Stillwater

Chapter 7: Sunrise Surprise

You finally set the chisel down, running a hand through your hair, feeling a little lightheaded from both the work and… well, Gibbs.

He stepped closer, voice low and steady, completely different from the playful teasing in the basement. “That’s enough for tonight.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Already? I thought you were going to make me like I don’t know polish the entire thing.”

He gave the faintest smirk, that subtle, confident tilt of the lips that always made your pulse skip. “Not tonight. Let’s get you some sleep. You’re probably more tired than you think you are.”

You blinked, realizing he was right between the day’s chaos, the case, and everything else, exhaustion was creeping in faster than you wanted to admit.

“Sleep, huh?” you murmured, half-teasing. “And here I thought the night was just getting interesting.”

He stepped even closer, calm, sure, protective, and tilted his head. “Interesting can wait. Rest can’t.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You really know how to boss someone around, don’t you?”

“I’m not bossing,” he said quietly, eyes scanning yours. “I’m making sure you’re safe. And rested. That’s different.”

You felt the weight behind his words, not threatening, not overbearing just solid, unwavering.

“Alright,” you said, surrendering with a small grin. “Lead the way, Gibbs.”

He didn’t comment on the joke. Instead, he moved toward the stairs, gesturing for you to follow. “Upstairs. Come on.”

You followed, letting him guide you.

For the first time in hours, you let yourself fully relax. And as you climbed the stairs behind him, you realized that even in this crazy, dangerous situation, didn’t feel like that because being here… with him… felt like the safest place you could be.

The next morning sunlight filtered softly through the kitchen window as you padded in, half-asleep yourself but determined. You’d promised yourself you’d make breakfast coffee, something warm, maybe even something edible.

As you moved around, carefully pulling ingredients from the cupboards, you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye: Gibbs, sprawled on the couch, perfectly at ease, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm.

You paused, smiling softly. “Of course he’d take the couch,” you muttered to yourself.

Tiptoeing well, as quietly as one could tiptoe in a kitchen full of pots and pans, you started working. Eggs sizzled, coffee dripped, and you tried to focus on the chopping and stirring, thinking you were utterly silent.

Until it wasn’t.

A sudden, warm pressure wrapped around your waist, arms firm but gentle. You jumped, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Ahhh!” you yelped, spinning around,

Gibbs’ arms immediately slid away, letting you breathe. He stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender, a cheeky grin tugging at his mouth.

“I’m just getting coffee,” he said calmly, moving toward the counter.

You blinked at him, trying to steady your racing heart while the warmth of his presence lingered. “You scared the absolute shit out of me.”

He looked over his shoulder, that grin still teasing, confident, and just a little bit smug. “You should know by now fear keeps you alert. Also, breakfast smells amazing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile. “Yeah, well, next time… ah I don’t know make some noise.”

He chuckled, pouring the coffee with slow, deliberate movements, glancing back at you once. “Noted.”

And as he worked, moving effortlessly around the kitchen, you realized quiet, sleepy mornings like this, Gibbs at his most casual, might just be your new favorite kind of chaos.

You slid a plate of eggs onto the table, steam curling upward, and set a mug of coffee next to it. Gibbs was leaning against the counter, hands wrapped around his own mug, watching you with that unreadable, steady gaze that somehow made your heart speed up.

“So,” you began, trying to keep your voice casual, “you really didn’t have to take the couch last night?”

He glanced at you briefly, voice clipped but calm. “Don’t worry, about it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry?” you repeated, smirk tugging at your lips. “You woke up on the couch instead of a bed in your own home. That seems… well like something to worry about”

Gibbs gave a faint shrug, sipping his coffee, still calm. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?” you echoed, confused and teasing at the same time. “You sleep on the couch every night?”

He met your gaze, deadpan. “Most nights.”

You blinked, then laughed softly, shaking your head. “You really didn’t have to take the couch. I would’ve…” you paused, a grin spreading across your face, “I would’ve happily taken it.”

He gave a slow, deliberate smirk, leaning slightly closer. “Noted.”

You rolled your eyes, stirring your eggs absentmindedly. “I mean, it’s fine, obviously. But next time… you could just let me take it.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice low, teasing, that same calm confidence in every syllable. “Or maybe I’ll make you fight me for it.”

“Oh, I would,” you said instantly, grinning. “My momma raised me to have proper manners, so I will fight you to be respectful.”

He chuckled softly, that rare, quiet laugh that made the room feel warmer, more intimate. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 6: Basement Tour

The last echoes of Tony and Abby faded up the stairs, leaving just you and Gibbs in the warm quiet of the house.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to disappear into some side room and leave the basement mystery for another day.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “You wanted a tour,” he said, calm, controlled. His voice carried that faint confidence, the kind that made people lean in without realizing it.

You raised a brow. “I said basement tour. I didn’t know it came with you as a guide.”

His lips twitched just enough to suggest he knew the effect he had. “That’s part of the experience.”

He gestured toward the stairs leading down. “After you.”

You stepped forward, the wooden steps creaking under your weight. The basement was cozy in a practical way rows of shelves with books, boxes, neatly stacked gear, and of course… the boat. A large vessel sat in the center of the room, unfinished: rough wood, sanded sections, clamps still holding pieces together.

You let out a soft whistle. “Wow. That’s… impressive. Ducky wasn’t kidding.”

Gibbs stayed close, not hovering, just subtly guiding, his presence enough that you felt noticed, not crowded.

“Impressive?” he asked, arching a brow. “For someone who handles rare knowledge for a living, you seem… easily impressed.”

You smirked. “I handle rare knowledge. Unfinished boats? Not usually my thing.”

He stepped around the boat, motioning toward a small workbench. “Then I’ll consider this an introduction to a new hobby.”

You laughed softly. “A new hobby, huh? And what does it entail? Dusting? Polishing? Hours of staring at wood?

He picked up a chisel and handed it to you, his hand brushing yours lightly. “Some polishing,” he said. Then, his voice dropped just slightly, calm and confident, low enough that you noticed. “Mostly observation… and guidance.”

You blinked, surprised, and a little thrilled, by the weight behind those words.

Gibbs stepped close behind you, steadying your hand on the chisel. “Hold it here. Apply pressure there. Watch the grain it tells you what it wants.”

You followed his lead, letting him guide your movements as the wood slowly began to take shape under your hands. The heat of him so close, the smell of sawdust and polish, the quiet focus between the two of you… it was all dizzyingly intimate.

“Observation… and guidance,” you murmured, echoing his words, letting the teasing roll off your tongue. “Sounds suspiciously like your specialty.”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stayed behind you, hands lightly brushing yours when needed, voice occasionally giving quiet pointers. Confident. Suave. In control. And undeniably aware of the chemistry humming between you.

For a moment, nothing else existed just the unfinished boat, the soft scrape of wood against chisel, and the way Gibbs’ presence made your heart skip without a single word of explanation.

You held the chisel, trying to follow his guidance, while Gibbs moved behind you, steadying your hand.

“Not quite,” he murmured. “A little more pressure here… no, not that angle, feel the grain.”

“Oh, so now the wood tells me what to do?” you shot back, smirking. “I thought you were supposed to be the teacher.”

“I am the teacher,” he said, calm, clipped. “And I’m telling you this isn’t how it’s done.”

You tilted your head, mock serious. “Well, Teacher Gibbs, maybe I like doing it wrong. Makes it… interesting.”

He let out the faintest chuckle, moving closer. “Interesting, huh? I’ve seen this ‘interesting’ before. Doesn’t always end well.”

You laughed softly, teasing, keeping your hand steady. “Oh, I think I can handle it.”

“You think,” he said, voice low, almost dangerous. “Not convinced.”

“Yet,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ve got room to be convinced.”

The words hung between you, playful, teasing, a little daring.

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment he stopped teaching. Just stared. Quietly. His gaze slid down briefly to your lips, slow, deliberate.

And then, in that low, confident voice that made the hair on your arms stand on end:

“Oh I don’t need to convince you, of anything”

The words hung in the air for barely a beat before he leaned in, and his lips met yours, sure, and confident.

You gasped softly against him, and for a moment, the basement, the wood, the chisel, everything faded. It was just the two of you, caught in the quiet, electric weight of the kiss.

When he pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against yours, he murmured:

“Now… back to work.”

You blinked, laughing softly, heart racing. “You’re impossible.”

He smirked faintly, picking up the chisel again. “I know.”

Chapter 5: Under His Roof

The ride from NCIS was quiet, but heavy. Tony, predictably, couldn’t hold back. “So… you’re taking Y/N home. Not a hotel. Not a safehouse. Home. Boss, I’d like to say I’m surprised but this is not new.”

Gibbs didn’t answer. He never did. He just kept his hands steady on the wheel, eyes on the road.

“Relax, Tony,” you said, deadpan. “Apparently, I’ve been upgraded to VIP.”

Tony laughed sharp, nervous. “Yeah, careful. That sounds exactly like a precursor to danger.”

You smirked. “It’s fine. I like the view of the road.”

Gibbs’ eyes flicked to you in the rearview mirror. You caught the corner of that ever-present confidence: calm, controlled, absolutely in charge.

“Do you always talk when people are driving?” he asked, voice low, clipped.

“Only when I want to make sure they’re paying attention,” you replied lightly.

That earned the faintest tilt of his mouth. Not a smile never a smile but enough that you felt it anyway.

