I realize some people have issues with this pairing, and can't imagine why they'd be reading this, but if they are, please be kind, and not rude. Reviews are love, and I would love to see some. Also, let me know if this should continue on, or just end here. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing!

It isn't his favorite day of the year, but then again any holiday pretty much ruins him. He's been alone a long time, and he's used to it. But it doesn't mean he has to like it. There's a lot to miss in spending life alone. Laughter between kisses, gentle caresses before passion ensues, a soft, feminine body to curl into as sleep takes over.

Holidays suck. Especially this one. He won't say it out loud, but it's one of the many sad truths of his existence. He puts on the tough façade - which may very well not even be a façade anymore – and moves on alone. He acts like he prefers it this way, that it doesn't bother him, that he's too set in his ways to cater to the whims of a relationship. The truth is, he wants more than the solitary life he leads. He wants the unthinkable, the illogical, the one thing he cannot have.

He's spent the past three days chasing down leads on a killer. With his highly-trained team at his side, he managed to catch the guy this afternoon, interrogate him, and get a confession. As a result, he'd had mercy on Tony, Ziva, and McGee, and let them leave early. Each had plans for the evening, and though he had feigned empathy, he'd inwardly been happy they had dates to spend time with tonight.

As he finishes making the rounds of the building, tying up loose ends, he winds up in her lab. It's uncharacteristically dark and quiet, and for a moment he thinks she's gone. Then he sees the flowers, sitting right where he'd put them this morning, and knows she's still here. There's no way she'd leave without that dozen black roses. He peeks his head in and listens. Nothing. He steps inside and moves toward her office door, only half-expecting to find her. He can't imagine what she'd be doing here in silence. Her world is always filled with loud, aggressive music. This isn't right.

He sees the faint light of her desk lamp glowing from within her office. He listens from outside the door, but hears nothing. His heart begins to pick up speed at the thought something may be wrong. Silence and darkness are not two things he's ever associated with Abby. Caffeine-driven energy, pulsating music, bright light and rampant joy. Those are the things she personifies, despite her wardrobe and black lipstick and nails. And he finds none of those things now.

As he enters the office, he spots her. She's sitting against the wall on her futon mattress on the floor, Bert the hippo in her lap. A sad, vacant stare replaces the usual animation in her eyes. She doesn't even look up until he speaks.

"Hey, Abbs. Whatcha doin' in here?"

She looks up, attempting to force a smile. "Hey, Gibbs."

He stares down at her sitting alone on the black futon. She looks like her best friend just died. "You okay, Abbs?" he asks, sitting down beside her, Indian-style.

She's quiet for a bit, like she isn't sure how to explain it. "It's just…its Valentine's Day, Gibbs."

"I know, Abbs. I gave you the flowers, remember?"

She turns to him quickly. "I know, and they're beautiful. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. What's wrong, then? This isn't like you."

"It's Valentines Day, and I'm here. Alone."

"He squeezes her shoulder. "You're not alone, Abby. I'm here."

She smiles sadly. "You know what I mean. You're alone, too."

"No, I'm not. I'm with you."

She lets out a breath.

"What's this about, Abbs. You don't usually care about Valentines Day, or having a date. You're not that kind of girl."

"It's just…I guess maybe I'm tired of it, you know?" She pauses, chewing her lip. "And it seems like I always want what I can't have, Gibbs."

He slides an arm around her shoulders. "I think we all feel like that at some point."

She looks at him tentatively, her voice soft. "You've felt like this?"

He smiles a little at the irony. "Oh, yeah."

She lays her head against his shoulder. "Really?"

"Yep. You're not alone, Abby." He kisses the hair at her temple, something he's done a hundred times. He breathes her in, closing his eyes.

"Did you ever get it? The thing you wanted?" she asks, with hope in her voice.

"Not yet."

"Think you ever will?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Think I will?"

He chuckles. "I don't know that, either."

"You always manage to make me feel better. You always get it." She moves to look at him in the soft light, her green eyes shimmering.

He smiles softly at her, wiping away a tear she doesn't realize has escaped. It seems to undo her a little. Her eyes speak volumes…words he knows she cannot say. He reads her so easily. He wonders if she reads him as well. She makes a feeble attempt at smiling back, but he can see her heart is breaking. "It's okay, Abbs."

Another tear falls, and he brushes it away, before leaning toward her. She turns her head, as is their custom, so he can kiss her cheek. He gently catches her chin and stops her. "Uh, uh. Not this time," he whispers, before gazing into her eyes and slowly, softly bringing his lips to hers. He feels her gasp, and draws back.

"Don't stop," she whispers, almost desperately.

He lets his eyes drift close, and captures her lips with his own. The kiss is soft and lingering, and filled with promise, and as he intensifies it, he feels her breath grow heavy. His tongue finds hers, and she moans, grasping his bicep with one hand as the other slides into his hair. He pulls her against him, further deepening the kiss, feeling her tremble in his arms.

He lets it go on as long as he can, but his resolve is beginning to crumble beneath her hands, and he forces himself to draw back. He presses his forehead against hers, and swallows. "I think we've both wondered what that would feel like," he says, his voice husky.

She nods, still trembling. "Uh huh."

He pulls back, staring into her deep green eyes. "You know this can't happen again, Abbs."

She nods, keeping silent for a time. "I wasn't expecting you to kiss me. You caught me off guard."

He strokes her cheek. "Sorry."

She tries to smile. "Apologies are a sign of weakness, Gibbs. You never apologize."

"You make me weak, Abbs."

"Weak enough to kiss me again?" she whispers. "I was unprepared. You have to give me a chance to kiss you back."

"You kissed me back."

She draws him close. "Not like this."

He feels her arms come around his neck, and her lips brush his tenderly, before fully taking possession. He opens his mouth to her, feeling his body react to her tongue dancing seductively over his. His pulse increases, and his breath grows heavy. Her hands clutch at his back, grasping the fabric of his shirt, holding him in place. He strokes the back of her neck with one hand, as the other finds her hip, pulling her nearer still.

His tongue takes over, and he dominates the kiss, making her tremble. She moans, the sound further arousing him. He wants her. He's always wanted her. The impossible, the illogical, the thing he cannot have. He draws back suddenly. "Abbs…"

She looks pleadingly at him, her voice a ragged whisper. "Please don't stop. Not now, please."

"We can't do this."

"Gibbs…"

God, she's beautiful. Sad and turned on and desperate. Desperate for him. He can't say no. "Not here, Abbs."

"Where?"

He strokes her face. "Wherever you want. Just not here."

She nods, capturing his lips in a short, but passionate kiss. "I don't live far."

"I know," he says, standing up and pulling her along. "Neither do I."

She drops Bert onto the futon and smiles softly. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

She takes his hand and kisses his cheek. "Happy Valentines."

He smiles thoughtfully. "The first in a long time."

"For me, too."

He squeezes her hand. "It can only get better."

She smiles, leading him out of the lab. "That's what I'm counting on."