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He watched her wipe the counter down while he put the last dish away and he smiled at the new domesticity of it all. Four months into the marriage and it was all still fresh, her smile brighter than the day before. He couldn't help but grin.
"What're you thinking about?" she asked, using the dish towel over his shoulder to dry her hands.
His shrug was lazy and warm. "Just thinkin' about how much I'm startin' to like you in the kitchen, Sloane."
The use of her maiden name was always the soft landing for his feigned irreverence. She pulled him in close by his belt. “I’d be offended by your misogyny if I didn’t know what you’re really thinking about is how much you like me all over this kitchen.” Her eyes fell on the long length of countertop they had installed together, then back to his mischievous blues.
“Considered it quality control,” he replied, his voice giving away nothing even as his smirk gave away everything.
“Structural integrity,” she offered, tilting her head back to encourage his lowering mouth.
He chuckled at the term. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” The countertop was just about to get another test when the doorbell rang. “Better be the fire department,” he groused.
Her laugh tickled his lips. Slapping his hands away, she said, “It’s probably Nathan.”
Gibbs grabbed his paper and her glasses from the table before heading to the couch. Stretching his long frame against the cushions, he watched her go to the door. “Better keep his hands where I can see ‘em.”
She admonished him with a glare. “Stop.” Opening the door, she smiled at the teenager. “Nathan. Come on in.”
“Mrs. Gibbs,” he said, smiling back. He stepped into the living room. “Hey, Mr. Gibbs.”
“Nathan.” His attention didn’t stray from the paper, though he was more than aware of the boy’s nervousness. Taking some pity on him, Gibbs stood. “I’ll go downstairs.”
Nathan held up his hand. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I guess I should get used to an audience.”
Jack nodded at Gibbs. To Nathan, she said, “Are you sure you don’t want your mother to teach you this?”
He shook his head. “She’s already helped me so much. She helped me rent a suit and get a limo, and she helped me pick out a buttoneer and a corsage.”
“Boutonniere,” Jack gently corrected, stopping Gibbs’ snort with a look.
“Right. Boutonniere.” He stumbled over the word but continued. “Anyway, I feel kinda weird asking her to teach me to dance.” His head dipped to hide his blush. “Figured I should get a real girl to teach me. Not that my mom isn’t a real girl. I mean, woman. I just-”
“It is kind of weird dancing with a parent,” she agreed, saving him from further embarrassment. “So, I take it you’ve brought music?”
Grateful for the distraction, he held up his cell phone. “Right here.” He swiped across the screen several times, then showed her where he had cued a song. “This one okay?”
Vaguely recognizing the name, Jack nodded. “Looks good to me.” She started the song then took a position in front of him. Guiding his right hand to her waist, she placed hers in his left. “There you go. Relax, Nathan. Remember she wants to be with you as much as you want to be with her. Move closer.” A loud cough came from the couch. “Maybe not that close.” She winked to put the teen at ease. It took the chorus to come around a second time before he seemed comfortable at last. “I think you got it,” she said.
“Yeah, this is pretty easy.” His smile was broad and confident and she beamed with pride. “You go to prom, Mrs. Gibbs?”
She pretended to not notice the interest that came from behind the newspaper. "I did. Worst night of my life."
"Really?" Nathan asked. "You'd be cool to take to the prom."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she grinned. "And at risk of patting myself on the back, I was pretty cool. Had this great, horribly pastel green dress and my hair fantastic. Probably responsible for half the ozone depletion with all that hairspray. Out to here." She held one hand out past her shoulder. "Like Tawny Kitaen." Seeing Nathan's confusion, she said, "Google her when you get home." She paused. "Or maybe not. Ask your mom. Anyway," she went on, over the snort from the couch, "I was rockin' it. Then Brian Unsworth spilled out of the limo, half in the bag, in a Miami Vice suit and mullet. Both of which were fashionable at the time, but in hindsight, not a good look." She had Gibbs' full amused attention now. "Out of the cloud of Drakkar Noir, he says, 'Hey, babe, you're looking rad' and boy, if I could go back and have a talk with myself. So we get to the school and it's nice. Candace Whitman is telling everyone what a great job she did, but whatever. Bitch." Nathan was in awe and Gibbs wasn't even bothering hiding his smirk. Realizing she said it out loud, she back tracked. "That's between us."
Nathan nodded.
"So the night's going… fine. I mostly hung out with my girl crew because the guys were being assholes. We tried not to light our cigarettes too close to our hair. Did I mention the hairspray? Anyway, my song finally comes on and I drag my date to the dance floor. Where he proceeds to try and stick his tongue down my throat."
"Uh-oh."
Jack agreed with Nathan's assessment. "'Uh-oh' is right. I punched him right in the face. Broke his nose." In the midst of the teen's laugh and Gibbs' hum of approval, she quickly slid in, "Got arrested and spent the rest of the night in jail."
"Wait, what?" Nathan asked.
She waved away the decades-old transgression and rolled her eyes. “His dad was some hotshot investment guy. I was 6 months from my 18th birthday, so it didn’t go on my record. The end.” At that moment, the song also came to an end and she looked up into Nathan’s wide eyes. “So, what did you think?”
“I think that was the most awesome story I’ve ever heard!”
She grinned. “I meant about the dancing.”
“That was awesome, too.” He stepped back, and unsure of where to put his hands now that they didn’t have a job to do, jammed them into his pockets. “I really appreciate it, Mrs. Gibbs.”
“Any time, Nathan.”
Turning to Gibbs, he said, “And I appreciate you letting her teach me.”
He didn’t even need to see Jack to know the look he was getting. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Nathan; you don’t ‘let’ women do anything. They just do it.”