The car pulled into the driveway, the house quiet and solid against the late afternoon sun. Gibbs killed the engine, unbuckled, and stepped out first, circling to open your door.

You followed, stepping onto the gravel with a careful glance around. Nothing. Safe. For now.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of pine cleaner and old leather. Gibbs’ home was surprisingly… lived-in. Not cold, not sterile, but purposeful. Every item seemed placed for function, comfort, or memory.

He gestured toward the stairs. “You’ll sleep upstairs.”

“Good to know,” you said. Then, with a teasing edge, “But I assume the basement tour is non-negotiable?”

His eyes flicked toward you, calm, unreadable. “If you want it. But follow instructions first.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Instructions, huh? And what might those be?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. You followed, curious, letting your fingers brush over the sturdy wooden railing. You couldn’t help but think of Ducky’s mention of the basement, the boat.

“Careful,” Gibbs said quietly, as if reading your thoughts. “Most people don’t get down there.”

You smirked. “I’m not most people.”

He didn’t respond just left it hanging as he grabbed a coffee mug for himself. The unspoken understanding between you stretched the room tight.

“Coffee?” Gibbs offered, holding the mug toward you. Not a question. A statement.

“Sure,” you said, taking it. And in that small, quiet exchange, the world outside danger, threats, rogue units felt just a fraction more manageable.

Chapter 4: Under Control

The moment you stepped outside, Gibbs steered you toward the government sedan like he’d already mapped every possible threat radius in a five-mile radius. Tony jogged ahead, yanked the back door open, and gestured dramatically.

“Your chariot awaits. Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and refrain from any witty commentary that could distract the driver, who is already cranky.”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs warned.

Tony slid into the passenger seat immediately.

You climbed into the back, and Gibbs shut your door himself before rounding the hood with that purposeful stride he had. The kind that said don’t question me, I know exactly what I’m doing.

A second later he was behind the wheel, engine starting with a low growl.

For the first mile, nobody spoke.

Gibbs kept his eyes on the road, jaw set, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift—relaxed but alert. Tony kept glancing back at you like he expected you to suddenly faint or explode.

Finally, you broke the silence. “So. Now that I’ve been forcibly extracted from my office… what exactly did your guy find?”

Tony twisted in his seat, face serious now. “He hacked into a closed server connected to your old project. Left a message.”

Your pulse quickened. “A message?”

Gibbs answered, voice low. “Your initials. Timestamped. Same hour you were at headquarters with us.”

You felt the air tighten. “Meaning he knew where I was.”

“Meaning,” Gibbs said, giving you a brief look in the rearview, “he’s tracking you.”

You sat back, absorbing that. A second passed. Then another.

“Well,” you murmured, “that’s not ideal.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, understatement of the year.”

Gibbs cut his eyes toward him. “DiNozzo.”

“What? It is!”

Gibbs ignored him and focused on you again only this time, the intensity was sharper. Warmer. Protective in that way he never verbalized.

You leaned slightly forward. “You really think this guy is dangerous enough to warrant… all this?”

“I don’t think,” Gibbs said. “I know.”

That confidence steady, grounded, absolute sent a strange thrill through you. Because Gibbs didn’t do reassurances. He didn’t comfort. He protected. Period.

Tony jumped in again. “And for the record, we are not overreacting. Anyone who studies Ward’s old methodologies isn’t exactly a casual hobbyist. This guy is smart, obsessed, and way too close for comfort.”

You chuckle “Aww, DiNozzo you read my paper” You smile. “Okay. Then what’s the plan?”

Gibbs shifted gears. “We brief the team. Get you to a secure location. And you don’t go anywhere alone.”

You raised a brow. “Is that an actual rule or another one of your ‘facts’?”

Gibbs glanced at you in the mirror again, eyes steady. “You can take it however you want. As long as you listen.”

You opened your mouth to argue—habit, really—but stopped. Something in his tone wasn’t order, wasn’t suggestion. It was concern wrapped in sandpaper.

And strangely, it made you feel safer than you wanted to admit.

Tony clicked his seatbelt. “We’ll get him, you know.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Gibbs didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

The elevator doors slid open and the bullpen noise dipped just enough for the team to clock the look on Gibbs’ face. That alone sobered everyone instantly.

Abby practically materialized out of nowhere, eyes big and worried.

“Okay what happened? Because Gibbs has his ‘someone’s about to have a very bad day’ walk.”

Tony pointed at you like you were exhibit A. “Our suspect pulled Y/N’s name.”

“What?” Abby gasped, grabbing your hands. “No, nope, unacceptable. I forbid it.”

McGee stood up from his desk, jaw tight. “How did he find you?”

You opened your mouth, but Gibbs cut in with a tone that allowed zero discussion:

“DiNozzo. McGee. With her. Now.”

Then he jerked his head toward the stairs and strode off toward the director’s office, not even checking if anyone followed. He didn’t have to people just moved when Gibbs was in that mode.

Tony gave you a sympathetic wince. “He’s about to go demand a personal protection assignment, isn’t he?”

Abby nodded rapidly. “Oh yeah. Yup. He’s in Full Gibbs mode.”

McGee lowered his voice. “Gibbs doesn’t ask for protection detail privileges. He claims them.”

Abby tugged you closer, inspecting you like she expected to find bullet holes. “Are you okay? Are you scared? You don’t look scared, which is impressive but also slightly concerning.”

You gave a small laugh. “I’m… processing.”

“That’s normal,” McGee said. “Well. Normal for us.”

Tony leaned on his desk with faux-casual seriousness. “Look, you’re under our roof now. We take care of our own. Even the unofficial ones.”

Abby hugged you so suddenly your feet left the ground. “And you’re definitely one of ours.”

You steadied yourself as she set you down, warmth filling your chest despite the situation.

Before you could respond, you heard the muffled sound of Gibbs’ voice firm, relentless filtering down from Vance’s office. No words, just the tone. The Gibbs tone.

Tony smirked. “He’s negotiating.”

McGee corrected gently, “He’s bulldozing.”

Abby clasped her hands. “He’s protecting.”

Gibbs reappeared in the bullpen a few minutes later, purposeful as ever, and the team straightened automatically. He didn’t even glance at Tony before speaking.

“Everything’s going to be under control,” he said, voice calm but firm.

Abby immediately perked up, hands on her hips, a grin teasing the edge of her face.

“Oh, so that means you’re actually going to lock your doors tonight for once, Boss?” she chirped.

Gibbs’ jaw didn’t twitch, but Tony snorted.

You leaned against a desk, raising an eyebrow. “Wait…so what does ‘under control’ mean in plain English?”

Gibbs shot you a quick glance, sharp but unreadable.

“I’m taking you to my house. Safe until we figure this out.”

You smirked, leaning back just enough to tease. “Oh, so you’ll give me the grand tour of the infamous basement, then?”

Gibbs’ eyes flicked to you. Flat, unreadable, but the corner of his mouth almost threatened a twitch.

“Ducky mentioned it,” you added lightly, “that it’s… unique.”

Gibbs didn’t comment. Just turned, gesturing for you to follow.

You cast a quick glance back at the team. Tony was already fidgeting with his chair, Abby bouncing with excitement, and McGee giving you a small, worried smile.

“Keep up,” Gibbs said, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“I’ll do my best,” you replied, with just the tiniest grin.

Chapter 3: You could’ve knocked

You’d forgotten how much you’d missed Abby’s energy.

Now, back in your own quiet office, the memory of her excited rambling made you smile. She hadn’t changed at all, still a walking caffeine storm with pigtails, hugs, and forensic magic.

And Ducky… well, Ducky was Ducky. Gentle, sharp as ever, the kind of person whose kindness didn’t soften his brilliance but sharpened it. Seeing him again had felt like stepping into a familiar library, warm, safe, full of old stories whispered between the lines.

You exhaled softly and slid another file onto the stack forming at the edge of your desk. Different case, different world, same chaos. You started rearranging folders, color-coding because it helped you think, when the door to your office suddenly slam-opened hard enough to rattle the glass in the frame.

You jerked your head up.

Gibbs barreled in first, Tony right behind him, both looking like they’d sprinted straight through a wall to get here. Worry was written across their faces so clearly it might as well have been bolded.

You blinked at them.

“You could’ve knocked.”

Gibbs didn’t even pretend to smile.

Tony shut the door behind him with a thud, locking it.

That’s when your stomach dropped.

Because whatever this was?

It wasn’t a social call.

Gibbs stepped farther into the office, eyes sweeping the room like he expected someone to jump out of a filing cabinet.

“Pack a bag,” he said. No preamble. No explanation. Classic.

You raised a brow. “Hello to you too.”

Tony winced. “Not really a greeting kind of situation.”

Your heartbeat kicked up, but you kept your expression steady. “What happened?”

Gibbs met your eyes, direct, unblinking. “Our suspect pulled your name.”

That stopped you cold. “My name?”

“Your research notes,” Tony added, softer. “Your old work on Ward’s team profiles. He knew you were the one who spotted the deviation.”

Gibbs moved closer, close enough that you could smell coffee and sawdust and that aftershave he pretended not to wear. He lowered his voice, but it didn’t soften the steel in it.

“You’re not safe here.”

You swallowed. “And you two just decided to break down my door about it?”

Tony pointed at Gibbs. “He decided. I just followed the human battering ram.”

Gibbs shot him a look. Tony shut up instantly.

Then Gibbs’ attention came back to you, sharp, assessing, something else flickering behind it. Something that made your chest tighten.

