A/N: All right. Here we go. I've been working on this fic off and on for a long time now. I told myself I'd never publish any of it until it was all finished, but it turns out I can't wait any longer. The overall rating of this story is T, but at least two (maybe more) chapters will be rated M due to sexual adult content. This is a very typical Jibbs fic, with all of the typical tropes and storylines. I just wanted to write my own version. This starts off right at the end of the first episode of Season 4, "Shalom". There are several parts where I use the dialogue from the show, since I'm trying to weave this with canon. Those parts obviously do not belong to me.
This goes out to JamJar98, forcverandalways, and Thas Costa (who has been patiently waiting for me to write a Jibbs long fic ever since I published my first story a few years ago). This also goes out to all my fellow Jibbs lovers, writers and readers, who have kept Jibbs alive all of these years. It's been a blast. (JamJar98 gets an extra special shout-out though, because she has had to put up with me talking about this fic for an eternity now.)
*This first chapter contains M rated sexual material.
"Speaking of which…" Jenny questioned, looking over to Tony, wondering where Jethro was.
"He's in the squad room," Tony supplied.
Jenny turned around, not helping the smile that came to her face. It had been fun having him back, she had missed him. She'd spent months worrying about him, not able to get him out of her head. She had hated him for leaving, hated him for being stubborn. She had felt her heart tug every time she looked down in the bullpen and didn't see his silver head—something that had been a staple in this building since her probie days.
He had abandoned his team, and she couldn't shake off the irrational thought that he had abandoned her—even though he didn't owe her anything and she wasn't any more to him than anyone else these days.
She had spent all that time in the hospital with him before he left, realizing that she still cared for him, deeply. She couldn't imagine a world without him in it. She had never stopped feeling guilty about the way she left him. She wanted to make amends, bury the hatchet.
But then he left. It had given her just a hint of how he must have felt seven years ago, and it had given her a taste of what it was like to exist in a world without him.
Considering the devastating information she had found out about his family, she couldn't entirely blame him. Yet, she still blamed him. In total truth, she blamed herself.
She led the way out of her office and down the stairs, feeling a bounce in her step, with Ziva and Tony close behind her. She thought about the crack he had made when he first saw her again the other day, about 'missing the view'. She smirked.
That flirty crack had been enough to dissipate her anger towards him, and instead feel total relief—not to mention, flattered. He did have a fantastic charm underneath that gruff attitude. She hadn't realized just how much she had actually missed him barging in her office all the time. Then he'd actually smiled and laughed, and she'd wanted to comment on just how much she had missed that view.
Jenny reached the bottom of the steps, turning to the bullpen, feeling her excitement fade quickly. She didn't see hide nor hair of Jethro anywhere.
"Where is he, McGee?" she questioned, turning to the agent at his desk. "Abby's lab?"
"Gibbs left, ma'am," he responded, looking a little uncomfortable.
She was taken aback, feeling her stomach drop—and then she realized she shouldn't be surprised. She knew him. She should have known better than to think he would still be sticking around in the office when he didn't have a place in it anymore.
"Said he had a plane to catch," McGee finished.
"You sure about that, McGee?" Tony asked, sounding hurt. She gave the agent a sympathetic look.
"Yeah, Tony, I'm sure."
"No, 'cause he didn't even say goodbye to me."
"Director, uh, he wanted me to give this to you," McGee said, handing her a white envelope.
She took it and opened it up quickly, pulling a photo out. Her eyes landed on the picture and she felt her breath catch.
"Ah, nice snap," Tony said as he leaned in close over her shoulder. "Where was that taken?"
"Serbia," she responded, doing her best to keep her voice level.
So, he hadn't forgotten after all. Asshole.
She took in how young she looked. How happy she was. The sappy smile on her face, and the blush in her cheeks that was apparent simply because Jethro was the one taking the picture. Her darker undercover hair, her sweater that kept her from freezing, the little farmhouse behind her. All of it brought a wave of memories.
"When?" Ziva asked.
