Ashleigh Anpilova


Gibbs and Jimmy take their relationship to another level.

An established relationship story.

Written: October 2010. Word count: 2,100.



They barely made it through Gibbs's front door, before Gibbs's mouth was on Jimmy's and his hands were tugging Jimmy's shirt from his trousers. But Jimmy wasn't the placid lover Gibbs had once thought he'd be.


It was Jimmy who backed Gibbs up until Gibbs was pressed against the door, effectively closing it; it was Jimmy who demanded entrance to Gibbs's mouth; it was Jimmy who unbuckled and unzipped Gibbs's trousers; it was Jimmy who pushed them and his shorts down Gibbs's legs; it was Jimmy who dropped to his knees in front of Gibbs and -


Gibbs threw his head back again the door and gasped; his hands went to Jimmy's head, tangling his fingers in Jimmy's hair. "Jimmy," he moaned, simply enjoying the pleasure of what Jimmy was doing for a moment or two. No one had ever made love to him in the way Jimmy did, the balance of innocence, naivety and desire coupled together with a knowledge of anatomy, gave Gibbs sensations he'd never before experienced.


But there was another element to the way Jimmy touched him, kissed him, caressed him, held him, an element that'd crept into their relationship more and more since the day they'd found themselves alone together and Gibbs'd seen Jimmy in a new light. And it was that element that made Gibbs act.


He tugged on Jimmy's head. "Get up," he said, his voice rough.


Jimmy paused and moved back, looking up at Gibbs, he seemed puzzled. "Don't you like it? I thought you - Jethro, what have I done?"


Gibbs shook his head and gentle pulled himself out of Jimmy's mouth. "I do like it, Jimmy. But I don't want you on your knees in front of me. Get up." This time he used his strength and pulled Jimmy to his feet. "I never want you on your knees in front of me again, Jimmy. Never. Okay?" He redressed himself, trying to avoid the sensitive tip of his erection from brushing too much against the cotton of his shorts.


Jimmy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded. "Okay, Jethro," he said, his tone uncertain. "If you're sure I haven't -"


Gibbs silenced him with a kiss, tasting himself on Jimmy's lips, in Jimmy's mouth. Then he broke the kiss, pulled Jimmy into a tight embrace, put his lips against Jimmy's ear and whispered the words he'd never said to Jimmy before; the words he never thought he'd say again to anyone.


He heard Jimmy gasp and felt his surprise, his shock and his clear delight. "Jethro?" Jimmy pushed himself back a little and looked straight into Gibbs's eyes. "Do you mean it?"


Gibbs nodded. "Sure do," he said. "I love you, Jimmy," he repeated, suddenly aware of his need to say it when Jimmy could see him.


He'd heard of 'faces lighting up' and 'eye shining with happiness' but he'd put it down to romantic fiction of the trashy kind; now he knew how wrong he'd been. "Oh, Jethro, I . . .  I love you too. I didn't like to . . . I didn't want to . . . I didn't know how you . . . Are you sure?" Jimmy said the last words very softly.


Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, Jimmy. I'm sure."


Jimmy swallowed hard. "In that case, can we -" He stopped speaking abruptly.


Gibbs watched his young lover begin to flush and saw Jimmy glance away from him. "Can we?" he asked gently, when Jimmy didn't continue.


But Jimmy shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's silly." Now he was looking down at the floor.


Gibbs gripped Jimmy's shoulders hard. "Can we? Can we what, Jimmy?"


He still thought Jimmy wasn't going to answer. Just as he was about to ask again, Jimmy began to speak, at speed. "It's just that I don't like lying to him. Not that I'm really lying, I'm not. It's not as if he's specifically asked. But he knows, you see. He knows I'm seeing someone and he knows that someone's important. And after you I care for him most of all and I feel guilty and . . ."


Gibbs watched as Jimmy came to a stuttering halt. "You want to tell Ducky about us?" he asked softly.


Jimmy looked at him and his mouth fell open slightly. For the moment the confident lover had gone and it was the young, sometime gawky man Gibbs had originally never looked once at, let alone twice who stood in front of him. The man he now couldn't envisage his future without. "How . . . But . . ." Then he made a self-exasperated gesture and asked, "Can I?"


Gibbs put his arm around Jimmy's shoulder, paused to lock the front door and led Jimmy to the couch. "No," he said gently but firmly. "I will."


Jimmy looked at him in complete surprise. "You?"


"Yeah, it should come from me. Duck and me go back a long way. He's stood by me more times than I can remember and in more ways than one. He's my closest friend, Jimmy, he's seen me unhappy, it's time I told him I was happy."




"Jethro? This is an unexpected pleasure. Do come in."


"Hey, Duck. Good to see you too." Gibbs went into Ducky's house, shut the door and shrugged off his coat. "Got something to tell you," he said, throwing his coat over the banisters and heading for Ducky's lounge. He went straight to Ducky's drinks cabinet, pulled out a bottle of malt scotch, sloshed a friendly measure into one glass and a doubly-friendly one into the other. He gave the latter to Ducky.


Ducky raised an eyebrow and looked from the almost full glass to Jethro. "Jethro?" he said. "Is something wrong, my dear? You're not ill, are you?" Ducky sounded deeply worried.


Gibbs shook his head swiftly and hastened to reassure Ducky. "Nah, Duck, nothing like that."


"Then why, might I ask, have you poured me such a large drink?"


"You'll need it. And you better sit down." Gibbs took a long swallow of his drink. "Drink some," he said, his tone forceful.


Ducky acted on a long-honed instinct of reacting when Gibbs used that tone and took a swallow. Then he frowned and looked up at Gibbs. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, please tell me what the hell is going on. Why are you acting so . . ." He trailed off.




