BLAME IT ON THE WHISKEY
By
Ashleigh Anpilova
Gibbs and Fornell drink far too much whiskey.
A first time story.
Written: September 2012. Word count: 1,032.
Gibbs opened his eyes, winced as the sunlight hit them and closed them again as he groaned softly. How much had he drunk the night before? And more importantly why had it affected him so much?
He turned on his side so that his back was to the window and brushed against another body; a naked body; a male naked body.. A feeling of doom began to creep through his body as he moved back a little so that he was no longer touching the other body that was in his bed with him.
Telling himself he was a Federal Agent; a Marine; a full grown adult in his fifties; that he was used to staring down the bad guy with the gun or the knife; that he knew no fear, he slowly forced his eyelids apart and stared at the body lying next to him.
"Shit," he murmured softly. Now he sat up, slowly and taking care not to wake the sleeping man - assuming Fornell was asleep and not unconscious from all the whiskey they'd put away the previous evening.
Still moving slowly and telling himself that he didn't feel sick, that his head didn't feel like someone was inside it hitting him with a stick, he slid out of bed and pulled on the shorts he'd taken off last night - at least he thought he'd taken them off, but maybe he hadn't.
Leaving Fornell still sleeping he left the bedroom, went into the bathroom, spent a couple of minutes relieving himself before he splashed cold water on his face, brushed his teeth and turned on the shower, he ducked his head under the cold water for a few seconds before he turned the shower off. He had no desire to wake Fornell up any sooner than he had to.
Pulling on the robe he kept in the bathroom he went downstairs and into the kitchen, swallowed four Aspirin with a slug of cold coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, put his head in his hands and deliberately tired to remember the night before.
"To Diane," he said, gulping down the whiskey Fornell had poured into a glass in one swallow.
"Diane," Fornell repeated, a little more softly than Gibbs. His tone wasn't only softer, to Gibbs's ear it sounded more than a little morose.
He glared at his friend. "You don't still love her, do you, Tobias?"
Fornell stared at him and poured another large amount of whiskey into each glass. "Hell, no!" he said, draining his glass and refilling it. "Have you got any more?" he asked as he poured the last dregs into his glass. Gibbs nodded in the direction of the cupboard and Fornell, swaying only slightly, got up and grabbed another bottle, opening it and pouring more whiskey into Gibbs's glass and then into his own. "It's just that she did give me Emily."
Gibbs sighed and touched Fornell's hand. "Guess everyone is capable of doing one good thing," he said, draining his glass and refilling it, adding more to Fornell's nearly empty glass.
Fornell stared at him for a moment before he said, "Did you ever love her, Jethro? I mean really love her?"
Gibbs paused with his glass halfway to his mouth and then shrugged. "No," he said simply and with an honesty he'd never admitted to before. Fornell just stared back at him. Gibbs shrugged again, "Always said the second B's for bastard," he said.
Fornell emptied his glass and refilled both it and Gibbs's. "She never really loved me, you know, Jethro," he said. "She only married me to get back at you. I should have listened to you when you tried to warn me."
Gibbs shrugged again. "Hindsight's a wonderful thing, Tobias," he said.
They sat in silence for a minute or two just staring at one another and drinking. They both reached for the whiskey bottle at the same time and their fingers brushed against one another's. Gibbs didn't know who moved first, all he knew was that one minute their fingers were touching, the next their hands were entwined, the next they were on their feet and his mouth was on Fornell's and Fornell's body was pressed against his.
One kiss turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into four, which turned into more than Gibbs could count until finally Gibbs dragged Fornell up the stairs and into his bedroom where they kissed again before tearing off their clothes, falling onto the bed and -
Given the amount of whiskey they'd both drunk what happened next shouldn't have been possible, but it had been.
Gibbs groaned softly as his mind replayed the entire scene in glorious Technicolor and full surround sound. "Shit," he said again softly, getting up from the table and automatically beginning to make coffee as he thought about what had happened the previous evening and what he was going to say to Fornell and what it meant for their friendship.
He glanced upwards as he heard noises coming first from the bedroom and then from the bathroom.
He was sitting once again at the table when Fornell carrying his jacket with his tie sticking out of the pocket but otherwise fully dressed came into the kitchen. He stared at Gibbs, put his jacket on the back of a chair, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. "Morning, Jethro," he said his voice slightly croaky as he sat down at the table opposite Gibbs and stared at him, never once dropping his gaze.
Gibbs nodded. "Morning, Tobias," he said.
They sat in silence just staring at one another as they drank their coffee.
Finally they said simultaneously, "About last night -" Both of them fell silent and Fornell waved his hand indicating Gibbs should speak first.
Gibbs swallowed hard, put his mug down, leaned forward a little, licked his lips and said his voice a little hoarse, "You want to do it again sometime? Without the whiskey," he added.
Fornell swallowed hard, put his mug down, leaned forward a little, licked his lips and said his voice a little hoarse, "I thought you'd never ask."
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