Title: The Big Tease

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+ mild sexual references.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Lyrics belong to Paul Kelly and Johnny Mercer and are gratefully borrowed without permission.

Spoilers: "Bikini Wax", "Conspiracy Theory".

Summary: KIBBS. Unrequited Tate. Kate thinks Gibbs doesn't notice her. She's wrong.

A/N: For Marcela, who begged.

Part I

"Caught the fever, heard the tune,

Thought I loved her, hung my heart on the moon,

Started howling, made no sense,

Thought my friends would rush to my defense,

In the middle, in the middle, in the middle of a dream,

I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings, I've done all the dumb things,

And I get all your good advice,

It doesn't stop me from going through these things twice,

I see the knives out, I turn my back,

I hear the train coming, I stay right on that track,

In the middle, in the middle, in the middle of a dream,

I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings, I've done all the dumb things…."

-x-x-x-

He wasn't paying attention to her at all. Despite the fact she'd called his name twice, despite the fact he sat not two paces away from her, and despite the fact that he'd specifically and testily demanded her attendance tonight, Gibbs was completely ignoring her presence.

He'd known she had a date tonight too. He'd crept up on her again in her favorite coffeehouse, deliberately and gleefully interrupting her conversation with Billy who worked at the White House and who apparently had a weakness for hazelnut lattes and overworked brunettes. She knew Gibbs overheard her exchange numbers and make plans with the beaming blond. But she also knew better than to protest her lack of a decent love life when her boss had other plans for her. She'd learnt that lesson early on in her career at NCIS. Matters of the heart were simply not a priority.

Kate sighed and stripped off the jacket of her pinstriped black suit. She'd been wearing the thing all day, even though it was a little too warm outside. It was only the second time she'd worn the ensemble which after thirteen hours no longer felt new, only crumpled and humid.

The first time she'd worn it however, Gibbs had actually commented on it. He hadn't complimented her as such. But as they were crossing a busy parking lot after questioning a suspect, he'd run a narrow, circumspect gaze over her form, scrutinizing the new addition to her wardrobe.

"New suit?" he'd grunted non-commitally.

"Yeah," she'd replied, surprised and pleased by his regard.

Gibbs cast her another sidelong glance, squinting in the sunlight: "Suits you."

It hadn't been meant as praise – merely an observation, and somehow Kate had the uneasy feeling that by examining her choice of clothes and how they fit her, her boss was in some way dissecting her deeper character.

She'd received no further feedback on the outfit today though, not that she'd truly expected any. She knew her boss well enough to know that he only paid attention to whatever he deemed worthy. And having noticed the suit once, he was unlikely to now give it a second glance.

She'd really only reached for it this morning because she'd had a particularly unsettling, particularly precise and particularly erotic dream about a certain Silver-Haired Fox the previous night. She'd woken, mid-dream, sweaty and startled by the unruly imagery. She'd quickly attempted to divert her racing mind to White House Billy instead. She tried desperately to replace Gibbs' eyes and body and touch with those of George Clooney, Johnny Depp, or even the guy who lived on the third floor with the cute hair and the cuter girlfriend.

But her mind -- at least subconsciously -- was made up. Jethro Gibbs it was, last night -- and Jethro Gibbs it had been nearly every night since that damn airplane had dropped out of the Wichita skyline, forever altering the path of her 'til then well-planned life and career.

The shaky, weary reflection in rumpled pajamas that greeted her that morning, slumped in front of the mirror, half-asleep and horny had needed the implacable protection of a suit to face the day ahead. Just slipping into the ensemble had made her feel taller, stronger, prettier – and much more equipped to face her walking, talking, glowering, growling fantasy once again.

Kate cleared her throat, tilting her head to each side and hearing her stiff neck crackle in reply. She was having trouble concentrating on the travel records on her computer screen – records she knew were not especially pressing, despite Gibbs' insistence.

She glanced across at him crossly. She could tell he was not working very hard either. She should've been on her date with Billy. So what if she was looking forward to the chance to sit in a comfy seat and guzzle popcorn far more than she was anticipating conducting an actual conversation with her escort? At least a good Romcom would've distracted her mind from what it had been obsessing over, day and night of late.

