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Chapter Text

Between the difficulty unwinding, the night terrors, and the inability to fall back asleep once awake, Sloane never really established a good relationship with nighttime. It’s why it wasn’t unusual that she was lying in bed at one in the morning, her eyes completely wide open. The reason, however, was unique.

Her body had retired to her queen sized bed about two hours ago. A glass of wine and a good book accompanied her on the bedside table. She had been back and forth between her novel and her phone, but within the last twenty minutes her focus had been solely on her bedroom window. More specifically, the small gap between the glass and the lace, white curtain that lifted softy when the night breeze blew in. Her eyes were fixated on a navy blue sedan that sat right outside her home, the headlights having been dim for minutes now. The vehicle was unfamiliar and the license plate was illegible. She could only make out the presence of one body in the driver's seat from her awkward line of sight on her bed. Without much movement from the suspicious guest, she was tempted to blame it all on paranoia and just double check her front door lock before turning in for the night. Before she could act on the thought, the car door opened and what looked to be a young man, maybe in his early 20s, slipped out onto the road. Watching intently, she shimmed her body further down into her mattress and caught the street light reflecting off the man’s glasses. Red-rimmed and chunky, the shape shot heat up her spine. She knew someone who wore those glasses and she was suddenly praying it was anyone but them.

- - -

“Gibbs,” his monotone voice cutting through
the crisp air that filled her bedroom.

“Hey Gibbs,” Jack said softly, keeping her eyes on the man who was now making his way towards her front door.

“What’s wrong?” he said almost immediately.

“Could be nothing,” she exclaimed, beginning to pull back her covers. “But I think Joe Kaden is outside my condo.”

She heard the muffled sound of a sander being dropped and the echo of hurried footsteps up wooden stairs.

“Joe Kaden. The jackass we had to cut loose this morning, Joe Kaden?”

“Mhm,” she confirmed, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers as she crept closer to the window. “The one who threatened me after I brought up his daughter? The one who I ignored and involved his daughter anyway? Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Jack, I’m on my way,” Gibbs called out, the clear cut sound of a truck engine ringing through the line as he spoke.

“Yeah okay,” she replied calmly, “I can take care of myself, but I’m thinking we are going to have to take him in.”

“No one is taking anyone in until I get there,” Gibbs ordered. “You get yourself behind a locked door.”

Sloane reached under her mattress as he spoke, pulling out her gun and checking the cartridge. She kept the phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she pulled back the curtain to get a better view of the street. He was definitely alone but he wasn’t unarmed. His right hand clutched something tightly and she was pretty positive it wasn’t a thank you card.

“A door is not going to do much when he’s got a gun,” Jack joked, her soft chuckle straggling every possible shout that gurgled up his throat.

“Jack-“

“I gotta go! See you soon,” she whispered, as if it was the most casual meet-up in the world. She ended the call before she could hear him call out her name again.

- - -

The sound of the front door knob being twisted and tugged let her know that her visitor was ready for action. She had tucked herself into the mudroom closet on the left of the entranceway and she was armed with a gun in one hand and a cast iron skillet in the other. The closet had no doors, it was simply a cut out in the wall, so she prayed the act of surprise would be on her side.

A single gunshot took the knob right off. Joe’s foot made contact with the door, just below the newly made bullet hole, flinging it wide open. Jack held her breath, waiting for at least a leg to make itself known on her tile flooring before jumping out. A black sneaker came into her line of view and she didn’t waste a moment, throwing herself from the safety of the coats and hangers to successfully clock the intruder over the head with the frying pan. The loud thud of iron hitting skull took not only Jack, but also the second man at her doorway, by surprise.

“So you really thought I would come alone?” smirked Joe, twirling the handle of his gun in his palm.

Raising her gun, she met his voice, “Didn’t know you were coming at all, Joe.”

The red-rimmed glasses seemed unphased by her attempted joke. “A man must keep his word. I will always protect my family,” he snarled.

Glancing down quickly to the face smashed against her floor she realized something. “Your brother,” she stated more than asked.

“You really thought he was dead?” Joe’s voice cracked on the word dead and it made the hair on Jack’s arms stand up.

“You are full of surprises,” she countered calmly, the barrel of her gun pointed firmly at his chest. A fake dead twin as the murder accomplice; she didn’t see that one coming.

“Yasmine sees Jake every Sunday,” he recalled, his voice beginning to melt at the mention of his daughter’s name. “They like to play monopoly and chess and cook macaroni together. She loves her uncle.”

