Fiction: New Years Eve PG-13
TITLE: New Years Eve
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
CHARACTERS: Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Donald “Ducky” Mallard
GENRE: slash, first time
WORD COUNT: 833
RATING: PG-13
PROMPT: Yuletide Promptathon: Ducky takes the lead.
SPOILERS: A teeny bit for “Faith”
SUMMARY: Ducky decides to take matters into his own hands.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
“Oh, bother!” Ducky said as he snapped shut his cell phone. Gibbs was not answering either his cell or his land line.
Still Ducky went on packing food into a large basket. Lastly, he placed in a bottle of champagne.
He was determined not to let another year go by without keeping his resolution.
He hefted the basket and went out to his Morgan.
Traffic was already getting heavy as he drove to Jethro’s house.
Several times he had to fight off the urge to just turn around and forget his resolution for another year.
Finally he pulled into Gibbs’s drive way. Ducky was both relieved and disappointed to see the bright yellow Challenger.
He got out of his car, retrieved the basket and walked slowly up the porch steps.
He knew the door would be unlocked, so he neither rang the bell nor knocked.
He walked inside to the dark silent room. It was empty, just as he had surmised.
He made his way to the basement door and stopped on the landing.
“Happy New Year, Jethro” he called.
“Same to you, Duck.” Gibbs said without looking up from his sanding. “My Dad isn’t here.”
“Yes, I know. He told me that he would be leaving early this morning. He indicated that he had a ‘hot date’ for this evening.”
“Yeah, with Ms. Hannigan.” Gibbs muttered.
“I am sure that it is quite innocent, Jethro.”
“Yeah, and I hear she makes great candy, too. What are you doing here, Duck? Didn’t you have a party or four to go to?”
“Indeed I did. However, I am tired of going stag”
“Did you ask anyone?”
“No, because the person I would most desire to be my date, would refuse to go.”
“”If you didn’t ask, how can you be so sure?”
“Very well. Would you have gone with me to any of the parties, Jethro?”
“No.”
“I rest my case.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you are here now.”
“Well, since I knew that we would both be at home this evening and we both had to eat, I thought that it would be pleasant to provide the meal. And I must finally keep a resolution.” Ducky said, the last sentence barely audible.
“What?”
“Oh, never mind that. Perhaps you will give me a hand with this basket.”
Jethro shrugged and climbed the stairs and took the basket.
He set it down on the work bench and began to assemble a make-shift table of plywood and saw-horses.
Ducky opened the basket and withdrew a table cloth. He spread it over the plywood.
“Kinda fancy for a basement, isn‘t it?”
“Presentation is everything, my dear.”
Noticing the bottle of champagne, Gibbs said, “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, he returned with a metal bucket full of snow.
“I think this will work.” he said as he placed the bottle in it. “I also brought down the good bourbon and a real glass. Wow!”
The table had been loaded with so much food that the plywood was sagging slightly under the weight.
“You expecting a few more people, Duck?” Gibbs said as he handed him an amber-filled glass.
Ducky accepted the glass gratefully and took a healthy swig.
“I hate to see people go hungry. Jethro, do tuck in.”
Gibbs could not remember when he had eaten anything more than a piece of cold pizza, and “tucked in” with relish.
After several minutes he looked up. Ducky was just toying with his food. His glass had been emptied and filled, however.
“You not hungry, Duck?”
“I am…oh my. Jethro, it is nearly midnight. Would you please open the champagne?”
Gibbs stood up and walked over to the workbench. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until he found Dick Clark’s count-down show. He turned the sound down until it was just audible.
Popping the cork on the bottle, he poured the bubbly wine into the flutes that Ducky had provided.
He placed a glass in front of Ducky and said “You gonna tell me what is wrong, or what.”
Ducky cleared his throat and said,” It is rather complicated. For many years now, I have set a task unto myself: that I would kiss you before the year was out. I always hoped, in my heart of hearts, that it would evolve into more. A relationship of the more physical nature, perhaps.”
Gibbs stood up and motioned for Ducky to do so also.
He pulled the smaller man close, and as blue eyes looked into the same blue eyes, he bent his head and kissed him.
The brief second of surprised faded as Ducky leaned into the kiss.
Breaking off only for a need to breathe, Ducky gasped.
“Jethro?”
“You never asked me.”
Ducky laid his head on the strong chest as two arms embraced him.
The couple swayed gently in the dark basement as the strains of Auld Lang Syne played softly in the background.
