles from his foot falling asleep. "You almost done?" he asked brusquely and drained the remaining drops of coffee from his own to-go cup.

"Almost," she answered, putting her sparkly crimson spectacles back on the bridge of her nose.

His chest rattled as he breathed out forcefully in displeasure and impatience. She had told him the exact same thing more than an hour ago. In a way, Jethro wanted her to sign off on all those damned case reports and call it a night. For God's sake, it was New Year's Eve. He would have slapped his signature on the numerous reports without reading them in an instant but not Jenny. She would read and weigh every word carefully, and that was one of the many, many reasons why she was in the coveted position of Director and Jethro would never be. Gibbs sighed once more and watched her work, smiling to himself. He'd missed her for the three days she had been absent, and he always liked her in that office better than he liked Assistant Director Vance. "Hey Jen," he said.

"Yes?" she acknowledged as she glided her deep black precious resin Montblanc Meisterstück LeGrand rollerball pen on the line that required her elegant cursive signature.

"Why don't you just sign all of 'em without reading 'em?" he inquired.

Jenny looked at him, meeting his azure eyes. "Jethro!" she admonished. Her voice reaching that certain annoyed pitch reserved for solely him and his infamous antics.

"I was just askin'," he muttered. "I don't know why you didn't let Leon do it."

She rolled her eyes at how he bitterly emphasized Vance's first name. "You are the only man I know that could hold a grudge over a cheese danish," she informed him. "He paid you back the lousy two dollars and forty-two cents."

"I know," Jethro remarked stubbornly. "Leon shoulda paid me back with interest," he added in a rough grumble.

"Jethro, go get me coffee before I murder you, and you don't get to see the ball drop in Times Square."

Her husband feigned insult and put his hand over his heart as if she had just ripped it out and thrown it onto the floor. Jenny sucked in her breath in an attempt not to laugh at him while she wondered what his team would think if they saw how he acted around her. He pushed himself up from the sofa and walked to stand in front of her desk. "Another one of those frilly vanilla lattes, or you gonna mix things up and go for a cappuccino?"

"It is not frilly. A vanilla latte, please," she requested and placed a signed off case folder onto the neat mountain of finished paperwork.

"It's not real coffee, Jen. Maybe you need some Jamaican blend with two or three shots of espresso. That'll get you goin'."

"Get outta here, Jethro!"

He chuckled to himself and headed to the door, stopping suddenly and turning back to gaze at her. "I'll get you a vanilla latte if you can tell me we'll be outta here before midnight," he told her brazenly, knowing it was a great risk to bargain with Jenny when it came to paperwork.

Jenny leaned back in her comfortable, leather office chair and chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She stole a glance at the clocks on the wall. "I'll be done by 2345," she replied. "Hopefully," his wife added after a moment.

"Good enough for me," Gibbs responded and glanced at his watch, breezing into the outer office.

"Vanilla latte! I don't want that swill you drink!" his wife yelled out after him.

In Jethro's absence, she read some of the agents' case reports slightly quicker than her normal circumspect pace. Jenny slowly eased out of her heeled boots and pulled off her thick argyle patterned dress socks. She let out a blissful sigh of relief as she freely stretched her legs and feet, curling her toes. Part of her hated the fact that she and Jethro hadn't made New Year's Eve plans, but the other half of her was too exhausted from jet lag and all the ass kissing she'd done at the conference to even consider going out with her husband. It didn't matter to her if she was sleeping peacefully or wide-awake when the clock ticked midnight. Jenny rubbed the back of her neck and grabbed more folders containing NCIS case reports, pulling them towards her. She stifled a yawn and leaned back in her chair, propping her feet onto the corner of her desk and reading until the words jammed into each other.

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs returned to the office and strolled to the desk. He set the coffee down in front of his wife and pleasantly smiled at the considerably smaller heap of unread and unsigned reports. Jenny picked up her cup of coffee and took a long satisfying sip of the hot latte. "You got fifteen minutes, Jen," he told her.

"I know," she answered, pulling the cup from her mouth and leaving her scarlet lipstick mark on the white lid.

Jethro regained his spot on the sofa in the corner of the spacious office and absentmindedly flipped through a magazine while she finished her work. Jenny pushed her leather chair back and stood, lifting a light load of paperwork to relocate to the conference table. Silently, her husband watched her as she stopped short of the long table. She hissed and grimaced in pain as her eyes shut. "What's the matter?" he questioned, full of concern. Her injuries sustained from the diner shootout still sometimes bothered her, and he was always worried when she seemed to be hurting.

Jenny took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "I stepped on something," she mumbled and dropped the papers onto the table with a thud. The redhead lifted her foot and attempted to examine it. "A splinter?" she thought aloud as her green eyes narrowed in on the arch of her right foot.

Gibbs took her hand and led her over to the sofa. He sat her down and knelt. "Lemme see," he instructed. Jenny sighed and lifted her leg, placing her injured barefoot onto her husband's thigh. He peered at the splinter and chuckled. "It's a toothpick, Jen."

"A what?"

"A toothpick," Jethro repeated slowly. He was trying his best not to burst into laughter at how she had managed to find the one toothpick left by Leon Vance stuck in the carpet of her office. It was like finding a needle in a haystack.

She twisted her face in disgust. Vance's toothpick that had been in his mouth and chewed on like a bone was stuck in her foot. "Get it out!" she demanded hurriedly in a childlike manner. "Get it out, Jethro! Now! It was in his mouth!"

He laughed heartily and groaned when she kicked him in the stomach. "Okay, Jen. I'll get it out," he stated calmly and worked on removing the diminutive sharpened piece of wood out from under her skin. Her face contorted in pain as Jethro pulled the damned toothpick from her foot, but her eyes widened in fear when her husband frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked dreadfully.

"It's stuck in there. You broke it off when you kicked me," he explained. "I'll have to use my knife."

Jenny put her hand to her forehead and grumbled under her breath. She was unable to fully comprehend her bad luck, and she jumped slightly at the sound of the pocketknife blade locking into place. Gibbs snapped his fingers and looked her straight in the eyes. "Move closer to the lamp," he ordered softly and waited for her to change position.

"Make it quick," Jenny told him and closed her eyes as Jethro gently and carefully cut into her wounded foot. After what seemed like an eternity, Gibbs triumphantly held up the remnants of Vance's wayward toothpick. "Thank God," she breathed out and pulled her foot closer to her so that could assess the damage. "Not bad," Jenny complimented her husband's handiwork.

Jethro smirked and put away his pocketknife. "Well yeah, Jen. I'm good with my hands," he remarked with a glint in his eye and leaned forward, fervently covering her mouth with his as his calloused hands roamed underneath the skirt of her fit and flare sweater dress.

"Jethro, we're in the office," she said, weakly pushing at his hands.

"We haven't fooled around up here in the New Year, Jen," he countered with a grin.

"It's not the New Year yet," his wife retorted.

Smugly, Gibbs pulled back from her and tapped his finger on his watch. "12:01," he informed and broadly grinned. "Happy New Year, Jenny."

She smirked at him and gripped the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging him closer to her. "Aren't you sly….giving me a New Year's kiss without me knowing?"

Jethro beamed at her with pride and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm tryin' to give you a New Year's lay too," he whispered, brushing his lips along the curve of her throat.

Jenny moaned softly at the feeling of his lips and grasped his shoulders. She wanted to be at home in their bed, but she wouldn't stop him from wanting after hours play in the office. He pushed her dress up around her hips and kissed her passionately. Her hands fumbled with his belt and the zipper of his jeans.

It was a very good start to the brand new year.