"Just give me a week. Seven days, seven nights," he said, steering his car into his usual space. On the other end of the phone, she sighed, glancing at the monitor again.

"A week? You think you can convince me in a week?" she turned the screen off with an impatient gesture.

"Call it a trial period. If you don't like the toy, just return it to the store in it's original packaging," he grinned, glancing in the mirror. He straightened his tie and opened the door. "I'm confident that you'll enjoy the experience."

"So cocky," she shook her head, urging the results to move faster.

"I'd also need you to agree to a few more things," he said.

"I'm giving you the week, what else do you want?" she asked, twirling in her chair. Her pigtails swung just a half second behind and it amused her.

"I'll get back to you with a list. I'm at the door and the boss is catching up," he cast a glance over his shoulder, seeing Gibbs struggling with something in his car.

"You've got two hours. Tell my silver haired fox that I'm expecting chocolate for the surprise I've got waiting down here," she laughed and the phone went dead in his hand. He hated when she did that.
*

"So, I'm told you've earned chocolate?" the gentle voice startled her and she nearly fell from her chair at the hand on her shoulder. He caught her smoothly, that knowing and apologetic look on his face.

"I've earned all the chocolate in Hershey, PA, in fact, which is actually a lot less than you'd think You'd be better off with Swiss-made imported bars or maybe Cadbury, from England? And dark, not milk, it's better for you," she grinned. "Or there's the Chocolate Bar in New York. They're great for domestic—"

"Abby," gentle turned to the warning tone she loved and she put on her serious face.

"So, those prints on the handle of the knife? Not just blood, chocolate. The stains on the sheet? Chocolate. Well, and blood, but the chocolate is a particular brand, all organic and only sold in three stores near the hotel. I got the surveillance tapes from the stores last night and guess who shows up buying three bars on Monday afternoon?" Abby pressed a quick series of buttons and pulled up a still from the tapes. "Ta-da!"

"Great job, Abs," Gibbs was already gone, his voice carrying through the closing door. Damn, she hated when he did that.
*

"I did it, okay? She was a fucking bitch and got what she deserved," the suspect, a thin, moderately attractive woman in her thirties, sat back in her chair. Behind the mirror, Tony passed McGee the box of M&Ms, and both were surprised when Gibbs reached over and tipped a few into his own hand.

"Better than cable, huh, boys?" Gibbs said softly, watching Ziva lean back in her own chair, carefully reflecting the other woman's posture.

"More like free p—yeah, Boss," Tony winced but the slap didn't come, just another of those soft chuckles. He relaxed, reaching for the bottle of juice at his feet. Then the smack came. One day he'd learn.

"So she deserved to be stabbed forty three times?" Ziva asked in carefully measured syllables.

"Yes. She manipulated my little sister into marrying her, risking her entire military career, then goes prowling for women while Cara's in Afghanistan risking her life for this country everyday. Yeah, she deserved it, and a lot more," the woman's voice carried clearly through the small speakers.

"Well, I believe we're done here," Ziva closed the file in front of her and rose. She joined the others in the hallway, saying nothing.

"Nice job, David," Gibbs finally broke the silence as they entered the bullpen. "I expect the reports on my desk by six, then you're free to go."

"I must be dreaming," Tony slumped over his desk. "An actual night off. An actual night off with time for a date. Thank you, God."

"I'm not God, DiNozzo, although more than a few have made that mistake," Gibbs called over his shoulder.

"You have big plans then, DiNozzo?" Ziva leaned casually against the edge of his desk, a little too casually for his taste.

"Only the biggest. Say, Ziva, you're a woman," Tony said as if it had just occurred to him.

"Yes, Tony, I am, and no, Tony, I don't care if you're a man. I told you no and I meant it," Ziva moved quickly to her own chair.

"Not where I was going and you'll change your mind. I was going to ask for your opinion, but I guess I'll have settle for McGee."

"I...I'm not a woman, Tony," McGee looked over his monitor at the two, wishing they'd just shut up. His head was still pounding from getting punched earlier and he'd give his arms for an ice pack and a nice soft bed, but Ducky said no sleeping for at least eight hours.

