Good With My Hands
The other man took a sip of his brandy, smiling slightly.
“And don’t ask about the amount of paperwork I have sitting on my desk right now. No matter how much I delegate it out I still have a stack. And when I refuse to do it they just keep sending me more, like they can bulldoze me into it with the sheer amount. It’s a conspiracy.”
“Sounds like.” He set his glad back on the table and pulled out the sander, running his hands over the boat for a minute, looking for the right place to get started. He found it, a slightly rougher patch from the rest and began the calming motion of sanding the skeleton of his boat.
“You can be all monosyllabic as you like, I know you feel the same.”
“You need to stop spending so much time with your geek squad.”
Jack laughed, but other than that he managed to stay quiet for a few more minutes, finishing off his beer. One of the things Gibbs had always liked about Jack though was his voice, the sheer amount of humor and sarcasm that spewed from the man’s lips was amazing. Part of himself wondered what it would have been like, if he’d never meet Jack O’Neill. He wondered how things would have turned out for the both of them if they hadn’t lost their families and found one another to turn to, but he’d never know. As dark and terrible as things had been for either of them, he didn’t want to know how deep that spiral would have gone without that small light.
He looked up as Jack hit the bottom of the stairs. “So, you gonna tell me where to get started or just gonna stare at me all night?”
Gibbs handed Jack another sander and pointed to the place he wanted him to start.
“Always said I was good with my hands.” Jack announced as he began the smooth easy glide over the wood.
Gibbs smiled. “Guess we’ll see about that once we’re done.”
Jack turned to Gibbs and winked but didn’t say a thing. He didn’t need to really, because Gibbs already knew.
“And don’t ask about the amount of paperwork I have sitting on my desk right now. No matter how much I delegate it out I still have a stack. And when I refuse to do it they just keep sending me more, like they can bulldoze me into it with the sheer amount. It’s a conspiracy.”
“Sounds like.” He set his glad back on the table and pulled out the sander, running his hands over the boat for a minute, looking for the right place to get started. He found it, a slightly rougher patch from the rest and began the calming motion of sanding the skeleton of his boat.
“You can be all monosyllabic as you like, I know you feel the same.”
“You need to stop spending so much time with your geek squad.”
Jack laughed, but other than that he managed to stay quiet for a few more minutes, finishing off his beer. One of the things Gibbs had always liked about Jack though was his voice, the sheer amount of humor and sarcasm that spewed from the man’s lips was amazing. Part of himself wondered what it would have been like, if he’d never meet Jack O’Neill. He wondered how things would have turned out for the both of them if they hadn’t lost their families and found one another to turn to, but he’d never know. As dark and terrible as things had been for either of them, he didn’t want to know how deep that spiral would have gone without that small light.
He looked up as Jack hit the bottom of the stairs. “So, you gonna tell me where to get started or just gonna stare at me all night?”
Gibbs handed Jack another sander and pointed to the place he wanted him to start.
“Always said I was good with my hands.” Jack announced as he began the smooth easy glide over the wood.
Gibbs smiled. “Guess we’ll see about that once we’re done.”
Jack turned to Gibbs and winked but didn’t say a thing. He didn’t need to really, because Gibbs already knew.