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I'm not sure what to think of this one. I sort of like it, and sort of don't. I wrote it a while ago, ummed and ahhhed over it and decided against posting it. Then I found it again this afternoon, decided that maybe the sentiments explored in it were worth a shot and revamped it. So here it is! :)
“Sick.” Abby flopped onto the bed gracelessly and hugged her pillow tightly, as if she was trying to meld its atoms into her own. “Sick, sick, sick.”
There was no reply from Gibbs beside her, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. She poked him in the back sharply, whilst simultaneously prodding his calf with her foot.
He didn’t turn to face her, but rather buried his head deeper into his pillow. “Sick.” She drew the word out, to make it four syllables. Still Gibbs didn’t turn.
A quiet sound escaped her lips; it started off as a sad sigh before trailing into a soft moan. It wasn’t designed to get Gibbs’ attention and it indicated a genuine unhappiness and distress that made him roll over to face her.
She was closer than he’d anticipated, and even though he quickly adjusted his speed and trajectory, he still ended up nose to nose with her.
She peered at him from underneath a long fringe and a furrowed brow. “You were ignoring me.”
“I thought you were talking to yourself.”
“Have I ever struck you as the type to talk to myself?”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her.
“On second thoughts don’t answer that. I even look like the type who’d talk to myself. My hair is so long and wild I’m not sure a bird hasn’t taken up residence in it. Next thing I’ll be wearing Hessian sacks.”
He reached out and tucked numerous stray strands behind her ears, but some simply fell back in front of her face again. Rolling her eyes, she blew a gust of air up out the side of her mouth and the strands flew to the side.
“We’ve been busy.”
“Busy? That’s the understatement of the year. Your Navy has been very naughty the last four months.”
“My Navy? When did it become my Navy?”
“Well, you’re the Marine and the Very Special Agent”
As usual, Gibbs didn’t quite follow, but that was par for the course with Abby, and oddly reassuring.
“We’ve had so many cases I’ve practically been living in the lab, and in case you haven’t noticed, there’s nowhere to throw up there. It’s not like I can tell a jury that our evidence is compromised because it has my DNA all over it either.”
“I know you’ve been working hard, Abs.”
Abby sighed. “M’sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I know how you feel about that.”
Gibbs felt disappointment settle on his shoulders; disappointment that he was the sort of person who gave that impression. Sometimes Abby seemed so…perceptive that he forgot she wasn’t a mind reader.
“I don’t mind if you complain.”
She smiled at him, but her eyes were tired. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her.
“Let’s try something. Lay on you back and lift your top up.”
She looked curious, but complied. Bunching up what seemed like yards of fabric, so that only half of the Marine Corps logo could be seen, she pulled the shirt up.
“Ok.” He put his hand on her stomach. She was in her fifteenth week, so there was only a slight rounding of her belly around her navel. He stretched his fingers out. “Focus on that.”
She lifted her head to look down at her stomach and his hand. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like the cold. Convince yourself you’re warm. Don’t think about the nausea, think about the feel of my fingers on your skin.”
Lowering her head back to the pillows, she closed her eyes. After a minute or so, she sighed. “Move your fingers.”
He complied, tracing gentle lines on her skin.
“You’re right. It does work. Plus, you have nice hands.”
Gibbs chuckled.
“Where’d you learn that?”
He began to take his hand away, but Abby gripped his wrist and tugged his fingers gently back to her skin. “Nobody gave you permission to stop, Gunny.”
He moved his fingers again. “Well, my mum used to do it for me when I was a kid.”
Abby opened her eyes. “I thought you’d never even had a cold!”
“Just because I wasn’t susceptible to the flu doesn’t mean I wasn’t susceptible to too much ice-cream. Even I was a kid once.” This was said with a crooked grin.
“Bet it was coffee flavoured,” Abby muttered under her breath. He started to take his hand away again, pretending to use it as punishment for the remark, but she looked at him pleadingly, so he put it back.
“Plus, some of the guys in my unit used to do it of they were wounded and we were pinned down with no way to get to treatment.” At Abby’s confused and contemplative look, he quickly elaborated. “Of course, we didn’t do it quite the same way I just did with you. There was clothing and - ”
“ - no gratuitous touching and caressing, for which I am very grateful.” She shuffled closer, so that she was almost lying underneath him. “I don’t like the thought of you off at war. I don’t like the thought of you being pinned down with dying men and no way to the hospital. I’ve seen your scars, so I’m just going to ignore the image of you as the wounded guy that’s in my head at the moment.” She gripped the material of his shirt. “Sometimes I forget you’re a super sniper Marine guy - ”
“ - Super sniper Marine guy?”