“We’re taking you somewhere secure,” he said.

You gave a half-smile. “Is that an order?”

His mouth tugged in the smallest hint of amusement. “Wouldn’t bother issuing an order you weren’t going to follow.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Not a challenge,” he said, stepping just close enough to tilt your chin up with his gaze alone. “A fact.”

Your breath hitched.

Tony loudly cleared his throat. “Okay! Wow. So, anyway, uh danger, running, packing, moving on.”

You broke eye contact first, mostly because if you didn’t you were pretty sure your knees would betray you.

You grabbed your laptop and a stack of files. “Fine. Just tell me what we’re dealing with.”

Gibbs took the files from your hands without asking. “I will,” he said. “In the car.”

“Car?” you echoed.

“We’re leaving now.”

Tony opened your office door again, peering into the hallway before waving you through. “Come on. Boss is in full caveman-protective mode.”

Gibbs shot him his second glare of the afternoon.

Tony froze. “Shutting up.”

As you stepped out of the office between them, you felt it, the shift. The danger. The tension. The unspoken promise that whatever came next, you weren’t facing it alone.

And under all of that…

Gibbs’ hand brushed your lower back, guiding you forward.

Just for a moment.

Chapter 2: The Ghosts of Three

The conference room felt too bright for the kind of history you were about to unpack.

Gibbs closed the door behind the team with a soft click, the kind that said this matters. He didn’t sit. He just folded his arms and watched you take your place at the front of the room, your worn binder resting on the table like it had been waiting for this case longer than any of them had been alive.

Tony slumped into a chair with exaggerated anticipation. McGee opened a fresh notepad. Abby bounced once before perching on the edge of the table. Ducky stood off to the side, hands folded like he was introducing an old story he knew by heart.

You exhaled, steady and composed.

“The original intel unit was… complicated,” you begin, pacing slowly in front of the conference table. “But the splinter group? They were built around three people.”

You hold up three fingers.

“Commander Elias Ward.

Lieutenant Mara Kessler.

And Specialist Jonah Bryce.”

Tony tilts his head. “Those names mean something to you.”

“They should mean something to everyone.” You inhale. “They were brilliant. Ward was the strategist, a man who could see ten moves ahead. Kessler was the codebreaker. She didn’t just crack ciphers; she rewrote them. And Bryce… Bryce remembered everything he ever saw. People said he had a photographic memory, but it was more than that. He could recall a conversation from seven years earlier word for word.”

Gibbs subtly reacts to that a tightening of his jaw, a flicker of interest.

You notice.

“They were loyal,” you continue softly. “Loyal to each other before anything else. And that’s where things went wrong.”

McGee leans forward. “What happened?”

You close the binder. “Someone higher up tried to disband their unit. Shut down their research, bury their findings. They’d uncovered things they weren’t supposed to, assignments that were never authorized, failures that would’ve embarrassed half the Pentagon.”

Tony whistles. “And they didn’t take that well, I’m guessing.”

“They didn’t take it at all.” You meet his eyes. “Ward led them off the books. He believed the truth didn’t belong locked in classified vaults. He thought he could protect people from the fallout better than the Navy could.”

Abby grips the edge of the table. “So they just… left?”

“Left,” you confirm. “And kept collecting. Secrets. Names. Documents. Evidence. They built their own shadow archive of things no one wanted to exist.”

Gibbs speaks quietly, more to you than the room:

“And nobody stopped them?”

“They tried,” you say. “But the three of them were too smart, too unpredictable… and too loyal to each other to betray the group.”

Ducky, who’s been quiet until now, murmurs,

“Some units are built on orders. Others are built on people.”

You nod. “Exactly.”

Tony folds his arms. “So what happened to Ward, Kessler, and Bryce?”

“They disappeared,” you say. “Or they went underground. Last trace was the late seventies.”

Abby’s voice drops. “And you think… whoever killed our victim… is connected to them?”

You look at Gibbs, because he’s the one you know will actually hear it.

“I don’t think they’re connected, Agent Gibbs,” you say softly. “I think someone is continuing their work.”

Gibbs holds your gaze for a long, loaded moment.

Then he says:

“Show us where to start.”

You slid the last page of your notes across the table. The room had gone still again less tense than before, more… settling. Like the team was finally starting to see the full outline of the threat.

Tony let out a low whistle. “So it is a new guy. A copycat of the splinter unit, not a surviving member.”

“Not a copycat,” you corrected, packing up your binder. “More like someone studying Ward’s old work the way a med student studies anatomy. Not the same, but close enough to be dangerous.”

McGee nodded thoughtfully. “We wouldn’t have spotted the deviation without you.”

Abby beamed. “Yeah! You saved us weeks of chasing ghosts!”

You shrugged, a little bashful. “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

Ducky stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder, one of those wordless gestures only he could get away with.

“My dear, you’ve given us the clarity we needed. And more importantly, you’ve steered us away from the wrong conclusion entirely. That is no small contribution.”

You smiled at him. “Happy to help.”

And honestly, you meant it. Even if your part was mostly done now.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “So this is the part where you disappear back into your mysterious job and leave us with piles of evidence to sift through?”

You chuckled. “Pretty much.”

Abby pouted dramatically. “Nooo. I liked having you here. You’re fun. And smart. Sometimes around here we only get one of those at a time.”

“Hey!” Tony protested.

Gibbs hadn’t said a word in a while. You felt him before you saw him, his quiet steadiness, the way he lingered near the door, watching you with that unreadable, assessing expression.

When you moved to leave, he stepped aside, but only just enough.

“Good work,” he said. Simple. Graveled. Weighted.

You held his gaze. “Glad I could help. Looks like you’ve got it from here.”

Gibbs shook his head slow, deliberate. “We wouldn’t be this far without you.”

The words were simple, but the weight behind them made your breath catch.

“That’s… kind of you to say,” you managed.

“Not kindness.” His eyes stayed steady on yours. “Just the truth.”

It wasn’t praise. It wasn’t goodbye. It was… something in between. Something you felt more than understood.

You cleared your throat. “Well. If you need more history background, you know where to find me.”

Gibbs nodded once. “I do.”

You slipped past him, the faintest brush of shoulders, and headed toward the elevator. When you glanced back, the whole team was already shifting into motion talking, planning, dividing tasks.

But Gibbs was still watching you.

You offered him a small, brief smile.

He returned something that wasn’t quite a smile back.

Chapter 1: Quite Extraordinary

Ducky adjusts his glasses, staring at the carved symbols on the victim’s torso.

Tony and McGee stand behind him, waiting for the explanation.

But Ducky goes pale.

“Doctor?” McGee asks.

Ducky doesn’t answer.

Instead, he picks up the phone, dials an internal number, and waits.

“Jethro,” he says softly when Gibbs answers.

“I need you in Autopsy immediately.”

Gibbs arrives minutes later, expression locked.

“What is it, Duck?”

Ducky steps aside to show the symbols.

Gibbs studies them.

“Some kind of code?”

“Yes. A very old one. One used by a Navy intelligence sub-unit established in 1953.

Defunct now. Buried, I believe intentionally.”

Tony raises an eyebrow.

“How would anyone even know that?”

Ducky exhales.

“There is… this archivist I know. This is old and hidden stuff but if anyone would know it would be them”

Gibbs crosses his arms.

“Name.”

Ducky meets his eyes, voice quiet and grave.

“Y/N L/N.”

Gibbs frowns.

“Never heard of them.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

Ducky closes the victim’s cover.

“But I assure you, they are quite extraordinary.”

The bullpen is unusually quiet for mid-afternoon. Tony is perched on McGee’s desk like a gargoyle, waiting for the mysterious consultant. McGee pretends not to be curious, but he keeps glancing toward the elevator.

Gibbs stands at his desk, arms folded, eyes fixed on the elevator doors like he can will them open.

They ding.

You step out.

Calm. Composed. A backpack slung over one shoulder, a rolled sleeve showing a faint ink smudge from whatever document you were digging through when NCIS called. You scan the room the way a historian scans a battlefield, quietly, but with full understanding.

Tony hops off the desk. “This is them? This is the Y/N L/N? Ducky made it sound like we were calling the librarian of the universe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Funny. You’re exactly how Ducky described you.”

McGee snorts. Tony’s face twists in offended confusion.

Gibbs’ mouth twitches, almost a smile, as he steps forward.

“Gibbs,” he says, offering a hand.

“Y/N,” you reply, shaking it firmly. He notices: your grip is steady, your eyes sharper than expected, and you don’t shrink under his stare the way some consultants do.

“Ducky says you can help us with our victim,” Gibbs says.

You set your backpack on the nearest desk and unzip it without ceremony. “Then let’s see what you’ve got.”

Tony leans in toward McGee. “She didn’t even say hello to me.”

“She got your personality from a single glance,” McGee whispers back. “Honestly? Impressive.”

You pull out a battered leather binder, well-used, pages thick with notes and cross-references.

Abby bursts from the elevator right then, energy and pigtails bouncing. “Y/N! Oh my gosh! you’re here!” She runs over and hugs you like an old friend.

Gibbs blinks. “You two know each other?”

“She’s helped me with obscure forensic sigils twice,” Abby explains, still hugging you. “Did you know she once found the origin of a chemical symbol used in a Cold War bunker? The woman is magic.”

You pat Abby’s arm, amused. “I just read too much.”

“Same thing!” Abby beams.

Gibbs taps the evidence photos clipped to the murder board. “These are what Ducky showed you.”

