#Leroy Jethro Gibbs

[thebellekeys]

leave him alone that's my emotional support grumpy middle aged white man with a layered past and zero bitches who's also really good at his job

[pathologicalrambler]

i love the strict boss and his hyperactive tech analyst that he’s overly protective over duo

[coppertophomegurl]

Every crime show has an episode:

A high school reunion murder

A killer with diplomatic immunity that still gets arrested through some outrageous loophole

There's always an episode where a psychic comes forward to help. Everyone will be extremely wary of the psychic except for one person. And the psychic will end up being correct.

Murderous twins. They're often separated at birth. All the investigators will make a joke about it being twins and then are SHOCKED when it actually does turn out to be twins.

Killer child. Literally just a little kid that kills (usually another little kid)

An episode that villianizes people with DID. (sometimes the writers do a 2 for 1 special and make one of the "alters" a different gender so that they can both villianize mentally ill people, AND make transphobic jokes 🙃)

Sleepwalking murderer

Murder by proxy via hypnosis. Similar to the psychic, most of the team will be very skeptical.

Someone finds a body in a time capsule

Some killer that just got like WAY too into Dantes Inferno

Murder victim that has multiple families/wives

Murder at a roller derby. This episode will usually give off big sapphic vibes

Feel free to add more!

[giadin-a]

Ncis Fanart I participated in the NCISverse competition since I wasn't selected, I decided to share the drawing with you.

[ncis-yp]

Get in the Truck (Jethro Gibbs x reader) [SMUT]

The bullpen was quiet ever since you and Jethro had your big argument while you were out investigating a case and the pair of you wouldn’t talk to each other. Tony and McGee exchanged quiet looks of uncertainty as Gibbs walked in.

You sat now at your desk, fuming. You looked up at him as he passed you.

“You have a problem, (l/n)?” He asked. You hadn’t responded. “Do you have a problem, (y/n)?” You continued to glare at him. “I asked you a question Marine, answer me.”

“No.” You said coldly. His icy blue eyes staring right into yours. Two fiery glares being exchanged in silence.

“(Y/n) what exactly happened out there?” McGee asked.

“Yeah… I’m with McNosy on this one” Tony agreed.

“I said something he didn’t like. I did something he didn’t like.” you respond not looking up from your paperwork. They boys had receded back to their work, leaving you be… you obviously weren’t in the mood. Jethro clenched his jaw.

What felt like hours later, you grew bored of your filing work and grabbed the remaining 20 something files, you dropped them onto his desk. You locked eyes with him as they landed with a deep thud. You decided you would go toe to toe with you boss and boyfriend at the same time.

“Here Jethro. That’s for you” you say and grab your coat. “I’m taking my lunch break” you walked out. It was his turn to fume now. Tony and McGee looked at each other as they argument was waiting to break out. He glared daggers into your back as you stalked to the elevator.

“Boss…” DiNozzo began.

“Shut it.” Gibbs stood up and followed you. “You know (y/n) pretty stupid of you to tell your boss what you were gonna do” he said following you.

“Oh god Gibbs grow up” you reply walking towards your car. “Boss, boyfriend, what are you? You can’t play both roles at once you know”

You turned abruptly to face him.

“Yes I can” he replied. “You crossed the line”

“Oh, I crossed the line, baby? I crossed the line!?” You were now literally inches away from him. You could feel his body heat. “I wasn’t the one that started bringing out personal affairs into it. I wasn’t the one that decided it’d be a good idea to just, I don’t know, casually tell someone that “you’re always so belligerent (y/n) you don’t listen, the only time you’ve ever listened to me is in bed, and you barely do that””

Jethro couldn’t deny it, he was incredibly turned on by you. Your anger made your eyes sparkle, the way your jaw flexed as you glared at him.

“Im sorry I crossed the line (y/n) but you are not allowed to tell me how to do my job when I’m on the field because at work, I’m the boss.” He spoke. “You don’t listen. You don’t immediately do as I tell you, quite frankly, you have gotten belligerent.”

“Then fuck it out of me” you say through gritted teeth. “Fuck the belligerency right out of me”

“Get in the truck.” His eyes darkened. “Now. And (l/n) do not make me ask you again” you walked to the truck, he pushed you against the door and caught you in a heated kiss. Unlocking the door behind you. You undid your coat, and he undid his throwing it into the truck bed as you opened the door.