“She would have ratted out his secret life without even knowing it.”

“She didn’t need to get involved, but you didn’t seem to care.“ His voice cracked again.

“Your brother killed a marine. I was just doing my job Joe, I would never-“

“Yeah, well now I need to do my job, Special Agent Sloane,” he barked, cutting off her explanation.

A flash of anger struck his dark brown eyes and before she could begin to reason with him, his temper skyrocketed.

“No one gets in the way of my family!” he shouted, whipping a gun out from the back pocket of his trousers. His arm was shaking profusely, but his pointer finger was sturdy on the trigger.

Three cruisers pulled onto her street with the introduction of the weapon. Bright lights, sirens, and the screeching of tires created a sensory overload for Joe and Jack could see he was fighting to stay on target.

“Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot,” Jack asserted, trying her best to focus him to her voice.

“My daughter!” he screamed, cocking back the hammer of the pistol.

Three shots. One. Two. Three.

Two bullets left her barrel and met his chest. One bullet left his barrel and met her bulletproof vest. His body dropped to meet the other man’s, who still lay unconscious on her doorstep. Her body stumbled backwards as one hand clutched her vest and the other gripped the door frame for stability.

Gibbs was the first up her driveway, with Torres and Bishop tight in behind him.

“I’m all good guys,” she called out, attempting to get back on her feet.

“Doesn’t look all good,” Gibbs protested, falling to his knees in front of her and resting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing.

“Gibbs,” she said more softly, pushing his shoulder a little to give herself some space. “I’m fine.”

He knew an adrenaline wear-off when he saw one, and the way her eyes were darting around everywhere except the team’s worried gaze was a dead giveaway.

“Torres, Bishop,” Gibbs barked over his shoulder. “Get Joe out of here. McGee, take Joe’s buddy to Palmer.”

“Twin,” she corrected, drawing her finger between the two bodies. “Joe’s buddy is his ‘dead’ twin.”

With equal parts suspicion and shock, the three agents got to work, but Gibbs leaned back into Jack’s space.

“Did you even hear what I said?’ she snapped. The electricity in her eyes was finding no comfort in his wrath of anxiety. “It was the twin and Joe was covering for him. And the daughter, she-“

“I don’t care about the case right now, Jack.” He practically towered over her and she was worried if he got any closer she’d start sinking into the floor. “You’re injured.”

He reached to touch the bullet marking on the vest but she swatted his hand away.

“I took care of it didn’t I?” she pouted, pointing at the two men who were each being strapped to a stretcher.

“You got shot!”

His hand reached up to her cheek, but she swerved at the contact.

“I’m fine,” she seethed. His hand dropped to his side like it had been badly burned.

“No, you’re stubborn,” he corrected, with a little more heat in his tone than he had intended, “and you’re going to see a doctor.”

She didn’t respond but instead shifted her position on the ground so most of her weight was on her right leg and right hand. Using as much strength as she could muster, she pushed herself up off the ground. Unfortunately, the standing position lasted all of two seconds before she lurched forward.

“Easy,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around her waist almost immediately. “Will you let me help you just this once?”

Her eyes met his with a signature combination of annoyance and sass, but she wasn’t stupid. There was no way she was walking more than a metre. “Mhm,” she mumbled, limping forward as he tucked her into his side.

Chapter Text

“Three broken ribs and you are seriously trying to go back to bed?”

Her head shot back towards him as she dragged herself away from Palmer’s M.E. van and towards her house.

“I’m not going to bed, I’m just going home. This is where I live, Gibbs.” Her tone reeked of impatience.

“Shouldn’t be,” he confessed under his breath. If she heard him she didn’t react, so he continued.

“I’m taking you to the hospital, Jack. That examination wasn’t enough.”

“Like hell I’m going to the hospital!” she all but shouted. Torres and Bishop, who were just stepping into their cruiser, snapped their heads up at the sound of her voice. Their concern swarmed her and nothing she tried made it easier to breathe. She bit her tongue hard in response. She wanted to scream but the air in her lungs was trapped. Why couldn’t everyone just back up and go home? Darkness was caving into the edges of her eyesight and she fought hard to keep her tears at bay.

“Not asking,” Gibbs replied, reaching out to gently touch her wrist. The muscles in her arm tensed hard and she tried to pull away.

“Please,” he pleaded, his thumb tracing the vein that was furiously pumping under her skin. “Please.” His voice was barely a whisper the second time.

