Title: Laced
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Gibbs and Abby have an outfit-related UST moment.
Author's Note: From the prompt 'silly' at the Gabby forum Drabble Game thread. It kinda grew, so it's a little bit more than a drabble. I plan a second chapter, so it gets its own fic entry rather than going over with Snippets and Snapshots. :)
"Hey, Gibbs?"
He glances up from his paperwork to find Abby standing before him, and his breath falters at the sight of her. Her makeup is dark and dramatic, her pigtails are threaded with purple ribbons, and her purple plaid mini-dress fits her curves as if it was made for her. Her stockings are so sheer he can hardly see them, save for the black lace garter of one when she shifts her weight, and she's wearing black wedge-heeled shoes - the only kind of heel she can walk in reliably.
"I'm probably being silly, but can you tell me if this dress is fastened properly? I laced it blind, and I can't tell if it's done right."
She turns and waits expectantly, and he gets to his feet, clearing his throat to fill the void where his words should be. She's missed one eyelet on the corset-style lacing, about halfway up, and the rest of the lacing is uneven.
With no one else around the bullpen at this time of night, he's gonna have to suck it up.
"Yeah, you missed one," he tells her, his voice huskier than he'd like. "Hold still; I need to undo some of it."
Abby gives a quick nod. "Thanks," she murmurs, the word barely audible,
He undoes the lacing without touching her skin, but re-lacing it correctly is more of a minefield, and on a couple of occasions his fingers brush the cross tattoo inked into the smooth flesh of her back. An involuntary shiver ripples across her skin, and he swallows hard, his movements growing clumsy. "Where are you going tonight?" he asks.
"Just a club downtown. No special occasion, but the dress code's pretty strict, so that's why I'm all dolled up."
Gibbs pulls the laces tight, and she inhales, adjusting to the sensation. "A little tighter?" she requests, and god help him, she's pushing up her breasts a little, deepening the hint of cleavage he can see over her shoulder.
He complies maybe a little too roughly, and she gasps, laughing breathlessly. "Wow, Gibbs, I said a little! Don't loosen it, though - it's good."
"You sure you can breathe? If you pass out I'm not gonna be held responsible..." He waits on her affirmative reply before tying the laces, steeling himself for when she turns around.
She smiles and steps back a pace, striking a half-hearted pose. "How do I look?"
Gibbs opts for the safety of an understatement, pulling on one of her pigtails gently before retreating behind his desk. "You'll do."
"Just 'do'?" she teases. "Must be losing my touch."
The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Trust me, Abbs. You're not."
"Awwww!" Her expression brightens, as if he's made her day. "Okay, I gotta go, or I'll be late. Have a good night, Gibbs!"
He watches her dash for the elevator, exhaling slowly and shaking his head. Rule twelve is a pain in the ass sometimes.