"A lifetime ago, Ziva," she said, pulling her eyes away from the picture for a second to give Ziva a smile.
His denial in her office the other day had thrown her for a loop, and she had wondered how much of anything he even remembered. She knew from that one hospital visit after he'd first woken up that he did at least remember making love to her.
She couldn't believe he still had this picture, and wondered if he had anymore from their Europe days. She almost couldn't believe he'd actually taken the time to go to his house and get the picture for her before he left. It was so…so sweet. Meaningful.
She tucked the photo back in the envelope, ignoring the stares and knowing looks the team was giving her. She felt elated by his gesture, but she also felt like she'd been kicked by a brutal wave of nostalgia and regret.
And then she realized once again, she knew him. She was almost positive he wasn't actually gone yet. She could feel it in her gut, and she knew she couldn't let him take off without at least talking to him first.
"I need to get back upstairs and finalize some paperwork. Ziva, I'm glad you're safe. Great work, team."
She gave them all a smile and walked up the stairs, holding the envelope protectively in her hand. The minute she got into her office she pulled up the list of flights heading out of Washington today and quickly scanned through to see if any were headed to Mexico. There was one flight that hadn't taken off today, and it wasn't scheduled to leave for another four hours.
"Bingo," she muttered to herself, smiling.
She had left the office not ten minutes after pulling up the flight schedules, letting Cynthia know something had come up. Now she was at his door, debating if she really wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared. Then the memory of him in that coma hit her again, and she stepped forward and made her decision. She didn't bother knocking, knowing there was no point.
She almost jumped when she stepped through the door. She had expected him to be downstairs in the basement—not right in front of her, standing on the bottom of the stairs.
"Jen?"
"Jethro," she breathed out.
Her eyes landed on that longer hair of his that she liked. On that beard. On the chest hair that the ridiculous shirt managed to show off. He just looked so rugged and manly. Every time she had seen him the past couple of days she couldn't get her mind off that steamy week in Serbia.
She realized she was staring far longer than she should, and he looked both baffled and annoyed. He had a suitcase in one hand and his backpack on his back. He raised an eyebrow at her and then walked down the last step he was on, putting the suitcase down on the floor beside him.
"Why ya here?"
She felt like a deer in the headlights all of a sudden. Why was she here?
"I wanted to thank you, for the picture."
He continued to stare at her.
"Ya left work and came out here…to thank me?"
"You said you didn't remember," she commented, ignoring his question.
"What?"
"Serbia."
He closed his mouth and shrugged, looking away and avoiding her gaze.
"That's good," she said, her lip quirking up. "It was one hell of a week."
He met her gaze, and she could tell he must remember some of the same things she did. It really had been a week filled with so much sex. So much good, distracting, sweaty, hot sex. There had been nothing else to do. There were no other distractions, no missions. They could immerse themselves and take their time, be as loud as they wanted. They were the only ones holed up in that farmhouse together. No Ducky, no Decker, no one else around for miles. Hell, they'd even talked that week, actually talked. It had been a fulfilling, peaceful, and eye-opening time, despite the boredom that came with having almost nothing to do. Things had quickly gone downhill after that though, when the mission went full throttle in Russia.
"So, do you remember everything?" she asked.
"Had a lotta time to remember in Mexico," he answered vaguely.
She smiled at him, feeling relieved. She was glad the memories weren't just one-sided. He squinted at her.
"Why ya here?" he questioned again.
"Because I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye this time," she said quietly.
She walked forward, trying to brush off the nervousness she felt. She stepped right up to him, looking up at him. He didn't step away. She steeled herself and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her.
It felt awkward for a couple of seconds, especially with the way his body had tensed uncertainly at first, but then she felt him relax and place his arms around her too. She closed her eyes.
It had been so long since she'd hugged him. So long since she had touched him and felt him against her. So long since she could bury her face into his neck or shoulder and breathe him in. She realized the hug was going longer than necessary, but she couldn't bring herself to let him go.
"I missed you," she admitted in a whisper.
