We're only pretending
Title: We're only pretending
Rating: T
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: I own nothing. =(
Beta:
ncis_love Thank you so much. =)
We’re only pretending
Normal people always loved their birthdays. It was like some kind of principle. At this point it was good she’d never considered herself as normal. She let the presents and the flowers and the congratulations wash over her like a cold shower in December while she thanked god that her favorite boss always has been an observant man.
There had been an agreement between them ever since.
Don’t ask.
Don’t tell.
They all got her the same gifts. Black roses and plush dolls. They smiled and she didn’t have much of a choice but to smile back. For her it wasn’t hard to keep her masquerade up. She told herself that she needed this as she let them pull her into a tight hug. It might have been out of her nature but on this day they were too demanding, too clingy. She knew she deserved the kisses, the hugs, the presents but it was this special day when she couldn’t stand it. Something bitter had been lying underneath it all and that memory was scaring the hell out of her.
She held the first Caf Pow of the day between her hands, her fingertips tracing across the funny face as she chewed nervously at the straw. Ziva had just left her lab, right after Tony. Abby looked down across her crimson red dress. She loved it. The skirt was knee length and had a petticoat to add some volume. Underneath she wore fishnet stockings and black Mary Janes shoes. The feeling of silk underneath her fingertips was somewhat comforting though she still couldn’t settle her messy thoughts.
Her hair was down today - just today. Soft curls fell across her small shoulders, framing the snow white face - transparent skin.
In the morning she’d woke to the sound of silence.
Real silence.
No ticking clocks, no noises from passing cars or screaming children. Just pure quietness. For a brief moment she’d wondered what had woken her. Staring at the ceiling she sighed and came to the conclusion that in her noisy, gloomy, twisted life, silence had been something she couldn’t deal with. Not anymore.
When she was a kid it had always been quiet. Blame the deaf parents. When she thought back she couldn’t think about a single thing she’d missed. There’d always been friends, family-get-togethers, school excursions, etc. But it has never been noisy. Maybe that was the reason. Maybe the memories were too painful so the silence always woke her up.
Sighing she grabbed her scarf, throwing it across her shoulders and settling down on the earth. The world looked different from down more abstract and in her reality abstract was what worked for her. The world surrounding her every day was made out of white walls and high tech equipment, loud music, black clothes, smiling faces and rotten bodies. It was mad and didn’t make any sense but finding some kind of normality was impossible, because this was something everybody had to define for themselves.
Gibbs had always had the gift to show up without her noticing. While she sat in a corner of her lab he watched her.
Observing.
Judging.
For a man like him it had never been hard reading somebody like her. She’d always been like an open book for him. Her thoughts were songs as loud as the music she heard every day. Right now he couldn’t hear her anymore; he didn’t understand what kind of person was sitting in this corner.
He sat down next to her, feeling the cold linoleum ground under his palms.
Without thinking twice she grabbed his hand, examining his long fingers, the pale blue veins under sandy skin. Well manicured nails were digging slightly into her skin, leaving a dull pain in her palm. But even if it sounded odd the pain was comforting. It reminded her where she was and why she was here. Slowly her eyes opened for a few seconds, shining like there was no worry in the world. This girl was indeed his little Abigail Sciuto.
Part of the brightness shattered under his gaze and he wondered what had happened to this princess.
She opened her mouth - once, twice and closed it without saying a word. Sometimes it was just too hard to open up. She looked away for just a second before looking back at him searching for some kind of comfort only he could provide.
Her head fell down on his shoulder trying to get closer to him. Her body was too small for the pain buried deep down in her throat. A kind of pain nobody ever wanted to experience; sometimes too much to bear.
She felt his breath against her cheek and listened to sound of the moving elevator, the footsteps outside her lab, the rush of the heater. To her it was the proof that the world was still moving, spinning around her axis. She was drinking in the fact that it was snowing in June, watching little artworks of frozen water dancing in front of her window.
Grabbing his coffee she took a sip, tasting the bitter flavor, swallowing it like stale, withering memories.
It would’ve been so easy talking to Gibbs. He always listened and never asked any questions. That gave her the possibility to answer the ones buried deep inside her head. But this was different. This was her making mistakes and the thought of disappointing him was something she wasn’t willing to allow herself.
At the end of the day it would just be her and him, dancing around one another. Tangled sheets, sweat, blood and messy kisses. Her pretty dress would end up at the stern of his boat, while her naked body was pressed against hard, rough cemented ground.
There would be bruises the next morning. On her neck, her belly, her pelvis. Ten almost perfect fingerprints on her hips. Her lips would be swollen from the many shared kisses and her hair a messed up bun. He liked her hair better when it was down. The sadness in her eyes was much more omnipresent when he had a clear view at her face and that was something he couldn’t stand. Not anymore. Not with her moaning, panting, whimpering, right under him.
When it came to him, there would be ten bloody red marks on his back but he could care less because her tears dried with his gentle touches and their entwined fingers.
He’s known her for 8 years and every day before her birthday he takes her out for dinner but the next day he’s never congratulated her - never had; never would. And ever since, they ended up in bed together. One shared night, once a year. He made her forget and this was his present - the only one she was grateful for.