She shrugged off his touch when his grip on her arm loosened and without making eye contact she turned and headed towards his truck.

- - -

“Dr. Sloane,” the nurse in the emergency room called out, “you can come with me.”

Jack’s eyes fell immediately to the man beside her. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since getting into his truck and she didn’t have the energy to start now. She had refused every touch and every ounce of comfort he had tried to pour into her and so she certainly didn’t deserve him now either. But she needed him. She needed him close.

His eyes followed her’s and quickly found that they were fixated on the floor between their feet. Reaching his hand down and towards her knee, he rested it there with his palm open and welcoming. Wiggling his fingers, he found her hand secured in his in seconds. Smirking ever so slightly, he leaned into her hair. “Come on.”

He held her hand the whole time they were in the nauseatingly white room. Their fingers separated when she had to remove her shirt, but they were immediately clasped back together afterwards. She didn’t cry, she didn’t complain, and similar to the past hour, she hardly spoke. She just sat there and listened to the doctor, only answering questions when it was necessary and letting Gibbs fill in the rest. She must of zoned out completely near the end, when the doctor was listing all things she already knew about her body, because all of a sudden she felt Gibbs tug her into a standing position.

“Thanks Doc,” said Gibbs, signalling for her to walk through the door ahead of them.

Giving him a faint smile in return she said, “make sure you keep an eye on the bruising” and then she was gone.

“Lets get out of here,” he nudged, giving Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. When she didn’t move, he tilted his head downwards to gain a better view of her face. Her cheeks were bright red and glowing.

“You,” she swallowed to try and stop her voice from wavering, “you’ve done enough. Honestly, I can get a cab.”

“Doesn’t make much sense if we’re both going back to my place.”

“No-“

“Jack, the doctor said you shouldn’t be by yourself for the next couple days. Last time I checked the only other person at your house is Ellie on Fridays for wine.”

“Giiiiibbbbssss,“ Jack whined, lifting her leg slightly and then planting it firmly back down on the cold tile floor.

“And if it’s not the doctor’s call then it’s Leon’s. I can call him right now and get a second opinion if you’d like...”

“I’m the one who gets to pull the Leon card,” she pouted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Finally got my chance,” he smirked. “Kinda want to have to call him just so you can really get the full experience.”

Jack exhaled a soft giggle and it singlehandedly flattened every worry line that creased his forehead.

“What’s it gonna be Sloane?”

Pretending as if she had a lot to ponder, she brought her finger to her lips and tapped it in question.

“Fire, coffee, and any NCIS hoodie I want.”

Now it was Gibbs’ turn to laugh. “Deal.”

- - -

“Ya comfy enough?” Gibbs chuckled at Sloane, who was sauntering down the stairs in the biggest NCIS hoodie he owned. It was one of his oldest ones too, black with red patch lettering. The “I” in NCIS had fallen off but the outline of the letter remained in faded red stitching. Her body was swimming in the material and Gibbs was convinced that he could fit a whole extra Sloane just in the front sweater pouch.

“I am,” she smiled widely, reaching behind her head and pulling the hood over her messy curls.

“Could have used some help getting it on though. Left arm not so good,” she said, patting it softly with her other hand.

The confession was casual. She barely skipped a beat, stepping right past Gibbs’ shocked expression in search of a coffee mug. He dropped his chin to his chest in attempt to hide the raging colour that spread like wild fire across his cheeks. He would have helped her with his sweater if.....
It was the cursing under her breath that welcomed him back to reality. He caught the end of what looked like her left arm giving up on reaching for a coffee mug above her.

“What was that about your arm?” he joked softly, stepping in behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder before reaching up and retrieving the desired object.

His closeness had her swivelling in place so that their chests were almost completely pressed together. The smell of him,
intensified by the scent of his hoodie, was a deadly combination. She pressed her hips slightly against his countertop to give herself some needed space but his broad shoulders encompassed her body anyway.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, coffee,” she blushed, ducking out from under his arm as he shifted his attention to the coffee maker. “Thank you.”

Four minutes later and the liquid black fuel was pouring lovingly into her selected mug.

“Not sure if I put enough of that ungodly sweet stuff in here but I’m sure you’ll let me know if I didn’t,” he teased, turning towards the couch with the slightly sweetened battery acid in hand.