She felt his arms tighten around her, felt his head get closer to hers, his nose pressing into the side of her head, listened to him take a deep breath in. She enjoyed the moment and then moved her head to look up at him, not letting go, moving one of her hands up to his neck.
This was the line. This was where she could back off and keep some sort of boundary.
But at this second she didn't want to. She wanted to live in the past. She wanted to see if that spark really did still exist or if it was all in her head.
He wasn't backing away. He wasn't pushing her away or saying no. His eyes had that curious hunger in them that she recognized, and she felt one of his hands move lower, the tips of his fingers pressing against her lower back and keeping her close. She knew he must be thinking along the same lines as her.
She pressed her fingers into his neck just a little more and pushed her head towards his. She got her lips right next to his and he still didn't protest or make any move to pull away.
"Jethro," she breathed out.
He pressed his lips to hers hungrily and she responded immediately. They each tightened their hold on each other, his hand on her back moving to her hip while his other hand tangled itself in her short hair.
She let out a groan of relief. Kissing him was just as good as she remembered.
She was glad that the boundary had finally been crossed. She had no intentions of backing away now, and she decided to get a move on before her sanity kicked in and stopped her.
She moved her hand to unbutton the first three buttons on his shirt, sliding her hand across the hairy expanse of skin she revealed, feeling his tongue slide into her mouth. The feel of his facial hair scratching against her face while he kissed her was more than a turn on.
His hand on her hip moved up to the button on her pants, undoing it easily and pulling down the zipper in a flash. Clearly he wanted to get a move on and quit thinking just as much as she did. He tugged them down her hips and she broke apart from him a little to help kick them off. As soon as she was rid of them he moved towards her, pressing her up against the wall as their lips met again. His hand snaked between the wall and grabbed her butt, squeezing and pulling her hips closer to him. She could feel his growing erection through his jeans, and both of them let out a moan as he ground against her.
She sucked in a breath when she felt his hand brush against her inner thighs, skating up. His fingers brushed aside the edge of her panties, pushing them aside as he sought out her clit.
"Jethro," she whimpered, gripping onto him.
She hadn't come here with the intention of this, nor had she expected them to move quite this fast when she kissed him. Though she shouldn't be surprised, because this was pretty much exactly how it had gone on that hot day in the attic in Marseille. It had also been so long since she'd had sex, and so much longer since she'd felt his fingers down there. What a damn relief.
She looked into his face for a few seconds while he stroked her before she had to close her eyes, letting out a moan as his fingers continued their ministrations. He moved his lips down to her neck, his free hand moving up to her chest, squeezing one of her breasts through her clothing. She felt him grinding himself against her thigh.
She pulled his fingers away from herself and reached for his belt, pulling it off and tossing it before she undid his button and zipper. His lips sought out hers again, his breath hot against hers, letting out a groan when she reached into his boxer briefs and found him with her fingers, stroking his length.
She stopped to try and get some more of his clothing off, but he beat her to it and tugged at her blazer. She shrugged out of it and then he pulled her sweater vest over her head.
"Got too many layers," he growled, starting on the buttons of her white dress shirt.
"That's the pot calling the kettle black," she remarked, thinking about his usual outfit that consisted of a white t-shirt, a polo, and a sport jacket over that.
"Least I usually got less buttons," he returned, struggling with the buttons on hers, nearly ripping one off. They were so small for his large hands.
"Here, I'll do mine, you do yours," she said, taking over with hers while he undid the rest of the buttons on his.
They both pulled their shirts off and threw them to the floor, and she took the opportunity to kick off her heels and undo her bra, letting it fall to the ground while he kicked his jeans off. He tossed his necklace and watch on his pile of clothes.
She eyed his body while he eyed hers, both of them only in their underwear. She drank in his broad shoulders, the hair covering him, the tan he'd picked up in Mexico, and the way he just looked filled out and fit and manly. She pulled him back to her and kissed him again, enjoying the way his bare skin felt against hers.
It had been so long.
