WHEN I HAVE YOU
Gibbs tells Ducky to get something from his briefcase. However, he'd forgotten something else that was inside.
An established relationship story.
Written: October 2007. Word count: 1,677.
"Jethro," Ducky called over the sound of the shower. "Did you remember to ask Mr. Palmer for that article on –"
"Yeah, sorry, Duck. Forgot to give it to you. It's in my briefcase. Help yourself."
"Thank you, my dear." Ducky stood and watched his lover soap himself for a few moments, before smiling and leaving the bathroom.
Jethro called after him. "Of course you could always –"
"Supper will be ready in three quarters of an hour," Ducky said firmly, trying, and failing, to hide a smile.
"Spoilsport." Jethro called to his lover's departing back.
Ten minutes later, rubbing his hair on a towel, he wandered, still naked, into their bedroom. He stopped and blinked; he'd been expecting to find his usual glass of whiskey waiting for him by the bed, but there was nothing there. His briefcase, still open, lay on the bed, its contents surprisingly scattered over the covers. As he looked down at the bed, his frown deepened. "Oh, shit," he swore, suddenly remembering.
Pausing only long enough to throw on clean underwear, a sweatshirt and a loose pair of trousers, he raced down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Ducky didn't even turn around.
Jethro paused in the doorway and looked at the rigid back that greeted him. "It isn't mine, Duck," he said quietly, moving into the room and stopping just behind Ducky, albeit not within touching distance.
"I do not know about what you are talking, Jethro," Ducky responded, his voice flat and icy. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to –" He tried to move past Jethro. But being younger, taller and stronger, Jethro stopped him without exerting any real effort.
He put one hand on each of Ducky's shoulders and held him, at arms' length, firmly in place. "It isn't mine," he repeated determinedly. Ducky was silent; under his hands Jethro could feel the tautness of his lover's shoulders, and his gaze was fixed firmly on the floor.
Just for a moment, Jethro felt annoyed with Ducky, what the hell did he think he was playing at? Then he remembered that Ducky, following his retirement, had far too many hours alone in the house. Too many hours to think, remember, second guess, worry, and the other hundred and one other things that no doubt occupied his mind.
He sighed to himself and said, his tone softer, "Look at me, Duck." When Ducky refused, Jethro resorted to putting one hand under Ducky's chin and tilting his head up. "I repeat, Ducky, it isn't mine."
"Then whose might it be?" Ducky finally asked; his tone was still flat and cold.
Ducky tilted his head to one side and frowned a little. "What pray is a pornographic magazine belonging to Anthony doing in your briefcase?"
Jethro sighed. "When I got to work today I found a note from Jenn on my desk. Apparently someone had formally reported DiNozzo for sexual harassment, and some woman or other was coming to 'see if the claim could be substantiated'. I suddenly remembered that I'd seen DiNozzo put something in his desk drawer late last night, and I reckoned I knew what it was. I was right, it was that blasted magazine. I had no idea whether she'd search his desk, but I though it was safer to get it out of the way, in case she did. So I grabbed it, just as Jenn and the woman appeared, and shoved it into the only place I knew would be safe: my briefcase. And then, I just forgot about it."
Ducky was looking at him, the steel that had taken over the usually soft, loving gaze, had reduced a little, and under Jethro's hand he felt a small amount of the tautness reduce.
Jethro took advantage of it and pulled Ducky a little closer to him; holding him at arms' length was beginning to make his arms ache. "Come on, Duck," he said softly. "I had less than thirty seconds to act. If you remember I somehow got 'delayed' this morning and ended up being a lot later than usual. In fact you should have seen the looks of surprise on McGee and Ziva's faces when I did finally arrive. And," he pulled Ducky even closer to him pleased to feel very little resistance from his lover. He bent his head and put his lips to Ducky's ear. "And I'm sure you can remember just what delayed me, can't you?" He risked letting the tip of his tongue stroke Ducky's ear.
What had happened was that Ducky had joined him for his morning shower; a shower that had ended up taking considerably longer than it usually did. A shower that, had in fact, ended up with them going back to bed, which had eventually led to Jethro having to take a second shower before he finally left for the office.