"Gibbs?" she called for the third time, hoping he would allow her to get out of her chair, out of the damn office, out of his sight. Her stomach grumbled in agreement, not even caring if he insisted on their usual Chinese cuisine.

Gibbs didn't budge from his slumped posture, his face maintaining its distant, absorbed expression. His big hand clenched rhythmically about the little ball he gripped, his fingertips digging into its rubbery surface.

She raised her eyebrows. "Gibbs?!" she huffed again.

"Hmm?" he answered absently, still not tearing his eyes from the screen of his computer. Whatever was on it had had him fascinated for a solid, silent twenty-minute period.

Kate jolted from her chair, bored and annoyed: "What is it that you--?"

She began to march around his desk but Gibbs preempted her irritated intrusion by angling his monitor towards her, revealing what he'd been studying so intently and stopping Kate in her tracks.

"Explain this," he remarked calmly, one eyebrow raised.

Kate stared, stunned at the image of her younger self, indecently clad, soaking wet and titillatingly displayed. "I shouldn't have to!" she spluttered crossly.

Without thinking, she lurched forward, her body stretching across his desk and her hand reaching for the mouse. Gibbs' own hand shot out, easily deterring her as brown, spindly fingers curled about her wrist.

She looked up to meet his cool blue gaze and found her mouth explaining before she could stop it. "I was young," she muttered, her voice weak and indignant.

She saw her boss' eyes drift again to the computer screen, briefly re-tracing her half-naked figure. "I can see that," he commented lazily.

"And very drunk," she added hotly, willing herself to stop explaining and to, for Heaven's sake, STOP being so aroused by her boss' all too apparent interest in her exposure.

Gibbs bobbed his head at the crystal clear image. "That too," he drawled thoughtfully.

She yanked her wrist free and straightened. She knew she owed him no justification for this degrading scrap of ancient history. If anyone had crossed the line, it was DiNozzo – and him, as her boss. She closed her eyes briefly, realizing that Gibbs must have had that horrible, humiliating picture on his computer for weeks. That he'd been staring at it – at her! -- without her knowledge or consent, while she sat not two steps away.

What fired her ire more was that she really couldn't summon up the proper amount of indignation to outweigh her intense curiosity over what her boss had seen when he looked at her in that way. Her face flushed with color and fiery eyes opened to confront him. Turning on her heel, she continued on her path around his desk, her posture stiff and agitated.

"DiNozzo had no right--!" she muttered under her breath. Her course however was blocked by the lounging figure behind the desk, heavy, immovable and all too indifferent to her outrage. "Gibbs!" she shrieked in exasperation: "Stop staring at it!"

"I can't," he shrugged, cocking his head to one side.

"This is not funny," she informed him stalwartly, pushing past him and placing herself between him and the offending image.

Gibbs' amused gaze climbed up to her face. "Come on, Kate," he chuckled, scooting back in his chair: "We all do dumb things when we're young."

Kate bowed her head and glanced sullenly to one side, in no way appeased by his glib dismissal or obvious nonchalance. She thought she'd left behind this incarnation of Kate Todd. She thought she'd said her final goodbye to the Kate Todd who unwittingly said or did the wrong thing only to regret it later; the Kate Todd who always seemed to run into trouble just when she was trying to evade it; the Kate Todd who had a secret impulsive streak a mile long. A reckless, passionate, brave streak that at times she'd found difficult to control.

That side of her personality only emerged in small ways now, in carefully controlled doses. She'd become accustomed to keeping it under wraps. And she did not appreciate Anthony DiNozzo resurrecting the ghost of her wild alter ego, shattering her scrupulously constructed image and parading her worst indiscretion before the one control freak whose passion and worst impulses were even more tightly hidden than her own, and whose good opinion had become her holy grail.

She dropped her head into her hand. "I'll never live this down," she moaned softly to herself.

"There are worst things," Gibbs commented quietly.

Kate looked up, her expression scathing: "Such as?"

