Just something I wrote trying to get rid of writers block. Hope you all enjoy it. Read and review as always.

They ain't mine!

I need him, I want him, I absolutely have to have him. His touch, his look, the way he feels under my finger tips in those all to brief moments where I actually get to touch him. I have always wanted the man with the silver hair and deep blue eyes. And, more than that, I need him. He is my protector, my best friend. I just hope that one day he will be mine. From what I see today though, that will be a long way off. There is a new one now, slightly younger than all the rest. She gives me hope when it comes to the age difference between us. He is old enough to be my father, but by today's standards, that is not something to be ashamed of. Older men date younger women all the time.

I have tried to rationalize it, to make the thoughts go away. They won't budge. They just leave me here with nothing better to think about than my boss claiming me on the floor of the elevator or some other fucked up reality that will never be mine. Then my mind starts to wonder and I often start thinking of what it would be like to be the one he goes home with. To be the one that he curls up next to when he sleeps. Is he a cuddler? I wonder that a lot. I like to cuddle, I wonder if he does. Sometimes I honestly think I might just love him so much it's going to eventually kill me, but then I realize how stupid that really does sound.

The new one is gone. Maybe she was too young. I haven't talked to him about it yet. I always talk to him about it, just to make sure he really is as okay as he always lets on. Gibbs is tough, but no one likes to be let go from a relationship. I might go over there tonight.

I find myself standing on his front porch, knocking on the door knowing I can just walk on in. I don't though. Normally I would, but on these nights when I come to check on him, I knock and wait for him. He always knows why I am there when I do that. An expectant look follows the opening of the door. He knows. There is a bottle of Wild Turkey in my hand, the Rare Breed like he likes.

I have been here for five hours now, drinking and talking with the man I love and it has been torture to not tell him. I take two more shots and suddenly all is right with the world and it won't matter anymore if he knows how feel. So I let it slip. My mouth explodes like a fucking bomb because I am too wasted to stop it. And the moment the words "I have always loved you" come flying out of my mouth, he has me pinned to the couch, my arms trapped above my head as his lips crash onto mine. And suddenly I know. He loves me too, he always has. He just wanted me to say it first. And I couldn't be happier to have done so.