Fic: An answer
TITLE: An answer
AUTHOR: Sage Harper (aka Erehwon6)
PAIRING: Gibbs/Ducky
GENRE: Slash
SUB-GENRE: first-time
WORD COUNT: 1,611
WARNINGS: n/a
SPOILERS: References to canon, but not spoilers as such.
SUMMARY: Three rings and an answering machine is what he got …
DISCLAIMER: All the good stuff belongs to Don McGill et all, I'm just borrowing and will put them back when I've finished.
AUTHOUR'S NOTES Written for challenge #41, based on the song ‘Austin’ by Blake Shelton. Lyrics can be found here.
The first time he had abandoned Ducky, Jethro hadn’t left a number, it didn’t seem right to anyway. Not fair on Ducky, on the off chance Ducky was dumb enough to expect him to call. That and it seemed poetic, in a warped way, for things to come full circle. Jethro was a husband without a wife, a father without a child, so why not make a clean sweep and be in love without a lover.
He’d never told Ducky any of those things, it didn’t seem right to burden what was still a stranger (can someone be a stranger when you get the feeling they know you better than you know yourself?). Still they had only just met, in less than noteworthy circumstances, a month or so before. Jethro could say how many days if he so cared to admit to knowing.
On the face of it Jethro liked to pretend it didn’t matter much, that it was just a hook up; he was a handsome strong silent type marine. And Ducky was a handsome loquacious doctor who could hold them both up. Had, already.
See Jethro never ran when Ducky offered his heart because he didn’t want it, he ran because he didn’t deserve it. Not when his own was clouded with poison for what had happened to his beloved girls.
It just seemed easier that way, kinder, to just walk away. That morning when he boarded a flight to Mexico to finish what had been started.
“Sorry, Ducky, but I gotta go.”
“I understand,” Ducky replied, with a sincerity that rattled Jethro. He shouldn’t have let Ducky drop him at the airport.
“So, you gonna be staying in Scotland?”
“That is the general idea of a holiday, yes.”
Jethro laughed, couldn’t help it; “I mean for longer than a vacation.”
“I don’t know, we’ll have to see. The world is a big place.”
When Jethro emptied his pockets, handing over his keys and wedding ring, he found a business card slipped into his possession like a conjurer’s trick.
Any sensible person would have known when to walk away.
He put it inside his wallet.
~ooOoo~
That was meant to be the end of it, Jethro had thought. After all he was straight, right? Dated women, married one, married another just to be entirely sure. And still he couldn’t shake the image of Ducky from his mind. Especially on those long nights after ex-wife number two had taken the business end of a seven iron to his skull and he’d had time to think about it. Ducky would have probably said that knocked some sense into it, maybe it did. That and the article in the paper about a recent murder; how many medical examiners could there be named Donald Mallard, let alone that would use words that compelled Gibbs to dig out his dictionary?
He found that business card too, figured it was worth a shot.
It felt like someone had shoved a cotton ball to the back of his mouth as waited three rings, then heard the answer machine kick in …
Hello, you have reached Doctor Mallard.
I shall be out of the office for the entirety of this week, due to an unforeseen family situation. Please leave a message here, and I will get back to you at the first available opportunity.
Ps. If this is Jethro Gibbs, I forgive you.
The phone clattered to the floor, and Jethro fully comprehended the meaning of speechless.
What kind of a man would do that, after everything that had happened to be expecting his call? It was … romantic.
Suffice to say romance was not something Jethro Gibbs tended to be on the receiving end of it, but even that happened more of that he tried to romance anyone else.
Jethro could picture him, sitting at his desk, giving careful consideration to every word. The nuances of his tone. The way he was at that moment, once he’d grabbed the phone from the floor and put it back into the cradle.
Three days later he finally got the nerve to call again, and this time to leave a proper message.
“Hey, Duck, it’s me. Uh Jethro, I mean. Don’t know if you really meant it about forgiving me for being such a bastard to you, but if you do then uh how ‘bout we go for a drink sometime. I’ll buy … Please?”
