A/N: This was written for my friend Santa Smackalicious on NFA with THANKS for all her terrific Secret Santa moderating work as it is a pairing we both enjoy. A second - longer! -chapter will be posted soon to close this story out.

I own nothing related to NCIS or Ben & Jerry's, though I wouldn't mind of I did!

This first chapter is all Abby and I hope you enjoy it - and that you'll let me know if you do. =) Thanks for reading!

Abby Sciuto walked into her apartment after finishing work on New Year's Eve, completely disgusted with herself. If she lost her train of thought one more time while giving evidence results to Gibbs, he was going to end up slapping her upside the back of her head and he never did that – not to her. And it wasn't even her fault, she all but whined to herself; it was hers.

Yeah, that was it, Abby decided, using her burst of righteous indignation to fuel the effort needed to hang up her coat and bag on the stand near the door. If she wasn't so … so … sexy … so … mouthwateringly gorgeous … if she'd stop winking at her for crying out loud, then Abby could concentrate.

And who the hell knew cargo pants could be so damn hot?

The almost-kiss today had finally nearly sent one poor, smitten forensic scientist over the edge. And the blame for that she laid at the feet of one Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo – and the woman who'd clearly decided to channel her inner naughty ninja when Tony had dared her to kiss Abby under the mistletoe in her lab.

The Goth refused to acknowledge her own culpability in that situation. So what if she had been the one to hang the greenery up before Christmas and had yet to take it down?

The woman on the other end of Tony's challenge had gotten a look in her eye that managed to be teasing, seductive and unreadable all at the same time. She'd ambled over to Abby with that roll of her hips that only she could do, then slowly, so … slowly aimed her mouth toward the Goth's. Abby's heart had pounded and she literally hadn't been able to breathe. The other woman's breath had been close enough to caress Abby's lips before she'd changed her angle slightly and pressed a very soft, clingy kiss to Abby's cheek, almost too close to her mouth, but not really close enough at all.

Abby had stood frozen, knowing if she moved a muscle it would be to turn her head and capture the other woman's mouth with her own. She figured her dreams of that were destined to remain just that – dreams. However, if by some miracle a kiss ever did happen between them, it wasn't going to be in front of an audience. Abby hadn't been able to stop the pulse at the base of her throat from fluttering wildly, though … had it just been wishful thinking that the other woman's eyes had fixed there and darkened with desire? Yeah, probably.

Then, as fast as it had come, all the wind went out of her sails. The reality was that the star in her innermost fantasies couldn't help that she was beautiful, smart, tempting and totally kick-ass. She was just being herself.

Ziva.

Abby went into her bedroom and changed into a comfortable pair of old yoga pants and a tight olive green t-shirt that had a tendency to ride up on her middle. She washed her face and combed her pigtails out, then pulled her hair up in one high ponytail. She was supposed to go clubbing with a bunch of friends to celebrate the New Year tonight, but had already called to beg off. She just wasn't up for it.

She examined the faint shadows under her eyes. God, she was even losing sleep over this now. If she wasn't dreaming about Ziva, she was worrying about hiding her ever-increasing obsession – er, um, feelings – for the Israeli. The lack of sleep was also contributing to her concentration problems at work, which was just inexcusable and totally unlike her. And if Ziva was the one to bring evidence to the lab or if she came along to hear Abby's results, then forget it – she was really focus-challenged.

And, as if this wasn't enough of a distraction, someone had started leaving her little gifts and she had no idea who it was. It was driving her bonkers. The presents ranged from mini-Caf-Pows to full-size ones, from death-by-chocolate cupcakes to black roses. At first, she'd gotten paranoid; being stalked in the past could do that to a girl. Over time, though, it just didn't have that feel to it.

Abby had tried every system she could think of to catch the culprit red-handed, but to no avail. She had not been able to capture the giver on tape, find residue on anyone's hands or clothing or even trip the person with a good, old-fashioned trip wire. It was beyond frustrating.

Not that the gifts weren't welcome; they were always exactly something she needed or loved. But she would like to thank the person. After all, her lovable Southern parents had raised her and her brother with an excellent set of manners.

