AUTHOR: Ashleigh Anpilova
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
SUB-GENRE: First Time
SUMMARY: A normal day turns into something quite different as Ducky surprises his old friend.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for sageharper
The warm body snuggled next to him made a soft noise of contentment and snuggled even nearer. Jethro smiled to himself as he adjusted his embrace slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the sweet smelling, silky hair. Normally he was not a man for cuddling, preferring to sleep on his own side of the bed without being encumbered by another body in his arms. But this was different; this wasn't just any other body, this was Ducky: his dearest, oldest, closet friend and now lover.
As he felt Ducky's soft breath on his neck, his smile deepened and not for the first time he was tempted to pinch himself to see if he was actually awake and not asleep and dreaming. Part of him still had problems believing what had happened had happened; part of him had problems believing it had taken so long for it to happen.
And it had all begun in such a normal way. As he lay in the semi-darkness, the bedside lamp on Ducky's side of the bed still casting a soft glow, but Jethro wasn't about to move in order to turn it off, he thought back over the day's happenings.
AUTOPSY - THAT MORNING
"Good morning, my dear Jethro. And how are you this fine morning?" Ducky smiled at Gibbs as he strode into Autopsy.
The irritation that he'd been feeling only moments before fled as he felt Ducky's very presence calm him. "Morning, Duck. I'm okay. How are you?" Gibbs moved towards Ducky and looked down at him.
Less than two months ago Mrs. Mallard had finally passed away, and Gibbs knew how much his old friend still missed her. More than once in the weeks since her death Gibbs had left work at his usual late hour only to find Ducky's Morgan still packed in the parking lot. Each time he'd gone back into the building, down to Autopsy and badgered Ducky until he'd agreed to go home.
"I'm quite well, thank you, Jethro," Ducky replied. "In fact I was wondering if you would like to join me for supper tonight?"
"At your place?"
"Sure. That'd be good." The invitation and Gibbs's acceptance wasn't unusual; since his mother's death, Ducky had taken to inviting Gibbs to his home once a week or so. And it wasn't just so he could get an excellent home cooked meal which made Gibbs always accept the invitation. He knew that Ducky was still finding his Reston home somewhat too large and too quiet. Even he found himself missing the jarring sounds of Jeopardy blaring out from Mrs. Mallard's room. "Should I bring anything?" It was an automatic question, and one he knew the answer to.
Ducky smiled. "Just yourself."
Gibbs smiled back and briefly patted Ducky's shoulder. "Usual time?"
"Yes. Now, I assume you didn't come to visit me merely to ask how I was, did you?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Nah, nor to get away from the kids. Although - I'll tell you later. Have you finished the autopsy on Petty Officer Bailey?"
"Yes, I have. I was, in fact, just about to bring the report up to you."
"In that case I saved you a trip."
Ducky smiled. "Indeed you did. Well, it didn't reveal anything really surprising. It is as we thought; the Petty Officer was indeed murdered, and it was carried out in a very skillful way. I don't think it would be too immodest of me to say that more than one ME would have been fooled into believing our young friend had taken his own life."
RESTON HOUSE - LATER THAT EVENING
"Good evening, my dear Jethro. You are as prompt as ever, I see." Ducky smiled up at him.
"Hey, Duck." Jethro returned the smile. "Brought this for you," he said, handing over a bottle of red wine.
"There was no need, but thank you very much." Ducky took the bottle with one hand and with the other guided Jethro inside. He then shut the door and locked and bolted it - all actions that were perfectly normal.
However, the next thing that happened wasn't quite so normal. Putting the bottle down on the hall table, Ducky moved closer to Jethro and put his arms around him, thus pulling him into a hug. Slightly surprised even though they were very tactile and hugged quite often, it took Jethro a microsecond to respond and put his own arms around Ducky.
Seconds later Ducky broke the hug, took a step back and smiled up at Jethro. "It is lovely to see you, Jethro," he said, his tone low.
"You too, Duck," Jethro replied, giving Ducky's hair a quick ruffle. He began to take off his coat.
"Here, let me," Ducky said quickly. And before Jethro could reply, he'd helped Jethro off with his coat and had taken it and hung it up on the hat-stand.
Jethro blinked at the second 'not quite so normal' thing. Normally he just took his coat off and threw it over the banister. Okay, so Ducky often cast him one of his 'looks', but never before had he gone to the trouble of not only hanging the coat up, but of helping Jethro off with it. "You okay, Duck?" he found himself saying, before he could stop himself.