He only made it about two steps out of the kitchen before stopping. Jack lay still on the couch, her body curled up into a tight ball with her head propped up on the armrest. Her eyes were sealed shut, but from his angle in the doorway she looked peaceful. He sighed softly as he pulled a blanket over her and rested the coffee on the table in front of her. Grabbing a second blanket, he curled up (to the best of his ability) on the other side of the couch.

Chapter Text

“I’m going with you,” she mumbled under the weight of his knit blanket. All Gibbs heard was “I mhm-ing with mhm.”

She rubbed her eyes slowly, allowing the man in front of her to come into focus. He stared back at her with a small grin and a grey suit jacket.

“No, I’m serious,” she whispered, stretching one leg out of the blanket cocoon, attempting to brush the bottom of his trousers with her toes.

“I’ll see ya for dinner Jack,” he replied, making his way towards the front door.

“You asking me out?” she called over her shoulder as he disappeared from her line of sight.

A chuckle and a light click of the front door closing let her know he was gone. She burrowed back into the well-worn cushions and let the warmth and the smell of the coffee he had just brewed carry her back to sleep.

- - -

The team caught a case practically the moment Gibbs stepped foot in the building. It wasn’t until early afternoon that they found themselves piling into the elevator.

McGee was the first to break the typical silence. “Bank records and phone records are probably a good place to start, Boss.” Gibbs nodded.

“I’ve got a connection with one of the building managers. Maybe they know why her apartment has been vacant?” Ellie added. Gibbs nodded again.

“You think there’s something else Gibbs?” Torres stated more than he asked.

“Yeah,” Gibbs barked, stepping out of the elevator first. “We need a profile.”

“Did someone say a profile?”

He was positive he was hearing things until the rest of his team turned to greet the sound of Jack’s voice. From across the room, a small, blonde head, full of life, could be seen in the bullpen. Ellie took off, eager to see with her own two eyes that Jack was okay. She got her answer instantly when she saw Gibbs’ desk. Jack was sitting in Gibbs’ chair, stretched back with her feet on his desk, a pen twisting between two of her fingers, a file spread out on her lap, and her thick, black glasses resting on the tip of her nose.

“At least I hope you did,” she sighed, “I’m getting nowhere with this cold case.” Flinging the file back onto his desk, and shifting her glasses up into her hair, she graced Ellie with a bright smile.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Ellie practically squealed, making her way around the desk to give Jack a soft hug.

“This woman never ceases to amaze me,” Torres chuckled, moving around the desk to give Jack a light kiss on the cheek.

“It’s good to have you back,” McGee echoed.

“Oh no,” Gibbs said, shaking his head, “she’s not back.”

Her eyes fell flat and she curled her bottom lip down to her chin in protest.

“I’m feeling better, I promise. I’ll sit here and I won’t move my upper body an inch. Someone can type my every thought if you want,” she said while dramatically waving her good arm around.

“You did say we needed a profile,” Torres chimed in, earning himself a harsh glare.

“Gimme,” Jack chirped, sticking out her hand to Torres and graciously accepting the file folder he gave her. Gibbs tried to get her to meet his disapproving eyes, but the glimmer in hers’ told him she was getting a little too much amusement out of the conversation to stop now.

“Ou, multiple murders,” she exclaimed as she spread out the photos on Gibbs’ desk. Looking up to greet slightly concerned faces she added, “I just need something to do.”

“You’ve been off half a day!”

Jack waved off Gibbs’ claim and buried herself into the most graphic photo first. The clicking of fingers on keyboards and the low murmurs let her know that the team had gotten back to work. All except the owner of the chair she was claiming. He continued to watch her from his spot in front of his desk.

“I can make room for another chair, Cowboy.”

“Nah,” he said, taking his gun out and placing it on the desk, “your office has a couch.”

At first, she only let out a small giggle, but once he started making his way up the stairs she let her laugh go. The whole team seemed to get a kick out of it, ready for the anticipated turnaround. But he didn’t. He smiled softly at Jack from the platform at the top before disappearing into her office.

- - -

Four hours later she had a lead. It was the kind of interesting twist that psychologists craved and she could almost taste the satisfaction in her conclusion.

“Knock, knock,” she said as she opened her office door. As opposed to her vision of Gibbs laying completely horizontal of her couch, she surprisingly found him situated at her desk with her extra pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Tell me you got something,” he sighed, his voice showing more exhaustion than he probably intended it to.

“Oh, I do!”

Her giddiness was something he never took for granted. Every time he got a hint of it at work his heart skipped a beat. Raising an eyebrow, he encouraged her to go on.