Plus … maybe, just maybe, if someone was doing this because they were attracted to her, if they were trying to communicate their feelings in a secret-admirer-kind-of-way, then maybe it would be someone in whom she could be interested and finally move beyond these feelings she had for Ziva that had somehow morphed over the years from "I don't like you" to "Could I puh-lease put my hands under your clothes and my tongue in your mouth?" Sigh.

Abby padded into the kitchen and stood in front of the now-open refrigerator, staring indecisively at the contents. Nothing really sounded good. Except wine. Yep, that suddenly sounded very good. Oh! And what better to go with that than the brand new pint of Ben & Jerry's Imagine Whirled Peace ice cream? Oh, yeah, baby. That should do the drowning-her-Ziva-sorrows trick. Luckily, the wine she was in the mood for was a sweet red … a perfect combination, if she said so herself.

Besides, if she drank enough of the wine, maybe it would help her sleep. Tomorrow was a holiday and she didn't have to work, but she had a hunch that her secret gift giver would take the opportunity to strike and she wanted to go in early in another attempt to catch the person in the act. The gift could appear at any time of day, but walking in to find one first thing in the morning was the most common occurrence no matter how early Abby managed to get there.

Halfway through the carton of ice cream and after only a couple of sips of wine, Abby inexplicably had one of her sudden changes of heart. This was pathetic. Drowning her sorrows in ice cream and wine – even if both were damn good – instead of tackling the problem head on was just not like her.

Okay. Look at the evidence, Scuito, she told herself. You like Ziva. Really, REALLY like Ziva. Truth be told, you love Ziva, but whoa! No need to get completely carried away here. Ziva probably doesn't feel the same way.

"Probably?" a voice said inside her head.

"Yeah, probably," Abby answered, not even noticing that she was talking out loud in response. "As in probably not. Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" the voice persisted.

"Yes, I know she probably doesn't," Abby maintained stubbornly.

"There's that 'probably' word again."

Okay, that voice was really starting to work her last nerve, even if it sounded exactly like herself and was coming from inside her own head.

"What keeps you from saying a firm 'no, she doesn't like me that way' – and meaning it?" the voice prodded.

"Nothing," Abby answered automatically. After a brief pause, she continued. "Well, okay – sometimes she flirts with me. But Ziva flirts with everyone, even Gibbs sometimes. Not in a bad, sleazy way, in a sizzly, fun …" Abby drifted off for a moment. "… yummy kind of way."

"What else?"

"Sometimes she looks at me." Abby stopped.

"Looks at you?" the voice poked at her a little disbelievingly.

"Yeah, you know – looks at me," Abby tried to clarify unhelpfully. "When she thinks I'm not looking. And then …"

"'And then' – what?"

"Well, the way she almost kissed me today. Like, I think she was just messing with Tony, but … it felt a little like maybe something more was going on, too, like maybe she wanted to kiss me. Maybe. Probably not. I told you, I don't know - !"

Abby got hold of herself. This was ridiculous and getting her nowhere except to the bottom of her carton of ice cream. Damn. It was gone already?

She should do something. Take action. Yes, that was it. She should march over to Ziva's and admit her feelings so that Ziva could shoot her down and then Abby could surely move on. Ziva wouldn't be mean about it; their friendship was too close for that. And then Abby could begin the new year with a resolution for a fresh start, leaving her feelings for Ziva in 2011 and starting 2012 with a whole new outlook.

She ignored the empty feeling even the very idea of that brought. Apparently part of her didn't want to rid herself of loving Ziva, even if that was never meant to be a two-way street.

She stood from the couch in a determined manner, quickly slipped on some shoes and grabbed her coat to head out into the chilly night. She stopped before crossing the threshold into the hallway and looked down at her attire. Maybe she should change into something more attractive or at least put on some makeup.

Oh, forget it. She had no idea what to wear and it wasn't likely to matter anyhow. Besides, the elastic waistband on these pants would come in handy when she came home and dove into that Chocolate Therapy ice cream that she'd been saving for just such an occasion. Speaking of that, maybe she should stop and get more on the way home. One pint wasn't likely to do it.

And with that, she was out the door.

TBC ...