“Whatever. I mean, maybe it’s because you don’t talk about it, and yeah I know, classified, yadda yadda yadda, but it’s weird to think that you were part of Desert Storm and Just Cause. Oh, and at the risk of offending you, can I take a second to ask what the hell was with the names?”
“Well, you were practically a baby during Just Cause.”
Abby scoffed. “We both know that’s not true.”
He rubbed his thumb over her belly button. “Does it bother you, not knowing about my military career?”
Abby shrugged. “Not really. Just makes me feel how different we are. Pregnancy apparently 'involves lots of philosophizing and contemplation of one’s partner.' Or so I’ve been told by Ducky. You wouldn’t catch me in a tank for all the fingerprints in the world.” She seemed to evaluate her words. “Actually, you probably would. You wouldn’t catch me traipsing around the desert, that I can be sure about. All that sand and sun? Yuck.”
Gibbs chuckled but didn’t reply, instead he looked down at her stomach. It looked like she had a small tennis ball sitting just underneath her belly button. For the past month she’d been calling it their ping pong, and Gibbs hoped she stopped naming it after sports equipment. She might not have the mental strength to deal with a basketball.
Slowly, he slid down the bed beside her, looking up at her the whole time. Warm lips pressed to the skin of her stomach with a soft sucking sound. He shifted over, lying chest down on the mattress between her legs, propped up by his elbows on either side of her waist. As his tongue met the skin next to her belly button, she bent her legs up, pushing down with her feet now flat on the mattress.
. . . .
Abby woke up with a groan. Not opening her eyes, she flung her arm out in front of her and brought it back down to her face with a slap and a scrub. “Sick. Sick, sick, sick.” Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she opened them.
“Ok, mind over matter. I’m not cold. I’m all toasty and warm.” She put her hand on her belly and rubbed. “Now I just have to convince myself that I can do it and that I don’t need Gibbs.”
She looked over at him. This time he was asleep. She refused to wake him, and kept rubbing.
“Ok, not working!” Stumbling out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom.
She stumbled back out again, and didn’t realize that the bed was vacant until she’d flopped back in it. She looked up when she heard a noise at the door.
“Ok. Here, try this. Dry crackers. Ginger tea.” He was carrying a little tray.
She looked at him. “I think I should warn you that Ducky also mentioned something about pregnancy involving crying.”
Gibbs smiled and set the tray on the nightstand. He handed her a cracker. “Eat this. It should help.”
A thought hit her like a truck. Her face must have betrayed her mind because Gibbs nodded.
“Yeah.”
She nibbled on the cracker, looking down at it nervously. “Yeah what?”
“Eating crackers used to make Shannon feel better when she was pregnant with Kelly.”
Abby nodded slightly, then blanched. “Um…I don’t think it’s working. In fact I think it’s making it worse.” The last few words were said very quickly, as if she didn’t feel comfortable having her mouth open.
Gibbs reached for the glass of water that was already on the nightstand and handed it to her. She sipped it gratefully, and as the taste of the crackers diminished, relaxed.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You alright?”
She nodded.
“Ok. Well, no more crackers. That’s ok.”
“Really, I am sorry the crackers didn’t work.”
He smiled. “Maybe the ginger will.” Picking up the tea up, he handed it to her.
Contemplating the cup held out to her, she laughed. “I wonder what Tony would say if he knew you made ginger tea.”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, ok, ok. Not pushing my luck, just drinking the nice tea that the elves made.”
She sipped at it and licked her lips, before looking at the brown liquid curiously.
“Well…I’m not throwing up, which is good. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime…” she reached for his hand.
. . . .
The sun was just coming up when Abby woke for the third time. Blinking, she realized that she didn’t feel too bad. She looked at the bedside table, where the empty tea mug sat. The crackers had disappeared, and Abby did her best not to feel sad.
She felt Gibbs looking at her, and turned to him. “Maybe the baby will like the crackers when she’s older. Or he’s older.”
Gibbs shrugged. “Maybe the baby will like the crackers and the ginger tea.”
wiccagirl24 I'm sorry the beta work on your last story is taking me a little while. This week had been a bit rough and I've practically been sleeping at work in a sleeping bag. I am getting there, and I'm really sorry for the delay, love.