You got inside and scooted back as he crawled between your legs, closing the door behind you. His mouth reconnected to yours roughly. His hands followed the natural curve of your clothing as you moaned into his mouth. His calloused hands met the waistband of your pants as yours found his belt. You teased his growth as he assaulted your neck. He bucked his hips as he groaned.

“Fuck” you heard the desire in his voice.He made easy work of undoing your pants with an easy few flicks of his wrist. Unzipping his pants, he easily slipped himself out as you let your pants down.

He slid into you, a deep guttural groan leaving him. You moaned into his mouth as he roughly fucked you. Not wasting anytime in relieving himself and chasing to relieve you. The tangled moans that es the two of you would’ve been a symphony to any outside listeners.

Your moans and whimpers raised higher in pitch as he thrusted sloppier and sloppier as his orgasm neared. Hard thrusts earned him a rough bite on his neck.

“Fuck (y/n)” he groaned into your neck as his sporadic thrusts were being to speed up. Your walls clenched around him, causing a grunt to roll off his tongue. You were a whole other story.

You were actively losing your mind. Your composure had slipped, moans and curses slurred together as he fucked. Your own hand has drawn down to your clit to rub the circles you needed to make your body stiffen. Your mouth laid open in pleasure as you orgasmed. Cursing his name as he came simultaneously with you.

“God, (y/n)” he pulled out of you, grabbed a wipe from the pack he kept in the glove compartment. He cleaned you as best as he could before caring for himself. You laid on the truck seat with a dazed smile on your face.

“What gorgeous?” He smirked. As he opened the door and stood up. Looking around as he fixed his pants and boxers, pulling them up.

“Best sex I think I’ve ever had” you reply. You stood close to Gibbs and rearranged yourself . Your two bodies warm. You tuck in his shirt and zip and button his pants. He watched as you did so. You kissed him as you redid his belt.

“I think can top it” he shrugged.

“Hm. Top me tonight after dinner”

“Are you telling me what to do (l/n)? While we’re at work?” He questioned.

“No sir” you respond, teasing him. You giggled as you hugged him. He kissed the top of your head. He let go and the two of you began walking back to the office. Giggling and walking around like a goofball. Dickdrunk and high off serotonin.

“Report to the house by 1900 hours” Gibbs ordered. You smirked as you stood in place.

“Yes sir” you saluted him.

“What marine?”

“Yes sir”

“What time are you to report to the house, marine?”

“1900 hours”

“At ease soldier” the two of you laughed as you locked hands. He kissed your temple. “You’re my good girl” he whispered in your ear as you got in the elevator. You smile.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Baby Thoughts

Prompt: You never really thought about having children with your boyfriend, until a situation brings it up.

Mentions of OD Death, baby neglect.

"Look. I'm just a small fish in a big pond. I'm not the one selling that stuff, Julie is," the jittery man across the interrogation table explained to you and McGee. The both of you had been pulling as much information as you could out of him in correlation with your investigation in the death of a Marine but he wasn't much help.

"Alright. Well where can we find Julie?" McGee asked, writing everything down in a pad.

"She's been staying in the Independence hotel on 5th. Room 36. That's the last place I saw her."

Satisfied with a lead, as small as it was, you stood with McGee and exited the room, joining the rest of the team in the squad room.

"Got an address boss," McGee updated.

Jethro got up from his seat, grabbing his coffee and began walking towards the elevators while giving orders.

"DiNozzo, Torres, you two go see if the nearby gas station has any security footage of our Marine's murder, McGee, you're with me and Y/N."

Both you and Tim raced to your desks to retrieve your weapons and then to the elevators before Jethro shut the doors.

- - - -

You sat shotgun as Jethro drove to the address, pulling up to a rundown looking Motel. It wasn't in the greatest neighborhood and you were already dealing with a suspected drug deal gone bad, so you were on high alert. The three of you got out, surveilling your surroundings before heading to Room 36. The distant sound of a baby crying could be heard from inside the room as Jethro knocked loudly.

"Julie Oscrow, NCIS!"

