AN: Just kidding, there's a second chapter to this story. It's based on "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5. Thanks for the reviews! They got me thinking and there you go ~ Excuse the fluff.

She is not fully awake, but even in that hazy, too-early-to-function-go-back-to-sleep-dammit state, she can feel the shivers run through her body. Stubborn as Kate is, she pulls her knees up to her chest, clenching her eyes shut in denial. There, conserving heat.

But it doesn't seem to be working. Her hands are cold, her feet are cold and her comforter is MIA. Ugh. With her eyes closed, she feels the space around her for the lost cover, yet comes up empty-handed, quite literally. No way.

Kate rolls over onto her other side and opens her eyes. Well, there it is – she must have kicked it off in her sleep to the other end of the bed. She scoots closer and is just about to tug at the corner, when – it's moving!

Okay, she may have screamed. A little. The breathing bundle scared her, but it's on now, her mind is on. In the span of a couple of seconds, everything comes into place: Ari. Home. Gibbs. Good night, Kate. She remembers, alright.

"Gibbs," she whispers, cautious. Comforter-thief and all, she doesn't want to freak him out because, because he looks peaceful and she is not used to seeing him like that. His features are murky in the dark, and she has to restrain herself from mapping out a tangible image, from running a fingertip over the crease bridging his eyebrows, from tracing his lips. It's all so tempting and Kate is curious. She shakes it out.

"Gibbs," she whispers, gripping the edge of the cover. He lets out a snore, unabashed.

Wow, she knew he was a heavy sleeper – he slept on that awful airplane ride, after all – but she hoped he would wake up. She has nothing left to do, but pull.

It's a tug of war – of her pulling the cover and of him mumbling something in his sleep and tightening his hold around it. Damn it, Gibbs, release! She is prone to forgetting what he did last night, or rather what he was – sweet, Gibbs was sweet – in light of this recent development.

One last time she pulls the fabric to herself and – finally! – a small bit of the cover escapes Gibbs' hold. She immediately feels warmer, and it doesn't matter whether it's the patch of comforter that does it or the heat, radiating from him. It really doesn't matter, okay.

He shifts a little and she closes her fists around her end of the cover, just in case. It's not necessary. He grumbles a somewhat incoherent, "McGee, get me another one –" and then inches closer. Close enough to drape his arm over her waist and pull her to himself. Close enough for Kate to feel his heartbeat; hear that content hum he lets out once he has secured her in his arms.

When he wakes up, he can hear the tap tap tapping of water against glass, of rain, or at least that's what he thinks it is. He takes a deep breath and his eyes shoot wide open, because raspberry and something sweet – vanilla?

And that's Kate he is holding. His agent. There's a moment when he just closes his eyes again – he still feels tired – and lets instinct take over, when he tightens the hold around her and kisses her shoulder. It doesn't last long. He opens his eyes and he is Gibbs again, fiercely loyal, more caring than anyone gives him credit for, and in big, big trouble.

He has to let go, but there is something that is holding him back. One time, he tries to disentangle himself and she stirs in her sleep. He is sure she is awake; then she turns around and nuzzles his neck, while her hand comes to rest on his chest. By the sound of her breathing, she is sleeping deeply and he just, he doesn't want to wake her up.

He glances at the clock and it's barely seven in the morning. Grey light is slipping through the blinds and the raindrops reach a crescendo. It's a downpour. He can stay a bit longer, until the rain subsides a little. But actually, he should go soon, because –

Gibbs is out of control: when Kate clutches the front of his shirt, a frown creasing her brow, he drops a kiss on her forehead, the lightest contact possible. He traces the length of her arm with his fingertips, committing the outlines to memory, just in case. What was it, only fools rush in? Damn, he has to run fast for the door then. Giving her shoulder a little squeeze, he quietly slips away, something he should have done hours ago –

She hears him when he slips away. A part of her wants to call out to him, get him back in bed with her –in a quite innocent way – because it's Sunday and they don't have to go to work, or do anything. And because it's comforting, having someone to lie down next to, someone to cuddle with. Who would have thought Gibbs would be that cuddly? It's a trick in and of itself – the grumpy demeanor diverts attention from his little acts of kindness. A smile rises to her lips as she remembers the way he pulled her closer, possessively in a way. But he was sleeping, Kate. She rolls onto her back, and grabs a pillow, burying her face in cotton.

The key in the lock does it. She doesn't overthink it; she just hopes she catches him at the door.

"Gibbs?"

He looks surprised to see her, but also relieved? She doesn't know how to interpret the half-smile. "Go back to sleep, Kate," he says finally, turning back to leave.

"Wait – Gibbs."

She's got his attention, but it's still difficult to say it, not because she doesn't mean it, but because she means it, a lot. "Thank you," she murmurs, and doesn't wait to hear his response, in case there's any. She just wraps her arms around him, and bites her lip not to smile, when he whispers in her ear.

"I got your back, Agent Todd."