a/n - Thank you all for the wonderful comments this story is receiveing. Between the four stories currently being posted on my two profiles, I'm a very busy girl, let's hope I can keep up the pace. This story should be safe for a while, as I'm currently working on chapter 14.

The jalapeno and the lime tickled his nose, but the view warmed his heart as he stealthily watched Tim chop and stir. Apparently not as stealthy as he thought, because Tim spoke without even turning around. "Is there gas for the grill?"

He thought about it for a minute. The last time he'd grilled anything had been in July when Abby had insisted everyone invade his house to watch the fireworks. He'd filled the tank for that day but it had only taken a few minutes for DiNozzo to scorch all the hot dogs. "There should be plenty. Hasn't been used since the fourth. By the way, why was DiNozzo turning hot dogs into charcoal when you and Ziva are such great cooks?" He got a grin as Tim poured the marinade into a plastic bag with the meat and sealed it. "Tony brought the hot dogs so he had to cook them remember? Ziva brought that fruit salad that everyone inhaled."

He did remember, frowning. "You brought a cake from some bakery."

"Nope, I brought a cake in a bakery style box." The young man waited, his smile growing wider as he watched the thought process on the face of the other man.

"You made that? Why the box; why not just put it on a plate to bring it?" He did remember that cake, in fact he looked in the window of every bakery he'd passed for weeks afterwards trying to find where it had come from. "Most importantly, can you make it again?"

McGee had to laugh at the eager face. This was a side of Gibbs he never dreamed was there. "Sure, I can make it again." He started to wash his hands, being careful to get all the traces of jalapeno off his fingers. "As for why the box, it was easier than having Tony and Abby assume that I was trying to pass of a purchased cake as one I made."

As much as it pained him, he could see Tim's point. "Not Ziva?"

"We trade recipes. She thinks it's funny that Tony hasn't figured it out."

Gibbs thought it was, too. "Say, can you get that recipe from her, that beef thing she makes?"

"Actually, she got it from me." McGee looked around the kitchen, and apparently satisfied tossed the hand towel on the countertop. "I'm going to change and take Jethro for a run. Where's the nearest park around here?"

"There's an off-leash park about a mile from here. I'll go with you."

---NCIS---

Jethro looked on in amusement as his namesake pranced at the door, holding his leash in his mouth while Tim sat on the bottom of the staircase and tied his shoes. "Just how does the Marine Corps train their dogs nowadays?"

Shoes tied, Tim stood up headed for the door and Jethro, taking the leash as it was dropped in his hand. "He's got some quirks if you hadn't noticed." The snort from behind him told that the other man had noticed. "Hanson put up with it, but after he was dead, the Corps didn't think it was worth it to retrain him with another handler. Why did you think they were so willing to hand him over after it was proven he wasn't a killer?"

"Guess I never really thought about it. You ready?"

Gibbs pointed out the turns, but let McGee set the pace, surprised when it turned out they had a very similar running style. Once they were at the park, Jethro was happy to lose the leash. From the pack Tim had at his waist he produced a ball and the two men took turns throwing it for the very happy dog. A neighbor from down the street approached them with his partner and their small dog. Gibbs laid his hand on Tim's back as he tried to remember their names. "Kyle, Martin, I'd like you to meet Tim. Tim, Kyle and Martin live about a block from us in the brown and green split level we pass on the way to work."

Tim nodded, leaning back into Gibbs as he offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, this is Jethro, our dog." Jethro came back with the ball and dropped it at Gibbs' feet before retreating to his water bowl.

Martin looked at Tim, smiling. "You named him Jethro? That is so sweet." His partner grinned at the couple.

"It's about time you gave up on all those silly red-headed women, Gibbs. We'll have to get together and go out clubbing one of these nights now that you're out of the closet." After another round of handshakes, the two couples separated as Kyle and Martin continued on their way.

They waited until the departing men were well out of earshot before even moving. Gibbs turned to him with a straight face. "Well, that was easier than I thought." He managed to wait almost three seconds before bursting into laughter. McGee slapped at his arm, pretending to be offended, biting back his own laughter while Jethro circled around them, barking happily.

The trip back to the house was made at a much more leisurely pace as Gibbs pointed out the houses of people he knew, giving tidbits of gossip about each of them. Tim was enjoying this playful side of Gibbs and it wasn't until Jethro started barking that he noticed the smoke pouring out of their next-door neighbor's kitchen window. Both men broke into a run, meeting the elderly woman on her front porch.

"Oh, Jethro, it's my casserole."

Understanding that it was dinner burning and not the house, the two men entered, leaving Jethro on the porch with her. Gibbs got the back door open and the vent running while McGee pulled out what was left of a broken ceramic dish and began scooping out the smoldering remains of its contents from the bottom of the oven. Over his shoulder, Gibbs explained in a quiet voice that his neighbor was Mildred Brewer, a seventy-five year old widow that most of the neighbors called Mrs. B. Gibbs had started doing some of the basic maintenance around the house for her after her husband died. Tim nodded in understanding and as soon as he had the worst of the mess cleaned out of the oven he moved back out onto the porch, kneeling down beside the distraught woman. Quietly, Gibbs followed him.