"I know that, Probie, and it's a good thing you aren't because, man, you'd be an ugly chick."

"And you'd probably try to kiss me," McGee muttered.

"Tony, I didn't know you had a thing for, what's the word? Transsexuals?"

"I don't. It's a long story, and one I'd rather not tell, thanks," Tony felt his face burn just a little at the memory. Wasn't so bad at the time, it was just that people kept talking about it. "Know what, guys? Just forget it."

"Oh, Tony, you can tell us. You know how I hate it when you pout," Ziva smirked.
*

Abby scowled in her lab, staring at the neatly printed list, written on the back of a pizza receipt. She couldn't be considering this, not seriously. It broke at least half a dozen of the rules she didn't have, and probably wouldn't be following anyway, but this was major.

"Seven days, Abby girl, it's only seven days," she reminded herself, reading the list again. Most of it was basic stuff, things she already owned. A few she'd have to buy, nothing that surprised her, and everything that told her his plan didn't exactly require a new wardrobe. For the most part, it looked like her usual grocery list.

It was the last item and the note that bugged her, a key to her apartment and the words anytime, anywhere. Her apartment was her sanctuary and she didn't want anyone just walking in. Of course, he wasn't just anyone, and he'd been there loads of times, but she never gave out keys. Granted, Gibbs had one, but that was only for emergencies. Like when she would run out of caffeine in the middle of the night and he'd hit a wall with the boat and so he'd come over and they'd watch the sunrise from her couch. This was different.

She was still thinking about the list when the doors slid open.

"Oh, hey, McGee," she smiled tiredly, tucking the list into her pocket.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Go? Oh, the reading. Sorry. I was just thinking about..." Abby reached for her jacket.

"Everything but me?" McGee said quietly. "It's okay. I'm getting used to it."

"You know that's not true. I still adore you, Tim," she rubbed her knuckles against his cheek. "And I'm so proud of you for doing this tonight and so glad you invited me."

"Invited you where? Can I come?" Tony asked loudly from the doorway. McGee blushed and Abby frowned.

"None of your business and no," Abby said firmly, taking McGee's hand and pulling him along as she walked out.

"Maybe we should ask him, Abby," McGee said softly as they waited for the elevator. Tony stood a few feet away, conspicuous in his attempt to be inconspicuous. Another second and he'd start whistling and then McGee would be forced to kill him. Despite the aspirin, his head was still at a dull throb.

"It's your gig, McGee," she shrugged. As McGee turned his back to her, she pulled the list from her pocket and caught Tony's eye.

"I'm, ah, doing a reading tonight. Abby's coming as moral support. If you, um, wanted to tag along, Tony," McGee stammered. Abby saw Tony bite back a laugh, and mimed ripping the list then signed ‘quid pro quo,' one of the few signs she'd been willing to teach him.

"Sure, McGee. I'd love to," Tony threw an arm around Tim's shoulder, ever so subtly flipping Abby off as he did so. "This reading, there will be girls there, yes?"

"Ah, I believe so," McGee shot Abby a doubtful look and she just shrugged.
*

The small girl with the severe haircut and unfortunate glasses cleared her throat for a fifth time and Abby considered taking her a glass of water or better yet, a shot of something to calm her nerves. Tony sighed for the seventeenth time and flashed her a tortured look. McGee was getting the third round of drinks and blushing profusely at the flirtations of the barista.

"She walks like night, brings sunshine to us all, eats fear like breakfast cereal, breathes peppermint and love..." the girl on stage continued, eyes firmly glued the notebook in her trembling hands.

"You've got to be kidding," Tony said under his breath, wishing the place at least sold beer. You'd have to be drunk to enjoy this, although Abby seemed pretty content. Goths couldn't be trusted for their taste in poetry though, everyone knew that. Give ‘em one faux-Poe and a little melancholy and they were hooked, he thought.

"Be nice, Tony. It's her first time," Abby whispered, lifting his hand from her thigh for at least the fourth time. "And keep those paws to yourself."