Ducky looked puzzled. "I'm perfectly well, thank you, Jethro. Why do you ask?"
Jethro shook his head. "No reason. I just . . . Forget it. Now you going to offer me a drink or we going to stand out here all evening?"
Ducky chuckled and then, once more surprising Jethro, slipped his arm through Jethro's picked up the bottle of wine with his other hand and began to walk towards the sitting room.
The room was one of Jethro's favorite rooms as it always made him feel peaceful and at ease as it was so very pleasant. It was expensively furnished but in a natural, comforting way. He never worried about the possibility of spilling anything or feeling that he'd crumple something if he sat down. As was usually the case only the wall lights and a couple of lamps provided lighting for the room and they cast a soft glow that was neither too bright nor too gloomy. In the background were the low sounds of classical music. Jethro wasn't one for music, classical or otherwise, but Ducky always seemed to know exactly what to choose to enhance rather than interfere; and Jethro never found his ears assaulted by twangs or shrieks.
"Do sit down," Ducky said, finally slipping his arm from Jethro's when they reached the sofa. He waited until Jethro did that thing, before turning and crossing to the drink's cabinet. "Your usual?" he asked.
"Sure, thanks." Jethro didn't know what it was but something was beginning to make his gut twitch just a little. He shook himself; he was clearly still in 'work mode', what could possibly be wrong here? He pushed aside the hug and arm linking - while both were a tad out of the ordinary, neither were unique occurrences. He watched as Ducky poured two drinks, whiskey for Jethro and a dry sherry for himself, before coming back to the sofa, handing Jethro his glass, putting his own glass down on the coffee table and sitting down next to Jethro.
"Your good health, my dear," Ducky said, picking up his sherry.
"Cheers, Duck." Jethro took a large swallow of the whiskey; as always it was good.
They sat and chatted as they always did for the next ten minutes or so, before Ducky drained his glass and using Jethro's knee to assist himself stood up. "I think everything should now be completely cooked; I just need to do the last few bits before serving. Do you wish to wait here or come through to the dining room?"
"I'll come through." Jethro drained his own glass and stood up. "Here, let me," he took Ducky's empty glass from him and carried both. As they walked to the door he half expected Ducky to put his arm back through his. When it didn't happen he found, to his surprise, himself oddly disappointed.
Ducky led the way into the dining room. "The wine is open and should have had long enough to breathe by now. Why don't you pour yourself a glass whilst I go and finish in the kitchen?" He took the two empty glasses from Jethro's hands.
"Huh?" Jethro just stood and stared at the sight. The table was laid with Ducky's best heavy, damask table-cloth and matching napkins rested on the side plates - but not just any side plates: they were from Ducky's best dinner service. Two crystal glasses, again Ducky's best, stood by each place setting; the cutlery was once again Ducky's finest, more soft music was playing in the background, but strangest of all, on the table stood two silver candelabras with half a dozen candles each, their flames flickering gently. The candles weren't the only lighting; once more subdued, soft wall lights provided extra lighting.
"Is something wrong, my dear?" Ducky asked.
Jethro shook himself. "No. Just wondering. Is this a special occasion, Duck?"
"Oh, yes," Ducky said, smiling at Jethro.
Hastily Jethro wracked his brain for what that could be. It wasn't his birthday and he knew it wasn't Ducky's (he might be a bastard but he never forgot his old friend's birthday) so what the hell could it be? It was the month they'd met some thirty-three years ago, but Ducky was hardly likely to want to 'celebrate' that. Was he? He never had before, but . . . Was it some other anniversary? Their first case together at NCIS, or something? Again he dismissed it; that wasn't the kind of person Ducky was.
Finally he had to admit defeat. "Er, sorry, Duck, but you're going to have to help me out here. What's the occasion?"
"Oh, your seduction. Tonight is the night I am seducing you," Ducky said simply. And then with a smile, he brushed his finger tips over the back of Jethro's hand and before Jethro could say anything, left the room, humming gently to himself.
It was some thirty seconds at least before Jethro forcibly and audibly closed his mouth and blinked hard. He shook his head; he couldn't have heard what he'd heard. Ducky couldn't have said what he'd said. Could he?
