Ashleigh Anpilova


Gibbs doesn't particularly like Valentine's Day. But he does have someone he loves.

An established relationship story.

Written: February 2012. Word count: 640.



We are what we repeatedly do - Aristotle


Gibbs had never particularly liked Valentine's Day, not even when he and Shannon were so happy, so in love, so sure they'd be together for the rest of their lives.


It had always seemed such a commercial event and an over-priced one. Why did people insist on spending more money on a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates or perfume or a piece of jewelry or even a soft toy than they would at any other time of the year? Why did they book weeks (or even months) in advance to go to a fancy restaurant along with dozens of other couples?


Why do something that was meant to show someone you loved them on only one day of the year and seem to forget about it for the rest of the year? Did roses, perfume, a gold necklace, a pink-wrapped box of chocolates say 'I love you'?


Sure it made the other person happy for a short time, but roses die, perfume gets used up, chocolates get eaten and a gold necklace can break or go out of fashion or never really be liked in the first place.


No, to him it was about doing something that lasted, like fixing blocked drains or clearing out gutters or making sure you had tea in the house when you didn't drink it or looking after the other person when they were ill or the hundreds of other day-to-day things you did for someone you loved.


Love meant putting the other person's wishes before your own. If doing something, even if you didn't particularly want to do it, made them happy then you did it. In fact, doing something you didn't particularly want to do was what love was about. It was about compromise and giving - and if you had the right person in your life, you wanted to give, and doing something you didn't really want to do wasn't a chore.


This was why he was driving home after a long drawn out final day at a conference Vance had sent him to. He could have stayed on for another night, but he had a good reason to be on his way home. He had someone he loved, someone who loved him, waiting for him at home. Someone he'd spent at least part of every Valentine's Day with for more years than he wanted to count, even when it was simply friendship they shared. And he wasn't going to let this year be any different.


The chances were that even by breaking the speed limit as he was doing, he was barely going to make it back before midnight. But it didn't matter, if he had nothing more than five minutes, they were going to be good five minutes.


He didn't really want to be driving along at speed on wet roads in pitch darkness and he knew his lover wouldn't want him to risk his life, just to get home. But getting home, home to the person he loved, home to the person who loved him, was more important than the fact that he didn't particularly want to be driving. He wanted to get home.


The clock on the dashboard showed 23:50 as he pulled into the driveway. He left his bags in the car, slammed the door and jogged to the front door, keys already in his hand.


"Hey, Duck," he called, as he closed and locked the front door. "I'm home." He met his lover in the doorway of the living room. "Happy Valentine's Day, Duck," he said, pulling Ducky into his arms and kissing the top of his head.


"Happy Valentine's Day, my dear Jethro," Ducky replied, pulling out of the embrace a little to smile tenderly up at Jethro.


As Jethro lowered his head and kissed Ducky he knew he was truly home.



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