Title: While She Lay Sleeping.
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Angst
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs
Rating: M. (because I can)
Timeline: Not sure
Spoilers: No obvious spoilers – I think.
Summary: Wanting the unobtainable often has its consequences…
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys.
A/N: This is Missy's retaliation to The Gabby Effect's Fic While He Was Dreaming – there was just no way she was gonna let it end at that. Best read that one first to establish the mood; here is the link s/9870924/1/While-he-was-dreaming
Written: November 2013
Language: International English.
Word Count: 3,408
*·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·. GABBY .·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·*
Jethro sat in his basement, glaring at the block of wood in front of him, hoping for some sense of inspiration, but nothing came to him, no inspiration or spark of something that said "Create me," and he knew why that was. However, knowing what caused it and discovering why it had happened, were two entirely different things. And when it came to Abby it was even harder, because he just had no way of knowing what was going on in her head as of late. Ever since that morning, that one particular morning she had once again asked him a question he could not openly answer; for the answer itself posed too many complications, and it was the probable complications he felt ill equipped to cope with.
For the last few years they had maintained a routine; a safe, somewhat predictable routine. One which had given him a lot more of her that he had ever hoped he could have, but it had also come at a price; one he had willingly paid, if only to have her close.
And ever since that morning, their arrangement had come to naught. The simple pleasure he had experienced from simply by holding her, of breathing in her scent and falling asleep with the knowledge that she was safe – and where he wanted her most – had been ripped to shreds, leaving him hollow inside.
There, in her bed, he had everything he needed to keep him content, but he was uncertain whether she would understand that, or how it was that he only really slept when she allowed him to hold her. Sleep, that was another thing he had not gotten much of lately, and it had started to show with the regularity he barked at his team – especially when they were ribbing each other, and even more so since her announcement that she was dating again.
That announcement had jolted him far greater than a bucket of ice water upended over his head could have. Her words had hit him, hard, and he was still trying to establish what had happened, or how and why it had happened.
This time, it was not so much his concern for her safety that ate him. It was the fact that she might take someone home, that another man would be permitted into her bed and would have the freedom to indulge in the pleasures he had held back on. He had even, for a split second, considered that that might be what she had meant that morning. It would not surprise him; she was young and would have desires and urges, heaven alone knew he had those same urges, but it would have taken only a word, a gesture and he would have indulged her – in anything.
He had spent so many nights fighting his body's inevitable reaction to her presence, her warmth. At first, he had carefully, diligently, kept a distance between their lower bodies. For first few nights, he had lain awake for most of the night; it had only been with time that he could treat his staying over as casual. But never the kisses, they were the one thing he could indulge in, just as he had drawn in her scent, its familiarity, solacing.
So many times he had hoped that she would somehow, in some way, let him know if she needed more. Also that she would give him some indication that it meant as much to her, or that she would welcome further attentions from him, but it never happened, even though she had always welcomed him to her bed.
He felt a band tighten around his heart at that, for she no longer welcomed him there, for all intents and purposes he'd been cast from it, for several weeks already, and he still could not figure out what had brought it on. If anything she was more distant now that she had ever been, even back when they had first started working together, something that irked him, considerably.
He released a mournful sigh. The side that had always known there could never be more between them had finally won the battle, and he let it, for it made it easier to accept. Anything was easier to accept than the possibility that she could have rejected him had he pushed for more… although Abby would never be as callous as some women, and she would let him down in the most gentlest of ways – only because she did not like hurting anyone. But rejection was rejection, and when it comes from someone who had crept into your heart as deep as she had his, someone who had taken up residence there, there was no way of contemplating how to get over it. Therefore it was for the best, because this way he would always be there for her, in some capacity; and if someone broke her heart, he would bust his face – because no man had the right to break his girl's heart.
Shifting the block of wood out of the way he looked about the basement, his haven. So often, in the past, she had visited him there, and every one of those moments were precious to him, no matter what the circumstance.
She had looked cute in his shirt that first night she had stayed over: it was that night that she had really crept into his heart. That was when he had wanted her to become his.
There were other times, like when she had come around on the holidays - to ensure he had enough to eat, or to watch the football game. He never felt alone, or lonely, when she had been around. Yet he had always known that she would one day find someone. Someone she could dote on, like a mother hen, because for all her quirkiness, she actually wanted, needed someone to dote on.
Just as he had always known that she would be better off with someone younger, someone who could offer her more than him; a loving home, a devoted companion and possibly children…. It was the last that got to him most, because for all of the moments they had shared, for all of the times they had been together, and for every intimacy they had not shared, that was not one he could see her sharing with another. He did not even want to contemplate the possibility, because that would mean that she would have to… and just the thought, the possibility, got his blood boiling.
He knew that she could be doing that very thing right at that moment, also that he had no right to say anything about it.
