Hello again, hello again :) Not much of an A/N, other than 1) I hope you enjoy what follows; 2) there may or may not be a piece to follow...; and.. 3) I don't own squat :D (although I sure wish I did..) Oh well.. have a lovely day everyone and enjoy :)
The incessant aroma of stale beer, hard liquor, and musky perfume drifted and hovered in a dimly lit haze. It hung in the air, as thick and as heavy as the smoke that crept into the bar from the smoldering cigarettes that idly corralled outside the front door. Atmosphere was never really his thing, but he managed. He came around every once in awhile, after a long day or when he just found himself in need of a slow drink— one in a crisp, spotless glass with Scotch that wasn't poured from a single malt bottle sheltered beneath a workbench, hidden in a desolate basement. One that he could mechanically sit in front of, wrap his hands around, and let condensation subjectively slide over his fingers and pool around the glass, while he stared into caramel-colored, ice cube prisms.
Atmosphere wasn't necessarily a deal breaker, unless perhaps when it made you uncomfortable. But he always felt that a person needed a certain amount of discomfort— to make him aware, to make him stable. But presently, he wasn't appreciative of the discomfort that may have bombarded him, as he was too attentive towards the task at hand: Gibbs raised his glass and took a long, slow swallow.
He wasn't typically a bar-watcher either, as he quite typically just watched his drink. Occasionally he would peer at his reflection in the dusty mirror that covered the back wall of the bar, or steal glances at the predictable bar flies that flanked either side of his barstool. Tonight though, he sat at the end of the bar with his back to the front door, giving him a perfect view of the entire establishment... whether he liked it or not. With no mirror to childishly occupy him, no wall to stare at, he couldn't help but periodically observe the patrons.
He made a gradual appraisal of the scene that faced him, and as he was about to look away, down to the fading pick-me-up held loosely in his hand: there she was... demurely seated in the center of the chaos. Kate sat at one of the small tables along the far wall, taking a lengthy drink from her tall glass. Gibbs unconsciously did the same as he thoroughly studied her from his safe place across the bar.
She had her hair down, gently falling over her shoulders in relaxed, casual waves that loosely framed her softly flushed face. From what he could see, she wore a simple crimson dress, strapless and flattering. His mind wandered, and he imagined that there really wasn't much that wouldn't be flattering on Caitlin Todd. She looked alone at the moment, but her table was haphazardly covered with half-eaten plates of food and several empty beer bottles. She sat quietly, with her head bowed, tracing lazy circles around the rim of her glass with the tip of a finely manicured index finger. He watched her shoulders heave with a faint sigh as she casually pushed her hair over one shoulder, turning her head to look towards the back of the bar. Gibbs suddenly felt a tiny pang, to think that his team didn't offer him an invitation. Despite turning down each previous request from Kate and Abby, he still enjoyed the proposition. Especially when it came from Kate. He began looking around aimlessly for signs of Tony or Abby, when he saw it.
He sat and watched helplessly as a tall, blonde, slightly tanned 30-something smoothly sidled up to Kate's table, slipping into the chair next to hers. The lawyer, he grumbled to himself. She smiled shyly, the corner of her mouth curling upward just enough to be perceptible, before looking back down to her drink. He noted that she was either unusually nervous or in a half-hearted situation, then found it mildly amusing that one expression could hold completely opposite connotations for the poor bastard. Gibbs lowered his head and raised his glass, his mouth and his hand meeting half-way. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell she was doing with such a suit; always imagining Kate should be with someone more… What, more like you? His mind cruelly teased him. Soon his reproachful self-pity turned into uncomfortable self-consciousness and stabs of annoyance. Jealousy, his conscience corrected him. He essentially knew that he had no valid right to be annoyed or jealous, no right to be resentfully desirous of someone he had no tangible claim to... but he had always imagined.
His focus slowly returned to Kate and the body sitting close beside her, the arm snaking around her shoulders and the hand that dangled low, dangerously hovering over her chest. She seemed almost uncomfortable with the arrangement as she chuckled briefly and swatted at her date's hand. He removed his arm, but snuck in for a kiss, pressing his lips against the side of her neck.
Gibbs' jaw tightened, his jealous heart growing furious and finally getting the better of him as he tossed down a few bills to cover his small drink tab. His hand clenched and unclenched around the collar of his jacket after grabbing it from the back of his chair. What the woman did to him, and she didn't even know… didn't even have a clue. Soon in the emotional safety of the chilly summer night, he walked alone, the wind rushed his back and whipped at the lifeless jacket he held tightly in his fingers. Running a hand through his already mussed hair, he mindlessly looked up and down the street, despite knowing exactly where his car was parked a block away.
