United States of Abby – 4
Author: GataChica
Rating: FR18
Warnings: Language, sex
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby
Spoilers: slight for Ex-file
Challenges: United States of ______ Challenge
Summary: There's more to Abby than meets the eye.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, its characters or any other aspect of the show. This story is written purely for entertainment and I receive no monetary gain. No copyright infringement is intended.
Ducky and Abby sat down to a dinner of cannelloni, salad, and bread. Abby expected an explanation, but instead Ducky began asking her questions.
"My dear Abby, have you ever had other experiences in which you found yourself in a strange place, without knowing how you got there?"
Abby nodded, her mouth full of cannelloni. After swallowing, she added, "Not for a long time, though."
"What about finding things like clothes that you don't remember buying?"
"Yeah, it's always weird when that happens. Does that mean something?"
"I'm not sure yet. Now I'm going to ask you a very personal question, Abby. Do you remember having sex with Agent Gibbs last night?"
She slowly shook her head, her sudden dry mouth making it difficult to swallow her food. She took several gulps of water to get everything down. "He told me that we did but I have absolutely no memory."
"And you don't remember coming home with me this evening?"
Her eyes suddenly grew wide and she began to stand. "Oh, Ducky, I'm so sorry –"
"It's alright, Abby. It wasn't the same as last night." He looked at her solemnly, although amusement and a touch of regret threatened to take over his expression.
"What happened then?" She couldn't eat anymore; she had lost her appetite and her mouth was still dry. "I think I was planning to go home with Gibbs tonight. Why am I here instead?"
"Abby, it appears that you have multiple personalities."
"I have what? Are you serious, Ducky?" she asked, horrified.
"Yes, my dear. The part of you that slept with Jethro last night calls herself Stephanie, while today a child part named Jasmine appeared."
Abby held her head in her hands and groaned. "Oh, no, Ducky, I'm never going to live this down! How can I make it stop? What if the child part comes out while I'm in court? Or this Stephanie – how did she end up sleeping with Gibbs?"
"Apparently she's quite –" he cleared his throat before continuing, "—quite sexual."
"Oh, no," she repeated. "Do I need to be locked up, Ducky? How can I be responsible for my actions when I don't even know about them?"
"I'm taking you to a psychiatrist tomorrow, my dear. She's an expert in this problem and I'm sure she will provide excellent guidance."
"Oh, no," she said for the third time.
"Please try to eat some more dinner, Abigail," Ducky said quietly. She looked up to see a gentle, almost tender expression on his face. "I know this is very upsetting, but there are ways to deal with it. And tomorrow we shall find out what they are." He reached across the table to stroke her hand soothingly.
As he watched, her face changed from fearful to playful, and she winked at him before taking his hand and squeezing it. "Oh dear God," he muttered. "Stephanie?"
"That's me," she said with a provocative smile. Her voice was low and sultry. He watched, momentarily stunned, as she walked around the table and placed her arms around his neck. "Ducky," she murmured in his ear, "I've always wondered what kind of lover you would be."
He attempted to remove her arms from his neck, standing up to face her. "Stephanie, bring Abby back. I need to talk to her."
She slowly licked her lips then grasped the lapels of his shirt and pulled him closer. "Oh, you don't really want her, do you?" she asked. "Abby is not nearly as much fun as I am."
He pushed her hands away and backed up. "Stephanie," he said in his best "no-nonsense command" voice. "This is completely unacceptable. If you will not bring Abby back, at least take your hands off me." When she grudgingly complied, he added, "And keep them off."
She sat back down in her chair, sulking and avoiding eye contact. "Finish your dinner so you can go to bed." Her eyes lit up momentarily, and he quickly qualified it. "Alone."
Giving him a hurt look, she began to eat. He watched her carefully, worried that she would try to – well, attack him, in a manner of speaking – again. Jethro had implied that she was very insistent, so he remained wary.
When she was finished eating, she offered to help him with the dishes. Ducky knew better than that. "No," he told her sharply. "You need to go to sleep now. I'll show you to your room."
He picked up her bag and she followed him upstairs, watching him with the intensity of a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. When he opened the door to her room, she tried to get him inside with her, but he was prepared to resist. "Go to sleep, Stephanie," he ordered. "Immediately."
She looked for a moment as if she would cry, but since he avoided her gaze, she knew that would not be successful. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly.
"Good night," he said as he closed the door.
"Good night, Ducky!" she called.
As he walked downstairs, Ducky wondered if she would actually stay in the room and sleep. He was a bit surprised (and disappointed, although he would not admit it) that she had not come after him by the time he reached the kitchen. Neither did she appear while he washed the dishes and put the food away. He sighed as he put out the lights and began to climb the stairs. As he passed her room he had a sudden image of how she would look in one of her naughtier outfits, slowly discarding the clothes while she walked towards him.
He stopped, shook his head to remove the unwanted picture, then hurried to his bedroom.
He had almost drifted into sleep, but was still in that limbo between sleeping and waking when he felt the bed dip beside him. At first he thought someone had broken into the house, then he found himself with an armful of warm, naked Abby. Or rather, Stephanie.
He quickly became alert. "What are you doing here?" he asked, unnerved. "Put your clothes on and go back to bed."
"Awww, Ducky," she complained, unbuttoning his pajama shirt and pressing her body against his. "Don't you think it feels good?"
He didn't trust himself to answer at that moment, because he might tell her the truth. Instead, he pushed her away but that strategy proved ineffective. The next moment she was kissing him deeply, one hand making its way downward. He grabbed her hand to stop it, knowing that if it went much further he would no longer be able to pretend that he didn't want her.
"Stephanie," he managed to choke out, barely escaping her lips as she tried to kiss him again, "I told you to go to sleep."
"I couldn't sleep," she said petulantly. "I kept thinking about you, and I got really turned on."
"Why didn't you take care of it yourself?" he asked, slapping her hand away again.
"It would be a poor substitute for the real thing," she said softly.
"No," he told her again, but his voice had lost some of its certainty.
She finally managed to touch the bulge in his pajama pants, and he groaned. "Stop, please."
"You don't really want me to stop, do you?" she asked, kissing his chest as she carefully set free his erection.
"Yes, I do," he said, but even he knew he did not sound convincing.
"Then make me," she told him, straddling his hips and preparing to lower herself onto him.
He groaned again, put his arms around her, and cooperated with the inevitable.