The End
Rating: T
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: I own nothing. =(
Beta:
ncis_love Thank you so much. =)
We’re only pretending
Normal people always loved their birthdays. It was like some kind of principle. At this point it was good she’d never considered herself as normal. She let the presents and the flowers and the congratulations wash over her like a cold shower in December while she thanked god that her favorite boss always has been an observant man.
There had been an agreement between them ever since.
Don’t ask.
Don’t tell.
They all got her the same gifts. Black roses and plush dolls. They smiled and she didn’t have much of a choice but to smile back. For her it wasn’t hard to keep her masquerade up. She told herself that she needed this as she let them pull her into a tight hug. It might have been out of her nature but on this day they were too demanding, too clingy. She knew she deserved the kisses, the hugs, the presents but it was this special day when she couldn’t stand it. Something bitter had been lying underneath it all and that memory was scaring the hell out of her.
She held the first Caf Pow of the day between her hands, her fingertips tracing across the funny face as she chewed nervously at the straw. Ziva had just left her lab, right after Tony. Abby looked down across her crimson red dress. She loved it. The skirt was knee length and had a petticoat to add some volume. Underneath she wore fishnet stockings and black Mary Janes shoes. The feeling of silk underneath her fingertips was somewhat comforting though she still couldn’t settle her messy thoughts.
Her hair was down today - just today. Soft curls fell across her small shoulders, framing the snow white face - transparent skin.
In the morning she’d woke to the sound of silence.
Real silence.
No ticking clocks, no noises from passing cars or screaming children. Just pure quietness. For a brief moment she’d wondered what had woken her. Staring at the ceiling she sighed and came to the conclusion that in her noisy, gloomy, twisted life, silence had been something she couldn’t deal with. Not anymore.
When she was a kid it had always been quiet. Blame the deaf parents. When she thought back she couldn’t think about a single thing she’d missed. There’d always been friends, family-get-togethers, school excursions, etc. But it has never been noisy. Maybe that was the reason. Maybe the memories were too painful so the silence always woke her up.
Sighing she grabbed her scarf, throwing it across her shoulders and settling down on the earth. The world looked different from down more abstract and in her reality abstract was what worked for her. The world surrounding her every day was made out of white walls and high tech equipment, loud music, black clothes, smiling faces and rotten bodies. It was mad and didn’t make any sense but finding some kind of normality was impossible, because this was something everybody had to define for themselves.
Gibbs had always had the gift to show up without her noticing. While she sat in a corner of her lab he watched her.
Observing.
Judging.
For a man like him it had never been hard reading somebody like her. She’d always been like an open book for him. Her thoughts were songs as loud as the music she heard every day. Right now he couldn’t hear her anymore; he didn’t understand what kind of person was sitting in this corner.
He sat down next to her, feeling the cold linoleum ground under his palms.
Without thinking twice she grabbed his hand, examining his long fingers, the pale blue veins under sandy skin. Well manicured nails were digging slightly into her skin, leaving a dull pain in her palm. But even if it sounded odd the pain was comforting. It reminded her where she was and why she was here. Slowly her eyes opened for a few seconds, shining like there was no worry in the world. This girl was indeed his little Abigail Sciuto.
Part of the brightness shattered under his gaze and he wondered what had happened to this princess.
She opened her mouth - once, twice and closed it without saying a word. Sometimes it was just too hard to open up. She looked away for just a second before looking back at him searching for some kind of comfort only he could provide.
Her head fell down on his shoulder trying to get closer to him. Her body was too small for the pain buried deep down in her throat. A kind of pain nobody ever wanted to experience; sometimes too much to bear.
She felt his breath against her cheek and listened to sound of the moving elevator, the footsteps outside her lab, the rush of the heater. To her it was the proof that the world was still moving, spinning around her axis. She was drinking in the fact that it was snowing in June, watching little artworks of frozen water dancing in front of her window.
Grabbing his coffee she took a sip, tasting the bitter flavor, swallowing it like stale, withering memories.
It would’ve been so easy talking to Gibbs. He always listened and never asked any questions. That gave her the possibility to answer the ones buried deep inside her head. But this was different. This was her making mistakes and the thought of disappointing him was something she wasn’t willing to allow herself.
At the end of the day it would just be her and him, dancing around one another. Tangled sheets, sweat, blood and messy kisses. Her pretty dress would end up at the stern of his boat, while her naked body was pressed against hard, rough cemented ground.
There would be bruises the next morning. On her neck, her belly, her pelvis. Ten almost perfect fingerprints on her hips. Her lips would be swollen from the many shared kisses and her hair a messed up bun. He liked her hair better when it was down. The sadness in her eyes was much more omnipresent when he had a clear view at her face and that was something he couldn’t stand. Not anymore. Not with her moaning, panting, whimpering, right under him.
When it came to him, there would be ten bloody red marks on his back but he could care less because her tears dried with his gentle touches and their entwined fingers.
He’s known her for 8 years and every day before her birthday he takes her out for dinner but the next day he’s never congratulated her - never had; never would. And ever since, they ended up in bed together. One shared night, once a year. He made her forget and this was his present - the only one she was grateful for.
The End