Work Text:
1.0
The first time she dreamt of him came out of nowhere. After several months of silent inner struggles, Jack decided that this pining needed to stop. She has really tried to move on, to focus on new hobbies and new friends, and busy work left her with no mental space for any emotional turmoil. Thus, when she dreamt of Gibbs for the first time, it took her some time to realize that the dream really happened, that she didn’t just had the illusion of a dream, though she was still quietly disappointed it wasn’t real life.
In her nearly awake state, she could feel his warmth lingering on her fingertips, his laughs, so relaxed and so reachable. She rolled over, burying her face into the pillow and trying to go back to the sunny meadow by the lake.
He was sitting under the tree, back leaning against the willow trunk and legs stretched out to support her head. She leaned against his chest, body covering his thighs, inhaling his scent. She felt the warmth radiating like sun.
“What ya thinking?” He stroked her arms, pushing away her hair on her shoulder blades.
“Hmmm, good things.”
She felt the combination of lakeside breeze and the sun.
“Care to share?”
When Jack finally, reluctantly, got up and started her day, she found not thinking about this dream, not thinking about Gibbs a little bit harder.
2.0
She had decisively concluded her first Gibbs dream an accident, maybe some projection of her need to be approved, or something, literally anything other than her unresolved feelings. When she dreamt of him for a second time, she was more startled than amused.
She forgot how the plot started, but she could remember that they were talking, under the cool summer evening sky.
“So, feeling ready to move?” She tried her best squeezing out a smile, looking at the man in front her.
Gibbs scratched his head, “I think it’s time. It’ll be good for me, for both of us.” He dodged her eyes, really ruminating the exact words.
“I have no doubt you will both be very happy. I’m sure she’s over the moon to hear you want to move with her.” When she finally remembered the details of this dream, Jack amazed at how convincingly she was, how hard she tried, even in her dream.
He tilted his head and laughed, “well, I guess.”
Jack stilled for a second, searching for a way to end this conversation. But Gibbs leaned closer and she saw the blue eyes staring at hers, sparkling. “You know,” he murmured, “there’s someone else I’d want to be happy with.”
She felt his hand on her cheek, pulling her closer and his lips covering hers in a second, soft and gentle. When they pulled apart, she touched his face and felt the lump in her throat, “oh, Gibbs….”
Later she’d wonder if her interest in these dreams lies precisely in the lack of them in reality. At the risk of over psychoanalyzing herself, something she had determined not to do early on in her career, she had sighed and given up and carefully thought about what was embedded in their conversation. It will just be for self-awareness, she told herself.
3.0
Then the dreams stopped. At first, she was expecting it again and wondered how she’d react, but days and weeks had past, and those dreams were like stones thrown into the water, starting some waves but quickly forgotten.
The third time she woke up from a Gibbs-related dream she felt the heat between her legs. Her skin was starved of his phantom touch, on her back, on her breast, on her inner thigh. If she had to carefully recall the feeling of him thrusting in and out of her—even in her dream—, she’d moan out loud.
Her inner psychologist refused to examine the situation, knowing she would never follow any professional advice. The agent part of her just carried on working, stuffing her schedule with more and more paperwork. When she felt the tension in her lower back, Jack went up to the roof for some fresh air.
“Taking a break?”
She turned around, facing no other than the silver hair in her dreams. “Back pain,” she chuckled, “didn’t know you come here as well.”
“Escaping some occupational hazard of my own.” He walked to the edge, standing next to her.
The twilight sun blushed the clouds and as he came closer, Jack felt the same heat from his nearness, on her cheeks, and between her thighs. “Well, I’d better get back, paperwork won’t write themselves.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and headed towards then stairs.
“Uh, Jack?”
She paused by the door, “Yes, Gibbs?”
“Steak at my place, tomorrow?” He looked serious as usual.
“Sure,” she winked, “I’ll bring beer.”
He stood there alone and wondered why she left in such a hurry.
4.0
She didn’t expect how cozy they were getting when the evening started—what began as steak and beer soon evolved into some tipsy flirt. When she was sure she could no longer hide her blush in the ambience, she retreated into the kitchen to get a water. Her glass barely hit the surface when she felt his hands on the side of her hips, pulling her towards him. She turned around but was only pushed against the counter with his weight pressing against her flush.
He kissed her rough, taking in every last scent of bourbon left on her lips. Her arms now hooked behind his neck and she parted her legs unknowingly when he lifted her on the kitchen counter.
“Been thinking about this for a long time, Sloane.” His right hand secured on her lower back and his left lifted up her chin, thumb brushing over her lips.
She giggled, eyes shining, “well your movements are indeed, very practiced…..what else have you been thinking about?” She traced the outline of his ears, then down to his neck.
“Tell me, Jack,” he swallowed, “that you’ve never imagined this, not even once?”
She unconsciously dodged his eyes, which instantly caught Gibbs’ attention, “well, ‘imagine’ might be a strong word here…”
“Simple English?”
She slapped his chest in slight embarrassment, but he caught her arm and brought a kiss to her. “Entertain me, please.” His smirk got wider.
“Okay, okay. I may or may not have seen something, when I was sleeping….”
“You dreamt about me.” He looked at the blush rising up on her cheeks, “more than once.”
“Gibbs, if it makes you feel uncomfortable….”
He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear. “Yeah, I really don’t wanna talk about this.” He saw her turned a little stiff and chuckled, “I’d rather you show me, Jack.”
“Oh,” she looked up at him, pinching his collar, “in that case, I should probably dream more often.”
He laughed before lifting her up, “you will have so much more to dream about tonight.”
(the end.)