Ashleigh Anpilova


On the evening of Ducky's funeral, Gibbs turns up on Fornell's doorstep.

A first time story.

Gibbs/Ducky are also mentioned in this story.

Warning: Major character death.

Written: May 2009. Word count: 1,088.



"Jethro!" Fornell stared at his friend who was standing outside his front door, head slightly bowed, his hands buried in the depths of his black overcoat pockets.


Gibbs looked up and Fornell bit back an exclamation at the pain that showed in the dark gaze. "Hey," Gibbs managed. The single word seemed to cost him greatly, and he let his head drop down again.


"I thought you wanted to be alone," Fornell said quietly, now taking Gibbs's arm and guiding him into his hallway.


"Thought I did. I was wrong. I don't want to be alone, Tobias. Not tonight. Not ever. Oh, God," and with that soft exclamation, Gibbs slumped forward into Fornell's arms.


Swiftly adjusting his stance to take Gibbs's weight and accommodating for the three inches height difference, Fornell held his friend. He felt Gibbs's body shake and then to his surprise felt wetness on his neck.


Fornell had been the first one Gibbs had called when a frantic dash to the hospital had proven futile. Fornell had gotten up, raced through a high speed shower and dressing, and had been by Gibbs's side within half an hour. His friend had seemed numb, distant, disbelieving even that the man he'd loved and been loved by for so many years was now dead. But he hadn't cried.


Nor had he done so earlier in the day at the funeral. All the kids had cried, holding onto one another, looking dreadful; but Gibbs hadn't. He'd just stood by Fornell's side; rigid, pale, withdrawn, upright. But not one tear had he shed. Until now.


"Hush, Jethro," Fornell said, pulling Gibbs nearer to him, offering him a kind of awkward comfort. He wasn't sure what to say, anything would be trite. It always was, but this time it was different. He'd never really understand Gibbs and Ducky's relationship, he wasn’t sure anyone other than them had, could. He just knew it was the most intense he'd ever known.


Suddenly Gibbs lifted his head. "Take me to bed, Tobias," he whispered.


"What?" Fornell blinked.


"You heard. Come on, Tobias, you've always wanted me."


Fornell couldn't deny it. He had. He still did, God forgive him, but he still did. Even now, on the evening of Ducky's funeral, he wanted Jethro Gibbs. Wanted him so badly it was taking him all his effort not to allow his body to react to Gibbs's closeness. But surely this wasn’t right? Surely not tonight. Tonight was . . . Gibbs couldn't mean what he was saying; he couldn't. No, he'd suggest they had a drink or two or three or as many as Gibbs wanted.


He opened his mouth. "Jethro, I -"


"Please." One word. Whispered. But combined with the look in the dark, damp gaze and on Gibbs's face, it was enough. 'Please' was another word, Fornell knew Gibbs used sparingly.


He swallowed. He still wasn't sure it was right. But - "Are you sure?" he asked, already turning towards the stairs.


Gibbs nodded once. "Only been surer of two things in my life." He didn't expand; he didn't need to; Fornell knew what the two things, or rather the two people, were.


"Come on, then," he said.



He didn't know what he had been expecting. He'd never slept with a man before, all he knew about it was from a couple of books he'd bought when he'd first realized he was attracted to the man in his bed, and from the kind of course comments you hear. But instinct told him that even though neither Gibbs nor Ducky had ever spoken about their relationship, it wasn't like what he'd read or heard. At least not between them.


Now as he lay next to Gibbs, his breathing only beginning to return to normal, his heart-rate still faster than was necessarily good for him, tasting and smelling not only Gibbs's scent, but the scent of what they'd done, he almost, for a fraction of a second, wished it had been like the books.


He could have handled hard, fast, rough, detached. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle gentle, slow, tender, involved. He'd been expecting sex; instead he'd experienced lovemaking. Gibbs had kissed him, caressed him, touched him, stroked him, taken him to heights he hadn't believed existed. He'd guided Fornell through making love to him, he'd been patient, he'd made Fornell's fumbles seem unimportant; he'd given him a lesson in how to make love and how to be made love to.


He wasn't sure what the morning would bring. He didn't know if Gibbs intended it to be a one-night fling; if he would get up, shower, dress and walk out of his home. Or if - He stopped the 'or if'. Just as he pushed away the memory of Gibbs's 'I don't want to be alone, Tobias. Not tonight. Not ever'.


As he lay with Gibbs's arm flung across his body in what was a very possessive yet also desperate way, suddenly Fornell wasn't altogether certain whether he would prefer Gibbs to walk away or prefer him to stay.


For years he'd wanted his closest friend, but had never expected to be able to have him. He had never even allowed himself to consciously think about the possibility of having him. He had always known that whoever else Gibbs had left, cheated on, over the years, that he'd never leave Ducky. And he'd always known that once Gibbs had moved into Reston House, he'd never cheat on Ducky. Not with Fornell or with anyone.


And now for this one night his dreams, because he couldn't control those, had come true; he had had Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He had been the focus of his attention; of his loving. He had been made love to by him. And the beauty of it, the intensity of it, the depth of it scared him.


But even as he let those thoughts slip into his mind, he knew what he really wanted: he wanted Gibbs. He wanted him for his. He wanted him to stay. He didn't kid himself it was going to be easy, but Gibbs had come to him, hadn't he? He hadn't gone to some woman, he'd come to him. That had to mean something, didn't it?


With those thoughts in his mind, he finally settled down, adjusted to the fact that he was not only in bed with someone, but being held down by that someone, and let himself slip into sleep. The morning would bring what the morning would bring.





Don't Want To Be Alone

A Trip Down Memory Lane

A Start

At The End Of The Tunnel

A Small Gesture

Making Plans



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