There was no answer so Jethro knocked again as McGee checked the windows.

"Can't see anything boss."

A knot formed in your stomach as Jethro pulled his gun out, you and McGee following suit as he opened the door. Once you entered the room, you noticed two things immediately. The terrible smell that entered your nose and the sight of a woman on the floor, foam pooling from her mouth.

"Y/N, call it in," Jethro ordered before rushing over to her and preforming CPR.

Holstering your weapon, you pulled your phone out and dialed for EMS as McGee cleared the rest of the hotel room. It wasn't long before Jethro stopped, knowing that she was past saving, you putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hey boss, we got a problem," McGee announced from the bedroom. You both made your way over and saw what he was referring to.

Sitting in a makeshift playpen made from a couple of large boxes was a baby no more than two years old, crying their heart out. Jethro wasted no time in taking care of the situation, picking them up and patting their back, while shushing gently. You just stared as he swayed with the infant who began calming down and wiping their tear streaked face.

"McGee, call Ducky and Jimmy, let them know we have a body," he spoke while motioning you over. You walked over as he handed you the baby, who had begun crying again.

"Hold him for a second while I make a bottle."

You didn't have any skill in handling babies but tried your best to mimic Jethro's actions from before and were thoroughly surprised when it worked immediately. Jethro gave you a small smile, moving your hand so it supported his neck.

"You're a natural, Y/N."

You just chuckled nervously and watched him rummage in the diaper bag that was on the bed, pulling out a bottle and a little packet before heading back into the other room and filling it with water. You looked at the little baby in your arms, his onesie stained with drool and God knows what else and couldn't help but feel a weird pull in your heart. You felt a instinctual need to protect him and keep him close to you. Part of you didn't even want to give him back to Jethro once the bottle was ready which you felt he sensed.

"Here, hold him like this," he instructed, positioning the baby in your arms. He began eating vigorously once the nipple reached his mouth, as his little hands clutched onto yours. You enjoyed the endearing moment and didn't miss the look of love Jethro gave you before going over to help McGee canvas the crime scene.

- - - -

You sat in the back of the ambulance, still holding the now sleeping baby in your arms, wrapped in a thin blanket. Jethro had changed his diaper and dressed him in something less dirty before EMS arrived and gave him a once over. You volunteered to stay with the baby while you waited for Child Services to arrive as McGee and the rest of the team investigated the crime scene. Jethro was finishing up a phone call before he came to join you in the ambulance, sitting down beside you and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"You'd make a great mother, you know," he whispered, making you smile.

"You think so?"

"I do."

You thought about the question that had been bugging you the last half hour and finally decided to just ask it.

"Would you have a baby with me Jethro?"

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, memories of his past family most likely surfacing as he took a breath before speaking.

"I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about it. I couldn't see myself having one with no one else but you. But we can talk about that later."

You accepted his vague answer, actually getting more out of him than you thought you have and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Plus, I'd want you to be my wife before that and this is not how I planned on asking," he added.

You whipped your head up to look at him and he chuckled, giving you a quick kiss on the lips and getting up.

"Child Services should be here any minute. I'm going to finish up with the team, come join us when you're done."

You nodded, smile still etched on your face from his previous comment and watched him leave. Looking back down at the little boy in your arms, you whispered a small thanks. Even thought his circumstances were unfortunate, you couldn't help but be grateful to the progress in your relationship he caused.

[ncis-best]

Gibbs: Y/n did you slap Tony?

Y/n: no….

Tony: Yes you did!!!!!

Y/n: nooo I didn’t

Tony: YES YOU DID.!!!!

Y/n: NO I DIDNT!!!!

Tony: YES YOU DID!!!

Y/n: YES I DID!!!

Tony:NO YOU DIDNT!!

Y/n: see Gibbs I didn’t.

Tony: wha-

Gibbs: good girl.

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2024 | Day 30

Holding Back Tears

NCIS Origins s01e04: “You’re not alone.”

[poorlywrittenbutentertaining]

Consultant

Gibbs x Fem!oc

Warnings: light swearing, canon typical warnings

Summary: sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he looked over the screens in front of him. He had examined and re-examined the evidence several times and yet he felt stuck. A dead Navy officer whose circumstances and crime scene pointed to murder but death implied natural causes. All roads led to a dead end. Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, deciding a coffee would be a good way to clear his mind. He grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder as he exited the building. The sun felt refreshing as he walked out of the navy yard, flashing security his badge and ID as he passed.

