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Seeking Rest

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Summary: Two men out for a quite drink find each other, and something more.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
NCIS > Xander-Centered > Pairing: Jethro GibbsMissEFR21616,872347319,55628 Aug 105 Sep 10Yes

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Seeking Rest

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS

A/N: This takes place several years post 'Chosen', and is not Season 8 compliant. This will be slash, the relationship being Xander/Gibbs.


Gibbs settled onto the barstool, and looked around him. It was dark here, and quiet, which is why he liked it. None of his team knew about this place. Not even Fornell, pretty much his only friend, knew about this bar. It was just a bar, but it was quiet, and it was unknown, and that was all Gibbs needed from it.

He glanced at the man sitting to his right, playing with a shot of some unknown liquor. Shoulders hunched, head down, he looked like a man sunk in his thoughts. He debated within himself, then shrugged. “Come here often?” he asked quietly.

The other man started, and turned to look at him. Gibbs frowned when he saw the other man's eyepatch. “Hey, didn't mean to startle you,” he offered.

The other man shook his head. “My fault,” he grimaced. “Not used to having people talk to me in places like this. Name's Xander,” he offered, holding out his hand.

Gibbs shook the hand, and returned his own name. “It's a bit rough,” he agreed.

Xander snorted. “Yeah. Rough.” He shook his head. “I spent two years in Africa, where I was the only white man for hundreds of miles. They called me 'the crazy white fella,'” he grinned. “This,” he waved, “is nice.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. “Africa. That is rough. What were you doing there?”

“Might be easier to say what I wasn't doing. I wasn't running drugs, gems or weapons. Um... I wasn't training militia, or fighting in any of the asinine wars going on over there. What else wasn't I doing?” he frowned. “Ha!” he announced. “I sure as hell wasn't eating any Twinkies!”

Gibbs grinned. “A long way from civilisation, then?”

“Then I went to England. No golden, creamy goodness there, either,” he groused.

“And now you're back? Sounds like the bar in front of you should be full of them. Or their empty wrappers.”

Xander shook his head. “I get back, find the nearest shop, and buy a box of them. Stuff one in my mouth, and swallow. Five seconds later, I'm puking the whole damn thing back up. My wonderful, fulfilling time in Africa, it seems,” he admitted through gritted teeth, “means that I can no longer tolerate the blessed things.”

“Ah, hell,” Gibbs shook his head, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xander grunted. “Yuck it up.” He shifted on his seat. “So what's your war story?”

“Me? Never had much of sweet tooth. Of course, I had to live on MRE's in Iraq, and nobody on God's green Earth can tell me they're food,” he snorted.

“No, no,” Xander agreed. “I've done my time with MRE's and I'm right there with you on that.”

Gibbs looked around. “You want to go to a table? That way you don't have to turn around like that all the time.”

Xander looked at the man for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah. Could do that.”

That agreed, the shifted off their stools, and found a booth at the back of the bar. After a moment's hesitation, Gibbs let the other man take the seat with the best view of the door, and slid around so he could at least see most of the bar and near the door.

“So what did you do in Iraq?” Xander asked.

“Marine Corps.”

“Semper Fi,” Xander offered.

“You were a Marine?” Gibbs asked, puzzled. The man had to be in his mid-twenties, and could have served, but something didn't seem right about that.

“Nah. Knew someone, though. I think he was in Iraq, too. '90-'91, right?”


Xander nodded. “He was into explosives. Taught me everything I know,” he grinned.

“Sniper,” Gibbs offered.

Xander considered that, and nodded. “An important position. It's always good to have someone around who can lower the odds before you engage face-to-face.”

“You never served?”

Xander stilled, and looked at Gibbs, as if weighing his options. “Not in any country's armed forces,” he murmured.

“Or militias, or rebel groups?” Gibbs asked, thinking back to what the younger man had said earlier.

“I have never gone to war against any man, woman or child,” he said carefully.

