A/N: Lo dears... hhhmmm 7 I think this is... at any rate its not mine... Not even so sure I wanna claim the storyline...

Next up is... Firefly/Serenity... Agitation

Sex Type Thing

Never, ever get caught with your pants down.

"This hurts you know." Ari says, voice light, sitting casually beside Gibbs' boat, legs daggling.

"That was the idea." Jethro explains, tossing aside the NCIS duffle he's carrying, watching the Mossad officer look nonplussed.

"You weren't expecting me." He states simply.

"I was hoping they'd kill you… But no, this isn't a surprise." Gibbs moves to take down the bourbon bottle, Ari sliding off the work bench.

He comes to a stop beside Gibbs, their knees brushing. He pulls the bottle free from a curled hand and fills the cup. Leaning back against the counter, their eyes lock as Ari tilts the bottle up to his lips, liquor slipping passed the parted mouth. Gibbs is disappointed when he doesn't choke.

"You must enjoy being shot." Gibbs snorts jerking away abruptly, stomach protesting… stomach protesting whenever they were in the same room. The same state even…

"Building a boat in your basement… How…" The low tone coupled with the smooth accent irritates him.

"Do you want something?" He snaps, downing more of the hot liquid.

"No." Ari says taking another swallow.

"Nothing particular anyway." His hand drifts up to rub the uninjured shoulder, Jethro's eyes tracking the movement. He his attention shifts to the planks of wood, deciding whether he's up for major construction work tonight.

"Why was it only my shoulder?" Jethro looks back to find that the hands wondered across to worry at the white patched wound.

"Why not three inches lower… Why not kill me." He's almost rambling to himself, his eyes lowered, shoulders slumped.

"You complaining?"

"I'm sure Gerald is."

"Is asshole penned in on your contract? Or is it a personality trait?"

"I was trained as an agent from birth, by now it is even more than a trait…" The sigh that goes with it is tired, not so full of its usual arrogance.

"Are you really such a Bastard…" He takes another drink moving around the wooden frame, hands stroking over the coarse structure.

"Yes." Gibbs answers without hesitation, stepping forward to meet him, blocking the narrow walkway.

"What are you doing here?"


"Tony I need those reports done today." Gibbs snaps shifting restlessly in his chair, the bruises tainting his back aching under the touch of the chair.

"Sure thing Boss." Tony assures and then goes right back to teasing Kate, thinking he doesn't know.

Gibbs downs yet another cup of coffee and goes back to staring blankly at his computer screen, unsure of what he's even suppose to be doing on it. Minute stretch out and both run together at the same time. The clock taking forever to tick away a minute and then losing twenty to make up for it.

He shifts forward in the chair and finds that it helps as little as it did last time, fabric scratching the tender skin still. He shrugs out of his jacket and unbuttons the stiff material after everyone's gone for the night.

"Jesus Boss hoe you enjoyed that." He fights the urge to jump and instead moves to pull his jacket back on.

"Thought you'd gone Tony." He mumbles, rising from his desk.

"Forgot my cell Boss…" Tony stands staring at Gibbs, looking over the strange expression, one that he can't place.

"So ummm…" There's something off, his boss after all isn't the only one with a stomach. Unfortunately Tony also doesn't know how to ask about it either.

"Night Boss…" He eventually lets it go, decides that whatever Gibbs has got going on that leaves huge bruises across his back, that look a lot like the ones Tony got the time he'd had sex on a flight of stairs, well he's probably not invited to give comment or suggestion…