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Trial under fire	By : printerone Category: M through R > NCIS Views: 2373 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Trial under fire
- 1
Pairing: Jethro Gibbs/Jack O’Neill

Series/Sequel: a one of at the moment. It all Kaiiz’s fault, he brought the subject up.

Disclaimers: Well I certainly don’t own them. If I did, they’d have a lot more fun. Everybody you recognize from the shows belongs to the suits; everyone you don’t belongs to me. This story is written hopefully for the entertainment of fans, certainly not for any money; therefore no copyright infringement is intended. Like anyone would pay me for my writing.

Date: June 2005

Notes: I’ve got hooked on NCIS after a few episodes; and am very much still hooked on Stargate SG-1(a long term obsession). The rabbit that added a new fandom to my repertoire crawled out from under the bed and demanded a fic. Well that was written and I asked Kaiiz if he beta’d NCIS during a discussion about the beta he was doing on some of my Stargate stuff, he said yes…………and sired the present rabbit in his “ ps: can you imagine Gibbs and O'Neill? :D” So there ;D back at ya.

Summary: A very young Marine First Sergeant MP meets an equally young Air Force Black Ops officer in the wake of the 1983 bombing of the Marine Corps barracks in Beirut Lebanon. (Canon states that Gibbs served during Desert Storm {1991 to 1992}, canon also states that O’Neill served during a war with Iraq, I chose to take that as Desert Storm. Both men are ? in their late forties, pushing 50. I decided that both had to join the military at some point so it would not be so far out of reach for Gibbs to be in the Corps in the early 80’s and O’Neill to already be in the Air Force as well having completed a good part of his University education by then.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Beta: Kaiiz Thanks as always for the beta, your help is what makes the fics so much better. I tweaked a little…..again.
Hunkered down in the dark recess of the abandoned building, where the medic team had left him with the pretended duty of keeping this place secure, Gibbs could see the bright glow of the flames outlined against the inky darkness of the night. The burning buildings were all that was left of the Marine Corps barracks in Beirut Lebanon, the skeleton of all the lost souls that had lived there. He’d only been stationed there as a First Sergeant MP squad leader for three months, but during his time he had bonded with the command, the welfare of the Marines housed there a vital part of his existence. And now all of it was gone, blown away in an instant that was seared into his soul as sound, fury and pain, physical, emotional and spiritual. Grunting quietly, Gibbs wrapped his hands painfully around the small thermos of coffee that the naval medic left him and slowly poured a measure into the metal cup. Holding the drink that provided the needed solace for body and soul, he leaned his bruised and battered body back against the rolled up sleeping bag. Suddenly, on high alert, Gibbs stiffened and quickly set down the small metal cup as he silently readied his sidearm; the safety off and readied now for the intruder headed his way.
“To the secured area, Air Force coming in,” a soft Midwestern voice called out.
“Marine Corps in place. ID ready,” Gibbs replied. “Come in slowly.”
“O’Neill, that’s with two L's, stationed 151 st Air Wing out of Ramstadt. Got my ID on me, dog tags too. Carrying a backpack with supplies. Yourself?”
“Gibbs, second B is for bastard, Bravo MP squad, USMC for the barracks.”
“Shit that sucks Gibbs, coming on in. Got my sympathy for the loss of the marines in the barracks. Heard the casualties were heavy. Truck bomb, the initial reports are saying. Extremists already claiming responsibilities. Side arm’s holstered, ID’s out in my left hand ready for inspection Marine.”
Gibbs carefully watched as the other man cautiously approached into the semi-darkness of his post, stopping for 30 seconds or so to allow his eyes to adjust to the decreased ambient light. Mentally he characterised him, a little taller than himself probably, about 6’ 2", mid to late 20’s, sandy brown hair with blond highlights, must have spent a lot of time out in the sun lately. Eye colour unknown as of yet, but he’d bet on brown or hazel, something about guys with that colouring always had either brown or hazel eyes. Medium build, works out regularly... would have to if he really is with the 151 st out of Ramstadt. Gibbs allowed himself a second’s pleasure in the fission of attraction to the other man. If he remembered his generalized units brief, that one was an Air Force special ops unit. Gingerly taking the presented ID Gibbs quickly scanned both the picture and information contained, forearms screaming with pain as muscles he’d avoided using were moved.
“Ah, it’s legit if that’s what you’re looking at or for,” O’Neill said, easing a small back pack off his shoulder. “It’s an ugly assed picture, but the mug’s mine.”
“So I see Captain, but for the moment this is my duty post and I’ve been ordered to keep this spot secure for any and all personnel that may need it,” Gibbs curtly replied. “And seeing how tonight’s gone , I’ll be playing it by the book.”
“Not bitching atcha Sergeant,” O’Neill replied, his grin easy, straightforward and clear. “Just making a comment. Figured you to be holding this place for a reason.” Jumping forward, O’Neill grabbed for the slightly smaller man as he suddenly paled and swayed dizzily. “Whoa, hang on there. You're gonna end up face first on the floor if you’re not careful.”
“Sorry Sir, and it’s First Sergeant Sir,” Gibbs grunted as O’Neill’s hands bit into his forearms, the dressed burns hidden under the sleeves of his uniform throbbed in agony at the firm touch the Air Force Officer applied to hold him up. “Fuck,” he gasped.
“At ease First Sergeant. Damn, but you jarheads have this multiple Sergeant thing down to a file art. Let’s get you down and settled some. Medic sent some meds, must be for you, as well as some more dressings. We’ll get you set up in no time flat,” O’Neill wrapped a strong arm around the other man and led him to where he’d noted a spread out sleeping bag, with another rolled up into a small corner of inner wall left. “Ain’t much is it?”
“But its home for the moment Sir,” Gibbs grounded out as O’Neill gingerly sat him down onto the sleeping bag.
“You'll need to do something with the décor, if you’re going to hang around for long though.”
“Well, the previous decorators left little to be desired Sir,” Gibbs replied. “Burns are on the forearms, Sir. Some of them are starting to bleed through the patch-up the medics did.”
“’Kay, gonna give you a shot of the joy juice first.”
“Prefer not, Sir. Stuff messes with my head.”
“S'okay Marine, I’ll take watch of your six tonight if you can’t. If the burns are as bad as I think they are, morphine’s only going to ease changing your dressing by a small amount. Medic told me to hit you in the vein with this, only way it’s going to do much good. Hope you've got good ones, ‘cause I’m not the best at this.”
“Should have pretty good veins, Sir. Never used them for much more than moving blood around my body,” Gibbs replied as O’Neill helped to ease off his field jacket.
“Looks like you’re not going to have to suffer through me finding veins, Marine. Medics left something here to take care of it.”

