Disclaimer: Being sued is not one of my favorite activities.

This is my first Zabby fic :)
I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Though I'm not entirely sure about writing from the first-person, I think it works.
Also if you're interested & can be bothered looking, you know how links fail here, I put together a little collage of the outfits I described in this chapter;
go to the website www. polyvore. com in the search box click the little arrow and select members search for queenstaceface the set is under the same title as this fic.

Ziva's POV.

It is late Friday evening and I am at home, relaxing with a book when the phone rings. It is Abby. I smile as she chatters excitedly about an impromptu party she is throwing tomorrow night.

"No real reason, but you should totally come. Sometimes it's just fun to get dressed up, let your pigtails... or ponytail loose..."

"It sounds great." I say honestly.

"Yay!" I can almost see the smile on her face. "Come over any time from eight. And wear something damn sexy!"

The next morning I am up early, full of nervous energy. I go for an extra long run and fill the afternoon with unimportant errands and housework. I reheat some leftovers for dinner, but don't eat much of anything. I lay a deep green halter-neck dress and a newer, fairly short, electric blue one-shouldered dress on the bed, and look at both through critical eyes.

I cannot remember the last time I cared so much about dresses.

When Abby's party is just starting, I take a shower. I do not want to be early. What if I am the first person there? Why am I so afraid?

I know why. I have never felt this way about anyone before. It is important that I do not make mistakes.

I spend the next hour fussing over my hair and make-up, then I slip on the blue dress and a pair of dangly gold earrings. I carry my purse and heels- I will put them on at the last minute- to my car.

When I arrive at the party, an hour in, it seems most, if not all of the guests are already there. The living room and adjoining kitchen are quite full. I survey people's outfits. There are some wild ones, no doubt belonging to the people who frequent the same underground clubs as Abby, but there are many like mine. I am satisfied that I made the right choice.

I greet both Tony and McGee amongst the crowd before I finally spot Abby, who is surrounded by admiring men and women. She looks stunning- though I am not surprised, with Abby that is a constant. She is wearing a very short black dress with a zip running from the bust to the hem and three buckled straps around the middle, sheer black knee-high stockings topped with lace, black platform heels adorned with ribbon and lace- which surprise me- and instead of her usual matching wrist cuffs, she is wearing a single cuff that looks not unlike a ribcage. Her hair is in high pigtails, her fringe is pinned to one side.

Her gaze flicks around the room. "Ziva!" she cries happily, rushing towards me and enveloping me in a hug that I cannot help but return. When the embrace is over, I am aware that her hands are still on my waist. "I am so happy you came."

"So am I." I smile back, my hand resting on her arm. I gather my courage. "You look amazing."

"Me? What about you! You look fucking incredible."

I glance at her shoes again. "Speaking of incredible... I thought you did not like heels?"

Abby gives me that smile- the one that is usually reserved for Gibbs. "What can I say, I'm full of surprises."

I want to kiss her then and there, I realise. But all of the eyes that had been on Abby a moment before are now on the both of us, and I am suddenly nervous other people can tell how I feel- though perhaps she cannot.

I step back slowly. "I am going to get a drink. Would you like one?"

"Sure!" She bounces, still smiling. "Something sweet, please."

In a few minutes I return with two raspberry vodkas.

"Cheers!" Abby winks.

I try to stay near Abby for the next few hours, wondering how she can possibly remain so oblivious to my infatuation with her.

At one stage, I am gazing at her legs, the zip and buckles on her dress... thinking how I would just love to-

"Ahem!" The most obvious throat clearing I have ever heard snaps me out of my fantasy.

Tony is smirking at me.

"The Goth and the Assassin." he all but purrs, before disappearing into the crowd.

I blush madly, and get another drink before perching on a stool at the counter separating the kitchen and living room. I return to (subtly) watching Abby drift from group to group, a plastic cup of something, by the looks of the way she is looking a little giddy in those shoes, strong, in her hand.

I nibble pretzels and swing my legs a little, wishing she would notice that I am by myself and she would come over and talk to me.

Maybe I will get drunk enough to express my feelings to her. Maybe she will be drunk enough to feel the same way – or drunk enough to forget everything if she does not.

"Hey, Ziva."

I turn to the voice and see McGee standing at my side, holding both a beer and an unidentifiable mixed drink, which he offers to me.

I take it. "Thank you."

I do not want him to be here. As much as I like Timothy, he and Abby have a habit of 'hooking up' when there is alcohol around, and I despise him for it.

