Author's Note: I'm baaaaaaaack! I know I've been away for a while *hides under a pillow*, and I really don't have an excuse. But! There's a multi-chapter in the works that'll be out as soon as I've completely finished writing it. Until it is complete, I give you this! This bit of fluff slapped me in the face and woke me up from sleeping like a rock way too early for my liking... but that's not the point. Thanks again goes out to pockethuman for beta reading this! And thanks to all of you who've followed, favorited, or reviewed any of my previous stories!

Side note: This story takes place after Judgment Day... but Jenny survives! Yay!

Disclaimer: Ha. Ha. Ha... if I owned NCIS, this would've been on the show, therefore, I don't own it.

Happy Reading!

He never called her Sweetheart.

Darling.

Precious.

Sweet Cheeks (although Ziva seemed to like that one).

Honey.

Pumpkin (her hair may have been copper but that's no excuse to call her a squash).

Babe.

Sugar Lips (she would've punched him if he'd ever even tried calling her that).

Dear.

Baby Doll (definitely keelhauled).

Angel.

Sweetie (maimed or seriously injured had he even thought about it).

Or Love.

To him, she was always just that little three-letter nickname he'd given her as a probie on his team.

Jen.

It's not that she minded, in fact, she found it special. "Jen" was a term of endearment coming from him and he was the only one she allowed to call her that.

At first, it annoyed the hell out of her. She hated "Jennifer", she felt as though she were being reprimanded by her father, and "Jen" was just unacceptable so "Jenny" was the happy medium. But did Jethro comply? Of course not. Over time, however, she began to grow fond of it (only if he called her that though, she'd thrown a stapler at Burley when he'd tried it).

She wasn't quite sure why, but she had grown rather attached to the little nickname. Although it wasn't just the name, it was the way he said it. And he said it in so many different ways...

The first time he called her "Jen" it was a slip of the tongue. It happened so quickly that she thought she'd misheard him. However, the surprised look on his face told her otherwise.

The second time it happened, he said it with a teasing smirk from across the bullpen. He knew it bugged her and the glare she sent him, almost as intimidating as his own, indicated such. He hadn't seen the rubber band coming...

Then there were the times that he said it out of anger. Mostly when she went against his wishes or put herself in danger. His eyes would turn a stormy navy and flash dangerously. His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened, her name coming out of his mouth in a low growl or a bark, depending on whether or not he was trying to keep quiet. It was at those times where she wasn't sure if she should fight with him or pull him closer.

When he said it out of fear, it broke her heart. It happened more often than most thought, given that the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs wasn't afraid of much. But she'd heard it. The first time was after she'd taken a bullet to the thigh during their op in the Czech Republic. He'd screamed her name and killed the man who shot her with a bullet between the eyes before running towards her. She doesn't remember much after that, only that it was raining and he wrapped his coat around her before holding her close. He whispered a series of words in repetition as if they were a prayer. "I love you, Jen. Don't you dare leave me now."

It was the first time he told her he loved her.

Then the nightmares came. He'd cry out for his first wife and daughter before seeing her and holding her in a vice-like grip. She'd let the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing calm him as she gently ran her fingers through his sweaty, gray hair. The terrors never disappeared, only changed over time from his deceased family to her. After her kidnapping during her first year as director and her near run-in with death in the California desert, he held her tighter than before, murmuring her name over and over again and reassuring himself that she was okay.

She loved it when he said her nickname when he was happy. As a probie, it had been a small smile, a ruffle of her hair, and a "good work, Jen". He hardly ever laughed but when he did, she couldn't help but laugh too. The affectionate little name would spill over his lips and she felt like she'd done something right.

The way he said it when, well... she didn't quite know how to describe it exactly. It was in those secret moments at work, especially after a rough op in MTAC, when he'd pull her aside out of view from the others. He'd mumble her name as he peppered kisses in her hair, holding her close and running his hands comfortingly along her back. His voice was soothing, full of warmth and security, and caused her knees to weaken considerably. She never felt safer.

Her favorite, however, was-

"'Morning, Jen."

Right after he woke up. His voice was still laced with sleep, rough, and slightly deeper than normal. It sent pleasant chills down her spine and practically turned her into a puddle.

She felt him place a warm kiss behind her ear and pull her closer to him, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist and her back pressed snugly to his front. She stared down at the thin wedding band on her finger, twisting it with her thumb and feeling the familiar engraving in cursive script: Jen and Jethro - 1999. They'd never needed pet names or other terms of endearment to prove that they loved each other. "Jen" and "Jethro" were just fine. Her lips quirked upward in a content smile as she laced her fingers with his.

"Not sure I ever told you, but I love it that you call me "Jen"."

She felt him smirk into her hair before turning her slightly and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, making her breathless.

"I know."

For him, she would always be just "Jen".

But she was his.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

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