Fiction Challenge #1 - Blue Is My World
TITLE: Blue Is My World
AUTHOR: 3bebs
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
GENRE: Slash.
SUB-GENRE: Established Relationship
SUMMARY: Set after my Christmas fic "Twelve Ways To Say I Love You." Gibbs reflects back on how he and Ducky first met.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: Story written for the Choose Three Words challenge. The words I chose were: Blue, Evening, Moon.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, God but I wish I did. We would see more of Ducky for starters. But sadly they are not mine, so I do hope to borrow them ocassionally.
Blue is My World
Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked round at the gathering crowd of The NCIS New Years Eve Party, wishing for the umpteen time that he was happily secreted in his basement plane-ing the hell out of a piece of wood, but this was not to be. Tragically for him he had been persuaded, no! change that. He had been blackmailed into attending this God-forsaken event, where champagne was flowing freely and all brain cells distinctly disappearing. He came to this conclusion on a trip to the head, where he had come across a couple obviously trying to outdo the karma sutra.
Experienced eyes touched on several guests, and impressions duly noted, without making the receivers of said gaze feel uncomfortable. Gibbs had the knack of giving a single stare and getting as much information on that one look than many did on several.
It had been one such look to a total stranger Twenty-five or so years ago that had opened up a wonderful and long lasting relationship for him. Smiling in memory of one night such as this gave his insides a warm glow. The only evidence that he was reflecting on this, was a slight upward tilt to his mouth on an otherwise dour face.
He watched the faces of people he knew, from Jen Sheppard down to the lowly post room girl Nita. Yes that was her name, he had remembered her from Christmas, when she had given him a parcel, one of Duck’s twelve gifts. His smile increased more thinking about the last week.
Talking of Duck, Gibbs wondered where his lover was hiding. Normally Duck would be positively at home in this kind of reception, where he could regale people with his often exaggerated stories. Unfortunately the ME was nowhere to be seen, so Gibbs decided to leave the safety of playing wallflower, and work his way through the crowd to the stairs of the hall, where he could take advantage of the height to peruse the floor to see if he could catch sight his lost friend.
Unfortunately his attention was so focused on his destination, that he didn’t spot the Director, Jen Sheppard coming towards him with a tall tuxedo clad man. All he felt was the pull of his arm. He swiftly turned round with an expression of annoyance at being interrupted. However, before he could open his mouth Jen spoke. “Jethro. I would like you to meet Senator Sinclair,” she waved her to the man besides her. Gibbs gave him a look over before replying. “Pleased to meet you Senator.” A note of boredom entered his speech.
“Jen here has been doing nothing but praise you Agent Gibbs,” the Senator gave a grin that Gibbs took to be reminiscent of a snake.
“Really?” Gibbs gave Jen a pointed look. “Ma’am you do realize that I don’t work alone and any praise should be referred to the whole team and not just an individual.” Jen ignored the hidden warning “Jethro does not take praise well Senator.”
“I hear you don’t take authority too well either Agent Gibbs?” interrupted Sinclair.
“If it impedes on getting results in a case Senator, then I will retaliate. Now if you excuse me I have a team to confer with.” He went to leave but Jen grabbed his arm.” Jethro, surely you can’t be talking about work at such a time as this?” Gibbs gave Jen a devastating smile. "Ma’am criminals don’t do partying, nor do they care about timing, now if you would please both excuse me."
He left them, shaking his head, disbelief evident on his face that Jen would be as idiotic as to think that introducing her latest date to him, would result in him showing a streak of resentment or jealousy. He almost smiled at the fact that she was way off line.
Further unimpeded on his way to the stairs he looked quickly at the open French doors leading out on to the balcony. I wonder! Gibbs thought to himself, and changing his course, made his way through the crowd towards the French doors.
The soft evening breeze felt good after the suffocating air of the party’s interior. Sometimes Gibbs had felt claustrophobic at such events, the vast amount of people, the invasion of personal space, all disliked by Gibbs who liked the solitude of his own company or preferred few companions.
He saw in the dimness someone leaning over the balcony, their face taking in the coolness of the breeze. The figure turned their head. “You are losing your touch Jethro.” The soft British accent, untouched by years of living in the States came over Gibbs like a blanket of calm.
“Hiding from me Duck?” Gibbs retorted.
“Simply enjoying the solitude Dearest, one can tire of long speeches and story telling.” Gibbs could only nod in agreement as he glided over to where his long time lover had pitched himself.