The streets were surprisingly quiet for noon, but he couldn’t argue. After years living alone he’d come to appreciate quiet. A brief walk later and he stepped into his favorite coffee shop, the one he frequented often enough that the entire staff had memorized his order. Not that it was difficult, large black coffee, Jamaican blend. The barista behind the counter simply nodded and him and rang up the coffee as Gibbs provided his card to pay.

The bell over the door chimed behind him as a voice flooded through the small shop, “-Well I know that, but he’s not stable enough. His wound is volatile enough as is, if he leaves the hospital the risk of infection is too high… don’t tell me that, tell him that!… ugh, push 100 Ml.s until I get back and can handle this myself. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Gibbs peeked over his shoulder to see a somewhat familiar face, however she looked disgruntled and minutely irritated. He stepped out of the way as he listened to her order. Her drink order was complex and (he assumed) would be very very sweet by the end.

“Lotta sugar for a doctor to be drinking,” Gibbs said casually. The girl looked over at him and he managed a half smile, “Dr. Wright.”

Elaine’s face broke out into a wide grin as she turned to him, still dressed in her work scrubs, her badge clipped to her lapel. On her lunch break, he assumed.

“Agent Gibbs,” her voice was surprised, but pleasant, “I don’t think you should come after my sugar consumption. I’ve heard just how high your caffeine intake is.”

Gibbs chuckled, “fair enough. Tough patient?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Elaine stood next to him, “tough case?”

Gibbs nodded and mimicked her words, “yeah… you could say that.” He looked down at her. Her flaming red curls were stuffed into a tight bun on the back of her head. A few stray curls bounced around her head, free from the elastics holding everything else in place.

“Tell me about it,” Elaine glanced up at him, “Consider me a… consultant. Y’know like those psychics on TV.”

“Are you a psychic, Elaine?” Gibbs asked.

“No, but I’m a doctor,” Elaine said, “and a little birdie told me that cause of death looks natural, but you’re investigating murder. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need?”

Gibbs stopped a moment and considered. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes was what he needed. Ducky had gone over the body several times and all of the evidence had been scoured for forensics. A different perspective could be enlightening.

“Gibbs!” The barista called. Gibbs grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

“You free today?” Gibbs asked.

“For the case? Or… something else?” Elaine cheekily smiled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Elaine laughed, “What time do you want me there?

“1700 hours,” Gibbs said.

