A/N: …It is almost 2:30 in the morning here, and I'm writing more prompt-induced drabbles. Though I guess I brought this one on myself. But anyway. I digress.
"'Cause I can't make you love me, if you don't. You can't make your heart feel something it won't. Here in the dark, these final hours. I will lay down my heart and I feel the power. But you don't. No you don't," ('Can't Make You Love Me' by Bon Iver), angst, and Diane/Gibbs (ship-named Dibbs by moi) were my prompts from Alivia on tumblr.
This takes place pre-series, the night before the divorce between these two is finalized.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original plot details or characters.
She knew he would be in the basement.
He was always in the basement, mourning Shannon and Kelly, and ignoring her. He had avoided most of their marriage in that basement, drowning himself in his dirty, disgusting old mason jars of bourbon. She'd never be able to look at that alcohol the same way ever again because of him.
She descended the stairs, heels clicking on each weathered step as she made her way to the bottom, finding him with his back pressed against his worn work bench. She reached the basement floor and stopped, folding her arms over her chest as she looked at him.
She couldn't help noticing how tired he looked.
"Leroy."
"What do you want, Diane?" he asked, his voice hard as he held his jar of amber liquid, the grimy mason jar gripped tightly in his hand. "Why are you here?"
"I came to get my last few boxes," she replied, her voice just as biting as she glared. "I should have guessed you'd be down here. You spent most of our marriage in this basement."
"Because you didn't want me up there!" he replied, standing up and leaving his jar on the bench, taking a few long strides to bridge the distance between them, towering over her. His overwhelming scent of sweat, sawdust, and bourbon intoxicated her, and any resolve or anger dissolved in an instant as she inhaled.
His eyes searched her face, two dark blue pools that she was lost in as soon as she looked back at him. She bit her lip, in way over her head when he leaned in and-
They wound up in bed. It was what they were best at.
The sex was intense and angry and good. It was their best yet, made even more bitter by the fact that it was their last time.
She left him sleeping, grabbing her last few boxes on the way out. The house was silent, so like their marriage, and she heaved a sigh as she made her way to her car.
The streets were eerily silent as she drove through the gray-misted morning; DC wasn't quite awake yet. Her belongings were in the backseat, and she reflected as she went along.
She couldn't make him love her if he didn't. She wasn't Shannon, and she wasn't Jenny, his redheaded partner that had caught his eye. She was almost positive they were sleeping together, but that wasn't her problem anymore.
Leroy wasn't her problem anymore.
Her heart ached in her chest as she drove, farther and farther away from the man that was almost her ex-husband. She'd given him her heart, and he hadn't taken it, hadn't cherished it; had merely thrown it away.
Well she was done, finished, through with him. Leroy Gibbs was not her burden to bear anymore; he was on his own.
But her chest still ached at the mention of his name, the memory of his kiss, his scent, his touches sent a wildfire throughout her body. She wished to be rid of him but she was like a school girl with a crush- addicted.
She needed to bury her feelings; bury them deep down so that no one could find them, not even herself. Not even Leroy.
No one could ever know that she loved him the way he loved Shannon.