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ncisficathonTitle: Like An Unwinding Cable Car
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slash4femme
Written for:sexycazzy
Prompt: Palmer/Gibbs, slash, first time Palmer makes a decision to go after Gibbs after nearly being killed but Gibbs rejects him. Palmer won't give up and eventually, Gibbs gives in.
Archive: yes sure just let me know were you are posting my fic
Genre: romance/character study
Pairings: Palmer/Gibbs
Rating: PG-13
Warning: issues pertaining to mental illness
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this.
Word Count: 4,914
Summary: Palmer isn't afraid to ask for help and Gibbs isn't afraid to let go (eventually at least), but there are lots of other things they are afraid of that might just stand in their way.
Notes: I went a little off from the original prompt but hopefullysexycazzy ends up liking it anyway. Beta read by slashscribe who did a kick-ass job and thus any mistakes are mine alone.
Prologue:
“Um . . . Agent Gibbs?”
Gibbs turns halfway to his car to see Jimmy Palmer coming towards him, shoulders hunched a little, but expression hopeful.
“I was wondering if you would, you know,” Jimmy seems to flounder at little at this point. While Gibbs just stands there watching him. Finally, Jimmy squares his shoulders and looks up again, “I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me?” and Gibbs sighs.
He moves across the small distance that separates them and reaches out to gently ruffle Jimmy’s hair.
“I can’t, he tells him, not unkindly. “I don’t date members of my team.”
Jimmy blushes bright red at that and opens his mouth as if to say something else, but this time Gibbs doesn’t wait; he turns and walks the rest of his way to his car, unlocking it and getting in.
He glances in his rear view mirror only once as he drives out of the parking garage, hoping that Jimmy isn’t still standing there watching Gibbs drive away.
But of course he is.
I.
“Agent Gibbs?”
Gibbs blinks several times and then glances at the clock that reads 0530 in large glowing numbers. “Palmer?”
“I’m sorry.” Jimmy’s voice sounds high with distress across the line. “I just didn’t know who else to call and I need help, I can’t- I can’t handle this on my own.”
Gibbs is suddenly wide awake and sitting up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, one hand going to the drawer in his bedside table where he keeps his gun. “Palmer, where are you? What’s happening?”
There is a long pause and then Jimmy’s voice sounds even more upset than before. “No, no, I’m not in any danger, not really. It’s just my Mom-she’s sick.”
Gibbs closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Then why the hell are you calling me at 5:30 in the morning?” the question coming out sounding more relieved and exasperated then actually angry.
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says again. “I just didn’t know what to do. I found out last night that my is going to be evicted from her house, and I’ve been trying to clean it and call people and look after her and I just don’t know what to do.”
“Alright.” Gibbs cuts him off before Jimmy becomes even more hysterical. “Just give me the address.”
II.
Jimmy’s mother’s house is located in one of the little suburban neighborhoods just outside of the city. It’s a white, two-story house that looks pretty much the same as every other house on the street, and rather similar to Gibbs’ own house. Jimmy and a very small grey-haired woman are sitting on the front stoop when Gibbs pulls up. He gets out of the car carrying coffee and a bag of doughnuts.
“Agent Gibbs.” Jimmy stands and puts one hand on the small woman’s shoulder. “this is my mom, Eunice. Mom, this is Agent Gibbs, from work.”
“Nice to meet you.” Eunice says, as she offers him her small hand to shake. “I’m so sorry Jimmy felt the need to drag you out of bed so early.”
“It’s not a problem, Mrs. Palmer,” Gibbs tells her before grabbing Jimmy and dragging him far enough across the lawn to give them a little privacy. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Jimmy takes a fortifying swig of the coffee Gibbs had handed to him. My mom’s sick,” he finally tells Gibbs, hands clenched tightly around the paper coffee cup. “She’s Mentally ill; I mean she’s always had problems with depression, but after my father died she . . . she fell apart.” He takes another breath and another sip of coffee. “I’ve been trying to help her, but with the job and living in the city it’s been hard. Yesterday someone called Adult Protective Services, and they came and inspected the house and said she couldn’t live there alone anymore. I don’t know what to do, Agent Gibbs. They’re right; she can’t live here and she probably shouldn’t be on her own, but my apartment’s too small for us both and she has nowhere else to go.”
“Ok.” Gibbs holds up one hand. “Let me take a look.”
Jimmy nods jerkily and looks back down at his coffee while Gibbs makes his way back around the car and up the walk to the house. He nods at Mrs. Palmer on his way to the front door.
The first problem comes when he can only get the door open a couple feet. The gap looks just wide enough for someone as skinny as Jimmy or his mother to slide through, but Gibbs doubts he’s going to be able to get in there. He manages to get his head and part of his upper body through the gap, at least, and peers around what seems to be the front hall. All he sees is floor to ceiling cardboard boxes and mountains of random objects mixed with trash. The smell is overwhelming, like a crime scene that’s been closed up for too long. Gibbs pulls himself back out of the doorway and coughs into his hand and takes several deep breaths. When he turns, he sees Jimmy and his mother watching him with almost identical looks of pure misery. Gibbs makes his way back down the walk and pats the older woman gently on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, Ma’am we’ll get this figured out,” tells her grabbing Jimmy again and yanking across the lawn so they can sleep quietly again
“Are you sure there isn’t a dead body in there, Palmer?” Gibbs asks dumping out his coffee onto the lawn.
“God, I hope not.” Jimmy actually blanches at the thought. “I mean, as far as I know there isn’t. I just don’t want my Mom to get in any more trouble.”
“Ok.” Gibbs reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok, we’ll figure it out.” Gibbs looks across the car at Mrs. Palmer, who is sitting on the stoop again. “I’m going to go get some supplies,” he tells Jimmy quietly. “You stay with your mother.”
Jimmy nods and heads back towards the house while Gibbs gets in his car and heads for a cleaning supplies store. He buys rubber gloves and face masks and large amounts of cleaner. When he returns to the house, he sees Jimmy with both arms around his mother, who seems to be crying into his shoulder.
He gets out of the car and waits until Jimmy gently disentangles himself from his mother and goes over to him.
“Is she going to be ok?” He asks.
Jimmy sighs, “This is going to be really hard for her.”
