Disclaimer: I own nada, nothing, zilch.
A/N: This is my first attempt at NCIS fic, and I owe the inspiration to Fallenbelle. I also owe something just shy of a co-writer's credit to Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain on this one. Thank you, my friend. It'd be half the story without you.

Safe Driver

People milled along the brick wall outside the club, a human collage of leather, silver, and nylon, accented with crimson lips and red, bloodshot eyes. Abby half-danced, half-stumbled down the sidewalk. "Hey, baby," she purred, leaning into an open window. "Looking for company?"

"Not funny, Abby. Get in the damn car."

Abby slid in and closed the door. "You have no sense of humor, Gibbs," she said with a tipsy grin.

"Not at three in the morning." He looked to his left and pulled out into the street.

Abby grabbed at Gibbs' arm to inspect his watch, exclaiming, "It's only three? Hey, drop me off and come back in an hour."

Gibbs refused to be disarmed by Abby's sense of humor. They had played out this little scenario a dozen times, and he knew playing into her hands would only make it more difficult. Better to maintain his reserve than let things get uncomfortable in the end. Yanking his arm out of her grasp, he flatly stated, "You're going home."

"Oooh, I love it when you get all authoritarian."

"Abby…" His tone carried a heavy warning.

"Why are you so uptight tonight, Gibbs?

He shifted gears, taking his exasperation out on the transmission. "Maybe it has something to do with getting dragged out of bed to come pick you up."

&&&

Gibbs' head had just hit the pillow, and he wondered why in hell he hadn't just ignored the phone. He was tired; he'd worked until his muscles ached and his mind was finally clear enough to sleep. He should have just let it ring.

"My designated driver bailed and I don't have enough cash for a cab."

"I'm not your dad, Abby," he growled into the phone. He hoped she heard him over the noise. Music thumped and screeched in the background, blending with laughter and raised voices into a chaotic din.

"I know. You're way hotter than my dad. Problem is – and how twisted is this? – my dad is out on a date, and you're home alone."

Gibbs thought about asking her how she knew he was alone, but he knew she'd have an answer and wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. What he did hear was the purr in her voice. Sober, Abby was a flirt. Drunk, it wasn't safe to leave her loose amid an unsuspecting crowd. In the interest of public safety, there was only one thing to do. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Where are you?" he sighed.

&&&

Abby banged her head in time with a tune only she could hear, mouthing words in time. Suddenly, she burst out laughing at nothing at all. Gibbs glanced over at her and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You should have been there tonight, Gibbs. The band rocked."

"I'll pass. What happened to your designated driver?" As if he couldn't guess.

"She hooked up – with the only decent guy in the place, too. Left me lonely."

Gibbs inner radar told him they were passing into dangerous territory, so he decided to cut communication and run silent for the rest of the trip. But it was too late; the enemy was on him.

"Are you lonely?" He didn't answer, but it didn't faze her. She turned sideways in her seat, and swung her stocking-feet onto his lap. Gibbs cursed silently and wondered how she'd gotten those giant boots off without alerting him. He flicked the lock button, just to make sure the door didn't pop open with her leaning against it. "C'mon, how come we never fool around?"

He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He glanced in the rearview mirror. "You know the answer to that question, Abby."

She cheerfully began the litany for him. "I'm drunk."

"Yes."

"But clearly not so drunk as to have my judgment impaired, because here I am, riding with you when I have these." She displayed the keys to her friend's car, jingling them noisily. "Next, you're going to say you are too old for me."

"Old enough to be your father."

"Yes, but you are not my father, and isn't that really the more important consideration?" She stretched her legs, running her toes across his thigh. "Now you're going to explain that you've never mastered the art of casual sex – thus, the three very bad decisions you call ex-wives."

"Hey!" he snapped, glaring at her quickly before turning back to the road.

"Okay, so that isn't how you word it. You 'take relationships seriously,'" she parroted in her best deep voice.

"And you take nothing seriously."

Abby looked at him earnestly. "I take lipstick very seriously." She laughed wildly, and for a moment, Gibbs thought he was in the clear. But Abby wasn't quite through. "Oh, and finally, the pièce de résistance, you don't sleep with co-workers. That's Gibbs' Rule Number Twelve."

He checked his mirrors and changed lanes. "A rule is a rule."

"Would the rule apply if a certain Agent Todd were the one making the offer?" A mocking smirk played on her violently red lips.

Gibbs hands tightened on the steering wheel. It wasn't the first time Abby had hinted about that, and he wondered what kind of tell he was giving off. He did his best to deflect her. "Do you think you are easier to resist?"

"No, I think I'm irresistible. I don't know how you manage it!" She wriggled her toes at him, and he pretended not to notice.

"I concentrate on the fact that you and I would be a one-way ticket to disaster." He turned off the highway and into her neighborhood.

"It's only sex, Gibbs. How can that lead to disaster?"

He snorted. "You want a list?"

"Well, I guess at your age… No heart problems, right?" She looked sideways at him, her tone playfully enticing. "I can be gentle."

He pulled over and shut off the car, face carefully expressionless. "We're here." When Abby didn't move, he leaned in, reached behind her, and unlocked her door. "Don't forget your boots."

"You really are no fun at all, Gibbs," Abby scolded lightly.

He looked at her piercingly. "And you really are a good friend, Abbs. I need you."

Abby grinned, and quickly pecked him on the cheek. "Well, why didn't you say that to begin with? You could have saved the whole list of excuses."

&&&

Gibbs trudged off the elevator with an industrial-size coffee in one hand and a super-sized soda in the other. Abby was sitting on the corner of his desk, chatting with Tony.

"Thank you!" she chirped, grabbing for the soda before it was offered.

Gibbs scrubbed a hand through his hair tiredly. "I don't know how you do it, Abbs."

"Poor baby! Did I wear you out last night?" Her voice was sympathetic, but her grin was wicked.

He returned the grin in kind, aware of Tony and Kate's attention on them. "I can't keep up with you. You're a wild woman."

"I think you keep up pretty well," she said suggestively. Abby hopped off his desk, running a hand down his arm as she passed. "Thanks again, Gibbs. Thank you very, very much."

Tony and Kate watched Abby leave. Gibbs adopted a carefully neutral expression and sat down at his desk, ignoring the meaningful looks and furious volley of whispers that passed between them.

"Hey, Boss," Tony called cautiously, curiosity getting the better of his sense of self-preservation. He did, however, stay safely out of Gibbs' reach.

"What, DiNozzo?"

"I don't suppose you'd tell us what Abby was thanking you for."

"Nope," he said sharply, studying the papers on his desk. He was enjoying this – it was always fun driving DiNozzo nuts – but smiling would spoil the game. He only smiled when he wanted to worry them.

"Just checking." Tony tapped his pen on the desk impatiently and eyed Kate. She shook her head 'no' insistently.

"Give it up, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked. Swiftly, he stood up and walked toward the elevator. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in autopsy."

While he hadn't gotten the information he wanted, Tony was happy tofigure out something. He grinned at Kate and whispered, "He's going to take a nap."