He sits next to me and takes a swig of his beer.

"Too bad about that Petty Officer, huh?" he says, evidently unable to discuss anything but work with me.

"Yes." I say, but my mind is elsewhere.

McGee keeps talking, and now and then I pay attention enough to realise he is giving me a step-by-step description of what he did on the computer to figure out where the Petty Officer's killer had been hiding.

Nodding, I watch Abby hug some new arrivals and point them towards the fridge.

She catches my eye across the room and throws me a wink. I cannot help myself, I blush.

"Hmm." McGee said. "A little bird told me you had a case of elevator eyes for Abby."

"Damnit, Tony." I growl softly.

McGee raises his eyebrows, and it infuriates me. "So he's right?"

"Why would he be right?" I say, and get up to leave before he can list all the reasons.

I move away from McGee, gulping down the rest of my drink before making myself another. I have lost sight of Abby, I cannot see her anywhere. I wander from room to room, searching. I head towards her bedroom. She is not there, but I go in all the same, knowing she would not really mind finding me there should she walk in. I have been in here before, but not for long, so I walk around slowly, taking in every detail. She has a coffin and a gorgeous four poster bed. The walls are are dark purple and the carpet is blood red. There are some amazing artworks on the walls, not unlike the ones she made for her lab. It is all so eccentric, yet beautifully captivating. So Abby.

I sigh and walk over to the window with the intent of closing the drapes. As I reach for the cord, I see the balcony to the right. She is out there drinking a beer, raven hair shining as she gazes up at the moonlight.

I am about to head out of the room and join her when I see McGee beat me to it, another plastic cup in his hand. Abby takes it with a smile and drinks. When she lets him kiss her, I turn away and head back to the kitchen to replace the empty bottle in my hand with a full one, and wait in the kitchen for him to come back inside.

When he does, I push past him and open the balcony door.

"Heyy!" Abby laughs, looking up at me from where she's sprawled on the patio swing. "Drunk?"

"I am getting there." I say, sinking down beside her. And I am. As soon as I saw McGee at the party I knew I had no chance with Abby and chose to drown my disappointment.

"Having fun?" she asks mildly, her eyes searching the stars above. Her pigtails were drooping, like they had been yanked at.

"Yes." I lie. I reach for her hand, briefly, and then change my mind and snap a potted red daisy off at the stem, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger. "How is McGee?"

"Mm. Horny." She raises her hand to her lips, attempts to clean up the mess he has made of her lipstick. "I don't know what to do with him," she sighs. "Outside of work, I never see him when I'm sober anymore."

I bite my lip. "He is only after one thing." I say softly.

There is a long moment of silence.

"I know." Abby finally says slowly, picking a daisy of her own. "But when I'm drunk, it always seems like a good idea." She rolls her eyes and gives me a weary smile.

I shiver at the thought.

"Mmm, it's cold. Actually," she sighs, staggering to her feet, "I might go in and take a shower... sober up a bit." She climbs out of the swing and wanders towards the kitchen, still somewhat unsteady.

I contemplate her words for a second before following her inside.

In the kitchen, we realise that it is quite late. Most of the guests have gone home. McGee has reappeared and is pouring shots of vodka in the kitchen. He convinces Abby to take a couple, his mouth pressed against her ear and his arm around her waist.

I know Tony is watching me watch them, but I do not care and match her shot for shot, the alcohol burning my throat. I splutter and McGee chuckles. Tony begins to talk to him, probably about some movie. Abby downs another in one smooth motion before heading down the hall.

That is it.

I take a deep breath and another shot. And follow her.

My heart is beating so fast, so fast. I kick my heels off by her bed and glance around before I try the handle to her bathroom door. She has left it unlocked. I slip inside and close the door softly, the sound of my pulse dying a little under the steady hiss and trickle of the shower.

I slide the bolt across with trembling fingers and unzip my dress, slipping it over my head in one swift motion. I see shadow against the shower curtain, hear her humming some obscure song under her breath.

I am too drunk to think of any plausible excuse for this. But she is drunk too. Perhaps if this is a disaster she will not even remember.

I stand there naked, a meter from her and separated only by a flimsy curtain decorated with red roses.

I step forward, curl my toes against the bath mat and take a deep breath. My fingers creep around the shower curtain and I draw it back slowly.

She has her back to me, her face tipped up towards the stream of water, a sudsy black shower puff pressed against her throat. Her hair is still in disarray.

If I wanted to, I could grab my clothes and escape from this before she sees me and freaks out and banishes me from her life forever.

