Chapter Text
Unlikely associations
by Ceindreadh
“Run this sample up to Abby, Mr. Palmer,” said Ducky. “Hopefully she’ll be able to get a DNA match.”
“And then we’ll be able to catch the killer, Doctor Mallard,” said Jimmy, adding his signature to the chain of custody label. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He turned to head for the door, only to almost bump into Gibbs who had entered unobserved. “Agent Gibbs! I was just, that is, Doctor Mallard and I, we um...I have to go now...” He darted around Gibbs and beat a hasty retreat towards the elevator.
Ducky sighed as he watched Jimmy leave. “I really wish you wouldn’t sneak up on Mr. Palmer like that. It’s very...intimidating of you. Honestly, sometimes after you’ve shown up, he’s all thumbs and I find it very hard to get a good days work out of him.”
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Jimmy balanced his medical textbooks under one arm as he locked the car door. Turning around, he almost dropped the books as he saw Gibbs standing in front of him.
“Apparently Doctor Mallard thinks that I’m ‘intimidating’ you,” said Gibbs.
“I...I can see how he might make that diagnosis,” said Jimmy. He could feel his heart pounding as Gibbs took a step closer. “All the symptoms would fit...increased respiration, flushed skin...shaking hands.” Gibbs was so close now that Jimmy could smell a faint trace of gunpowder and sawdust on him. “Of course, there are...other symptoms...less obvious ones.”
“And what might those be?” asked Gibbs, his breath ghosting softly against Jimmy’s face. .
“A dry mouth, light headedness...all common symptoms which would have enabled Doctor Mallard to make a differential diagnosis of a mild panic attack. Especially given the presence of a potential trigger. Of course, there was one symptom which if he had noticed, might have brought him to a different conclusion...”
“And what symptom might that have been, Palmer?”
“The same one you’re displaying right now, Gibbs.” Jimmy reached out and caressed Gibbs’s crotch, reveling in the sensation of Gibbs’s hardness beneath his hand. A second later, Gibbs’s hand was on the back of Jimmy’s head, pulling him in for a hard bruising kiss that made Jimmy’s knees go weak. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Gibbs pulled away.
“Too many eyes out here. Inside, now,” growled Gibbs in that voice that made Jimmy’s heart pound just a little faster every time he heard it.
“Now,” agreed Jimmy. He picked up his books which – not for the first time when Gibbs was around – had fallen unheeded to the ground.
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The books were long forgotten as Jimmy lay sprawled on the bed, listening to the water running in the bathroom. Hearing the shower shut off, he summoned up the energy to roll over and face the door, not wanting to miss a second of the sight of Gibbs, fresh from his ablutions. Jimmy wasn’t disappointed when minutes later, Gibbs, wearing just a towel, returned to the room.
“You’re awake,” said Gibbs, moving over to the bed and dropping a kiss on Jimmy’s lips. “Thought I’d tired you out.” It was a source of pride to him that he was able to match the younger man move for move in the bedroom. Probably not the sort of strenuous activity his Marine Corps Sergeant had in mind all those years ago when he’d bellowed “You’ll thank me for it later” as he’d run the new recruits ragged. But the lessons learned in his youth had stayed with Gibbs, and in bed with Jimmy, he was never more glad that he’d kept up his personal fitness regime.
“You did,” said Jimmy as he stretched his limbs on the bed. “I could stay here for hours!”
The sight of Jimmy lying there, his body an open invitation, made Gibbs’s cock twitch under the towel, and he had to force himself not to RSVP immediately. “Your place, your choice.” Turning around, he deliberately let the towel drop as he bent over to pick up his clothes. “Me, I’ll be in the kitchen. You want something to eat, better join me.” He heard a rustling noise behind him, and seconds later a pair of arms were wrapped around him. Gibbs smiled as he leaned back into Jimmy’s embrace.
“You mean you’re not going to serve me dinner in bed?” said Jimmy, resting his chin on Gibbs’s shoulder. “Or maybe there’s something else you’d rather I ‘eat’.”
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Things hadn’t always been so relaxed between the two of them.
