"Please wake up? Please?"
Gibbs was shaken awake and opened his eyes to see a familiar form in front of him. She was wearing and old shirt and, if he knew her the way he thought he did, not much else. She wore an apologetic expression, but also one of worry. Gibbs sat up with a sigh.
"Abby, you need to sleep. You have court in the morning."
The pale woman before him shifted her weight from one foot to the other and wrung her hands nervously. "I can't."
Another sigh, and he threw the covers back to rise out of bed. Two steps on the chill wooden floors and he was at her side, taking her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him immediately, and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Abby, I told you. We caught Mikel. They have him in custody. No one is after you anymore. You don't have anything to worry about, except maybe the hangover you're going to have in the morning."
He heard her draw in a breath, felt her start to move away, but he wouldn't allow it. Already he wanted to go in, to get his hands on this Mikel character and maybe "talk" some sense into him, but he knew he was needed here. With her.
He rubbed gentle circles onto Abby's back, waiting for her to relax against him again. There was a line, there was Rule Twelve. There was so much standing between them that had to be respected and upheld. Most of the time, he could distract himself—the sharp bite of hot black coffee on his tongue could drive away the desire to taste her lips. Smacking the back of DiNozzo's head for some smartass comment could stop him from caressing Abby's smooth skin. But now she stood here, in the middle of his dark bedroom wearing just an old t-shirt and smelling sweetly of sawdust and something he'd never been totally able to place, and it was all that much more difficult.
He pressed a light kiss to the warm curve where her neck met her shoulder. Abby moved to pull away again, and this time his head won out and he let her.
"Gibbs..." she began, a faint smile tugging at that corners of her lips. That quickly disappeared. "That's not...why I'm here." Her teeth sank into her lower lip and Gibbs had to repress a very un-Gibbs-like groan. This woman was going to be the death of him.
"So what is it, then, Abbs?"
Abby heaved a sigh of her own. "There's a spider on the toilet seat." Gibbs stared at her blankly. "And I need you to...take care of it or something."
Abby Sciuto, Navy Yard's resident Goth and no-nonsense fearless advocate for self-reliance wanted him to kill a spider? As though she had read his mind, she went on.
"I am still just a teensy bit drunk, Agent Gibbs. Do you want me flailing around near your porcelain?" A good point. "Plus I hate killing bugs. I feel so guilty. Can't you just do something?"
"There's a head downstairs." Gibbs ran his hand over his eyes. It was too early in the morning for this.
Abby seemed to think for a moment. "Sure thing. Here I go, one intoxicated little Abby, strolling through your dark and unfamiliar house all by my lonesome." At the door, she stopped and turned around. "You know, if you found out that McGee or Tony let me do this, I'm pretty sure there would be blood."
The death of him. That was seriously what this woman would be. His death, with her pigtails and her tiny little skirts. But she had yet another good point.
"Fine. You...stay here."
He was rewarded with one of her most brilliant smiles and a quick kiss on the cheek. To be honest, he felt a bit like a knight in a fairy tale, receiving a kiss and a love token from his lady. How horrifying, but at the same time...not. That was just what she could do to him. He entered the bathroom and blinked his eyes several times against the harsh lights. When he saw the spider, he fought to keep from rolling his eyes. It was small, but furry, and a strange shade of brown. Without giving a thought to what kind it could be, he merely flicked it into the bowl, and flushed.
"It's all clear," he announced when he returned to the room. Abby clapped her hands several times in celebration, then flung herself at him. He caught her, of course, and she gripped him tightly.
"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, you are my hero forever," she declared, with one more extra-tight squeeze. With that, she released him and hurried into the room he'd just exited. Gibbs had to smile even as he slid back between his sheets. Abby was beyond frustrating, but she always made up for it tenfold. After several minutes, he heard Abby's soft footsteps pausing in his doorway. She hesitated for too long, so he sat up again, growing weary. When he caught her eyes in the darkness that extended between them, he heard her draw in a quiet breath.
For a moment, Gibbs wanted to lift the covers, to invite her into his bed with him. He didn't just want the warmth of a woman next to him—he wanted her. He wanted to be able to listen to her breathing as she finally fell asleep. He wanted to fit his arm into that gentle curve of her waist and pull her close to let her know that she was safe. Loved.
The moment passed. "Well, goodnight," she said, but her voice was unreadable. She stepped out of his room and into th hall, and, after a few seconds, he heard her padding away from him. Gibbs lay back in bed and remained that way for the rest of the night: staring at the ceiling and listening for any noises.