Kiss!Meme Stories
#1: Last Kiss
“We’ve said it all before,” he whispered into her ear as he bent close. Her hands were on his elbows, her hair brushing his cheek. She smelled of that Victoria’s Secret lotion she liked and a hint of whatever she’d been cooking in the kitchen. Her hands moved up his arms and around his neck as she turned her lips to his and kissed him tenderly. It was sweet, full of promise for when he finally came home. Her lips teased his, the same playfulness as the first time she’d kissed him, gentle and sweet. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I will come home safe for you.”
“I know you will,” She took a deep breath. “Be careful out in that desert, Jethro.”
Again, his lips found hers and she tightened herself against him. Behind them, they heard the door to the house slam shut and Shannon pulled back. “I’ll go ease her broken heart.” He nodded and glanced back to the house.
“Stay safe, Shan.”
“You too, babe.” She touched his cheek and then vanished inside, leaving the door open. He waited a moment, hoping his baby girl would come flying back outside. A moment later she did, crying for him, and he dropped to his knees and crushed her to him.
“I’ll be home soon, Kelly.”
She sobbed into his shoulder. “Don’t get hurt, Daddy.”
“I won’t,” he whispered. “I promise.” But they all knew it was empty. Anything could happen to him over there. So Kelly clung tighter and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, holding her for as long as he could. He never wanted to let go.
#2: First Kiss Note: taken from the fic that's been put together about them.
He parked in the drive; she pulled up in front and cut the engine of her car. Jethro watched her get out, leaving her jacket and purse in her trunk. She also kicked off her heels and walked across the lawn barefoot, swinging the heels from the little strap that somehow had held them to her ankles.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a house like this?” She asked, taking a place on the top stair of the porch. He settled next to her and opened beers for both of them. “Seems a bit much for a guy like you.”
He recognized the signs of fishing when he saw them and shrugged. He’d start off slow. Bringing up how it was the house he’d bought with Shannon and he couldn’t bear to part with seemed a bit heavy for what would possibly be their only conversation. “I like to work with my hands and I need a basement.”
“For building what? Boats?”
“Yeah, actually.” He snorted a bit and rolled his eyes. He never would have guessed she’d figure it out.
Her face broke out in a delighted smile for a minute, Jethro forgot to breathe. “I’d love to see that. Power tools and all?”
“By hand.”
She shook her head. “Wow. I didn’t think I’d meet this when I went out tonight.”
“Why did you go out tonight?”
She rolled her eyes and stared up at the stars. “Because the walls were closing in.”
“Sounds like a stock answer from someone who is smarter than that.”
“You don’t know how smart I am. I mean, I ended up at the house of a stranger.”
“You’re pretty smart.” He gestured with his beer out across the lawn. “You brought your own car. You can get out if you want. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have let you bring the car.”
“You’re a better investigator than I gave you credit for.”
“It’s all about being observant, Heather.” He grinned.
“Oh really?” She sat up and looked down at him. “What did you observe about me when you walked in the bar, hmm?”
Jethro grinned and took a sip of his beer. “All right, you asked.” He looked up into her green eyes, wondering when he could get away with kissing her. “I noticed your hair. I like red heads. But you aren’t like a lot of carrot tops. It’s darker, there’s brown and blonde and the light kept catching your auburn highlights. It’s all natural but you dye it anyway to make sure that helpless men like me keep looking.” She laughed lightly and he grinned. “Your tan is natural, so you spend time at any beach you can find. But you moisturize and take care of your skin so you look twenty four when you’re really closer to twenty eight.” She swatted him. He continued, still grinning. “You have fine taste in jewelry and own few pieces of great value. You prefer silver to gold and items that highlight your bone structure. You are either engaged or trying to stave off men who would be turned away at the sight of a ring on your finger. The danger is fun for you, but under that, you believe in love because you are wearing that ring.”
She rolled her eyes and took a swig of her beer. “What’s your degree in, profiling?”
“I’m an investigator. And it’s criminal justice.”
“Ahhhh. I see.” She rolled her eyes but tipped the beer bottle at him slightly. “You weren’t staved off by the ring on my finger. That tells me a lot about you.”