Gibbs and Jimmy had settled into a sort of routine on the nights when neither of them were busy with cases or lectures. Gibbs would show up at Jimmy’s apartment, they’d have sex; Gibbs would shower and then leave. It worked well for both of them, taking the benefits without any attempts at friendship.
The first time had been the night after Jimmy had plowed his car into Suskavcevic’s van. After the processing and paperwork had been completed, Gibbs had wandered down to Autopsy to see how Palmer was doing. He’d expected to find him being lectured to by Ducky on the foolishness of attending a crime scene when specifically instructed not to do so. Not to mention the added inadvisability of using one’s own car to prevent a suspect fleeing said scene. Gibbs figured that he’d let Ducky do the heavy lifting with regard to reprimanding his assistant. Maybe Ducky would finally start dishing out a head slap or two. But when Gibbs got to Autopsy, Ducky had already left for the night.
“Doctor Mallard got a call from his mother’s nurse,” Jimmy had told him. “I believe he said she was accusing her of being a Russian spy.” He’d hesitated briefly, “The nurse was the spy, not Mrs. Mallard, that is, she’s not a spy, but Mrs. Mallard thinks she is and keeps trying to speak Russian to her and…”
Gibbs was the first to admit that he wasn’t always that good at reading people who weren’t suspects. If he didn’t, then DiNozzo would have been the first to point it out, closely followed by Ducky or Abby. But he could tell that this wasn’t Palmer’s usual inane babbling that could be tuned out without any repercussions. So Gibbs had driven him back to his apartment, grumbling something about how Ducky would have his hide if he’d let ‘Mr. Palmer’ make his own way home. And of course he’d made sure the kid got to his door safely, and when Palmer offered him coffee, promising to put half the jar in the cup if necessary, Gibbs had seen the gesture for what it was, a need to talk to somebody about the adrenalin rush he’d had that day. As it turned out, talking wasn’t on the agenda, and neither was the coffee. It wasn’t surprising, Gibbs had told him later that night. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days, Palmer. The shooting, then today at the trailer park. That’s twice in two days you could have been killed or seriously injured. Now you’re coming down from the adrenalin rush and feel the need to prove to yourself that you’re still alive. Sex gives as good a buzz as any drug.”
Jimmy had propped himself up on one elbow, looking at Gibbs incredulously, “I thought *I* was the one supposed to be the med student, with all the insights into psychology!”
Gibbs had shrugged as he picked up his clothes. “I’ve been hanging round Ducky a lot longer than you have. You pick up some things.” His voice was muffled by his shirt as he pulled it over his head, “Especially when he points them out to you on a regular basis.” Fully dressed now, he sat down on the bed facing Jimmy. “I know you probably think it’s all over now and everything will go back to normal. And I hope for your sake that that’s true. But you need any sort of help getting through this; you talk to somebody, somebody you can trust. Ducky will be able to recommend a counselor if you don’t want to talk to him.”
“And what if I don’t want to ‘talk’?” Jimmy reached out and caressed Gibbs’s thigh.
Gibbs carefully removed his hand, squeezing it briefly before standing up. “Then you ‘talk’ to me.”
The second time had been the night after Suskavcevic’s preliminary hearing. The D.A.’s office had insisted on calling upon Jimmy to testify, wanting to pin an attempted murder charge on Suskavcevic as well as all the other crimes. Afterwards, Gibbs had again taken Jimmy home, and this time he was the one who’d made the first move. It hadn’t been entirely altruistic on his part, the memory of the previous occasion, Palmer’s firm young body writhing beneath him, the amazing things he had done with his tongue, Gibbs would have been lying to himself if he’d claimed he hadn’t wanted to revisit the experience. And while this time had turned out to be less of an adrenalin rush than the first time, both of them felt the better for it.
And so it had continued for a while. Neither of them had expected anything more than sex, that is, neither of them had admitted to wanting anything more than sex. At work, nothing changed. Gibbs still pretty much ignored Jimmy unless he got in his way at a crime scene or made random observations while Gibbs was discussing cases with Ducky. Jimmy still stumbled over his words and sometimes his feet when in the same room as Gibbs. The days were the same as they had always been, but the nights…those were turning out to be most memorable.