"I thought you were going to pour yourself a glass of wine." Ducky's voice pulled Jethro out of his stupor.
"What? Oh, yeah, I was." And acting purely on instinct, Jethro crossed to the sideboard, grabbed the open bottle of red wine and took it to the table.
"No, the other glass, Jethro. That one is for the white wine," Ducky said, catching Jethro's hand before he could pour wine into the smaller of the two glasses that stood by one of the plates.
"Right. Sorry." Jethro felt the skin on the back of his hand begin to tingle under Ducky's firm but gentle touch. Suddenly he found himself almost cataloguing Ducky's hand: it was softer than his own - there were no gun or tool calluses. When Ducky too his hand away, Jethro's suddenly felt cold. He poured himself a glass and took a long gulp. "Do you want one?" he asked, swallowing the what he knew to be excellent wine.
Ducky shook his head. "No, thank you. I'll pour myself a glass of white wine whilst I finish in the kitchen. I am afraid I misjudged the timing slightly; it'll be another ten minutes before we can eat the starter. I hope you don't mind." He tipped his head back and looked up at Jethro, who saw a hint of concern on the familiar face.
He shook his head and put this hand on Ducky's shoulder and squeezed it. "Course not, Duck," he said. "Can I do anything?" Again the offer was purely out of habit; they both knew that kitchens were not Jethro's favorite places.
Ducky chuckled and patted Jethro's hand. "No, my dear. Everything is under control. Just sit down and enjoy your wine - unless you wish to return to the sitting room?"
Jethro shook his head. "No, I'm good." He sat down on the nearest chair.
"Good," Ducky said, and then after hesitating for a second or two, turned and again left the room.
TWO HOURS LATER
They sat side by side on the sofa once again; a coffee pot and china cups together with one brandy and one whiskey glass and two bottles stood on the table in front of them. The meal had been, as Ducky's meals always were, excellent. Ducky had clearly gone to a great deal of trouble not only to provide Jethro's favorite foods, but also to ensure that everything was 'just so'.
Jethro was somewhat surprised that once Ducky had returned from the kitchen for the second time with the first course that they had slipped straight into their usual relaxed, close relationship, and the conversation had flowed and ebbed as it normally did. Ducky, naturally, dominated it, as he usually did, but it was like any other evening.
And yet it was also unlike any other evening. Throughout the meal Ducky had been more solicitous than usual, making sure Jethro's glass was topped up, and that he had enough food - he wouldn't let Jethro do anything. He'd also touched Jethro a lot more than he usually did, and yet not so much that Jethro could have found it irritating; his fingers flirted lightly with the back of Jethro's hands; a couple of times he'd even, for the briefest possible time, linked his fingers with Jethro's and his gaze, apart from when he was eating, had never left Jethro. If this was Ducky's seduction mode, Jethro approved!
As he sat, leaning into the corner of the sofa, his thigh touching Ducky's Jethro idly wondered if he should be troubled at all by the fact that Ducky was attempting to seduce him. Surely he should have left the dining room, left Ducky's house, when Ducky had told him?
But he hadn't. To start with he'd told himself he'd been too stunned by Ducky's words. Then that it would have been bad manners to have left after Ducky had gone to all the trouble to cook for him. And then that it wouldn't have been right to have left straight after the meal.
But as the evening went on, and the attention Ducky was paying him got more intense and the what he now knew to be subtle flirting became a little more obvious, as the touches became more intimate and lingering, as Ducky's steady gaze began to show more than just the fraternal love they'd shared for well over two and a half decades, as the desire peeped out, he knew it was more than just that. He wanted this. He wanted it very badly. He wanted it more than he'd wanted anything for as long as he could remember. He wanted to be seduced; he wanted to . . . Whatever Ducky had in mind.
His whole body now felt charged with a low level electrical current. He was aware that he'd been slightly, but not obviously, aroused for a while now; his mouth was slightly dry; his palms slightly damp and he tingled with expectation.
More than once since they'd sat down so near to one another, he'd momentarily considered throwing caution to the wind and taking over the game and kissing Ducky, but each time he'd stopped himself. And not just because he knew Ducky would be hurt, nor because this was new to him, he'd never even contemplated kissing a man before, but also because he'd never been the one seduced, the one not in charge and he was intrigued to see what would happen next.