==============================================================
“Feeling those meds yet Sarge?”
“Yeah, starting to feeling like I’ve been on a three day bender. Jesus it feels good not to hurt, didn’t realize how bad it was. Best get started, Sir. Morphine doesn’t last very long.”
“Got plenty more where that came from Gibbs. Got first name by the way? If I’m going to start undressing you, Marine, I’d like to know what to call you.”
“Jethro, Captain.”
“Jack, Jethro. For the moment there’s no ranks, no military, so lay back and try to relax as much as you can while I get you fixed up.”
Slowly removing the dressing O’Neill winced as the burns on the other man’s arms were revealed. Quickly he set to work, carrying out the exact instructions that Naval medic had relayed to him. Biting down hard on his lips Gibbs fought hard not to cry out, the morphine only easing a small amount of his pain. Smiling down at the younger man, O’Neill noted the other man’s pain and stoicism. “Almost done Jethro, give you some more drugs as soon as I’m done. Just a little more and I’ll rewrap you.”
“Air Force trained you well in field medicine, Captain,” Gibbs grounded out.
“Teams don’t carry extra personnel; we’re all trained to do all the jobs that are needed to get the missions done.”
“Your team here, Captain?”
“Jack, Jethro. Remember, no ranks at the moment.”
“Right Jack, Fuccccccccckkkkkk,” Gibbs moaned, sweating profusely as the air force officer continued to re-dressed the burn on his arms.
“Yeah Jethro, rest of my team’s here. They’re out there assisting in the S&R for casualties, assessing the threat level and some are even gathering intelligence on the ground. I kind of stick out for the intelligence thing around here, and the real experts were needed in the S&R. Even got a couple of guys who are experts on explosives and demolition. They’ll be able to assess the stability of this structure once the fires are out.”
“You guys in town, or got dropped into?” Gibbs continued talking, trying hard to distance himself from the pain.
“We were close by, just happened to have finished up a mission and were heading back to base when the call came through. Didn’t take much to divert and get dropped in, setting up don’t take long either. Like you marines we’re always ready to do a job. This one was just a little different than our usual. Done with the hurting Jethro, gonna top you with more joy juice.”
Grunting softly as Jack gently eased down the agonizingly throbbing arm down by his side, Gibbs felt the coolness of infused medication enter his vein. The tickle tracked up his arm and soon the slightly disoriented feeling, combined with the blessed, decrease in his pain.