"Have you thought about the list?" he asked, folding his hands on the table like a good little boy.

"Come back to my place when we're done here. I have some questions," she said, watching McGee's return. He tripped, as she expected, over the backpack of the twelve year sitting two tables away. He also recovered well, only spilling a little of Abby's soda on his shirt.

"All right, guys, I'm up next. Wish me luck?" he looked only at Abby as he bent down to pick up his laptop. Yes, he would be reading directly from his computer. Geek, Tony thought, with a surprising amount of affection mixed in with the usual extreme irritation.

"You know it," Abby smiled, standing to lean over the small table and kiss him. She questioned the wisdom of it when she saw how red his face had grown as he headed for the stage.
*

"That was...weird," Tony said later, buckled into the passenger seat of Abby's car. It was also weird that she was driving an SUV, but he decided to leave that conversation for later.

"What?" she yelled over the radio, reaching to turn down the latest sounds of Merchant Death Syndrome or some equally oddly named band.

"That was weird, the reading," he said again, his ears ringing.

"Yeah, a little on the maudlin side, but McGee did good," she danced in her seat, to some beat in the music he couldn't have located with a GPS system and a guide.

"He's actually a decent writer. If you tell him I said that, I'll kill you."

"Love to see you try, Tony. I'm quite handy with a roll of duct tape and a soda, just think what I could do with a little time to plan," she said, grin plastered in place and slightly threatening in the shadows. "Speaking of plans, wanna clue me in on yours?"

"Does that mean you agree?"

"Not yet. I told you, I have questions. Questions best answered over a pizza and a movie, I think," she parallel parked across the street from her building, edging the truck smoothly between two smaller cars. He followed her inside and onto the elevator.

"Have a movie in mind?" he asked, leaning against the wall. Abby thought he did that a little too often and a little too well, looking a little too much like a cat lying in wait for prey. And she liked it a little too much. It would be easy to step across the space between them and press the length of her body against his, tucking her face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. She stayed where she was, carefully balanced on her tall boots, keys in her hand and bag on her shoulder.

"Not really, but I thought we could decide together for once."

"Hmm... something from the John Hughes oeuvre perhaps? Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall?"

"Sixteen Candles or Breakfast Club? I can't do Pretty in Pink, not tonight," she said, unlocking her door. Tony headed straight for the shelves, and Abby left him to it, dropping her bag in the bedroom and peeling out of her vinyl pants. When she returned, he was on the phone to the pizza place, and she was in pajamas.

"Food's on the way, movie's ready to go, your Caf-Pow's on the table," he said as he placed the phone back on the cradle. She folded herself into the space between the couch and the coffee table, handing him her brush. He pulled the bands out of her braids gently and handed her the remote.

"Do you ever think maybe we're a little too comfortable with each other, DiNozzo?" she turned to look at him.

"No such thing, Abs," he touched her head, turning her back toward the television. Honestly, he didn't mind pampering her, just a little. He liked the way her hair felt under his fingers, and the way she tilted her head just a little against his thigh when he was done. She curled her hand around his ankle, scratching lightly along his calf under his jeans and he liked that, too. The women he dated didn't always appreciate the small touches, at least not enough to give them, although they'd accept them gladly.

"So, your list," she said finally, fifteen minutes into the film. "I'm totally down for most of it, and totally curious, but I'm not giving you a key."

"Okay. I can live with that," he said, drawing the brush over the length of the strands in his hand. He gathered all of her hair, just the way she'd shown him, and wrapped it into a loose bun, letting his fingers linger a little longer than necessary on the back of her neck.

"And this anytime, anywhere thing? I assume we won't be doing anything that could result in Gibbs accidentally-on-purpose shooting you or either us of standing on an unemployment line?"

"Well, I did have this thought about Madam's office, but we can scratch that if you'd rather not," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder, tracing the spiderweb along her neck.

"Are you trying to distract me?" she asked. Whatever he said, she was already thoroughly distracted and had been since he'd started playing with her hair. Rubbing her neck was not helping the thoughts to form or the words to be coherent.