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The night things changed, Jimmy glanced up as he heard Gibbs come back into the bedroom after his shower. “Hey,” he said, as Gibbs started to pull on his clothing. “I was thinking…that is, if you weren’t in a rush…” he bit his lip, trying to think of the right words. He’d been trying various phrases, running through all the potential sentences in his mind as he waited for Gibbs to come back. “I thought that maybe we could have something to eat…” His voice trailed off as he saw Gibbs look at him. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy gathered his thoughts and continued, “It’s just that you’re going to go home and eat, and I’m going to fix dinner and eat, and we could maybe have dinner together…” The last few words came out in a rush, as if eager to escape before Jimmy could change his mind. He wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, after all, it wasn’t like he and Gibbs had much to say to each other. But there were nights, after Gibbs had left, when Jimmy’s apartment just seemed so big…and empty…and silent. Not that Gibbs’s presence was a guarantee of conversation, thought Jimmy.
“You want to have dinner…with me…” Gibbs’s voice was carefully neutral.
“I was going to fix myself something anyway,” said Jimmy. “It’d be no trouble to make enough for two.”
Gibbs looked at Jimmy for what seemed like an eternity to the younger man. Finally he shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.”
Jimmy’s face lit up as he smiled involuntarily. “Great! I…I’ll just have a quick shower. You make yourself comfortable; I’ll just be a few minutes.”
True to his word, a few minutes later Jimmy was showered and clean and toweling himself dry vigorously. It wasn’t until he started to pull on his jeans that he stopped in his tracks thinking “What on earth am I going to cook?”
Gibbs, meanwhile, had taken the time to wander around Jimmy’s tiny kitchen. A part of him was wondering just why the hell he’d said yes to Jimmy’s invitation. Things had been going just fine, thought Gibbs. Jimmy, while inexperienced at first, had proved to be an able and willing student of everything Gibbs could teach him in the bedroom. And outside of the bedroom, well, there wasn’t really any ‘outside’. They had sex and then went their separate ways, and that was working out just fine. There was no need to change anything. But Jimmy had seemed so eager, and in all honesty, Gibbs didn’t really have anything to rush home for. So he’d said yes, and seen how Jimmy’s face had lit up, and Gibbs couldn’t really remember the last time somebody had been *that* pleased by the prospect of his company. Gibbs automatically started opening cupboards as he waited for Jimmy to join him. Not that he was being nosy or suspicious or anything, but not having any prior experience of Palmer’s culinary abilities, he was idly curious as to what might be on the menu.
“See anything you like?” Gibbs turned around, a snappy retort on his lips, which died unspoken as he saw Jimmy in the doorway toweling his hair dry. He was wearing a t-shirt that rode up with every movement of his arms, and a pair of faded jeans that clung in all the right places.
“You could say that, yes,” Gibbs finally managed to get his voice under control. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before. Maybe I should speak to Ducky about relaxing his dress code a bit.” He watched with some small amusement as Jimmy blushed furiously.
“I should get dinner started,” said Jimmy, quickly.
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The first meal was not exactly a great success. Whether it was the distracting effect of having Gibbs watching his every move or just Jimmy’s general lack of culinary experience, but eggs ended up on counter tops instead of in mixing bowls, saucepans boiled dry, knives drew blood while chopping, and when finally they ended up having grilled cheese on toast, Jimmy even burned his hand on the grill while melting the cheese.
Food wise, things could have gone better…but in terms of enjoyment, Gibbs couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a pleasant meal. He’d helped with the clearing up before leaving, assuring Jimmy that the next time things would go a lot more smoothly. “You mean you’ll let me cook for you again?” Jimmy had asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t say that,” Gibbs had grunted, “But I might teach you *how* to cook without killing yourself!”