You step forward, eyes narrowing as you study the carved symbols. Your breathing stills. The room goes silent around you, Tony and McGee hovering behind, Abby at your shoulder, Gibbs watching you like a test he knows you’ll pass.

You lift a finger, hovering inches from one of the photos.

“These aren’t just markings,” you say softly. “They’re identifiers.”

Tony frowns. “Identifiers for what? A cult?”

You shake your head. “No. A unit.”

McGee’s eyes widen. “But that unit Ducky mentioned didn’t it dissolve in the sixties?”

“Officially,” you say. “This symbol here…” you point again “means the victim knew something. Or saw something. Something the unit didn’t want resurfacing.”

Gibbs steps closer. “What?”

You turn to him fully for the first time. He’s intense, focused, waiting for truth. You realize why Ducky trusts him.

You swallow once.

“Something that should’ve stayed buried, Agent Gibbs.”

A beat.

Then Gibbs says quietly:

Chapter 16: The Final Wall

The silence in the hotel room was deafening. The air felt thick, charged with everything that had been left unsaid. You sat across from Gibbs, his expression unreadable, his hands still on the bed as if the weight of the situation had him tethered in place.

You wanted to scream, to ask him what the hell that kiss had been about. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt something shift within you a growing frustration, and beneath that, a kind of desperation. You weren’t going to let this drag on without answers. Not anymore.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “We need to talk,” you repeated, but this time your voice was stronger.

Gibbs finally spoke, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Yeah, I figured. Wasn’t exactly planning on ignoring it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, the anger from the night before bubbling back up. “Then why haven’t you said anything? Why did you just let it happen?”

He flinched slightly at your words but didn’t shy away from your gaze. “I wasn’t ready for it either.”

You stood up, pacing the room. You had to get away from him, to gather your thoughts. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us. But we’re not pretending like nothing happened. We kissed, Gibbs. What are we doing here?”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion almost like a reflex. He was clearly struggling with how to respond. Finally, he looked at you again, his eyes intense, searching for the right words. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but I do know one thing.”

You stopped pacing, staring at him. “What’s that?”

“We’re not pretending anymore,” he said, his voice low, almost too calm. “That kiss wasn’t part of the mission, and I’m not going to sit here and act like it was.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the rush of what that admission meant. “Then what are you saying?”

There was a long pause, where neither of you spoke, just stared at each other, as if you were both waiting for the other to make the next move. Gibbs finally stood up, the air between you thick with anticipation.

He walked toward you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m saying that maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re not both feeling something.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. His proximity was overwhelming now, every step he took closer sending a wave of heat through your body. You wanted to back away, to put up your walls again, but the truth was you didn’t want to.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

But admitting that was a whole other thing.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “And if we do… what then? What happens after?” You added, your voice sharp. “Because I think you’re forgetting the whole lapse in trust on your end that started this. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for the whole ‘seeing if I was a mole’ thing.”

His face tightened at the mention of the investigation. For a moment, you saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. But then, with the same level-headed calm, he sighed. “Okay, I get that. But let’s table that for a second because I’m being open here, and you know how rare that is.” He ran a hand through his hair again, his jaw tight, frustration flashing briefly across his face.

You stared at him, feeling your own frustration bubble to the surface, but you held your ground. He had a point. He was being open. But that didn’t mean you were ready to forgive him yet.

Gibbs took another step closer, and this time, his voice softened. “I get it. I do. But if we’re going to do this, whatever this is you’re going to have to stop holding that over my head every time we talk.” He looked at you, his eyes softening, his words taking on a quieter tone. “I know I screwed up. I didn’t trust you. And that’s on me. But I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking you to move forward. Because I can’t do this if we’re always stuck in the past.”

Your chest tightened. His words hit harder than you expected. Gibbs was one of the most guarded men you’d ever met. And for him to admit that? To own up to his mistakes? That was rare.

But was it enough?

You crossed your arms, looking down for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “I don’t know if I can just let it go, Gibbs,” you murmured, your voice low. “You broke my trust. That’s not something you just get over. Not for me.”

There was a long silence. Gibbs didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching you with those searching eyes, like he was waiting for you to figure it out.

You could feel your pulse racing, but there was something else there, too. Something deeper. Something that told you maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as ready to push him away as you thought you were.

Finally, you sighed and looked up at him, meeting his gaze head-on. “I don’t know where we go from here, Gibbs.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out slowly, as if testing the waters. His hand hovered for a moment, then gently brushed against your arm. “We go forward,” he said softly, “and we figure it out as we go. Together.”

Your breath hitched at the warmth of his touch. You could feel his fingers lingering on your skin, and you realized you were both standing closer now, the air between you crackling with tension.

He then lightly chuckles, “I mean we could always start with it’s Jethro”

Finally, you took a breath, steadying yourself. “Okay, Jethro” you said, your voice firmer than you felt. “Let’s see where this goes.”

And before you knew it, Gibbs’s lips were on yours again, this time with a sense of urgency that matched the beating of your heart. It was deeper, longer, and somehow more real than the kiss at the reception.

When you pulled away, you both stood there, your foreheads touching, breath mingling. Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the beating of your hearts, synchronizing in the quiet, weighty silence that followed.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. It was just the two of you. And for the first time, you both seemed ready to face whatever came next, together.

You pulled back slightly, your heart still racing, and for a split second, all you could think about was the mess you were in. Then it hit you.

“Oh wait, the mission. What’s going on with that?” you asked, your voice a little breathless from the kiss, but the realization hitting hard. The mission had been the reason for all the tension. The reason you’d been acting like this.

Gibbs gave a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair, his expression almost playful now. “Yeah, I just found out from Vance…” He leaned in a bit, as if telling a secret. ”…it was a wild goose chase.”

Chapter 15: The Moment Before

The night had fallen, and the ballroom was alive with chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic hum of a string quartet playing softly in the corner. You and Gibbs stood just inside the entrance, your eyes sweeping over the crowd, noting every detail the guests milling about, the security, the subtle glances cast in your direction. Your cover as a married couple was already in place; all you had to do was blend in and play the part.

You had been pretending to be a couple for days now, but standing here, in this lavish ballroom, it felt more real than you could have ever expected. It wasn’t the extravagance of the event or the guests that made it feel strange; it was the way Gibbs stood next to you, a glass of champagne in hand, his expression unreadable, but the way his arm brushed against yours every time you moved.

You shifted your weight, trying to get comfortable in the form-fitting dress that had you feeling more exposed than usual, but you didn’t let it show. You didn’t want to make it obvious that this whole situation this whole fake relationship was rattling you. No, you had a job to do, and you were going to do it with precision.

Gibbs glanced at you, his eyes scanning the room, but there was something different in his gaze tonight. His usual gruffness had been replaced with a sort of detached focus, but there was also an undeniable energy in the air between you two.

You felt it too the weight of his presence beside you, the warmth of his hand still resting gently on your lower back.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low, barely audible over the hum of conversation around you.

You nodded, your stomach twisting with the mix of nerves and something else you couldn’t name. “Let’s get this over with.”

Gibbs chuckled, a slight, knowing sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always say that.”

“I do not.” You shot him a quick, playful glance, rolling your eyes. “Just like you, I’m just not a fan of these… events. Too many people pretending to care about things that don’t matter.”

“Sounds like you’re bitter.” Gibbs smirked, his voice teasing, but you didn’t miss the way his thumb brushed against your side, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You shot him a sideways glance, your words clipped. “Strong coming from you.”

There was a pause as you both looked at each other, the briefest spark of something passing between you. Neither of you said anything, but you could feel it there was no denying it now. The tension that had been building for months, whilst it had been on a couple months sabbatical was back, the chemistry that neither of you had been able to ignore, was there, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Gibbs’s eyes flicked to something behind you, his posture shifting slightly as he nodded. “We’ll talk later. Work first.”

You nodded, turning your attention to the room, moving forward through the crowd. You both slipped into your roles as effortlessly as you had fallen into this charade, hands occasionally brushing, small touches that were supposed to look natural fake but they only made things more complicated.

The night stretched on, the mingling becoming more intense as you exchanged pleasantries with the other guests. You had a job to do, and you both knew that. Yet the harder you tried to concentrate on the mission, the more you became aware of him Gibbs standing next to you, the weight of his presence palpable in every moment.

Every time your eyes met, there was something unspoken. A quiet intensity that made your heart race. You could almost feel the shift in the air around you. The fake smiles you exchanged felt too real, too sharp. Too much like a performance.

At some point during the evening, you found yourself at the bar, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass as you sipped your wine, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest.

“How are we doing?” Gibbs’s voice was soft, just behind you, as if he had appeared from nowhere.

You didn’t look at him at first, just stared into the dark liquid swirling in your glass. “You tell me. I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing here.”

There was a pause before he leaned in just a little closer, the scent of his cologne making your head spin. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

You tilted your head slightly, trying to hold onto your composure. You weren’t going to let him get to you. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. I meant about the case”

Gibbs didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel the tension building between you. He was standing so close now, close enough that his breath was warm against your ear. “Well, I think you needed it.”

You finally turned to face him, your eyes meeting his in a charged moment of silence. You hated how much he affected you, how much you wanted to shove the frustration aside and let yourself give in. The truth was, you hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him how much you had wanted this.

The two of you stared at each other, the noise of the reception fading into the background, and for the first time all night, it felt like the world had stopped moving. The air between you was thick with something more than just the charade of a couple.