Gibbs watched Ducky move to accommodate him on the balcony, and smiled as the older man leaned into him. The full moon cast light on Ducky’s features, and gave Gibbs a chance to imprint them in his mind.
At 63 Ducky was at least ten years older than Gibbs, but blessed with good genetics the older man looked years younger. Gibbs loved that dear face, loved every aspect of it. From the dark blond over long hair, the square jaw line, ok so Ducky now had more of a fleshy jaw line but who cared. The beautiful expressive oh so blue eyes, sometimes hidden behind bifocals, but by God they were impressive, almost almond shaped with a slight slant to them. The lines of age didn’t bother Gibbs at all they were still beautiful in his mind. And yet, he felt compelled to protect and nurture his older lover, this made Gibbs himself feel needed.
Their whole relationship was about mutual trust, deep respect and undisguised, unconditional love. And yet through no fault of their own it was a hidden relationship that should have been openly celebrated, but through some anarchic and social ideal, it was something that would be considered repellent to the more narrow minded of the human race, and unfortunately it was this breed who were in the majority. Consequently open displays of affection were reduced to mere touches and friendliness. Nevertheless if someone with a keener eye were to observe, they would come to the conclusion that there was more than friendship between the ME and the Special Agent, for however careful both men were their mutual affection for each other was clear.
“I remember such a night like this, a young man freshly out of the Marines, standing out on such a balcony as this.” Gibbs gave a laugh as Ducky continued with one of his many delightful tales. “The young man in question, clearly startled at the point his life was taking, honorably discharged from the service, much appreciated but probably the higher command were exceedingly grateful for his release from the Marines. And oh so young and yet there was sadness in his eyes, a sadness of a loss that no one of that age should bear.” Gibbs felt Ducky’s warm hand stroke his own that was lying on the balcony railings, as the soft tones of Ducky’s voice led him back twenty five years ago.
**************************************
Gunnery Sergeant, no! change that, ex Gunnery Sergeant LJ Gibbs, uncomfortable in his civilian uniform of newly acquire tuxedo, perused the vast hall of The Governors Residence. Clearly feeling out of place and wondering why he hadn’t declined the offer from his girlfriend Shannon to attend this celebration of the Governors birthday. He had found himself standing against a wall, watching the never ending play of over excited guests, wives out-dressing each other, politics, war and love, all being expressed in numerous conversations. While Gibbs looked on almost as if he had jumped down the rabbit hole akin to Alice in Wonderland. Unmistakably he felt well out of his depth, not as a result of not being able to converse well or interact with these party goers, but feeling misplaced because it wasn’t something he enjoyed.
His preference would be a night in with Shannon or a few close friends or even a solo evening watching a game with a beer or bourbon. Tonight however was a big mistake and he felt increasingly reluctant to stay. He fingered the tight collar of his shirt, the increased heat of the hall giving no mercy. He looked for a way out, and spotted an open door leading to a possible respite from the overbearing heat of not only the warmth but the guests too.
He wound his way through the crowds stopping at times, as manners prevailed to small talk to acquaintances and perfect strangers, mostly women who almost preened at him. Finally Gibbs managed to access the outside, and upon ultimately exiting the madhouse, he gave a small breath of relief.
“Getting to you too then?” Gibbs turned round at the voice, his eyes finally hitting a figure sitting back on a patio chair, face hidden from view. “I find it increasingly difficult to keep the flow of conversation going when one is flagging from this excessive heat.” The voice continued. Gibbs walked to the balcony overlooking a rather large lake, intending to get a better look at the owner of the accented voice, he didn’t like being observed secretly and this move would enable him to observe the man in return.
Once in place Gibbs turned round to face the darkened stranger. Yes that was better, the stranger’s face was in full view now, highlighted by the moon.
The man now knowing he was being observed in return broke a smile. “Forgive me, I rather forgot my manners, Donald Mallard.” He stood up arm out awaiting a shake of the hand in introduction. Gibbs took the open palm, noticing how warm it was, and returned the strong solid shake. “LJ Gibbs,” he returned. All the time observing the other man. Now that he was within a pace or two of Mallard, he gave him the once over. Mallard was small Gibbs would guess a height of five foot eight at the most, Gibbs himself was well over average height, but the way Mallard held himself straight, made Gibbs feel the height difference inconsequential.