Gibbs had kept to his word over the following months. While not every rendezvous at Jimmy’s apartment resulted in dinner, Gibbs still found himself spending more and more down time with the younger man. He didn’t always show up empty handed either. Most of the time it was just provisions for whatever meal they planned to have that night. Gibbs even brought his own special batch of coffee, and one of the first ‘cooking’ lessons was how to make it just the way he liked it. Other times it was more practical things, like a washer and tools to fix a leaky faucet in the bathroom. And once, Gibbs had even given Jimmy a belt buckle knife of his very own. “Steak tastes better when it’s cut with a real knife,” he had said, offhandedly as he’d given it to Jimmy. “Just don’t cut any of your fingers off with it, or Ducky will use it to give me an in depth lesson in anatomy!”
It had just been a shame that that night’s steak had gotten somewhat overcooked while Jimmy showed Gibbs just how appreciative he was of his gift. But it had led to the creation of ‘Gibbs’s cooking rule 1’, namely no distractions while the meal was being prepared. Afterwards of course, distractions were certainly allowed.
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Gibbs smiled as he leaned back into Jimmy’s embrace.
“You mean you’re not going to serve me dinner in bed?” said Jimmy, resting his chin on Gibbs’s shoulder. “Or maybe there’s something else you’d rather I ‘eat’.”
“Eating meals in bed just means crumbs in the bedclothes,” said Gibbs. “And as for the other…” In a quick movement Gibbs turned in Jimmy’s arms until he was able to kiss him on the lips. “Have to have your dinner before you get dessert!”
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Dinner with Gibbs was usually a quiet event. Never one for conversation at the best of times, Gibbs was even more taciturn when it came to mealtimes, preferring to focus on one thing at a time. Which was why it was during the clearing up stage that Jimmy broached a subject which had been on his mind for a considerable period of time.
“What Doctor Mallard said,” Jimmy started hesitantly. “About you intimidating me.”
“What about it?” Gibbs took the wet plate from Jimmy’s hands and started drying it. “He’s just looking out for you.”
“I know that. It’s just that I don’t like the thought of him being worried, unnecessarily worried about me.” Jimmy scrubbed determinedly at another plate, not wanting to look Gibbs in the eye. “And I thought that maybe we could put his mind at ease…tell him about…us…”
“Jimmy,” Gibbs sighed, “I thought we decided that it’s nobody else’s business what we do in our spare time.”
“No,” Jimmy let the plate slide back into the water and turned to face Gibbs. “You were the one who said that things weren’t going to be any different between us at N.C.I.S. just because we were having sex. And I went along with it because I thought; well I thought that sex was all it was. And I didn’t mind, honestly. But that…that was before all this…” He gestured around him, nearly splashing water on Gibbs. “And I hate the thought of lying to him every time he enquires into my plans for when I’m not at work. I...I’m not saying I want to change my faceb…put a notice on the bulletin board. But at least we could let Ducky know what’s going on.”
“The best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself,” said Gibbs almost automatically. “Second best is to tell…”
“One other person,” interrupted Jimmy, “There is no third best. Does that mean I’m just your dirty little secret?” Jimmy pulled off his rubber gloves and threw them beside the sink. He felt Gibbs move behind him, his strong arms wrapping around and holding him close.
“That is *not* what you are, what we are.”
“So what are we then?” asked Jimmy, tiredly.
“I don’t know, friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?” Gibbs rested his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I *do* know that these evenings with you…I enjoy them a hell of a lot more than I could have imagined six months ago. But I also know that having other people breathing down your neck is the best way to spoil something. You really want people to be talking about you behind your back? Stopping their conversations when you walk past in case something gets back to me?”
“I wouldn’t…” Jimmy was silenced by a kiss on his cheek.
“I know that you’re the soul of discretion,” said Gibbs. “Ducky wouldn’t have you on his team if you weren’t. He trusts you and I do too.”
“You do?” Jimmy turned around until he could look Gibbs in the eye.
“Of course I do.” Gibbs seemed genuinely surprised that Jimmy could have any doubt. “Wouldn’t let you near my firearms of course, not unless you were field certified.”
It was Jimmy’s turn to silence Gibbs with a kiss, “I’m being an idiot,” he said, finally.