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment unspoken but undeniable. Your eyes flickered briefly to his lips, then back to his eyes, both of you searching for something neither of you were ready to admit.

The moment stretched on, both of you still and quiet, neither willing to break the silence. The music played on in the background, but the world around you seemed to disappear.

It was in that instant that you felt it

his hand, almost imperceptibly, moving closer to yours.

“You should go check in with the team,” you whispered, your voice betraying the tension you were trying to mask. You had to break the silence, even if it meant putting some distance between you.

Gibbs didn’t respond at first. His gaze didn’t shift away from yours, even as he spoke. “You can handle this. I’ll be right here.”

Your heart raced, and for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was from the mission or something else. You took a step back, your eyes not leaving his as you moved to go mingle again.

But as you turned away, you felt the heat of his gaze burning into your back. The tension between you, so sharp now, so unbearable, pulled at you like a string.

And then, just as you were about to take another step, you heard him “One minute.”

You stopped, frozen, and slowly turned back. The words lingered in the air, thick with meaning.

Before you could say anything, he took a step toward you, closing the distance between you, his body close enough to make your pulse race. His eyes searched yours, and you could feel his breath on your lips, so close, so dangerously close.

Without thinking, you took a step forward, drawn in by the gravity of the moment.

And then it happened.

His lips brushed yours soft, hesitant at first, as if testing the waters, but you were already there, already feeling the pull, the weight of everything you had been denying crashing over you.

For a heartbeat, you didn’t move. The world seemed to collapse around you. Everything your frustration, your anger, your confusion, and even the fake nature of the moment faded away as you both gave in to the chemistry that had been building for months.

But just as you were about to deepen the kiss, there was a sudden noise from behind you a clearing of a throat, a shift in the crowd and everything snapped back into reality.

Chapter 14: The Morning After

You woke up with a groggy confusion, a sense of disorientation creeping in. Something felt off. The quiet hum of the hotel room, the faint rustle of the sheets, the warmth none of it was new. What made it strange was the way your body was pressed so intimately against another.

Gibbs.

You could feel his chest rising and falling behind you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you against him. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t right either not with the tension still hanging between you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck, and it only took a second for your brain to kick in with the realization of just how close you were.

You instinctively shifted, but his arm only tightened around you, his grip seemingly more protective in his sleep. You tried to pull away, but that made him tighten his hold further, like a reflex.

“Gibbs,” you muttered, not wanting to wake him fully. You gave a little squirm, your back pushing against his chest. “You’re crushing me.”

He didn’t respond right away, just let out a low, grumbled sound in his throat, clearly still caught in the remnants of sleep. You shifted again, this time with more purpose, but his arm only pulled you tighter.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep, but unmistakably annoyed.

That was it.

The annoyance, the tension that had simmered beneath your forced closeness, all of it came rushing back in a single wave. You were still angry with him, still frustrated about the investigation, the constant watching. You hated the way he had treated you like you were the one at fault without giving you the chance to defend yourself. And now, here you were, practically locked in his arms, playing at being a couple. It made your blood boil.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you snapped, struggling against him. You could feel his hand on your waist, solid, unmovable. “We’re still doing this?”

His arm shifted just enough for you to feel the slight change in his posture, as if he had barely roused from sleep. “What’s the problem now?” His voice had a rough edge to it.

You let out a sharp exhale, the frustration evident in your voice. “You can’t just—” but before you could finish, he shifted closer, his chest pressing fully against your back, and you were completely immobilized in his hold.

He chuckled, a low, almost mischievous sound, and for a moment, you felt that flicker of annoyance flare up even more.

“You couldn’t just stay asleep, you had to be a light sleeper didn’t you?” You didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in your voice.

His hand slid down to your stomach as if to settle you back into place. “I’m a Marine sniper, remember?” He muttered, as though it explained everything. “I don’t miss anything.”

You blinked, the words catching you off guard. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about your little sniper skills. Should I be worried?” You raised an eyebrow, teasingly.

He didn’t immediately reply, but you could feel the shift in his body, the brief tension before he relaxed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a silent smirk. “Maybe you should be.”

It was impossible not to roll your eyes at him, though the chuckle in your chest bubbled up before you could contain it. You tried to shift again, but Gibbs wasn’t having it. His arms were stronger than you would have thought gripping you as though it was nothing.

That was when you realized: there was no escaping this without making a scene.

You huffed dramatically, trying to free yourself again with a bit more force. “This is ridiculous.” You flung your arm over your eyes, trying to make sense of it all, the entanglement and the frustration. “I swear you’re like a human octopus.”

“Get used to it.” He didn’t sound the least bit concerned as he held you against him.

The worst part? You couldn’t even fully work up the anger to fight him. There was something about his calm, confident presence that… made you forget what you were mad about. And maybe, just maybe, you were enjoying the warmth of him being this close.

But not for long.

You suddenly shoved backward, your body moving with enough force to break his hold. For a brief second, you were free. “Enough of this!” You growled, trying to get out of bed.

But of course, Gibbs was quicker.

Before you could make a move, he grabbed the nearest pillow from the bed and swung it straight at you.

You didn’t see it coming, but you sure as hell felt it. The soft thud of the pillow hitting your side made you gasp, more out of surprise than anything else. The audacity!

“Oh, it’s on,” you muttered under your breath. You grabbed the closest pillow, your own eyes narrowing in playful revenge. “You think you can just—”

You swung the pillow back at him, aiming for his chest, but Gibbs was faster. He sidestepped and knocked it away with his own, the impact sending your pillow spinning to the side.

“Is that all you’ve got?” His voice was taunting now, his grin wide.

You shot him a glare, both of you now sitting up, the bed a battlefield of disheveled sheets and pillows. “Oh, I think you’re underestimating me.”

Before he could respond, you launched yourself at him, swinging the pillow hard, but Gibbs wasn’t caught off guard this time. With surprising agility, he caught your pillow mid-air, tossing it aside and grabbing another.

“You’re not getting away with that,” he said, voice full of mock seriousness. “You’re just making this too easy.”

You went to lunge for another pillow, but this time, he was already in motion. You saw it coming too late. The impact was swift—a direct hit to your shoulder that left you momentarily stunned.

“Gibbs!” you yelped, half-laughing and half-growling in frustration. He was relentless.

“That’s what you get,” he said smugly, raising his pillow like a knight wielding a sword.

You weren’t ready to let him have the last word. You shot forward, swinging your pillow directly at his face. “Not so tough now, are you?”

He ducked just in time, the pillow missing him by mere inches. He grinned, clearly enjoying this more than he had any right to. “I warned you.”

You both swung wildly at each other, laughter escaping with every hit, every dodge, every near miss. The laughter, though still edged with frustration, was light and freeing, something neither of you had felt in a long time. The physical exertion of the fight was almost intoxicating, a reminder that things didn’t always have to be so tense between you.

The fight escalated into a flurry of action, the bed a mess of sheets and pillows as the two of you wrestled for dominance. But as the minutes passed, the initial irritation melted away. You could barely catch your breath, the lightness of the moment making everything else fade into the background.

And then, finally, you collapsed into the bed together, out of breath, surrounded by the aftermath of your ridiculous war. You glanced over at Gibbs, who was still holding his pillow, a glint of victory in his eyes.

“You really think you can beat me?” You said, breathless, leaning back into the pillow, both of you still tangled in the wreckage.

He looked down at you, that damn grin still on his face. “I’d happily welcome a chance to try.”

The laughter from a moment ago died down, but there was something else in the air now—something unspoken. The absurdity of it all, the closeness, the undeniable chemistry. You could feel it between you, but you didn’t know how to name it. Not yet.

Still, despite everything, there was a comfort in it, in the shared laughter and the way you were able to momentarily let go of the tension that had been building for so long.

Chapter 13: Playing the Part

The morning you were assigned the undercover operation, you barely slept. Every time you close your eyes, all you could picture was him. Gibbs. The man you were supposed to act like you were in a relationship with. The man who had, not too long ago, shaken the foundation of your trust. The one who made you feel both furious and helpless all at once. Now, you had to play the role of a happy couple, spending the next few days pretending nothing was wrong. It felt like the worst kind of irony.

Still, you had to push it aside. It was the job, and there wasn’t a choice. Your mind raced with a hundred thoughts how you’d act, what you’d say, what he would do. Every little detail made your stomach twist. But the moment Gibbs arrived at your door, you had to push all of that aside.

When you stepped outside, there he was, leaning against his truck with his arms folded and his usual grim expression. But his eyes met yours as you walked toward him, scanning you, almost assessing. You could feel the tension in the air as if everything between you, unresolved, was hanging just above your heads. The weight of it felt almost suffocating.

“Morning.” His voice was flat. Professional. Nothing more, nothing less.

You managed a tight smile. “You ready to play house, Gibbs?”

He let out a small, dry chuckle. It was brief, but it didn’t go unnoticed. “Just another day at the office, right?” His eyes flicked briefly to the side, his gaze resting on you for a split second longer than it should have, like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t.

You couldn’t decide if that bothered you or not.

The drive to the hotel was, predictably, quiet. Neither of you had much to say, but the atmosphere was thick with something unspoken. The hum of the truck’s engine and the occasional rustling of papers filled the silence, but that only made it more awkward. You weren’t sure if Gibbs was putting up a front or if he was as unsettled as you were. You had no choice but to focus on the task at hand the job, the mission. You could deal with the rest later.

