CAN DREAMS COME TRUE?
By
Ashleigh Anpilova
Ducky meets Gibbs for the first time, and that meeting shapes their entire lives. Or does it?
A first time story.
Written: June 2007. Word count: 1,874.
VIRGINIA, USA. 1975
"Here, let me help you."
"Oh, thank you very much. I do appreciate it. I was foolishly trying to carry far too much." Ducky looked up from where he'd been trying to gather his papers, books and slides together. He found himself gazing into a pair of intense dark blue eyes that crinkled at the corners.
The man who was squatting down next to him, helping him collected the fallen items, also glanced up and smiled. He was younger than Ducky, between ten and fifteen years, Ducky would have guessed. As well as the stunning, hypnotic, tantalizing eyes, he had a weather-tanned face and the kind of smile that Ducky knew didn't come all that often. His hair, as well as his uniform, betrayed what he was: a Marine; possibly even one of the ones to whom Ducky was about to give a lecture. Even with them both at ground level, it was clear that the young man was several inches taller than Ducky, and he looked very fit.
Suddenly Ducky realized he was staring at the other man. "Thank you," he said hastily, in an attempt to cover it up. He reached out to take the papers and books, and as his hand brushed the other man's a, what felt like, electrical current raced through his body. It took Ducky all his time to prevent himself from gasping aloud. He tried to cover up his reaction by reaching for the papers and other material the man had collected.
However, the other man didn't let go of the pile he held, instead he stood up, the movement fluid and trouble free, shifted the items into one hand and held out the other to Ducky. "You must be the British doctor who's come to give us a lecture," he said, still holding out his hand. "I'm going the same way as you. I'll carry these things for you. Don't want you dropping them again, do we."
"Thank you, if you're certain. That would be very kind of you." Knowing that he had no choice, unless he wanted to offend the man who was offering him aid, Ducky took the proffered hand and allowed his helper to pull him to his feet. "I am indeed the British doctor. Donald Mallard, to be precise, but everyone calls me Ducky."
The same electrical charge that had plunged through him when their hands had brushed moments earlier, still twanged and charged around his body; it was almost making him giddy. He could feel that his heart rate had increased and, as he tried to order his body and mind to obey him, he cursed himself for the reaction. Don't be stupid, he silently ordered. He's a Marine.
"Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but no one calls me Leroy. Not even my mom." He smiled again, shifted the papers from his right hand and held it out instead.
Automatically, Ducky took and shook it. "I'm pleased to meet you, Sergeant Gibbs."
"Just Gibbs'll do, or Jethro if you'd rather. If you come with me, Dr. Mallard, I'll show you where to go."
"Thank you." Ducky shifted his own bundle into a more secure position and smiled up at Jethro. "And please call me Ducky, if you are allowed to, that is," he added quickly.
"Thought you Brits stood on formality," Jethro said, as he quickly regulated his long stride to take into account Ducky's shorter one.
"Some of us do, far too many for my liking. There is a time and a place for formality, and whilst I do believe that on occasions people are far too informal, nonetheless - Oh, forgive me," he said quickly. "I do have a rather bad habit of rambling on."
Jethro glanced down at him. "Hadn't noticed," he said. And with surprise, Ducky realized that the words were genuine.
VIRGINIA, USA. 1977
"Jethro, what are you -" Jethro's mouth, warm, soft, teasing, caressing, gentle, demanding, sure, meeting his silenced him. For a moment he hesitated and tried to struggle, but then the tip of Jethro's tongue touched his lips, flickering over them. In response to the gentle but clear demand, he parted his lips and began to return the kiss. As he did, he pressed himself against the firm, tall body that pulled him even closer, and matched the fierce embrace.
Jethro's arousal was clear, as he pressed against Ducky, moving slightly, brushing Ducky's own growing arousal, teasing it, enticing it, inviting it. "Take me to bed, Duck," he whispered, when finally he broke the kiss. "Take me to bed and make love to me. Please." It was the final word that broke and buried any remaining hesitations Ducky may have had.
He took Jethro by the hand and led him upstairs and into his bedroom, where he began to undress him. As he stripped away the clothing, he let his fingers roam, as they had wanted to do from the second he'd met the young, somewhat cocky Marine, over Jethro's tanned, naked, heated, desirable skin.
Under his touch Jethro shivered, not because he was cold, Ducky knew that, but from what Ducky was doing to him. "Want you, Duck," he murmured, tugging Ducky back against him and once more finding his mouth.
When they broke the kiss this time, it was Jethro who began to undress Ducky, stroking and touching him as he did so. As callused fingertips began to caress Ducky's body, Ducky shuddered with the same delight as Jethro had done earlier. "Oh, Jethro," he murmured. And then cried out the same words as Jethro's hand encircled his heated erection and he climaxed.