“No, you’re not,” said Gibbs. “You got something to say about us, about anything, you speak your mind. If I can’t deal with your opinion, well that’s my problem. Look, if it means that much to you, I’ll have a quiet word with Ducky. Set him straight on what’s going on. Course he’ll probably want to know what my intentions are, make sure I’m not gonna besmirch your honor or anything.”
“And what will you tell him?”
“That I intend to besmirch your honor on a regular basis for the foreseeable future. Gibbs kissed Jimmy full on the lips so hard that it almost took his breath away.
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Later, after dessert, and indeed after ‘dessert’, Jimmy lay sprawled on the bed, head pillowed on Gibbs’s chest. “You don’t have to say anything to Doctor Mallard,” he said, finally. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I said I would,” said Gibbs. “And you’re right. You shouldn’t have to lie, not to Ducky. I shouldn’t have put you in that position in the first place.”
“You can put me in any position you like,” Jimmy yawned as he snuggled in closer to Gibbs. Beneath his cheek, he could feel Gibbs muscles ripple as the older man laughed. A hand came down in what was closer to a caress than a headslap.
Gibbs ran his fingers through Jimmy’s hair, almost involuntarily. “Jimmy,” he said softly. There was no response. “So much for the stamina of youth,” he said to himself as he realized the younger man had fallen asleep already. Gibbs tried to maneuver his way out of the bed without disturbing him, but with every move, Jimmy seemed to cling even more tightly. Finally, Gibbs gave it up as a bad job and settled back down in the bed. He’d get up early and head back home to shower and change before work. First chance he got he’d speak to Ducky; put his mind at ease regarding Jimmy. And after that, well, he’d just see how things went.
As plans went, it wasn’t a bad one. But even the best laid plans fell victim to circumstance, and this one was no exception. Work took priority over personal lives, and several days passed without Gibbs finding the right time.
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Ducky disconnected the call on his mobile and walked over to Gibbs. “Jethro, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a bind.”
“What’s the matter, Duck?” asked Gibbs, concern in his voice.
“It’s Mother,” said Ducky. “That was her nurse on the line. It was such a lovely day that she took Mother out for a walk around the neighborhood, only now she’s lost her house keys. Well, when I say ‘lost’, I mean that Mother decided that swallowing them was the safest way to carry them.”
“Mrs. Mallard okay?”
“Oh she’ll be fine…it’s only a small key after all. But it means that they’re stuck outside the house until I can get home.”
“Don’t you have a spare key hidden outside?” asked Tony, as he snapped a picture of the crime scene.
“Yes, Tony,” said Ducky, “But you really don’t want to know where she put that. Jethro, I’ve finished my preliminary examination of the body, Mr. Palmer can oversee its removal back to N.C.I.S.”
“You want me to organize a ride for you back to town?” asked Gibbs.
“If you’d be so kind. Perhaps one of the local police officers could be of assistance. There’s another spare key inside the house, I’ll be able to leave that one with the nurse and return to my post forthwith.”
“The way the cops drive,” said Tony, “You’ll probably be back at N.C.I.S. before Palmer gets there!”
“You mean before *you* and Palmer get there,” said Gibbs.
“What?” Tony looked up from his camera. “Oh come on Gibbs, why do I have to ride back with the body? No offence Ducky, but your van is creepy. Let McGee do it.”
Gibbs swatted Tony almost automatically, “Finish taking the photos and help load the body.”
Tony sighed as he moved away, “On it Boss.” Walking over to where Jimmy was busy laying out the body bag, he called out, “Hey Palmer, heads up!” quickly snapping a shot of the younger man. “There we go, your first time bringing a body home without Ducky’s supervision. That’s one for the scrapbook.”
Gibbs overheard the conversation and couldn’t help but smile. It was a pity that he couldn’t have seconded himself to accompany Jimmy; the drive back to the Navy Yard would have been all the more pleasant. But he was running the investigation and there was evidence to collect, witnesses to interview, a whole heap of work that had to be done before the day was over.
