Well, I can't seem to get away from Kibbs. As always, who knows how long this series will last, but eventually after enough of this series or the string of series(es), we'll have a Gibblet. I own nothing. Enjoy…

Special Agent Gibbs let himself in, careful to lock the door behind him. "Katie?" he called, loudly enough to announce himself if she was awake (and armed) and quietly enough not to wake her if she'd drifted off.

He could smell the familiar scent of logs burning in the fireplace, and he made his way to the adjoining living room. It had become Kate's sanctuary, where she preferred to relax in the evenings if she beat him home. Her book collection filled out the built in shelves, and her DVDs lined a lower shelf.

Tonight she was curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped lightly over her. He strongly suspected her Sig was under the cushion where her head rested. The lights were off, only the fire casting its soft orange glow around the room. On the coffee table he saw her Palm Pilot and her sketchbook.

Lifting it carefully so as not to wake her, Gibbs caught sight of her latest work in progress. It was a sketch of him, working on his boat. She had chosen to draw him from the back, shirtless. Strong, even lines depicted his shoulders and the muscles of his upper arm. Smirking, he flipped the cover over the page. Oh, he'd have to tease her about that later.

Gibbs sat on the edge of the coffee table and leaned forward. He carefully brushed back a stray lock of hair and straightened out the blanket. Sharp blue eyes traced the curve of his wife's belly, and he let his hand stray, resting lightly against the warm curve.

It had taken a while for Kate's body to give way to her pregnancy. She had always been so slender, her stomach almost concave. When they were in the middle of longer cases, he'd often slipped her a granola or protein bar. It was to be expected in their line of work—stress, irregular hours, and demanding work didn't give them much time to put on or keep on weight. Her doctor had delicately suggested that she try to gain a little extra weight with this pregnancy.

His thumb rubbed lightly against her. He didn't care what she weighed; only that she was healthy. She didn't like having to play Will It Fit? while getting dressed each morning, but he couldn't keep from touching the curve, at least when they were alone. Beautiful.

"When did you get in?" came the groggy voice, thick with sleep.

Gibbs gave her belly another light stroke, easing the blanket around her when she shivered. "Few minutes ago," he replied, voice hushed and soothing. "Feeling ok?"

"Mmmm," she hummed in a way that could go either direction, amber eyes narrow slits, blinking in the dim light.

His other hand lifted, stroking back her hair again and letting it linger on her forehead. McGee had come down with a cold the day before and was sent home only to show up again this morning. Gibbs had growled at his youngest agent, giving him a death glare. It took the probie half the morning of sniffling and coughing and frantically using hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes before he took the hint and went home. After Gibbs had ordered DiNozzo to drive him home, telling McGee there would be hell to pay if Kate came down with it.

"Katie?"

"Comfy," she answered, pressing slightly into his touch, her forehead warm enough to account for the blanket and fire but not warm enough to have a fever.

He pressed a soft kiss to her brow. "I'm going down for a while, you okay up here?"

She nodded, gave another yawn and curled back into her little nest on the couch.

NCIS * NCIS * NCIS * NCIS * NCIS

"Hey," Kate called softly, coming into the kitchen on Sunday morning. She toyed with the draw string to her sweat pants, a hoodie and trainers completing her outfit.

Gibbs gave her a smile before turning and pulling down a water bottle. He filled it and offered it. "I'm ducking out for a run."

Her brow wrinkled. Of course he was going on a run, which was exactly why she was up, too. He did it often in the morning, and in the past they often ran together. "Mind slowing down the pace today?"

Icy blue eyes watched her closely, weighing. "No, but you're sure you're up to it?"

She nodded confidently, even though she knew it would mean an afternoon nap. Still, she's worked long and hard to get in shape, and she wasn't going to let nine months and recovery mean losing all of her endurance and flexibility. Besides, all of her pregnancy books said that moderate exercise was good. Kate had no plans to run marathons, but a light jog… "Definitely."

Gibbs finished sipping his own coffee, tugging on a hoodie as he nodded toward her Sig and its holster. "No back up?"

She couldn't help but stiffen at the comment, bottom lip pouting slightly. "It doesn't fit around my calf," came her answer, teeth clenched.

He didn't say a word, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and she turned to go back upstairs when he caught her arm gently. "Run?" he asked, doing his best not to smile again.

With a sigh she nodded. "Okay… jog time," she agreed.

"We can get you a new calf hostler, Kate," he reminded her gently as they slipped out the front door and locked it behind them.

"I know… I just didn't think about it. Besides," she sighed, looking down and then back up at him. "At some point it will be impossible to bend over and reach a gun on my calf."

"Probably," he agreed, earning a punch to his shoulder and his wife starting off at a quick pace, leaving him behind for the first half block.