“Marla,” she said, taking a step around the desk to stand beside Gibbs, “and her sister,” she paused for more dramatic effect, “are one and the same!”

“They are who? What?” Gibbs said, tossing the glasses onto her desk, before leaning back in the chair to get a better view of her facial expression. Her eyebrows were slightly knotted, but her smile perfectly relaxed her face. Her big, brown eyes almost seemed to be growing in size the longer she stared back at Gibbs.

“One and the same. You know, both are her, she is both.”

“Try harder, Sloane.” He got a small push on the shoulder for that one.

“Multiple-personalities disorder. Not exactly in the textbook form, but I have a really good feeling about this.”

“So so our victim’s closest ally could also be the killer?”
“Exactly!” Her hand shot out to brush his shoulder again but he didn’t seem all that excited about it.

“Okay,” he said, standing from the chair and stopping when he noticed she was blocking his way to the door.

“Okay? That’s all you got for me? This is a psychologist goldmine!” His face was unresponsive to her jab so she continued.

“I need to talk to her. Can’t just go off the paperwork.”

“Yeah, we’ll look into it,” Gibbs stated blandly, eyeing her and then the door to indicate he would like to get moving.

“We, like me included right?” She said, stepping in closer.

“Jack, I got my ass on the line just letting you look at the case. Leon doesn’t want you working right now.”

The gloss in her eyes dried like the moisture in the room.

“Gibbs, I’m fine. I did all this work didn’t I?” she said dryly, waving the file in front of his face. He caught it in his hand.

“Fieldwork is different, you know that.” This time it was him getting the eyebrow raise in response.

“You could have gotten badly hurt yesterday.” She also could have died, but those words were seemingly much tougher to get out.

“Yeah, and a lot more people could get hurt if you don’t let me in on this case. I know people like her Gibbs, let me talk to her.”

“I’ll talk to Leon, okay?”

Her arms folded in front of her chest as he took the file from her grip.

“Dinner, remember?”

She didn’t bite back and he was grateful for that.

Chapter Text

He got back to her office around 10 pm. She had stayed, most likely because she couldn’t drive, but also because she probably wanted to be the first person to hear about the results of the investigation. Gibbs stood over her, watching her tightly curled up body hug one end of the couch even though she had plenty of space. He couldn’t decide how he could wake her without startling her, but simply standing over her was making him indescribably antsy. Her arm was tucked protectively out in front of her body, while her other arm was tucked tightly around her midsection. She was breathing slowly, like the night before on his couch, but he could tell she was stirring.

“Jack.”

Her eyes fluttered open, timid to the sound of his voice at first. Scratching her eyes she stood, surprising Gibbs by the quickness in her step to get to her desk.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she muttered, somewhat to him but mostly to herself.

“Couldn’t drive home anyway, right?” he said softly, unsure of the tone he was picking up.

“Was going to take a cab,” she stated bluntly, scooping up her bag with her good arm and her coat with her bad one.

Gibbs reached for her coat but she twisted her body towards the door.

“What’s up, Jack?”

She sighed as if contemplating whether he deserved a response.

“Leon stopped by,” she replied, exiting the office, and forcibly igniting a spring in Gibbs’ step to make it out after her.

“Said he talked to you about me coming back, but I guess you already know that.”

“Jack,” he said, drawing out the name he loved so much to buy him some time. She was about three-quarters of the way down the hallway, but before turning the corner said “My ability to do my work is not your call Gibbs, it’s Leon’s. But I guess you don’t play by anybody’s rules but your own, right?”

He watched her go before he picked up his pace. Finding his suit jacket unusually itchy, he ran his finger back and forth underneath the cuff, his eyes glued to the floor. Ten minutes passed before he found himself in the bullpen.

“She just left,” Torres from behind his desk. “Ellie’s driving her home but if you go now I’m sure you could catch them both.”

Chasing was the last thing she would want to deal with and he knew that. He also knew that not chasing her meant not knowing where she was going to be tonight. It meant not knowing how the conversation with Leon went, although he had a pretty good idea. It meant not tucking her in on his couch and not having his ear talked off when she woke. It meant going back to only seeing her on weekdays and whatever nights she allowed him to be a part of.

“Boss?”

“Night Torres,” Gibbs said, tipping his head towards the younger agent’s desk before making his way to the elevator. He wasn’t going to chase her, but he was going to hope like hell she found her way back to him anyway.