When you arrived at the hotel, it was as elegant as you’d expected modern, sleek, and clearly designed for events like the one you were about to attend. The suite was upscale, complete with sweeping views of the city, but the most important feature in the room was the king-sized bed.

You froze at the sight of it. But there was no surprise. This was the plan, after all. You and Gibbs were supposed to look like the picture-perfect couple for the duration of this undercover mission. The bed was simply part of the act.

Still, the reality of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

“One bed,” you said, crossing your arms and staring at the giant mattress.

Gibbs didn’t even blink, his eyes flicking from you to the bed and back again. “That’s how this works. Remember we’re a couple” His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it, as if he was trying to keep a smirk at bay.

You swallowed hard and pushed your irritation down. “Yeah, I get it.” You didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of it than it was. After all, you were professionals. You both had jobs to do.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. The man was all business, even when you were both pretending to be something you weren’t. “Fine. But I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

Gibbs gave a quick, almost dismissive nod and turned toward the bathroom. “You don’t have to,” he muttered over his shoulder, clearly not willing to engage in any more of this conversation.

You let out a frustrated breath, your mind racing with a hundred things you could say. But you didn’t. It wasn’t worth it.

The day passed in a strange blur of pretending. You both stuck to the plan, acting like the couple you were supposed to be. At the pool, you found yourself slipping into the role more easily than you expected. Maybe it was the way Gibbs kept looking at you, his eyes following your movements when you adjusted your sunglasses, or the way he never quite took his eyes off you when you made small talk. You were both careful with your gestures too careful.

When you caught him glancing at you more than once, you couldn’t stop the teasing tone that slipped into your voice. “What’s the matter, Gibbs? You trying to sneak a peek?”

He glanced at you, his face unreadable. “Not my first time at the pool.” But there was something in his eyes that flickered, something almost… vulnerable.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m just making sure you’re not checking me out. I wouldn’t blame you, but you’re supposed to be pretending to be my boyfriend, not… whatever impersonation of a lovesick teenager this is.”

There was a brief pause, and you could feel the air between you charge. Gibbs shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t back down. “I’m doing my job just fine.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Sure you are.” But you weren’t so sure anymore. Something had shifted. Even when you were in public, pretending to be this perfect couple, the lines between acting and reality were starting to blur. But don’t worry he made sure you knew it was an act by acting like his normal cheery self when alone.

That night, the fake couple act continued over dinner at a fancy restaurant. The two of you exchanged words and laughs, every motion calculated for the benefit of anyone watching. You threw in some exaggerated touches, a little too much laughter, a few lingering glances. All the while, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow… too real. Every time Gibbs’s hand brushed against yours, it sent a shock through your body that you didn’t know how to explain. The way he looked at you in those quiet moments, as if he was waiting for something, waiting for you to say the wrong thing.

Now it wasn’t just the bed that bothered you now. It was everything. The way he said your name. The way he leaned in just a little too close when speaking to you. It was all so… intimate. So close to something real. To give credit where credit was due Gibbs was as always really good at the job.

You both exchanged some more playful banter throughout the meal. When the waiter brought the wine, Gibbs looked at you, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not drinking again?”

You shook your head with a smile, your voice light. “You know I don’t drink. I like to keep my wits about me.”

His lips quirked up in that knowing smile you had learned to recognize. “Uh-huh. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. “You’re impossible, Gibbs.”

The conversation flowed easily, but beneath the small talk, you both knew the truth. You were just pretending, but it was becoming harder and harder to convince yourself that there wasn’t something more.

By the time you got back to the hotel room, the weight of the day was pressing down on both of you. You could feel the tension between you the second you walked in.

Gibbs dropped his bag with a thud and started undressing for bed. His movements were quick, efficient, but the air in the room was thick with the unspoken words neither of you wanted to say. You had done a good job of pretending all day, but now, when the masks were off, the real discomfort settled in.

You climbed into the bed, trying to keep the space between you, but it was hard. There was no escaping the proximity. The bed was huge, but the distance between you seemed to vanish the moment you lay down. Gibbs was on the opposite side, his back turned to you, but the tension in the room was suffocating.

You stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing. There was so much unsaid between the two of you, and yet here you were, forced to share this intimate space, both of you pretending it didn’t matter.

After a long stretch of silence, you broke it. “You know,” you began, keeping your voice light, though you felt anything but. “I still don’t understand why they had to pick us for this.”

Gibbs didn’t respond immediately, and you could feel his eyes on you in the dark, “We’re the best at what we do. That’s why.”

You snorted softly. “Right. Because playing pretend is exactly what we’re trained for.”

There was a pause. Then, in the quiet, Gibbs’s voice came low and steady. “We’re not pretending. We’re doing our jobs.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you let out a small breath, staring at the ceiling again. “Well your job maybe.”

Chapter 12: Unwanted Orders

You hadn’t expected to be dragged into Vance’s office today, but then again, nothing about this job had gone as you expected.

You were bent over a stack of files that Vance had handed to you, eyes scanning the latest case details, when the door opened with a soft creak.

“Gibbs,” Vance called. You didn’t look up. You were pretending to be busy, pretending like you didn't have the tightness in your chest every time his name came up.

Gibbs didn’t answer immediately, but you could hear his boots hitting the floor as he walked into Vance’s office, the door clicking softly behind him.

It wasn’t long before Vance’s voice rang out, sharp and direct, “We need to talk.”

You hated the tone in Vance’s voice. Something was coming. Something that wasn’t going to be easy.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a sigh, glancing over at the door. You knew better than to get too involved in their conversations, but your ears naturally tuned in. Gibbs was your boss, after all.

“What’s going on, Vance?” Gibbs’ voice was calm, but you could hear the edge in it an underlying wariness that suggested he wasn’t thrilled with whatever Vance was about to say.

“We’ve got a situation,” Vance started. “And I need two to go undercover.”

You froze, your heart sinking at the mere suggestion. Undercover. You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to work with him one on one. Not like this. And definitely not undercover.

You quickly turned back to your files on your lap, trying to ignore the sick feeling rising in your stomach.

There was a long pause. You could almost hear Gibbs’ jaw tightening. “What do you mean, ‘undercover’?” he asked, his voice low but clipped. “What’s the operation?”

“It’s a bigger deal than you think,” Vance replied. “I need you two to pose as a couple.”

The room fell silent, and for a moment, you thought you were hearing things. “Excuse me?” Gibbs growled, his tone even sharper. You could almost picture the look on his face, that cold, steely look of someone who wasn’t easily manipulated. “You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with her? Why?”

You could already feel the frustration bubbling up in your chest. Your fists clenched against the desk. They couldn’t be serious. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to pretend. And you especially didn’t want to do it with him.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Vance said, his voice firm. “The operation requires it. You’re both already familiar with the case, and you’re the best people for the job.”

You could hear Gibbs’ quiet growl of frustration. You knew he wasn’t about to back down on this easily. “I’m not putting her in that position,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s too dangerous, and frankly, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You pop into the conversation “I’m sorry agent Gibbs but you have no right to say if something is too dangerous for me or not, but I do agree I do computers not spy stuff”

Just as you see Gibbs go to answer back Vance pops in.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, neither of you have a choice,” Vance replied, unyielding. “The higher-ups have made their decision. You’re both going. I need you to be convincing. I need you to look the part.”

There was a tense silence. You could almost hear Gibbs thinking through it all, trying to come to terms with what he was being forced into. Finally, he spoke, but his voice was filled with frustration.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh, clearly giving in. “We’ll do it.”

You stood up sharply, your chair scraping loudly against the floor, your hands gripping the back of it for support.

“Fine? Oh, really? Because dating me would be so bad, huh?” Your voice was sharp, but beneath the irritation, there was a crack. You weren’t just angry about the mission, not really. You were angry because you had never expected Gibbs to agree to this so easily. No questions asked. No objections. No defense.

His gaze flickered toward you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you met his eyes. There was something there something too complex to decipher in a single glance.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head.

His face softened, just a little, but it was enough to make your heart ache. “I know,” he replied quietly, but his voice was firm.

You could feel the heat rise in your chest. “I’m not some pawn, Gibbs,” you snapped, stepping closer to him, the space between you feeling smaller now. “I’m not someone you can just—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “I’m not treating you like a pawn.” His voice was quieter now, more controlled, but you could still hear the underlying frustration there.

You took a step back, your chest tight. You wanted to argue more, to lash out, but the truth was that you were already feeling exposed. Vulnerable. “Also I’m shocked you mention putting me in danger because you don’t have to start defending me now.” You say with an almost frightening level of composure. “It’s not like you did it before.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the regret hanging heavy in the air. You turned away, unable to face him any longer.

Vance cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the silence. “The details are in the file,” he said, his voice gruff. “You leave tomorrow. Be ready.”

Gibbs didn’t answer him immediately. He just stared at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t name. Finally, he exhaled, his voice a low rasp.

Chapter 11: A Cold Silence

You hadn’t properly spoken to Gibbs in awhile. And it was becoming easier to pretend he wasn’t there, easier to simply walk past him without acknowledging the space that had once been filled with inside jokes, teasing remarks, and moments where you both could almost forget that you weren’t just coworkers but friends, too. Now, it was nothing more than awkward professionalism, and the silence between you two had started to feel suffocating.

