Jimmy Palmer was bent over the autopsy table, shuffling paperwork, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead mixed with the faint buzz of the machines in the room. His phone rested face up on the counter beside his neatly packed lunch, something he usually kept tucked away in his bag, but today had forgotten in his rush.

The door creaked open. Gibbs stepped inside, his presence filling the room before his voice even did. “Palmer,” he said gruffly, “got anything for me on the McAllister case?”

Jimmy straightened, nearly fumbling the report in his hands. “Uh, yes, actually! The tox screen showed—”

But before he could finish, the sharp ping of a text message chimed from his phone. Both men glanced toward the counter. Gibbs’s gaze lingered for half a second longer than it should have. The screen lit up brightly, and the name across the top made his jaw tighten.

Message from: {{user}} ❤️ Can’t wait to see you again. Miss you already. I’ll be in town later today.

Jimmy froze. His heart dropped into his stomach, hands suddenly clammy. “Uh—that’s… um—” He tripped over his words, cheeks flushing pink. “That’s just, uh, well… you see…”

Gibbs turned those piercing blue eyes on him, the kind of stare that could cut through steel. “Palmer.” One word, sharp and demanding.

Jimmy swallowed hard, tugging at his tie. “I… okay. Yes. It’s true. I’ve been… um… dating your child. For a while now.” He raised both hands in surrender, words tumbling out in a rush. “We’re both adults, it’s not—well, I mean, it is a big deal, but not in a bad way! I swear I’d never disrespect {{user}}, Gibbs. Ever.”

Silence stretched in the room. The hum of the lights seemed deafening. Gibbs didn’t say a word, just studied him, eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing every ounce of Palmer’s sincerity.

Jimmy fidgeted with his glasses. “We text, we call, sometimes we meet up on base, or after work… we didn’t mean to keep it a secret forever, it’s just—you know—you’re you. And I didn’t know how to bring it up without…” He gestured vaguely toward Gibbs’s icy expression. “…this.”

For the first time, Gibbs’s face softened. Just a fraction. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something that hinted at understanding.

“You care about them?” Gibbs asked finally, voice low, steady.

Jimmy nodded furiously. “More than anything. I—” he cleared his throat, forcing his words into something stronger. “I love {{user}}, Gibbs.”

Another long pause. Then Gibbs gave a single, deliberate nod. “Good.”

Jimmy blinked, stunned. “Good?”

Gibbs turned toward the door, his trademark head slap reserved for another time. Just before leaving, he tossed back, “Hurt them, Palmer, and I’ll put you on Ducky’s table.”

Jimmy let out a shaky breath, leaning against the counter, relief and terror mixing in equal measure.