Cruel

                                    

                                          
The day had been long and grueling. The NCIS team had been working tirelessly on a high-profile case involving the murder of a Navy officer connected to a larger arms trafficking ring. It wasn't just any case; this one was personal for Gibbs. The officer had been a close friend of his, someone he had served with years ago. The stakes were high, and the tension in the bullpen had been palpable all week.
Noelle could feel the weight of it too. Gibbs had been more intense than usual, his sharp focus and determination pushing everyone harder than ever. But even in the midst of the chaos, the subtle flirtation between them hadn't stopped. If anything, it had intensified.
That morning, Gibbs had brushed past her on his way to the coffee pot, his hand grazing her lower back, lingering just a second too long. The touch had sent a shiver down her spine, and when she turned to look at him, he'd been wearing that infuriatingly smug smirk, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
"Need something, Noelle?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her cool. "Nope. Just wondering how many cups of coffee you've had today. Should I be concerned for your heart?"
Gibbs chuckled, leaning in just slightly as he grabbed his mug. "You know me better than that."
"I think I do," she muttered under her breath, her lips curving into a small smile as he walked away, his eyes lingering on her for just a second longer than necessary.
That exchange had been playing on repeat in her head all day. Even though the case was weighing heavily on everyone, there was still this undeniable tension between them. Noelle couldn't help but feel like they were on the edge of something, like one of them was going to make a move soon.
---
The case, however, demanded all their attention. By late afternoon, they had tracked down a suspect — a low-level informant who had been seen meeting with the victim the night of the murder. He had been dodging them for days, but McGee and Bishop had finally located him hiding out in a dingy apartment on the outskirts of town.
"Got him," McGee announced, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he pulled up the suspect's information. "Tony Lopez, 35, multiple priors, all related to arms trafficking. Looks like he's got ties to some pretty dangerous people."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he stood by McGee's desk, his jaw clenched. "Bring him in. Now."
It didn't take long for the team to round up Lopez. Noelle had been part of the team that went to grab him, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were getting closer to something big. Lopez wasn't just a small-time player — he knew more than he was letting on, and it was only a matter of time before they cracked him.
Back at the office, Noelle watched as Gibbs prepared for the interrogation. His entire demeanor shifted when he was about to go into the room — he was focused, intense, and almost predatory in the way he approached a suspect. It was one of the things that had always fascinated her about him. He could be quiet and unassuming one minute, then terrifyingly commanding the next.
"Ready?" she asked as she handed him the case file.
Gibbs glanced at her, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Always."
She followed him to the observation room, standing behind the one-way glass as he entered the interrogation room where Lopez sat, looking equal parts cocky and nervous.
Gibbs didn't waste any time. He slammed the file down on the table, causing Lopez to jump slightly in his seat. 
"Tony Lopez," Gibbs started, his voice low and menacing. "You're in deep shit."