He turns walks back to his mother again and takes both of her hands in his “ok so Agent Gibbs and I are going to start taking things out of the house now.” He tells her and she reluctantly nods. “can you stay out here on the front lawn and then you and I can sort stuff after we’ve moved some stuff out onto the stoop.” She nods again. Jimmy leads her to a stop on the front lawn were she’ll be able to see them work without getting in the way of the moving.
“Here.” Gibbs hands him a mask and gloves, which Jimmy puts on before they head for the house. Gibbs pushes the door open again, as far as it will go, and Jimmy squeezes inside through the opening. “Start passing things to me,” Gibbs instructs, putting on his own gloves and mask before taking the things Jimmy manages to push out of the house. They work together in silence until they can get the door always open. Jimmy finally pulls open the door and peers out at the large pile of old and study objects sitting next to Gibbs on the front stoop.
“We’re going to need to rent a dumpster,” Gibbs tells him quietly. “Let’s just hope the rentals are open on Saturday.”
He talks quietly to his mother who’s been standing rather forlornly on the lawn facing the house. He hugs her when she starts crying again. Gibbs pushes his way into the house and surveys the boxes from the inside. He can’t imagine how anyone had ever lived in there; he can’t even imagine fitting between the piles of stuff.
“Is she really going to be ok?” Gibbs asks when Jimmy comes back over to him. Jimmy is frowning, making a little crease appear between his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he admits softly. “Usually in these kinds of cases it’s important for the patient to be a participant in the cleaning process.” He throws Gibbs a quick look. “I mean from what I’ve read. I just don’t know if she’s even in a place where she can do that; I don’t want her to have some kind of break down again. But this house has to be cleaned out, there is no other way. The city is ready to condemn it.”
Gibbs pulls out his cellphone. “I’m calling Ducky,” he tells Jimmy. “See if he can come down here and figure out if your mother is stable enough to do this. I’ll also call Abby, see if she can lend us a hand.” Jimmy bites his lower lip but nods and heads back to where his mother is standing.
In about twenty minutes Ducky arrives in his car. Gibbs has been continuing to take boxes of stuff out of the house while Jimmy has set his mother up in a folding beach chair while they both sort through boxes together on the front lawn. Ducky stops on his way to the house to hug Jimmy and be introduces to his mother before joining Gibbs on the front stoop.
“What’s going on, Jethro?”
“Palmer’s Mom is having some problems.” Gibbs crosses his arms over his chest, “she’s a hoarder and the city is threatening to take the house. Palmer’s afraid she’s going to have a mental breakdown if we try to clean it out.”
Ducky sighs and then turns to look at Jimmy with his arms around his mother’s shoulders. “And you want me to evaluate the situation.” He looks back up at Gibbs. “You know this is not the kind of psychology I am trained in, Jethro.”
Gibbs reaches out and touches Ducky’s shoulder. “Just try. Please.”
Ducky looks back at the two figures by the car and then nods, heading towards them just as Abby and a large truck from the dumpster rental company pull up, with the dumpster Gibbs is renting.
Abby pulls up soon after and hugs Jimmy before being introduce to his mom and hugging Ducky for good measure.
“Can I see inside the house?” she finally asks and Jimmy nods.
“Sure, go take a look.”
Abby pulls on a mask and heads for the house to take a peek. “Definitely a severe hoarding situation,” she tells Gibbs when she returns. “I have a friend who does extreme cleaning; He and his crew clean out houses like this all the time. I’ve always wanted to try working on one of his projects with him but he’s never working when I have a day off, or something happens and we have a case. So this is going to be awesome!”
Gibbs pats her on the shoulder, smiling at her enthusiasm, before making his way over to where Ducky, Jimmy, and Mrs. Palmer are standing. Jimmy is holding both of his mother’s hands when Gibbs walks up and Mrs. Palmer is looking as if she might start crying again.
“I know you don’t want to do this Mom,” Jimmy tells her gently, “but it has to be done and it has to be done now. We don’t have time for you to go through every little thing, and I don’t want you to freak out.” Mrs. Palmer sniffles and Jimmy squeezes her hands lightly. “I need to know that you trust me to do this,” he tells her softly.
She looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and after several moments of hesitation, she nods, “Of course I trust you, Jimmy.” She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair off his forehead. You’re such a good boy, just don’t-” Her voice hitches on a sob. “Don’t throw away any of your Grandma Bertha’s things; you know how precious they are to me.”
“Of course, Mom.” Jimmy pulls her into a hug. “Now you go with Doctor Mallard. He’s going to take you to Ellen’s house, ok?”
Ducky gently takes her by the arm. “Come along my dear; let’s get you to your friend’s house.”
They head for Ducky’s car and Gibbs, Jimmy and Abby watch until they drive off before turning towards the house and the large dumpster now parked on the front lawn.
III.
By the time six o’clock rolls around, they’ve only made it as far as the living room. The dumpster is also full. Gibbs calls a halt to the cleanup for the night. He helps pull Abby out of a hole she’s managed to dig herself into amongst the boxes and debris in the living room and then sends her home.
“Do you want me to drive you?” he asks as Jimmy locks up.
“Would you mind?” Jimmy asks, glancing up at him before pocketing the keys.
Gibbs shrugs and heads for the car. They drive in silence before they pull up to Jimmy’s apartment. Gibbs walks with Jimmy to the door and watches Jimmy unlock the door.
“Can you come in?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “For a drink of water, or coffee, or tea? I might even have juice.”
Gibbs hesitates for a long moment before finally nodding and Jimmy leads the way into his apartment. The place is tiny with slightly worse for wear furniture and books packed into floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Gibbs stops to take a look at the shelves while Jimmy makes his way to the little galley-kitchenette. just a square of linoleum among the carpet, really. He opens the mini refrigerator and hesitates for a moment.
“Would you like a beer Agent Gibbs?”
“Just Gibbs,” Gibbs tells him absently, flipping through a history book on the Vietnam War. “A beer would be good.”
Jimmy takes two out of the fridge and takes the tops off.
“Thank you for doing this.” He walks over to where Gibbs is standing and hands him one of the beers.
