AUTHOR'S NOTE- You might consider this a Crack!fic, but I'm dedicating this load of fluff to MarziaRebafan, who is currently taking her college entrance exam. This came to me last night, surprisingly enough while I was brushing my teeth. :D
I also have to say that obviously you peoples didn't really like my previous fic, so I'm going back to my tested Jibbs waters.
Not beta'd and English is still not my mother tongue.

DISCLAIMER - I do not own it, but I'd love too. :D



It happened one morning, after she left with a quick peck on his lips. He walked into his bathroom, freezing in the doorframe when he saw it.

There it was, bright and green and mocking him - her toothbrush.

He kept looking at the offending item for a while, as if waiting for it to explain itself, to tell him what in the world was going on.

He didn't understand; they were supposed to be taking it slow, step by step, not wanting to rush into anything this time. Sure, there were deeper emotions in both of them, but they learnt by now how to ignore them.

So what the hell was her toothbrush doing in his bathroom, three months into their relationship?

Later that day, he strolled into her office like he owned it, being his usual self. She, however, instantly knew there was something on his mind, besides his current case. And she was pretty sure she knew exactly what it was that was bothering him, but she loved to watch him squirm a bit too much to help him out.

He stood in front of her desk, trying to find the words he had been rehearsing in his mind only a moment ago. He found none.

"Agent Gibbs?" - Jenny asked, a tad too provocatively.

He opened his mouth, closing it a second later. Nothing.

She couldn't help but smirk.

"Something on your mind, Jethro?"

The way his name rolled of her tongue, the way the word was dripping with desire made him twitch in all the right places.

She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

He turned around and stormed out of her office, but didn't get much past Cynthia's desk, before he was back, slamming the door shut and bee-lining to her desk again.

She lifted her amused eyes to him once again and didn't succumb to his stare.

"Jen…" - was all he managed this time.

"Jethro, what is bothering you? Is it the case? Or is it something completely different?"

"Jen, why did you leave it?"

"Leave what where?"

But amidst her teasing, she realised that this might just be more serious than she had originally intended it to be.

He took a deep breath, as if readying himself to plummet hundred feet headlong into nothingness.

"Why did you leave your toothbrush at my place?"

She could have lied, could have said she had forgotten it and then picked it up the next day.

But that was not what she wanted, not what she needed.

"Jethro," - she began, putting down her glasses and pen. "I know it might be a bit too early, but let's be honest - half the mornings I wake up in your bed. And I really don't want to be carrying my toothbrush in my bag."

She stood up and walked slowly towards him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"And I want to have a fresh breath when I kiss you goodbye," - she smiled sweetly to him, before leaving the softest of kisses on his lips.

He could feel himself relax into her touch, his hands going to her waist. He turned them around, so that he was leaning against the table, her in his arms.

"Those are not the only reasons, are they?" - he whispered after some time.

He could feel a smile forming against his neck and a slow, deliberate shake of her head.

"Okay," - he said without missing a beat, kissing her one more time and leaving her office with a genuine smile of his own.

Not a word about it was spoken afterwards and it was only a week later that she got her confirmation he really understood what she meant.

There it was, after he had left her house, his yellow toothbrush in her bathroom.