It was a good idea Ducky decided as his eyes traveled around the den and kitchen area of Jenny Shepard's home. NCIS and FBI personnel mixed and mingled, conversations and laughter filled the large room. He sat next to Leon Vance on the sofa and he could tell that the assistant director was thinking the same thing.

"It was nice of Jenny to invite us all over," Ducky said. "And unbelievable that she's actually letting Gibbs cook in her kitchen."

Vance laughed. "I questioned that one myself." He looked over at Tobias Fornell. "Aren't you a cook?"

Fornell shook his head and waved his beer bottle in front of him in denial. "I grill… outside on decks and porches… over open fires." He nodded towards the medical examiner. "Ducky's the chef."

Vance smiled. "Doctor Mallard, perhaps you'd like to help Agent Gibbs."

"Oh, no," Ducky replied quickly. "I wouldn't want to come between Jethro and Jenny. I think this is a good… bonding moment for them. Besides, I'm just enjoying watching them tap dance around each other."

Vance sighed. "They do tend to do a lot of that, don't they? Should we worry about them hurting each other?"

"Oh, I don't think so," Ducky answered. "At least, not tonight. Too many witnesses."

Gibbs' voice rose above the din of conversation. "No, damn it, Jenny! You have to let it simmer."

Fornell took a long swig from his beer bottle. "Of course, there's always tomorrow… empty interrogation room… dark corner of MTAC." He winced. "Could be director before you know it, Leon."

Vance shook his head. "Not how I want to inherit the position, Tobias."

"What part of simmer do you not understand?!" Gibbs' exclaimed.

"Of course, I'll accept the position if it's offered," Vance laughed. "And I'll keep an eye on empty interrogation rooms and dark corners."

"I do that already," Ducky supplied. "I find a periodic tour of the workplace to be assuring at times. All dead bodies should remain in my morgue." He smiled and glanced toward the kitchen table where Tony sat with Tim McGee and Ron Sacks. "What are Tim and Agent Sacks doing?"

"I think they're coloring," Fornell answered. "Airplanes the last time I looked." He leaned toward Ducky. "I told you Sacks had a soft side. DiNozzo's injury has… affected us all, Ducky."

He locked his gaze with Fornell's for a moment. "It's nice to know some good things have come from it." And then he glanced back over at Tony.

He was sitting between Tim and Sacks, his casted left arm cradled in his lap. It had been a little over a week since his fall, and, except for tying shoes and catching fireflies, the arm hadn't slowed him down much at all. At the moment, he was listening and watching, his gaze shifting from one person to another, but always returning to Gibbs every few seconds as if to reassure himself of his Boss's presence, his anchor in a safe harbor.

Gibbs stood in the middle of the kitchen, a white chef's apron wrapped around his waist, the words "Kiss the Cook" emblazoned across his chest. There was a trace of lipstick on one cheek from Abby's kiss, and another trace high on his forehead, courtesy of Jenny.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he'd groused earlier when the two women had kissed him, a blush spreading across his face, the edges of his ears turning pink.

Then Ziva and McGee had playfully planted kisses on either cheek, and Tony had laughed while Gibbs pushed the pair of them away.

"Not you, too," Gibbs sighed, but then winked at Tony to let him know that he was just kidding. And Tony understood. The communication between the two men was silent at times.

At the moment, Gibbs was standing in front of an open cabinet, hands on hips, eyes carefully scanning the contents of Jenny's shelves. He looked like a man on a mission. Already the ingredients for his Five Alarm Texas Chili were spread out on the counter, and now all he was missing was the last important one. Without it, the chili would just be wet, ground meat. He sighed and snapped his fingers.

"What?" Jenny gave him an exasperated roll of her eyes. Why she thought this would be a good idea was beyond her now.

"Tabasco sauce," Gibbs stated. "Don't you have any?"

"Look, Jethro, I offered up my kitchen. You were supposed to bring the supplies."

"I know. But it seems I've…"

"What?" she repeated.

Gibbs frowned. "I've overlooked the most important ingredient." He lowered his eyes as if admitting culinary defeat. "I was hoping you might have some Tabasco sauce."