“Copy that, gunny.”

~~~

The elevator dinged and Elaine ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing it out after taking a deep breath. The last time she was here, she had held a bomb for four hours, and then developed a slight crush on the leading investigator, who also happened to be her godfather’s best friend. She had woken up in his home, after receiving a serious concussion where he had monitored her for the full day.

Elaine had changed out of her scrubs into more office-appropriate attire. As the elevator doors slowly opened in front of her she was greeted by the familiar sight of the orange squad room. She stepped out and quickly made her way to the bullpen.

“Dr. Wright,” DiNozzo stood and moved to her side, “how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for agent Gibbs, he asked me to be here.”

“For what?”

“Elaine,” Gibbs rounded the dividers. Elaine smiled and walked to him, “with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine fell into step with him as he guided her to the second elevator, “so read me in.”

“Navy officer, 35, house was trashed and raided, there was a significant amount of deer blood on the body but when the body was examined, all roads lead to a heart attack,” Gibbs said, “but the officer was perfectly healthy when we pulled his medical records.”

“Huh,” Elaine rolled her lips, “I might have an idea.”

When the elevator opened Elaine was greeted by the sight of a serile autopsy room, and her godfather.

“Hello dear,” Ducky smiled and walked over to her, embracing her tight.

“Hi dad,” Elaine smiled and returned the hug, “i’m here as a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Yes Jethro told me,” Ducky pulled away and retrieved her a fresh set of protective equipment, “our dear officer is right here.” Elaine pulled the PPE over her clothing and approached the body. He looked healthy, for a dead guy who had been autopsied. Nothing immediately struck her as strange. Elaine rolled the body’s arm out and inspected its veins.

“Did this man go to the hospital before he died?” elaine asked, grabbing a magnifying glass to zoom the area.

“No,” Ducky said. Elaine pulled away from the glass, and showed Ducky. He hummed, “Looks like an IV. But there were no drugs in his blood.”

“No, there wasnt,” Elaine said, “They didnt inject medication. They injected air. Of course you wouldn’t see it on a tox screen. An injection of air can cause what looks like a heart attack. The air bubbles block the flow of blood, it’s the reason we watch so close for air bubbles in shots, and IV drips.”

It was that moment that Gibbs realized just how smart this woman was, “The injection was professional. Straight into the vein. You’re looking for someone who works in a hospital or medical testing lab. A phlebotomist maybe, or a nurse.”

A nurse, that was it. Gibbs nodded and began walking off.

“Say thank you, Jethro!” Ducky called. Gibbs halted and turned, approaching Elaine as she took her gloves off with her back turned to him. When she turned she froze to see he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him with a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“Good work, doctor,” Gibbs’ voice was low. Elaine swallowed and smiled at him.

“Told you, you needed fresh eyes,” She smiled slightly. Gibbs turned and walked away and Elaine took a deep breath, leaning against the sinks.

“You’re swooning, Elaine,” Ducky said. Elaine laughed slightly.

“That man is worth swooning for,” She answered.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Ice Queen: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader (NCIS: Origins)

Tagging: @kmc1989

The first time Gibbs lays eyes on you, you’re standing there at the edge of the crime scene on the beach, staring into the sea. Despite the fact he’d lost Shannon and Kelly only months before he can still appreciate your beauty, even through the scope of the sniper rifle he’s using to emulate the shooter’s position.

“Whose she?” He asks Randy, who uses his hand to shield his eyes against the glare of the sun coming in through the open window.

“Medical Examiner.” Randy responds, his gaze falling back to the information he’s scribbling down on the notepad.  

“Her attention’s in the wrong direction.” Gibbs remarks, his finger tensing on the trigger out of habit.

Your hair blows in the wind, before you turn your attention back towards the tent that’s been set up to conceal the bodies out of view of the reporters. He tracks you with the rifle until you disappear inside before exhaling and releasing the trigger.

When he gets back down onto the sand, he’s almost forgotten about you. He’s too busy playing the angles, calculating the order of the victims when he steps into the tent and there you are arguing with task force agent Jacob Landsford. He wants you to release the bodies over to them instead of taking it back to NIS and you’re refusing until you hear from the director.

He hates the way that Landsford towers over you, how he uses his height to loom, to bully. His voice is loud and it echoes through the tent like an airhorn as he jabs his finger into your face.

