Disclaimer: Like always, the characters are not mine, I just borrow them for this excursion. Plus, this time I also borrow the lyrics of a song titled "Calling Baton Rouge" by Garth Brooks. (You can find it on youtube, of course.)
A/N: Song suggested by Qoheleth as a perfect model for a Gibbs/Abby romantic songfic. I agreed. And promised to try. Short lyrics, long story, so I parted the stanzas. Never wrote a songfic before, so I hope it somewhat meets the expectations.
Enjoy everyone! (Especially those of you who valiantly endure my Mibbs-excursions ;-) )
Beta: DoomPrincess
Calling Baton Rouge
Had anyone told him on Saturday morning that he would head towards Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in his car by the end of the day, he would have declared that person mad. And had anyone told him what was going to happen down there, he probably would have shot the lunatic.
Instead, the following Monday morning found him ready to abandon his most important rule.
I spent last night in the arms
Of a girl in Louisiana,
And though I´m out on the highway,
My thoughts are still with her.
He must have fallen asleep under the skeletal frame of the sailboat, which he was building in the basement of his house. Having descended to his dungeon on Friday afternoon, he had worked all night, changing from coffee to whiskey and back to coffee in the morning again, not even thinking about having a break.
The day had stretched and some time late in the afternoon he had ordered some take-out ... had eaten it ... and ... .
His cell phone went off, dragging him back to consciousness. It was dark outside. The clock had just struck midnight.
Still dazed, he answered the phone, his eyes starting to search for his mug.
"Hey Gibbs. I dozed off at the airport and missed my plane. Now I could need a ride home. There won't be another flight available before tomorrow afternoon. Could you...?"
Such a strange combination
Of a woman and a child.
Such a strange situation,
Stoppin' every hundred miles.
Of course he could. He wouldn't want her to take a taxi back home that late at night.
With Abby, he would never hesitate. He had never met anyone like her before. She was a self-confident, beautiful young woman, who preferred to dress a little different. Strange. But very sexy nevertheless. And she was never shy about expressing her opinion. Any opinion. But despite all this, one could still see the child in her. Bert, the big plush farting hippo, being the most visible sign. And how ever self-confident she else appeared, this clearly pointed out her need for protection.
Which he gladly provided.
Abby and him, it had always been something special. They had clicked the instant they had started working together. Special Agent and forensic scientist, never out in the field together, but without doubt the best-functioning team one could ever think of.
Callin' Baton Rouge.
One hour later he was driving the car out of town, his Gothic forensic scientist occupying the passenger seat.
"Where are we going, Gibbs?" Dawn was already breaking when she woke from the sweet relaxed slumber that had overwhelmed her as soon as they had left the airport parking lot.
"One way or the other, you have to be at this convention on Monday morning. And should you miss your plane tomorrow afternoon again, I won't be able to drive you there in time."
A replay of last night's events
Roll through my mind,
Except a scene or two
Erased by sweet red wine.
They reached Baton Rouge on early Sunday evening.
"Thank you so very much, Gibbs." Her tight hug is heart-warming as always.
"You are welcome, Abs. Just be back at the lab next week." A kiss on the cheek follows, a "Good luck," and he turns to get back into the car again to return to DC.
"GIBBS!" She is utterly shocked. Then again, it actually isn't surprising that he wants to drive the whole way back again, then and there, without having a rest.
If anyone was able to convince him that this was a bad idea, it's her. Needless to say that she succeeds this time as well.
She checks in.
Promising to be back within a minute she rushes off to her room and returns after only five minutes. Smiling, she links arms with her boss and together they head for the hotel's restaurant.
The wine is just the beginning of what will keep his mind reeling on his drive back on Monday morning. Neither him nor Abby are the wine-drinking type, so they switch to whiskey in tacit understanding as soon as they finish the main dish. And half an hour later they take up residence at the bar.
Numerous glasses of whiskey later, he walks her to her room.
She fumbles about with the key, doesn't manage to insert it into the lock at the first try and the next instant a warm big callused hand clasps hers, softly leading the key to its destination.
The door clicks open.
A 'thank you' on her lips, she turns around, stopping in her tracks as her lips almost collide with his. A kiss good-night on her temple has been his innocent intention.
