a/n: what to do when you have cold feet? leroy jethro gibbs has a solution.

January, 2001

She arrived home from work incredibly late—she had been needed to stay and work with a female victim who clammed up around the men. She quietly laid her things on the counter, assuming Gibbs was in the basement, and made her way to the nursery to check on the baby—she knew he'd be fast asleep, but she wanted to press a kiss to his forehead and say goodnight.

She discovered, to her dismay, that her baby was not asleep in his crib—and when she stormed down the hall and to the top of the basement stairs, she found the basement empty as well—and immediately went from annoyed to worried.

She went down the hall to the master bedroom and peeked in warily, apprehensive about what she would find. She was still adjusting to co-parenting; she hadn't been home from Europe for very long, and even though she knew Gibbs was experienced in childcare, it still made her slightly nervous to leave him alone with Benjamin.

He was sitting up in bed, his head lolling back against the headboard. He looked asleep, but Jenny knew better than to think Gibbs was asleep if he was sitting up—he was probably strategically resting. She cleared her throat softly and came into the room—and then, with a sigh of relief, she realized he was holding the baby.

Jenny shivered, hating how cold he kept his—their—house, and stepped closer, looking softly for a moment at the picture. Benjamin was all snugly settled against Gibbs' chest, his little head tucked against his father's shirt and his feet dangling just slightly over Gibbs' arm.

Jenny reached out and stroked the baby's brow, pursing her lips.

Gibbs opened his eyes instantly, looking at her sharply. He relaxed when he recognized her.

"Hey," he grunted.

She sat down next to him, nudging his legs over.

"Why isn't he in his crib?" she asked gently, keeping her voice down.

Gibbs cleared his throat, shifting stiffly.

"He's sick," he said gruffly, an exhausted look in his eyes. "He stopped cryin' when we sat like this," he explained.

Jenny looked worried.

"Sick?" she repeated hoarsely. "What's wrong? He's never—he's only had a little ear infection. Is he—?"

"He's okay," Gibbs soothed, looking down at the baby. "Fever's stayed at one hundred," he said. "Gave 'im some Tylenol and a bath and drained 'is nose," he muttered. "It's a little cold, Jen, that's all."

Jenny frowned sympathetically and bent over, leaning down to kiss the baby's cheeks lightly. She sat up and raised an eyebrow at him warily.

"You should have called me," she admonished. "I would have come home."

Gibbs shrugged.

"I can handle it," he said smugly, giving her a proud look. "'Sides, he needed my attention more'n you," he added bluntly. "I'd have called if he needed a hospital."

Jenny tilted her head at him and smiled. Impressed by his words, she got up and started to strip out of her work clothes, carefully choosing the warmest pajamas she could find—it was so cold in DC; she'd spent so much time in warmer climates that she'd forgotten.

She took her hair out of its neat bun and crawled into bed, yawning and collapsing next to him, her face next to his thigh.

"I'll shower tomorrow," she mumbled. "I'm so tired," she sighed.

"Take the day tomorrow," Gibbs said. "Take care of 'im."

Jenny laughed quietly.

"Playing favorites with your team already, Agent Gibbs?" she asked. She moved her head and pressed a kiss to his leg, shoving her nose against his jeans affectionately. She appreciated the offer—and she'd probably take it. She wouldn't leave a sick, fussy baby with Noemi.

She shivered again and curled closer to Gibbs.

"My feet are so cold," she complained. "You need thicker sheets."

Gibbs didn't answer her—she sensed him rolling his eyes—but leaned forward and shifted slightly. He pushed her knees down, adjusting the blankets awkwardly with the baby in his arms, and then patted her feet—and promptly laid Benjamin down on top of them.

Jenny blinked, and then turned and sat up a little looking down—the sleeping baby shifted, his nose crinkling cutely, but didn't wake, and Gibbs sat next to her looking smug and pleased with himself.

"Jethro—" Jenny began testily.

"He's like a human electric blanket," Gibbs mused, glaring fondly. "I've been burnin' up, havin' to hold him like that."

Jenny wriggled her feet slightly, staring down at the makeshift-heating pad.

"He's so warm," she whispered, arching her eyebrows. She turned and glared at Gibbs warningly. "Do I want to know where you got this idea?"

Gibbs didn't answer; he continued to look at her smugly, waiting for the gratitude—Benjamin slept soundly, and he really was a warm, cuddly little thing. He seemed perfectly content on Jenny's feet, warming her up—and he could tell she was enjoying the sensation.

She squealed softly.

"I can feel him breathe," she whispered. "He's so cute, Jethro," she sighed, lying down next to him, blithely accepting the baby on her feet.

Gibbs leaned back, resting his arm around Jen's shoulders and keeping a watchful eye on his son in case he woke up or decided to roll over and smack his face into Jen's shins. He was busy working his fingers through the knots in Jenny's thick red hair when she shifted her head and blinked up at him, cocking an eyebrow half-heartedly.

"Is this acceptable parenting?" she asked wryly.

He shrugged.

"You kept him warm for nine months, didn't you?" he retorted. "Figure he owes you."

January, 2001

Finis!
-alexandra