Donald Mallard, Gibbs noticed was a very handsome man, no an exceptionally beautiful man Gibbs conceded. He liked beauty in all things whether it came in female or male form, he could appreciate both. Gibbs guessed that he was looking too closely as Donald gave a devastating smile that reflected his beauty even more. Gibbs was hypnotised, his eyes taking in the square jaw line, the high forehead, which was hidden from view by over long white blond bangs, which he could imagine Mallard constantly moving out of his eyes. Those eyes were now pinned to his own, the color unclear in the moonlight and yet completely open to him. Gibbs shook himself out of his hypnotic state when he realized that the man was speaking to him.
“Such boring events aren’t they?” Mallard alleged. “No wonder I prefer the company of my work colleagues.” Gibbs continued the conversation “What do you do Mr. Mallard?”
“I work for NCIS, as ME working my way up the ladder so the phrase goes. I am not officially the ME as yet, my superior as was, recently left the employ of the service under strange circumstances. Caught rather oddly trying to suffocate himself in one of the cold storage drawers. Dreadful business really, such a tragic end to one so specialized in his profession.” Gibbs noticed that Donald then prevented himself from further babbling on by touching Gibbs briefly on the arm, where it left a rather strange feeling of warmth. “Forgive me, in my vocation there is very little live company to converse with.” Gibbs laughed out loud for the first time in months, he remembered. “Well Doctor Mallard, I can understand. I recently was discharged, honorably of course, from the Marines, I was Gunnery Sergeant, up to a few weeks ago, now I feel strange being back in the land of civilians.”
Gibbs suddenly found himself eager to talk to the doctor. Donald obviously gave off vibes that created compassion and understanding, and this comforted Gibbs in that respect. He soon found that chatting to a stranger was indeed preferable to burdening his worries on a friend. Dr Mallard perceptibly noticed this and indicated for them both to sit down on a couple of patio chairs near a softly lit lamp.
Gibbs lamented how useless he felt now he was a civilian. “I have no real idea what my next move it, although I have interest in criminal investigation.” He noticed Dr Mallard staring intently at him, the color of the eyes now so distinctive in the light. They were a much darker shade of blue than his own and quite wide too. With a knack of finding things other people didn’t, he had noticed that the Doctor’s right eye was vaguely unfocused. Probably wears glasses he thought to himself. And far too attractive to work in autopsy.
Gibbs was in his own terms, bisexual. He appreciated both male and female forms equally and certainly took delight in appraising the form of Dr Mallard who was certainly eye-catching. By observation alone Gibbs came to the conclusion that Dr Mallard had, if not homosexual tendencies then certainly bisexual ones. The way he used his body language spoke that message out to Gibbs
“Have you ever considered NCIS as a matter of course for future employment? I imagine that your skills would be of great use to the service. Despite residing in the bowels of the NCIS building I do find it strangely invigorating to work there. If you are interested please let me know and I am sure I can get you in touch with the right people.” Dr Mallard smiled as he took out a small calling card, Gibbs took it automatically. “Thank you Dr Mallard, I appreciate this.” Dr Mallard shook his head. “No! Call me Donald, even better call me Duck.” Gibbs saw Ducky give an apologetic look. “It’s a name I am afraid continued with me after my schooling at Eton. It seems to have followed me every where. I do believe my parents misguidedly named me Donald Mallard without thinking of the possible repercussions.” Ducky rolled his eyes. “Then please call me Jethro, my mother named me Leroy, but as you can probably imagine I’d rather prefer my second name.” Gibbs returned. They both shook hands again and this time it was as if they were old friends, and that small act was something that Gibbs knew would remain with him in his memory.
*******************************
A similar touch to his hand brought Gibbs back to the present, and shaking his head slightly he turned to face the one solid rock in his life. “I knew Ducks, I knew as soon as we shook hands that second time, that it was the beginning of ...”
“What dearest, a beautiful friendship?” Ducky interrupted. Gibbs brought his hand up to stroke the soft cheek of his partner. “You know that it’s more than that Duck.” Gibbs whispered as Ducky closed his eyes leaning into the touch. “Of course I know my dear, I have always known.”
And because they were enclosed from sight, Gibbs managed to steal a small kiss from his lover.
Parting reluctantly from Ducky’s soft lips, Gibbs stood back brushed his fingers through Ducky’s hair, and gently mapped the beloved face. “Duck?”
