A/N: Well, hi there. I'm not even going to try and give you an excuse for why I only really update every two or three months, because the truth is I'm actually just super lazy. It's summer break now, though, so maybe I'll do more? I feel bad :c Yet, not bad enough to stop XD ok but yeah I have a whole day to write so hopefully something will actually get DONE.
Disclaimer: IT'S IN EVERY OTHER CHAPTER AS WELL OK I DON'T OWN NCIS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS OR ANYTHING OK OK OK BYE
"I'd like that," Ziva responded to Abby's invitation. This was good, she reassured herself. Abby wanted her to come over. Abby didn't hate her.
"Fantastic!" Abby squealed, her perky voice a mere shadow of what it used to be. "I just have to shut down my babies, and we can go! " The Goth ran around the lab, preparing to start shutting everything off, before catching a glimpse out the window. "Oh… it's like 10am, Zivs. Um… I knew that."
Ziva simply laughed. "Meet me in the bull pen tonight, okay? I will have some paperwork; I wouldn't want to forget to get you. I'll be quite the busy butterfly today," she responded, not realizing she had confused the terms 'busy bee' and 'social butterfly.'
Bee, Abby wanted to correct, but refrained. Ziva's idiomatic errors had been becoming less and less frequent as more time passed, and Abby wanted to preserve that quirk of hers. It had seemed so irritating at first, but as the agent grew on Abby, so did her mistakes. They were adorable.
Perhaps busy butterfly was a correct statement, considering how much of Ziva's work ended up taking place talking to other people. She wasn't lacking in social skills per se, but the woman was serious about her work and preferred to do her work at her desk- when she couldn't be in the field, of course. The day dragged on and she found it hard to resist the temptation of visiting Abby in her lab, perhaps with a Caf-Pow or two. Gibbs was the one who visited Abby with glorious refills of caffeinated beverage. Ziva had work to be doing.
However, her calm, focused façade melted completely when a Goth scientist full of boundless energy skipped- literally skipped- in front of Ziva, setting an empty cup of Caf-Pow on her desk and wordlessly pouting.
"May I help you, Abby?" She inquired, ignoring the curious stares of Tony and Tim, as they wondered why the Abby had gone to Ziva rather than one of the gentlemen.
Abby, rather than answering verbally, simply picked her cup up again and shook it to demonstrate that it was empty. She then set the cup back on the desk, now on top of Ziva's papers, stamped her foot, and made her pout even more exaggerated. And adorable, Ziva thought to herself.
"Um, Abbs, you want me to get you a refill or something?" Timothy McGee called from his desk. He'd never admit it, but he was mildly jealous of all the attention Abby seemed to be giving Ziva today. When he went to give Abby a Caf-Pow upon arriving at noon, he immediately noticed she'd already had one. At first, he assumed Gibbs had brought it to her, but Abby's way of greeting the agent was to ask if Gibbs had arrived yet, and ask wasn't it sweet that Ziva brought her a Caf-Pow early?
Yes, it was sweet. But it confused him. Ziva and Abby weren't friends. Ziva didn't bring Abby Caf-Pows. Abby didn't think Ziva was sweet. Ziva didn't look up from her work for anyone, especially not Abby. Abby didn't go to Ziva and pout when she wanted something; she did that to Tim or Gibbs, sometimes Tony. It didn't make sense.
In his despair and confusion, Tim missed Tony getting up to bring some papers down to Ducky. He missed Ziva chuckling and run out to get Abby another Caf-Pow. He missed Abby sitting down at Ziva's desk and put her feet up, taking out Ziva's knife and pretending to be the Mossad agent. He missed Abby throwing her head back and laughing, an actual genuine laugh, something nobody had heard for ages. He missed Abby suddenly stop laughing and grow captivated by the knife. He missed Abby twirling it in her fingers, staring in wonder and awe.
He missed Abby haphazardly throwing the knife back to where it belonged as the elevator dinged and Ziva returned. He missed Abby kissing Ziva's cheek as she graciously accepted the Caf-Pow.
He did not miss Abby nervously tugging on the wristband she wore to cover the scars from her attempted suicide. He did not miss the subtle remnants of blood peeking out.