“Yes, sir.” He dropped his phone into his back pocket. “Hey, I didn’t ask- what was your prom like? Did you punch some guy in the face, too?”
Jack leaned forward, realizing she didn’t know the answer.
“Didn’t go to the prom,” Gibbs said, folding the paper and tossing it onto the coffee table. “Day after I graduated, I joined the Marines.”
Nathan frowned, disappointed in the story. “You didn’t go? And Mrs. Gibbs’ night ended with her in jail.” His eyes lit up as an idea occurred to him. “Too bad you guys didn’t meet sooner, might’ve had a better prom. Anyway,” he said, “thanks again.”
Gibbs stood and glanced at Jack who saw the imperceptible nod.
“Have a great time, Nathan. Make sure you tell us how it went, okay?”
“Okay, Mrs. Gibbs.”
At the door, Gibbs reached into his pocket and counted out a stack of bills. Handing them to Nathan, he said, “I might not know much about proms, but I know enough about women. Treat her right and she’ll do the same.”
He saw Gibbs’ outstretched hand offering him the money. “I can’t-” The glare stopped him mid-sentence. “What I mean is, I can’t believe you’re giving me this much money.”
“I know you got a limo, but just in case you need a cab. Or bail money.”
Nathan laughed. “You really think she broke some guy’s nose?” The whispered question was barely out of his mouth before he answered it himself. “Of course she did. What am I saying?”
Gibbs turned the handle and opened the door. “You got our number. You better call if you need somethin’ or you’ll break her heart.”
The teen touched his nose. “Message received.”
…..
Two weeks passed and that night’s conversation got lost in daily routine of work and home and love. So it took the pieces a bit longer to fall into place than it normally might when she came down the stairs and saw him standing in the living room in her favourite blue suit and tie. When he had told her to wear the white sundress he liked so much because he was going to take her to dinner, she’d thought nothing of it; he took her to dinner on a regular basis. But it was the flower in his lapel and the corsage in his hand that was the proverbial, beautiful shoe dropping. She slowed her descent to take him all in, but also to make sure he didn’t see her cry.
“You’re not cryin’, are ya, Sloane?”
She stopped on the stairs and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m going back upstairs.”
He caught her hand just as she turned, even if both of them knew she had no intention of following through on her threat.
“After I went through all the trouble to buy ya flowers?”
Admiring the corsage he slipped onto her wrist, she admitted, “They are pretty nice flowers. You rent a limo?”
His eyes glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes. Just enough time.”
Knowing he’d get around to answering her unspoken question, she let him lead her into the living room where he stopped her with a touch on her hips before turning to the stereo against the wall. She recognized the old familiar sound of a button being locked down, then the strains of a thirty year old song reached her ears.
“Oh. My. God.” Her laughter joined the piano notes that had begun to fill the room. “Where the hell did you find it?”
“Something called ‘Ebay’,” he said, playing along with his Luddite reputation.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get in on vinyl.”
He circled one hand around her waist and took her hand in the other and smiled when she automatically brought her left hand up to his shoulder. Though she had taken the exact same position with a 17-year old in the very same spot 2 weeks earlier, the context and the meaning were worlds apart. They danced like they had been doing it for years, fit like they’d been made to be each other’s counterpart.
“Your song, huh?”
The question playfully tickled her ear and she chuckled into his.
“Don’t pretend you’re oblivious to the 80s. I saw your eyes light up when I mentioned Tawny Kitaen.”
His shrug was his concession. “She was pretty ‘rad’.”
“If I pay you money, will you use that word in the bullpen tomorrow?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, come on. ‘Gnarly’?”
She got a grunt in reply.
“‘Psych’? ‘Grody’? ‘Stoked’?”
“Jack?”
She pulled back just enough to see his sparkling blue eyes. “Jethro?”
He held her gaze and whatever he was going to say got lost in her eyes. Instead, he echoed her earlier question. “If I pay you money, will you use that word in the bullpen tomorrow?”
The idea that ‘rad’ and ‘Jethro’ would result in the same incredulous reaction from his team made her tilt her head back and laugh, and he took advantage of the moment to drop a kiss on her throat. Encouraged by her hand that moved from his shoulder to his hair, he worked up to her mouth, hesitating long enough to get the permission he knew he didn’t need. He brought her right hand up to his shoulder and with both his hands around her waist, he pulled her closer. They swayed to the music, slightly off the beat, their attention only partially on the song, the rest on every contact point, from their hips to their hands to their mouths. As the song faded out, so did the kiss, though they barely separated.
“Not sure the prom chaperones would’ve approved of your methods, Mr. Gibbs.” Her tease was whispered against his lips.
“More concerned about your approval, Mrs. Gibbs.”
“Mmmm, say that again,” she all but purred.
“More concerned-”
“The other bit, smartass.”
“Mrs. Gibbs.” When she murmured the approval he was seeking, he asked, “So you’re not gonna punch me in the face?”
“Not tonight, no.” Just as he was about to give words to his incredulous expression, she dropped a quick peck on his lips. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. And don’t think I don’t love you for it.”
“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Just wanted to take a pretty girl to the prom.” His pause was just enough for a kiss and a beat. “Couldn’t track down Tawny Kitaen, so-”
She slapped his chest with both hands, repeatedly. “I could change my mind about that punch at any time.” A horn honked, stopping her half-hearted assault. “Got lucky, Cowboy.”
He had a quip at the ready until he saw the smile, something so pure and true and her, just for him. “You got that right.”
His honesty caught her off-guard but she saved it with, “Bring the cassette. We’ll find a boombox somewhere and make out on Hains Point.”
He drew a hand through her hair and kissed her again. “Rad.”
…..
-end