Testing the waters: I know it's been done to death, but would anybody be interested in a kidnapped Lila fic? Like I said, cliched, but I have a few basic ideas.
“Sick.” Abby flopped onto the bed gracelessly and hugged her pillow tightly, as if she was trying to meld its atoms into her own. “Sick, sick, sick.”
There was no reply from Gibbs beside her, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. She poked him in the back sharply, whilst simultaneously prodding his calf with her foot.
He didn’t turn to face her, but rather buried his head deeper into his pillow. “Sick.” She drew the word out, to make it four syllables. Still Gibbs didn’t turn.
A quiet sound escaped her lips; it started off as a sad sigh before trailing into a soft moan. It wasn’t designed to get Gibbs’ attention and it indicated a genuine unhappiness and distress that made him roll over to face her.
She was closer than he’d anticipated, and even though he quickly adjusted his speed and trajectory, he still ended up nose to nose with her.
She peered at him from underneath a long fringe and a furrowed brow. “You were ignoring me.”
“I thought you were talking to yourself.”
“Have I ever struck you as the type to talk to myself?”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her.
“On second thoughts don’t answer that. I even look like the type who’d talk to myself. My hair is so long and wild I’m not sure a bird hasn’t taken up residence in it. Next thing I’ll be wearing Hessian sacks.”
He reached out and tucked numerous stray strands behind her ears, but some simply fell back in front of her face again. Rolling her eyes, she blew a gust of air up out the side of her mouth and the strands flew to the side.
“We’ve been busy.”
“Busy? That’s the understatement of the year. Your Navy has been very naughty the last four months.”
“My Navy? When did it become my Navy?”
“Well, you’re the Marine and the Very Special Agent”
As usual, Gibbs didn’t quite follow, but that was par for the course with Abby, and oddly reassuring.
“We’ve had so many cases I’ve practically been living in the lab, and in case you haven’t noticed, there’s nowhere to throw up there. It’s not like I can tell a jury that our evidence is compromised because it has my DNA all over it either.”
“I know you’ve been working hard, Abs.”
Abby sighed. “M’sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I know how you feel about that.”
Gibbs felt disappointment settle on his shoulders; disappointment that he was the sort of person who gave that impression. Sometimes Abby seemed so…perceptive that he forgot she wasn’t a mind reader.
“I don’t mind if you complain.”
She smiled at him, but her eyes were tired. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her.
“Let’s try something. Lay on you back and lift your top up.”
She looked curious, but complied. Bunching up what seemed like yards of fabric, so that only half of the Marine Corps logo could be seen, she pulled the shirt up.
“Ok.” He put his hand on her stomach. She was in her fifteenth week, so there was only a slight rounding of her belly around her navel. He stretched his fingers out. “Focus on that.”
She lifted her head to look down at her stomach and his hand. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like the cold. Convince yourself you’re warm. Don’t think about the nausea, think about the feel of my fingers on your skin.”
Lowering her head back to the pillows, she closed her eyes. After a minute or so, she sighed. “Move your fingers.”
He complied, tracing gentle lines on her skin.
“You’re right. It does work. Plus, you have nice hands.”
Gibbs chuckled.
“Where’d you learn that?”
He began to take his hand away, but Abby gripped his wrist and tugged his fingers gently back to her skin. “Nobody gave you permission to stop, Gunny.”
He moved his fingers again. “Well, my mum used to do it for me when I was a kid.”
Abby opened her eyes. “I thought you’d never even had a cold!”
“Just because I wasn’t susceptible to the flu doesn’t mean I wasn’t susceptible to too much ice-cream. Even I was a kid once.” This was said with a crooked grin.
“Bet it was coffee flavoured,” Abby muttered under her breath. He started to take his hand away again, pretending to use it as punishment for the remark, but she looked at him pleadingly, so he put it back.
“Plus, some of the guys in my unit used to do it of they were wounded and we were pinned down with no way to get to treatment.” At Abby’s confused and contemplative look, he quickly elaborated. “Of course, we didn’t do it quite the same way I just did with you. There was clothing and - ”
“ - no gratuitous touching and caressing, for which I am very grateful.” She shuffled closer, so that she was almost lying underneath him. “I don’t like the thought of you off at war. I don’t like the thought of you being pinned down with dying men and no way to the hospital. I’ve seen your scars, so I’m just going to ignore the image of you as the wounded guy that’s in my head at the moment.” She gripped the material of his shirt. “Sometimes I forget you’re a super sniper Marine guy - ”
“ - Super sniper Marine guy?”