A thought that further depressed him, only because he knew she'd had a date scheduled for that evening… he had heard her mention it to Tony earlier – not that he had mean to eavesdrop.
Dropping his face into his palms, he fought against the overwhelming sense of desolation that filled him, and wondered if it was even possible to un-lose a friend; especially given he had never had or lost her in the first place.
Confused, he rose from his seat and turned out the overhead lamp before making for the stairway. A few paces later, he halted at the exact place where she had been standing that night; when she had asked whether he would still love her – no matter what. Even back then he had not known what to say, for she had uncovered his biggest secret, something that she should have hated him for and should have sent her running for the hills – because he was a killer. Instead she asked if he would still love her... he always has, always will. With her, his love came unconditionally. It was as easy to love her as it was to breathe, or say her name.
As for the hugs and kisses, he had never really needed a reason, but that is also something that had recently stopped – not because he didn't want to, he was always willing. It was because he had gotten the impression from her that they were now unwanted. Something that scared him, immensely, because Abby has always willing to share affection. He would have to watch her with Tony, for he knew that she still shared a close relationship with him. McGee was no indication, for there was very little physical interaction between them, but Tony, as of late, had been more physical – something he to some extent could understand since Ziva's departure. But knowing and understanding it did not restrain the possessive side of his nature, which seemed to kick in whenever any man was within touching distance of her.
The thought of the two of them had him clench his hands, not having thought about it before, possibly because he had not wanted to contemplate something like that. But with Ziva gone, and their shared conversations, there were just too many things lining up, pointing towards the possibility. Grinding his teeth, Gibbs vowed that he would head-slap Tony right into the next week if he touched Abby.
The week that followed harboured no change in what had become the new status-quo. Her distance towards him remained constant, with her routine having remained the same; bowling with the nuns, two nights a week for dates; which had also confirmed that it was not Tony – for he had other engagements. And from what he could determine, none of her dates got past first date status, but it still troubled him that she was looking, and actively so. Although no one mentioned anything to him, he knew it would not be long before Mr Right showed up.
It was about a week later that his phone once again buzzed late the evening. His heart dropped to his feet; in the past it had signified her summons, that she wanted him to join her, or at least that there was good chance of that. This time it would, in all likelihood, be another case; another murder needing to be solved. Even though that was one thing he has always been thankful for – her dedication to her work – he tried to still the elation at the thought that it would bring her evening with whomever to an end.
He picked up the phone, and froze in place. The massage was one he was so intimately familiar with, one he had taken for granted on so many other occasions. And this time it sent his heart racing, as much as her request had that first time she had asked to stay with him the night.
His feet made for the door, long before any form of coherent thought could take hold, well other than to turn out the lights before closing the door behind him. The chauvinistic male side of him warred; wanting to deny her his presence, so that she could know what it felt like. Although the other side, that which could never deny Abby anything, urged him to move it, just in case she changed her mind.
He drove to her place as if in a trance, uncertain as to what he would find. and was hesitant to use his key; it had been a long time since he had last been there, and even a longer time since he had last touched or kissed her. His entry was therefore familiar, but also new in a way.
He closed and locked the door, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, just to ensure that she had not changed the layout of the room, and then made for her bedroom.
The bedside lamps were on, just like they have always been, with his t-shirt laying on the edge of the bed. The only difference was that this time she looked nervous, and he was uncertain as to why that was.
He for a moment wondered if she might have thought that he would not come to her, as if he would pass up the chance of spending the night with her.
He dropped his keys next to hers, kicked off his shoes, and got ready for bed. Slipping between the sheets, he for a moment stiffed at the thought that someone else could have been there, since, but fought down his desire to ask her. He settled behind her, as he had so many times before. His nose brushed against her neck, drawing in a deep breath as he welcomed her familiar scent, the familiar warmth that settled over him, and the usual contentedness that followed. Yet this time there was a sense of unease that remained, a fear that this could be the last time.
She snuggled back into him, as she has done so many times in the past. A contented sigh escaping her lips as she settled to sleep.
He held her, until she had drifted off, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts; Why had she called him? Why did she need him to hold her – especially since she had for weeks made it clear she wanted to establish some distance between them? Had someone hurt her? Did she feel threatened, and for some reason needed him to be there for her? The last thoughts got to him the most, causing him to tighten his hold on her, regardless of what she had done before or what her reasons for it was, he had promised to keep her safe… and would have it out with her in the morning.
He settled behind her, his slumber light. Every time she moved he would wake, glance around the room to ensure that everything was okay, before resettling.
Her movements against him had the predictable effect on his body, and in the early hours of the morning he shifted some, to allow for some distance between their lower bodies. To little avail, for she sought his warmth and followed his movements, which had him grunt in frustration, fighting down the urge to grind against her, to at least gain some respite from his torture.