“Maybe I just like the company of beautiful, smart women who know my drink just by looking at me. You don’t know my intentions.” He shifted a bit, trying to not show how uncomfortable her comment made him. He was the kind of guy to not pursue when he saw a ring like that, but there was something about Heather Shepard that wouldn’t let him back away.
“Charmer.” She laughed lightly. “And I’m not telling you if I’m engaged or not until I decide how much I like you.”
“You like me,” he countered playfully.
“How do you know?”
“You’re sitting on my porch at midnight, staring up at the stars” She huffed a bit and shifted closer to him. Jethro smiled and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at her. “What do you do?”
She tucked a leg up and leaned against her knee, staring at him. “I have a BFA in Graphic Design from RSID and an MFA in Photography from the Museum School in Boston. Right now I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with it.”
Jethro grunted. “Impressive. And fitting.”
She smiled. “I’d love to photograph you.” Her long fingers reached out and stroked along his face. “All these classic lines and features that seem chiseled in stone. But when you smile, everything changes. You have a smile that would tempt even the most noble women from their perches.”
“I doubt that.” He looked back up at the stars, trying to erase Pam from his memory. That was easy. It was Shannon who haunted him. “What’s your favorite piece of art?”
“It’s boring, but I love the Mona Lisa. There’s something about a mysterious smile that fascinates me.”
“I think it suits you.” He glanced at her again. Not since Shannon had he been able to talk so easily, so freely. They’d been able to talk about everything without effort. Now, sitting next to Heather, he felt that same connection. It wasn’t anything he’d felt with Pam.
“Thank you.” She reached out and stroked a long, delicate finger down the bridge of his nose. “I should go.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll stay all night. I want to see your basement with your woodwork and I want to see your bedroom.” She paused and the tone in her voice dropped. “You were right. I am engaged and a man like you doesn’t wear a wedding ring for no reason. I should go.”
“Are you in love with him?” He asked, feeling his own recent separation from Pam like a slap in the face. People always asked the wrong question. It wasn’t if she loved him, but if she was in love with this faceless man. Heather wanted to be out at a bar picking up men than she wanted to be with her own fiancé. That spoke volumes.
“I love him,” she answered the question. “And he’s a good man and he’s good for me.”
“So why are you here?” He asked again, sitting up a bit. He took her hand in his and pulled her close. “I’m out and about because my wife left me because I only loved her. I was never in love with her.”
“Why not?”
“You first.”
“Charles is innocent and I can’t break his heart. But I’m not sure if I actually want to marry him. He’s a good man. My family loves him. But I just …it isn’t storybook love and maybe that’s my problem. My sister says there’s no such thing as storybook love and I’m too romantic. I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked down at their linked fingers. “Why weren’t you in love with your wife?”
He blinked back the sudden rush of tears that still hit him whenever he thought of Kelly and Shannon. “I was, once. With my first wife. We lived in the same small town, met on the train out of town right after I’d joined the Corps. She and my daughter were killed just a couple of years ago.”
Her intake of breath stabbed at him. “Oh no.”
“They were killed a couple of years ago. I married Pam because I thought I needed to move on.” His voice cracked and he looked away. Heather stroked her hand along the side of his face and turned her to look at him.
“You’re a man with stories, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Hilarious ones and heartbreaking ones.” Her lips closed over his and he threaded his hands through her hair, letting himself get lost in their kiss.
She tasted more of beer than bourbon, smelled of honey and hops. Her lips were sweet against his, smooth, touched with a bit of gloss that left traces along his mouth. Her tongue begged entrance at the same time as his and when they broke apart, they were stretched out together on the porch, legs entwined, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Heather pulled back after a long moment and leaned back down on the porch, looking up at the stars. Jethro followed her example and stared up at the blanket of stars, not sure where to go from here, but not feeling in the least uncomfortable.
#3 - Jenny and Jethro: First Kiss and a Job To Do
She won’t stop talking. God. He wouldn’t care except that when she talks he can’t help but stare at her lips and how bright red they are against her pale skin. She has freckles buried under the vanilla ice cream tone of her face and the angrier she gets the more they stand out and he wants to kiss each and every one of them until she’s writhing underneath him.