“Sweetheart, you better sign that damn paperwork or so help me god-”

“Oh honey…” You drawl, spitting the word like it’s acid. Your eyes burn with a ferocity that is age old, one that every single woman who has been spoken down to by a man feels. “God ain’t gonna help you, not with this.”

He watches as the others man’s fist clenches, the skin turning white as it stretches across the knuckles.  

“You can’t speak to me that way…”

“When you start playing nice, I’ll start playing nice.” You tell Landsford, checking the watch on your wrist. “Now if you excuse me, I have to take these guys-” You gesture at the bagged bodies.  “-back to my morgue, where I can do my autopsies.”

The fist grows tighter and for a second Gibbs thinks Landsford is actually going to strike you. He wants to, he can feel it in the fibre of his being. His own body tenses, his muscles coiling but you tilt your head to one side, your gaze lowering to his fist.

“You wanna hit me, hit me.” You say jutting your chin up to meet his gaze. “I can guarantee I’ll punch back harder.”

He isn’t sure whether you mean physically or professionally but either way it makes Landsford pause. There’s silence for a moment, his gaze penetrating into yours and you don’t flinch, not for a single second.

“Everything they say about you is true.” Landsford snarls, jabbing his finger at you. “You’re a frigid fucking bitch.”

“I prefer the term ice queen.” You remark dryly. “Isn’t that what they call me up there in that office of yours while you’re measuring dicks?”

Landsford doesn’t speak, instead he turns his back on you, his eyes meeting Gibbs’s on the way out.

“Watch out for her.” He says, jerking his thumb at you. “She’ll tear your fucking cock off.”

“I’d be have to go looking for it first.” You snort, placing your hand on your hip. “Now fuck off so I can get some work done.”

Landsford does but not before giving you the middle finger.

“He always like that with you?” Gibbs asks, watching the other man disappear through the flap.

“Comes with the territory.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “He’s not the first he won’t be the last.”

He wants to ask if you find it exhausting but he’s new here, barely finding his feet. He doesn’t feel competent enough to discuss the gender politics of NIS with you just yet.

“Sorry. I should have introduced myself.” He says holding out his hand to shake yours. “I’m Gibbs, Agent Gibbs.”

“Maeve.” You say, taking his hand. Your grasp is firm, stronger than most of the men whose hands he’s shaken recently.  “But like you heard, they call me the Ice Queen.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[cas-kingdom]

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

[kdogreads]

Imagine being Gibbs’ girl

He tries to keep his rough exterior, but he totally melts for you

He’ll definitely dance with you in the basement if you ask sweetly enough, and even if he pretends not to, he loves just swaying with you to some old country loves songs.

(This would definitely play through his radio)

Or kiss every one of you fingers if you come home from work and say they’re sore.

He will put you back in the car if you try to open your own door.

He’ll learn how to put your hair in a pony tail or a bun if you hurt your shoulder and can’t do it yourself. Plus he’ll keep brushing your hair for you, sitting snugly between his thighs and enjoying his warmth, long after you heal.

He sings to you if you wake up in the night reliving your darkest times in your dreams. He’ll wrap you up as tightly as he can in his strong arms, strong enough to remind you you’re safe with him, and whisper the words to any old song that pops into his head.

He loves to leave you little notes by the coffee pot or on your bedside table when he leaves before you do:

Have a good day, my love. See you tonight

- J

You agree not to marry early in the relationship

You’d both been around that block more than once, and it seemed like that fancy piece of paper just complicates things.

Of course, you’re exclusive to one another, but you just can’t bring yourselves to risk changing what you have by changing your last name. It seems so insignificant when you think of it that way.

Most of your neighbors and friends just assume you’re married, anyway. So when a letter arrives in the mail addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs, you aren’t surprised. It makes you smile to see it on paper, but nothing is going to change your minds on this.

His love language is 100% acts of service

He’ll unload the dishwasher, fold the laundry, bring you home fresh flowers for no reason at all, have dinner ready if he somehow makes it home before you do one day. He rarely lets you bring in any groceries or luggage. Even though he knows you are tough enough to literally take him down, he wouldn’t dare letting you carry something too heavy or inconvenient.

Any little thing he can do to brighten your day, he does.

In turn, the small acts you grant him, like taking his suit jackets to the dry cleaners, setting his shoes and thermos out for him before work, picking up a new book about boats, make him fall even more in love with you.