~ooOoo~
That should have been the end of it, at glorious Hollywood ending. They called each other, went for a drink, fell in love again (except they didn’t, because that implied there having been a point when they weren’t in love), and it all came right after all.
Except it didn’t.
Because Gibbs was still a bastard, and an idiot. The kind of dumb bastard idiot who would go back to Mexico because his head had taken a damn good wallop then too, which wasn’t much of a defence. Then he’d come back, make it right for a little while, with them being friends because he could get that part right. Oh yeah, and then he got his head turned by Hollis Mann; that curious hybrid of Barbie and Attila the Hun. He wasn’t really sure what he’d been thinking there; even McGee hadn’t been able to give a tactful response.
So there he was, returning earlier than expected after a long but successful mission in LA, driving through the rain with some old John Denver song on the radio. Gibbs wasn’t a music in the car kinda guy, but it didn’t take all his detective skills to realise he missed having sounds around him. Specifically the sound of a warm Scottish accented voice that sounded like old shoes feel, even when it was yelling at him for not taking ‘the other left’.
He found the number easily, knew it as well as his name, rank, and serial number. Though unlike those he’d never give them up on duress, wouldn’t put Ducky in harms way.
Only if he was being honest with himself, and tried to because he wasn’t entirely with anyone else, Jethro did all the time. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. All this messing about with women, going off on assignments with no backward glance, surely that was a crueller fate.
The phone rang over and over, he could picture the scene exactly as the sound echoed through the near empty house. Duck always swore it got colder and bigger when Jethro was away. Then the answer machine kicked in …
Hello, you have reached Doctor Mallard.
If you are enquiring about the Morgan, it is no longer for sale due to a change of circumstances. Any efforts to make me buy something over the telephone will not work. However, if it is anyone else; please wait for the tone, you know what to do.
Oh and Jethro, I miss you.
He knew it, sure as anything what he would say. What he should have said all those years ago.
~ooOoo~
After a long relaxing bath, or it would have been if that blasted phone hadn’t gone off (honestly did people have no courtesy?) Ducky Mallard wrapped himself in his particular favourite white towelen robe and ambled downstairs. He half expected to be tripped up by one of the corgis on his way down; momentarily forgetting that the corgis had passed some time ago, one by one, as if they understood and on some metaphysical level could no longer live without being doted on by his mother.
Realising he was rather peckish Ducky contemplated making himself a light supper, cheese and biscuits with a nice glass of port would be delightful. Yes, he’d get right to it once he’d checked who had called.
It took barely more than a pause for breathe for Ducky to identify the voice. A sound that had always cut straight to the core of him and then radiated out heat and pleasure. Which could by turns be the most blissful and wretched feeling in the world.
This is Jethro Gibbs’ phone.
If you’re asking ‘bout my heart, it’s been taken off the market due to circumstances that it’s been too damn stupid to notice for twenty five years.
Ducky heard the crunch of gravel on the drive way, a car engine stopping and the metal ticking as it cooled down …
So any attempts to make me love anyone else aint gonna work.
Foot steps approaching, he really ought to answer the door, but Ducky couldn’t tear himself away.
So, if you’re Doctor Donald Mallard. Then you damn well better say what I think you’re gonna say once I finished talking. Because like it or not you’re stuck with me loving you for the rest of my life.
“And by the way,” the voice was closer now, and Ducky pivoted towards as fast as he could with his bad leg, like a month to a flame. “That isn’t an answer machine message any more. There’s something that just have to be said in person.”
Jethro smiled at him, the smile only Ducky got to see, one that seemed to hold all the light and warmth of the sun.
He closed the gap between them, put his mouth against Ducky’s, and didn’t let up until Ducky had to break away because otherwise he was sure that he would melt into the floorboards.
“I’ve missed you too, Duck. More than I could ever say, even if that time. So how about I don’t go away again …”
“But you can’t promise that, after all with your job.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Oh.” Ducky’s eye widened in realisation. “Oh.”
“Yeah, Duck.”
“In which case, on the off chance it requires reiterating; I love you too, my dear Jethro.”