“Yes my dear?”
“You are my world”
THE END
AUTHOR: 3bebs
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
GENRE: Slash.
SUB-GENRE: Established Relationship
SUMMARY: Set after my Christmas fic "Twelve Ways To Say I Love You." Gibbs reflects back on how he and Ducky first met.
AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: Story written for the Choose Three Words challenge. The words I chose were: Blue, Evening, Moon.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, God but I wish I did. We would see more of Ducky for starters. But sadly they are not mine, so I do hope to borrow them ocassionally.
Blue is My World
Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked round at the gathering crowd of The NCIS New Years Eve Party, wishing for the umpteen time that he was happily secreted in his basement plane-ing the hell out of a piece of wood, but this was not to be. Tragically for him he had been persuaded, no! change that. He had been blackmailed into attending this God-forsaken event, where champagne was flowing freely and all brain cells distinctly disappearing. He came to this conclusion on a trip to the head, where he had come across a couple obviously trying to outdo the karma sutra.
Experienced eyes touched on several guests, and impressions duly noted, without making the receivers of said gaze feel uncomfortable. Gibbs had the knack of giving a single stare and getting as much information on that one look than many did on several.
It had been one such look to a total stranger Twenty-five or so years ago that had opened up a wonderful and long lasting relationship for him. Smiling in memory of one night such as this gave his insides a warm glow. The only evidence that he was reflecting on this, was a slight upward tilt to his mouth on an otherwise dour face.
He watched the faces of people he knew, from Jen Sheppard down to the lowly post room girl Nita. Yes that was her name, he had remembered her from Christmas, when she had given him a parcel, one of Duck’s twelve gifts. His smile increased more thinking about the last week.
Talking of Duck, Gibbs wondered where his lover was hiding. Normally Duck would be positively at home in this kind of reception, where he could regale people with his often exaggerated stories. Unfortunately the ME was nowhere to be seen, so Gibbs decided to leave the safety of playing wallflower, and work his way through the crowd to the stairs of the hall, where he could take advantage of the height to peruse the floor to see if he could catch sight his lost friend.
Unfortunately his attention was so focused on his destination, that he didn’t spot the Director, Jen Sheppard coming towards him with a tall tuxedo clad man. All he felt was the pull of his arm. He swiftly turned round with an expression of annoyance at being interrupted. However, before he could open his mouth Jen spoke. “Jethro. I would like you to meet Senator Sinclair,” she waved her to the man besides her. Gibbs gave him a look over before replying. “Pleased to meet you Senator.” A note of boredom entered his speech.
“Jen here has been doing nothing but praise you Agent Gibbs,” the Senator gave a grin that Gibbs took to be reminiscent of a snake.
“Really?” Gibbs gave Jen a pointed look. “Ma’am you do realize that I don’t work alone and any praise should be referred to the whole team and not just an individual.” Jen ignored the hidden warning “Jethro does not take praise well Senator.”
“I hear you don’t take authority too well either Agent Gibbs?” interrupted Sinclair.
“If it impedes on getting results in a case Senator, then I will retaliate. Now if you excuse me I have a team to confer with.” He went to leave but Jen grabbed his arm.” Jethro, surely you can’t be talking about work at such a time as this?” Gibbs gave Jen a devastating smile. "Ma’am criminals don’t do partying, nor do they care about timing, now if you would please both excuse me."
He left them, shaking his head, disbelief evident on his face that Jen would be as idiotic as to think that introducing her latest date to him, would result in him showing a streak of resentment or jealousy. He almost smiled at the fact that she was way off line.
Further unimpeded on his way to the stairs he looked quickly at the open French doors leading out on to the balcony. I wonder! Gibbs thought to himself, and changing his course, made his way through the crowd towards the French doors.
The soft evening breeze felt good after the suffocating air of the party’s interior. Sometimes Gibbs had felt claustrophobic at such events, the vast amount of people, the invasion of personal space, all disliked by Gibbs who liked the solitude of his own company or preferred few companions.
He saw in the dimness someone leaning over the balcony, their face taking in the coolness of the breeze. The figure turned their head. “You are losing your touch Jethro.” The soft British accent, untouched by years of living in the States came over Gibbs like a blanket of calm.
“Hiding from me Duck?” Gibbs retorted.
“Simply enjoying the solitude Dearest, one can tire of long speeches and story telling.” Gibbs could only nod in agreement as he glided over to where his long time lover had pitched himself.