Gibbs shrugs and puts away the book, taking the beer in his other hand. He watches Jimmy fold himself onto the futon that he has in the living room instead of a couch. He stands next to the bookcase, beer in one hand, for several long moments before he lowers himself down on the futon, too. Jimmy doesn’t look at him; instead, he chooses to stare down at the floor as he takes a sip of beer. Gibbs isn’t in the habit of saying things for the sake of hearing his own voice, so he lets the silence settle across the two of them. Jimmy, who sometimes talks in a nervous way, seems more than happy now to sit quietly. Gibbs glances over at him after several long minutes and notices Jimmy’s shoulders sagging with fatigue as well as the dark circles under his eyes, half hidden by his glasses.
“You should get some rest.” Gibbs finishes off his beer in several long pulls. He pretends not to notice when Jimmy’s eyes rise to follow the muscles of his throat when he swallows.
Jimmy rubs one hand across his face, pushing his glasses out of the way as he does it, pressing his knuckles under his eyes in a way that makes him look very young. “Yeah.” Jimmy lets his glasses fall back into place and looks down at his beer again. He bites his bottom lip ever-so-slightly and Gibbs fiddles with the empty beer bottle he’s still holding between his fingers. “I. . .” Jimmy rubs his hand across his face again, dragging it through his light brown curls and making them stand up, unkempt, in a way Gibbs has rarely seen. Gibbs suddenly realizes that Jimmy’s hand, still holding his beer, is shaking ever so slightly. “Could you stay?” Jimmy asks as he finally looks up. Gibbs sees that there isn’t any hope in his expression, only bone-deep exhaustion and sadness. “The futon folds out.”
Gibbs knows he should say no, but he finds himself nodding instead. “Okay.”
IV.
Gibbs has folded up the futon and is already awake, showered, and shaved when Jimmy makes his way out of the bedroom. Jimmy’s wearing jeans and a faded sky blue t-shirt with “Death Cab for Cutie” stenciled across the front. Gibbs sits on the couch and does not watch the way Jimmy’s jeans fall low on slim hips or pool around equally slim feet. Jimmy fills the coffee maker without speaking and leans against the counter, still silent, until the coffee is finished. He digs out two mugs, both get rid of in a clashing orange and brown that make Gibbs think they might be older then Jimmy is. Jimmy pours coffee and then slides one cup across the counter towards Gibbs before taking several long sips of his own.
“Good morning,” Jimmy finally, scratching along the stubble at his jaw as Gibbs’ fingers curl around his own coffee mug.
“Good morning, Palmer.”
Jimmy only sighs in a very tired way and finishes off his coffee before heading for the bathroom. Gibbs watches the closed bathroom door for several thoughtful minutes before he digs out his cellphone and calls Abby.
When Jimmy comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, freshly shaved, Gibbs is washing out their coffee cups at the tiny sink.
“Go see your mom,” he tells Jimmy without looking at him, putting the cups in the drying rack.
“But,” Jimmy starts, rubbing his hands through his tousled curls again. “The house.”
“I called Abby and told her to get in touch with that friend of hers, who does extreme cleaning,” Gibbs tells him. “Go take care of your mom, Palmer , and don’t worry about the house.”
“I can’t afford-” Jimmy starts, and Gibbs shakes his head once, turning away from the sink, and glares. Jimmy closes his mouth and swallows. He keeps his head down as he pulls on his sneakers and jacket and Gibbs watches him for a moment and then sighs.
Gibbs moves around the counter out of the kitchen and touches Jimmy lightly on the shoulder, causing him to start, eyes snapping up to Gibbs’ face. Gibbs lets his hand rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing small soothing circles very close to the t-shirt’s neckline. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly and Jimmy licks his lips slowly and glances away, cheeks pinking.
“Thank you.”
Gibbs shakes his head, drawing his hand away and pulling on his coat, reaching for his keys. “Don’t have to thank me, Palmer”
“Jimmy,” Jimmy says softly as Gibbs reaches to open the front door. “It’s Jimmy.”
Gibbs doesn’t pause, but he also can’t quite shake the small tight pain that lodges itself in his gut. He’s frowning by the time he starts the car, wishing the pain felt a little less like regret.
Abby’s friend and his team have the house cleaned out by the evening. They've also hauled away five dumpsters’ worth of trash. When Gibbs calls Jimmy to tell him the house is clean, Jimmy sounds unreasonably tired. Gibbs pays the crew, and Abby and her friend head out, Abby talking animatedly the entire way. Gibbs leans against his car and waits for Jimmy.
When Jimmy walks up to the house, he looks as tired as he’d sounded on the phone. He stays quiet as Gibbs leads him into the living room and around the now mostly empty rooms. Finally, when they’re back out on the stoop, Gibbs reaches out, putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.
“What happened?”
Jimmy shakes his head and looks away. “I checked my mom into a mental hospital this afternoon. She can’t live by herself, not now, maybe if she gets help . . .” He trails off and rubs his knuckles under his eyes again, hands clenched tight.
Gibbs realizes suddenly that Jimmy is actually close to tears.
“I’m a horrible son,” Jimmy whispers, and Gibbs grabs him and hugs him tight.
Jimmy fits against him a little awkwardly, head coming to rest against Gibbs’ shoulder. Jimmy is slim enough for Gibbs’ arms to go all the way around him comfortably, just long tight muscles and soft skin under a too thin t-shirt and light jacket. Gibbs’ breath ruffles Jimmy’s curls when he sighs against the side of Jimmy’s head. Gibbs wants to tell Jimmy this isn’t his fault, that he’s not wrong or bad for not being able to fix this and that sometimes people can’t be saved, even people we love.
“You did the best you could,” he says instead and continues to hold Jimmy close.
“I should have done more.” Jimmy presses his face into Gibbs’ shoulder.
“You did everything you could,” Gibbs tells him, keeping his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
Jimmy’s whole body shudders. “I love her.”
Gibbs reaches one hand up and strokes his hair. “She knows you do.”
They’re silent then, just standing there holding each other, and Gibbs doesn’t care if the neighbors are watching or what they must think. It’s Jimmy who finally pulls away, running one hand down the front of his shirt and looking at the ground before turning towards the car.