Was it the foreign environment? The sultry summer's night? The whiskey? The two of them have shared a bottle of whiskey or two on more than one occasion and their minds had always been on trivial stuff, talking or not talking at all, just for keeping each other's company and not even close to what was going to happen here.
Time stands still as their faces hover -- only inches apart --, their gazes locked, their minds going blank, and any thought that would threaten to emerge being abruptly erased.
Hot breath is flooding flushed faces, melting the separating air between them like the first snowflakes falling on the still warm soil. The distance shrinks. Until there is only a mere millimeter left.
The electric lights shut off, allowing realization to dawn. Slowly. And it's not enough to make them move apart.
"We can't do this, Abs."
"No we can't."
Their lips brush ... and melt in a slow, exploring kiss. His hands slide around her waist to steady her trembling body, seeking his own support.
Reluctantly, they break the kiss as the need for air becomes unbearable.
"Stay," she whispers.
"We had too much whiskey."
"Not more than usual."
The sound of her quivering voice makes him sigh, stimulating this unknown desire rather than containing it.
"Just stay for the night. I won't ever ask for more."
"Abby..." Did she just ask for ...?
"Please..." Her plea is barely above a whisper.
"You don't...." She's silencing his words by laying a finger across his lips.
"I do know what I'm asking for," she breathes reassuringly, replacing her finger with her lips, teasing him into a kiss that's sweet. Seductive. Demanding. Overwhelming.
Behind closed doors only few words are spoken as passion's wings carry them through the night...
I see a truck stop sign ahead
So I change lanes.
I need a cup of coffee
And a couple dollars change.
The sun isn't rising yet as he wakes from a short pleasant slumber, her warm naked body sprawled comfortably half on top of his. She, too, wakes as he carefully slips out of bed from under her. She silently watches as he dresses quickly.
Smiling, hiding the nostalgic feeling, she stores away last night's events in her mind. It won't ever happen again. She's promised it.
He slowly lowers himself down onto the edge of the bed, giving her a warm smile and leaning in. She closes her eyes, expecting him to kiss her forehead. Instead, he aims for her lips, parting them gently with the tip of his tongue for a slow kiss that's destined to caress her soul.
She almost doesn't respond and he can't blame her.
Without any further good-bye he's out on the highway. His thoughts, however, are still with her; last night's events still very present in his mind. The smile, this afterglow evokes, collides with his most important rule.
Callin' Baton Rouge
She won't ever ask for more... She's strong. Stronger than him? It had felt so good, last night. Incredibly good. Like it had felt with no one else before.
He leaves the highway at the next rest stop.
"I need coffee!" Would coffee help him clear his mind?
Coffee in one hand, change in the other, he leaves the roadhouse, passing a payphone on his way out.
He stops. Hesitates. He needs to call work to let them know he won't show up too soon. But first he has to make a more important call.
He pulls out his cell and dials her number.
Operator won't you
Put me on through,
I gotta send my love
Down to Baton Rouge.
But he only gets her mailbox.
Since it's still early in the morning, she would still be at her hotel room. So he calls the reception desk. The telephone number is on last night's bar bill.
"Sheraton Baton Rouge Convention Center Hotel."
"Miss..."
"Hold on a second, please."
Hurry up,
Won't you put her on the line,
I gotta talk to the girl
Just one more time.
It feels like hours until the receptionist's voice is heard again.
"Sorry, sir. What can I do for you?"
"Miss Abby Sciuto's room, please."
The time stretches for an unbearable amount of time until Abby answers the phone.
"Hello?" Her semi-somnolent voice makes his heart jump.
Hello Samantha dear
I hope you're doing fine
And it won't be long
Before I'm with you all the time.
"Don't miss your plane back..." He wouldn't hesitate to drive all the way down there again to get her back, should this really happen.
"Gibbs?"
"Because if you do, it will take even longer till I can pull you close again."
But until then
I'll spend my money
Up right down to my last dime,
Callin' Baton Rouge.
Or maybe he should just drive back down to Baton Rouge on Friday night, look her deep into her shining bright green eyes and tell her that he won't accept her request to let last night be an exception.
But until then he will keep telling her on the phone...
Callin' Baton Rouge.
Sweet Baton Rouge.
My Baton Rouge.
… will keep telling her, each day, each night...
"I love you."
THE END