TITLE: Acting On Instinct
AUTHOR: Ashleigh Anpilova
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
SUB-GENRE: First Time
SUMMARY: Jethro is finding it difficult to find the right moment to tell Ducky how he feels about him. Written for Challenge #11 'Beginning'.
PROMPT: 20_1sttimes 19 - Substitution
WORD COUNT: 799
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.
Jethro pulled out upside the woman's apartment building.
"Do you want to come up for a coffee?" she asked, her voice sultry. She left Jethro in no doubts as to what 'coffee' really meant.
He shook his head. "No, thanks," he said, trying to keep his tone easy going.
What was the point? All that would happen, was what had happened with the previous two women. He'd end up having to fantasize about someone else just in order to even remotely satisfy the woman.
And it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair to the woman.
Or to the person he was fantasizing about. Not that the person knew, but that wasn't the point.
The encounters always left Jethro feeling grubby, the kind of dirtiness that didn't go away, even after a long, hot shower. And it always left him feeling oddly guilty, thus he tended to avoid the person he'd fantasized about the following day. Which in turn made him feel even guiltier, as he knew it both confused and worried the person concerned.
It was a mess, and one that he had to do something about - soon.
"Well, if you're sure. I make very good coffee," she drawled.
He gritted his teeth. "Sorry, love to, but I've got some reports to check." He learned across the car, gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, and opened the door.
She glanced at him. Then frowned, tossed her long red hair, slid out of the car and growled, "Don't bother calling again." She slammed the door behind her.
"Wasn't planning to," he muttered, gunning the engine and driving off.
It was ridiculous. He knew what he wanted. He knew who he wanted. He knew who he loved. And what was more, he knew that the person wanted and loved him back. So why was it so hard? Why didn't he just act on instinct and . . .
Go around to Ducky's house, grab him and kiss him.
But he couldn't. Ducky wasn't the kind you just grabbed and kissed. And yet . . .
He sighed again. It shouldn't be that hard. He'd known Ducky for thirty years, and for most, make that all, of those years he'd known how Ducky felt about him. Thus the fact that Ducky would respond positively to the kiss, was a given. But no, he had to wait and find the right moment.
You've been waiting for that for the last four months. It was true he had, and somehow 'the right moment' hadn't arisen. It might have something to do with the fact that Jethro didn't know what 'the right moment' was exactly.
All he did know was that he was getting more and more tired of the substitutes whose bed he kept wandering into, in order to spend an unsuccessful hour or so, that left him more frustrated than pleasured.
"What the . . . ?" he muttered, as he glanced out of the windscreen to see that he'd pulled up outside of Ducky's Reston home. He glanced at his watch; it was still reasonably early, his friend wouldn't be in bed yet. He'd probably be sitting reading one of his old books or medical journals and enjoying a glass of good whiskey.
A drink sounded good; a drink in Ducky's company sounded even better, and it wasn't as though he had to go home and shower off the reminders of his latest disastrous and foolish date. He'd go in, have a drink, relax, let Ducky ramble at him, and unwind in the presence of the man he loved; his dearest, oldest and closest friend. And who knows, maybe 'the right moment' would arrive and he'd be able to tell Ducky how he felt.
"Jethro my dear. What a pleasant surprise."
"Do come in."
Jethro went into Ducky's house, closing and locking the door behind him; Ducky always liked to keep it locked whether he was in the house or not.
After securing the house, Jethro turned around, ready to go upstairs with Ducky to his sitting room, let his friend pour him a drink and -
"Jethro," Ducky spluttered, his surprise clear.
Several minutes later Ducky spoke again. "Oh, Jethro," he murmured, pressing himself even further into Jethro's arms and offering his mouth for another long and lingering kiss.
It was some time before Jethro and Ducky were able to stop kissing for long enough to allow them to go upstairs.
However, it wasn’t to Ducky’s sitting room and his whiskey they went, but to his bedroom and his bed.
As Jethro began to replace his fantasizes with a far superior reality, he knew that his time for substitution and fantasizing was over. He no longer needed either; now he had the real thing.