Gibbs watched Ducky move to accommodate him on the balcony, and smiled as the older man leaned into him. The full moon cast light on Ducky’s features, and gave Gibbs a chance to imprint them in his mind.
At 63 Ducky was at least ten years older than Gibbs, but blessed with good genetics the older man looked years younger. Gibbs loved that dear face, loved every aspect of it. From the dark blond over long hair, the square jaw line, ok so Ducky now had more of a fleshy jaw line but who cared. The beautiful expressive oh so blue eyes, sometimes hidden behind bifocals, but by God they were impressive, almost almond shaped with a slight slant to them. The lines of age didn’t bother Gibbs at all they were still beautiful in his mind. And yet, he felt compelled to protect and nurture his older lover, this made Gibbs himself feel needed.
Their whole relationship was about mutual trust, deep respect and undisguised, unconditional love. And yet through no fault of their own it was a hidden relationship that should have been openly celebrated, but through some anarchic and social ideal, it was something that would be considered repellent to the more narrow minded of the human race, and unfortunately it was this breed who were in the majority. Consequently open displays of affection were reduced to mere touches and friendliness. Nevertheless if someone with a keener eye were to observe, they would come to the conclusion that there was more than friendship between the ME and the Special Agent, for however careful both men were their mutual affection for each other was clear.
“I remember such a night like this, a young man freshly out of the Marines, standing out on such a balcony as this.” Gibbs gave a laugh as Ducky continued with one of his many delightful tales. “The young man in question, clearly startled at the point his life was taking, honorably discharged from the service, much appreciated but probably the higher command were exceedingly grateful for his release from the Marines. And oh so young and yet there was sadness in his eyes, a sadness of a loss that no one of that age should bear.” Gibbs felt Ducky’s warm hand stroke his own that was lying on the balcony railings, as the soft tones of Ducky’s voice led him back twenty five years ago.
**************************************
Gunnery Sergeant, no! change that, ex Gunnery Sergeant LJ Gibbs, uncomfortable in his civilian uniform of newly acquire tuxedo, perused the vast hall of The Governors Residence. Clearly feeling out of place and wondering why he hadn’t declined the offer from his girlfriend Shannon to attend this celebration of the Governors birthday. He had found himself standing against a wall, watching the never ending play of over excited guests, wives out-dressing each other, politics, war and love, all being expressed in numerous conversations. While Gibbs looked on almost as if he had jumped down the rabbit hole akin to Alice in Wonderland. Unmistakably he felt well out of his depth, not as a result of not being able to converse well or interact with these party goers, but feeling misplaced because it wasn’t something he enjoyed.
His preference would be a night in with Shannon or a few close friends or even a solo evening watching a game with a beer or bourbon. Tonight however was a big mistake and he felt increasingly reluctant to stay. He fingered the tight collar of his shirt, the increased heat of the hall giving no mercy. He looked for a way out, and spotted an open door leading to a possible respite from the overbearing heat of not only the warmth but the guests too.
He wound his way through the crowds stopping at times, as manners prevailed to small talk to acquaintances and perfect strangers, mostly women who almost preened at him. Finally Gibbs managed to access the outside, and upon ultimately exiting the madhouse, he gave a small breath of relief.
“Getting to you too then?” Gibbs turned round at the voice, his eyes finally hitting a figure sitting back on a patio chair, face hidden from view. “I find it increasingly difficult to keep the flow of conversation going when one is flagging from this excessive heat.” The voice continued. Gibbs walked to the balcony overlooking a rather large lake, intending to get a better look at the owner of the accented voice, he didn’t like being observed secretly and this move would enable him to observe the man in return.
Once in place Gibbs turned round to face the darkened stranger. Yes that was better, the stranger’s face was in full view now, highlighted by the moon.
The man now knowing he was being observed in return broke a smile. “Forgive me, I rather forgot my manners, Donald Mallard.” He stood up arm out awaiting a shake of the hand in introduction. Gibbs took the open palm, noticing how warm it was, and returned the strong solid shake. “LJ Gibbs,” he returned. All the time observing the other man. Now that he was within a pace or two of Mallard, he gave him the once over. Mallard was small Gibbs would guess a height of five foot eight at the most, Gibbs himself was well over average height, but the way Mallard held himself straight, made Gibbs feel the height difference inconsequential.