AUTHOR: Sage Harper (aka Erehwon6)
PAIRING: Gibbs/Ducky
GENRE: Slash
SUB-GENRE: first-time
WORD COUNT: 1,611
WARNINGS: n/a
SPOILERS: References to canon, but not spoilers as such.
SUMMARY: Three rings and an answering machine is what he got …
DISCLAIMER: All the good stuff belongs to Don McGill et all, I'm just borrowing and will put them back when I've finished.
AUTHOUR'S NOTES Written for challenge #41, based on the song ‘Austin’ by Blake Shelton. Lyrics can be found here.
The first time he had abandoned Ducky, Jethro hadn’t left a number, it didn’t seem right to anyway. Not fair on Ducky, on the off chance Ducky was dumb enough to expect him to call. That and it seemed poetic, in a warped way, for things to come full circle. Jethro was a husband without a wife, a father without a child, so why not make a clean sweep and be in love without a lover.
He’d never told Ducky any of those things, it didn’t seem right to burden what was still a stranger (can someone be a stranger when you get the feeling they know you better than you know yourself?). Still they had only just met, in less than noteworthy circumstances, a month or so before. Jethro could say how many days if he so cared to admit to knowing.
On the face of it Jethro liked to pretend it didn’t matter much, that it was just a hook up; he was a handsome strong silent type marine. And Ducky was a handsome loquacious doctor who could hold them both up. Had, already.
See Jethro never ran when Ducky offered his heart because he didn’t want it, he ran because he didn’t deserve it. Not when his own was clouded with poison for what had happened to his beloved girls.
It just seemed easier that way, kinder, to just walk away. That morning when he boarded a flight to Mexico to finish what had been started.
“Sorry, Ducky, but I gotta go.”
“I understand,” Ducky replied, with a sincerity that rattled Jethro. He shouldn’t have let Ducky drop him at the airport.
“So, you gonna be staying in Scotland?”
“That is the general idea of a holiday, yes.”
Jethro laughed, couldn’t help it; “I mean for longer than a vacation.”
“I don’t know, we’ll have to see. The world is a big place.”
When Jethro emptied his pockets, handing over his keys and wedding ring, he found a business card slipped into his possession like a conjurer’s trick.
Any sensible person would have known when to walk away.
He put it inside his wallet.
~ooOoo~
That was meant to be the end of it, Jethro had thought. After all he was straight, right? Dated women, married one, married another just to be entirely sure. And still he couldn’t shake the image of Ducky from his mind. Especially on those long nights after ex-wife number two had taken the business end of a seven iron to his skull and he’d had time to think about it. Ducky would have probably said that knocked some sense into it, maybe it did. That and the article in the paper about a recent murder; how many medical examiners could there be named Donald Mallard, let alone that would use words that compelled Gibbs to dig out his dictionary?
He found that business card too, figured it was worth a shot.
It felt like someone had shoved a cotton ball to the back of his mouth as waited three rings, then heard the answer machine kick in …
Hello, you have reached Doctor Mallard.
I shall be out of the office for the entirety of this week, due to an unforeseen family situation. Please leave a message here, and I will get back to you at the first available opportunity.
Ps. If this is Jethro Gibbs, I forgive you.
The phone clattered to the floor, and Jethro fully comprehended the meaning of speechless.
What kind of a man would do that, after everything that had happened to be expecting his call? It was … romantic.
Suffice to say romance was not something Jethro Gibbs tended to be on the receiving end of it, but even that happened more of that he tried to romance anyone else.
Jethro could picture him, sitting at his desk, giving careful consideration to every word. The nuances of his tone. The way he was at that moment, once he’d grabbed the phone from the floor and put it back into the cradle.
Three days later he finally got the nerve to call again, and this time to leave a proper message.
“Hey, Duck, it’s me. Uh Jethro, I mean. Don’t know if you really meant it about forgiving me for being such a bastard to you, but if you do then uh how ‘bout we go for a drink sometime. I’ll buy … Please?”
