A/N - thanks for the reviews. You'll be glad to know that with some help from the very wise Elflordsmistress I have figured out what the story is about - and that it needs 1 or 2 more parts. But for now, here's part 2.
Old Habits - part 2
"I'm telling you, there is definitely something going on with them!" DiNozzo's voice was perhaps a little too loud, even given the low hum of departing cars in the underground car park.
"You are imagining it Tony, tell him McGee." The response came in the long-suffering tone of someone who wasn't having this conversation for the first time.
"As if the probie would even know what we're talking about. He wouldn't recognise that type of sexual tension if he tripped over it. Look, there – did you see that?" The three agents were standing discretely by the main exit, ostensibly watching the departure of the last few guests, but in truth both Ziva and McGee were being distracted by their colleague's running commentary on the interaction between the Gibbs and the Director.
"He touched her back," McGee pointed out, "that's not exactly intimate. They were walking together, it's what you do."
"It's Gibbs, probie. Since when does he do anything other than deliver head slaps? They disappeared from the party together." Clearly Tony was reluctant to let go of his theory, but Ziva rolled her eyes, unprepared to let the truth be completely overtaken.
"No, the Director left – and Gibbs went after her. They were gone for 10 minutes at the most."
"A lot can happen in 10 minutes Ziva,"
"In your life maybe," she arched an eyebrow – deliberately provocative, "but some women expect a little more." She flicked a glance over to where Gibbs was leaning against the door of the Director's car – still talking to her. "Although…"
"Ha ha!" Tony did a bizarre cross between a victory dance and a leap, "you see – twenty bucks says I'm right."
"I am not following him," Ziva said firmly.
"Probie?"
"No – absolutely not. And we're not bugging the Director's car either."
"Would I suggest something like that?" They both looked at him – from their expressions it was clear they thought it very likely that he would.
"What are you doing?" They'd all missed the fact that the Director's car had finally left and Gibbs was heading towards them.
"Nothing boss!" Tony tried his best not to look guilty, but it wasn't easy when you'd come within a split second of being caught speculating about your boss' private life – and not for the first time.
"Nothing?" Ziva and McGee backed cautiously away, sensing a potential explosion, or at least a head slap.
"Well, nothing but watching the perimeter – here and here, slight dead patch on the ear wigs so we're monitoring it. Very important that the guests are protected." There was very little chance that Gibbs would be convinced by the explanation.
"That's good DiNozzo, so good in fact that I'm going to make it your responsibility to stay here until every last person has cleared the event – even the cleaning staff. Ziva, McGee – you're with him!" He didn't stop to watch their expressions, or the way his fellow agents rounded on Tony. But Leroy Jethro Gibbs did grin to himself, just a little, as he headed towards his car.
He hadn't planned this – and the drive to Jen's house wasn't long enough for him to talk himself out of whatever 'this' was. He walked up the path to her front door, trying to work out what to say to her, trying to find a satisfactory explanation for what had happened between them. He could say it was sudden, but actually it had been brewing for a while – ever since she'd reappeared in his life and told him there would be nothing but professional contact between them. Neither of them had kept to that rule - almost as soon as she'd spoken the words he'd set about undermining them and so had she, only perhaps not quite so deliberately.
But explosions and secrets had overtaken the chemistry between them and they'd both lost sight of it. In the last few weeks it had crept up on him again – and two years after she'd made it clear there could be nothing between them, something was definitely going on. This time Jen wasn't backing away, she wasn't drawing the line and neither was he. So – what had changed?
He wasn't sure he could ask her that, knew he didn't have an answer to offer in exchange.
She was leaning against the door, watching his progress, her expression as carefully blank as it would be if they were about to have a difficult conversation in her office. She'd had about 10 minutes head start and had apparently been home for long enough to remove her heels and pour a drink. He couldn't tell if she'd also had second thoughts.
"What did Hector have to say?" she asked, looking over his shoulder to the dark car occupied this evening by the agent charged with her security.
"Not much," Hector was a man of few words and Gibbs had done little more than exchange a brief greeting with him as he passed, "I'm pretty sure he's trained to be discrete." She raised an eyebrow and moved aside to let him enter. "So – you said something about coffee?"
"You don't want a drink?" as a matter of fact he did, but he knew he might still have to drive home, so he reached for the glass in her hand and took a quick swallow of bourbon before handing it back.
"Not now."
He shucked off his jacket and draped it over a chair, amused to find himself in a bright and warm kitchen instead of some steel monstrosity. He knew she could cook - all the time they'd spent undercover together had taught them a lot about each other. Now though, he couldn't be sure that the Director ever found the time to do anything more than make coffee and possibly toast. He spent a moment enjoying watching her as she moved around the space, grinding coffee beans, grabbing cream and sugar, her attention firmly on the task – rather than on him.
He should be keeping his distance, chalking this up to a feeling of nostalgia. A moment of shared weakness, not to be repeated.
And she really should have changed out of that dress – but, since she hadn't.