Gibbs looked down at his drink, then back up to the man across from him. “That is a remarkably specific statement,' he observed. “Makes me to wonder what exactly it is that you're leaving out.”

Xander sighed. “What I do is … acknowledged, but only at certain levels, and under certain conditions. I cannot talk about it. Any laws I do break are tolerated by the countries I break the laws in, because they know what I do, and why I do it. I have killed, but only ever in defence of self or another. I don't expect to live forever. Hell,” he snorted, “I'm seriously surprised I'm still alive now.” He shrugged. “What I do is important. To important to talk about. Important enough for me to die, if that's what it takes.”

“I'm surprised you're telling me even this much,” Gibbs frowned.

“I like your eyes,” Xander decided. “You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Yours tell me you could be a right bastard if the situation called for it, but your people trust you, don't they?”


“You live your life by your own rules, and you look after your own.”

Gibbs nodded. “You're pretty good at reading people.”

“I lived in a war zone, even though I didn't know it, growing up. You … pick up things. I see things, and not just people. Probably the only reason I'm still alive.”

“You sound like you grew up in California. What part of there is a war zone?”

Xander shook his head. “It doesn't exist anymore, thank God. Our own little piece of Hell went bye-bye a few years ago.”

“So what now?”

“The war goes on. Right in front of peoples eyes, and they never see it. It'd be funny if weren't so fucking sad.”

“I don't understand,” Gibbs shook his head.

“Don't. Don't try.” Xander sighed, and looked around. “Look, it was great talking to you, and all, but I need to get out of here. I need to find … someone.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Someone to fuck,” Xander returned baldly. “Male, female, don't care. I just need to … stop thinking for a while, okay?”

Gibbs looked at the table-top, and thought about something he'd done, though not often. “What about me?” he asked.

“Don't ask, don't tell?”

The older man shrugged. “If you just want an anonymous face, I'm not the one to ask. If you want true love, I'm not good for that, either,” he half-grinned. “Three divorces and counting,” he added. “But...”

“I'm not up for a comfort fuck,” Xander warned.

“Neither am I. There's a name,” he snapped his fingers, trying to recall. “One of my team referred to it.”

“'Friends with benefits?'”

“That's the one,” Gibbs agreed. “So. Interested?”

Xander looked him over again, this time considering him as a lover. Fit, attractive, and with some experience with men. A warrior like himself. A hard man, someone he didn't need to hide from, apart from the obvious. Someone he could be free with, even more so that his girls, or Giles. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “I'm interested.”

“You got a place?”

“Hotel room, not far,” Xander nodded, and the two men stood, and drained their drinks. Together they left the bar, Gibbs automatically going to Xander's blind side. The made small talk until they reached Xander's room.

Xander turned to Gibbs. “How much experience do you have?”

“Not much. Only fucked. Never been fucked.”

Xander chuckled. “Now why doesn't that surprise me?” he asked, teasing.

Gibbs snorted. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the purple tutu and fuzzy slippers I was wearing.”

Xander laughed, then closed the gap. Reaching up, he cupped Gibbs face. “I don't care which way I go. Either way is fun for me. If you're not comfortable on the bottom, I'm fine with that,” he murmured before kissing the other man.

Gibbs reached up and threaded his fingers through the other man's unruly waves before deepening the kiss. He tasted Xander's whisky and searched the reaches of the younger man's mouth before breaking the kiss. “You got stuff?” he asked.

“In my bag.”

Releasing the other man, Gibbs shrugged out of his jacket, and then his shirt, before toeing off his shoes. He turned to look at the younger man, and watched as he, also, shrugged out of his jacket. He walked over, careful to appear on Xander's right side. He glanced down a the side-table, and nodded at the supplies, before returning his attention to the young man before him. He unbuttoned Xander's shirt, and removed it, before tugging his undershirt up and off. He frowned when he saw Xander's chest. “That's a lot of scars,” he murmured.