The months had dragged on since your argument. The anger had faded, but the hurt, the unspoken words, still lingered, like a bruise you couldn’t quite reach. He was your boss, yeah but, he was also the one person you thought you could trust the most. But everything had changed after he’d turned you into a suspect, investigated you like you weren’t an ally but a liability. And though you understood it had been his job, it still stung.

Chapter 10: Shattered Trust

The soft hum of the office was long behind you as you descended the stairs into Gibbs’ basement. It was a place you’d gotten used to, a place that had become almost comforting in its simplicity. The smell of sawdust and wood polish lingered in the air. The dim lighting cast shadows over the unfinished boat, and the quiet, rhythmic sound of a sander had always been strangely peaceful to you until today.

You’d been trying to ignore the growing suspicion in your gut all afternoon, trying to focus on the case at hand, but everything felt off. Too many lingering glances from Gibbs, too many pointed questions, the ones that had been happening for weeks now. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t wanted to think that he’d been keeping something from you. But the file on your computer had told you everything you needed to know.

The file wasn’t subtle. “Investigation: Potential Security Breach”—your name, flagged as a suspect. No explanation. No questions asked. Just cold, sterile documentation of an investigation.

You had tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was just procedure, just Gibbs doing his job. But then it hit you. Why wasn’t he talking to you?

If there was any question, any shred of doubt, he should have come to you. He should have asked. He should have trusted you. He was supposed to have your back. Always.

But he hadn’t. And that hurt more than anything else.

You were furious now. Furious at the situation, at him, and at yourself for not seeing the signs earlier. You had always trusted him—trusted that he wouldn’t make you feel like an outsider, like you were expendable.

The door to the basement creaked open, and you stepped inside, your shoes clicking on the concrete floor. The familiar sight of Gibbs, working on the boat, barely looked different. He was in his usual spot, his back to you, focused on sanding down a piece of wood. But the atmosphere felt so… off.

He didn’t look up when you entered, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, as if everything was normal. But you knew it wasn’t.

You stood there for a moment, the anger and hurt bubbling up inside you, until you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I know.”

Gibbs paused, his hand stilling on the sander, but he didn’t turn around. “Know what?”

“The investigation.” Your voice was sharp, accusing. It felt like the words were too big for the space, filling the room with the weight of your hurt.

Finally, he turned to face you, his expression neutral but his eyes narrowed, almost guarded. There was no apology in his gaze only the same cool professionalism he always wore like armor.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he said slowly, as if it were no big deal. As if you weren’t standing here, trembling with frustration.

You took a step forward, the anger in you growing, but it wasn’t just about the investigation anymore. It wasn’t just about the fact that he’d been watching you. It was about everything that had led to this moment.

“Really?” Your voice cracked a little, but you didn’t care. “You mean to tell me you’ve been questioning me, investigating me behind my back, and you didn’t think I’d find out?” You shook your head, disbelief and hurt flashing across your face. “I’ve been working with you, trusting you. And you—” your voice wavered, “you couldn’t trust me enough to talk to me about it?”

Gibbs didn’t speak right away. His jaw clenched, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. It wasn’t like him to back down, but it wasn’t like him to keep things from you either. You had seen a side of him in this basement, a side that was softer, more vulnerable. But tonight, there was none of that. Just the cold, sharp edges of a man caught in the crossfire of his own decisions.

“It wasn’t about trust,” he finally said, his voice low but heavy with unspoken tension. “It was about protecting you.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Protecting me? By turning me into a suspect? By keeping me in the dark like some kind of… criminal?” The words felt too sharp on your tongue, but they needed to be said. You couldn’t hold them in any longer.

Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing even further. His gaze never wavered, locked on yours. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” you cut him off, stepping even closer to him. “I understand perfectly. You didn’t trust me enough to come to me, to talk to me, to defend me when the people in the building questioned my loyalty.” Your voice broke slightly, and you hated that it did. “You would’ve done that for anyone else on the team. Why not me.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between you like a taut wire, thick with everything that had been left unsaid. Gibbs stood there, unmoving, as if he didn’t know how to respond. His eyes flicked briefly to the boat behind you his safe place, his retreat. But he didn’t look away this time. He stayed rooted to the spot, like he was trying to understand how to make this right.

“It’s not that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but you could hear the weight in it, the strain.

The air between you thickened, and you felt your heart constrict. “But you should’ve trusted me.” You stepped even closer now, your voice shaking with the rawness of everything you’d been feeling for the last few days. “Instead, you shut me out. You doubted me, Gibbs.”

He winced slightly at your words, but he didn’t pull away. There was no easy way out of this for either of you. You both knew that now.

And yet, despite all the hurt, the anger, and the confusion, something was shifting between you. You could see it in the way Gibbs’ gaze softened, in the way he seemed to breathe in the air between you. He wasn’t sure how to fix it, but neither were you.

“Hurting you, wasn’t my intention” he said quietly, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed, the words still there, heavy on your tongue. “Yeah well, you did.”

The tension in the room was almost unbearable, the space between you thick with everything you couldn’t say. You could feel the old connection between you, the unspoken bond that had always been there just beneath the surface. But now, it was fraying at the edges, both of you standing on the precipice of something deeper, something more.

Gibbs looked at you for a long time, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his eyes weren’t guarded. They were wide open, searching yours for something, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. There were no easy answers, no quick fixes.

But you knew one thing for sure: whatever this was between you whatever had brought you here wasn’t something either of you could ignore for much longer.

Chapter 9: Where Silence Speaks

The diner was just as it always was bright, warm, and filled with the comforting scent of greasy food and burnt coffee. The sound of sizzling meat and clinking plates seemed oddly soothing. As soon as you entered, the waitress, a middle-aged woman with glasses perched on the tip of her nose, waved at you both.

“Evening, Gibbs. The usual?” she asked, not waiting for his answer. She had known him long enough that she knew exactly what he wanted.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “And Diet Coke for her.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, a little surprised that he remembered. It was one of those small things things you had never asked him to remember. You didn’t drink much, and when you did, it was always Diet Coke. He made fun of you for it every time, but it never bothered you. In fact, it was almost endearing.

As you slid into the booth across from him, he settled into his usual spot. It was strange how natural this routine had become, how easy it was to fall into the silence with him. No small talk. No pressure. Just the kind of comfortable quiet that you never seemed to mind.

The waitress brought over two glasses one for him, one for you along with menus that neither of you would need. She had already started the order in the back.

“You sure about that?” Gibbs asked, leaning back in the booth with his arms crossed, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. “Diet Coke’s bad for you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes but played along, leaning forward. “And all that bourbon and coffee is good for you, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk on your face, and he grinned back, ever so slightly.

“Keeps the cold out,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was a hint of something else in it. A softness, almost.

The waitress placed your food in front of you an order of eggs and toast, just the way you liked it and Gibbs’ usual bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. He didn’t need to ask for any special order. He was always straight to the point, no-nonsense. Just like the way he worked. It was… comforting. In a way, it reminded you that there were things in your life you could rely on.

For a while, the two of you ate in silence. The clink of cutlery was the only sound between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most peaceful part of your day. You weren’t sure why, but when you sat across from him, the noise in your head seemed to die down, the tension in your chest relaxed.

It wasn’t long before Gibbs broke the silence. His voice was low, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Been thinkin’…” He stopped, clearly unsure how to finish that sentence. You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The tone was serious, but not accusatory.

You placed your fork down, meeting his gaze. “About what?”

He gave you that knowing look the one he always had when he was about to say something that was just on the edge of personal. “The case. Things have been different, huh?”

You hesitated, but then nodded, the words forming slowly in your head. “Yeah… I don’t know. It’s like there’s this… tension. Like there’s something going on that I’m not being told.”

He didn’t say anything right away. He simply took a long drink from his glass, his eyes never leaving you. It was strange the way his gaze was heavy, like it weighed more than it should have.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s not always easy. Sometimes… things aren’t what they seem.”

There it was again. That subtle shift in his tone. You could tell he was holding something back, but you didn’t press it. Not yet.

The air between you two thickened, and for a moment, you just sat there, letting the words hang in the space between you. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned back, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t know what’s more ridiculous your Diet Coke or that habit of talking to yourself when you’re deep in thought,” he said, breaking the moment and pulling you out of the heavier thoughts.

You laughed, the tension between you dissolving for a brief moment. “Oh, please. It’s better than your boat building obsession.”

He smirked, taking another sip of his drink, then set it down on the table, his eyes darkening slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with my boats. They keep my mind sharp and my hands busy.”

You shook your head. “You’ve been sharp enough without it, Gibbs. That’s one thing I can trust.”

His gaze flickered with something unspoken, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes. But it was gone before you could be sure. He cleared his throat, pushing the moment aside.

Chapter 8: The Weight of Suspicion

It was just another day at NCIS. The usual buzz of activity filled the bullpen, but something felt off. It wasn’t loud or chaotic. No, it was the kind of quiet that made you feel like something important was being kept quiet, something unsaid that lingered in the air.

You tried to focus, typing away at your computer, scanning through lines of encrypted data, but every few seconds your eyes drifted over to Gibbs. He was standing at the edge of the bullpen, his arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. He was always vigilant, always scanning the room with that intense, almost predatory gaze, but today, it felt different. Today, there was an edge to it.

You felt it, that subtle, invisible shift in his presence. It wasn’t just the usual “Gibbs is keeping watch” feeling; it was something more… deliberate. The way he looked at you, the way he lingered just a little too long when your paths crossed, those little glances were beginning to make you uneasy. He didn’t speak to you much, but then again, he never did. But now it was more than the usual silence. Now, it was a silence that felt… loaded.