“Thank you again so, so much Agent Gibbs. I don’t know-”
“Jimmy.” Gibbs cuts him off. “Stop thanking me. It’s alright.” He reaches out for Jimmy again and has to force himself to let his hand drop and stop touching Jimmy. “Come on.” Gibbs nods to his car. “Let’s get you home and get something to eat.”
Jimmy opens his mouth to protest and Gibbs reaches out for him again, grabbing him by the elbow and leading him towards the car. He pushes Jimmy into the passenger seat and climbs into the driver’s seat himself. Luckily, Jimmy seems to know better than to argue, and keeps quiet during the drive. He lets Gibbs guide him out of the car and into the apartment.
Jimmy strips off his jacket and drops down onto the futon while Gibbs pokes around the kitchen, locating pasta and a jar of vodka sauce.
“you don’t have to.” Jimmy finally starts again and Gibbs glares at him.
“No, I don’t.”
He fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove. Jimmy sighs and stands up, walking over to the short counter that divides the living room from the kitchenette.
“why are you here, Gibbs?” Jimmy’s voice sounds tire and his stumbles over his words a little as he speaks, “why are you being so nice to me?”
The corner of Gibbs’ mouth quirks up into a small, self-depreciating smile as he turns away from the stove. “The truth? I don’t know.” He sighs and rubs one hand through his own close-cropped hair. “You’re too young for me, Jimmy. In more ways than one.”
Jimmy looks away at that, staring down at the counter, but not before Gibbs sees the hurt in his eyes. Jimmy goes to the living room and faces the bookshelves, looking anywhere but Gibbs.
“This is the second time you’ve turned me down.” Jimmy laughs without humor, rubs the back of his neck. “I should have gotten the message by now, huh?”
Gibbs adds the pasta to the water without saying anything and watches Jimmy’s shoulders slump forward even more. Jimmy seems to fold in on himself and sits down onto the futon.
Gibbs walks over to sit next to Jimmy. “Why do you want to go out with me?” he asks with a small frown.
Jimmy shrugs with one shoulder. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I like that you use your intelligence to solve cases. And most agents don’t really care about autopsy. I mean, they just wait for the written report, but you have so much respect for Doctor Mallard and what he does, what I do. And you’re kind. I’ve seen you be kind to lots of people on cases, and you were kind to me that time when I almost got killed.” Jimmy pulls his knees up against his chest and is quiet for a few moments. “After Brenna broke up with me I thought, what would I have to lose if I told you I was interested?” He looks up at Gibbs and then away again, biting his lip.
Gibbs stands up and moves back over to the kitchen, draining the pasta and putting the sauce into a small pan to heat it. He puts everything on Jimmy’s tiny table and Jimmy uncurls himself to come and sit down across from Gibbs.
“If we were gonna date, what would we do?” Gibbs asks and Jimmy almost chokes on his first mouthful of pasta.
“I don’t know.” Jimmy sets his fork down. “We could go out to eat, or stay in and eat, or get coffee together. We could watch a movie or tv show. I like to go to museums, but if you don’t that’s ok; we could do something else instead, like . . .” Jimmy fumbles for a moment. “I don’t know, anything you want really. Anything would be fine with me.” He looks down at his pasta and then up at Gibbs again. “But. I do understand why you don’t want to go out with me-”
“Okay.”
“What?” Behind his glasses, Jimmy’s eyes are large and confused.
“I’ll go out with you.” Gibbs stares calmly back
“But, but . . . Why?”
Gibbs can’t help but smile at that, really smile this time. “You know how many guys actually ask me out on dates, Jimmy? Not that many, and I like that you did. And I like that you’re not afraid to ask for help when you need it. I like you, very much, a hell of a lot more then I should, actually.”
“Oh.” Jimmy looks down at the table and then up at Gibbs again, “So we’re going to go out?”
“If you still want to.” Gibbs scoops up more pasta with his fork.
“Yeah! I mean yes, I still want to.” Jimmy grins finally for the first time all weekend and then ducks his head.
Jimmy insists on doing the dishes after they eat, and after a short argument Gibbs lets him. He goes into the living room instead to examine the bookcases again. Gibbs discovers that there are several shelves of DVDs, too, and he’s trying to figure out what ‘MythBusters’ is when Jimmy clears his throat behind him.
“Would you like to come over next week?” Jimmy gives him another hesitant look. “I’ll make dinner.”
Gibbs nods, and is suddenly not sure what to do with his hands. Jimmy’s expression is still uncertain but hopeful and he tosses the dish towel over the counter and moves until he standing quite close to Gibbs. They stand there for several moments before Gibbs leans forward and cups Jimmy’s face with one hand. Jimmy shudders ever so slightly right before Gibbs kisses him. Their lips slide against each other, warm and slow. Gibbs draws back for a moment and then kisses him again, letting his mouth linger over Jimmy’s, but still keeping it fairly chaste. Gibbs pulls away after a moment but lets his hands rest against Jimmy’s face. He notes the flush starting to creep across Jimmy’s cheeks and way his lips look soft and moist.
“I should go.”
“You know I’m not fragile or innocent or anything like that, right?” Jimmy asks him, frowning slightly. “You act like you’re afraid of doing something to me, but you shouldn’t be. It’s not like I’m a virgin; I like having sex in public places, you know.”
Gibbs laughs at that. “Yeah I know.” His thumb brushes across Jimmy’s cheek. “I also know that I want to go slow with you, though.” He brushes his fingers across Jimmy’s cheek again and then bends down to press their lips together briefly before straightening back up. “Because I like you.”
“Okay.” Jimmy looks rather dazed as he licks his lips. “As long as we don’t go slow forever.”
“Oh, we won’t.” Gibbs kisses him again, just as gently, but this time letting his tongue tease at the line of Jimmy’s lips before stepping back and dropping his hands to his sides. “I have to go.” He reaches up and ruffles Jimmy’s curls. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Okay.” Jimmy follows Gibbs to the door. “Good night, then.” He hesitates for a moment, then grasps the front of Gibbs’ polo shirt gently and tugs him close and kisses him lightly on the lips.
When Gibbs pulls away and heads for his car, he can’t help but glance over his shoulder to see Jimmy still standing at the door watching him, a huge smile plastered over his face. Gibbs is smiling, too.
