An Unexpected Discovery

I don’t know how long I have been lying here, just watching her sleep. My mind vaguely registers the fact that the clock is somewhere behind my head, but I don’t feel like turning. Turning away would mean taking my eyes off her, which is something that I’m not prepared to do. Just as I am not prepared to stop gently tracing mindless patterns against her skin, no matter how much such an action pulls at the stitches in my arm.

She has a peace about her now, a gentleness that she doesn’t normally project when she is awake. No when she is awake, she is a Special Agent, a woman moving up through the ranks in an organization run by men. Awake she has a fierceness, a wit, that makes me love her all the more. But asleep she is an angel, her halo graciously supplied by the streetlight outside her window.

My fingers pause in their ministrations, as my mind seems to have caught up to the fact that there is a naked Caitlin Todd lying next to me, her arm draped lightly over my equally naked waist. Part of my brain, the part responsible for my rational thinking is wondering what the hell I was thinking, when I came to her door countless moments ago. The other part, a part I normally keep suppressed, hidden beneath layers of consciousness, is doing victory dances, because I have finally let go of my inhibitions.

For the time being I choose to ignore both parts of what I see at the moment to be a useless organ, satisfied to just relish in this paradise I have been granted. As my fingers resume their journey, I allow my eyes to drift shut, memorizing the curves of her soft skin with touch alone. Flashes of memory explode behind my eyes.

Kate opening her door to me. Kissing me. Pulling my undershirt carefully over my head, making sure not to hit my injured arm, not that I would care if she did. Her eyes looking up at me, as I hovered over her, eyes that were now so dark that they looked almost black. I can see her hands as they stroked up my chest, can practically feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I force my eyes open, the flashes disintegrate, as my vision is filled with just her. Her hair splayed haphazardly over her pillow, tangled and free. A dark, sweet smelling cloud that I long to bury my nose in, just as I try to bury the doubts that have once again floated to the surface. But I don’t move I don’t want to wake the sleeping beauty, which I am lucky enough to share a bed with.

I worry that she might have the same doubts that I am having now. Where does this leave us? I have just slept with a woman I work with, and not just that, no it could never be as simple as that. No she had to be woman who works on my team, a woman who in the professional world I am the boss of. God what have I done. A small voice whispers that I have done what I have wanted to do ever since I met her. Ever since she threatened to shoot me.

I try to ignore the voice, to push it to the back of my mind. I pull my hand away from her skin, unable to think logically while I’m still touching her. I try to ignore the soft warmth that emanates from the arm still draped around my waist, try being the operative word. My mind registers that the glow from the streetlight has been joined by the gentle rays of dawn. I need to sleep; I can’t deal with the aftermath of whatever this turns out to be on no sleep.

I bring my arm up, sliding my hand underneath the pillow on which my head rests. My fingertips so used to feeling soft skin, brush harshly against metal. I push my hand in deeper, only to discover that I am in fact touching the barrel of a pistol. The grin that lights up my face could probably power a small town for a month. Any and all doubts flea my mind. My girl sleeps with a gun under her pillow. Yeah, that’s right my girl, my Katie. I place a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, and slip my arm around her once more, pulling her close. This time when my eyes close and the memories return, I welcome them. As I feel sleep come I think of ways that I can make some more such memories, my grin never leaving my face.

-**-

The bang of my garbage cans hitting each other, and the annoying sounds which always accompany a large truck, pull me from my peaceful slumber. I open my eyes lazily, a soft yawn escaping my lips. My mind registers the fact that I am wrapped in warmth. Warmth that comes not from the sheet, which barely covers me but instead, comes from the sleeping form that is holding me close. It’s then that I remember, remember in glorious and fantastic detail the events of the night before, the night that Leroy Jethro Gibbs, told me he was in love with me, that he didn’t want regrets.

I study his face, noticing but not caring about the wrinkles that surround his eyes. Noticing the grin etched into his features and wondering what could have put it there. It is then that my eyes drift, scanning my surroundings. The clock on my bedside table shows that it is seven minutes after eight. The small rectangle of sunlight on my bedroom wall shows that I didn’t pause to ensure that the curtains were closed fully last night. But then again who in their right mind would have, when they have the opportunity to have a handsome ex-marine in their bed.