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IMAGINE: On nights like these, private NCIS agent Gibbs would rather be down in his basement working on a project. He wasn’t one to go out to bars or spend all night playing some game online like his coworkers. Tonight, however, thanks to a bit of liquid courage, you show him another way to enjoy the night. WORD COUNT: 767 WARNINGS: Fluff with our favorite hard ass agent, mentions of heavy alcohol intake

Gibbs can’t think of the last time he felt this content. There were moments he’d prefer to hide in his dimly lit basement; working on his projects and sipping on his bourbon.

This time he was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter sipping on tepid coffee he found lying around. It would’ve been a shame to let it go to waste. 

Unfamiliar music played softly in the background, tempting him to shut it off, to enjoy the silence. But from past experience, Gibbs knew that if even tried shutting it off, he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Instead, he settled for enjoying his rapidly cooling caffeine boost, successfully hiding his grin behind his mug.

There weren’t many things that could convince him to ignore urges like that; his coworkers could count on one hand what could.  

“Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to join me?” You teased from across the room, slowly swaying along to the music. 

Not even Tony would ever guess that his stone-faced boss would ever be put in his place by a lover. 

“I’m fine with just enjoying the show,” Gibbs replied. 

“You’re no fun, Jethro,” you pouted. Before he could say anything, you swiped up your own mug from the kitchen table, loudly drinking down the contents. You pulled away with a whine, signaling you finished it sooner than you liked. 

“Is that from that bottle Tobias tried bribing me with?” Your boyfriend questioned. “I thought he knew better than that.” 

He pointed to the dark bottle left on the table, squinting to see how much was left in it. 

“Honey.” It wasn’t often that Jethro used pet names, so this sudden use caught you off guard. “That damn thing is almost empty, I think you’ve had enough.”

Maybe that was true. On your second glass, you had spilled some wine on your shirt, prompting you to replace it with one of the oversized navy sweatshirts Jethro kept around. He had yet to comment about you stealing his shirt, but based on his smirk, he didn’t mind. 

“Finish it with me then,” you pleaded. 

“I’ll stick with my joe,” he assured, lifting his mug to prove it.  

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the wine bottle, almost knocking it off the table. It didn’t click in your head how fast Jethro moved; first, he was next to the fridge and now he was by your side holding the bottle you had almost knocked to the floor. 

“Thank you for proving my point,” he grumbled, begrudgingly pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking around for a stopper. 

“I was gonna put it away,” you grumbled back. 

You paid no mind to Jethro’s complaints, choosing instead to slide across the kitchen floor in time with the music. Your sock covered feet drifted smoothly against the linoleum tiling, sending you into the counter that your boyfriend previously occupied. Unfazed by the crash, you gracefully take a seat on said counter, ignoring the fact you almost fell over attempting to do so. 

“Don’t go too crazy there, I’d rather have you in one piece,” Jethro chided. He kept an eye on you as he stuck the bottle in the fridge. Before he could even shut the door properly, you started tugging on his shirt, silently begging him to come closer. 

“What are you doing, huh?” He asked. 

“I wanna dance,” you mumbled. 

“You want to dance?” Jethro repeated. He didn’t bother hiding back a smile this time as he watched you thumb the buttons on his collar. “May I remind you you’re pretty drunk at the moment? Do you think you’re up for the job?” 

Eager to prove him wrong, you hop down from the counter (With Gibbs subtly steadying you) and pull him close. 

“Oh, this means you want to dance with me?” He asked cheekily.  

At this point the music became a softer tune, encouraging Jethro to join you. What else could he do but oblige? 

The two of you began to sway, holding each other close. Neither of you spoke, choosing to simply lean into the other and enjoy the moment. 

Gibbs couldn’t think of the last time he felt this content. Having you here in his arms, not having to worry about Tony and Ziva bickering like children or Timothy getting picked on by said agents. He could just relax in the privacy of his own home with you. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“For what?” You drowsily teased, feeling the effects of the alcohol slowing hitting you. 

“For being you.”