He leaned forward, snaking a hand around her waist and grabbing the mouse. "That, for one," he pointed out, clicking onto the image of Cowboy Tony and his leather-clad companion.

She turned to look at the picture, then slowly turned back as Gibbs sank back into the comfort of his chair, looking up at her with knowing eyes. She gulped, regretting the level she'd stooped to in order to protect her dignity – only to fail anyway.

"It was self-defense," she muttered weakly after a moment. "It's not real," she admitted to the carpet beneath her bare feet.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied lowly: "Figured that much."

Kate sighed: "Abby made it for me," she continued, her wrath briefly resurfacing: "but he was blackmailing me with that-- that… thing!" she waved a hand at the computer, her tone dropping from indignant to ashamed: "and I… didn't want anyone else to see it." She met his blue gaze, still watching her closely with no apparent sympathy or outrage.

"Too late," he remarked shortly.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest: "Gibbs," she murmured, leaning in conspiratorially: "he is driving me crazy. Can't you talk to him?"

Gibbs shifted in his chair and looked away: "Tony's harmless," he told her lightly, then stabbed a finger at her: "You've got to give him a break."

Kate raised incredulous eyebrows at him: "I've got to give him a break?" she repeated in disbelief. "I'll give him a break," she muttered under her breath, moving to leave her boss' cubicle: "I'll break his arm--"

A sturdy leg came up in front of her, a black boot planted firmly on the edge of the desk as Gibbs blocked her escape. Kate turned in surprise, looking down at his glinting eyes and wrinkled brow with a question in her gaze.

"Go easy on him," he ordered in a gruff, low tone.

"Why should I?" she demanded, her voice becoming slightly shrill, even to her own ears. She'd already had to infiltrate the infamous boy's club once in her short career, and she had no intention of letting DiNozzo's continuing attempts at hazing her go unchallenged or unchecked.

Her boss scooted back in his chair, his leg grazing her hip as he readjusted his foot on the desk. "Kate," he began thoughtfully: "remember when you were little, those boys who pulled your pigtails and chased you round the sandbox?"

"Yeah," she responded warily: "I hated them."

Gibbs chuffed slightly, his mouth turning up in one corner: "They liked you," he countered, rubbing the stubble on his chin and peering up at her from beneath bushy brows. "That's why they did it," he added: "to get your attention."

She furrowed her brow at him: "Your point being?"

He sighed heavily, apparently annoyed that she did not understand his metaphor. "Tony," he told her, slow and clear: "he's still….stuck in the sandbox."

Kate couldn't help a small, bemused smile: "So…" she shook her head, her gaze wandering away from her boss and his far too comfortable, far too close body: "you're saying…I should go easy on Tony…" she tipped her head at him dubiously: "because he has some immature crush?"

"No," he replied, getting to his feet and standing over her. "I'm saying," he murmured, his voice quiet and deliberate: "go easy on him, Kate…'cause he loves you."

Gibbs turned and walked away, heading for the bookshelf behind her desk. Kate's face froze and she blinked in astonishment as a sudden silence spread through the air. Pulling a thick volume from her carefully alphabetized books, he began flipping through it as she turned to look at him, not quite knowing what to say.

"Tony?" she questioned after a long moment.

"Uh hm," Gibbs nodded, not looking over at her.

Kate huffed, her expression fixed in disbelief: "Anthony DiNozzo?" she clarified skeptically.

Gibbs looked up at her momentarily but didn't say another word.

"Are we speaking about the same man?" she asked dubiously, her mind skipping back over the years that her admittedly lovable but distinctly troublesome colleague had made it his life's sole purpose to irritate, humiliate and torment her.

"Agent Todd," Gibbs announced, his tone deliberately extending the distance between them, despite their off-the-record discussion: "you might have noticed that some men-- most men," he admitted grudgingly, continuing to search her book: "have trouble expressing--" he paused, clenching his jaw.

"Feelings?" she guessed dryly.

Gibbs looked up briefly, pointing at her: "Yeah, them," he agreed glibly. "And incidentally," he noted, snapping the book closed and heading back to his desk: "some women aren't too good at picking up on them."