It was just after dawn that she once again turned towards him as she had so many times before. The action had him almost cheer in relief, for the position allowed for some distance between their lower bodies, and gave him the opportunity to beat down his desires.
He felt her hand brush over his heart, the caress soft, light, trusting even. It caused him to shift his head, opening his eyes to look at her, saw how her gaze followed the movements of her hand. His movement caused her to look up at him, the open, unguarded honesty of her expression knocked him back. But it was only there for a fleeting moment, yet enough to have his heart race. Her gaze lowered almost immediately, which left him to wonder for how long he had missed that. His hand shifted and came to rest against her cheek, causing her to look up at him. Without thought for consequence, or that he could possibly be making the biggest mistake of his life, he shifted and closed the distance between them. He would give his soul to again see what he had moments before, and the only way he knew he could see if it was true was to take the risk of her rejecting him. Yet as their lips touched, everything faded to the background, including his fear that she would push him away. What he had intended to be a little more than the numerous pecks he had given her on her cheek, took on a life of its own. Within a heartbeat, any thought of letting up, especially since her response to his action had been instantaneous, allowing him any access he sought.
He pushed her back into the matrass, his body pressing against hers, his unmistakable arousal nudging against her hip. He nipped at her lips, trying to draw air in in harsh gasps, yet unwilling to let up. He finally rested his forehead against hers, husking, "Stop me, Abbs."
Abby's body pushed against his as she moaned, "Don't want to."
"You have to," he again tried, knowing that if she didn't they would irreversibly alter their relationship.
"No," she moaned, her hips grinding against his, "want this."
His lips again took hers; while he tried to decant the years of bottled up emotion. His hands ran over her, clutching, tugging at her clothes, grunting in frustration when he could not get them out of the way quick enough. She mirrored his actions, tugging at his clothes.
A farm flush of desire shot through him when he found her wet and ready for him, his discovery only urged him on. When, like a bucket of ice water being cast over him, he remembered that he did not have anything with him. He tried to pull back, heard her protesting moan,
"Abbs," he tried to draw her attention,
"No," she moaned, clutching at him, shifting below him, her intention clear, his own body instinctively shifting into position.
"Abbs, I don't have…" he managed to husk out moments before she took hold of him, causing his mind to lose its train of thought.
"Don't need," she grunted, as her legs parted farther and her hips lifted, her heat welcoming the tip of him.
It would have taken a man of stronger resolve to resist, and he willing caved to his desires. His hips pressed forward, her immense heat surrounding him drew a hiss from his lips, in answer to her encouraging grunt.
He had barely hit full depth before again pulling back, needing to feel her heat caress him. He needed her grunts and groans as he pushed back in, her fingers biting into his buttocks as her body rose to meet him.
His head pushed into her shoulder, grunting as her body held him for a moment, before the urge again took over, and he drew back.
Her heat was too much the sensation too much, his body too long starved, the build up to quick. Clenching his hands into fists he pulled back, slipping from her.
Her instinctive reaction was to reach for him her body seeking him and she moaned in frustration.
"Need a minute Abbs, too much," he panted next to her ear, moments before lifting to take her lips. His action effectively diverting her attention, as he lost himself in her taste, in the small moans she made as his hands once again brushed over her body.
Their bodies instinctively shifted together, their second coming together just as intense as the first, only this time she wrapped her legs around him, pinning him to her. Breaking their kiss he gasped as he shifted against her, inside her, his body taking over. His eyes closed in pleasure, his hips undulating against hers, the intensity growing increasing, as her body tightened under his, her arms held onto him tighter. He could feel it building, tightening, the tingling along his spine intensifying.
He glanced down at her, her head already pushed back against the pillow, gasping for air. Her body tightened around him, mere moments before his body shuddered. His hips lunged into her, before pressing down, hard. A searing heat coiled through his body, followed by blinding pleasure as his body pumped his essence into her, over and over again.
Replete, he braced himself on his elbows, his lips close to her ear. Not yet ready to part from her, also not willing to concede what they had just done. He was reluctant to accept just how much it could complicate things for them. His base instinct was to keep her safe, it was the one that always remained the strongest, yet he hoped that she did not regret what they had done.
He felt her legs slide from him, dropping onto the mattress, her body soft and yielding below his, as her hands slowly ran along his back.
He shifted and slipped his arms under her, lowly murmuring, "You're mine now, Abbs."
His heart thudded in his throat, as he waited for a response.
Her soft whisper "Always have been," was hardly audible. It instantly warmed him, and sent a wave of relief through him, causing him to pull back just enough to retake her lips, in a gentler kiss, before pulling her with him to settle back on the bed, and letting her settle against him.
There were so many things they needed to discuss, but they could wait. He wanted to bask in the afterglow, to allow it to mark the longed for change of things between them.
*·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·. GABBY .·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·*
My apologies to The Gabby Effect for hijacking her storyline, although Missy harbours no regrets.