“Better, Marine?”
“”Much Flyboy.” Gibbs with a drug thickened tongue slurred his words and the morphine slowed his ability to think.
Laughing softly, O’Neill cleaned up the medical supplies, replacing each piece into a precise order in the field kit. “How are your supplies Gibbs?”
“What kind of supplies?” Gibbs slowly tried to sit up, disorientation from drugs, pain and exhaustion making his movements slow and clumsy. “Medics left some MRE’s and a small camp stove. Wouldn’t mind some coffee, Sir.”
“Told ya to leave the 'Sir' stuff, Gibbs. It’s Jack, or if that’s too much for you O’Neill works too.”
“With two L's, yeah remembered that.”
“Yeah sure is, and you said Gibbs, where the second B is for bastard. Like that Jethro, going to remember that one. Now about that coffee.”

===============================================================
Soft snores turning to a snorting snuffle woke Gibbs up from his morphine imposed nap, his mouth desert dry and the burns on his forearms relatively quiet. But his bladder was screaming for attention. “Shit,” he muttered as he gingerly moved an arm to remove the infirmary issued blanket off of his shoulders, using a rubbery leg to sit further up.
“Whoa, hang in there Marine Corps. Medics didn’t want you moving around over much,” O’Neill’s voice came from behind.
“What the fuck?” Gibbs complained as a sharp pull on his left arm registered.
“Medics thought you could use some extra fluids, got another two to go before they said you’d get enough to replace the loss from the burns.”
“Fuck, you mean medics were here and I slept through it? Shit, I’m going to get written up and sent to the fucking brig for the rest of my career.”
“Don’t think so Gibbs,” O’Neill replied as he easily helped the other man sit up higher on the cornered pallet. “Where the hell are you going Gibbs?”
“Got to piss O’Neill, been sleeping for a while, and between the drugs and this leash the medics put on me it’s getting really urgent.”
“’Kay Gibbs, let’s get to the luxurious bathroom accommodations,” O’Neill replied as he gently helped the wounded marine to stand, easily unhooking the IV from the field stand that medics had left it on. “Easy now Marine, you don’t want to meet up with the floor do you?”
Shuffling across the open area of the ruined building, O’Neill moved his companion into one of the darkest areas of the ruin. “Thought that this would make the best latrine. Furtherest away, while still in the secured area.”
“Don’t much care at the moment where I piss as long I get to piss right now.”
Cursing softly Gibbs gamely struggled to slip open the button on his pants, the pain in his forearms resurging as he fumbled. Pushing away the fumbling fingers of the marine, O’Neill slipped the button off and easily pulled down the zipper. “You able to handle the rest?”
“Fuck,” Gibbs moaned as he groped inside the open pants, his vision greying out as he swayed wildly.
Grumbling softly, O’Neill again pushed away the clumsy fingers. “You gotta to learn to ask for help Gibbs. What is about you jarheads? Is it some kind of bullshit marine thing that you have to do everything by yourself at all costs?”
Sighing softly as the other man gently handled his cock, easing it from the well washed boxers, Gibbs grimaced, “You flyboys handle each other's cocks regularly, O’Neill?”
“Yeahsureyabetcha, on a daily basis. It’s one of those team building exercises they teach in OCS Gibbs, you jarheads really need to take some lessons on building strong team cohesiveness. Circle jerks and mutual hand jobs are great team building exercises. By the way, nice equipment Jethro, rare for guys our age to be uncut.”
“Fuck off O’Neill, officer or not you’re an asshole. I’m not some dumb assed kid to buy the one about dumb assed flyboys playing 'pass the pecker around' even when you try to sell it with a straight face. Wasn’t circumcised because my family couldn’t affort it, comes from being dirt poor in the Appalachians in the fifties.”
“Careful Gibbs, I’m the one holding the best of you at the moment so watch your mouth,” he chuckled and slowly stroked his fingers along the impressive length of Marine Corps cock, enjoying the twitches it made in his palm. “Best get used to the fact that you need help for the moment, Gibbs. Now, let ’err rip so we can get you laid back down again and get some more joy juice into you.”
===============================================================