"Maybe," he answered honestly. "That whole no touching at the reading, that was hot. And kissing McGee to make me jealous? That was kind of hot, too."

"Wasn't about you, Tony. Besides, it's not like you're my boyfriend," she nipped at the inside of his thigh, just above his knee, knowing he'd barely feel it through the denim. He stroked the back of her head, smoothing her hair.

"Boyfriend? No, definitely not," he said, leaning forward. He didn't know what the hell he was to her, actually. Definitions hadn't been big on either of their lists lately. "I haven't been anyone's boyfriend since I was seventeen."

"Yeah? Was she a cheerleader?" Abby asked. He kissed her neck before answering, taking his time and making her squirm just a little. He was learning, slowly, what she liked, what was allowed.

"They, cheerleaders, plural. It was messy," he said as the doorbell rang. Abby sprang up to answer it, and he took the moment to let out the breath he'd not quite been holding. They'd been doing this slow dance for weeks, late night movies, the odd phone call, touching just enough to make his jeans uncomfortable but not a damn thing that would give any release. If it were anyone else, they'd be in bed by now. The courtship, if that's what this was, would've taken about fifteen seconds, but this was Abby. So, god only knew what it really was.

"Did they find out you were tumbling with the whole squad?" she asked, returning with two boxes and a stack of napkins. She settled on the couch beside him this time, thigh pressed against his.

"Exactly. The head cheerleader missed being crowned Homecoming Queen because the alternate gave her a black eye," he said around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

"I wouldn't have bothered with the other girls, I'd have kicked your ass," she gestured at him with her breadstick. "It's something I've never understood, going after the other woman, or in your case, women, rather than the guy."

"Oh, they came after me, but it was less physical and more rumor mill. I had to start dating college girls three towns over. Wasn't so bad, really. I learned a few things," he got that soft nostalgic look, and Abby rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sitting through another bracing tale of young Anthony's amazing sexual discoveries. Not tonight, please," she flopped dramatically against him, careful not to bump his glass. "I'm begging you."

"Begging, huh?" he said, voice just a fraction lower. "Not yet, but you will be."

"Back to that. When does the week start?" she sat up again, reaching for her soda.

"That's your call."

"Friday after work? That gives us the weekend if you want it and assuming we don't catch a case," she said. They hadn't had a Sunday off in six weeks, and free Saturdays were becoming a distant memory, but it was worth hoping.

"Friday after work," he agreed.

Subtle: Thursday

"You're late, DiNozzo and where the hell is Abby?" Gibbs hadn't even looked up from his computer, but when he did, Tony knew the glare would not be pretty.

"Sorry, Boss. Her car wouldn't start. We had to call a cab," Tony placed the conciliatory large coffee at Gibbs' elbow. "Peace offering, Boss, from Abs."

"I know what it is, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, raising a single eyebrow at Tony's rumpled shirt as the agent settled at his desk. There were some things he just didn't need to know. Besides, Ziva would have caught the whole exchange, and in five, four, three, two...

"We, DiNozzo?" Ziva stood over Tony's desk, one hand on her hip.

"Don't you have work to do?" Tony snapped.

"Ooh, bad date, Tony?"

"Actually I spent last night having a nice little three way with Probie and Abs," Tony said clearly. McGee began to choke at his desk. Gibbs thought briefly about stopping them, but hell, they didn't have a case, and it was interesting, if annoying, to watch. "You wouldn't believe McGee's skill. Such talent for a man with so little experience. He has a way with—"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said softly, hand on Tony's shoulder. "Unless you relish the idea of being unemployed, don't finish that sentence."

"Words, Boss. I was going to say words," Tony insisted, unable to avoid the coming smack. "He's quite the writer, actually." McGee turned a deeper scarlet, still gasping but in no immediate danger, unless he could die of shock. A compliment from DiNozzo? Any second, there'd be pigs flying in with ice skates and a banner saying hell had really and truly frozen over.
*

"You'll get it when you get it, okay?" Abby snapped at Gibbs. "I can't work miracles down here and while my science is strong, it takes time. Time, Gibbs, meaning hours not minutes, not instantaneous and not right now. Coming down here every fifteen seconds doesn't make the process go any faster. It just makes for a pissed off lab tech."