Jenny shook her head. "Not that I know of. Remember, I don't cook. And Noemi's gone home for the evening. Besides, according to you, most of my meals are rubber chicken dinners. Why would I need Tabasco sauce?"

Gibbs looked up and held her gaze for a moment, and then, uncharacteristically, he conceded. "Point taken," he admitted as he reached behind him and began to untie his apron. "All right. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

Jenny rolled her eyes again. "You don't have to go to the store for Tabasco sauce. You can make chili without it."

He stared at her as if she'd spoken the unspeakable and grown two heads at the same time. "It's Five Alarm Texas Chili. Without the Tabasco, there are no alarms. Of course, being only a connoisseur of rubber chicken dinners I can understand your ignorance of the finer nuances of TexMex cooking."

Jenny had long since learned to let most of what he said go right by her. "But it's still chili, Jethro, and it's still edible."

But Gibbs was shaking his head and removing the apron.

"Something wrong?" Ziva looked over from the where she was sitting at the bar, having been talking to Jimmy Palmer about the nuances of English idioms. "Are you… throwing in the…" She glanced at Jimmy.

"Towel," he supplied.

"…throwing in the towel, Boss?"

"No, no. Just heading to the store for Tabasco sauce." He pulled his jacket off the stool at the end of the bar.

Tony, whose attention had strayed back to the crayons and drawing paper, looked up, sensing that Gibbs was going somewhere.

"Boss?" he questioned.

"I'm going to the grocery store. I won't be long. You stay here."

The look on Tony's face immediately clouded over, and he pushed back from the table. "I wanna go with you."

"No, you're fine." He cast a glance over his shoulder. "Ducky and Abby are here."

And at that moment, Abby appeared, having seen Gibbs getting ready to leave. "Everything all right?"

"Fine. Just going to get something from the store."

Jenny leaned over the bar. "He says we can't eat the chili without Tabasco sauce."

Abby grinned. "Boss-man, I never knew you were such a perfectionist in the kitchen. I mean, you are at work - which is a good thing, don't get me wrong. But in the kitchen?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Are you a perfectionist in other places as well?"

Jenny leaned closer. "No," she said with a self-satisfied smirk that only seemed to get smirkier when she saw the blush tingeing Gibbs' cheeks again.

"If the Boss-man wants Tobasco, the Boss-man will get Tobasco," Abby decreed. "Just don't take long because I'm hungry. You know, little voice…" She moved the fingers of her left hand up and down in a talking gesture. "Stomach…" Her right hand mimicked the motion of her left.

"Wasn't planning on taking a long time, Abbs," Gibbs promised, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"I wanna go," Tony demanded.

"All right," Gibbs agreed, knowing that he wouldn't get out the door without him. He pulled the car keys from his pocket. "I just hope we're not blocked in."

"Hurry up, Gibbs, we're hungry," Fornell called from across the room.

"Oh, yes, Tobias, because you've been working so hard lifting that bottle. Is that number four or five?"

"Lost count."

"Kinda like our ex-wives, huh?" Gibbs shot back.

"Why do you think I drink in the first place?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Come on, Tony, Uncle Tobias is a very bad influence." He placed a hand on Tony's shoulder and steered him toward the back door.

"Just Tabasco sauce, Jethro," Jenny called from the kitchen, staring at the food spread across the counters. There was enough to feed all of NCIS, the FBI, and the rest of the damn alphabet. There was even a three layer chocolate sheet cake in the refrigerator.

"Maybe ice cream," Gibbs suggested, pushing the back door open and winking at Tony.

"We have vanilla," Jenny reminded him.

"But we don't have chocolate," he reasoned.

Abby looked back at the spread of food in the kitchen, her eyes growing large and round at the feast spread before her. "I think the director's right. As good as the frozen stuff is, we don't need any more food."

"Ah, but ice cream is ice cream. Right, Tony?" And Gibbs was out the door with Tony tagging behind him.

"We don't need ice cream!" Jenny and Abby chorused.

~vVv~