Kate dropped her gaze to the floor. She was well aware that she didn't have that special talent with men that some women seemed to possess. Perhaps it was growing up with three overbearing brothers or a high-achievement junkie for a father. She was still far more inclined to view the male of the species as competition, than as compeer. And, in some small way, she was still living up to the childhood conditioning she'd received which trained her to believe that the strongest contestant made war -- not love.

"What you don't seem to realize," Gibbs continued in a dry drawl, appearing beside her at his desk: "is that you're the type of woman that drives men like Tony nuts." He dropped her book onto his desk, scanning its surface with quizzical eyes. "You've been doing it for years," he added, glancing across at her, still leaning back on his desk and still stunned by their conversation.

Her hands gripped the edge of the desk as their eyes met. Gibbs' gaze roved over her features for the briefest of moments and she felt a shiver race down her spine and her breath catch in her throat.

"Only person who doesn't know it," he finished softly, breaking eye contact with her at the last moment: "is you."

Kate sighed deeply, wandering away from his desk. She stopped though, staring at Tony's corner of their area and rounding on him. "Has he said something to you?" she asked suddenly.

"No," Gibbs told her, seating himself again and propping his glasses on his nose: "Just my gut."

"Well…" she wagged her head at the floor: "I hope you're wrong..." she murmured quietly, knowing that the chances of it were slim to none: "because…..'cause I--"

"You don't feel the same," Gibbs finished for her, with a slightly sinking undertone.

She began to pace back and forth, brushing her fingers along the edge of Tony's desk: "Not for him, no," she whispered ruefully.

Gibbs pulled the book he'd stolen towards him and opened it again. "Then there's not much you can do," he shrugged sadly.

Kate was silent for a moment deep in thought, her eyes running slowly over the workstation of her mischievous colleague. The desktop was peppered with crumbs from the lunch he'd stolen from her. A figurine of the Pink Panther which he'd scored at a fast food joint was stuck on top of his computer monitor with blutack and behind his desk, the shelves were over-flowing with irregularly stacked books and unfiled folders.

She turned back to her boss, entrenched in his order and his work, his face stark and intractable in the dim lamplight. His fingers leafed delicately through her book, his brow creased in concentration, despite the glaring and crude image of DiNozzo still up on his screen.

"What would you do?" she asked finally, clearing her throat and biting her lip: "In my situation, I mean." She leant back on DiNozzo's desk, casting her gaze out the darkened window as she spoke.

"If you knew someone you worked with closely…" she took a breath, her voice fading a little: "you knew they felt--" She broke off completely, letting the sentence drop unfinished at her feet.

The silence had become deafening and hugely uncomfortable. She shifted on her feet, feeling Gibbs' shrewd stare on her pensive profile.

"Feelings fade," he croaked eventually, sounding much farther away. "Tony--" he paused, his tone stiff and short: "and you – you're young. You'll--"

Kate glanced over at him, their eyes meeting and locking together. "Get over it?" she finished edgily, one eyebrow arched sharply in his direction.

Her boss had the grace to look ever so slightly chagrined but he didn't shirk her intense gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him, once more studying the creases and curves that made up his well-known face, but which never yielded her the answers she'd been searching for for long years.

There was something elusive about Jethro Gibbs that she'd always failed to pinpoint, something infuriating about him that she'd always found necessary to challenge. She'd never met a man so brave and so terrified at the same time. She'd never met a man with so much to give, yet so unwilling to offer it.

Those endless strings of redheads she kept hearing about with mild curiosity and jealousy must have done a real number on his head. Not to mention the man's heart, which -- despite all she'd heard to the contrary-- she still felt confident did exist.

"Were you always so--?" she broke off, not realizing she'd spoken her curiosity aloud. She knit her brow, still studying him intently and still attempting to digest the staggering flippancy with which he'd delivered his latest piece of romantic advice.

Gibbs raised his head slowly from his work, carefully removing his glasses. She knew he was deciding whether to dignify her unfinished question with a true response or merely a sharp dismissal.

