A dream is just a dream until you make it come true.
"Jethro, get some sleep." Ducky turned off the overhead lights, leaving Jethro in darkness, and walked to his Autopsy table where a sole light shone.
Before he began his task, he glanced at his sleeping friend. How he wished Jethro were sleeping somewhere else, with Ducky by his side. Or better still, not sleeping, but -
He stopped the thought before it could percolate into something more. It was a foolish thought, a pointless and impossible one.
Nonetheless despite what he knew, despite his brain telling him it was an unattainable desire, he couldn't stop thinking, he couldn't stop dreaming. He couldn't stop wishing for the day when Jethro would look at him and see him as more than just his oldest, closest friend. Would look at him and see that Ducky loved him beyond the love of friendship. And not only see it, but return the feeling.
But it was never going to happen. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not going to wake up one day and want Ducky in the way Ducky wanted him to want him. He was going to have to be content with friendship. And he was, really he was.
He was content with the closeness of their relationship, the intimacy they shared, what else did he need? Would kissing Jethro, being held by him as a lover, touching his naked body, being caressed by him, being made love to by him, really make that much of a difference? Wasn't friendship more important than sex?
Of course it was.
Ducky knew that. He believed it.
Nonetheless he knew something else too: he was not too old to dream.
But a dream it would remain, a beautiful, tender, cherished dream.
With a soft sigh he turned his attention away from his sleeping friend and began his task.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Set during Yankee White. Ducky is watching Gibbs sleep. And he is thinking.