He could smell Ducky's scent, the one he'd known and lived with for over thirty years; the unique mixture of pine trees, the sea, jasmine, formaldehyde and Ducky himself, as again Ducky brushed against him, learning forward to pick up his brandy glass. As he settled back, his hair brushed against Jethro's cheek and Jethro smothered a gasp.
He heard Duck's sigh of what was clearly pleasure, as he adjusted his position again; now he was ever closer to Jethro. Jethro took another swallow of the excellent whiskey and leaned forward to put his glass on the table.
"Oh, do allow me," Ducky said, as he deftly took the glass from Jethro's hand and put it down. Once it was safely on the table, Ducky quite deliberately took Jethro's hand in his and began to lightly stroke it, running his fingers over the back of Jethro's skin, caressing him. He then turned it over and held it with one hand, while he touched, soothing almost, each of the calluses that roughed Jethro's palm.
After several moments, his fingers began to flirt with Jethro's wrist and then trace around each finger and the thumb, going back and forth. Jethro swallowed hard as his earlier barely-there arousal began to increase. "Um, Duck," he finally said.
"Yes, my dear?" Ducky asked, now gazing at him with what Jethro could only describe as open adoration.
"Your seduction. I think you can say I'm well and truly seduced."
Ducky smiled and his eyes twinkled as he stared at Jethro. "Oh, I don't think so, my beloved. Not yet you're not. I have only just begun." And with that he leaned even nearer, sliding one hand behind Jethro's head and gently tugged until he was able to put his mouth on Jethro's.
As he experienced that newness of being kissed by the person who knew him better than anyone else; by the person he already loved above all others; by the person Jethro now knew he'd fallen deeply and passionately in love with, Jethro knew that Ducky had spoken the truth. It had only just begun. And he knew something else too; knew it with a startling and utterly clarity: this was it. Ducky was the one; the only person he wanted; the only person he would ever want.
He put his own arms around Ducky and pressed against him even more, opening his mouth beneath Ducky's lips, inviting Ducky to slip his tongue inside. The low level electrical charge that had throbbed around his body had increased ten, twenty, thirty fold and the tingling sensation was now so palpable he felt sure Ducky must be able to feel it through the layers of clothing; he felt sure it was encircling the room.
He lost track of how long they'd sat kissing and caressing one another through clothing, before, again using his knee to help him rise, Ducky stood up, offered Jethro his hand and guided him to his feet.
Then, after several more minutes spent in a now standing kiss - the sensations were completely different; the feel of a body he'd held in such a way before now so new as it displayed a different type of firmness - Ducky finally slipped his arm through Jethro's again and led him out of the room, up the stairs and into his bedroom.
There he insisted on taking his time removing Jethro's clothing, he took each piece off slowly and carefully (Jethro felt like grinding his teeth at times and demanding Ducky got on with it) and neatly placed it the chair. And as he revealed each part of Jethro's skin, he cherished it with his lips and fingers until Jethro was so highly aroused he wasn't sure whether he was standing, sitting or lying. Ducky's own undressing, at Ducky's own hands - this time Jethro allowed him that - was much quicker and more clinical. And then finally they were both naked and wrapped in one another's arm, heated skin against heated skin beneath the coolness of Ducky's sheets.
And there the seduction continued. For several more hours Jethro had bestowed upon him the kind of lovemaking he had never dreamed he would experience; the kind whereby he was made to feel he was the most important, the most loved, the most beloved, the most cherished man in the world. And from the look on Ducky's face, in the way he caressed, touched, teased, soothed and loved Jethro, but more importantly in the revealing, guileless blue eyes, Jethro knew to Ducky he was.
"I love you, Duck," Jethro whispered, as Ducky finally allowed him to repay some of the attention he had been lavishing on him. "I love you."
And with a smile of utter contentment Ducky, his own voice as low as Jethro's, replied, "And I, my beloved Jethro, love you too." And with those words he fell asleep in Jethro's arms.
And that was how a day that had started out as being just another perfectly normal day had turned into the seduction of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. A seduction of the kind he would never have thought possible; a seduction he now knew had been some thirty-three years in the offing.
It was real; he knew that - there was more than enough evidence for even him to believe it. And it was a reality he knew would last for as long as they were both still alive. And if there was any justice in the unjust world, long, long beyond that.
Brushing his lips gently one final time over Ducky's forehead and nuzzling back the heavy fringe, Jethro gathered his lover just that little bit nearer to him and fell asleep himself.