He makes you things

J will make you anything he thinks you might like. A wooden stand for your plants, a step stool when you mention that the bed is just a little bit high off the ground for you, shelves to proudly display your knick knacks, a sled for Christmas after you tell him you never had one as a child.

He’d even try his hand at a ukulele if you mention wanting to learn to play.

Of course he’s made boats named for Kelly and Shannon, but his newest project is adorned proudly with your name, sprawled across the hull in flowing letters.

His hobby turns into more than just that, it’s his way to show you how much he loves you, and you soak in everything he’ll give you.

He’ll use his jacket to shield you from the rain

Jethro is usually prepared for anything, but rain can sneak up on you. In that case, he’ll peel his jacket off and cover you as best as he can. Even if it means he’ll get soaked to the bone, he’ll make sure you’re covered a least a little bit more than he is.

He tones down his crazy driving for you

The first time you got in the car with him, you about passed out from an anxiety attack. You don’t want to be a backseat driver, so you just grin and bear it for a while, but he picks up on your discomfort pretty quickly.

He slows down, starts using his turn signal, and stops cutting people off, but every now and then, when it’s late and the roads are empty, he’ll take you for a high-speed cruise just to get your blood pumping.

He’s much touchier than you ever imagined

A strong hand on the small of your back, fingers ghosting over your exposed thigh, a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder when you’re uneasy, or just brushing against you to pass, even when there is plenty of room to spare.

Anything he can do to have his hands on you, he’ll do. You two are like a safety tether for each other, always there to make sure you don’t drift too far away.

As far as PDA goes, Jethro is pretty limited in what he’s willing to show the world, but he’ll always find a discreet way to connect himself to you. A brief brush of your pinkies, a quick kiss to your forehead, or a full-on embrace if you find a moment alone. Whatever it is, his touch still sets you on fire every time.

He is so gentle and fatherly to children

The two of you decided early on that you would avoid having kids. Given his past, you understand and agree to the arrangement. When you get together with your young nieces and nephews, though, Jethro turns into a total kid right along with them.

He’s quick to join in a game of cops and robbers, always quipping how it’s so much more fun being the bad guy, or plop down in the grass and find pictures in the clouds.

When someone takes a tumble or scrapes up their knee, though, he’s the first to scoop them up in his strong arms and hug the pain away. He’ll make them feel better with a story about when he hurt his knee, too, or how chicks dig scars (you always smack him playfully for that).

He makes a mean cup of coffee

You’d never thought of yourself as much of a coffee snob, but after tasting Jethro’s version, brewed slowly over the fire if time allows and mixed with the perfect amount of cream and sugar, you could never go back to any coffee shop again.

Same goes for his cooking. He doesn’t make much, but when he does, damn it is good.

“The secret ingredient is love,” he’ll joke to you, mocking your own phrase, and you’ll roll your eyes as the flavors envelop your tastebuds.

All in all, our man Jethro is basically the best partner you could ever ask for, and you love showing him how much you appreciate him.

Tagging some of my LJG lovers 💕

@instantnoooodles @daphne-bourne @museofbooks @ilovemark1951 it won’t let me tag you :( @yestwlightfan

[pathologicalrambler]

it’s always the jock, the nerd and their dad

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[momentaryescape]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Gibbs x Agent!Reader Warnings: Cursing Word Count: 1406 A/N- When I wrote this the vibe for Gibbs is similar to how he acts at the end of season 7 episode 23 when he is taking to the lawyer. It seems really specific but gives an idea for the vibe.

“Was any of it true?” The anger you tried to hide was boiling inside you. You thought you meant something to him. That it was real and not pretend. But here you were, standing in his living room feeling like a fool.

“You knew what this was. It was fun y/n, nothing more. I don’t know what made you think this would be anything but that.” Gibbs seemed like his normal emotionless self. Hell by the looks of it he seemed more annoyed you were bothering him with this conversation

“For months you would get mad if a guy even so much as looked in my direction. Tony brought me coffee and you dismissed him over some bullshit thing he didn’t even do. Mcgee gave me his coat after mine got fucked chasing down a perp and you ignored him for the rest of the case. So nothing my ass Jethro. You want to act like it was nothing but I know that deep down you felt something.” That was your breaking point. You grabbed your stuff before leaving his home, slamming the door on the way out.

