As Andrea looked at the man sitting across from her at the restaurant in Washington, D.C., she could see the same stress in his face that he had carried before the turn in their relationship fifteen years ago. She called on the same gentleness with which she’d handled the Marine then. “What has happened to you, J? What is going on in your life that has you so sad?”
Gibbs looked up at her, startled at first. Then he relaxed back into his seat with a small smile. “Sad, am I? Then I guess I’ll go first. But you’re going to need a drink.” He waved to the waiter, requesting a scotch for himself and wine for her. And he told her. About his third marriage, his team, who had taken the place of family, losing Kate, almost losing Abby twice, Tony’s near-death experiences, and McGee’s. Even Ziva, the nearly invincible woman he described, had had a close call in a serial killer case. He talked, and she listened; she ordered dessert and he drank more scotch. The waiter finally stopped checking on them, only approaching the table when Gibbs gestured for a refill. The restaurant began to empty, and when he finally stopped talking and looked around, Gibbs was startled at how late it was.
“You are the only one I know who can get me talking like that,” he tried for a patented Gibbs interrogation stare. Andrea laughed.
“Would you like to adjourn for the evening?” she asked. “My apartment isn’t far.”
Gibbs looked at her for a moment in the dim light of the restaurant. “I’d like to take you home with me,” he finally said.
Andrea gestured to the waiter and they briefly tussled over the bill. Gibbs paid, and she left a healthy tip for monopolizing the table all night. The waiter waved them out with a smile.
There was another minor battle when they reached Gibbs’ car. “I can drive, Andie,” he argued as she reached for his keys.
“I counted the scotches, Jethro, and you’re not driving. Or if you’re driving, I’m walking.” He handed over the keys, but ushered her into the driver’s seat before rounding to the passenger side.
The ride home was spent with Gibbs giving directions and Andrea learning the way to his house. The car was full of anticipation though, and again Andrea felt those first-date jitters. She hadn’t been this nervous the first time they’d been together.
She had talked to him that night on her couch fifteen years ago. She told him about the baby’s father; a boyfriend who was great until she got pregnant. He’d changed then, she said; turned abusive, started cheating, drinking and once " only once " he’d hit her. Gibbs tensed at that, ready to fight an unknown enemy. She soothed him, curling into his arms and finishing her story. She’d moved to San Diego to get lost, to get away from him after that one slap. The boyfriend didn’t want the baby, she said, so he wouldn’t have the chance to abuse her " or it.
They had fallen back into their easy relationship after that night. There were some exceptions; Gibbs no longer allowed her to carry anything up or down the stairs if he was around. He helped decorate the nursery, and started bringing take-out to dinner two or three times a week. He started to talk about making sure he would be in town when her due date neared, and Andrea put a stop to the hovering then. “My mother and sister are both going to be here, Jethro,” she said. “I will have plenty of help. You go where you need to go, be where you need to be. You’re not my husband, and I’m not your responsibility.” He started at her vehemence, then agreed when he saw the glint in her eyes. Her “fighting look,” he called it.
And her mother and sister had come for the baby’s birth, a little girl Andrea named Amanda. When Gibbs returned from assignment, this time with his arm in a sling, he gazed at the infant with tears in his eyes before turning away to his own apartment. Andrea explained to her mother about the daughter he had lost, and the sling gave Gibbs time to adjust to the baby before he held her for the first time. Mentally prepared or not, as he picked Amanda up for the first time, he felt her wrap her tiny fingers around his heart. After that, Gibbs pretty much went home to sleep and change clothes.
A few months later, after another rough trip to someplace he couldn’t talk about, Andrea saw the shadows had returned to Gibbs’ eyes. They finished dinner, and she drew him back to the couch. “Is it Amanda?” she asked.
Gibbs was shocked out of the memory he had been replaying. The destruction of a whole village, women and children included, by the latest target through his rifle scope. If only he had gotten the orders to eliminate the target before those people had been killed…. “Is what Amanda?” he genuinely didn’t know what Andrea was asking for a moment.
“The trouble in your eyes, Jethro. You’ve gone to your unhappy place again. Is it because of the baby? And your daughter?” Amanda hesitated to mention his loss.
“No, Andie, no,” Gibbs breathed and drew her into his arms. He had held her before, but there was something new in his embrace tonight. Desperation, need, she didn’t really have to name it. “I love Amanda. I would walk through fire for the two of you. Sometimes, on a bad mission, you are the one thing that keeps me sane.” His eyes darkened and he breathed softly against her lips. Any tiny movement would bring their mouths together and change their relationship. He left the decision in her hands, and she made it.
She closed the distance and brushed her lips against his. She slid her hands up his muscled chest and wrapped them around his shoulders. Angling her head, she deepened the kiss, coaxing his lips open. At the first touch of her tongue, he came alive, pulling her onto his lap and threading the fingers of one hand through her hair.
That had been the turning point for them. She had taken him to her bed that night, and they had filled the empty spaces in each other’s lives. She erased the haunted look in his eyes, made him laugh, called him “J " because ‘Jethro’ is too much to be screaming out at the top of my lungs.” He erased her fear of depending on another person, let her know he could be counted on to be there when she needed him " and when she didn’t.
All this played in Andrea’s mind as she drove through the quiet D.C. night with Gibbs at her side. By the time they pulled into his driveway, her skin was hypersensitive and she was having trouble taking a deep breath. Gibbs hadn’t been lying when he insisted he was sober enough to drive, and spent the drive focusing on the woman at his side. He noticed the hitch in her breath and caught her hand when she reached to turn off the car.
“We can still turn around, Andie.” He offered the out. “I can take you home, then I can drive myself back here. I’m not pushing here.”
She took a shaky breath and turned the car off. “I’m not having second thoughts, J. I want this so bad I can taste it. Taste you on the back of my tongue like the sweetest memory of my life. I want you. Tonight. Now.”
He reached up and cupped the back of her head, drawing her to him. He barely touched his lips to hers, then whispered into her mouth, “I was hoping you’d say that.” He released her and turned quickly, exiting the car. She was just gathering her senses again when he opened her door. She handed him the keys, and he handed her out of the car. The skirt that had caught his attention in her office earlier parted, offering him a long glimpse of thigh. Stockings. Oh, God, he thought, give me the patience.
The walked up to the front door and he unlocked it. Before she could enter the house, he took her arm once more. “Last chance, Andie,” he warned. She molded her body to him, and plastered a kiss to his mouth. “Last chance, J,” she whispered.
He growled into her mouth and walked her backwards into the house. She kicked her high heels off just inside the door, which he shoved closed and locked blindly. He dropped the keys and grabbed her hips, pulling her body into his.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Learn the backstory between Gibbs and Andrea. Gets racy toward the end.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for the yummy feedback! It's like a Caf-Pow to the heart.