a/n: GIBBS CUDDLES, IT'S CUTE

August, 2001

Her favorite part of the evening was just before her baby's bedtime; he was usually so amicable and sweet—because he was sleepy and clean and warm—that he chattered to her and Gibbs nonsensically and did adorable, cute things while she read to him.

She lay on her side in the master bedroom, wrinkling her nose and letting Benjamin stroke her face or play with her hair as he wished while Gibbs tore through the basement trying to figure out where they'd lost his stuffed tiger and where the tattered copy of Goodnight, Moon was.

"Dada," Benjamin said pleasantly. "Dada," he said again, blinking as he crawled forward and rolled over, throwing himself into Jenny and giggling.

She frowned and leaned over him, shaking her hair on his face to tickle him and make him laugh some more.

"Mama," she corrected light-heartedly.

Benjamin—tended to refer to herself and his father both as Dada and she wasn't sure if it was because he was lazy, stupid, or a conniving little twerp. He was fourteen months old and seemed to be exhibiting a Jethro-like rejection of actually talking.

She tickled his toes, and he squirmed away, kicking onesie covered feet.

"Dada!" he cried, exasperated.

Gibbs materialized out of nowhere with the tiger and the book in hand, sitting down heavily on the bed and leaning over. He snatched Benjamin gently from her, pretending to rescue him, and cuddled him against his chest easily with one strong arm. Jenny sat up a little, smiling, and Benjamin scrunched up his face and reached for his tiger.

"Tag, Dada," he insisted.

"Here, buddy," Gibbs answered, handing it straight to him. He tossed the old book to Jenny, and she drew it to her, flipping through it on their bed.

"Where was it?" she asked.

"Under the couch," Gibbs grunted. "Think he threw it after last night's bedtime meltdown."

"Ah," Jenny murmured—okay; so bedtime wasn't always the best part of the night.

But really—Benjamin was so little that he went to bed early, so she usually still had a few hours of adult time with Gibbs before the stress of the workday hit her over the head with exhaustion.

She smoothed out the book, opening to the first page.

"Jethro, don't let him chew on that," she said lightly, nodding at the baby.

"Ben," growled Gibbs gently. "No," he said, taking the tiger's tail out of his mouth.

Benjamin stuck his tongue out—or, well, let his tongue hang out of his open mouth, and glared obstinately at Gibbs, reaching for it.

"Dada," he whined. "Dada!" he demanded.

"Don't chew on it," Gibbs muttered, warily handing the toy back.

Jenny frowned.

"When is he going to say Mama?" she asked, pouting. She shifted and crawled over, wrinkling her nose and pressing it against his little chest. "Ben?" she demanded. "Say Mama."

He lowered his head and head-butted her immediately. Jenny pulled back and narrowed her eyes.

"That hurts Mama," she said pointedly.

He blinked at her.

"Mama," Gibbs said gruffly, pointing at Jenny. "Ben. C'mon, son, give her a small victory."

Jenny turned her head and shoved it rudely into Gibbs shoulder. He shrugged her off, smirking.

Benjamin reached out and stroked Jenny's hair.

"Dada," he said to Gibbs.

Gibbs laughed outright. Jenny sighed patiently.

"My day will come," she said dramatically.

Gibbs snorted.

"You're just the food supply, Jen," he mocked good-naturedly.

"He only says Dada because it's easier for babies," she retorted loftily.

Benjamin tilted his head back, looking up at Gibbs. Gibbs looked back at him seriously, wondering what was going on in his little head. The baby struggled against Gibbs, standing up in his lap, and leaned over his arm, blinking at Jenny seriously.

"Jen," Benjamin said.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

Jenny opened her mouth, her eyes lighting up in excitement—and then she froze, her brows knitting in confusion.

"Did he—Jen?—what?" she spluttered, glaring at her son.

Gibbs made a gruff noise like he was holding back laughter. Jenny sat upright and patted her chest violently, looking intently at the baby.

"Mama," she said. "I'm Mama," she repeated emphatically.

Benjamin stared at her, confused. Then he threw his tiger at her.

"Jen," he repeated stubbornly.

This time, Gibbs did laugh—loudly, throwing his head back to add insult to injury.

Jenny gave them both an outraged look.

"Wonder how long he'll call you that," Gibbs teased smugly—and she leaned over and bit his shoulder in annoyance.

"Jen?" she squawked, affronted. "This is your fault Jethro—he's so enamored of you," she groused, slouching heavily against the headboard. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I should have stayed in Italy," she sighed dramatically.

"Hey," growled Gibbs, leaning over and sticking his head and Benjamin's in her face. Benjamin puckered his lips obediently—he knew close ups meant kisses. Gibbs narrowed his eyes sternly.

"Don't ever say that," he said in a low voice. He smirked, and added: "Jen."

August, 2001

-alexandra