When he stepped up behind her she froze and he waited, wondering if she was going to stop this after all. But after a moment she carried on filling the coffee machine. He took that as tacit permission to continue, she could hardly fail to understand his intent, he was right in her body space. He wasn't in any hurry and he was enjoying a moment of being in control. He trailed his fingertip carefully over her almost bare shoulder blade and she sucked in a breath before saying,
"You like the dress?"
"I like parts of it." He traced the thin strap, leaning just a little closer as he pushed it off her shoulder altogether.
"Jethro," she said quietly – but she'd stopped moving again. He could see the pulse jumping in her neck, waiting, perhaps anticipating what he was going to do next.
"Jen," when he spoke his lips brushed the outside of her ear and she shivered. Her reaction gave his ego a kick – he enjoyed having this effect on someone who so needed to be in control. The only option seemed to be to see what else he could do to her, so he trailed his lips down her neck towards her shoulder, hearing her soft gasp.
"What are we doing?"
"If you have to ask," she turned to face him, the uncertainty apparent on her face, though she didn't move away. He knew what this was about as far as he was concerned – a night of comfort, a night when neither of them wanted to sleep alone. He hoped they were on the same page, because he doubted he was capable of anything more. But, of all the people in his life she was one of the few who might understand that about him.
Her body was telling her that tonight she should accept what he was so clearly offering – and worry about everything else in the morning. Already she felt more alive than she had in months and he'd scarcely touched her. The temptation to reciprocate, to see if they were as good together as she remembered tugged at her. But if she started down that path she wouldn't be able to retreat, she had to be certain that she was prepared to live with the consequences.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" She queried gently; playing for time, running one finger along the front of his chest in blatant retaliation for the way he'd touched her. The muscle tightening in his jaw was enough of a response for now – she had other weapons if she needed them.
"You can't always play by the rules Jen," Well, she knew that – his healthy disregard for authority was legendary and only occasionally did she take it personally. But that wasn't exactly the answer she was looking for. Which didn't stop her from being surprised when he added quietly, "I just don't want to be turned inside out."
Silently she cursed Hollis Mann, who had clearly pushed too hard; tried to get him to open up, to leave behind ghosts he'd carried for years. She understood what had prompted the attempt, and if she'd been in Mann's place she might have done the same thing. But she wasn't in her place. She was in no position to get him to leave his past behind; she didn't have the time or the energy for soul-searching. She cared about him, but she knew him too well to embark on a mission to fix him.
At least it helped her understand why they were standing here – old friends, old lovers looking for something safe and comfortable; intimacy without damage. Which didn't preclude the possibility that if they carried on with this, she'd be the one to get hurt. Well, there were all kinds of risks – and, after last time, maybe it was her turn.
Words were complicated, he'd already said more than she expected him to – which left only action. She reached up, stroking her hand over his face, watching his eyes darken. Already the prospect of sleeping alone tonight was unpalatable, she shifted against him, hips pressing against his.
"Let's go to bed."
She woke when he got out of bed, turning onto her side she watched him pull on his clothes. The illuminated face of the clock beside the bed told her it was early, that there was no real reason for him to go. She stretched, considering her options; she could easily let him leave as she would with any other one-night stand. But this wasn't someone she would never have to see again. And, despite their best intentions she wasn't sure this was going to be one night.
On the other hand, if he was regretting this, if for the next couple of days or weeks things between them were going to be awkward and embarrassed it might be better to let him go. At least she would get a head start on all the difficult moments she was going to be facing.
Surprisingly she didn't have any regrets – that could be because she was still half asleep. Or, it could be because they had been as good as she'd remembered – and her mood was being affected by good sex endorphins. But there was no point avoiding the issue; the person she'd become under his guidance understood the value of making your position very clear. She was going to articulate what she wanted and let him make his own decisions. If she knew one thing about Gibbs it was that he knew his own mind.
"You don't have to leave," she said quietly, making him pause and look over at her.
He wasn't surprised that she'd woken, good agents quickly became light sleepers – and she'd been a very good agent, one who'd spent more time in dangerous places than most of her colleagues.
She was unexpectedly beautiful in the grey light of pre-dawn, he knew this was a side of her few people got to see – softer, without the aura of command surrounding her. The prospect of staying was more tempting than he expected – which summed up everything about this night.
He'd expected her to be embarrassed, already making excuses and beginning the process of re-writing history to remove this event. But the woman watching him with her lips curved into a smile didn't look as though she was rehearsing excuses. As he looked at her she stretched and while he was admiring the way her body looked beneath the sheets she curled into the space he had vacated.
"Come back to bed and keep me warm Jethro, it's too early to get up."
"If you want something to keep you warm, get a cat."
"Cats need to be fed, you make do with coffee."
"Well, that's true," she buried her head in the pillow and gave every sign of going back to sleep – which was his cue to leave. Except that he didn't. If ever there was someone who knew how to keep her distance it was Jen. And he needed that in a lover at the moment.
She smiled when he slid back into the bed and nipped his shoulder playfully just to stop the moment from becoming too serious. His response was what she'd been hoping for; he rolled her over and pinned her arms above her head. She smirked at him, because this definitely wouldn't be happening if he'd left and because she didn't want to think about the fact that there was no way he'd be here the next time she woke up.
TBC