A/N: This is for Aly. Because I offered a story a few days back...maybe a week...and am just getting around to providing it. Takes place, oh, sometime circa the end of 'Trojan Horse', after Jenny returns from her Interpol Anti-Terrorism Conference (season 4). Notice in one scene: Gibbs has to sign off on something for Cynthia, and he rather violently throws a pen down towards her.

The last thing Jenny Shepard did before she left her office was shut the blinds. She smiled softly at the starry view of the harbor from her window before she closed them, and snatched her red coat off of her high-backed chair and picked up her briefcase, exiting the office.

She paused by Cynthia's desk as she passed; watching Cynthia perform the same actions as she in her preparations to leave. Jenny hadn't had much of a chance to speak with her assistant since she'd returned from Paris, but the younger woman was acting strangely. Particularly around Agent Gibbs.

"Cynthia," she said gently, smiling again as her assistant looked up in question.

"How did everything really go while I was gone?" she asked, tilting her head. She'd only had time to ask her in passing as she hit the ground running, and Cynthia had mumbled a muted 'fine' in response.

Somehow, Jenny doubted things had gone 'fine' with Gibbs in charge.

"Oh," Cynthia said, looking nervous. "It was decent. Nothing major happened. Agent Gibbs was,"

Cynthia stopped, looking unsure of what to say. Jenny simply arched an eyebrow in encouragement and Cynthia seemed to make a snap decision.

"Agent Gibbs was mean!"

She started to cover her mouth after the accusation, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry. I mean, he wasn't—I got on his nerves, I think, he called me a nag and—he threw a pen at me, sort of—it was a rough toss…he was mean, but maybe he was just being Gibbs, I don't…"

"Cynthia," Jenny laughed, holding up her hand and shaking her head, "I have no doubt Agent Gibbs was the pinnacle of unmanageable and rude."

Cynthia smiled a little, still looking nervous.

"I'll take care of him," Jenny said, nodding goodnight.

"Director!" she heard Cynthia call out in fear as she left.

Jenny ran her hand along the rail of the catwalk, looking over the bullpen surreptitiously. The lights were dim. For once, everyone had gone home. Even the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Hell, even she was getting out early.

She remained silent as her driver took her home, running a manicured finger over the buttons on her blackberry, considering her next action. As she reached her front door and unlocked it, she pressed in speed dial one and lifted the blackberry to her ear.

"Gibbs," came his gruff answer mere seconds later.

"Jethro," she growled, getting the point across that she was angry. She didn't wait for a response. "Get over here," she ordered, hanging up without another word.

Jenny smiled as she flung her pea coat down over the banister and made her way into the study. All she had to do now was wait. She'd bet any amount of money it would take him all of ten minutes to high-tail it over.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared suspiciously at his phone, watching the little numbers blink that signaled the end of a call.

What the hell did she want?

Glaring at the mug of bourbon he was going to have to leave behind, he grabbed his keys off the workbench and stalked up the stairs, grumbling to himself. He didn't exactly take to being ordered to show up on her doorstep, but then again…he couldn't exactly ignore a request by Jenny for him to come over late at night.

Just in case she wanted to do something other than yell at him.

He glared through the windshield on the way over to her Georgetown brownstone, and glared at her front door on the trek up to her porch. As if glaring was going to give him the upper hand. It might.

In a split second he decided he wasn't going to be polite and knock. He just opened the door and strode into her house…

…and a three-inch-heel came flying at him from the darkened study. Luckily, he caught it. Unluckily, it hit him in the forehead with the pointy part before he did.

He jerked the heel down from his face and glared into the abyss as he approached, holding it up menacingly.

"What the hell?"

"How does it feel to have things thrown at you, Jethro?" she asked smartly.

He stopped in the doorway, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't know," he replied shortly, "you tell me," and he threw it back at her with just as much force.

Jenny caught it with her little finger, letting it dangle from a loop mockingly. She arched an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something. Jethro glared at her pointedly before stepping into the room.

"Did I miss something, Jen?" he demanded, scowling. "I didn't throw anything at you," he snorted, referring to her original question.

"Well, actually, Jethro, you just threw a shoe at me…"

"Jen," he cut her off sharply.

Jenny gave him a lopsided smirk and then narrowed her eyes, schooling her features. She stood up and came around the desk, leaning against it and folding her arms.

"What?" he asked finally, tired of her meaningful glaring.

"Cynthia claims you threw a pen at her," Jenny informed him, "and you were mean."