"Actually," he began carefully, leaning back in his chair: "I used to be a lot like Tony."

Kate raised an eyebrow and waited for him to explain.

"Cocky," he murmured after a pause, a wry smirk beginning to play about his lips: "Persistent. Oblivious." He tipped his head to one side, adding smugly: "Irresistibly charming."

The smirk blossomed into a full-blown grin and Kate couldn't help the effect it had on her. She wasn't particularly happy with him tonight but she found herself answering him with a reluctant smile anyway. And for the millionth time since she'd met him, she understood why so many women fell for this man. She knew why, probably despite their better judgement, so many married him; why so many forgave Jethro Gibbs all his obvious faults. And why she, a supposedly enlightened, modern woman of sense and reason did not condemn them for it.

She envied them.

Kate swung one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee and peering down her nose at him. "Oh yeah?" she countered skeptically, tamping down her reaction to his minor flirtation so it didn't show. Much.

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice low and gravelly. His eyes gave her a brief but distinct once over, taking in her crossed legs, her bare feet, her pinstriped skirt and rumpled white shirt. "You would've driven me nuts too," he added, almost as an after-thought, almost to himself.

Kate swallowed, averting her eyes just as she felt her boss' gaze return to her face. "Would've?" she questioned after a moment, cursing her voice for sounding so breathy.

She flicked her eyes up again to connect with his. They glowed at her from across the bullpen, steadfast and magnetic and utterly unreadable. He rocked back in his chair, apparently fully at ease with the silence and the tension that stretched between them.

"So maybe I haven't matured that much," he admitted finally, when she was just about to break the silence herself with a retraction.

She blinked at him, unable to tell where the joke ended and where the truth began. While his innuendo was undoubtedly exciting, she was starting to crave a straight answer from him. She was starting to wonder what it took to get the truth from this man. She tore her eyes from his, taking a deep breath and grasping mentally for the strands of their conversation while her heart tried to discern the staggering subtext.

"You're still cocky," she confirmed, her voice slightly shaky, slightly accusatory: "Still oblivious," she rolled her eyes, refolding her arms: "and persistent would be a major understatement."

"Charming?" Gibbs prompted, lounging in his chair and flashing her a deliberately devastating grin.

Kate looked over at him again, her expression rueful but amused. "Without even trying," she admitted with a sly smile.

Gibbs ducked his head and chuckled in response, entirely unaware of the tingles that the deep, throaty sound sent down her defenseless spine. The little rush gave her the impetus to continue along the strange path they'd stumbled onto that night.

"Sometimes, I--" she stopped, then tried again, her tone uncertain and pensive: "Sometimes, I wish I'd met you when you were young."

"Young?" Gibbs repeated edgily.

"Younger," she amended in response to his affronted expression. She smiled slightly, giving a little shrug: "I wonder whether we-- whether you--"

Whether you might have seen me differently, her mind wondered. Whether you were always so afraid, she wanted to ask, whether a younger Jethro Gibbs might have been easier to know, easier to understand. Easier to love.

The musings were not new to her brain but her tongue had never tasted them before. They felt strange and sweet and inept dripping hesitantly from her lips yet unable to be properly or fully expelled. But as she met Gibbs' eyes, she realized she didn't need to complete each sentence. He'd read her expression, her eyes. He'd heard every thought as though she'd blurted her heart's desire out in explicit detail.

"Well…." he breathed after another long pause. His eyes dropped again over her figure, tracing the curves she wished he hadn't (thanks to her sandbox-bound coworker) been privy to in such detail. Not in that way anyhow.

"That would've been illegal, Katie," he murmured sinfully, his eyes returning to hers with a buried twinkle.

She held his gaze, not hiding her curiosity. If she thought about it -- as she had, more than just once -- when Gibbs was her age now, she would still have been wearing a pleated skirt and braces on her teeth. She would've been busy trying to will her freckles to fade, trying to lighten her hair with lemon juice and persuade her mother to let her wear a bikini. Her young life consisted of learning cheerleading routines, studying trigonometry, safeguarding her diary from her quarrelsome brothers and her virginity from her quarterback boyfriend. While she was studying for finals, Gibbs was probably a married man and by the time she was attempting to pursue a career in law, he had already been to war and back.

