How Sparks Turned into Fire - Chapter 10
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs x reader
View: Gibbs's POV
Warnings: none
We spent a wonderful, romantic weekend together. Our first days and hours as a couple. We talked, had fantastic sex, and held each other with the firm intention of never letting go.
But inevitably, Monday morning rolled around again, and we had to report for duty. Yet the deck had been reshuffled. The lies had been swept away, the chaos sorted out, and the entire NCIS headquarters breathed a sigh of relief after the case from the previous week had been solved. At least, almost everyone did - for a few people, a major surprise was in store that day.
We were early. Far too early. The bullpen was still bathed in the dim light of early morning, and the rows of desks looked deserted. I stood by your desk while you booted up your computer. The professional distance we had worn like armor for months suddenly felt strange and unnecessary - and to be honest, it barely existed anymore.
"You forgot the coffee, Gibbs," you said without looking up from the screen, though the corners of your mouth twitched upward - a dead giveaway. "A major setback for your otherwise flawless morning routine."
“I didn’t,” I replied with my usual gruffness, stepping a little closer and placing a cup of freshly brewed black coffee next to your keyboard. “It was just too hot to carry.”
You looked up, and that deep, honest glow in your eyes - the one I had ignored for so long - hit me right in the chest. The sarcasm was still there, but the bitter edge of the past few weeks had vanished completely. You reached out, briefly touched my fingers, and pulled me down toward you by the hem of my jacket.
You gently pressed your lips against mine. It wasn’t a wild, desperate outburst like the ones in the days and weeks before. It was a tender, deep, and infinitely loving kiss in the office’s pale light. My lips met yours in a familiar, slow rhythm. My hand found its way to your cheek as if of its own accord, and I savored the feel of your soft skin beneath my rough fingers. You sighed softly against my mouth, and for a few seconds, we forgot where we were. It was a moment of pure, undisturbed intimacy…
…Until the familiar *ping* of the elevator shattered the silence.
We pulled apart—though far more slowly and calmly than we would have just a week ago. I took my hand off your cheek but remained standing right beside your chair, my arms loosely crossed over my chest.
DiNozzo, McGee, and Ziva stepped out of the elevator, laden with laptops, file folders, and donuts. They were laughing at some remark Tony had made, but the laughter died instantly when they saw the scene before them.
Tony froze mid-motion, a donut hovering dangerously close to his open mouth. His eyes darted from me to you, then to my hand - still resting suspiciously close to your shoulder - and finally to your slightly flushed, swollen lips.
“Oh my God,” McGee whispered, and a file folder promptly slipped from his hand, landing on the carpet with a loud thud. He didn’t even attempt to pick it up. “Boss? You... you two...?” he stammered in disbelief, struggling to process what he was seeing. Ziva studied us with a sharp, analytical gaze before a small, knowing smile spread across her face. "I knew it. The tension over the last few weeks wasn't due to a lack of sleep. You two have... how do you say... hit the pot of gold?"
"Hit the jackpot, Ziva," Tony corrected in a near-whisper, unable to tear his eyes away from us. He blinked repeatedly, as if expecting us to vanish into thin air. "The Boss. And... her. Together. In the same room. Without any shots fired or anyone blocking the elevator." He took a step forward, eyes wide. "Boss, tell me this is an undercover op. Tell me you were just trying to teach her how to whisper. If this is real, my entire worldview is collapsing."
You leaned back in your chair, interlaced your fingers, and looked at Tony with your best sarcastic smile. "DiNozzo, if your worldview hinges on my relationship status, you really need to rethink your priorities. And yes, it’s real. So pick up McGee’s folder before you trip over it."
Tony gasped and looked at me, as if waiting for that legendary smack to the back of the head that would wake him from this apparent dream.
But I didn’t move. Instead, I simply looked at the trio, my face a mask of absolute composure, even though there was an amused glint in my eyes. I reached for my own coffee cup, took a slow sip, and looked Tony straight in the eye. “She’s right, DiNozzo,” I said calmly. “Now get to work. The files won’t write themselves.”
McGee stammered a barely intelligible "Yes, Boss," hastily bent down to pick up the papers, and practically stumbled back to his desk. Ziva shook her head with a smile and walked gracefully to her seat. Only Tony lingered for a moment longer, glancing back and forth between us, shaking his head in disbelief, and muttering something about "the end of an era" before he, too, wandered off.
As quiet returned to the bullpen, I felt your gaze on me. I looked down. You were smiling - a warm, easy smile that told me the last of the weight had been lifted from us.
I leaned down toward you once more, ignoring the curious glances stealing over from the desks opposite, and planted a quick, tender kiss on your temple.
"Write the report, darling," I murmured softly.
"Yes, Boss," you replied with a soft giggle as I walked over to my own desk to write my report.
The secrets were over. And the team would just have to get used to it.
The End
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