(no subject)
Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays! You know, I've come across so many politically correct blessings and greetings on LJ these past few days that it's getting a bit strange. I'm just going to say that I hope you're all having a good time, no matter what you're doing.
wiccagirl24 this one is for you, because if anybody is even going to understand what it's about, it's you. It's my Christmas pressie for you, m'dear!
Written in my sleepy, dealing with Christmas, finally-have-escaped-from-the-food-and-wine-and-music-and-PEOPLE haze that we all love and enjoy.
Abby deals with Doctor Who (the show, not the man, I'm not *that* hazy) on Christmas day. Gibbs learns things he may not have wanted to, including the meanings of the words "fangirl" and squee".
It's just randomness. Me basically putting myself into Abby due to my Christmas distress.
Gibbs ran his fingers along the wooden frame of his boat, feeling for any splinters and holes. He’d just found one, and was in the process of carefully sanding it when he heard a shriek and the sound of furniture moving come from upstairs. He paused and looked at the ceiling curiously before continuing with his work. Abby had been doing that all night.
Christmas lunch had been at Ducky’s, with the whole team present, even Ziva if for nothing other than the company. Abby had been over the moon about it all, loving getting everyone together at her favourite ME’s, safe in the knowledge that Victoria Mallard liked her, even if she did look like the matriarch’s husband-stealing sister. She’d carefully wrapped presents for everybody in an assortment of bright colours and ribbons; she knew her penchant for black didn’t extend to her friends. She’d shepherded him out their door with an iron-clad grasp on his arm, and it had been all he could do to wrangle the steering wheel and driving seat from her in her excitement.
She’d coaxed Tony into the house, who had been sulking on the porch, hiding from the dogs, with the promise of food, wine, fun and the possibility of seeing Gibbs drunk. She’d been so animated, so excited by the day that for the first time in years Gibbs had been warmed by the 25th. It had only been when she was halfway down the stairs, looking for Mrs. Mallard who’d wandered off and forgotten what day it was that she’d paused and a dark expression had crossed her face. Gibbs had gone upstairs to look for Victoria with her, and the change from the somewhat guilty grin she’d worn on the landing to the sad contemplative look she’d worn downstairs had been sudden and lasting.
After that, her laughs at Tony’s jokes had been slightly unnatural, her smile had never quite reached her eyes. She’d only eaten small portions, and no matter how many times Gibbs had caught her in the hallway to ask her what was wrong, she’d just smiled and kissed him quickly.
The ride home had been fairly silent, and Abby’s hands and lips had stayed on her side of the car, a rare occurrence for any day of the week. What had surprised him most was when she’d turned, halfway through loading Christmas pudding into the fridge, and told him to go and work on his boat for a bit. Normally, she couldn’t drag him out of the basement fast enough, or stay away from it if he was in there for more than five seconds. There may have been no anger or hurt in her eyes, but he’d felt quite certainly that he was being sent to the dog house.
The last thing he’d seen was her shutting the door to her study. It had been an empty room that she’d quickly claimed when she’d moved in. She’d legitimized its creation with extensive detail, pointing out that in times of retreat he went to his basement to work on the boat, and she to her study to poke around the net. The room felt threatening to him, in that it had a lot of very breakable, very electronic equipment, so for the most part he stayed out of it. She’d locked herself up in it a week into the move to set everything up and when she’d turned it all on the electricity had blown. Luckily, Gibbs didn’t really use much anyway. To his amusement, Abby had taken to the switch box with a pair of rubber gloves and some pliers and when she’d come back in, everything had been running normally. She’d tapped her nose mischievously and ran upstairs, taking her top off on the way.
. . . .
It was midnight by the time she finally made it to bed. She tiptoed into the room, knowing that he always woke so easily but quickly felt his gaze on her.
“Hey,” she whispered.
He looked at her, brows slightly furrowed. She rummaged around behind her pillow looking for her pyjamas, but there was nothing there.
“You seen my jimjams?”
Gibbs’ eyebrows rose.
“My PJs,” she explained.
“Probably in the bathroom.”
She turned and went into the bathroom, returning a few moments later donning not the skull and crossbones flannelette he’d been expecting, but a black silk babydoll. Crawling over the bed, she straddled him and put her hands on his chest.
“I’m sorry I was so grumpy today.”
“Hardly worth apologizing about.”
She smiled. “For me it is. We have different grump levels.”
“Grump levels?”
She smiled in reply. “On Christmas too! I promised myself I was going to make sure you had a good Christmas this year and instead I was the one who was cranky.”
He put his hands on her thighs, fingers running over smooth pale skin. “You weren’t cranky.”