Even at that age, at that time, she doubted she would've liked him as well as she did now. Then, she would've dismissed Jethro Gibbs as too dry, too reserved, too regimented. The young woman who acted so rebelliously on Spring Break would never have seen the quality beneath the construct, the passion behind his drive.

Still, she had always held the image in her head, of a younger Jethro Gibbs with floppy hair and an easy smile -- a man without the staunch defenses of the older version. And yet, she knew that his defensiveness somehow drew her also. It made her suspect that there was still something deep and precious worth protecting -- that despite all he'd been through, there was still something left of his heart.

Kate shook herself and stepped forward, feeling Gibbs examining her every move, her every look and breath. She would never be comfortable with his scrutiny but she was, at least, by now, accustomed to it. When she meet his eyes, she saw they now held the inscrutable glint with which he'd been contemplating the photo of her earlier. She didn't know what the look meant -- but she knew how it made her feel.

She stepped closer, sticking out her chin as she finally answered his last gravelly-voiced innuendo. "And now?" she asked quietly.

It was all mere speculation after all. Gibbs was not a floppy-haired lothario. And she was definitely no longer an innocent schoolgirl. Gibbs was Gibbs -- complete with a host of neuroses, shortcomings and mysteries. And she'd met him at the ideal time for her heart to fall in love with all of them -- with all of him.

Gibbs drew in a breath and spread his palms on his desk. "I think you know my policy on that sort of thing," he murmured warily.

Kate bit her lip, watching him flex his big hands. "And there's never an exception to the rule?" she persisted gently.

One hand plucked up his glasses from amongst the paperwork and repositioned them on his nose. "Usually," he admitted, with a downward quirk of his lips.

Kate waited for him to expand on his last comment, but it was clear that the subject died on his last ambiguous word. Another uneasy silence settled, only interrupted by the whirling of their computers and the passing cars outside.

Kate let out a breath and wandered towards the plasma screen that flanked Gibbs' workstation. Still up on the screen where mug shots of two of the dumbest characters they'd ever had the misfortune to pursue. Their antics made her Spring Break rebellion seem inconsequential in comparison.

"So, what do you think," she mused, her voice somewhat absent as she studied the two adolescents: "the age limit is for doing dumb things?"

As mortified as she was to have that horrid picture resurface at work, she must admit, those few rare days of havoc still contained some of the best times of her life. She still can't believe half the mischief she, Lauren, Belinda and Josie got up to – and she was hardly an innocent bystander. She wondered vaguely whether she was still capable of that sort of unfettered freedom, that blind enthusiasm and thoughtless fun.

"I dunno," Gibbs muttered vaguely from behind her: "I'm still doing 'em."

"I find that hard to believe," she mused, turning to face him. "What was the last dumb thing you ever did, and don't say--" she tilted her head and held up a finger in warning: "this conversation."

Gibbs spread his palms in innocence: "I wasn't gonna."

"So…?" she prompted resolutely.

Gibbs smirked: "You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

She nodded at his computer: "I thought I already did," she pointed out.

Gibbs raised his brows at her, his hand moving to cover the mouse. Kate gave him a warning look, which he ignored, clicking on the offending file and bringing up the memory in full color.

"Gibbs!" she strode towards him in desperate anger.

"This?" he questioned, unmoved.

"Gibbs--" she rushed behind his desk, leaning across him and snatching the mouse.

He didn't try to stop her hitting the delete button at the top of the screen and sending the image to the trash with a definitive flourish. Now, she thought, if she could only erase it as easily from his brain.

"That's the last dumb thing you ever did?" he murmured quietly, his voice right by her ear, his breath brushing her cheek.

Kate started, turning to look at him only to realize how close she'd come to him. Her body was bent over his lap, her arms had slipped through his and her face was on level with her boss'. She gulped and straightened slowly.

"Well," she breathed, turning away: "…maybe the second last."

