Ashleigh Anpilova


Gibbs is like ‘basic black'; he goes with everything.


An established relationship story.

Written: October 2007. Word count: 1,282.



"Do come in and sit down, Mr. Gibbs."


"Thanks." Gibbs looked around him at the clean, albeit cluttered room. No one would believe what went on there.


An open file, filled with papers was visible. His companion, female, looked at him. "You will be pleased to hear that all your tests are fine, more than fine, actually. Indeed you are a very – Er, that is to say. You have been successful."


"Um, thanks." Now that it came to it, Gibbs wasn't sure if he was pleased.


"Now I shall be organizing your schedule for you. I see that it's going to be quite a rigorous one, as we have already received a high number of requests for you, far more than is usually the case prior to feedback. However, I'm sure, based on your results, that you will be more than up to the task." She smiled at him.


"Thanks," Gibbs said again. Once more wondering if he was actually pleased with the news.


"In fact, one person has already signed up for the deluxe service." She indicated a pale blue piece of paper. "Now that really is a first. Normally clients wait to see if they are happy with the service provided before they spend this amount of money. Really, Mr. Gibbs, I can only presume that your reputation precedes you." Her voice contained a hint of awe, and the look she gave Gibbs made him groan silently. The only good thing was, he had a strong idea, a very strong idea indeed, who the 'client' was; at least he hoped he was right.


He noticed she was still looking at him, and managed to flash her a smile.


"Now, have you any preference as to the order in which you wish to proceed?"


Had he? Not really. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Surely there had to be a better way than this? He shook his head. "Nah, leave that to you."


"In that case, I think we'll ‘mix and match', so to speak. After all they say a change is as good as a rest, and believe me, you are going to need a rest. As I am sure you are aware, we do guarantee that everyone is shall we say serviced at least once a week. This means in order to fulfill your requirements, you will have to manage three each night."


He blinked. Three a night! He wasn't that good! Was he? "Oh, right," he said, a little weakly.


"Perhaps you had better write your schedule down. We pride ourselves on our representatives not making any mistakes. And as there are so many . . ." She trailed off.


Gibbs pulled out his notebook and pencil. "Okay."


"Now then. Monday. Let me see. Ah, yes, let us go for: Dr. Donald Mallard, Ms. Abigail Sciuto and Mr. Tobias Fornell."


"Monday: Duck, Abbs, Tobias. Got that." That wasn't a bad start; not bad at all. Could have been far worse. If he had to do this, they would have been his top three. Providing, of course, he could put his 'father's love' for Abbs to one side, that was. Clearly she could. But could he? Guess he had to.


"Tuesday I think it will be: Ms. Ziva David, Mr. Timothy McGee and Ms. Caitlin Todd."


"Tuesday: Ziva, McGee, Kate. Okay."  An interesting mix and bearable. Mind you, he'd make sure Ziva showed him all of her weapons beforehand.


"On Wednesday it will be: Mr. Thomas Morrow, Ms. Michelle Lee and Mr. Jimmy Palmer."


"Wednesday: Tom Morrow, Lee and Palmer." Now Palmer was a surprise; he's have thought the young man was too scared of him. And it'd be good to see his old boss again, albeit the circumstances were a bit weird.


"On Thursday it will be: Ms. Hollis Mann, Mr. Anthony DiNozzo and Ms. Jennifer Shepard."


"Thursday: Holl, DiNozzo, Jenn." He groaned silently as he wrote the details down. Why was he doing this? Why the hell was he doing this? Maybe he should have arranged his own schedule; Thursday was not going to be a good night. Jenn and Holl on the same night! He really wasn't sure he could do that. He just hoped they'd be kept apart.


"On Friday I think we'll go for: Mr. Gerald Jackson, Ms. Faith Coleman and Mr. Michael Franks."


"Friday: Gerald, Faith, Mike." Now he'd have sworn Faith was too uptight for 'that kind of thing'. And Mike? Well, he was a dark horse!


"Saturday it will be: Ms. Paula Cassidy, Mr. Stanley Burley, Ms. Cassidy Yates"


"Saturday: Paula, Stan, Cassie." Ah, the 'old guard'. Maybe they could talk about 'old times' instead. Talking would be good; talking would be very good.


"And finally on Sunday: Ms. Nikki Jardine, Mr. Charles Stirling and Ms. Cynthia Summers."


"Jardine, Chip, Cynthia." Jardine? But she didn't even like shaking hands with other people. How on earth was she going to cope with . . . As for Cynthia, he wondered if Jenn knew.


"As I said, Mr. Gibbs, it is a very extensive schedule indeed. I do hope that you will not let us down. I cannot stress highly enough how much we pride ourselves on our reputation for providing a first class service to our clients; for giving them what they require. Whatever they require. Do you really believe you can manage it?"


Gibbs shrugged. If he was honest, he wasn't. Well, it was as much that he suddenly didn't want to manage it, as anything else. But he was committed; he'd signed the papers, he'd agreed. There was no backing out, at least not until after the first lot of assignments. "Sure," he said, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.


She smiled. "Good. In that case, I think the only part of the agreement left is for me to test the merchandise."


Gibbs stood up suddenly. "What?"


"Did you not read the small print, Mr. Gibbs?"


Damn it; he'd tried. But he'd forgotten his glasses. He swallowed.


She looked at him. "After all, I could say that I have a claim on you already. I am the one who has spent a considerable time having to watch you ‘cheat' on me. Having to watch you caress others when you should have been caressing me. I think it is only fair that you give me something back."


He backed away. "But that's not possible," he spluttered. "You're my boat!" He backed away further as she reared up and landed on him. As she covered him, Gibbs cried out.


"Jethro, Jethro my dear. Do wake up."

"Duck?" Gibbs opened his eyes and clutched Ducky's hand.


"Yes, dearest. It is I. You fell asleep under your boat again," Ducky chided softly, as he patted Gibbs hand.


Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. So it had just been a dream! "Sorry, Duck," he murmured, letting Ducky help him down off the bench. "I'll come up to bed now."


Ducky smiled happily and led the way out of the basement and up the stairs.


Once they reached the second floor, Gibbs left Ducky in order to pay a brief visit to the bathroom.


When he went back into their bedroom, he caught sight of Ducky hastily pushing a piece of paper, a pale blue piece of paper, a pale blue piece of paper that looked oddly and worryingly familiar, into a drawer.


"Duck?" He moved towards Ducky.


"My dear?" Ducky looked up at him.


"What's that?"


"That? Oh, nothing, dearest. Nothing at all. At least nothing that you need to worry about. Now, why do you not come here? I do believe it is time that you se- kissed me."



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