~ooOoo~
That should have been the end of it, at glorious Hollywood ending. They called each other, went for a drink, fell in love again (except they didn’t, because that implied there having been a point when they weren’t in love), and it all came right after all.
Except it didn’t.
Because Gibbs was still a bastard, and an idiot. The kind of dumb bastard idiot who would go back to Mexico because his head had taken a damn good wallop then too, which wasn’t much of a defence. Then he’d come back, make it right for a little while, with them being friends because he could get that part right. Oh yeah, and then he got his head turned by Hollis Mann; that curious hybrid of Barbie and Attila the Hun. He wasn’t really sure what he’d been thinking there; even McGee hadn’t been able to give a tactful response.
So there he was, returning earlier than expected after a long but successful mission in LA, driving through the rain with some old John Denver song on the radio. Gibbs wasn’t a music in the car kinda guy, but it didn’t take all his detective skills to realise he missed having sounds around him. Specifically the sound of a warm Scottish accented voice that sounded like old shoes feel, even when it was yelling at him for not taking ‘the other left’.
He found the number easily, knew it as well as his name, rank, and serial number. Though unlike those he’d never give them up on duress, wouldn’t put Ducky in harms way.
Only if he was being honest with himself, and tried to because he wasn’t entirely with anyone else, Jethro did all the time. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. All this messing about with women, going off on assignments with no backward glance, surely that was a crueller fate.
The phone rang over and over, he could picture the scene exactly as the sound echoed through the near empty house. Duck always swore it got colder and bigger when Jethro was away. Then the answer machine kicked in …
Hello, you have reached Doctor Mallard.
If you are enquiring about the Morgan, it is no longer for sale due to a change of circumstances. Any efforts to make me buy something over the telephone will not work. However, if it is anyone else; please wait for the tone, you know what to do.
Oh and Jethro, I miss you.
He knew it, sure as anything what he would say. What he should have said all those years ago.
~ooOoo~
After a long relaxing bath, or it would have been if that blasted phone hadn’t gone off (honestly did people have no courtesy?) Ducky Mallard wrapped himself in his particular favourite white towelen robe and ambled downstairs. He half expected to be tripped up by one of the corgis on his way down; momentarily forgetting that the corgis had passed some time ago, one by one, as if they understood and on some metaphysical level could no longer live without being doted on by his mother.
Realising he was rather peckish Ducky contemplated making himself a light supper, cheese and biscuits with a nice glass of port would be delightful. Yes, he’d get right to it once he’d checked who had called.
It took barely more than a pause for breathe for Ducky to identify the voice. A sound that had always cut straight to the core of him and then radiated out heat and pleasure. Which could by turns be the most blissful and wretched feeling in the world.
This is Jethro Gibbs’ phone.
If you’re asking ‘bout my heart, it’s been taken off the market due to circumstances that it’s been too damn stupid to notice for twenty five years.
Ducky heard the crunch of gravel on the drive way, a car engine stopping and the metal ticking as it cooled down …
So any attempts to make me love anyone else aint gonna work.
Foot steps approaching, he really ought to answer the door, but Ducky couldn’t tear himself away.
So, if you’re Doctor Donald Mallard. Then you damn well better say what I think you’re gonna say once I finished talking. Because like it or not you’re stuck with me loving you for the rest of my life.
“And by the way,” the voice was closer now, and Ducky pivoted towards as fast as he could with his bad leg, like a month to a flame. “That isn’t an answer machine message any more. There’s something that just have to be said in person.”
Jethro smiled at him, the smile only Ducky got to see, one that seemed to hold all the light and warmth of the sun.
He closed the gap between them, put his mouth against Ducky’s, and didn’t let up until Ducky had to break away because otherwise he was sure that he would melt into the floorboards.
“I’ve missed you too, Duck. More than I could ever say, even if that time. So how about I don’t go away again …”
“But you can’t promise that, after all with your job.”
“I’m not talking about that.”
“Oh.” Ducky’s eye widened in realisation. “Oh.”
“Yeah, Duck.”
“In which case, on the off chance it requires reiterating; I love you too, my dear Jethro.”