Jethro stayed silent for a moment. He sorted through his options. He could deny; he could justify it. He could do something completely asinine to make her angry about something else. Or he could—

"Cynthia started it."

—point the finger like a five-year-old.

Jenny arched an eyebrow even higher, staring.

"She did," Jethro maintained, "She wouldn't leave me alone."

"Oh, I see. You were upset because she was doing her job."

"Y—no," Jethro changed mid-sentence. He glared suspiciously at Jenny. Jenny sighed.

"Why couldn't you just play nice, Jethro?"

"I did!"

"Throwing pens at secretaries is not nice," Jenny reprimanded, "at least, not in civilized society."

Jethro narrowed his eyes, stepping closer until he forced her to look up at him. She unfolded her arms and rested them on the edge of the desk, tilting her head up.

"I didn't throw a pen at Cynthia," he growled.

Jenny gave him a skeptical look.

"I tossed the pen on a clipboard and it misfired."

Jenny laughed ironically.

"I am so grateful to you for clarifying that, Jethro," she commented, rolling her eyes. She fell silent and looked at him searchingly, tilting her head the other way. "But it's not going to cut it," she sighed, shifting a little.

Jethro stiffened his shoulders suddenly and glared at her. Was that her hand creeping up his leg?

"You don't have any appreciation for apologies," she chided silkily.

Jenny smiled innocently at him. She ran her hand along his beltline, pursing her lips sweetly.

"Cynthia works hard," she said softly, accentuating the last word suggestively, "she deserves an apology."

Jethro stared at her. He set his jaw and swallowed hard, biting back a groan as she ran her hand over him lightly.

"Don't you think so, Jethro?"

He nodded. His mouth had gone to dry to speak.

"Then you'll apologize tomorrow? First thing in the morning?"

She received another wordless nod. Jethro leaned forward, his hands taking the place of hers on the edge of the desk. Jenny smiled, leaning back so he couldn't rest his head against her shoulder and putting her mouth close to his ear.

"Apologize to Cynthia, nicely," she bribed, "and I'll finish this after."

She drew her hand back, leaving him cold, and folded her arms again, crossing her legs and looking at him with an arched eyebrow. Jethro leaned back slightly and glared at her, grumbling in annoyance.

When it became clear she was dead serious, he turned and stormed out, slamming her front door purposefully.

Cynthia Summers deliberately didn't make eye contact with Agent Gibbs as he breezed into her office bright and early. She didn't, at least, until his shadow fell across her and she was forced to look up from her very important typing to swallow bracingly and smile a little.

"Good Morning, Agent Gibbs," she greeting softly.

"Cynthia," he greeted, falling silent and giving her his classic unnerving stare.

She swallowed again, growing nervous. Jenny had said she would take care of this...

"I'm sorry I was rude to you."

Her eyes widened. Looking as though it was physically pained him, after giving her a shut-up glare, Agent Gibbs continued:

"And for throwing that pen."

He nodded to her again and turned without another word, barging into Jenny's office and kicking the door shut right as Cynthia picked up the phone.

"Director?" she asked breathlessly…

…"Yes, Cynthia?" Jenny asked coolly, her eyes following Jethro as he banged through the door and then kicked it shut just as forcefully, giving her a pointed glare.

She uncrossed her legs and un-twirled the cord of the phone from around her finger, waving two fingers at Jethro teasingly from their place gripping the edge of the desk she sat on.

"He did?" she asked Cynthia, managing to sound mildly surprised.

Jethro approached her stealthily and slid a hand up the column of her neck, pulling her close to him and placing his face dangerously close to hers.

"I wonder what made him do that…" Jenny mused, lifting an eyebrow. She curled a leg around Jethro's and lifted her hand from the desk next to her, dipping three fingers into the waistband of his pants.

"Cancel my nine o'clock, Cynthia," Jenny ordered, interrupting something the young assistant was saying. She didn't wait for a reply and lightly hung up the phone. Jethro slipped the hand he'd placed at her waist around behind her and picked something up from her desk, bringing the hand back around and throwing an ink pen at her gently.

Jenny let it fall to the floor.

"Happy?" he growled

Jenny nodded solemnly and a smirk broke out over her face.

"You're going to have to apologize to me now," she informed him, "for throwing that pen."

Jethro tilted her head back slightly, just lifting an eyebrow. Jenny smirked again and lifted her hand up to his collar, pulling him closer by both his lapels and his belt and giving him a hard, demanding kiss.

She proceeded to give him a whole new lesson in apology appreciation.