Tim waited for her to look up before he said anything. When she finally made eye contact, he squeezed her hand. "Mrs. B? Hi, I'm Tim." From the thick bifocals and the cloudy film of cataracts he was pretty sure what had happened. "That was a pretty old casserole dish you were using, wasn't it?" She nodded as he continued. "I think it had a crack in it that finally gave way from the heat. I've got most of it cleaned up and after the oven cools off, I'll get the rest of it cleaned up. Now why don't you just sit here for a few more minutes while we get the smoke cleared out of there for you and then you come have dinner with us?"

Before she could turn the offer down, Gibbs stepped forward. "I insist you come have dinner with us. Tim's a wonderful cook, and by the time we're done, we'll have your house all aired out."

"I don't want to be a bother." She started to tear up as the stress began taking its toll. Jethro nudged his nose under her hand, demanding to be petted and she started laughing. "All right, all right, I'd love to have dinner with the three of you." She continued to pet and coo as she asked his name. When told, she looked up at the two men standing side by side. "You named him after Agent Gibbs? That is so sweet." McGee managed to subtly kick at the other man before Gibbs retreated to gather fans from his basement, choking back laughter as he ran.

Dinner was a fun affair. Gibbs fired up the grill while Tim made the pineapple salsa and tossed a salad. He was unsure about offering beer to their guest, but she happily took the offered beer with a wedge of lime. The three of them ate out on the back deck, Jethro waiting for one of them to drop something his direction. When Gibbs picked up a bone, Tim put his foot down.

"He doesn't get pork bones; they're too small." He wasn't sure which Jethro looked more disappointed, while Mrs. B. giggled at both of them. When he took in the empty plates, he could hear the conversation behind him.

"He's such a sweet young man, Jethro." Mrs. B. reached out and patted Gibbs' arm. "This one's a keeper; much better than any of those red-heads you keep finding." Tim chuckled as he dished up slices of the frozen lemonade pie he had stashed in the freezer. On a warm, muggy night like this one, the pie would be the perfect finish.

Balancing three pie plates, he backed out of the door, letting his hip open it for him and making enough noise that he didn't catch them unaware. The grin on Gibbs' face told him the older man knew exactly what he had overheard and why he was so noisy coming out.

After dinner both men walked her back home, Gibbs checking to make sure everything was secure, while Tim made sure the elderly woman promised to not tackle cleaning the bottom of the oven herself. He would be over in the morning to take care of it for her. On the way back, under the watchful eye of Mrs. B, Gibbs took Tim's hand as they walked.

"Remember, you cooked, so I clean?" Gibbs gave a playful sway to Tim's backside as he started to clean up. Laughing, Tim detoured to give Jethro his dinner before sitting down at the kitchen table. Gibbs froze as he finished loading the last of the dishes and slowly turned around. "What is he doing?"

Tim smiled at the familiar sound. "He's stirring his food."

"With his nose?"

"Yep." Tim causally continued to read the newspaper that had been on the table since that morning. "Counter-clockwise, to be precise."

Drying his hands, Gibbs walked over to better watch the dog. Sure enough, he would take a bite of the dry dog food, then stir two complete revolutions counter-clockwise with his nose before repeating the entire procedure. "Is he hoping something better will pop up?"

Tim didn't even need to look up to know what Gibbs was considering. "You've snuck him enough treats today."

The ringing of his cell phone saved Gibbs from admitting anything, but he smirked when he saw the caller ID. "Dinner's over Vance." He turned serious quickly which gained McGee's attention. "No, we haven't looked at it yet. We'll talk to you in the morning about it." When he closed his phone, Tim set down the paper and used his foot to push one of the other chairs away from the table.

"The file?"

"Yeah." He sat down in the chair Tim had pushed back for him. "We don't have to do this. At least not tonight, we can wait and look through it in the morning. We've had a good day today."

"Exactly, today has been a very good day considering. So, let's look at it and get it over with rather than having it hanging over our heads." When Gibbs didn't look convinced, he continued. "If I could live through it as a kid, I can handle reading about it as an adult."

Once Gibbs had retrieved it from the basement, the two men settled in what was becoming their favorite spot in the house. Tim was much taller than the women in Jethro's past, but eventually they found a way to be comfortably snuggled together and began to read.

"It seems so different to read about what happened."

"Can you tell me what you remember?"

Tim shifted slightly and Jethro tightened his arm around him. "I was walking home from school when he grabbed me. I was only a few blocks from the base; I could see the gate, so it was supposed to be safe."

"Why weren't you riding the bus?" A shrug was his only answer and he knew just how young the bullying had started.

Staring at his hands, Tim continued in a soft voice. "I just remember being in the dark and hurting so badly. He kept me tied to the bed the whole time."

"Oh, Timmy."

"The worst part wasn't what he did; it wasn't even the threats, or being bounced around in foster care. It was afterwards, after Mom died."

"Your dad hurt you?"

"No, he never laid a hand on me."

"But you said…"

"He never hit me, he never hugged me, never patted me on the back, not even a handshake when I graduated. Like I said, never a hand."

Jethro didn't say a word, couldn't even if he'd had the words to say. All he could do was tighten his arms, hold on tight and swear that Tim would never again know such loneliness.