"I've got two dead kids, and you've got an hour," Gibbs stared back at her, both of them conscious of the rest of the team holding their collective breath at this little scene and neither of them caring. Gibbs blinked first, turning sharply on his heel, and tossing something over his shoulder at Abby as he walked out. McGee and Ziva scurried after him, Tony lingered for a moment, and Abby looked at the wrapper in her hand.

"He remembered," she smiled to herself, tucking the 99% Pure Dark bar next to her monitor.
*

Ziva thought it was a bad idea. Cruel, juvenile, mildly amusing. McGee screamed like a frightened child, and she didn't blame him.

"Goddamn it, Tony!" McGee whirled around, the imprint from his sweater marking the side of his face. Tony jumped back, laughing, slipping the whistle back into his pocket.

"No sleeping at work, Probie," Tony shook his head. "Gibbs said we could go but we could barely hear it over the sonorous sounds of your snores."

"I wasn't, wasn't sleeping," McGee said, wiping the trail of drool from his cheek.

"Sure, Probie. Go home," Tony called over his shoulder as he strolled toward the elevator. He frowned when Ziva stepped into the compartment with him.

"That wasn't very nice, Agent DiNozzo," she said, reaching past him to push the button for the ground floor. She noted that the basement button was already lit. "Going to harass Abby before you leave?"

"Not exactly. There's a subtlety to our friendship that you wouldn't understand," Tony said, leaning against the wall. Abby was right, he did that a lot, but he looked good while he did it, and it wasn't lost on Officer David from the way her cheeks flushed. Yeah, right, she wasn't interested.

"Subtle? Oh, Agent DiNozzo, there is nothing subtle about you," she smiled slightly. "Isn't it against the rules to date a coworker?"

"We aren't dating."

"But you sleep at her house?"

"When it's convenient, yes," he said. "You've never really had friends before, have you, Ziva?"

"You aren't just friends, Tony, or didn't you realize?"

"Realize what, Officer David?"

"Oh, Tony, Tony," she shook her head as she stepped off of the elevator. "Good night."

"Yeah," Tony let the door slide shut, mind racing to figure out what she could possibly know.
*

"I just want you to know that I don't hate you anymore," Abby belted out, shimmying around the edge of the lab table back toward her computer. "Not quite true, Kurt, my love, but we're getting closer," she looked at the image of the crime scene photo on her large screen. Today's victim had looked eerily like Cobain, although his girlfriend most certainly bore no resemblance to Courtney Love. Demi Moore in GI Jane, maybe, except not so alive and Navy, not Army.

"His name was Daniel," Tony said from the doorway.

"I know," she aimed the remote over her shoulder and the noise level dropped dramatically. "But he looks like a Kurt. Any news upstairs?"

"McGee screams like a girl?"

"I knew that. It's kind of sexy. Anything else? Like being able to go home?" she said hopefully.

"Yeah. Except you're not going home, Ms. Sciuto," he moved from the door to stand behind her. She tilted her head back into his shoulder and he could smell the green tea shampoo she used under the gun metal perfume.

"I'm not?" she said, sliding her hands over his at her shoulders.

"No. You're coming to my house for dinner, a movie and a massage because you've got some serious knots here," he ran his thumbs along the sides of her neck and she sighed. "After that, you can go home. Or not."
*

Or not, Abby thought, sprawled on Tony's bed. Lush was the only word to describe his bedroom, but she was twenty minutes past being able to form words so she took everything in through sleepy eyes and touch. She lay on a satiny soft comforter in rich browns, surrounded by walls the color of powdered cocoa. He'd lit candles that smelled like coffee and chocolate and made the room glow softly. There was soft jazz playing from hidden speakers, sounds like New Orleans on a warm summer night, sounds that felt like home. A hand-woven chenille blanket covered her legs while Tony worked on her back with expert hands.