Jethro steadied him and guided him down onto the bed. "You really wanted me that badly?" he murmured, after several moments of simply holding Ducky, lightly stroking and kissing him. His tone was one of wonder. "Always thought you did. Just never knew how much. Ah, Duck, why didn't you say anything?"
"Why do you think?" Ducky managed, arching his back as the caresses became more intimate and more knowledgeable.
"Sorry. Guess it was a stupid question. Got tired of waiting for you to make the move though. Thought I would."
Ducky blinked as he registered his lover's, the term felt so good, words. "How long?" he managed.
Jethro, still touching him, shrugged. "Wanted to fuck you from the moment I met you. But -" Quickly he silenced Ducky again. "But," he repeated. "Knew you weren't the type of man who you just fucked on a one-night stand. You're not, are you?"
Ducky shook his head. "No, at least not usually."
"Not ever. Don't change, Duck. Ever. Okay?" Jethro frowned down at him.
Ducky smiled softly. "Very well," he promised. "I shall endeavor not to."
"Hmm. Guess I'll have to just stay around and make sure you don't."
"Jeth -" Once again Jethro silenced him.
"So," Jethro went on, as if they hadn't paused for the delicious, extremely long-lasting kiss. "I decided that if I wanted you, and I did, I had to get to know you. So I did. Been courting you, to you one of your own terms, for two years now. Didn't you notice?"
Ducky shook his head. "No, I don't believe, I . . . I didn't allow myself to see you, to see our friendship as anything other than that, friendship. I knew that you . . . Well, at least I believed that you -"
"Weren't gay? I'm not. But I am bi. Not that I've been with a guy before. Unless you count a mutual jerk off session with Ben Bentley when I was fourteen. But I've always known that I could go for guys. Well, for one, at least. God, you're beautiful," he added, and once again kissed Ducky.
For the next four hours they made love to one another, learning about the other's body. Touching, kissing, licking, stroking, idly chatting, falling more and more deeply in love - at least Ducky did - before they fell asleep.
When Jethro, with clear and obvious reluctance, left him the next morning, it was with the growled promise 'this wasn't a one-time deal, Duck' and a kiss that Ducky tasted and remembered for the entire day. Alone in his house, that now felt far too large, far too empty and far too cold, Ducky realized that not once, during the entire time they'd been together had Jethro 'fucked' him, nor had he hinted that he wanted to do so.
RESTON, USA. 2015
"Hey, Duck. Penny for them." Jethro came into their sitting room, perched on the arm of Ducky's chair and kissed Ducky's head.
Ducky gazed up at his lover and smiled. "I was just remembering the day we met, my dear."
"Best day of my life, that was." Jethro kissed him again. "Took me a hell of time to realize it, but it was."
"Ah, Jethro," Ducky said, swallowing hard around the lump that had formed in his throat.
"Come on," Jethro held out his hand."
"My dear?"
"Don't want you sitting over here all alone, come and sit next to me." And with that Jethro carefully helped Ducky to his feet, wrapped his arm around him and led him over to the sofa. He hovered over Ducky until he had sat down and settled. Once he was happy that Ducky was comfortable, he crossed to their drinks' cabinet, snagged a bottle of Mortlach and brought it and two glasses back to where Ducky sat watching him.
"To the next forty years," Jethro said, holding up his glass.
Ducky just smiled and touched his glass to that of his lover's; he then sipped the amber liquid. One sip was all Jethro allowed him, before he took the glass from Ducky's hand, put it down on the coffee table and gathered Ducky into his arms, finding his mouth with the accuracy he'd always managed, even from their very first kiss.
Two hours later, Ducky sighed with contentment and noted, not for the first time, that their choice of sofa had been a very suitable one indeed.
VIRGINIA, USA. 1975
Ducky opened his eyes and sat up, shaking his head and looking around him.
After a moment or two of blinking in order to focus on the empty room, he glanced at his watch, and breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't be late, after all. And he had time for a shower before he left for the Marine base to deliver his lecture.
As he showered and dressed and gathered his papers, books and slides together, he tried hard not to think about the man he'd seen in his dream.
The man who had loved him.
The man whom he had loved.
The man who had shown him what true and lasting love was about.
The man with whom he had grown old.
The man whom he would never, could never, meet.
"Here, let me help you."
"Oh, thank you very much. I do appreciate it. I was foolishly trying to carry far too much." Ducky looked up from where he'd been trying to gather his papers, books and slides together. He found himself gazing into a pair of intense dark blue eyes that crinkled at the corners.
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