She began playing with the material of his shirt. “Sulky then. I’m feeling better now though.” She looked at him, as if daring him to suggest otherwise. When she wriggled slightly, he decided not to argue.
. . . .
Gibbs’ eyes fluttered open. Abby was muttering in her sleep.
“Rose.” She woke up suddenly and rolled to her side, sniffling.
Gibbs had had enough, mostly because he was confused as to who Rose was and why Abby was calling out to her.
“What’s going on?” he tugged on her arm, turning her to him.
She had the same expression she’d worn on the stairs.
“What’s been bothering you? Who’s Rose?”
Abby looked up at him, surprised. “How did you know about Rose?”
“You just said her name in your sleep.” Gibbs confusion was palpable.
“Oh, she’s…well, you wouldn’t understand. It’s one of the big differences between you and me.”
Gibbs indicated for her to continue and she sighed reluctantly.
“Well, see…you’ll think I’m strange. Stranger than you already think I am, that is.”
“Not sure that’s possible.”
Abby closed her eyes in preparation. “What if I just told you that I’m not a lesbian and that Rose isn’t my secret girlfriend? Would that make you feel better?”
He blinked at her.
She sighed again. “Oh, alright. See, oh where to begin. There’s a word. ‘Fangirl.’ Have you ever heard of that before?”
“No.”
“I’m not surprised. Well, basically, it’s a word that applies to girls and women, and their…somewhat unhealthy obsessions with stuff. Usually something or someone from television. They tend to take certain things, like character deaths very seriously.”
“And you’re one of these…fangirls?”
“Well, to an extent…I mean, I don’t squee-”
“Hang on a second. ‘Squee’?”
Abby looked vaguely embarrassed. “Erm, yeah. Squee. The official battle cry of the fangirl. Often used when presented with pictures of Mark Harmon or…or…David Tennant.” She mewled pathetically.
“Why does the name David Tennant make you sad?”
“Oh Gibbs, it’s awful!”
She flung her arms around him as he lay quite still, completely puzzled.
“What’s awful?”
“Rose! She’s trapped in an alternate dimension and she can’t get back to the Doctor because he’s the last of the Time Lords and doesn’t have anyone to help him breach the gap!”
He was silent for a minute, before pulling her back to look her in the eyes. He cocked his head to the side. “What?”
She sighed exasperatedly. “Rose Tyler. She’s the Doctor’s companion. The Doctor travels around in the TARDIS.” Faced with his blank expression, she elaborated. “That’s ‘Time and Relative Dimension in Space’. Basically, it’s a spaceship disguised as a big blue Police Public Call Box that can move around in space and time. The Doctor is a Time Lord, basically an official pilot qualified by the Gallifreyen Academy, or not so qualified as the case may be, to move the TARDIS around space, jumping backwards and forwards in time.”
Gibbs lay quietly for a minute, ingesting all this. “Ok, let me get this straight. Doctor. TARDIS. Time. Space.” At Abby’s nod, he continued. “Rose Tyler. Companion. Alternate Universe. Trapped.”
Abby sniffled. “Yup, that’s pretty much it!” She launched her arms around him again.
“Abby, I don’t understand. What happened tonight?”
She sniffled again. “Oh, they were in love! I thought I was over it. See, the thing is, in England, there’s something called the Christmas Special. It’s a Doctor Who episode that they air on Christmas night. It was the first episode without Rose.”
“Because…she’s trapped in an alternate dimension, away from the Doctor and the TARDIS.” Gibbs felt as if he was speaking another language.
“Yup.” She buried her face in the curve of his neck.
“What’s David Tennant got to do with all this?”
“He’s the actor who plays the tenth Doctor.”
Gibbs cocked his head to the side. He knew he was going to regret this. “The tenth?”
She nodded slowly, her nose, cold, rubbing against his jaw slightly. “The Doctor doesn’t die, well not for a while anyway. He regenerates. Basically, when his body should be dying, it instead reshapes all its atoms to form a new body. Same person, sort of, different look. The ninth one died to save Rose when she swallowed the Time Vortex.”
Gibbs clenched his jaw tightly; he refused to ask what a Time Vortex was.
“See, it’s awful. He’s got to live for ages without knowing what happens to Rose. He’s in love with her but he can never see her again. He’s already 900 years old.”
For a minute, a life past flashed before Gibbs’ eyes. He pulled Abby closer to him.
“You know what?” she murmured against his skin. “I have an idea. We don’t have to go back into work for three days. I’ll put the DVDs on for you.”
He shut his eyes tightly, a grimace on his face. “That sounds…fantastic.” He drew the syllables out.