But I do not want to get dressed and leave.

I want this.

I step into the tub and touch my fingers against her hip. She turns her head only slightly, her eyes half-closed. She does not seem surprised.

"Was wondering when you'd come in," she murmurs, her eyelids fluttering. She has not looked at me and now she turns her head back to the wall and dips it slowly.

I am so surprised that I pause for a moment. I can feel vodka in my head and in my blood. I am dizzy. I step closer, press my lips against the crease of her shoulder and her neck. She tips her head back with a sigh, squeezing the soapy puff against her skin.

"So," she whispers, her head still back, her eyes still closed, "Why'd you get me so drunk?"

I kiss the side of her throat and let my fingers slide from her hips around to the flat plane of her belly. I do not want to talk. I do not think I can.

She moves the soapy bath puff down her throat to her breasts.

"Hey Timmy..." she murmurs. "Want to do my back?"

Oh shit, oh fuck. She thinks I am McGee, oh no, oh...

I freeze, my heart pumps a dash of icy-cold blood through my body and suddenly I feel more sober than ever before.

Fuck. What do I do?

"Abby..." My fingers move away from her belly and back to her hips.

She turns her head in surprise, her eyes wide but glazed.

"Oh, Ziva..." She blinks at me. "Hi."

"Hi..." I say.

She gives me a lazy smile. "Thought you were McGee."

"I am sorry," I say. I can feel a flush rising to my cheeks. I am still touching her. I cannot stop staring at her. She is drunk. I should not be here.

She drops her eyes and lets them wander down my bare skin, right to my toes, which are facing hers. "Are you drunk?" she asks, a catch in her throat.

"Yes." I say.

"Me too..." She squeezes the shower puff against her breasts again and then presses it towards me, stroking it gently over my shoulder. "Did you know I was in here?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"I can go." I say softly.

She raises her eyes again. Water is misting over her hair and her lashes. I reach up and gently tug the elastic from her hair, and it falls messily over her shoulders in damp tendrils. Cupping her face in my hands, feeling her hands slide along my skin, I kiss her.

She tastes of vodka and punch and it sends a shiver down to the bottom of my belly. Over the hiss of the shower and the gurgle of the drain I hear the door give a gentle rattle.

Someone is trying to open the door.

"Hey, Abs..." McGee says softly from the other side. "Let me in?"

Abby breaks away from me, sways unsteadily and blinks at me. My heart is in my throat and I wonder if McGee noticed my shoes on Abby's bedroom floor. She turns her head to the door, bites her lip and calls back to him, her voice husky.

"No, Tim."

"What?"

She ignores him and curls one arm around my waist, opening her mouth slightly and pressing it against my lips.

"Kiss me again." she demands against my mouth.

My body sags with relief and I stroke her cheeks with my thumbs. I do not know how I know what to do, but it all seems to be right with her. I kiss her again, harder. Brush her hip with my knuckles and bow my head to the stream of the water.

"Abby?" I murmur. "I am not that drunk..."

"But you're in the shower with me," she says softly.

"Yes."

"Are you a lesbian?" She rests her forehead against the curve of my shoulder and my neck.

"I do not know." I sigh. "But I am definitely not straight."

I can feel her lashes on my skin. "Me either." she breathes.

"I really like you." I whisper. "Really, really, really like you."

"I knew..." she answers. "I just wasn't sure... what you wanted."

"This is what I want." I say instantly. "But if you do not want... this..."

She lets out a little laugh. "Nah, this is okay, isn't it?"

I laugh too, breathlessly, and cup her face again. "It is very okay with me..." I blink water from my eyes and try to catch her gaze. "But, are you just drunk? Or do you want this too?"

"I want this too, Ziva."

"I do not want a drunken Abby for one night," I say pleadingly, unable to stop the desperation in my voice. "I think about you all the time, I want you... like this... all the time."

"Yeah." she answers, her voice low, her cheeks flushed, and her hair wet and heavy against her neck. "I thought maybe you did." She lowers her eyes, unfocused for a moment. "I just didn't want to say anything. You know, in case I was wrong. I thought it was pretty arrogant of me to think you had a crush on me."

"So, when you are sober... will you... freak out?" I ask.

"No." She murmurs, pressing her lips against mine again. "But Tony might when he finds out."

::brushes self off::

It's 4am in Melbourne right now. Please let me know what you think- especially if I'm delusional and it's actually rubbish :x

I am terrible at writing multiple chapter stories/updating them- so for now this is a one-shot.