It’s been this way since they were assigned together - she is such a damned know it all and he doesn’t care if she is actually right a lot of the time, he wants to shut her up and he has a very strong idea that she wants him to shut her up. He’s not great with women, but he can read signs and she’s telling him something.
He’s just worried that if he does reach over, wrap his hand around her neck and pull her onto his lap all the while ripping that designer blouse from her body, that she’ll castrate him with those killer four inch heels. But she won’t stop talking. And half of it is in French which is so sexy as it rolls off her lips and around her tongue and he finally walks up to her, spins the chair she’s sitting in, grabs her hips, pulls her up against him, and forces his mouth down onto hers.
Instantly she goes from English to French to an incoherent moan that is accompanied by her wrapping her arms around his neck in a vice grip reserved only for pythons. But she holds on and somehow he keeps breathing even while their tongues battle for dominance and they trip each other, moving back toward the rickety bed they have, until now, taken turns using. Only when the springs creak under them does the kiss break and he is between her open legs and her hands are on his waist, pulling at his shirt.
“Don’t we have a job to do?” She teases.
Oh, he has one. And he lowers his lips to hers again.
#4 - Sideways Kiss
She hadn’t meant to. Yes, he’d pissed her off. Whatever crap he’d been mumbling about women drivers and women shooters and women in general. His boots were too heavy to stab him through the foot with her heel, but she also hadn’t expected to hit him quite so hard. She didn’t know what was worse, that she’d punched the senior agent on her team, the blood flowing from the cut on his cheek, or that he was passed out an hour before they had to be at a meet.
“Fuck!” She groaned and touched his face. “Jethro?”
He was out cold. Kicking off her heels, Jenny ran across the room for paper towels - anything to stop the bleeding. It was a head wound, it looked worse than it actually was. She knew the reality. But Jethro was still out cold and she’d done it to him.
Pressing the towels to his face, she contemplated calling Ducky. But she didn’t know if she could bear the humiliation that would come from letting people know exactly what she’d done. Anyway, she was half dressed. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know they were sleeping together, but the evidence didn’t need to be on display either.
“Dammit, Jethro. Wake up!” She tilted his head a bit, trying to see what was going on. Not like she had any training. He was still out like a light.
Groaning, she got to her feet again and made for the door. Something tugged on the edge of her robe, pulling it open, and she spun in time to see his hand reach up and grab her wrist. With a thud, she landed on top of him, her breasts spilling out of her bra, one of his hands tangled in her hair.
“Next time you’re pissed,” he groaned, “just walk out, okay, Jen?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Scared me for a minute, Jethro.”
“I expect you to baby me later.”
She smirked and leaned in, kissing his neck. “Yes, darling.” He laughed and rolled them, pulling her robe aside. “Jethro! We have a meet!”
“We have time,” his lips latched onto her neck. “And I need to get my bearings after all.”
Jenny laughed and surrendered.
#5 - In the Lab
It was late when he wandered in. Christmas Eve was always the hardest one for him; the night he missed Shannon the most - she used to sing softly while putting presents under the tree and they always made love next to the fire. The last time she’d woken a week later sick to her stomach and tender to the touch. But whatever hope they’d had for a second child had disappeared three months later.
Abby sat alone at her computer, the door to her office open, inviting. Her skirt rode high on her thighs and despite his fatherly feelings for the girl, there was an attraction he’d be a fool to deny. She was beautiful and playful and brought out a side of him that he wasn’t always happy to acknowledge. So he let his eyes travel the expanse of thigh to a tempting flash a garter and he shook his head. Loneliness fueled lust and he was well aware of his weaknesses. But she was beautiful and looked as lonely as he felt.
“Hey, Abby.”
She turned and perked up, a light coming into her eyes that made him feel ashamed for the ogling of her legs he’d been indulging in. “Gibbs! What are you doing here? It’s Christmas Eve!”
“Just finishing up some paperwork. Saw you were still signed onto the clock. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged and got up, smoothing her skirt down her legs. He let out a sigh of relief that he knew she caught but they both let it go. “I’m just waiting on Major Mass Spec to finish something and then I’m going to midnight mass.”