AUTHOR: Ashley-Pitt
CHARACTERS: Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Donald “Ducky” Mallard
GENRE: slash, first time
WORD COUNT: 833
RATING: PG-13
PROMPT: Yuletide Promptathon: Ducky takes the lead.
SPOILERS: A teeny bit for “Faith”
SUMMARY: Ducky decides to take matters into his own hands.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
“Oh, bother!” Ducky said as he snapped shut his cell phone. Gibbs was not answering either his cell or his land line.
Still Ducky went on packing food into a large basket. Lastly, he placed in a bottle of champagne.
He was determined not to let another year go by without keeping his resolution.
He hefted the basket and went out to his Morgan.
Traffic was already getting heavy as he drove to Jethro’s house.
Several times he had to fight off the urge to just turn around and forget his resolution for another year.
Finally he pulled into Gibbs’s drive way. Ducky was both relieved and disappointed to see the bright yellow Challenger.
He got out of his car, retrieved the basket and walked slowly up the porch steps.
He knew the door would be unlocked, so he neither rang the bell nor knocked.
He walked inside to the dark silent room. It was empty, just as he had surmised.
He made his way to the basement door and stopped on the landing.
“Happy New Year, Jethro” he called.
“Same to you, Duck.” Gibbs said without looking up from his sanding. “My Dad isn’t here.”
“Yes, I know. He told me that he would be leaving early this morning. He indicated that he had a ‘hot date’ for this evening.”
“Yeah, with Ms. Hannigan.” Gibbs muttered.
“I am sure that it is quite innocent, Jethro.”
“Yeah, and I hear she makes great candy, too. What are you doing here, Duck? Didn’t you have a party or four to go to?”
“Indeed I did. However, I am tired of going stag”
“Did you ask anyone?”
“No, because the person I would most desire to be my date, would refuse to go.”
“”If you didn’t ask, how can you be so sure?”
“Very well. Would you have gone with me to any of the parties, Jethro?”
“No.”
“I rest my case.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you are here now.”
“Well, since I knew that we would both be at home this evening and we both had to eat, I thought that it would be pleasant to provide the meal. And I must finally keep a resolution.” Ducky said, the last sentence barely audible.
“What?”
“Oh, never mind that. Perhaps you will give me a hand with this basket.”
Jethro shrugged and climbed the stairs and took the basket.
He set it down on the work bench and began to assemble a make-shift table of plywood and saw-horses.
Ducky opened the basket and withdrew a table cloth. He spread it over the plywood.
“Kinda fancy for a basement, isn‘t it?”
“Presentation is everything, my dear.”
Noticing the bottle of champagne, Gibbs said, “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, he returned with a metal bucket full of snow.
“I think this will work.” he said as he placed the bottle in it. “I also brought down the good bourbon and a real glass. Wow!”
The table had been loaded with so much food that the plywood was sagging slightly under the weight.
“You expecting a few more people, Duck?” Gibbs said as he handed him an amber-filled glass.
Ducky accepted the glass gratefully and took a healthy swig.
“I hate to see people go hungry. Jethro, do tuck in.”
Gibbs could not remember when he had eaten anything more than a piece of cold pizza, and “tucked in” with relish.
After several minutes he looked up. Ducky was just toying with his food. His glass had been emptied and filled, however.
“You not hungry, Duck?”
“I am…oh my. Jethro, it is nearly midnight. Would you please open the champagne?”
Gibbs stood up and walked over to the workbench. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until he found Dick Clark’s count-down show. He turned the sound down until it was just audible.
Popping the cork on the bottle, he poured the bubbly wine into the flutes that Ducky had provided.
He placed a glass in front of Ducky and said “You gonna tell me what is wrong, or what.”
Ducky cleared his throat and said,” It is rather complicated. For many years now, I have set a task unto myself: that I would kiss you before the year was out. I always hoped, in my heart of hearts, that it would evolve into more. A relationship of the more physical nature, perhaps.”
Gibbs stood up and motioned for Ducky to do so also.
He pulled the smaller man close, and as blue eyes looked into the same blue eyes, he bent his head and kissed him.
The brief second of surprised faded as Ducky leaned into the kiss.
Breaking off only for a need to breathe, Ducky gasped.
“Jethro?”
“You never asked me.”
Ducky laid his head on the strong chest as two arms embraced him.
The couple swayed gently in the dark basement as the strains of Auld Lang Syne played softly in the background.