After all, progressively but irrevocably falling for a man who was 18 years her senior, her superior at work, who had an iron-clad rule about romantic relationships with colleagues and, from his track record, read women about as well as she did men, was not the smartest thing she'd ever done in her life.

But she'd done it anyway. She didn't know when, she didn't quite know how – but it was done. And, she was pretty sure, they both knew it.

"So, update me," Gibbs prompted to her retreating back.

She sighed, silent for a moment. "Do I really need to say it aloud?" she mumbled, not turning to look at him until the words were out of her mouth and circling the atmosphere between them.

She met his gaze, feeling the sudden vulnerability flowing from her every pore. Her boss was such an expert at reading human behavior; she couldn't kid herself that he didn't at least suspect. But then maybe one of his agents being head over heels in love with him was just one of those unimportant issues which simply didn't garner his notice.

After all, it was not like there was a shortage of women in his life. She was sure he wasn't even seeking a relationship and women still fell all over themselves to get the attention of her boss. She saw it all the time in their work. And she also saw with what little regard and interest he dismissed each one. She had no reason to expect he would grant her more – especially considering the multiple warnings he'd given her regarding office-based romances.

She shook her head at the floor, attempting to dislodge the familiar train of thought and a furtive tear in one corner of her eye. She leant back on McGee's desk, meeting his gaze again without attempting to conceal the truth of what she was feeling. There didn't seem to be much point.

She almost wished for his wrath, for some kind of conclusive confrontation. Part of her waited for a reprimand, for the inevitable confirmation that all that existed between them was her own lust-addled, weak-willed, wishful-thinking daydreams.

If he would just say something to put her in her place; do something to make her hate him. Then maybe, she could get on with the business of finally getting over him, as he'd said. Maybe then she could come to terms with the fact that Jethro Gibbs was never meant for her, however her heart might disagree.

But Gibbs' eyes were strangely gentle, strangely guileless, and strangely curious. She didn't sense a reprimand in their intensity. She didn't see the usual defensiveness, the usual disapproval. His jaw clenched repeatedly as he studied her, his chest falling heavily beneath his shirt. Eventually, he spoke, in a hoarse but controlled tone.

"Do I?" he countered quietly, his gaze clear and steady.

Kate frowned and tipped her head to one side. Her head was swirling, her cheeks burning. Nothing he said to her right now was going to make complete sense in the state she was fast sinking into – and his unexpected tone and attitude only served to confuse her further.

"Did it ever occur to you," Gibbs continued slowly, his voice strained as it reached across the space towards her incredulous ears: "how hard it's been for me?" He drew in a breath, his jaw tightening as he held her gaze: "Workin' with you all this time…" his eyes narrowed and his voice bit: "…tryin' to keep my damn hands off of you, Caitlin Todd?"

Kate blinked at him, her eyes wide and wet, her heart and mind both racing. Her mouth opened on a soundless expression of surprise and her knees began to inexplicably shake with the strain of holding her frame upright. She watched Gibbs rise from his chair and square his shoulders, his movements slow, his eyes never leaving her astonished face.

"Did it?" he rumbled in response to her continuing silence.

Kate shook her head dumbly. "Uh-uh," she managed to croak.

Gibbs released a breath and shifted on his feet, his mouth turning up in a secret smile. She waited to see whether he would step out from behind his desk, lessen the distance separating them. He didn't. He just stood there, studying her as though she was his own personal and private pin-up girl.

The scrutiny he'd previously applied to her dripping image became nothing compared to the open appreciation with which his eyes now devoured her face and form despite the gulf that separated them. She'd never felt so exposed in her life. So drunken, so disorderly. So utterly lost in one dizzying, amazing moment. She'd never felt her heart thump so hard or her face burn with comprehension and emotion and excitement. She'd never seen her boss' eyes quite so blue, his face so open. She could see his lust, his affection, his frustration, his indecision, his passion – everything he usually hid so well.

While she'd always suspected that beneath his cool and controlled exterior beat a big and brazen heart, it had never occurred to Kate that it might beat for her, it might long for her. Or that what her boss was keeping under such tight control all these years was exactly what she'd dreamt he would someday release -- on her.