“In that?” He choked a bit, looking again at her school girl skirt and tight shirt.
“No.” She was blushing and he sighed a bit. “I’ll change before I go.” Only then did he realize how close they were standing to each other. Abby grinned and pointed upward and he discovered they were in fact standing under her mistletoe. “A kiss, Gibbs?”
He obliged, leaning forward. Instead of her cheek he caught her lips and the kiss was slow, sweet; more dangerous than innocent but leading nowhere. When he pulled back, she only smiled at him.
“In another life, Jethro,” she teased.
He only chuckled. “Don’t stay too late. Merry Christmas, Abby.”
She waved. “Merry Christmas, Gibbs.”
#6: Jenny and Clarke - Ooops
It was his way. He slammed through her door at all hours because it’s what he does. Locks never mattered with them (with anyone really) and so he ignored Cynthia’s futile attempt to make him stop.
He wished he hadn’t ignored her.
It wasn’t that they were naked. Quite the contrary. And it wasn’t like he hasn’t seen her kiss other men. Hell, part of their cover was in fact her flirtation with their marks. But seeing her tongue diving into the mouth of a guy whom she could, biologically, have mothered is a bit much for him. He’d heard the rumors, he knew it was going on, but he didn’t need the evidence right in front of him.
He especially didn’t need to see the Toy’s hand on Jenny’s breast or how her skirt was hiked high enough to show the tops of her lacy thigh highs. Once he’d pulled stockings like that down with his teeth before diving under her skirt to make her scream.
Not that he’d done it in a while. Since Paris. Since before she’d left him to go off on her revenge filled quest to become director of NCIS and pursue her own agenda that put herself and the agency at risk. If she was trying to make him jealous, it really wasn’t working. But he did miss those thigh high stockings of hers.
Clarke turned a darker shade of red than Jenny’s hair and fumbled a good bye as he slipped out the door. Gibbs just stood there, waiting for her to smooth out her skirt. Not like he had anywhere else to go and this was slightly more important than a quickie in her office. Jenny’s eyes dared him to say anything. He just shrugged. Wasn’t worth the time and getting Jenny angry while she was also turned on didn’t bode well for his making out of the office alive.
Although, the smirk on her face as she crossed her leg, showing off that thigh high stocking, just about drove him nuts.
#7 - Jenny: Not quite a kiss.
The NCIS gym was deserted this time of night. She was tired and every muscle ached but she needed some kind of outlet. Her still healing wrist was proving to be a disaster and she had almost no control over the fingers in her hand. Ducky had warned her ALS might progress on a fast track due to her levels of stress and that she waited so long to start treatment (or to even seek a diagnosis) but this she can blame on him. After all, she’d been drinking when she fell and she’d been drinking because she found out he’d been screwing her younger sister. Her damned younger sister. It wasn’t like she’d caught him in a tryst with Abby down in the lab or walked in on him and Hollis in the basement (okay, so she’d done that once and snuck away before they heard her.) No, this was Heather. Perfect, pretty, married Heather. Jesus. And he’d had the unmitigated gall to lead her by the nose to that picture of the slut in a pair of shorts that rivaled daisy dukes.
Okay, so given the look on his face, she could call it a complete accident. It wasn’t like the photograph had been right there and the junk drawer was full of a lot of crap. But it had been there. The evidence of the affair even more plain than the child with Jethro’s eyes.
Dammit!
She leveled a kick into the heavy bag, swinging her weight into the mass. It had been a while since she’d taken her aggressions out on the boxing equipment and it felt good to slam her body around and feel the pulse of her blood through her veins for a reason other than anger.
She couldn’t hit with her bandaged hand but as her good fist connected to the bag, she let out a scream of release. That one was for Clarke and his puppy dog eyes and the way he loved her even when she didn’t want him to. A second smash was for Le Tetard and the mess she’d created by going after Rene Benoit. A punch for Leon Vance and his ambitious, corrupted ways. Three sound punches right where her sister’s nose would be, breaking that perfectly beautiful face that her one high school boyfriend had once described as “pure sex.” A round kick to the middle of the bag was for Jethro’s balls. See him make love to her sister after that. If she couldn’t kiss him, she’d punch him. Over and over until he was a bleeding pulp of memory and tears on the floor, a reminder of what she was capable of.