He pushed them into the living room, and they narrowly avoided the coffee table as he guided her to the couch. When the back of her legs hit against the fabric, she broke apart so she could get down and lay on it, thankful that he had a blanket laying on the couch so it wasn't uncomfortable. She spread her legs, making room for him while he situated himself above her, pressing her into the couch as he assaulted her lips with his again. He thrust against her with a grunt and pulled his head up, making eye contact with her. He caressed her cheek with his hand, his thumb pulling down her bottom lip.
The way he was admiring her made her heart skip a beat. He seemed to be waiting to see if she'd say anything, and she merely pressured her hands against him in response to try and get him to continue.
He pressed another soft kiss to her lips and then made his way down her chin and neck, one of his hands skating across her breasts, squeezing them and rubbing his thumb against one of her hardened nipples. His lips reached the valley between her breasts and then he turned the attention of his mouth onto her breasts as well.
He sat up on his knees and pulled her panties down, tossing them unceremoniously off the side of the couch. She pulled him back down to her and reached down, tugging on the edge of his boxer briefs, and he pulled them down. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close. They both were struggling for breath as he thrust against her again. She felt him reach down and position himself, and in an instant he pushed himself into her.
She moaned his name, gripping onto him. It had definitely been a while. He made to thrust further in, but she tensed, holding onto him to keep him still a bit longer. She needed to adjust. He took a breath, his hand skating through her hair as he pressed some lingering kisses on her neck. She relaxed after a couple minutes, urging him with her legs and he pulled back and thrust again, groaning in relief as he sunk deeper into her.
She'd forgotten just how good this actually was. She thought she remembered, but clearly she hadn't.
The slow thrusts eventually turned into a steady pace, his hips moving against hers with more confidence as they both clung to the other. The heat, friction, and movement causing their bodies to become slick against the other. She kissed him, relishing the way his body felt as it moved against hers.
He picked up the pace and moved a hand down to her clit to help her along, his breathing labored as he struggled on the edge. She was writhing beneath him, her legs shaking around him. They were both so close, pants and moans adding to the sinful sound of his hips slapping against hers.
She moved his fingers, helping him to get the spot she needed—he slammed into her hard, his finger hitting her just right, and she let out a scream of pleasure into his neck as she held tight onto him, her orgasm crashing over her. She could feel herself tighten and pulse around him, feel him let go of all of his control as he thrust over and over again into her. She heard him shout her name as he came, his hips jerking to a slow stop as his cock emptied deep inside her. She enjoyed the satisfied groan he let out as their orgasms ebbed away.
They were both struggling for breath, both just holding onto each other as the pleasure died and their minds slowly returned to reality.
She felt so sated, so unbelievably relaxed and at peace. It felt so good to have him on and inside her again. It felt so good to finally relieve the tension that had been building for the past year ever since they started working together again.
She didn't think when she left the office that they'd end up having sex again. Hell, she didn't think that would happen ever again. She had planned to talk to him and send him off with a hug to try and ease the wounds between them and leave him with good feelings towards her. Perhaps try and persuade him to think about staying, and let him know he was welcome back if he ever wanted to come back.
And now she was now tangled up on his couch with him, covered in sweat, not regretting the decision one bit while she was still feeling the leftover ecstasy. She knew when the high wore off she'd be questioning her sanity.
She loosened her grip on him and relaxed more, giving him a languid kiss. He pulled out of her and lifted himself up, and she felt herself shiver from the lack of his shared warmth. He reached behind the couch and pulled out another blanket. She was even more glad he already had the one on here, because she could definitely feel on her upper thighs that his couch would have required some cleaning had he not. Thank goodness he always had blankets around the couch since he slept on it.
He moved so that he was behind her on the couch, spooning her, and then he shook the blanket open and tossed it over them. She helped him adjust it so that it actually covered them, and then they both got comfortable against each other. She smiled at the arm he wrapped around her, putting her hand over it.