“Oh don’t!” she shrieked, sniffling again.
. . . . . .
*facepalm*
wiccagirl24 this one is for you, because if anybody is even going to understand what it's about, it's you. It's my Christmas pressie for you, m'dear!
Written in my sleepy, dealing with Christmas, finally-have-escaped-from-the-food-and-wine-and-music-and-PEOPLE haze that we all love and enjoy.
Abby deals with Doctor Who (the show, not the man, I'm not *that* hazy) on Christmas day. Gibbs learns things he may not have wanted to, including the meanings of the words "fangirl" and squee".
It's just randomness. Me basically putting myself into Abby due to my Christmas distress.
Gibbs ran his fingers along the wooden frame of his boat, feeling for any splinters and holes. He’d just found one, and was in the process of carefully sanding it when he heard a shriek and the sound of furniture moving come from upstairs. He paused and looked at the ceiling curiously before continuing with his work. Abby had been doing that all night.
Christmas lunch had been at Ducky’s, with the whole team present, even Ziva if for nothing other than the company. Abby had been over the moon about it all, loving getting everyone together at her favourite ME’s, safe in the knowledge that Victoria Mallard liked her, even if she did look like the matriarch’s husband-stealing sister. She’d carefully wrapped presents for everybody in an assortment of bright colours and ribbons; she knew her penchant for black didn’t extend to her friends. She’d shepherded him out their door with an iron-clad grasp on his arm, and it had been all he could do to wrangle the steering wheel and driving seat from her in her excitement.
She’d coaxed Tony into the house, who had been sulking on the porch, hiding from the dogs, with the promise of food, wine, fun and the possibility of seeing Gibbs drunk. She’d been so animated, so excited by the day that for the first time in years Gibbs had been warmed by the 25th. It had only been when she was halfway down the stairs, looking for Mrs. Mallard who’d wandered off and forgotten what day it was that she’d paused and a dark expression had crossed her face. Gibbs had gone upstairs to look for Victoria with her, and the change from the somewhat guilty grin she’d worn on the landing to the sad contemplative look she’d worn downstairs had been sudden and lasting.
After that, her laughs at Tony’s jokes had been slightly unnatural, her smile had never quite reached her eyes. She’d only eaten small portions, and no matter how many times Gibbs had caught her in the hallway to ask her what was wrong, she’d just smiled and kissed him quickly.
The ride home had been fairly silent, and Abby’s hands and lips had stayed on her side of the car, a rare occurrence for any day of the week. What had surprised him most was when she’d turned, halfway through loading Christmas pudding into the fridge, and told him to go and work on his boat for a bit. Normally, she couldn’t drag him out of the basement fast enough, or stay away from it if he was in there for more than five seconds. There may have been no anger or hurt in her eyes, but he’d felt quite certainly that he was being sent to the dog house.
The last thing he’d seen was her shutting the door to her study. It had been an empty room that she’d quickly claimed when she’d moved in. She’d legitimized its creation with extensive detail, pointing out that in times of retreat he went to his basement to work on the boat, and she to her study to poke around the net. The room felt threatening to him, in that it had a lot of very breakable, very electronic equipment, so for the most part he stayed out of it. She’d locked herself up in it a week into the move to set everything up and when she’d turned it all on the electricity had blown. Luckily, Gibbs didn’t really use much anyway. To his amusement, Abby had taken to the switch box with a pair of rubber gloves and some pliers and when she’d come back in, everything had been running normally. She’d tapped her nose mischievously and ran upstairs, taking her top off on the way.
. . . .
It was midnight by the time she finally made it to bed. She tiptoed into the room, knowing that he always woke so easily but quickly felt his gaze on her.
“Hey,” she whispered.
He looked at her, brows slightly furrowed. She rummaged around behind her pillow looking for her pyjamas, but there was nothing there.
“You seen my jimjams?”
Gibbs’ eyebrows rose.
“My PJs,” she explained.
“Probably in the bathroom.”
She turned and went into the bathroom, returning a few moments later donning not the skull and crossbones flannelette he’d been expecting, but a black silk babydoll. Crawling over the bed, she straddled him and put her hands on his chest.
“I’m sorry I was so grumpy today.”
“Hardly worth apologizing about.”
She smiled. “For me it is. We have different grump levels.”
“Grump levels?”
She smiled in reply. “On Christmas too! I promised myself I was going to make sure you had a good Christmas this year and instead I was the one who was cranky.”
He put his hands on her thighs, fingers running over smooth pale skin. “You weren’t cranky.”