“Whatever. I mean, maybe it’s because you don’t talk about it, and yeah I know, classified, yadda yadda yadda, but it’s weird to think that you were part of Desert Storm and Just Cause. Oh, and at the risk of offending you, can I take a second to ask what the hell was with the names?”
“Well, you were practically a baby during Just Cause.”
Abby scoffed. “We both know that’s not true.”
He rubbed his thumb over her belly button. “Does it bother you, not knowing about my military career?”
Abby shrugged. “Not really. Just makes me feel how different we are. Pregnancy apparently 'involves lots of philosophizing and contemplation of one’s partner.' Or so I’ve been told by Ducky. You wouldn’t catch me in a tank for all the fingerprints in the world.” She seemed to evaluate her words. “Actually, you probably would. You wouldn’t catch me traipsing around the desert, that I can be sure about. All that sand and sun? Yuck.”
Gibbs chuckled but didn’t reply, instead he looked down at her stomach. It looked like she had a small tennis ball sitting just underneath her belly button. For the past month she’d been calling it their ping pong, and Gibbs hoped she stopped naming it after sports equipment. She might not have the mental strength to deal with a basketball.
Slowly, he slid down the bed beside her, looking up at her the whole time. Warm lips pressed to the skin of her stomach with a soft sucking sound. He shifted over, lying chest down on the mattress between her legs, propped up by his elbows on either side of her waist. As his tongue met the skin next to her belly button, she bent her legs up, pushing down with her feet now flat on the mattress.
. . . .
Abby woke up with a groan. Not opening her eyes, she flung her arm out in front of her and brought it back down to her face with a slap and a scrub. “Sick. Sick, sick, sick.” Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she opened them.
“Ok, mind over matter. I’m not cold. I’m all toasty and warm.” She put her hand on her belly and rubbed. “Now I just have to convince myself that I can do it and that I don’t need Gibbs.”
She looked over at him. This time he was asleep. She refused to wake him, and kept rubbing.
“Ok, not working!” Stumbling out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom.
She stumbled back out again, and didn’t realize that the bed was vacant until she’d flopped back in it. She looked up when she heard a noise at the door.
“Ok. Here, try this. Dry crackers. Ginger tea.” He was carrying a little tray.
She looked at him. “I think I should warn you that Ducky also mentioned something about pregnancy involving crying.”
Gibbs smiled and set the tray on the nightstand. He handed her a cracker. “Eat this. It should help.”
A thought hit her like a truck. Her face must have betrayed her mind because Gibbs nodded.
“Yeah.”
She nibbled on the cracker, looking down at it nervously. “Yeah what?”
“Eating crackers used to make Shannon feel better when she was pregnant with Kelly.”
Abby nodded slightly, then blanched. “Um…I don’t think it’s working. In fact I think it’s making it worse.” The last few words were said very quickly, as if she didn’t feel comfortable having her mouth open.
Gibbs reached for the glass of water that was already on the nightstand and handed it to her. She sipped it gratefully, and as the taste of the crackers diminished, relaxed.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You alright?”
She nodded.
“Ok. Well, no more crackers. That’s ok.”
“Really, I am sorry the crackers didn’t work.”
He smiled. “Maybe the ginger will.” Picking up the tea up, he handed it to her.
Contemplating the cup held out to her, she laughed. “I wonder what Tony would say if he knew you made ginger tea.”
Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, ok, ok. Not pushing my luck, just drinking the nice tea that the elves made.”
She sipped at it and licked her lips, before looking at the brown liquid curiously.
“Well…I’m not throwing up, which is good. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime…” she reached for his hand.
. . . .
The sun was just coming up when Abby woke for the third time. Blinking, she realized that she didn’t feel too bad. She looked at the bedside table, where the empty tea mug sat. The crackers had disappeared, and Abby did her best not to feel sad.
She felt Gibbs looking at her, and turned to him. “Maybe the baby will like the crackers when she’s older. Or he’s older.”
Gibbs shrugged. “Maybe the baby will like the crackers and the ginger tea.”
wiccagirl24 I'm sorry the beta work on your last story is taking me a little while. This week had been a bit rough and I've practically been sleeping at work in a sleeping bag. I am getting there, and I'm really sorry for the delay, love.
Testing the waters: I know it's been done to death, but would anybody be interested in a kidnapped Lila fic? Like I said, cliched, but I have a few basic ideas.