a/n: aww, jenny & gibbs, those cuties (no angst is wear to god)

She was feigning sleep when he got back to the hotel room, but it didn't matter because Ducky had already told him she'd been up waiting for him. He didn't bother her for a moment, giving himself time to take off his wet shirt and jeans—it was pouring rain outside—and grab a towel from the bathroom to dry off a little.

He came back out, leaving the ensuite bathroom door open, and rubbed the cotton over his hair vigorously.

"I know you're awake," he said gruffly.

She rolled over in bed, blinking at him, not a hint of sleep in her eyes.

"Bastard," she groused, resigned.

He grinned smugly.

"You lose a fight with the Seine?" she asked tartly.

"It's raining," he retorted.

He threw the towel into the bathroom and stepped back to hit the lights. She moved over in bed, laying right in his spot, and looked up at him as he stood there in his boxers. She reached out to touch the hem, running her fingers over the material.

"These are wet, too."

He gave her a look, and she tugged them off. He indicated with his hands that she should move back over. She complied, and he crawled into bed with her, groaning in exhausted relief when his head hit the pillow. Her hand crept up his arm under the sheets and she ran her palm across his chest, resting her head on her own arm.

"What gave me away?" she asked dryly.

He snorted.

"Ducky," he growled, taking her hand in his and lacing his fingers through it gently. "'I do believe your partner has been pacing around all night wondering on your whereabouts.'" Gibbs mocked Ducky's accent.

Jenny laughed, tilting her head back. Gibbs grinned, moving her hand higher on his chest.

"Hmm," Jenny murmured, defeated. "Ah, so Ducky was worried, too."

Gibbs scoffed.

"You were supposed to be back at midnight," Jenny said tensely, defending her unrest. "It's damn near three in the morning."

Gibbs shrugged as if it were nothing.

"Decker got held up," he muttered.

He shifted onto his side and threw an arm over her waist, pulling her closer. He smirked at her and his lips fell to her throat, kissing a teasing line down to her shoulder. She laughed and pushed her forehead against his shoulder.

"And what exactly does Ducky think you're doing in my hotel room?"

"Debriefing you."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Mmhmm," muttered Gibbs, pushing her onto her back. He slid one of his legs between hers, and she pulled her knee up a little.

"In that case, I believe I debriefed you," she whispered innocently. "I pulled your boxers off."

"S'not called de-boxer-ing," he drawled.

She smacked his shoulder.

"You're an idiot."

She felt him smirk again into her shoulder, and she smiled, running her hands over him.

"Don't stay up worryin' about me," he reprimanded, preoccupied with kissing her throat.

She stroked her fingers through his drying hair.

"You can't order someone not to worry, Jethro. It's an emotional response."

"You gettin' emotional over me, Jen? That'll be the day."

She kissed his jaw, her lips lingering for a moment.

"It's probably just indigestion," she quipped, teasing him.

He grinned and pulled her closer, finding it very unfair that under the sheets she had underwear on, and he was defenseless. She pressed herself against him, her hair getting in his mouth as she snuggled up.

He liked that she was worried.

yet another twist on the infamous "that'll be the day."
-alexandra
story# 142