- - -

There was a light tapping at his front door around 11:30 pm, somewhere between his second fireplace hot dog and his fourth beer. A louder second knock came, before the twist of a handle, and the stumbling of feet making their way into his front hall.

“Certainly not the ice cream store,” Jack muttered, turning to face Ellie, who had a light grip on Jack’s good arm.

“Thought I could do you one better,” Ellie said, smiling softly up as Gibbs as she essentially pushed Jack into his arm’s reach.

“Three glasses of wine,” she explained, moving to place Jack’s bag beside her feet. “You have fun with that. Call me if you need me.”

She was back out the door before Jack could turn to follow suit.

“Hi Jack,” he tried, a soft and unusually vulnerable smile forcing itself to meet her sharp expression.

“Talk in the morning,” she said as she pushed past his quiet offering and made herself at home on his couch.

He joined her where her legs would allow him to, which was about 2 centimetres from the edge on the left side. They sat in silence for what seemed like forever, her eyes never faltering from their focus on the fire.

“I’m going to work tomorrow,” she said, finally.

“I know.”

“You told me Leon was the reason I couldn’t work but it was you. You lied to me.” The reflection of a particularly large stroke of fire struck her eyes as she exhaled at the accusation and it smothered his skin with heat.

“I know.”

“I didn’t need protecting and we are gonna have a problem if you don’t start getting that Gunny.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She chuckled at his response and slouched down lower in the cushions. She continued to look at the fire, but this time with a little less force.

“I’m upset with you,” she admitted after a few minutes of more comfortable silence. It sounded almost childish, but he knew it was just the wine cutting her tone.

“I know.”

Suddenly she shifted her spot on the couch to face him. “You know what you don’t know?” It could have sounded vicious, but it didn’t. Her eyes were glowing in a softer light now. “Dancing makes me a little less upset.”

“Mhm,” he said, smirking at her suggestion. There was no way in hell-

But then he was standing and she was pulling him to the space between the fireplace and coffee table. She took both his hands in hers and placed them on her hips before curling her own around his neck. She took a deep breath in and let out an obnoxiously loud laugh as she finally made eye contact with him.

“Don’t look so confused,” she demanded. He used pressure from his hands to begin their sway back and forth and a huge smile spread on her face.

“You’re mad at me.” The uneasiness in his voice released another soft giggle from her.

“I know why you did it, Gibbs. Hard to stay mad for long.”

His goofy smile was about to make it’s long-awaited arrival when she added, “That and I can’t reach the coffee mugs at my house.”

Her smile tucked itself neatly under his neck and it tickled him red. The softness of the moment was melting his feet to the floor and he wondered if she was swimming in it too. Her blonde locks were tucked behind both of her ears and he so badly wanted to let them loose like the rest of her. She swayed effortlessly back and forth, her feet shuffling every so often so they could move around in the light of flames. She dropped one hand from his neck to link it to one of his hands. Raising it above her head, he spun her slowly before pulling her back to him. His lips were practically begging to be bridged with hers and she faulted for a moment before taking a step back.

“Thank you for the dance, Gibbs.” A small ceremonious curtsy followed.

“I’d take dancing over chasing any day, Jack.”

Chapter Text

The kitchen was light, which was unlike most mornings where the sunlight from the window couldn’t quite reach the counter where the coffee pot sat patiently. This morning the sun repeated its ritual of coating only the front hall furniture with its glimmering beams, but a new source of light radiated the rest of the house. Jack stood, her back up against the countertop, sipping coffee from the biggest mug he owned and scrolling through the news on her phone. Her head was tipped down to see the screen and he struggled to see the focused face she was most definitely making over the veil of curls that encompassed her. This morning she fashioned a matching mint green pantsuit and square white heels he hadn’t seen before.

“New shoes?”

Her head shot up from the thought spiral she was buried in. News, elections, shoe sales, a certain grey-haired marine who she shared a dance with last night… “Uh, kinda! Kate Spade. Got them in California two summers ago on sale. Struggled to find the right outfit for them...” Her voice trailed off as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

He shared a small chuckle but nothing more before grabbing the paper on the table and leaning back against the counter beside her. She pretended not to notice that he had intentionally chosen not to sit at the kitchen table, but her smile got the best of her. She shifted her hips to see him better.

“Morning, Cowboy,” she said cheerfully, taking a sip of her coffee and watching as he followed suit.

“Mornin’.”

