Author's Note: The characters may come off as OOC, and I apologize for that, but that is part of why a crack!fic warning was used in the summary.
Last time I checked, English still wasn't my first language and this wasn't beta'd. Therefore, Microsoft Words and I are to blame for all grammar mistakes and imperfections.

It was a quiet night of relaxation for Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It would have maybe been too quiet for everybody else, but he didn't mind. He revelled in the silence of his basement, with his bourbon and his boat keeping him company, and the slow, rhythmic scraping of the sanding block against the wood being the only sound in the room. It was his safe place, where he could let his guard down completely, and he wouldn't have wanted anything better than to spend the night like this.

The case was closed, he had not stepped on anybody's toes, much to his Director's delight - the thought caused him to smile slightly - and now he could enjoy his first weekend off in weeks.

He had been working on the boat for a little over three hours, and it couldn't have been later than two in the morning when his front door squeaked, alerting him to somebody entering his house. The telltale clicking of high heels on his floor revealed who the intruder was, and he settled back with a smile, waiting for her to walk down the stairs.

Suddenly a loud crash and a string of curse words wafted down to the basement, and he was running up the stairs in a matter of seconds, the sanding block forgotten on the floor. When he reached the landing, he was faced with the slightly wobbly figure of Director Jenny Shepard brushing dust off her jacket sleeve.

"Jen…you okay?"

She looked up at him with hazy eyes and nodded, "Not sure your pile of books there is as okay as I am." She answered vaguely, her voice slurred.

Gibbs fought to keep himself from laughing right out loud. He took in her distraught appearance, her dishevelled hair, flushed cheeks, unsteady stance; he had seen her drunk before, but she had only been this wasted once, many years ago in London.

"Doesn't matter about the books, come here." He said calmly, still willing himself not to smirk as he grabbed her arm gently and started to lead Jenny to the kitchen.

"No no no no no, let's go downstairs…" She whined, blinking and fixating him with her misty green eyes as she tugged at his hand and leant heavily against his shoulder at the same time.

"You sure you can manage the stairs?"

"Of course I can!" Her voice was shrill and high-pitched, and Gibbs gave up on hiding his amusement as he stepped behind her and guided her down the stairs, chuckling under his breath.

"You know, I'm not gonna fall. I can walk perfectly straight." Jenny complained as she started to walk down the stairs with his hands hovering around her waist, ready to catch her if she fell.

"Tell that to my books." Gibbs muttered, trying to contain his laughter again as Jenny turned her head sharply and threw him a glare that was supposed to be menacing, but lost all of its power as she stumbled in the process. "Now, look ahead when you walk." He whispered in her ear, his hands clutching her waist firmly to steady her.

Jenny murmured something unintelligible that could have been an expression of gratitude or something else entirely, but didn't complain about his holding her anymore until they reached the basement floor with no more accidents and he let go of her.

"How'd you get here, Jen?" Gibbs asked walking to the boat to pick up the sanding block from the floor and placing it on the workbench with the rest of his utensils.

"I drove." She answered airily, giggling shamelessly when he turned to glare at her, "Kidding. Friend drove me here."

Gibbs let out a silent sigh of relief, "Why here?"

"'Cause I need to talk to you." Jenny looked at him lazily and slid down along the hull of the boat, sitting on the floor and patting the dusty, empty space next to her. "Come here, big boy."

He smiled at her antics and crossed the room to sit next to her, glancing at her sideways as if willing her to start talking.

"I think leaving you was a mistake." She started out staring ahead and drawing her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Mmhmm." He let out a noncommittal sound, and tried to conceal his surprise at the sudden confession as he leant his head back against the wood, waiting to hear what else she had to say.

"And I think that my 'no off the job' rule sucks."

"Mmhmm." A small smirk graced his lips, but he refused to openly agree or disagree with her yet. Although, if he had allowed himself to, he would have had to agree with her on that point.

"And I've missed you a lot in these past six years, even though I didn't tell you." She paused, sighing and leaning her head against his shoulder, her eyes closing as if on their own accord as her head buzzed from the large amount of liquor she had ingested all night. "I was wrong."

"Yeah, you were."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Jenny's head snapped up, her eyes open even though the sudden movement made her sick, "Would you stop agreeing with me, Jethro? I wanna argue!" She growled.

Gibbs couldn't help but smirk, "So you don't mean any of what you just said? You just wanted me to disagree so we could argue?"

"YES!" Jenny yelled, smacking his chest hard. "Well…no…" She looked confused for a moment, and he thought fleetingly that she couldn't have looked cuter if she tried. "I don't know, I'm tired. And drunk." She added, sighing loudly and cuddling into his side, closing her eyes to block out the dizziness. Gibbs let out a low rumble of laughter that echoed deep in his chest, and Jenny snorted, "I'd glare at you for laughing if I weren't so damn sick."

Gibbs chuckled and draped an arm around her shoulders gently, "Why'd you come here, Jen?" He whispered into her hair.

She shrugged, her eyes still tightly shut, "Just wanted to be with you." She slurred, her voice faltering as sleep tugged at her consciousness. "I really missed you." Her murmur was lost in the soothing silence of the basement as she fell asleep with her face burrowed in his neck, and he waited for her soft snoring to fill the silence before he dared move at all.

"I missed you too, Jen." He whispered, placing the softest kiss on her red curls and pulling her closer. He would have had to move her and get her in bed soon, and tomorrow she would probably have to face the worst hangover of her life, but right now there was nothing he wanted more than just holding her tight and watching her sleep.