Author:
slash4femme Written for:
sexycazzyPrompt: Palmer/Gibbs, slash, first time Palmer makes a decision to go after Gibbs after nearly being killed but Gibbs rejects him. Palmer won't give up and eventually, Gibbs gives in.
Archive: yes sure just let me know were you are posting my fic
Genre: romance/character study
Pairings: Palmer/Gibbs
Rating: PG-13
Warning: issues pertaining to mental illness
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this.
Word Count: 4,914
Summary: Palmer isn't afraid to ask for help and Gibbs isn't afraid to let go (eventually at least), but there are lots of other things they are afraid of that might just stand in their way.
Notes: I went a little off from the original prompt but hopefully
sexycazzy ends up liking it anyway. Beta read by slashscribe who did a kick-ass job and thus any mistakes are mine alone. Prologue:
“Um . . . Agent Gibbs?”
Gibbs turns halfway to his car to see Jimmy Palmer coming towards him, shoulders hunched a little, but expression hopeful.
“I was wondering if you would, you know,” Jimmy seems to flounder at little at this point. While Gibbs just stands there watching him. Finally, Jimmy squares his shoulders and looks up again, “I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me?” and Gibbs sighs.
He moves across the small distance that separates them and reaches out to gently ruffle Jimmy’s hair.
“I can’t, he tells him, not unkindly. “I don’t date members of my team.”
Jimmy blushes bright red at that and opens his mouth as if to say something else, but this time Gibbs doesn’t wait; he turns and walks the rest of his way to his car, unlocking it and getting in.
He glances in his rear view mirror only once as he drives out of the parking garage, hoping that Jimmy isn’t still standing there watching Gibbs drive away.
But of course he is.
I.
“Agent Gibbs?”
Gibbs blinks several times and then glances at the clock that reads 0530 in large glowing numbers. “Palmer?”
“I’m sorry.” Jimmy’s voice sounds high with distress across the line. “I just didn’t know who else to call and I need help, I can’t- I can’t handle this on my own.”
Gibbs is suddenly wide awake and sitting up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, one hand going to the drawer in his bedside table where he keeps his gun. “Palmer, where are you? What’s happening?”
There is a long pause and then Jimmy’s voice sounds even more upset than before. “No, no, I’m not in any danger, not really. It’s just my Mom-she’s sick.”
Gibbs closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Then why the hell are you calling me at 5:30 in the morning?” the question coming out sounding more relieved and exasperated then actually angry.
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says again. “I just didn’t know what to do. I found out last night that my is going to be evicted from her house, and I’ve been trying to clean it and call people and look after her and I just don’t know what to do.”
“Alright.” Gibbs cuts him off before Jimmy becomes even more hysterical. “Just give me the address.”
II.
Jimmy’s mother’s house is located in one of the little suburban neighborhoods just outside of the city. It’s a white, two-story house that looks pretty much the same as every other house on the street, and rather similar to Gibbs’ own house. Jimmy and a very small grey-haired woman are sitting on the front stoop when Gibbs pulls up. He gets out of the car carrying coffee and a bag of doughnuts.
“Agent Gibbs.” Jimmy stands and puts one hand on the small woman’s shoulder. “this is my mom, Eunice. Mom, this is Agent Gibbs, from work.”
“Nice to meet you.” Eunice says, as she offers him her small hand to shake. “I’m so sorry Jimmy felt the need to drag you out of bed so early.”
“It’s not a problem, Mrs. Palmer,” Gibbs tells her before grabbing Jimmy and dragging him far enough across the lawn to give them a little privacy. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Jimmy takes a fortifying swig of the coffee Gibbs had handed to him. My mom’s sick,” he finally tells Gibbs, hands clenched tightly around the paper coffee cup. “She’s Mentally ill; I mean she’s always had problems with depression, but after my father died she . . . she fell apart.” He takes another breath and another sip of coffee. “I’ve been trying to help her, but with the job and living in the city it’s been hard. Yesterday someone called Adult Protective Services, and they came and inspected the house and said she couldn’t live there alone anymore. I don’t know what to do, Agent Gibbs. They’re right; she can’t live here and she probably shouldn’t be on her own, but my apartment’s too small for us both and she has nowhere else to go.”
“Ok.” Gibbs holds up one hand. “Let me take a look.”
Jimmy nods jerkily and looks back down at his coffee while Gibbs makes his way back around the car and up the walk to the house. He nods at Mrs. Palmer on his way to the front door.
The first problem comes when he can only get the door open a couple feet. The gap looks just wide enough for someone as skinny as Jimmy or his mother to slide through, but Gibbs doubts he’s going to be able to get in there. He manages to get his head and part of his upper body through the gap, at least, and peers around what seems to be the front hall. All he sees is floor to ceiling cardboard boxes and mountains of random objects mixed with trash. The smell is overwhelming, like a crime scene that’s been closed up for too long. Gibbs pulls himself back out of the doorway and coughs into his hand and takes several deep breaths. When he turns, he sees Jimmy and his mother watching him with almost identical looks of pure misery. Gibbs makes his way back down the walk and pats the older woman gently on the shoulder.
“It’s alright, Ma’am we’ll get this figured out,” tells her grabbing Jimmy again and yanking across the lawn so they can sleep quietly again
“Are you sure there isn’t a dead body in there, Palmer?” Gibbs asks dumping out his coffee onto the lawn.
“God, I hope not.” Jimmy actually blanches at the thought. “I mean, as far as I know there isn’t. I just don’t want my Mom to get in any more trouble.”
“Ok.” Gibbs reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok, we’ll figure it out.” Gibbs looks across the car at Mrs. Palmer, who is sitting on the stoop again. “I’m going to go get some supplies,” he tells Jimmy quietly. “You stay with your mother.”
Jimmy nods and heads back towards the house while Gibbs gets in his car and heads for a cleaning supplies store. He buys rubber gloves and face masks and large amounts of cleaner. When he returns to the house, he sees Jimmy with both arms around his mother, who seems to be crying into his shoulder.
He gets out of the car and waits until Jimmy gently disentangles himself from his mother and goes over to him.
“Is she going to be ok?” He asks.
Jimmy sighs, “This is going to be really hard for her.”