The word was short, but there was no lack of sweetness or attentiveness behind it. He gazed down at her, all tall and strong and 7-in-the-morning-cute. She blushed ever so slightly before rescuing herself in the indulgence of her news app. He stayed beside her doing some reading of his own until the pot was empty.

“Ready to go?”

“I swear I can drive, I just need a lift to my place and-”

“Nope,” he said with his distinctly gruff, yet caring tone. Taking the empty mug from her hands and placing it in the sink, he walked over to the front door and scooped up her coat that had been abandoned on the floor the night before. Opening it up to help her into it, she simply stared back at him with a soft smile.

“Come on,” he said, lightly shaking the coat to encourage her to draw closer.

“Gibbs, you really don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll back off when you have one broken rib instead of three. Deal?”

She exhaled a laugh in attempted protest. “Deal.”

Lifting the coat snuggly over her shoulders, he squeezed them and opened the front door.

- - -

They were about five minutes away from the navy yard when she saw him. Stopped at a red light, her eye caught the face of a man waiting to cross the street. He had a white hoodie and black joggers on, and he was jogging in place while waiting to cross. At the turn of his head, where the sun illuminated a sharp jawline and a few strands of greasy black hair, she shot forward.

“Gibbs, it’s him.” She reached for the door handle as his arm shot across her body.

“Jack what are you talking about?” The angle was awkward but he had her pushed back against the seat under the weight of his arm within seconds.

“The guy at my house, he’s-” Her body was struggling and her fingers anxiously pointed at the man on the corner.

“He’s dead or he’s in custody Jack. There were two men and we got them both.” The light turned green but Gibbs didn’t move. Her breathing was rampant but it was slowing to the sound of his voice.

“R-right. I knew that I just-”

She took a deep breath and cut herself off before she could worry him any more than she already had. He drew back his arm as he began to drive through the intersection, but his hand landed inside of hers. She held it safely in her lap.

Once parked at the Navy Yard, she glanced up at him shyly.

“It won’t happen again,” she confessed softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“I need you to-”

“I won’t tell Vance,” he reassured, knowing all too well what was coming. Her eyebrow arched in question. “I owe you one.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking down at their hands still intertwined.

“I can give it back to you once I get out the truck,” she said sheepishly, noticing he was tightening his grip.

And she did. In the elevator up to the bullpen, she had his hand sweetly tucked into hers. As the elevator dinged, she looked down at their hands and then up at his careful eyes. Reaching up on her tippy toes, she placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I won’t tell Vance,” she said as she gave him a wink and took a step out in front of him.

Chapter Text

“Stay, stay, for the love of god never leave.” Ellie was practically falling over Jack’s desk at lunch.

“Honey, what?” Jack was deep into a case file, attempting to read over the notes from the integration she wasn’t allowed to do and make sense of Torres’ handwriting.

“Gibbs, it’s Gibbs,” she was practically exploding in her yellow knit sweater, “this whole living with you thing is doing good things for the team.”

Jack rolled her eyes before glancing back down at the file.

“Jack I’m serious,” Ellie said in a softer tone, catching Jack’s attention again, “he’s not down our throats, he bought Tim a coffee this morning, and Torres got in a dance break with only one glare.”

“Ellie,” Jack laughed, shaking her head, “I’ve been staying at his house for the duration of one whole night, where I showed up drunk and slept on his couch without him. I drank his coffee in the morning and ate his last egg. I really don’t think his mood has anything to do with me.”

Bishop waved off her explanation. “No this is familiar Jack. Like it’s the same energy as the mornings after you go to his house for drinks, but like it’s intensified and it’s lasting longer.”

“How do you know when I-”

“We all know when you go to his house, Jack. I’m telling you the energy in the bullpen is different.”
She was blushing now and Ellie was eating it up.

“Have a good lunch,” Ellie smirked, deciding to leave Jack with her thoughts, “and an even better night,” she added with a wink, making a run for the door. Lunging for a sucker, Jack attempted to throw it out the door after Ellie and failed dramatically.

“Ya throwing things, Sloane?” Gibbs' voice sent her about three inches off her chair.

“Jesus, Gibbs,” Sloane gasped, gripping the charm on her necklace.

She got a small chuckle in response. “Do the facts line up?” Gibbs questioned, getting right to the point as usual.

“Well, yes. Yes, they do. I would have liked some more details in the report…” Her voice alluded to the obvious.

“Yeah, I know, you could do it better. I didn’t let you do it better. Can I bring her in?”

