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The neighbors were going to get an eyeful if any of them took a glance into the back yard, that was for sure. Not they would really be able to see much detail at dusk, but she was all legs and bare feet in shadow darkened grass. Her white tank was tight to soft skin and she sure as hell wasn't wearing a bra - not that he was complaining. The boxers she had stolen from him were such a comfortably thin fabric that even the pale blue striping didn't disregard the fact that she was a strike of pale brightness as the sun said its goodnight.
The power had gone out three hours before and in its absence the heat had climbed up higher, thicker. The stagnant air was humid and heavy and all the things that an August night could be without the blessed reprieve of air conditioning.
The outage had started three hours prior but it had only taken two hours for her to ditch him with a camping lamp in the slightly cooler basement. The quietness, the complete stillness had finally tugged on him, though, drawn his attention upward as he had tried to listen for her. Silence had met him, silence and oncoming darkness.
He realized… he wanted to be where she was. And she was laying flat on her back in the grass, one arm stretched out beside her while the other balanced a beer bottle just below her rib cage. She was staring at the sky as it careened through colors, changing so quickly that he knew sunset was imminent.
The neighbor boys would regret not taking a long look into the Gibbs' backyard. "That kid next door looks over here and you're gonna have him walking funny."
"I'd be naked if his bedroom window faced South instead," she teased back.
Oh, he wanted that… "Never known you to be shy, Sloane."
She lifted her head enough to take a drink without spilling, putting herself up on an elbow while she crossed those beautiful legs at the ankles and smiled. It was such a good and sincere smile, too. Hers always were more honest than anyone else's.
"Gonna join me?" she taunted, one brow arched and her blonde hair a knotted riot on top of her head.
He could just make out the sheen of sweat on her throat and he considered her question while she took another drink. "In your new tick farming career?"
"Oh, live a little, Gunnery Sergeant."
What sorta husband was he if he wouldn't stretch out in the grass beside his beautiful wife? Especially when she gave such sultry winks and laughed before they could be reciprocated.
His knees hated him for it but he did as requested, stepping into the recently trimmed yard and crouching down beside her. She caught him in with a welcoming openness that was so wonderfully Jack Sloane, warm hands and no expectations. Just acceptance. Her fingers grabbed at his hoodie strings, tugging him down to kiss her. She was laughing before he even caught himself on the grass, both her hands catching the sweatshirt as she pulled at him.
"What the hell?!" Jack asked quickly, interrupting the kiss. Her hand coming away from the hood with one of the ice packs from the defrosting freezer. "You sneaky - "
"That's not the only one," he interrupted, kissing her again before she could process and respond. Before she really had a chance to stop him and ask questions he slipped the one from the front hoodie pocket and lifted it between them. She squealed into the kiss as the cold pressed her throat and clavicle and he outright laughed when she shoved him back slightly.
“You son of a - ”
“Give it back then,” he sassed.
“No,” she pouted up at him quickly, one slender hand covering the back of his as he pressed the half melted ice pack against her throat. Her other hand pressed the one from the hood to his forehead and in the half shadows of dusk he felt his whole entire body sigh and sink lower in comfort.
It wasn’t just the relief of the cold countering the heat. It was the utter relief of her existence as they were overtaken by shadows and the smell of freshly cut grass. Her positivity had most any situation looking less worrisome than it could and her easy going demeanor always put him at ease. He enjoyed the fact that she could make an hours-long power outage seem like the tail end of a Sunday afternoon yard party.
“Should probably lemme check,” he murmured, shifting his way out of a kiss so that he could take a breath and angle himself more comfortably to her side. He stretched out beside her, stretched out with his head on his left hand while the right took to stroking the ice pack up and down her throat. He slid it lower when she hummed encouragement and let her shoulders loosen.
“For ticks?” she whispered, semi distracted as he used the cool gel pack to trace her clavicle. He felt her turn her mouth to his jaw and he grinned so hard he didn’t doubt that she would both see and feel it. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The whisper had been ten times sexier than it should have been for how lame a joke it was. But the tone of her voice had been wistful and wispy, all low breath and appreciation. Her kiss on his cheek was a promissory, guaranteeing more.
She gave up on holding the ice pack to his forehead and ran it down his cheek instead, her other hand making a similar motion down the other side of his face. It continued down smoothly to tug at his hoodie again, her movements subtle and comforting.
“Take this off before you overheat.”
He considered it a moment, just barely catching the last glint of evening’s light in her eyes as she smiled.
He’d do anything for her.
Even tick farming.