Episode "Shalom"

Warning: Slash, McGibbs, and no I don't own NCIS. Wish I did though. Get some slashy goodness in that show. *grin* And if they wouldn't allow a slash pairing then I'd at least throw in a gay undercover operation.

Yeah *sigh and pout* definitely don't own.

Anyway, on with the story. Sequel to "The Stranger" and story #7 in the Ziva: McGee's Keeper series.

Remember Me


He grunted, his hands holding on tight to the hips as he thrust into the heat. Oh God the tight heat. The delicious moans and gasps in his ear spurred him on, thrusting faster and harder as nails dug into his back. The heat coiled in his gut, a sign that he needed to cum. But he didn't want to. No, not yet.

In a surprise move that wretched a gasp from his partner, he rolled over and sat up, his lover sitting in his lap, his dick going in deeper. A guttural groan falling from his lover's lips. He held on as they rose up and ground back down, nails digging into the pale soft hips that were under his rough hands as the pleasure was riding high. His tongue licked at the nipples in front of him, sucking and nibbling on the hardened nubs, a pleasured moan coming from above him.

His head was pulled back and lips came crashing down on him, his lover's arms wound tight around his neck to hold on to him. Their bodies thrusting and grinding together, moving as one and becoming one. He bit their bottom lip and they threw their head back, mouth hanging open as they came in orgasm, him instantly following as the heat spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck," he grunted as they slumped down, trying to catch their breath together.

"Mmm," his lover hummed. "Love you Jethro."

He looked down at his lover, love, and partner, to stare into the loving bright green eyes of Timothy McGee.

"Shit," he awoke with a gasp.

Gibbs looked around him, almost expecting to find McGee in bed with him, but instead he found a few empty beer bottles with the sun shining through the window. Grunting as he got up, he stretched, his back cracking, and did his business before walking outside.

As always, the view was beautiful, the waves and the sun and the sky. Mike was up on the roof, probably had been up watching the sun rise. Gibbs has seen a few and though they were beautiful along with the view and how easy life is, he felt something was missing in his life.

He's been gone from NCIS for a few months now, and though life has been carefree and no worries—and he mourned the loss of Shannon and Kelly again—he's been getting a bit restless. There wasn't anything to do as there was only so much you had to fix in the little house that Mike built. There was only so much beer you could drink before you started on alcoholism and getting a beer gut that he tried to stay away from.

And quite frankly, there was only so many nonproductive days he could take. After mourning his girls, he started missing his job. Mostly his team. DiNozzo's movie quotes and facts, his playfulness and jokes that resulted in head-slap after head-slap. Ziva with her strength and protectiveness of her partners. Not to mention her mess ups on American idioms. Abby and her…Abby-ness. Her Caf-Pow! addiction and her babbling when her mouth tried to keep up with her scattered brain. Ducky and his stories that no one really wanted to hear. He even missed Palmer and his nervousness and the way he always found a way to say something inappropriate at a crime scene. Something that had Gibbs' hand itching to give him his own head-slap.

But mostly, which surprised him, he missed McGee. The young man and his tech-babbling that he got excited about. And even when no one cared or understood what the hell he was talking about, apart from Abby, they couldn't interrupt him and smiled at his enthusiasm. The way he was able to keep the team calm when emotions were high or how he was able to push the team if they ever get discouraged at not finding clues or running nowhere with the few clues they had. McGee was sort of the silent support of the team. Then there was the way his eyes glowed whenever excited or happy or how he got puppy eyes when sad. Pure puppiness that made anyone who saw it, didn't matter if it was the Director or some terrorist, want to hug him and tell him it would be alright.

And the way he blushed…

He groaned as he rubbed his hands down his face and through his hair. This wasn't the first time his thoughts went to McGee like that, and it didn't help that his dreams always went sexual with McGee. It was pure frustrating.

"You alright there Probie?"

Gibbs looked up and nodded absently to Mike who was staring at him from the roof. "Yeah."

"Lot on your mind?"

He shrugged. "Just trying to remember more memories."

Which was a little true. Another thing he did whenever he found himself utterly bored, he tried to get back his memories. They were slowly coming back. Like how he remarried three times, all redheads. His main goal to replace his first wife but not being able to make it work in the end. No doubt he loved all three ex-wives, but he only let himself love them to a point and it was different. He remembered making his own team, DiNozzo, Kate, and McGee. Ari killing Kate and their team getting Ziva, who killed her own half-brother in his basement.

Cases and situations the team has had to face were coming back. But what was the most frustrating to him was every time he came to the case where they had to stakeout and he paired with Ziva while Tony paired with McGee, he came to a wall. And if there was anything he hated most, it was not being able to control something about himself, not being able to recall a moment in his life.

The ringing of his cell came from inside, and after a last glance to the calming ocean, he headed inside to see who was calling.



He frowned. "Ziva? What's wrong?"

"I need your help."

A/N: Sorry it took me forever to get this up. I haven't seen "Shalom" yet (I didn't finally get into NCIS until they were in their 7th season because of all the marathons USA run so I'm still playing catching up on the episodes) and I was trying to decide how to begin this story.

So...review, alert, favorite. Whatever floats your boat. :) Everything you do is appreciated and helps me continue writing.