“Yeah,” Sloane said with a smile, “I could have done it better.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes, scooping up the file from her desk. Before she could continue their banter his phone rang.

“Gibbs.”

There was a strong voice on the other end and his eyebrows furrowed instantly.

“Yep, I’ll be right up.”

“Case?” Jack said, standing up to the sound of his flip phone closing.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, his eyes darting around the room, “I gotta go.”

He faltered at her door and she eyed him intently.

“Not sure when I’ll get home, but there’s spaghetti in the fridge.”

“Yeah GIbbs, do you need-”
“And I’ll send someone to drive you home,” he added, jogging out of her office.

“Gibbs,” she hopelessly called out after him, “I’m all good, please don’t send anyone.”

After a few beats of silence, she slumped back down into her chair. She hated being the something broken that he needed to fix.

- - -

It was 7pm and she was honestly getting hopeful that he might actually let her cab home like a normal person. Closing her laptop softly, as if not to disturb the thoughts she was grasping to, a voice sliced through the room.

“Ma’am.” A male security detail stood at her door, probably 6ft 1 and certainly unsure of himself. “I’m here to take you home.”

She looked up at him with a smirk.

“I-uh, drive you home ma’am. I’m here to drive you to Special Agent Gibbs’ house.”

“Agent,” she said, standing and scanning for his name tag.

“Clark, ma’am,” he said, unclipping his badge from his belt.

“Yes well Agent Clark,” she said sweetly, “it’s not your job to drive me around and I promise I’ll take care of Special Agent Gibbs if he gets grumpy about that.”

“Unfortunately, the 6 pack of beer in my truck and the extremely stern order I received earlier today, both of which came from Special Agent Gibbs, requires me to get you through his front door before 7:30,” he said, quickly glancing down at his watch.

“Why do I know you're not going to leave here without me?”

“Because you know the wrath of Special Agent Gibbs, ma’am.”

She chuckled. “Okay, well we will only be referring to him as the pain in my ass for the duration of the car ride Agent Clark.”

He let out a small laugh too, before side-stepping the door and allowing her to walk on through.

- - -

There was something incredibly comforting about pulling into his driveway and seeing that the lamp through his front window was on and a certain blonde was curled up reading a book underneath it.

“Hi, in here,” she whispered once she heard him slip through the front door.

He gave a small smile before going to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“Want one?”

“Want to know about the kind of case that keeps you until 2am when Bishop texted me that she got off at midnight.” Her tone was warm with concern and his fingers lingered on the beer before deciding to leave it in the fridge.

“Ya tracking me?”

“Want to be tracking whoever you are.”

Against his best interest, Gibbs crossed the kitchen and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. With a sigh he said, “someone was lurking around your house this afternoon. Looks like someone related to the twins.”

“The guy at the stoplight!”

“Yeah, I had the same thought. We are trying to find him right now but there’s not much to hold him for. Your security cameras are shit.”

“Says you.”

He nodded with a smile. “And this time I wasn’t keeping it from you.”

“Leon?”

“Yep.”

“Speak of the devil,” he said, snapping his phone open.

A few words were exchanged before Gibbs stood up. “Uh yeah, and I told Jack.”

Switching on his speakerphone, she heard Leon loud and clear.

“No strong-heading, Sloane. Do you hear me? We find and follow this guy, we got nothing on him.”

“I know Leon,” she called out.

Snapping his phone shut, Gibbs pulled a blanket over her legs. “We’ll find him.” She tried to smile, but he could tell she was worried.

“Spaghetti good?”

“Yeah, yeah it was good. Thank you.”

He nodded before heading towards the front door.

“Hey,” she called out, “Agent Clark was quite the charmer, thank you.”

His eyes squinted at her sass.

“Would honestly love if you sent him again,” she teased.

“What ya say?”

“Oh you heard me, Cowboy. I’d take a ride from him any day.”

She stood up from the couch to meet his gruff face at the front doorway.

“I’ll make sure to send Bill from accounting next time.”

He got a sharp slap on the chest for that one.

“Where ya going?” she said, her hand lingering on his dress shirt once she realized he wasn’t headed upstairs but was clearly heading back out.

“Got security footage to look at Sloane.”

“Come on Gibbs, nothing is going to change before the sun rises. Sleep a little.”
She tugged lightly on his arm and his shoes practically slipped back off.

“2 hours.”

“Mhm,” she said, pulling him to the couch.