"That is one term for it. Well?"










"There's something I have to tell you. Need to tell you. Want to tell you."


"Then tell me, my dear."


"It's about . . . Aw, shit, Duck." He really hadn't thought it would be this hard. He took another long swallow. "I'm seeing someone," he finally said. "And it's serious. Really serious. Committed. I know I've said that to you so many times you probably - what did you say?"


Ducky smiled. "I said I'm delighted to hear it. I like Jimmy very much indeed and would have hated to have seen him -"


"You knew?"


Ducky blinked at the sharpness of Gibbs's tone. "Yes, of course I knew. Jethro, my dear, dear Jethro, did you really think that I of all people wouldn't notice? I know you and I work every day with Jimmy. I see you both."


Gibbs took another long swallow of his drink. "You don't mind? It doesn’t bother you?"


"Why should it? And as I said my only concern was that you were . . . That you weren’t a serious as Jimmy was. I didn't want to see him hurt."


"You knew - Scrub that, of course you did. Right. Um. Reckon I'll just sit down." And Gibbs slumped down into an armchair. Ducky smiled, chuckled softly and sat down far more elegantly on the couch.


"Your good health," he said. "Yours and Jimmy."


"Thanks," Gibbs replied automatically, emptying his glass.


For a moment they just sat there in the fire and wall-light lit room just enjoying one another's company in the way that only friends of their years standing could sit. Then Ducky looked at Gibbs and said quietly, "And when will you tell the rest of the team?"


Gibbs stared. "What?"


"You are going to tell them, are you not?" Ducky's tone was matter-of-fact.


Gibbs swallowed hard. "I hadn't . . . We hadn't . . . I mean . . . Why, Duck? It's none of their damned business."


"Is it not?" Ducky spoke placidly.


"No!" Ducky continued to gaze at Gibbs. Gibbs shifted slightly. "Well, maybe . . . But . . . Ah, I don't know, Duck. You know, that's what matters. I mean -"


"The team should be told. Jethro, think, what if," Ducky paused and swallowed hard, before momentarily glancing away from Gibbs. Then he took another swallow of his drink and looked back at Gibbs. "Jethro, your job, what you do each day, what if something . . . Jimmy would have to lie at the worst time of his life. The others wouldn't . . . They wouldn't see him as anything other than my assistant. They would believe they had the monopoly on grieving for you. It wouldn't be fair. You wouldn't be fair. If you are as committed to Jimmy as you say you are, then I believe you should tell the rest of the team. I think you owe it to Jimmy and to the team to tell them the truth, after all, we are family, are we not?"


Gibbs sagged back against the chair back and closed his eyes. "Yeah, Duck," he said opening them again. "You're right. But how? I can't exactly stand up on my desk in the squad room and tell them, can I?"


Ducky chuckled. "Probably not, no. I have a suggestion. Next week is Thanksgiving, how would it be if I invited you all here and you told them then? A friendly, relaxed, non-work situation, it doesn't have to be a big announcement, just let them know."


Gibbs thought about it. "Sounds all right to me. I'll check with Jimmy, but - Yeah, Duck, let's do it that way."




Ducky, Tim, Abby, Ziva and Tony sat around Ducky's dining table, talking, laughing and drinking.


"Where's Gibbs?" Tony suddenly demanded.


"And Palmer?" Tim added.


Tony looked around him as if he hadn't missed Jimmy. "And Palmer," he echoed.


"I'm sure they will be here shortly," Ducky said, sipping his wine. He hoped he spoke the truth; he hoped Jethro hadn't changed his mind. It was unlike his old friend to do so, but maybe this was -


He heard the front door open. "Jethro," he called standing up and turning towards the door of the dining room. "Oh," he added, very softly, so that no one would have heard as he watched Jethro stride into the room holding the hand of a slightly flushed Jimmy.


"Hey, Duck," Jethro said, keeping a tight grip of Jimmy's hand. "Sorry we're late. Would have been here sooner, but Jimmy reckoned we needed to bring something. So here," he handed over a bottle of wine, which Ducky took. "From Jimmy and me." He stressed the words.


Ducky took the bottle. "Thank you, Jethro. Thank you, Jimmy. I assure you there was no need. But it was very kind of both of you. Now let me take your coats and -"


"No worries, Duck. I'm got them." And before Jimmy could say anything or Ducky could move, Jethro had tugged his own coat off and with clear assuredness pulled Jimmy's off as well. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room leaving the team just staring, Jimmy blushing and Ducky hiding a smile.


He had wondered quite how Jethro was going to tell the team; now he knew. As so often happened Jethro resorted to what he knew best: actions, not words.


In what seemed like mere seconds Gibbs was back. He put his arm around Jimmy's shoulders and moved towards the end of the table. "Want me and Jimmy to sit here, Duck?" he asked, nodding at the two empty seats.


Ducky nodded. "Yes, that would be fine, Jethro. Timothy, do pour Jethro and Jimmy a glass of wine, please."


"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, Ducky. Boss? Jimmy?"


"Thanks, Tim. Jethro took both glasses, handing the first to Jimmy. Then he looked around the table. "Well?" he demanded. "I thought this was a party, right, Duck?"


Ducky smiled. "Yes, Jethro." He held up his glass towards Jethro and Jimmy.


"Good." Jethro swallowed some wine, looked pointedly at Jimmy who did the same. Then he looked at the others. "Well?" he demanded.


One by one they held their glasses up towards him and Jimmy and smiled. Their smiles got broader and more genuine as Jimmy flushed and Jethro put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder.


Then Jethro looked at Ducky and mouthed, "Thanks, Duck."



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