Within a few minutes, the way his body relaxed and the way his breathing evened out alerted her that he had fallen dead asleep. She couldn't blame him, she was pretty sure he hadn't slept at all the past two nights, due to his overnight flight and then the night he spent working with Tony to try and solve the case for Ziva.
She grudgingly pried herself away from him, knowing a bathroom trip to clean up the mess was in order. When she made it back into the living room she debated leaving. He was leaving on a flight in a couple hours, and she didn't want to say goodbye. Not to mention, she didn't know how awkward everything would be. She looked at his peaceful body and decided not to overthink things. She was naked and cold, and snuggling against him and taking a nap was decidedly easier than having to get dressed and drive back home.
She gently lifted his arm and tried to carefully maneuver herself back on the couch against him. He mumbled something incoherent and kissed her neck, wrapping his arm back around her and pulling her close.
She closed her eyes with a smile, enjoying the closeness as she let sleep overtake her too.
Jenny opened her eyes, blinking several times, feeling slightly confused as to where she was. She felt a body jostling behind her and it hit her where she was and who was with her. She stretched out a little and yawned, realizing she would probably need to move in order to let him escape. She could tell despite him trying to move carefully, he was pretty trapped in between the couch and her.
She moved the blanket off of her and pulled herself into a sitting position, stretching a little more before she actually stood up. She turned her head and looked down at him, watching him sit up and rub his face, looking exhausted. His hair was sticking up all over in the back.
"Gotta get goin', gonna miss my flight," he said groggily, looking up at the clock in his living room.
She nodded, trying to make the sudden sick feeling in her stomach go away. She knew he was leaving. She knew he insisted that he "wasn't back". Still, she hated to see him leave, especially now that they'd so stupidly obliterated that professional boundary again. Try as she had her whole life, sex never came without emotional attachment of some sort. Jethro had always been the one she couldn't shake off.
They both stood up, gathering their clothes that were scattered around, putting them back on. They each couldn't help but glance at the other as they got dressed. She knew they were both trying to read each other, both trying to decipher where to tread from here. When they were both completely dressed, they just stood there, awkwardly staring at each other for a second.
"I'll help you get your bags in your truck," she said.
"Only got the two," he said, shrugging.
"You've always been frugal. Efficient."
He gave a nod. She looked past him to where his bags were, not liking that he had a suitcase too. She was sure he only came down with his backpack, because that was his M.O.—so the fact that he was taking even more things from here to take back to Mexico…it meant he really was serious about leaving for good.
The silence ensued again, and she almost couldn't handle it. She decided she may as well be the one to tackle the real topic, especially since she'd been the one who had shown up announced and practically threw herself at him.
"What was it you said the other day? Just 'two old partners catching up'?"
His lip quirked up slightly, seeming to catch on as he nodded again.
She shrugged and folded her arms, waiting for him to say anything, anything at all to tell her where his head was at.
"Plausible deniability," he said softly, echoing what she had said the other day as well.
"Something like that," she echoed back.
They both chuckled before they looked back at the other one. She walked forward to him and placed her hand on his chest.
"It was fun catching up," she said with a smirk, watching the way his eyes darkened and glanced to her lips. "We'll miss you, again. Enjoy Mexico." She made to turn around and walk away but his hand gripped her wrist and pulled her back.
He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she thought he was about to kiss her, but he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek instead, his facial hair tickling her.
"Thank you," he whispered, his mouth lingering by her ear.
She gave him a smile in return, letting herself enjoy the care he showed in those soft blue eyes of his. She could still feel the tickle from his facial hair as she pulled back.
"Your beard, you should keep it. Suits you," she commented. He touched the scruff for a second, looking almost embarrassed. She gave herself a once over, making sure she was fully and properly dressed, before she turned around and walked out. The door felt heavy as she closed it behind her, and she took a breath of the evening air as she tried not to let her thoughts get complicated.
At least they had actually said goodbye—for a change.
"Just two old partners catching up. Nothing more," she stated purposely to herself, repeating it in her head over and over again as she walked to her car.
If only her emotions would adhere to the words.