Ashleigh Anpilova


Gibbs and Tim have been living together for a few months. Tim has an idea, but he doesn't know how to broach the subject with Gibbs.

An established relationship story.

Written: August 2009. Word count: 1,000.




Tim turned off the engine and for a moment rested his head on the steering wheel. It'd been another long day at the office with another new case on top of the five they'd already been working on.


It'd been almost eight o'clock when he'd reached the decision they weren't going to achieve anything else that day, and had sent Dwayne and Emma home. He'd spent another half an hour working on his reports, before turning off his desk-lamp and leaving the Navy Yard.


At least, unlike his junior agents, he had someone to go home to. Someone who would not only understand why he was so late and so exhausted, but also someone who'd have a meal waiting for him.


The thought of his lover at home, working on his boat or proof-reading the latest chapter of Tim's book, made Tim smile. He still had to pinch himself from time to time, to make himself believe he really was Jethro Gibbs's lover, and had shared his home for a few months.


Still too exhausted to drag himself from the car, Tim let his mind go back to the first time Jethro and he had met. He'd heard all about Special Agent Gibbs; anyone who worked for NCIS, be it in DC or any of the other offices, had heard about him, and he'd already been in awe of him. And yet, he'd dared to try to stop Jethro from going to see Captain Veitch. And when Jethro had asked him if he didn't think he could be difficult, Tim had found himself saying 'um, I'm sure you can, sir'. And they'd been toe-to-toe and Tim hadn't, despite feeling intimidated, let himself back down. He wondered if his lover remembered that first meeting; if, in fact, Tim standing up to him had led to Jethro asking for Tim's help after that. And if -


"Hey, you planning on sitting out here all night?"


Tim jumped slightly and silently cursed the fact that Jethro had not only opened the front door of their home, letting light stream out, but had come up to the car and opened the driver's door, all without Tim being aware. He must be more tired that he thought.


He saw Jethro frown. "You okay, Tim?"


Tim smiled. "I'm just a bit tired. It's been a long day."


"Yeah. Remember those. Come on, let's get inside and I'll pour you a drink. Dinner's almost ready." And then before Tim could protest, Jethro had opened the back door, grabbed Tim's briefcase, snagged the keys from Tim's hand, shut the doors and locked the car, and had slung his arm around Tim's shoulders and was leading him to the house.


Once inside, Jethro put Tim's briefcase on the hall table and put his arms around him. Tim went willingly into his lover's embrace. After a moment or two of simply enjoying the feel of Jethro's arms around him and his firm body pressed against him, he moved back just a little and claimed Jethro's mouth with his. That was another wonderful thing about coming home to Jethro; his welcoming kiss was always so perfect. The kiss went on for several minutes, before finally they parted.


"Want to grab a shower before we eat? You've got time."


Tim shook his head. "No, I'll just have a drink. Showering takes too much energy and I need to save mine."


Jethro raised his eyebrows and leered at Tim. "Oh, yeah?"


Tim laughed. "I wish," he said. "No, I told you last night. I've got to get the next two chapters written tonight. I'm already behind."


Jethro looked at him; there was a hint of Tim's old boss in the steady dark-blue gaze. "You know, Tim," he said.


Tim waited. "What?"


Jethro shook his head. "Nothing. Just something . . . Nothing. I'll get you that drink. Beer or whiskey?"


"Beer would be good, thanks, Jethro." Tim smiled at his lover and put his hand on his arm.



"You sure you want to go and write tonight?" Jethro asked as, after dinner and ten minutes or so of conversation, Tim stood up.


"No. But I have to. Really, Jethro," Tim said, putting his hand on Jethro's shoulder. "I do." He smiled, snagged another bottle of beer and left the room.


He settled down in the room Jethro had turned into an office for him, put a blank piece of paper into his typewriter and began to write. He'd been expecting to find it hard going, expecting to struggle somewhat, given how exhausted he was. Thus, it came as something of a surprise to him, when he found himself at the end of the second page and already rolling the third blank piece of paper into the machine.


As he'd reached a natural break in the story, he paused for a moment and quickly read through what he'd typed. Sometimes when it came so easily and so quickly, what he wrote was rubbish, but this was good - even he thought that, and he was his own harshest critic.


He enjoyed writing, he enjoyed it a lot. In fact these days he enjoyed it more than working at NCIS. An idea began to form in his mind, but he pushed it away. It wasn't possible, was it? Would Jethro want him at home all day writing? He'd been somewhat surprised when Jethro had asked him to move in with him; he knew how much his lover valued his own space. However, in reality with the exception of Sundays, and some Saturdays, they were only together for a few hours each day.


No, it wasn't something he could raise with Jethro. And yet . . . And yet, he'd had enough of NCIS. Enough of the long hours, the cases, the fact that no matter how many they solved, there was always another twenty waiting. Maybe they could find a way to make it work.


But now wasn't the time to raise the subject, not yet. Now he had two chapters to finish.





Why Me?


The Final Hurdle

A Sense of Relief

Just A Kid

How To Raise The Subject

Coming Together

Why Not?

Too Old?



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