theatrical_muse [#429] Bedtime
What time is bed time?
[Borrowed ncis_ljgibbs]
The floor in the bedroom creaks, muffled thumps in the hallway--sounds that tell Jenny he's awake. A few moments later, she hears, "So this is where you are."
She pauses painting the window trim and looks over her shoulder. Jethro is standing in the doorway in just a t-shirt and shorts, his hair sticking out at crazy angles. He runs a hand through his hair which only makes the cowlicks worse. She smiles at him.
"I thought you said you weren't feeling well," he asks.
"I'm not," and almost as if on cue, she sniffles.
He shuffles across the room to her and she turns the rest of the way around. Raising an eyebrow, he asks, "So. What are you doing, Jen?" He can see what she's doing, but he wants to hear what she thinks she's doing.
She presses her left hand into the small of her back and waves the paintbrush in the general direction of the window. "I want to get this done, Jethro. I wanted you to finish it today, but the yellow took longer than I thought it would."
"I can finish it tomorrow," he says, glancing at the white paint on the paintbrush. He steps in closer and puts his hands on her shoulders, "You should be sleeping. Not painting."
She rubs her forehead with the back of her wrist, "What time is it?" When she brings her hand down, a white smudge remains.
"After four," he says as a slow, crooked smirk forms on his lips.
"What?" she raises her eyebrows. Another sniffle.
"Nothing," he says, still smirking slightly, "Bedtime."
Jen turns back to the window, slipping out from under his hands and picks up where she left off. "As soon as I finish painting the trim. This needs to be dry by Wednesday so you can hang the drapes."
Again, he steps in close, pressed up against her back, and plucks the paintbrush from her. "Do you have this planned down to the minute the paint is done drying?" he teases.
She can feel his breath on her neck. "No, I don't have it planned to that level of detail, Jethro," she teases right back.
"Just the hour, then." He sets the paintbrush in the tray on the floor. "Why does it have to be done this week, Jen? We have next week, too. You're supposed to be taking it easy, especially if you're getting sick. Which I think you are."
With her efforts thwarted, she turns around again and he's close enough now that her round belly presses into him. "I don't know. I feel like we're not getting enough done."
"Tonight, we are done. Tomorrow, you can boss me around all you want," he says.
She sniffles again. And smiles, "Okay. Bedtime."
[Borrowed ncis_ljgibbs]
The floor in the bedroom creaks, muffled thumps in the hallway--sounds that tell Jenny he's awake. A few moments later, she hears, "So this is where you are."
She pauses painting the window trim and looks over her shoulder. Jethro is standing in the doorway in just a t-shirt and shorts, his hair sticking out at crazy angles. He runs a hand through his hair which only makes the cowlicks worse. She smiles at him.
"I thought you said you weren't feeling well," he asks.
"I'm not," and almost as if on cue, she sniffles.
He shuffles across the room to her and she turns the rest of the way around. Raising an eyebrow, he asks, "So. What are you doing, Jen?" He can see what she's doing, but he wants to hear what she thinks she's doing.
She presses her left hand into the small of her back and waves the paintbrush in the general direction of the window. "I want to get this done, Jethro. I wanted you to finish it today, but the yellow took longer than I thought it would."
"I can finish it tomorrow," he says, glancing at the white paint on the paintbrush. He steps in closer and puts his hands on her shoulders, "You should be sleeping. Not painting."
She rubs her forehead with the back of her wrist, "What time is it?" When she brings her hand down, a white smudge remains.
"After four," he says as a slow, crooked smirk forms on his lips.
"What?" she raises her eyebrows. Another sniffle.
"Nothing," he says, still smirking slightly, "Bedtime."
Jen turns back to the window, slipping out from under his hands and picks up where she left off. "As soon as I finish painting the trim. This needs to be dry by Wednesday so you can hang the drapes."
Again, he steps in close, pressed up against her back, and plucks the paintbrush from her. "Do you have this planned down to the minute the paint is done drying?" he teases.
She can feel his breath on her neck. "No, I don't have it planned to that level of detail, Jethro," she teases right back.
"Just the hour, then." He sets the paintbrush in the tray on the floor. "Why does it have to be done this week, Jen? We have next week, too. You're supposed to be taking it easy, especially if you're getting sick. Which I think you are."
With her efforts thwarted, she turns around again and he's close enough now that her round belly presses into him. "I don't know. I feel like we're not getting enough done."
"Tonight, we are done. Tomorrow, you can boss me around all you want," he says.
She sniffles again. And smiles, "Okay. Bedtime."