Xander flinched back. “We don't have to do this,” he offered, dropping his head.

“Hey,” Gibbs shushed, cupping Xander's cheek, pushing him up to look him in the eye. “I'm just stating a fact. That's a lot of scars. It makes me wonder just what the hell you've been doing, and for how long. It doesn't turn me off.” He ran his hand down Xander's shoulder and arm. “It shows me you're a survivor.”

Xander huffed. “They say scars make girls hot. Never seems to work for me.”

Gibbs gave up on words at that, and stepped forward, running his hand through Xander's hair again, and kissed him, slow and deep.

Without further words, they undressed and tumbled onto the bed. Gibbs rolled Xander onto his back, and nudged his legs apart before settling between Xander's thighs. Xander groaned when Gibbs shifted, and brought their cocks together. He drew his knees up, planted his feet on the bed, and thrust back up against the older man. Gibbs growled, and grabbed Xander's hip to hold him still as he lined their cocks up, and rocked.

Xander tossed his head back. “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned. “More. Want you in me,” he ground out.

Gibbs reached out and found a condom, which he opened and rolled onto his own aching cock, before grabbing the lubricant and squeezing a good amount onto his fingers. “You want this?” he asked.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Xander moaned.

Catching the younger man's lips, he reached down, and began to work a finger into his entrance. Xander moaned, and rocked against him, working the finger in deeper. “Easy there, soldier,” Gibbs warned.

“No patience,” Xander panted.

Gibbs shrugged, and worked another finger in while he latched onto Xander's nipple. Xander's restless hands ran over Gibbs' back and shoulders, scratched lightly through his scalp, and started again. Gibbs worked quickly, Xander's desperation clear. He found Xander's prostate, and rubbed, causing him to buck and yell. Smirking, he worked three fingers in, and rubbed again.

“For fuck's sake, Gibbs, just do it, will you?” Xander demanded.

“Pushy bottom,” Gibbs teased before tugging at his nipple. Still, he pulled his hand out, and coated his dick before lining up with the hole, and pushing in.

Xander groaned, and writhed languorously while Gibbs slowly pushed all the way in. He laid his head on the younger man's shoulder, and rested a moment, revelling in the feel of the tight channel. Soon, Xander began to shift, and ran his hands up Gibbs' back.

“When you're ready,” he murmured.

Gibbs rewarded him with a kiss, and a withdrawal before a hard thrust. Xander arched his back, and threw back his head, grinning. Gibbs grabbed the younger man's hip again, and began to thrust in earnest. Resting his head against Xander's shoulder again, he set up a punishing rhythm. Deep thrusts, finding and hitting the prostate with agonising regularity, it wasn't long before Xander was lost.

Nails scraped against skin, enough to mark, not enough to break, while the two men panted and moaned. Hard muscle shone as sweat accumulated. Gibbs released Xander's hip to reach between them and grasp his cock. With almost desperate fervour, he stripped the other man's cock, wanting to bring him off.

Suddenly, Xander felt his balls draw up and his gut tighten. His head dropped back again, as his body bucked up, and he cried out hoarsely, shooting out over their bellies and chests. With a loud groan and a muffled curse, Gibbs succumbed in reaction to Xander's orgasm, thrusting hard into the other man. Several thrusts later, he collapsed, panting, waiting for his heart to slow.

Xander's hands resumed their long caress of Gibbs' back, no longer hurried by passion. He smiled. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“No problem, Xan. I got your back.”

He reached up and stroked Gibbs' face. “Yeah. You do, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Smiling, Xander nodded, then sighed. He shifted, and Gibbs to it for a sign, and pulled out, taking care of the condom. He removed it and disposed of it before returning to the bed. Xander reached out, and pulled him down on top of him. “Apparently I snore,” he confessed. “Just hit me when I do that.”

Gibbs smiled. “Fine.” He reached down and pulled up the covers.

Xander reached for the light. “Night.”

“Night, Xan.”
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