Later, Gibbs would wish that he’d made a different choice; that he’d taken Tony’s place by Jimmy’s side, no matter how it would have looked. But that was later. For now he was just wishing that the case would be just as open and shut as it appeared, so that neither he nor Jimmy would have to work late.
It wasn’t until the frantic call from Abby that he realized the consequences of his decision.
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“Well I’ll start calling him Ducky,” said Jimmy, “The day you start calling Agent Gibbs ‘Jethro’!” There was no response from Tony, and Jimmy glanced over at him. “Tony, I said…”
“Heard you the first time, Palmer,” said Tony, his gaze fixed on the wing mirror. Glancing up as they neared a junction sign, he added, “Take the next left.”
“What? But that’s not the right road back,” protested Jimmy.
“Don’t argue,” said Tony, frowning as he once again watched the wing mirror. “Just do it.”
Jimmy glanced quickly at Tony. He wouldn’t put it past the man to deliberately guide him incorrectly just to be able to joke at his lack of a sense of direction, but Tony looked to be serious. “Okay,” said Jimmy, “But if we get lost, I’m making sure you get the blame.” He started to slow down as they approached the turn.
“Okay, once you’ve turned, step on the gas,” ordered Tony. He was silent for a few seconds after they’d made the turn, before cursing under his breath.
“Are we being followed?” asked Jimmy.
“Not sure,” said Tony, “But we’ve had the same SUV behind us for the last ten miles. A good road like that, nobody stays behind a van that’s going as slow as you if they don’t have to. *And*, they’ve just made the same turn as we did. Could be a coincidence…”
“But Gibbs doesn’t believe in coincidences. What…what do we do now?”
“You keep on driving,” said Tony, as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll have Abs run the license plate. Maybe it’s just a little old lady who doesn’t like going faster than fifty, and she just happens to live down this road…or maybe not…” He hit the speed dial.
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Abby was bored. She had finished her report on the latest batch of evidence to pass through her lab. Her computer was crunching numbers for a trajectory analysis which would surely give her bowling team the edge in the next tournament. Major Mass Spec and his buddies had been cleaned and prepped and were ready and waiting for the next batch of evidence to be fed into their hungry little mouths. The lab was as clean and tidy as she could make it, short of irradiating it. In short, there was nothing for Abby to do. So she did cartwheels.
Abby was on her fifth cartwheel across the floor when her phone rang. “Yes!” she punched the air triumphantly as she recognized Tony’s ring tone. “Tony!” she squealed into the phone. “Are you on your way back with lots of nice juicy evidence for me to sort through? Not I want anything *too* juicy, I mean it’s really hard to get the stains out of the Petri dishes, and I know they’re all sterilized and everything, but they don’t look as cool with juice stains. Well, apart from the ones I brought home to use as saucers, but I couldn’t re-use them in the lab anyway, so it wasn’t really stealing, and...”
“Abby!” Tony’s voice was barely audible through the connection. “I need you to run a plate for me…”
“Tony, you’re breaking up,” said Abby, “Wait a minute, let me get something to write with. I knew I shouldn’t have tidied up so well.”
“It’s Kilo, Delta…” There was a burst of static on the line before Tony’s voice came back, “Three, six…”
“Tony, I didn’t get all that,” said Abby, quickly tapping on her keyboard to bring up the search engine. “Kilo, Delta what?”
“Black SUV, Kilo, Delta, Uniform…”
“TONY! LOOK OUT!” Jimmy’s voice came over the connection.
“Tony! What’s going on?” Abby could hear the sound of metal impacting and the screech of brakes. “Tony!” And then the line went silent. She sat there hyperventilating for a few seconds, before automatically keying in the partial plate. Almost as soon as she hit enter, the land line on her desk rang. Abby grabbed it, “TONY!” she squealed into the handset, “What happened? Are you…” “Agent Cooper, I told you, that ballistics report was emailed to you an hour ago…” “Then get somebody from tech to show you how to open attachments…” “NO! I do *not* have time to bring you the hard copy now, it’s in the internal mail system…” Abby disconnected the call and then hit speed dial. “GIBBS! Something terrible has happened to Tony!”
To be continued