And now he had. And she had no idea what to do with herself, how to construct a meaningful sentence, how to get him into her arms, and quickly. She wanted to tell him that any time he wanted to stop keeping his hands off her, she was open to altering that situation. But before either of them could say another word or make a move closer, a boisterous voice penetrated the possibility blooming about them.

"Well, after three fun-filled hours," huffed DiNozzo, heading for his desk and throwing his jacket to the floor: "I am done bagging the evidence from both apartments," he opened a draw and slammed it again, tucking his wallet into his back pocket: "and I am seriously ready for some tucker."

"When are you not?" muttered Gibbs, taking his seat and replacing his glasses once more.

Tony continued on, utterly unaware. "Kate, you up for Chinese?" he asked, approaching the silent and stationary agent.

"Huh?" she responded weakly.

"Food, Kate. Dinner," he prompted impatiently: "Let's go. I'm starved."

"Er…" she glanced at Gibbs, her voice wavering slightly: "I think Gibbs wants me -- needs me here. I think--"

Gibbs looked up, his face blank and the reflection of the lamp on his glasses hiding his eyes: "You can go."

"The travel records--" she started the say, pointing towards her desk: "I thought you wanted--"

Gibbs glanced at her desk, heaped with files. "They can wait," he shrugged mildly, then turned back to his work: "Go on. Get outta here. Both of you."

Kate bit her lip, hesitating momentarily as the disappointment welled in her chest. "Fine," she sighed under her breath, stepping towards her desk and beginning to collect her things.

Tony followed, fidgeting with his tie as he watched her and waited. "You okay?" he asked after a minute.

"I'm fine," she replied, quickly and defensively.

"You sure?" he persisted, with a quizzical expression, pointing out: "Your face is all flushed.""She finds you irresistible in leather," Gibbs muttered lowly from his desk.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kate interjected sharply: "Ignore him."

Tony's brow scrunched for a moment, then he seemed to dismiss the exchange. "Wanna join us, Boss? It's Yum Cha night tonight," he grinned, rubbing his palms together.

Gibbs looked up, glancing past DiNozzo to Kate who stood behind her desk, her face and posture still reflecting the aftereffects of their revealing intercourse. He narrowed his eyes, watching as she donned her pinstriped jacket and fed the buttons into the holes, not once shunning his unwavering gaze.

"Not hungry," Gibbs finally grumbled, lowering his head and dismissing the two from his sight: "See you in the morning."

Kate stepped around Tony, leading the way to the elevator. "Let's go," she sniffed quietly.

"What's the matter with Gibbs?" Tony hissed in her ear as he followed.

"What do you mean?" she replied dully.

"He's pissed about something," he muttered, glancing behind them at the bent back of their boss: "Wad you do?"

"Nothing!" Kate shook her head, punching the button for the elevator: "Leave it alone, DiNozzo."

"Hey, Boss!" Tony whirled around, calling back across the deserted squad room: "We'll bring you back some soup!"

"Not hungry, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled again without raising his head or his voice.

"You like their soup!" Tony insisted, his face lit up like a little boys': "We'll get you some soup!"

"Tony--!" Kate mumbled, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him onto the elevator.

Gibbs half-smiled, half-grimaced as he listened to the last of his subordinates' squabble. He knew that even if Tony remembered to order the soup for him, it would never survive the short journey back to the office untasted or untouched.

"He doesn't want soup," Kate hissed at her colleague.

"He always wants soup," Tony protested as the doors began to swish together.

"He wants to be alone," Kate answered firmly, her disappointed words punctuated by the dull thud of the elevator doors closing shut.

Gibbs blinked and looked up from his work.

He wants to be alone.

He took off his glasses. He wants to be alone. He leant back in his chair and released a breath. He wants… to be alone…?

The empty silence stung his ears. He pushed two fingers into the corners of his eyes, screwing them shut and seeing a face float before his eyes, full of hope and desire and uncertainty and honesty.

And he'd just let her go. He'd let her walk out the door with another man.

He opened his eyes.

What a colossally dumb thing to do.

TBC...