Donald Mallard, Gibbs noticed was a very handsome man, no an exceptionally beautiful man Gibbs conceded. He liked beauty in all things whether it came in female or male form, he could appreciate both. Gibbs guessed that he was looking too closely as Donald gave a devastating smile that reflected his beauty even more. Gibbs was hypnotised, his eyes taking in the square jaw line, the high forehead, which was hidden from view by over long white blond bangs, which he could imagine Mallard constantly moving out of his eyes. Those eyes were now pinned to his own, the color unclear in the moonlight and yet completely open to him. Gibbs shook himself out of his hypnotic state when he realized that the man was speaking to him.
“Such boring events aren’t they?” Mallard alleged. “No wonder I prefer the company of my work colleagues.” Gibbs continued the conversation “What do you do Mr. Mallard?”
“I work for NCIS, as ME working my way up the ladder so the phrase goes. I am not officially the ME as yet, my superior as was, recently left the employ of the service under strange circumstances. Caught rather oddly trying to suffocate himself in one of the cold storage drawers. Dreadful business really, such a tragic end to one so specialized in his profession.” Gibbs noticed that Donald then prevented himself from further babbling on by touching Gibbs briefly on the arm, where it left a rather strange feeling of warmth. “Forgive me, in my vocation there is very little live company to converse with.” Gibbs laughed out loud for the first time in months, he remembered. “Well Doctor Mallard, I can understand. I recently was discharged, honorably of course, from the Marines, I was Gunnery Sergeant, up to a few weeks ago, now I feel strange being back in the land of civilians.”
Gibbs suddenly found himself eager to talk to the doctor. Donald obviously gave off vibes that created compassion and understanding, and this comforted Gibbs in that respect. He soon found that chatting to a stranger was indeed preferable to burdening his worries on a friend. Dr Mallard perceptibly noticed this and indicated for them both to sit down on a couple of patio chairs near a softly lit lamp.
Gibbs lamented how useless he felt now he was a civilian. “I have no real idea what my next move it, although I have interest in criminal investigation.” He noticed Dr Mallard staring intently at him, the color of the eyes now so distinctive in the light. They were a much darker shade of blue than his own and quite wide too. With a knack of finding things other people didn’t, he had noticed that the Doctor’s right eye was vaguely unfocused. Probably wears glasses he thought to himself. And far too attractive to work in autopsy.
Gibbs was in his own terms, bisexual. He appreciated both male and female forms equally and certainly took delight in appraising the form of Dr Mallard who was certainly eye-catching. By observation alone Gibbs came to the conclusion that Dr Mallard had, if not homosexual tendencies then certainly bisexual ones. The way he used his body language spoke that message out to Gibbs
“Have you ever considered NCIS as a matter of course for future employment? I imagine that your skills would be of great use to the service. Despite residing in the bowels of the NCIS building I do find it strangely invigorating to work there. If you are interested please let me know and I am sure I can get you in touch with the right people.” Dr Mallard smiled as he took out a small calling card, Gibbs took it automatically. “Thank you Dr Mallard, I appreciate this.” Dr Mallard shook his head. “No! Call me Donald, even better call me Duck.” Gibbs saw Ducky give an apologetic look. “It’s a name I am afraid continued with me after my schooling at Eton. It seems to have followed me every where. I do believe my parents misguidedly named me Donald Mallard without thinking of the possible repercussions.” Ducky rolled his eyes. “Then please call me Jethro, my mother named me Leroy, but as you can probably imagine I’d rather prefer my second name.” Gibbs returned. They both shook hands again and this time it was as if they were old friends, and that small act was something that Gibbs knew would remain with him in his memory.
*******************************
A similar touch to his hand brought Gibbs back to the present, and shaking his head slightly he turned to face the one solid rock in his life. “I knew Ducks, I knew as soon as we shook hands that second time, that it was the beginning of ...”
“What dearest, a beautiful friendship?” Ducky interrupted. Gibbs brought his hand up to stroke the soft cheek of his partner. “You know that it’s more than that Duck.” Gibbs whispered as Ducky closed his eyes leaning into the touch. “Of course I know my dear, I have always known.”
And because they were enclosed from sight, Gibbs managed to steal a small kiss from his lover.
Parting reluctantly from Ducky’s soft lips, Gibbs stood back brushed his fingers through Ducky’s hair, and gently mapped the beloved face. “Duck?”
“Yes my dear?”
“You are my world”
THE END