"Besides," he added, his lips again on Ducky's ear. He felt to his relief, Ducky move, of his own volition, even closer to him, "Why would I want to buy and look at a porn magazine, when I have you? You're enough of a turn on for me. And you can turn me on without even being naked."
"Can I?" Ducky asked; he sounded immensely pleased with himself.
"You know you can." Jethro deliberately pressed his body against Ducky and proved it to him.
Ducky sighed and slipped his arms around Jethro. "I am sorry, my dear," he said, his tone heavy with chagrin. "I'm behaving like a foolish, childish old man."
"Oy, less of the 'old'," Jethro kissed the top of his head.
Ducky chuckled. "I see you don't dispute 'foolish' or 'childish'."
Jethro held him against him for a moment, before gently pushing him away a little so that he could look down at him. "You that unsure of me, Duck?" he asked, keeping his tone gentle. "I made you a promise, and I've never broken my word to you, have I?"
Ducky glanced away and shook his head. "I am sorry," he repeated. "And no, in truth I am not unsure of you, at all. Merely of myself."
"I always knew the day would come when I would have to retire, and that it would be before you also retired. But . . . I never thought I would find it so difficult to fill the hours of each day. Oh, I'm just being foolish and selfish. And I also know that it is not that unusual; many people find the same happens when they first retire. It will pass; I know that. Until then, I shall try not to –"
Jethro silenced him in his favorite way. "You know, Duck," he said, after several pleasant moments had gone by. "We could forget about supper and instead go upstairs. I could show you just how little I need magazines when I have you. I can prove to you just how much you still turn me on."
Ducky smiled up at him. "You don't need to do that, dearest."
"Maybe not, but wouldn't you like me to?" He moved against Ducky, brushing against him lightly. "I could . . ." He lowered his head even more and whispered in Ducky's ear.
Ducky moaned and shivered with evident pleasure.
"Duck," Jethro said, as they sat at the table eating a very late supper.
"I've made a decision, and I've got an idea."
"I'm going to retire at the end of the year. No, hear me out." He took Ducky's hand. "I've had enough. It's not the same without you being there. I find myself still going down to Autopsy at odd times, and then I have to invent a reason for doing so. And I don't think, from the looks Palmer gives me, that they're all that believable. I've done enough, I reckon. Time to pack it in and do what I want to do, rather than what I have to do. And what I want to do is be with you."
"Jethro, I don't want you to make any hasty decisions. I told you, what I feel is not that unusual. I'm sure it will – What did you say?"
"Said it wasn't hasty. Been thinking about it for a while now. Pretty much since you left, if I'm honest. I'll tell Jenn tomorrow, unless you don't want me around, under your feet," he added mischievously.
Ducky smiled a little. "Ah, my dear Jethro," he said, sounding a little rueful and self-deprecating. "I always want you around; that I believe is part of the problem."
"That's settled then." Jethro spoke firmly.
For a moment Ducky simply looked at him, his fond, loving, caring, openly revealing look. "And your idea?" he asked after a moment or two.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I wondered if you'd ever thought of writing."
"A book. You know, like McGee. Well not exactly like McGee."
"It's a lovely idea, Jethro, but what could I possibly write about?"
"I don't know, Duck, maybe you could finally make up endings for those thousand or so stories, you're always telling."
"Some of them do have endings."
Jethro laughed. "I'm serious, Duck," he said after a moment or two. "You're a natural story teller, and if you can tell them, I'm sure you can write them." As he looked at Ducky he noticed a spark appear in the pale blue gaze, a spark he suddenly realized had been missing over the last few months.
"Well?" he asked, squeezing Ducky's hand. "What do you think?" The brightness in Ducky's eyes told him exactly what his lover thought. He doubted if Ducky would complain about not being able to fill the hours in the day any longer.
He leaned forward. "Or," he said, taking Ducky's fork from his hand and putting it on his plate. "If you don't fancy re-telling your stories, you could always try writing porn, I understand that sells very well."
The next morning Jethro was even later getting to work.
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