He stood there for a minute before stepping off the edge of the curb to cross the street. He stood there and exhaled the long breath he had been tightly holding and keeping to himself; the heavy sigh that he felt Kate would have intuitively heard.
All of a sudden her voice drifted melodically down the broken sidewalk, reaching and teasing Gibbs' ear, making him stop. He turned and watched her from the shadows, not so much out of scrutinizing jealousy, but of his own private concern and curiosity. He watched her pat and gently stroke the man's arm, leaning up to place a small, chaste kiss on his cheek before returning her heels to the ground. She stayed in her own personal space. While Gibbs could hear her speaking, he couldn't quite make out the words. He kept telling himself to move along, get the hell out of sight while he had the chance to walk away unnoticed. But he stayed.
Whatever it was that Kate happened to be imparting unto her date, he did't seem to be taking it very well. Gibbs' brow furrowed as he crossed his arms and struggled to hear the conversation. An elderly couple neared him as he spied, and the woman shook her head disapprovingly as they continued to walk; Gibbs stopped squinting at the fighting Kate and John (his name being the only thing he managed to catch), looked to the couple and cleared his throat. As they walked past, Gibbs pretended to search his pockets for nonexistent keys to the car that wasn't his, parked directly in front of him off the sidewalk.
He casually looked back over his shoulder to see John grasp her elbow, and Kate pull away sharply. Kate shook her head vehemently and put her hand up, reinforcing the distance she began to set between them. A dull droning filled Gibbs' ears as he watched their silent speech, being drawn into the scene that played out before him. He began to slowly walk closer to where Kate stood, her arms defensively crossed in front of her chest, intensely arguing with her date. Gibbs stood a mere five feet away now, behind John and directly in her field of vision. As Kate's argumentative gestures happened to send her gaze over John's shoulder, she caught Gibbs' eyes and stopped. Their stare locked as her eyebrows rose in silent confusion, her breath stopped, and she stood there, momentarily struck for words. Becoming distracted from her current circumstance, she opened her mouth to speak, but the hazy dream-like sequence was shattered as the back of John's hand angrily made contact with her cheek. Taken by surprise, Kate reeled backwards a few steps, stumbling in her heels before she could register exactly why her cheek stung so violently, bringing quiet tears to her eyes. The muffled buzzing Gibbs heard before did not die away as instinct kicked in. He stiffly grabbed the guy by his shirt collar and, whirling him around, practically lifted him off the ground in a single, fluid motion.
Gibbs held no uncertainty that she could have handled this situation; that she could have easily taken him out; put him out of commission in a sheer nanosecond once she had gained her bearings. But there was something about seeing it unfold, actually witnessing the biting altercation that made Gibbs feel the need to act. The absolute need to beat this person, who dared to raise an angry hand to his Caitlin Todd, to a bloody pulp. He heard himself yelling something at the guy, he felt him struggle in his hands, he heard the commotion slowly coming back, but he fully snapped back to the present when he felt Kate's gentle hands on his arm. He noticed her look of pleading desperation, fear coating and cracking her voice as he heard her raspy whisper: "Gibbs…Please." Gibbs blinked and hesitantly released her date, who clearly had a spot too much to drink as he nearly staggered to the ground, completely disoriented. John fiercely cursed at them both as he scrambled to his feet, striding unevenly down the street to his car. Kate and Gibbs stood alone on the sidewalk, respectively stunned and silent. He watched the other man walk off until he was no longer in sight, before steadily turning his gaze to Kate. She was staring at him openly, not knowing whether to be grateful, angry, or scared with the man that stood beside her; his protective stance not going unnoticed. Her mouth moved to form words, but not a single syllable would come; so she stopped, and continued to silently gape at him. He cast his eyes down to the cracked cement beneath his feet, shoving his hands into the depths of his pockets, and patiently awaited whatever emotion was about to overflow.
Kate looked around them, searching expectedly for the words that she couldn't immediately find inside of herself. She held one hand defensively on her hip, while her other rubbed her forehead in frustration before pushing stray strands of hair from her face. Looking down at the ground, she fervently shook her head.
"Gibbs.. I… I could've handled it… I could have taken care of… this! I-I could have—" she stopped herself and paused; breathing heavily, she exhaled deeply for some small stitch of composure. A sudden, sinking feeling of slight paranoia crept into her stomach. She felt smaller in front of him now, and she didn't at all enjoy the thought of him seeing her as less than she was: less than the strong woman she wanted him to think of when he looked at her. When he watched her in that unique way she would fleetingly catch, whenever she caught his stare. She didn't mean to, and she cursed at herself silently when she heard it escape.. but she sniffled in spite of herself. She could only imagine how it sounded to him; probably more like a small sob than a brief sniff of poise. But she tried desperately to shelve the embarrassment that was steadily rising in the back of her throat as she closed her eyes. His heart twisted and constricted intensely at the sound of the choked sniffle that caught in her throat, but he still refused to look at her.