“No, no more meds,” Gibbs panted, pale and sweating as he gingerly leaned back against the makeshift pillow O’Neill had arranged for his comfort.
“Wasn’t a suggestion Marine, it was an order.”
“Don’t have to flyboy, you’re not Corps.”
“Actually, First Sergeant, you do. Under the Forward Areas Articles, branch of service doesn’t matter, and rank carries over. Me Captain, you Sergeant, so lay the fuck still. I’m going give you this round of morphine, then there’s an antibiotic to follow. You’ll eat a little afterwards too. I’ll even let you have some coffee, even though the medics said you weren’t to get any more than you’d already had. All this IV stuff should be done by then too.”
“Fuck, I hate this stuff, makes me feel like shit,” Gibbs groused as O’Neill injected the medication slowly.
“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, live with it,” O’Neill groused back.

===============================================================
Shivering, Gibbs tiredly held the small metal cup more firmly in his hands, the smell of MRE instant coffee pathetically weak to his coffee hound nose. “Shit is a piss poor excuse for coffee,” he growled, gingerly sipping.
“Stuff’s crap but the best we can do at the moment. Medics are going to come back for you about 0400, so why don’t you finish up and see if you can get some more shut eye.”
“Won’t be able to sleep, too keyed up now. I won’t be able to turn off until all of the adrenaline has worn off.”
“Fuck, that’s a bitch.”
“Isn’t it?” Gibbs squirmed, the meal he’d eaten settling and the coffee, while not satisfying, was warm and wet. He wondered how he was going to find a way of distracting either himself or the air force officer when the inevitable hard-on that was steadily stirring in his pants became obvious. ‘Goddamn stay still,’ he lambasted his wayward cock.
“You got ants in your pants or something Gibbs?” O’Neill asked as the marine’s movements began to get more and more urgent. “Got to go again? Or is it pain? Need some more joy juice?”
“No,” Gibbs replied, his voice deepening. “Don’t need any more junk, and don’t need to piss.”
“Then what’s your fucking problem? You’re worse than a two year old for sitting still.”
“Fuck off O’Neill, it’s been a really shitty day and I’m trying to wind down. Okay?” Gibbs growled, restlessly shifting.
“Ah shit,” he cried out as he slid over hard onto his side, his precarious balance giving out on him and protectively cradled his burned arms close.
“Damn it Gibbs,” O’Neill scrambled over, fitting his body close to the other man’s. “Settle down Marine,” he hissed as the other man tried shifting away. “What is your fucking problem?” Reaching gently under arms that Gibbs cradled against his chest O’Neill pulled him closer, setting the other man square onto his lap.
“O’Neill,” Gibbs twisted and turned, attempting to get away and off of the other man’s lap before O’Neill realized the nature of his problem.
“Not feverish,” O’Neill assessed, as he slipped his hands under the wounded marine’s tee shirt, the lightly furred skin of Gibb’s stomach feeling blessedly cool and well-muscled, stirring an interest in O’Neill libido. The tight abs twitched nervously under O’Neill’s touch. Gibbs attempted to weakly push away from the other man, his cammos tightening to outline the hardening cock to O’Neill’s gaze. “Ah, so that’s the problem. We’ll get that taken care PDQ.”
“What?” gasped Gibbs, his face flushed brightly, fine shivers running up and down his body.
“Let me guess, first time you’ve been under real fire?” O’Neill asked as he pulled the other man closer, arranging Gibbs just so that both men would be comfortable. “ Happens jarhead, adrenaline wears off and the body reacts. Doesn’t make you different or less of a man, a physical reaction is all that it is. Doesn’t make you a queer if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Already one,” Gibbs muttered, slumping back and weary from his attempts to move away.
“Want to tell me what the hell that means?”
“You going to beat the shit out of me for the answer? Going to turn me in for being a fag, get me a dishonourable discharge?”
“No, I’m not Jethro. Guess I should tell you a little about me. Since I hit my teens and realized what sex was all about I found that I like both sides of the fence, guys and girls, both equally. Guy I met once told me it’s called bisexuality, most call it switch-hitters. So see, I’m not going turn you in, because then I’d have to turn myself in, and trust me I love the USAF too much to do that.”
“I don’t believe this,” Gibbs mumbled. “Un-fucking-believable. Same boat here flyboy, switch hitter too. But I’ve buried it since I joined up, in fact I married my high school girlfriend just after boot. She’s stateside living in married enlisted quarters at Lejeune, the Corps is too important to me to let that part out of the closet it’s in.”