Abby noticed that the bed dipped a little under his weight as he knelt beside her, and she could smell his cologne along with all the candle scents. He, and the oil he rubbed into her skin, smelled faintly of vanilla. The cumulative effect was a very sleepy Abby with one hell of a craving for a coffee ice cream sundae. If she'd been thinking clearly, or at all, and capable of speech, she'd have teased him about the whole seduction scene he had set up. Instead, she made a little purring noise as his hands moved down her back toward her hips.

"You still with me, Abs?" he said softly.

"Mmm..." was as articulate as she could manage. "Mhmpf," was her sound of protest as his hands stopped touching her. "Hey," she found words again as he slipped off of the bed. "No."

"Yes," he said. "I'm going to start dinner and you're going to take a long shower."

"No clothes," she murmured, folding her arms under her head. "Dumb to shower and put on dirty clothes."

"You won't have to. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," he closed the door behind him and Abby rolled onto her back. She took her time getting up, enjoying the watery, warm feeling in all of her muscles. When she stepped into the shower, the music changed, instrumental jazz replaced by Tom Waits. It didn't really surprise her, not anymore than finding her preferred soap on the shelf next to the fancy exfoliating stuff Tony used. She crooned along to "San Diego Serenade" and tried not to ask too many questions about the fine line they were walking.
*

"Ooh, we're actually eating at the table?" Abby looked skeptical, standing just inside the dining room. The table was set for two, ivory candles burning, a bottle of wine and glasses waiting. She turned to Tony. "Is this a date?"

"You have dates with boyfriends. I am not your boyfriend," Tony slipped past her, a dish of pasta in one hand. It was a little known secret, but he actually could cook. He just preferred not to, and when he feigned ignorance, women ‘taught' him how to make their favorite dishes, leading to steamy scenes in and out of the kitchen. He headed back to the kitchen for the asparagus and bread but Abby stopped him in the doorway. She just looked at him for a long minute, not quite her Gibbs-glare, but studying him all the same. Finally she smiled.

"You bought me pajamas."

"I did," he agreed, conscious of her fingers slipping inside his and the way she tickled his palms.

"I like them," she said with a little nod. "I like you, Tony."

"I like you, too, Abs," he liked the way the soft cotton skimmed her breasts, and how she pressed them against him, pushing him against the wall. He returned her hug, noticing how she turned her face into the space between his shoulder and neck, just brushing the tip of her nose against his skin.

"This is good, right, Tony?" she whispered, her arms just a little tighter around him.

"This?"

"Us."

"Yeah, this is good," he said, rubbing his hand over her back lightly. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure what ‘this' was, but she was soft and warm in his arms and that was enough for the moment.

"Dinner," she let go of him as suddenly as she'd taken hold, pulling out one of the chairs. He stood for a moment, watching her reach for the wine.
*

Abby lay with her head against his thigh, watching him almost as much as the movie. She was amused when they squirmed in tandem at the scene unfolding on the screen. Being female had certain advantages, she decided as she noticed the rise under his jeans. She couldn't blame him, the sight of Maggie Gyllenhaal bent over that desk had dampened her panties on a number of nights and the fact that he was getting off on it turned her on more.

"Tony," she said softly, dragging her hand over his leg. He tore his eyes away from the screen, taking a moment to focus on her. "Am I sleeping here tonight?"

"You're thinking about sleep?" he paused the movie.

"Uh-huh, and beds and my bed is all the way across town and you'd have to drive me," she pushed herself to sitting and curled under his arm, counting on her sleepyAbby cuteness to work its charms on him. "And it's late so I think maybe I should stay here, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine. You know the couch is yours when you need it," he said, wondering what she was up to. She never asked, she just stayed or didn't.

"Not where I want to sleep," she stroked his cheek, feeling the barest hint of stubble as she turned his face toward hers. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Abby," he sighed, spotting the signs of an internal debate beginning between his two heads. One screamed an insistent yes and had visions of an elaborate victory dance. The other had a twenty-seven point prepared list of why this was a very bad idea. So, Tony did what he normally did in these situations and listened to his cock which rose happily as Abby stroked his thigh and looked up at him with slightly parted lips. "Just sleep?"

