Today was not a good day for Jethro Gibbs.

Hell, the past week hadn’t been good for him.

Not only had he not caught the terrorist who held Kate, Gerald, and Ducky hostage, but everything was starting to get on his nerves. Now and then, when things were quiet, his heart would pound and pound in his ears, and he could never really get it to just stop. It was like anxiety, or something close to it, though he wasn’t anxious about anything.

It was more so aggravation, frustration, and anger rolled into one neat little ball (bundled up, pushed down, and kept deep, deep inside him). It only became a problem when he started to take it out on people, and boy, did he take it out on people. Yelling at Tony, hitting Tony more often, glaring at Tony more often, snapping at Kate for asking (what he thought) were stupid questions— it was unsurprising for Ducky —but to everyone else…

It was becoming a problem…

At work and home.

“Jethro—”

You sigh deeply as he promptly ignores you, only chisling away at that damned boat he was making in the basement. You stay at the foot of the stairs, not wanting to go any further into his ‘den,’ and certainly not breathe in all those wood chips and whatnot.

“I’ve told you time and time again to leave that attitude at work. You know I can’t—” The sound of him chipping away at the wood cuts you off, your face twisting up as he focuses on the boat instead of you. He wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t love you, but that didn’t change the fact that he was treating you unfairly.