She began playing with the material of his shirt. “Sulky then. I’m feeling better now though.” She looked at him, as if daring him to suggest otherwise. When she wriggled slightly, he decided not to argue.
. . . .
Gibbs’ eyes fluttered open. Abby was muttering in her sleep.
“Rose.” She woke up suddenly and rolled to her side, sniffling.
Gibbs had had enough, mostly because he was confused as to who Rose was and why Abby was calling out to her.
“What’s going on?” he tugged on her arm, turning her to him.
She had the same expression she’d worn on the stairs.
“What’s been bothering you? Who’s Rose?”
Abby looked up at him, surprised. “How did you know about Rose?”
“You just said her name in your sleep.” Gibbs confusion was palpable.
“Oh, she’s…well, you wouldn’t understand. It’s one of the big differences between you and me.”
Gibbs indicated for her to continue and she sighed reluctantly.
“Well, see…you’ll think I’m strange. Stranger than you already think I am, that is.”
“Not sure that’s possible.”
Abby closed her eyes in preparation. “What if I just told you that I’m not a lesbian and that Rose isn’t my secret girlfriend? Would that make you feel better?”
He blinked at her.
She sighed again. “Oh, alright. See, oh where to begin. There’s a word. ‘Fangirl.’ Have you ever heard of that before?”
“No.”
“I’m not surprised. Well, basically, it’s a word that applies to girls and women, and their…somewhat unhealthy obsessions with stuff. Usually something or someone from television. They tend to take certain things, like character deaths very seriously.”
“And you’re one of these…fangirls?”
“Well, to an extent…I mean, I don’t squee-”
“Hang on a second. ‘Squee’?”
Abby looked vaguely embarrassed. “Erm, yeah. Squee. The official battle cry of the fangirl. Often used when presented with pictures of Mark Harmon or…or…David Tennant.” She mewled pathetically.
“Why does the name David Tennant make you sad?”
“Oh Gibbs, it’s awful!”
She flung her arms around him as he lay quite still, completely puzzled.
“What’s awful?”
“Rose! She’s trapped in an alternate dimension and she can’t get back to the Doctor because he’s the last of the Time Lords and doesn’t have anyone to help him breach the gap!”
He was silent for a minute, before pulling her back to look her in the eyes. He cocked his head to the side. “What?”
She sighed exasperatedly. “Rose Tyler. She’s the Doctor’s companion. The Doctor travels around in the TARDIS.” Faced with his blank expression, she elaborated. “That’s ‘Time and Relative Dimension in Space’. Basically, it’s a spaceship disguised as a big blue Police Public Call Box that can move around in space and time. The Doctor is a Time Lord, basically an official pilot qualified by the Gallifreyen Academy, or not so qualified as the case may be, to move the TARDIS around space, jumping backwards and forwards in time.”
Gibbs lay quietly for a minute, ingesting all this. “Ok, let me get this straight. Doctor. TARDIS. Time. Space.” At Abby’s nod, he continued. “Rose Tyler. Companion. Alternate Universe. Trapped.”
Abby sniffled. “Yup, that’s pretty much it!” She launched her arms around him again.
“Abby, I don’t understand. What happened tonight?”
She sniffled again. “Oh, they were in love! I thought I was over it. See, the thing is, in England, there’s something called the Christmas Special. It’s a Doctor Who episode that they air on Christmas night. It was the first episode without Rose.”
“Because…she’s trapped in an alternate dimension, away from the Doctor and the TARDIS.” Gibbs felt as if he was speaking another language.
“Yup.” She buried her face in the curve of his neck.
“What’s David Tennant got to do with all this?”
“He’s the actor who plays the tenth Doctor.”
Gibbs cocked his head to the side. He knew he was going to regret this. “The tenth?”
She nodded slowly, her nose, cold, rubbing against his jaw slightly. “The Doctor doesn’t die, well not for a while anyway. He regenerates. Basically, when his body should be dying, it instead reshapes all its atoms to form a new body. Same person, sort of, different look. The ninth one died to save Rose when she swallowed the Time Vortex.”
Gibbs clenched his jaw tightly; he refused to ask what a Time Vortex was.
“See, it’s awful. He’s got to live for ages without knowing what happens to Rose. He’s in love with her but he can never see her again. He’s already 900 years old.”
For a minute, a life past flashed before Gibbs’ eyes. He pulled Abby closer to him.
“You know what?” she murmured against his skin. “I have an idea. We don’t have to go back into work for three days. I’ll put the DVDs on for you.”
He shut his eyes tightly, a grimace on his face. “That sounds…fantastic.” He drew the syllables out.
“Oh don’t!” she shrieked, sniffling again.
. . . . . .
*facepalm*