He turns walks back to his mother again and takes both of her hands in his “ok so Agent Gibbs and I are going to start taking things out of the house now.” He tells her and she reluctantly nods. “can you stay out here on the front lawn and then you and I can sort stuff after we’ve moved some stuff out onto the stoop.” She nods again. Jimmy leads her to a stop on the front lawn were she’ll be able to see them work without getting in the way of the moving.
“Here.” Gibbs hands him a mask and gloves, which Jimmy puts on before they head for the house. Gibbs pushes the door open again, as far as it will go, and Jimmy squeezes inside through the opening. “Start passing things to me,” Gibbs instructs, putting on his own gloves and mask before taking the things Jimmy manages to push out of the house. They work together in silence until they can get the door always open. Jimmy finally pulls open the door and peers out at the large pile of old and study objects sitting next to Gibbs on the front stoop.
“We’re going to need to rent a dumpster,” Gibbs tells him quietly. “Let’s just hope the rentals are open on Saturday.”
He talks quietly to his mother who’s been standing rather forlornly on the lawn facing the house. He hugs her when she starts crying again. Gibbs pushes his way into the house and surveys the boxes from the inside. He can’t imagine how anyone had ever lived in there; he can’t even imagine fitting between the piles of stuff.
“Is she really going to be ok?” Gibbs asks when Jimmy comes back over to him. Jimmy is frowning, making a little crease appear between his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he admits softly. “Usually in these kinds of cases it’s important for the patient to be a participant in the cleaning process.” He throws Gibbs a quick look. “I mean from what I’ve read. I just don’t know if she’s even in a place where she can do that; I don’t want her to have some kind of break down again. But this house has to be cleaned out, there is no other way. The city is ready to condemn it.”
Gibbs pulls out his cellphone. “I’m calling Ducky,” he tells Jimmy. “See if he can come down here and figure out if your mother is stable enough to do this. I’ll also call Abby, see if she can lend us a hand.” Jimmy bites his lower lip but nods and heads back to where his mother is standing.
In about twenty minutes Ducky arrives in his car. Gibbs has been continuing to take boxes of stuff out of the house while Jimmy has set his mother up in a folding beach chair while they both sort through boxes together on the front lawn. Ducky stops on his way to the house to hug Jimmy and be introduces to his mother before joining Gibbs on the front stoop.
“What’s going on, Jethro?”
“Palmer’s Mom is having some problems.” Gibbs crosses his arms over his chest, “she’s a hoarder and the city is threatening to take the house. Palmer’s afraid she’s going to have a mental breakdown if we try to clean it out.”
Ducky sighs and then turns to look at Jimmy with his arms around his mother’s shoulders. “And you want me to evaluate the situation.” He looks back up at Gibbs. “You know this is not the kind of psychology I am trained in, Jethro.”
Gibbs reaches out and touches Ducky’s shoulder. “Just try. Please.”
Ducky looks back at the two figures by the car and then nods, heading towards them just as Abby and a large truck from the dumpster rental company pull up, with the dumpster Gibbs is renting.
Abby pulls up soon after and hugs Jimmy before being introduce to his mom and hugging Ducky for good measure.
“Can I see inside the house?” she finally asks and Jimmy nods.
“Sure, go take a look.”
Abby pulls on a mask and heads for the house to take a peek. “Definitely a severe hoarding situation,” she tells Gibbs when she returns. “I have a friend who does extreme cleaning; He and his crew clean out houses like this all the time. I’ve always wanted to try working on one of his projects with him but he’s never working when I have a day off, or something happens and we have a case. So this is going to be awesome!”
Gibbs pats her on the shoulder, smiling at her enthusiasm, before making his way over to where Ducky, Jimmy, and Mrs. Palmer are standing. Jimmy is holding both of his mother’s hands when Gibbs walks up and Mrs. Palmer is looking as if she might start crying again.
“I know you don’t want to do this Mom,” Jimmy tells her gently, “but it has to be done and it has to be done now. We don’t have time for you to go through every little thing, and I don’t want you to freak out.” Mrs. Palmer sniffles and Jimmy squeezes her hands lightly. “I need to know that you trust me to do this,” he tells her softly.
She looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and after several moments of hesitation, she nods, “Of course I trust you, Jimmy.” She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair off his forehead. You’re such a good boy, just don’t-” Her voice hitches on a sob. “Don’t throw away any of your Grandma Bertha’s things; you know how precious they are to me.”
“Of course, Mom.” Jimmy pulls her into a hug. “Now you go with Doctor Mallard. He’s going to take you to Ellen’s house, ok?”
Ducky gently takes her by the arm. “Come along my dear; let’s get you to your friend’s house.”
They head for Ducky’s car and Gibbs, Jimmy and Abby watch until they drive off before turning towards the house and the large dumpster now parked on the front lawn.
III.
By the time six o’clock rolls around, they’ve only made it as far as the living room. The dumpster is also full. Gibbs calls a halt to the cleanup for the night. He helps pull Abby out of a hole she’s managed to dig herself into amongst the boxes and debris in the living room and then sends her home.
“Do you want me to drive you?” he asks as Jimmy locks up.
“Would you mind?” Jimmy asks, glancing up at him before pocketing the keys.
Gibbs shrugs and heads for the car. They drive in silence before they pull up to Jimmy’s apartment. Gibbs walks with Jimmy to the door and watches Jimmy unlock the door.
“Can you come in?” Jimmy asks tentatively. “For a drink of water, or coffee, or tea? I might even have juice.”
Gibbs hesitates for a long moment before finally nodding and Jimmy leads the way into his apartment. The place is tiny with slightly worse for wear furniture and books packed into floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Gibbs stops to take a look at the shelves while Jimmy makes his way to the little galley-kitchenette. just a square of linoleum among the carpet, really. He opens the mini refrigerator and hesitates for a moment.
“Would you like a beer Agent Gibbs?”
“Just Gibbs,” Gibbs tells him absently, flipping through a history book on the Vietnam War. “A beer would be good.”
Jimmy takes two out of the fridge and takes the tops off.
“Thank you for doing this.” He walks over to where Gibbs is standing and hands him one of the beers.
