Chapter 7 Gibbs and You
He knows he has to deal with it now. But for some reason he stays silent. I guess he doesn't know what to say, I don't know what to say. So we don't say anything. He just stands there beside me staring into my eyes reading my thoughts.
Goodness me, he is shirtless… so very very shirtless. Luckily I've retained most of my outer clothing. But I have no idea where on earth my pants are. At least my knickers help me to have some kind of modesty. How I lost my pants remains a mystery.
"So," I say, drawing a breath before speaking again, hoping that my eyes are telling him that I'm taking the situation lightly, "How much do you remember?"
The corner of one side of his mouth curls up and he bobs his head as if in silent laughter at the thoughts entering his head. Or is that the mental pictures?
"Every detail." He drew out the sentence. "Every single detail."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry or blush! This is not the reaction I had expected from Jethro Gibbs. My boss. MY BOSS. This is out of control; I cannot believe this is happening to me.
The look on my face seems to give me away because he loses him smile somewhere between my uncovered legs and my worried eyes. I feel queasy, like I'm on a boat and I hope the whiskey doesn't repeat itself. I bring a shaky hand to my forehead, feeling the need to take things slow and gentle.
His face is set and I know he's about to say something profound, its that look on his face, I can't even put my finger on what it is that tells me so. Maybe I want him to go back to being light-hearted and joking about this. What is he going to say?
"I have to go to work or Dinozzo will beat me." He says with a straight face. That's what he put his serious face on to say? I ask myself in amazement. "I'll stop by tonight and check up on you. Then we can talk." He adds the last part as more of an after thought slash question as if to ask me whether this is something we need to talk about.
"Yeah sure." I reply lightly. I have no idea what there is to talk about but I'm actually happy to be taking the day off now because I don't have to spend the day looking over my computer screen at him trying to remember in vain the things we did or did not do last night. And also my arm is killing me! "What time do you think you'll be over?" I only ask so that I won't be asleep or hitting the bottle due to some memory risen from the haze when he shows up.
"I'll come by around six." I nod my approval. He's leaving my bedroom, presumably to get some clothes on. When he comes back he's fully clothed and has his keys in his hand ready to go. Then he does something as unexpected as getting drunk with his coworker and doing goodness knows what with her on her couch. He bends over in his sober state and kisses me gently on the cheek. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, feels like the morning after to me. He acts casually and says goodbye but I detect a hint of caution and fear in his movements.
And long after he's gone I can still feel his unshaven whiskers pressing into my soft skin. I bring my hand up to my cheek but dare not touch the spot; instead my hand hovers over the area. I don't want this feeling to go away.
So now I have all day to try to remember what we did last night. And to work through these feelings for my boss.