~~~~~

“Hey y/n, everything good?” Mcgee gave you a questioning look.

“I’m fine.” You snapped.

“Ohhkay.” Mcgee’s seemed shocked at the outburst.

“Fuck. Sorry Mcgee. I had a rough night. I'm better now, some things have been cleared up.” You smiled back.

“Well if you want a different kind of rough, let me know.” You Didn't see Tony walk up behind you, his comment making you jump in your seat.”Here, brought you coffee.”

“Thank you Tony.” You shot him a flirty smile. Tony winked back at you before sitting at his desk.

Gibbs was watching the entire interaction play out from his desk. He knew what you were trying to do. The remarks of a rough night, the flirty look at Tony. You were trying to get under his skin. He hated it. Not just what you were doing but the fact that it was working.

It had been a few days since the moment you had in Gibbs’ living room. There hadn’t been any new cases the past few days, so the team was catching up on paperwork. Disrupting the silence, Gibbs slaps a hand on your desk.

“Can I help you?” You don’t even bother looking up, already knowing who it is.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gibbs snapps through gritted teeth. Irritation clearly written across his face.

“Work Gibbs. I have a job to do and that's what I plan on doing.” You still hadn’t looked up from your computer.

“Agent l/n, I expect you to look at me when I’m talking to you.” His outburst drew the attention of everyone around. Questionable faces wondering what the hell was happening.

“Careful Jethro, people might think you have emotions, wouldn't want that to happen.” You looked up at him, clearly annoyed with his presence. Your quip had also clearly pissed him off.

“Leave.” His voice had a bite to it.

“Why? You're the one who came over to my desk, got annoyed I was focused and not looking up at you, and now you want me to leave? I get it, you're the boss man, but I still deserve respect. So give me one valid reason that I need to leave, aside from hurting your “feelings”.”

“Y/n-” Zive tried cutting in before things got more heated.

“Thank you but I’ve got this Ziva. I'm not scared of an emotionally immature man who thinks he can stab me with his words like pins. You want to act all big and bad, but we both know what you are.” You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.

“Thats it agent l/n. You need to leave, and until you can act like an adult don't feel the need to come in.” Gibbs was pissed. At this point he was practically yelling.

“Gladly. I would rather be anywhere but near the smallest man who ever lived.” With that you grabbed your bag, collected what you would need to finish your work from home and started toward the elevators.

~~~~~

Gibbs knew he had fucked up. Both in front of everyone and during the original fight. He had cared. He loved to show you off, but always made sure nobody the two of you knew could see. He was a private man, he told himself. But looking back you're the only person he hid. He felt ashamed. You were younger, happier, all the things he wasn't you were.

And now here he was, at your front door. He straightened his stace before knocking on the door. At first he thought you might not be home, but that thought was whipped away when he saw your frame in the open door. He heard you scoff, before asking him what he was doing there.

“I wanted to apologize.” He stated with a small hint of softness.

“Really?” You were calling his bluff.

“Yes, I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone. We should've talked privately.” You rolled your eyes at his statement.

“Yeah I tried that with you, remember? What was what started thin. I wanted to talk and you acted like it was nothing. I'm over it. I can deal with arguments, but being pretty much getting told I was delusional for believing that we had something killed any spark I had.” You meant every word.

“I’m trying here y/n.” His plea fell on deaf ears.

“Next time don't think “I’m sorry” will fix all your problems. You're a grown man Gibbs, act like it.”

“Its always the dramatics with you isn't it?” You scoffed at his remark. “Listen, I meant what I said. What we had, it was great. I’m sorry I said it was only fun. I had feelings for you, but we both knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Why not? Was it not fun once it wasnt forbidden? Once we were seen together was the thrill gone?” You thought back on all the times he would make excuses not to be seen with you. You felt stupid.

“Don't act like you didn't know that this was only meant to be between the two of us.” He knew he was pushing your buttons, but he kept going.

“Are you that ashamed of me? Years of friendship, months of passion, and after that you still hide me away. I don't want to be some secret.” You wanted to smack his chest, cause the same pain he caused you.

“Do you not understand what would happen if they knew? How many rules I broke every time we were together?” He was yelling at this point.

“You know what the saddest part was? I would have died for you, but instead I just died inside. And you deserve prison but you won't serve the time.” You felt hot tears fall from your eyes. The realization you allowed yourself to cry over him fueled your anger. “It's over Gibbs. No second chance. No “it's different this time”. And no more acting like I’m nothing. We still work together. And as much as I would love to say "Good riddance", I love my job too much. I will take punishment for the show he had in the office, but I will not let you take my career.”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked at you, trying to read your expression. Without saying anything you walked to the door, opening it. A silent tell for him to leave. Taking in a slow deep breath you turn to face him. “Leave Gibbs, please.”

“I understand you're hurt y/n, and I know I'm the reason. I will still have your back, and I will still be your boss. But for both our sakes, I think it's best we keep the rest of the details between the two of us.”. You watched him walk out your door, down your steps to his car, and drive away from your home, shutting the door when you could no longer see him. And just like that it was over. No more late nights after cases where you end up in bed together, mornings shared over fresh coffee, and one less friend. Maybe some day the two of you could be friends again, but as for now that wasn’t something either of you wanted, or more realistically could handle.

[bishopsbelova]

Leroy Jethro Gibbs + Lucy NCIS 18x10