“Got you a choice then Gibbs, you can accept help from me, or you can suffer until the problem goes down on its own. And whatever your choice and what subsequently happens here stays here.”
“Don’t think that I can ask O’Neill.”
“You asked Gibbs, you just didn’t think that you did.”
Half turning on O’Neill’s lap Gibbs’ icy blues eyes met the soft brown gaze of the other man. “Then it’s a definite please Jack, getting a case of blue balls here.”
Laughing softly, O’Neill gently brushed his lips against Gibbs’, a soft exploratory kiss that quickly became so much more. Mewling deep in his throat Gibbs squirmed closer to his new lover, all thoughts of Jennifer forgotten, as he slowly and painfully began to push the camouflage jacket off of O’Neill’s shoulders. “Shit,” Gibbs moaned, his arms dropping back onto the sleeping bag. “Don’t think I’m going to be able to participate too much in this with my hands or arms.”
“Enthusiasm counts Gibbs, for a lot, and there are a bunch of things we can do without you using your hands. Lay back, yeah that’s good,” O’Neill grinned wolfishly as he pushed up Gibbs’ tee shirt, mouth and tongue following the upward path of the beige cotton shirt, twisting the material into the neckline and stretching it low to reveal a strong well muscled chest with large brown nipples puckering in the coolness of the evening. Slurping loudly, he eagerly sucked at the flat brown nipple, standing proudly in the mostly hairless chest, its mate waiting eagerly for his ministrations. His other hand wandered down Gibbs’ flat belly, fingering the shallow navel and laughing softly as the other man’s hips moved restlessly. Arching upwards, Gibbs groaned eagerly, “Shit yeah that’s good.”
“Damn right it’s good Marine,” O’Neill replied, nipping his way along Gibbs jaw, stopping to lick and suck just below the other man’s ear, all the while rubbing his thigh over the other man’s groin. His movements caused the rthymic tightening of his own pants over the rapidly hardening cock trapped within them, the head leaving an ever growing wet spot in his boxers as precum seeped out. Sitting up, O’Neill quickly pulled off his own tee shirt, dog tags clinking as they settled back against his chest, pink nipples peeking through whorls of hair. “Can’t get us as naked as I’d like,” he panted as he ripped free the metal buckle of his belt and shoved down his zipper, freeing his anxious cock from it’s clothed prison with a harsh groan. He threw his head back as his arousal grew, with his hand stroking slowly up and down his organ. “And I can’t fuck you either,” O’Neill said regretfully.
“Nice,” Gibbs hissed, his mouth watering as his lover revealed a tasty cock for his enjoyment. He was waiting almost impatiently for his first taste of cock in a long time. “Want a taste of that flyboy.”
“Oh yeah Marine, sixty nine, works for me. Works real well for me, would have liked to fuck that fine ass of yours but that’s not possible,” O’Neill replied as he reluctantly released his own cock, to slide open the metal buckle of Gibbs' belt. Enthusiastically he reached in to pull out the cock he’d secretly wanted a taste of earlier when he’d helped the other man relieve himself; nostrils flaring at the scent of raw musky arousal coming from the other man’s groin. Easing himself down onto his side O’Neill helped the other man gingerly turn on his side until both were faced with an eager hard cock. Greedily, Gibbs opened his mouth, sucking eagerly the salty bitterness of O’Neill’s pre-cum. Bucking his hips forward he drove his cock deep into the warm, moist eagerly working mouth. Gibbs panted and moaned loudly, the pleasure intensifying, his cock growing harder, pre-cum dripping copiously in a fine stream. O’Neill swallowed almost continuously, his tongue and throat muscles massaging the soft rounded head of Gibbs' shaft. Gibbs’ tongue slithered sensuously, twined