So what if she’d done the leaving. So what if she’d given him no reason to follow her. So what if he’d only done what she’d asked even while staring at her with those damned eyes that still made her tingle. So what if he was right and they’d only have ended up divorced and hating each other. So what. It didn’t give him any right to break her heart while everything else in her life was falling to pieces. If he really gave a damn, he’d wait it out, sitting there even when she pushed him away. He understood how she worked. How dare he call her bluff?
Fucker.
Another round kick and she lost her balance, going down to the mat on her good arm. But she caught herself with the precision of her training and rolled back to her feet, the pressure of her failing muscles fading for just a moment. For just a moment, she was strong again, capable of breaking even a heavy bag. For just a moment, even alone in the NCIS gym, she was kissable.
#8 - Gibbs and Heather: Presents to Unwrap
After an epic battle involving the need to play race cars up and down the stairs, three stories about planes, and a bath that left Jethro cleaning up while Heather finally laid down the law, James had finally given in and gone to bed.
She came down the stairs slowly and he leaned against the front door, watching her seduction. There was nothing slow or stiff in her movements, only a promise that she finally had her all to himself. Just them. Forever. Part of him wanted to propose right then and there, but prudence demanded patience. It wasn’t about waiting for the divorce to be final or Jenny to stop pointing nuclear weapons at their location. It was about not rushing romance. Soon enough she’d be Heather Gibbs. He could wait just a few more breaths.
She hmmmed and pressed up against him - still slightly damp from the bath adventure. “The joys of parenting.”
“Yes,” he chuckled, remembering the smirk from Santa at the mall. “I love it.” And he did. He loved watching Heather with the boys, he loved how James responded to him, and he missed Daniel when he wasn’t around.
“I know you do.” She leaned against him and sighed contentedly. “Why are you up against the door and not on the floor under the Christmas tree? There’s a present I want to unwrap.”
He laughed and ran his hands up her hips and ribs, gently touching her. She pressed up against him with a groan. “Really, what present is that?” When her hand brushed over his zipper, he groaned. “I see.”
“So what are we waiting for?”
He pointed up and her eyes followed to the fresh mistletoe he’d hung while she was putting James down. “I want a kiss.”
“Oh, is that all?” She laughed and reached up, her lips grazing his. They’d kissed thousands of times over the last fifteen years but every time he still got lost in her smell and her taste and the give and take of their mouths. He still responded, blood rushing south, wanting every bit of her. And now he had her. “Merry Christmas, Leroy,” she smirked, walking back toward the Christmas tree. He groaned and followed and prayed James really was down for the count. He had his own present to unwrap.
#9: (Alt!Universe) Jenny, Jethro, and Heather and the Kiss that wasn’t a Kiss
For a moment, the world stopped. The blood rushed into her brain, pounding in her ears, and she was frozen to her spot while she watched the man she was married to lower his lips - lips that belonged to her - to her sister’s face. It wasn’t some sweet peck on the cheek. No, no, no, it was the kiss of two lovers who knew each other far too well. There were tongues dancing and hands wandering and if she didn’t move in she was going to see more of her sister’s underwear than she wanted to.
“What the hell is going on?” Was that her voice? She sounded so far away, even from herself. Jethro turned and she actually watched him try to form the “it isn’t what it looks like” defense but at least he had the decency to stop himself before the lie came out. It was more than what it looked like. How long had this been going on? Heather was too busy smoothing her skirt down and trying to look innocent.
The little bitch couldn’t look innocent if she tried.
She felt her feet moving, but wasn’t in control of where she went. Her hand went out, grabbed Heather’s arm, digging in so tight she knew she was drawing blood. Her free hand formed a fist and shot out, clocking him right on the jaw so hard she knew she’d broken a finger or three. She didn’t care. The pain was worth it as she watched him crumple to the floor, unconscious. With all the precision of the trained agent she was, Jenny dropped to her knees, policed his wedding ring, and stormed out of the house without another word.