"Uh-huh," she grinned, her hand slipping between his legs and along the seam of his jeans. "Just sleep," she promised even as her fingers suggested otherwise, moving under his shirt and over his belly. He groaned, curling his hands into the fabric of the couch.

"Then you have to stop that, now," he closed his eyes, knowing that if he looked at her, if he touched her, there would be no sleeping and no beds because he wouldn't make it that far.

"And if I don't?" she flicked her tongue against his neck, kneeling beside him. "Are you having a near occasion of sin, Tony?"

"No, this would be a full blown sin," he exhaled slowly, tensing as her fingers found his nipple and pinched lightly. "Lust with a side of gluttony."

"Told you we should've watched Seven," she extricated her hand and kissed his cheek gently before sliding to the other end of the couch. Tony shrugged, reaching for his beer.

"You are the strangest woman I have ever been involved with," he shook his head as she stretched her feet into his lap. Her toenails were painted a pearly pink and it surprised him, although nothing about her should surprise him anymore.

"We're involved now?" she wiggled her toes at him and he sighed again, lifting her feet and standing up.

"I don't know what we are, but clearly, I'm losing my mind," he disappeared down the hall. Abby stretched, hoping he'd come back with the peppermint lotion that made her feet tingle.

Things You Can't Take Back: Friday

"Jesus! Do you think you could manage to not get us killed? Gibbs would be just a little upset if we died before we brought this guy in," Tony braced himself against the dash as they screeched to a stop at the red light, close enough to the car in front of them for him to read the fine print on the driver's coffee cup.

"Tony, if I were going to kill you, it would be a far more private affair," Ziva smiled sweetly. "Did you have a nice evening?"

"Uh-huh," he glared at her for another moment, wondering what the in hell was wrong with her. And what was wrong with him that he kept letting her drive. He wasn't this much of a masochist, not really.

"Did you spend it with Abby?" her sweet smile changed into a vague smirk.

"As a matter of fact yes. We had dinner and watched a movie," he said, his stomach lurching as she slammed on the gas.

"Tell me something, Tony. Why do American men have so much trouble with relationships?"

"Because women are insane," he squeezed his eyes closed and said a quick prayer as she wove in and out of traffic on the two lane highway.

"But you must find the insanity alluring or you wouldn't date so many women."

"That insanity is exactly why I date so many women. A woman can look completely normal from the outside, but then you buy her dinner, maybe have a little naked time, and she turns out to be a stark-raving nut."

"But you haven't had so many dates lately, have you, Tony?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in my personal life, Ziva?"

"I told you, I'm trying to understand relationships."

"I'm really the wrong person to ask. What I do, those aren't relationships."

"Do tell me, what are they?"

"Moments. They're nice moments briefly shared before she reveals herself to be crazy and before I move on."

"So you're having moments with Abby? Does she know that's all they are?"

"I already know she's crazy," he smiled to himself as he climbed out of the car.
*

"Caf-Pow and a Clown Cake? Gibbs, it's not my birthday," Abby gleefully accepted her junk food, placing it near her computer. "New case?"

"Just a visit," he pulled the other chair over and sat down.

"What's going on, Gibbs? You never just come down here."

"You weren't home last night," he said, looking at her for a long moment.

"I stayed at Tony's. He gives the best massages, by the way," she said as she clicked various windows closed. The Clown Cake wrapper crackled loudly as she tore it open, offering Gibbs half. He shook his head.

"Don't know how you eat those damned things, actually," he took a sip of coffee, not quite sure what to say.

"Eh, sugar is sugar except when it's not," she shrugged. "So, really, why are you here?"

"McGee and David are torturing Tony, and I didn't want to have to shoot them. Too much paperwork," he stood up then, giving her a slightly crooked smile before pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Gibbs?" she caught his arm as he started to walk away.

"Yeah, Abs?"

"You don't have anything to worry about," she squeezed his hand for a moment, then turned back to work.
*

"Ah, just the man I wanted to see," Abby whirled in her chair to face him, grin freezing then falling then reappearing as she spotted the gallon of soda in his hand. "McGee. I was hoping for Ducky, actually, but you come bearing gifts of caffeine. It was time for a refill. From the Bossman, I presume?"