Gibbs shrugs and puts away the book, taking the beer in his other hand. He watches Jimmy fold himself onto the futon that he has in the living room instead of a couch. He stands next to the bookcase, beer in one hand, for several long moments before he lowers himself down on the futon, too. Jimmy doesn’t look at him; instead, he chooses to stare down at the floor as he takes a sip of beer. Gibbs isn’t in the habit of saying things for the sake of hearing his own voice, so he lets the silence settle across the two of them. Jimmy, who sometimes talks in a nervous way, seems more than happy now to sit quietly. Gibbs glances over at him after several long minutes and notices Jimmy’s shoulders sagging with fatigue as well as the dark circles under his eyes, half hidden by his glasses.
“You should get some rest.” Gibbs finishes off his beer in several long pulls. He pretends not to notice when Jimmy’s eyes rise to follow the muscles of his throat when he swallows.
Jimmy rubs one hand across his face, pushing his glasses out of the way as he does it, pressing his knuckles under his eyes in a way that makes him look very young. “Yeah.” Jimmy lets his glasses fall back into place and looks down at his beer again. He bites his bottom lip ever-so-slightly and Gibbs fiddles with the empty beer bottle he’s still holding between his fingers. “I. . .” Jimmy rubs his hand across his face again, dragging it through his light brown curls and making them stand up, unkempt, in a way Gibbs has rarely seen. Gibbs suddenly realizes that Jimmy’s hand, still holding his beer, is shaking ever so slightly. “Could you stay?” Jimmy asks as he finally looks up. Gibbs sees that there isn’t any hope in his expression, only bone-deep exhaustion and sadness. “The futon folds out.”
Gibbs knows he should say no, but he finds himself nodding instead. “Okay.”
IV.
Gibbs has folded up the futon and is already awake, showered, and shaved when Jimmy makes his way out of the bedroom. Jimmy’s wearing jeans and a faded sky blue t-shirt with “Death Cab for Cutie” stenciled across the front. Gibbs sits on the couch and does not watch the way Jimmy’s jeans fall low on slim hips or pool around equally slim feet. Jimmy fills the coffee maker without speaking and leans against the counter, still silent, until the coffee is finished. He digs out two mugs, both get rid of in a clashing orange and brown that make Gibbs think they might be older then Jimmy is. Jimmy pours coffee and then slides one cup across the counter towards Gibbs before taking several long sips of his own.
“Good morning,” Jimmy finally, scratching along the stubble at his jaw as Gibbs’ fingers curl around his own coffee mug.
“Good morning, Palmer.”
Jimmy only sighs in a very tired way and finishes off his coffee before heading for the bathroom. Gibbs watches the closed bathroom door for several thoughtful minutes before he digs out his cellphone and calls Abby.
When Jimmy comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, freshly shaved, Gibbs is washing out their coffee cups at the tiny sink.
“Go see your mom,” he tells Jimmy without looking at him, putting the cups in the drying rack.
“But,” Jimmy starts, rubbing his hands through his tousled curls again. “The house.”
“I called Abby and told her to get in touch with that friend of hers, who does extreme cleaning,” Gibbs tells him. “Go take care of your mom, Palmer , and don’t worry about the house.”
“I can’t afford-” Jimmy starts, and Gibbs shakes his head once, turning away from the sink, and glares. Jimmy closes his mouth and swallows. He keeps his head down as he pulls on his sneakers and jacket and Gibbs watches him for a moment and then sighs.
Gibbs moves around the counter out of the kitchen and touches Jimmy lightly on the shoulder, causing him to start, eyes snapping up to Gibbs’ face. Gibbs lets his hand rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing small soothing circles very close to the t-shirt’s neckline. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly and Jimmy licks his lips slowly and glances away, cheeks pinking.
“Thank you.”
Gibbs shakes his head, drawing his hand away and pulling on his coat, reaching for his keys. “Don’t have to thank me, Palmer”
“Jimmy,” Jimmy says softly as Gibbs reaches to open the front door. “It’s Jimmy.”
Gibbs doesn’t pause, but he also can’t quite shake the small tight pain that lodges itself in his gut. He’s frowning by the time he starts the car, wishing the pain felt a little less like regret.
Abby’s friend and his team have the house cleaned out by the evening. They've also hauled away five dumpsters’ worth of trash. When Gibbs calls Jimmy to tell him the house is clean, Jimmy sounds unreasonably tired. Gibbs pays the crew, and Abby and her friend head out, Abby talking animatedly the entire way. Gibbs leans against his car and waits for Jimmy.
When Jimmy walks up to the house, he looks as tired as he’d sounded on the phone. He stays quiet as Gibbs leads him into the living room and around the now mostly empty rooms. Finally, when they’re back out on the stoop, Gibbs reaches out, putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.
“What happened?”
Jimmy shakes his head and looks away. “I checked my mom into a mental hospital this afternoon. She can’t live by herself, not now, maybe if she gets help . . .” He trails off and rubs his knuckles under his eyes again, hands clenched tight.
Gibbs realizes suddenly that Jimmy is actually close to tears.
“I’m a horrible son,” Jimmy whispers, and Gibbs grabs him and hugs him tight.
Jimmy fits against him a little awkwardly, head coming to rest against Gibbs’ shoulder. Jimmy is slim enough for Gibbs’ arms to go all the way around him comfortably, just long tight muscles and soft skin under a too thin t-shirt and light jacket. Gibbs’ breath ruffles Jimmy’s curls when he sighs against the side of Jimmy’s head. Gibbs wants to tell Jimmy this isn’t his fault, that he’s not wrong or bad for not being able to fix this and that sometimes people can’t be saved, even people we love.
“You did the best you could,” he says instead and continues to hold Jimmy close.
“I should have done more.” Jimmy presses his face into Gibbs’ shoulder.
“You did everything you could,” Gibbs tells him, keeping his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
Jimmy’s whole body shudders. “I love her.”
Gibbs reaches one hand up and strokes his hair. “She knows you do.”
They’re silent then, just standing there holding each other, and Gibbs doesn’t care if the neighbors are watching or what they must think. It’s Jimmy who finally pulls away, running one hand down the front of his shirt and looking at the ground before turning towards the car.