You caught him staring at you once, his sharp blue eyes cutting across the room, and you felt that tightening in your chest. He quickly turned away, as if he’d been caught in the act of something. But you weren’t sure what that something was.

For the past week, there had been a strange undercurrent running through the office. People were a little quieter than usual. They exchanged looks you couldn’t quite decipher. You knew the job was high-stakes, no one ever had time to breathe, but it was different now. It was like something was hovering just below the surface. Something that made everyone a little on edge.

When the phone rang on your desk, it startled you out of your thoughts. You picked it up, immediately slipping into work mode.

“Hey, I need those reports ASAP,” Gibbs called from across the room. You could hear the urgency in his voice, but there was something else something that you couldn’t place hidden in the tension. Something that had been growing all day.

You nodded, trying to focus on your work, but your mind kept wandering back to Gibbs. It had started earlier in the day when you realized that he’d been paying you a bit more attention than usual. He’d been around your desk more frequently, checking over your shoulder as you worked. Whenever he was near, there was a cool, almost deliberate silence between you two. He would never be chatty, but it was the subtle way he kept his eyes on you that made you uncomfortable.

As the hours passed, the unease grew. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt like you were being watched, not by everyone, but by him. Gibbs.

It was subtle, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He wasn’t talking to you the way he usually did. There was no banter, no quiet “good job” after you do a well, in this case not gonna lie here a really good job. No words of reassurance. It was like you were just… there. A part of the background noise of the office.

And yet, he was always in the corner of your vision, always hovering nearby, watching.

The most disturbing thing was the way his presence felt heavier now. The look in his eyes when they occasionally met yours, those flickers of doubt, of calculation, as if he were assessing you, reading you.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that things came to a head. You were in the process of pulling up some sensitive data for an ongoing case when you noticed Gibbs standing by your desk again, his arms crossed, his posture rigid, watching as you worked. His eyes flicked between your screen and your face, but never once did he speak to you. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe.

You continued typing, pretending you didn’t feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. But it was impossible to ignore.

You didn’t know what to think. You had been part of Gibbs’ team for months now, working side by side, cracking cases and getting things done. He’d never been overly friendly, but that was never his style. It didn’t matter. You trusted him, and you had thought that was mutual. But now, it felt like something was shifting. Something new. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the distance between the two of you had grown in the last week. A clear shift since the night in his basement.

As the hours stretched on, you tried to push the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. You hated everything about this week and hoping it was just an off week you were ready to leave.

The evening had finally settled into that rare quiet that only seemed to exist after hours in the bullpen. Most of the team had already left, and you were packing up to go home. The fluorescent lights above buzzed lazily, and the sharp sound of typing had been replaced by the low murmur of the office air conditioning.

It was just you and Gibbs now.

He approached your desk with his usual purpose, his presence always so commanding. For a moment, you thought he might just leave maybe to work on the boat or maybe he does something else to unwind after a day of being, well, Gibbs. But then, as you gathered your things, he spoke.

“You hungry?” His voice was low, casual, but there was something behind it, something you couldn’t quite read.

You didn’t hesitate. You knew the routine, the late-night diner runs where it was just you and him, no one else. You had shared quiet meals there before nothing fancy, just simple comfort food. The kind of place that always smelled of bacon and fried food, with waitresses who knew you by name. It had become one of those strange traditions between the two of you but not one done in weeks.

Chapter 7: Shared Secrets

The case had taken its toll. The team had been working non-stop, piecing together a web of lies and deceit that seemed to grow by the hour. As a data analyst, you had been buried in mountains of encrypted messages and financial records, struggling to uncover the final piece of the puzzle. But for all your expertise, there were moments when the weight of the case felt like it might crush you. You could feel the tension building, and you knew you needed a break.

It was then that Gibbs’ words came back to you: “You ever need a break, you know where to find me.”

The “open house” rule, a quiet understanding between you and Gibbs, had become your lifeline. You had taken him up on it a few times already mostly for quick chats or advice when the stress got too much. But tonight… tonight felt different. You needed more than just advice. You needed to breathe, to get away from the chaos. And Gibbs, with his quiet strength and steady presence, was the one place you knew you could find that.

You slipped out of the bullpen, heading home around this time was usual for you yet today you were heading to Gibbs’ home instead. You’d been there a few times before, but never quite like this—never with the weight of everything hanging on your shoulders. As you approached the door, you knocked softly. No answer.

Gibbs was probably in the basement, working on his boat as usual.

You let yourself in.

The basement was dimly lit, the faint scent of wood and varnish filling the air. You heard the steady shh of a sandpaper on wood before you even saw him, and then, there he was Gibbs, hunched over the hull of the boat, his hands steady and sure as he worked. The sharp sound of the tool against wood was the only noise that filled the space, and it was oddly calming.

You leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of him. He was in his element here, lost in the work, his usually stern face softened by the concentration. The sight of him like this so focused, so calm was almost disarming. It made him seem more human, more approachable in a way that was rare.

After a moment, you cleared your throat, and he looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly at the intrusion, but there was no real annoyance in them.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice low but still holding that familiar authority.

You shook your head. “No, just needed a break from the case. It’s… a mess.”

Gibbs set the sander down, the noise abruptly ceasing. He wiped his hands on a rag before giving you a casual glance. “You’ve been at it for a while, haven’t you?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah. It’s just… the deeper I dig, the more tangled it gets. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he gave a slight nod toward the boat. “Want to get your mind off of it? I could show you how to work on this thing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean… the boat?”

Gibbs’ lips twitched into a small smile. “It’s a good distraction. Besides, might be time you learned how to do something other than staring at screens all day.”

There it was the subtle challenge in his voice.

“Oi I do more than stare at screens” you found yourself intrigued though. If there was anything you could use right now, it was a change of pace. Plus, you were curious. You’d seen Gibbs work on the boat a few times, but never close enough to really understand what he was doing.

You stepped closer, sliding into the space next to him. “Alright, show me what all the fuss is about.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed a tool and handed it to you with a brief, “Here. Start with this.”

You took the tool from him and tried to mimic his movements. It felt awkward at first working with your hands wasn’t something you did often. You were used to numbers, to data that made sense, that could be tamed. This, though, was different. Not yet bad but definitely different.

As you struggled with it, Gibbs stood next to you, watching quietly, his presence oddly comforting.

“You’ve got the wrong grip,” he said after a moment. “Hold it like this.” He moved closer, guiding your hand into the right position, his fingers brushing against yours.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him adjust your grip, feeling the warmth of his hand for just a second longer than necessary. You were acutely aware of how close he was, but you didn’t let it show. He wasn’t doing this to flirt he was just trying to teach you. You knew that. But still, it was hard to ignore the proximity, the way his presence seemed to fill the space.

“There. Now try again,” he said, stepping back, his voice softer than usual.

You focused on the task, the rhythmic motion of sanding the wood calming your nerves a little. The silence between you both felt comfortable, not awkward. And slowly, as you worked side by side with Gibbs, the weight of the case seemed to lift just a little.

Minutes passed, and then an hour. Gibbs continued to work on the boat, showing you little tricks here and there, explaining how to fix things, how to make everything just a little bit better. But what you found most interesting was how little he talked about himself. It was clear he wasn’t a man to share personal details easily. And yet, here you were learning how to sand wood, how to tighten bolts, how to make something completely new out of some well blocks of wood side by side, silently connecting over a shared task.

Eventually, Gibbs stood up and grabbed two glasses, filling one with bourbon and the other with Diet Coke your favorite, he remembered. You raised an eyebrow at the soda, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he handed it to you with a half-smile.

“Figured you wouldn’t want anything stronger,” he said, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You accepted the glass with a mock glare. “I’ve told you before, I don’t drink.”

Gibbs chuckled, but it was a low, amused sound. “I know.”

You took a sip of your soda, leaning against the workbench as you watched him sip his bourbon. There was a certain ease between you now something comfortable, something that had grown out of these quiet moments. You didn’t feel the pressure of the case, of work, of the unspoken tension between you. It was just you and him. And the boat.

After a while, Gibbs broke the silence.

“Case still got you messed up, huh?”

You paused, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t just the case. It was everything. The pressure, the uncertainty, the feeling that you were always one step away from cracking.

“Yeah,” you finally admitted. “I’ve been chasing the wrong leads. It feels like I’m just… going in circles.”

He nodded, his expression serious now, the soft humor of earlier replaced with that quiet intensity you were used to. “Sometimes, you need to step away to see things clearly. You’ve been looking at the case too long from one angle. You need a new perspective.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “You really think that’ll help?”

Gibbs took another sip of whiskey, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve learned it helps in more than just work. Sometimes, getting distance from what’s right in front of you can change everything. And when you come back to it, you’ll see it for what it really is.”

His words resonated with you more than you expected. You had always prided yourself on solving problems, on having all the answers. But maybe you were too close to this one. Maybe you did need to step back.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you just took another sip of your soda, the quiet comfort of his company settling over you.

“Thanks, Gibbs,” you finally said, your voice sincere. “I uh needed to hear that.”

He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable again. But there was something in the way he looked at you a quiet approval, a shared understanding that told you more than words ever could.

The night wore on, and the two of you continued to work in companionable silence, the sounds of the boat and the steady rhythm of your movements the only noise in the basement. When you finally left, it was with a clearer head and a lighter heart.

You didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in days, you felt like you might.