My first one shot. I'm not very good at writing those, but I am giving it a try.

I do not own NCIS and blah blah blah.

Read and review! :)

You can't help thinking about her. More often than you let others believe you do. She is ever present in your daydreams. You study her face wanting to remember every single line, every single freckle, and all the different shades of green and brown darkening and lightening her eyes depending on her mood.

You see her smile fondly talking on the phone and you can't help but feel that familiar pain in your chest, wondering why that kind of smile doesn't grace her features more often when she's talking to you. You know your relationship is unusual; you bicker, you argue, you push each others' buttons. But you care about each other; at least you know you do. She is too good to let her guard down. You wish she would let you in, but again, you don't make it easy for her. It comes easier for you to just keep annoying her with sexist remarks and throwing paperclips at her while she's trying to work. She rolls her eyes at you, asking why you can't be a grown up. Sometimes you hear sadness in her voice when she tells you that. You wonder why.

You know she's one of the strongest women you have ever met, still you feel like you need to protect her. Sometimes you see her right through her, when she's tired; too tired to keep up with the "nothing hurts me" façade. You see she's hurting but you don't know how to make it stop. You wish it was okay for you to just go over to the other side of the bullpen and hug her, but you stay behind your desk. You are a coward. You know your partnership is odd. You trust her with your life and she has the same trust in you. There are not spoken words about that. She's not that kind of woman and you're not that kind of man.

Sometimes you wish you could be braver and tell her square that you really don't mean any little insult that you so often throw her way. You know that she doesn't mean hers either. But the preemptive strike philosophy is something you both use as a defense weapon. You realize you are more similar than you ever thought you could be. You wish you could have met her when her innocence was still intact and she had never been hurt, and wonder if she ever thinks that maybe under that so well built up armor you have surrounded yourself with over the years, there could be a guy she could fall for. You shake your head. Of course she doesn't.

You see her tilting her head, looking at you with those hazel eyes that make you believe that all those people talking about the feeling of butterflies flapping their wings insistently in their stomach were not complete nut cases. You try to smile softly her way, to let her in, but you only manage to grin flirtatiously which makes her roll her eyes at you and sigh in annoyance. You can almost read her thoughts as she shakes her head. He is never going to change…

You've been working together for over two years and wonder what her honest opinion about you is. Sometimes you feel her staring. There is something so genuinely honest about the way she looks at you. You almost sense she would like to tell you something. She never does. And you never ask about it. Every time you're standing close to her while in the elevator, or on the field, or in the car, you feel the heat radiating from her and you wish you could just surrender to it, embrace it. She seems aware of the situation, but just like you, she decides to ignore it. Maybe she blames it on biology. You are both only human and attraction can't really be fought.

One day, after a particularly tough week she looks a little bit off. You can see something is really bothering her, but as always you can't bring yourself to genuinely ask her what's wrong. You know she doesn't expect you to. You see your boss looking at her from across the bullpen. You can see he, too is worried. When she stands to go and get coffee from the break room, you gather your courage and follow her. You find her absent-mindedly pouring some fake sugar in the paper cup filled with scalding hot coffee. She notices you standing a few feet away and the line that forms between her eyebrows tells you she is wondering whether you're gonna say anything to her. You take a deep breath and walk towards her. You are close now; so close that you have to bend your head down slightly to look at her. You take the paper cup from her hand and put it on the counter behind her. She swallows. You suddenly become self-conscious of your heart pounding in your chest wondering if she can hear it. It takes all of your strength to break the vicious circle you two imprisoned yourself in from the very beginning, and hug her tightly against your chest. You feel her tense for a second and then relaxing, accepting the silent comfort. She hugs you back, standing on her tiptoes and nudging her head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You reluctantly let go after what was probably only one minute, but her hands stay put around your neck. She looks right into your eyes and you gulp. Her gaze shifts briefly to your lips and you can't refuse the invitation. Slowly lowering your head, you capture her lips in a longing, heart felt kiss. Your heart beats loud and fast and this time you have no doubt she feels it, because you can feel hers. She lets you deepen the kiss and your knees go weak. Her smell is intoxicating and you can't believe it took you so long to kiss her, and curse yourself for having wasted so much time.

Almost out of breath, you cup her face and see her eyes shine. You rest your forehead against hers and close your eyes. She does the same and strokes your jaw line with her thumb. You lower your lips to her again for a short, sweet kiss and you smile. She smiles too. Neither of you asks questions. The answers are already written in your eyes and this time neither of you is going to try and mask them.

It's been sixteen months since that day in the break room and you are now fidgeting and playing with the hem of your tuxedo, impatiently waiting for her to walk down the aisle. You keep thinking that she must have changed her mind, but when a few minutes later the doors of the small church open and your eyes meet hers, you feel stupid for even thinking something like that. She smiles and you barely hear the whole ceremony because you're too focused on how her hair catches the rays of sunshine shining through the colored-glass covered windows, and how her smiles warms up your heart. You feel like the luckiest man in the world when she finally looks at you and says the long-coveted words you've been waiting to hear.

I do.

R&R!