“Thank you again so, so much Agent Gibbs. I don’t know-”
“Jimmy.” Gibbs cuts him off. “Stop thanking me. It’s alright.” He reaches out for Jimmy again and has to force himself to let his hand drop and stop touching Jimmy. “Come on.” Gibbs nods to his car. “Let’s get you home and get something to eat.”
Jimmy opens his mouth to protest and Gibbs reaches out for him again, grabbing him by the elbow and leading him towards the car. He pushes Jimmy into the passenger seat and climbs into the driver’s seat himself. Luckily, Jimmy seems to know better than to argue, and keeps quiet during the drive. He lets Gibbs guide him out of the car and into the apartment.
Jimmy strips off his jacket and drops down onto the futon while Gibbs pokes around the kitchen, locating pasta and a jar of vodka sauce.
“you don’t have to.” Jimmy finally starts again and Gibbs glares at him.
“No, I don’t.”
He fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove. Jimmy sighs and stands up, walking over to the short counter that divides the living room from the kitchenette.
“why are you here, Gibbs?” Jimmy’s voice sounds tire and his stumbles over his words a little as he speaks, “why are you being so nice to me?”
The corner of Gibbs’ mouth quirks up into a small, self-depreciating smile as he turns away from the stove. “The truth? I don’t know.” He sighs and rubs one hand through his own close-cropped hair. “You’re too young for me, Jimmy. In more ways than one.”
Jimmy looks away at that, staring down at the counter, but not before Gibbs sees the hurt in his eyes. Jimmy goes to the living room and faces the bookshelves, looking anywhere but Gibbs.
“This is the second time you’ve turned me down.” Jimmy laughs without humor, rubs the back of his neck. “I should have gotten the message by now, huh?”
Gibbs adds the pasta to the water without saying anything and watches Jimmy’s shoulders slump forward even more. Jimmy seems to fold in on himself and sits down onto the futon.
Gibbs walks over to sit next to Jimmy. “Why do you want to go out with me?” he asks with a small frown.
Jimmy shrugs with one shoulder. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I like that you use your intelligence to solve cases. And most agents don’t really care about autopsy. I mean, they just wait for the written report, but you have so much respect for Doctor Mallard and what he does, what I do. And you’re kind. I’ve seen you be kind to lots of people on cases, and you were kind to me that time when I almost got killed.” Jimmy pulls his knees up against his chest and is quiet for a few moments. “After Brenna broke up with me I thought, what would I have to lose if I told you I was interested?” He looks up at Gibbs and then away again, biting his lip.
Gibbs stands up and moves back over to the kitchen, draining the pasta and putting the sauce into a small pan to heat it. He puts everything on Jimmy’s tiny table and Jimmy uncurls himself to come and sit down across from Gibbs.
“If we were gonna date, what would we do?” Gibbs asks and Jimmy almost chokes on his first mouthful of pasta.
“I don’t know.” Jimmy sets his fork down. “We could go out to eat, or stay in and eat, or get coffee together. We could watch a movie or tv show. I like to go to museums, but if you don’t that’s ok; we could do something else instead, like . . .” Jimmy fumbles for a moment. “I don’t know, anything you want really. Anything would be fine with me.” He looks down at his pasta and then up at Gibbs again. “But. I do understand why you don’t want to go out with me-”
“Okay.”
“What?” Behind his glasses, Jimmy’s eyes are large and confused.
“I’ll go out with you.” Gibbs stares calmly back
“But, but . . . Why?”
Gibbs can’t help but smile at that, really smile this time. “You know how many guys actually ask me out on dates, Jimmy? Not that many, and I like that you did. And I like that you’re not afraid to ask for help when you need it. I like you, very much, a hell of a lot more then I should, actually.”
“Oh.” Jimmy looks down at the table and then up at Gibbs again, “So we’re going to go out?”
“If you still want to.” Gibbs scoops up more pasta with his fork.
“Yeah! I mean yes, I still want to.” Jimmy grins finally for the first time all weekend and then ducks his head.
Jimmy insists on doing the dishes after they eat, and after a short argument Gibbs lets him. He goes into the living room instead to examine the bookcases again. Gibbs discovers that there are several shelves of DVDs, too, and he’s trying to figure out what ‘MythBusters’ is when Jimmy clears his throat behind him.
“Would you like to come over next week?” Jimmy gives him another hesitant look. “I’ll make dinner.”
Gibbs nods, and is suddenly not sure what to do with his hands. Jimmy’s expression is still uncertain but hopeful and he tosses the dish towel over the counter and moves until he standing quite close to Gibbs. They stand there for several moments before Gibbs leans forward and cups Jimmy’s face with one hand. Jimmy shudders ever so slightly right before Gibbs kisses him. Their lips slide against each other, warm and slow. Gibbs draws back for a moment and then kisses him again, letting his mouth linger over Jimmy’s, but still keeping it fairly chaste. Gibbs pulls away after a moment but lets his hands rest against Jimmy’s face. He notes the flush starting to creep across Jimmy’s cheeks and way his lips look soft and moist.
“I should go.”
“You know I’m not fragile or innocent or anything like that, right?” Jimmy asks him, frowning slightly. “You act like you’re afraid of doing something to me, but you shouldn’t be. It’s not like I’m a virgin; I like having sex in public places, you know.”
Gibbs laughs at that. “Yeah I know.” His thumb brushes across Jimmy’s cheek. “I also know that I want to go slow with you, though.” He brushes his fingers across Jimmy’s cheek again and then bends down to press their lips together briefly before straightening back up. “Because I like you.”
“Okay.” Jimmy looks rather dazed as he licks his lips. “As long as we don’t go slow forever.”
“Oh, we won’t.” Gibbs kisses him again, just as gently, but this time letting his tongue tease at the line of Jimmy’s lips before stepping back and dropping his hands to his sides. “I have to go.” He reaches up and ruffles Jimmy’s curls. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Okay.” Jimmy follows Gibbs to the door. “Good night, then.” He hesitates for a moment, then grasps the front of Gibbs’ polo shirt gently and tugs him close and kisses him lightly on the lips.
When Gibbs pulls away and heads for his car, he can’t help but glance over his shoulder to see Jimmy still standing at the door watching him, a huge smile plastered over his face. Gibbs is smiling, too.
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