Gigi Sinclair

I never thought I was the first person to rock Gibbs's casbah. Given his age and his marriages, that would have been too weird even for him, although, come to think of it, it would have explained the divorces. I didn't even think I was the first guy to park his loafers---or his army boots---under Gibbs's bed. Gibbs was too good with the equipment to have been restricted to playing at home, if you get my meaning. But I was surprised to hear I wasn't his first dive into the company pool.

"Where do you think Rule 12 came from?" Gibbs asked, as I lay beside him in his bed. For all his and Kate's philosophizing about women liking to have sex in their own beds, Gibbs was pretty fond of his four-poster. And I knew it wasn't the mess in my place turning him off, because I'd been running the vacuum at least once a month lately. Kind of. When I remembered.

"I don't know. I didn't realize you'd tried these things before you banned them."

Gibbs snorted, which was his equivalent of laughing, which was odd because this didn't strike me as particularly funny.

I pulled up the sheet, which, unlike my sheets at home, was Egyptian and had a thread-count and hadn't come from the "slightly irregular" bin at Target, and rolled over to face him. "So who was he?"

Gibbs sighed. "I don't want to talk about it, Tony."

Tough. "I do." I put my hand on his chest hair, still damp from our earlier fun, and batted my eyelashes. What can I say, it's a gift.

"She," Gibbs said, "Was my second wife."

"Oh." I hadn't been expecting that. That was really all I wanted to know, but of course, now Gibbs had started, there was no stopping him. Not that I usually complained about that.

"She was a rookie agent at the same time as me. Kind of like you and Kate," he mused, "Only she was a redhead and I had some class."

"Didn't scratch your crotch in front of her, huh?"

"Not until the honeymoon."

I smiled at him, trying to look like someone who wasn't jealous of his lover's ex-wife. I wasn't jealous, really. Hell, I was in Gibbs's bed and Ex-Wife Number Two, if I remembered rightly, was living with a real estate agent in Alexandria, so who had cause to be jealous, right? "So things didn't work out, huh?"

"It," Gibbs replied, with typical restraint, "Was a complete fucking disaster. I swore I would never date anyone I worked with again."

I couldn't resist. "Then you met me and changed your mind."

"No," Gibbs replied, smugly. "Then I met you and realized you'd never shut up if I didn't give you what you wanted." True enough. And, at the moment, what I wanted was a kiss, quick, relatively restrained and nearly, but not quite, enough to get Little Tony interested again. Gibbs read my mind, then rolled over and turned out the light.

As soon as the room went dark, I felt a twinge of guilt. I sighed and lay beside him, resting my hand on his waist. "You're not my first, either." He grunted. "I mean, I've dated co-workers before, too."

"Some donut-loving Baltimore beat cop?"

Actually, there had been one of those, but the motel sex with the closeted, married vice lieutenant wasn't what I felt guilty about. A little grossed-out now, maybe, but not guilty. "Since then."

"Oh, yeah?" Gibbs sounded slightly more interested, but he didn't turn over. "Who? McGee?"

"No! God." I shuddered. It would be like sleeping with Richie Cunningham, minus the street smarts. "Rabb."

That got Gibbs to turn over. "What?"

"Harm Rabb. Over at JAG. Just two or three times, though." I thought about it. "Maybe four."

"Rabb?" Gibbs repeated. Even in the sliver of light coming from between the blinds, I could see his scowl. "Why?"

"He has a really cool watch."

"What?"

Harmon Rabb was the kind of guy I liked. Big, handsome, macho, with huge hands and wide shoulders and hair that looked like it had been styled with a ruler. Totally full of himself, of course, but right after I met him, when Vivian was still with us and Kate was just a glimmer on the horizon, Harm asked me to join him for a beer. I went, because his personality was the last thing I was interested in.

I was pleasantly surprised when Rabb's idea of "a beer" included a blowjob in the parking lot, followed by some drunken slobbery sex on the couch in his military apartment, followed by some leftover meatless lasagne and an order to, "Give me a call sometime." I did, even though by the second round of fumbling and vegetarian cuisine I knew Rabb wanted Colonel McKenzie, and I wanted Gibbs. That didn't keep me from enjoying it when Rabb pushed me down on his big, military cock, his 24-time-zone waterproof Rolex whacking me in the ear as I went.

"Gibbs." He stared at me, and I shifted on the bed. "Come on, boss, you have to admit, he's pretty easy to look at."

"So's Kate," Gibbs snapped back, and I wasn't sure where that fit in. "So's Abby. So's McGee, for God's sake. And none of them are officers." He stared at me like I'd admitted to going down on one of Ducky's patients. The less than sexually---or otherwise---active kind. "Or lawyers."

"Look, it didn't mean anything, OK?" To either of us, and when it stopped, I wasn't that sorry.

"Damn right it didn't," Gibbs frowned, then ordered: "Get over here. Now."

There were less than six inches of bed space between us, but apparently, that was too big a space for Gibbs to re-stake his claim on me. Which he did, energetically and with great skill, even if he didn't have a Rolex.

***

Mac was already at the office when Harm got in on Monday morning. She didn't look up when he came in, which was his first clue something was up.

"Hey, you OK?"

Mac stared at her computer screen. "I thought Garrison might have left a message about the El Khadija case, so I checked your voicemail. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You know I don't keep anything from you." Harm took off his coat. "Little windy out there. I hope it's not going to snow."

Mac sighed. "Garrison didn't call, anyway."

"Then I'll have to call her. You don't have her number on you, do you?"

Now, Mac looked up. "A man left you a message. He didn't leave his name, but he wants you to know, if you ever, and I quote, 'fuck with DiNozzo again', he'll rip your balls off."

"What?" Harm blinked.

Mac stood, gathering her papers. "It's always something with you, Harm. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize that it will always be something."

Harm felt a wave of panic rising in his chest. "Listen, Mac, I don't know what he's talking about. He must have the wrong guy." Harm hadn't slept with anyone in months. Not since that skinny NCIS guy, what was his name, the one with the hair and the thing for his supervisor... "Tony."

Mac's look of pure annoyance turned to pity, with a hearty side helping of annoyance. "I hope you're very happy with her. Just watch out for your balls. I'm sure Toni is fond of them." She stalked away. Harm grabbed his phone and fumbled with his PDA until he found Tony's cellphone number, mentally preparing a speech about professional confidentiality, not to mention common courtesy, and just who the hell was Tony dating who would leave a message like that on a guy's work voicemail, especially a naval lawyer's work voicemail? Then, a voice barked:

"Gibbs," and Harm immediately had the answer to his question.

Well, he thought, at least Tony had got what he wanted. Harm had to be pleased about that. He had nothing against Tony. Annoying as hell and full of himself, Harm had known that from the beginning, but he did give great head.

"Wrong number," Harm said, hanging up the phone and tossing the PDA onto his desk. Then, he went to suck up to Mac.