around the thick cock in his mouth, teeth gently catching at the rounded cockhead on each of his upstrokes and pulling just enough that the pain increased O’Neill’s pleasure with each stroke. Feeling the electric tingle start deep at the base of his spine, Gibbs sucked harder at the cock in his mouth, needing to feel the other man cum as badly as he himself needed to cum. Reaching around the erratically moving hips, O’Neill slipped a finger down the sweaty cleft between Gibbs’ ass cheeks, searching for the hidden entrance there. Gibbs moaned deep in his throat as the other man’s fingers slowly began to press against the tightly clenched pucker. “Ease up Marine, just gonna finger fuck you a little,” O’Neill rumbled deeply, lips nibbling lightly at the deeply flushed cockhead.
“Damn…..Jack,” Gibbs cried out as his cock was swallowed deep and the finger playing at this entrance roughly shoved deep inside of his body, his vision first greying out before pleasure exploded through his body. Sucking hard with the last of his waning strength O’Neill’s thick cock rewarded him with a large spurt of seed, hotly branding his throat.
Quickly checking over the other man, and noting that no new injuries from their activities had occurred, O’Neill wetted the small field do rag he carried, cleaned off his own cock first and quickly redressed. Re-wetting the cloth, he affectionately cleaned the other man’s cock, ball sac and anus of all evidence of their activities before redressing the sleeping marine.
===============================================================
Gently shaking Gibb’s shoulder, O’Neill called, “Gibbs, come on Marine, time to wake up. The Medics are here.
“What?” Gibbs asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. “O’Neill?”
“Yeah me Gibbs. Come on, time to wake up for the nice medics. They’re here to get you seen too. You’re being evac’d out to the hospital ship that's anchored just outside of territorial waters in the Med. Hear it’s not a bad billet.”
“If we can get in Sir, we need to transfer the First Sergeant to the litter,” the young naval medic said as he knelt down by Gibbs and quickly examined him. “Choppers are going to want to get in and out real quick.”
“Load him up, Seaman. My team is set and ready to cover your sixes when we get out into the open,” O’Neill replied.
Moaning softly as the medics efficiently moved him to the light stretcher, Gibbs swallowed hard as pain awoke with each breath. “Easy First Sergeant, soon as we get you on board the chopper, we’ll give you a dose of pain meds," the older medic promised as he patted Gibbs’ shoulder. “We’re ready to move out Captain.”
“Let’s go then,” O’Neill ordered.
Moving quickly over the uneven ground the litter swayed alarmingly as Gibbs’ gritted his teeth, the pain now as constant as each breath he took. Swallowing hard, he gasped as the men suddenly stopped and the litter was quickly lowered to the ground, dust still swirling in the air, from the large evac chopper.
“Captain O’Neill," he called out.
“Yeah, Sergeant,” O’Neill replied, moving through the milling Naval medics, Fleet Marine security and five out-of-place Air Force personnel.
“Wanted to thank you for your help Sir,” Gibbs formally intoned, paling as he painfully raised an arm in formal salute.
“Wouldn’t say it was a pleasure Marine, but the Air Force was more than glad to help,” O’Neill said. “Good luck Gibbs. Medics move’em out.”
“Thank you Sir,” Gibbs answered as he slowly lowered the saluting arm to cradle it against his side.
“First Sergeant, we’re going to be loading you up now,” a tall blonde naval medic announced as he and three others surrounded the litter Gibbs laid on, lifting it easily into the large open belly of the evac chopper. Closing his eyes, Gibbs surrendered to the pain and slid into unconsciousness.
- 1
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Trial under fire