"Your presumption is correct. I also come bearing cold case files."

"How cold? Are we talking chilly Wisconsin winter or Ice Ages?"

"A little from column A, a little from column B," he shrugged, laying the files on her table. "Listen, are you free tonight? I thought maybe we could get dinner or something."

"I can't, I'm sorry," she flipped through idly through the test results, sorting them into piles of "deadly boring," "naptime" and "better than watching paint dry."

"Plans with Tony?" McGee asked carefully, studying his feet.

"Yeah, actually."

"You're spending a lot of time with him lately."

"I am, yes," she so didn't want to have this conversation. She crossed to another of the tables, staring at the rows of evidence bags. "No more than you're spending Ziva," she added under her breath.

"Is that a good idea, Abs? I mean, he's Tony and you're you," he struggled to find the right words.

"And we're friends, McGee."

"The way we were friends?" he met her eyes across the table. She took a quick breath and a step back from the table. "You know if you keep this up, Abs, you'll run out of co-workers to fuck."

"That's not fair, and you know it, Tim."

"There's more than one reason the guys in the mailroom call you Energizer Abby," he smirked, going in for the kill. From the look on her face, he'd hit home and he was immediately sorry. She just stood there for a moment, lower lip quivering just a tiny bit.

"Get out of my lab, McGee," she finally said, slamming the door to her office hard enough to rattle the windows.
*

"Stop it!" Gibbs grabbed Tony, shoving him back. McGee just glared, wiping blood from his nose. He shook off Ziva's hand and climbed up from the floor of the garage. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Gibbs, he—"

"Shut the hell up, McGee. You're both suspended for a week. The next one to open his mouth is fired, you got me?" Gibbs looked from one to the other. Neither looked at him, but continued glaring at each other. Ziva pushed McGee toward her car, and Gibbs stood next to Tony until they had driven away.

"Boss..." Tony decided to take his chances. Gibbs just shook his head.

"I know. There are rules, DiNozzo. You know that," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll cover your ass with the Director but don't you ever put me in this position again."

"Right, Gibbs," Tony found a crumpled napkin in his pocket and wiped the back of his hand.

"She can fight her own battles. The next time you forget that, I will shoot you. Now go home."

"Yes, Boss."
*

"You stupid son of a bitch," Abby didn't even wait for him to fully open the door before she began ripping into him. "You could've hurt him, you could've gotten yourself fired. Gibbs could have shot you, and frankly, I wouldn't have blamed him. What in the blue hell were you thinking?"

"Um, hi. I'm fine, thanks for asking. And how are you?" Tony just moved out of her way, picking up his beer, and letting her pace and rant. Seemed safer that way.

"And now you're making jokes. How am I? I'm fucking pissed, that's how I am. Do you even understand what you did, Tony? You assaulted a co-worker, who could press charges, and then you'd lose everything, everything, Tony," she grabbed the beer out of his hand and slammed it to the table.

"Probie wouldn't do that. Besides, he took a swing at me first," Tony lifted his tee-shirt, where a small bruise was forming over his ribs. "I just went to talk to him. Wasn't my fault. If you're going to yell, can you do it at the Chinese takeout place? I don't feel like cooking."

"Stupid macho bullshit," she muttered, stomping into the kitchen. "Kate was right, you're a fucking idiot."

"What would you rather I'd done, Abby?" Tony leaned against the counter while she yanked the stack of menus out of the drawer.

"Left it alone. I didn't tell you about the conversation so you could go beat him up," she slams the drawer and yanks the phone out of the base. "You know what, order your own damned food."

"Does that mean you're not staying for dinner?" he asked as she shoved the phone into his hand.

"It means I'm going to go take a shower and calm down. Then you are going to explain to me exactly how this happened, and if I can find it in my heart to forgive you, I might remember that we had a deal that starts tonight," she said, anger receding as she touched his bruised knuckles. "I know you were trying to do the right thing."