The delicate, angry undercurrents that had clouded their communication slowly ebbed and faded with the sudden silence as Kate stood at arm's distance, reaching out her fingers to barely brush against his forearm.
"Gibbs." Kate spoke softer than before, but with a warm push that made him believe that maybe her rant had ended-- Impossible, he thought. His eyes gradually wandered up to her face. He felt guilty, and probably looked it too, as he felt the flush of his skin slowly creep up the back of his neck— but he wouldn't apologize for his strange and inherent need to guard her from her own bad choices in men.
Kate folded her arms in front of her, hugging herself in face of the subtle chill that would periodically gust against them. "What are you doing here, Gibbs…" her voice was soft, almost sympathetic, but still subconsciously laced with an agitated curiosity. She took a step closer to him, her head tilted to one side, her brow creased with blatant confusion as she patiently stood in front of him. Her sudden calmness unnerved him. Where was the yelling, the scolding, the harsh criticism for prying into her personal life…
"Gibbs..." Kate softly exclaimed in quiet frustration, her eyes searching his face for some physical sign of communication that she may have missed. Not picking up anything but his silent emptiness, she sighed, her arms heaving slightly against her chest as she shook her head and looked to her newly scuffed shoes. "Well.. now that you've scared away my ride and refuse to speak to—"
"You were going to get into a car with that creep..?" he erupted. Gibbs' face swiftly contorted into an expression of pained disbelief and anger; his eyes widened with his eyebrows pushing together, creased in stressed exasperation. Her eyes quietly flashed at him while his outburst subsided; the corner of her mouth twitched, but she couldn't quite bring herself to smile.
"No, Gibbs…" but her eyes did all the smiling for her; her face flaunted a quietly bemused expression as she folded her arms tighter against her chest. "But it got you talking.. didn't it." His eyebrow slowly rose as he mirrored her stance, crossing his arms in front of him; amused that she had emotionally fooled him, but was still not fully convinced.
She breathed deeply and looked at him softly, her eyes full of quiet understanding and an odd sense of gratitude. It was safe to say that for a brief moment, Gibbs had frightened her; she was fully aware of that side of him, of his protective "hunt-them-down-like-dogs" demeanor, but she had never imagined she'd witness it in this context. Despite what others may have considered over-the-top, she respected, even deeply admired his sheltering care: Gibbs' "gentle" side. It gradually warmed her wholeheartedly to be on the direct, receiving end of such attention.
"You're not going to let me take a cab, are you…?" she asked doubtfully. Her cheek began to take on a deep red tinge, subtly matching the crimson of her dress while successfully standing out against the flush that colored the rest of her face. He hesitantly brought a hand out of his pocket and raised it to her cheek, delicately touching his fingers to the soft area underneath her right eye. Kate's eyebrows rose in gentle surprise, but allowed him to gingerly touch her face, watching as his jaw-line subtly clenched. Unconsciously wetting her lips with a quick and ephemeral run of her tongue, her eyes blinked slowly.
"… Are you, Gibbs?" He brought his attention back to her eyes as his hand retreated.
"I wasn't spying on you.." he stated roughly, just loud enough for Kate to hear him unmistakably. She simply nodded, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands in front of her.
"I know.." she reached up and gently patted her hand against his cheek, stopping with a stroke of her fingers down the side of his face before returning her hand back to her own personal space. She smiled tenderly and chuckled, looking back down to her shoes. "So... are you going to drive me home, or should I start walking..?" She spoke softly, looking back up to him and lightly placing her hands precariously on her slender hips.
A barrage of emotions rushed his brain; uncertainty, affection, embarrassment, guilt, satisfaction… She saw the slight sadness creeping into his eyes and the confusion gently etched on his face. He suddenly realized how much he lamented never having the opportunity to be one of her bad choices. Kate stepped into him, leaning up and pressing a slow, slightly wet kiss to his cheek before starting to intuitively walk in the direction of his car. She turned to him when he didn't follow, the wind carelessly tossing her hair as she slowly walked backwards. Expertly sauntering in reverse, she gave him her softest 'what-are-you-waiting-for' glance.
With a few long strides he was beside her, silently walking down the sidewalk towards the next block. Before he had the chance to self-consciously shove his hands back into his pockets, Kate reached between them, still looking ahead, and slid her small hand into his. They continued quietly down the street, strolling through the cool haze of a slowly ending August night.