(no subject)
Argh. It's eleven in the morning and I'm still in my jimjams. Still, it is the day after Easter, I suppose. Happy Easter! Happy Holidays!
Anyway, something different here; a collection of sentences, each based on a different word prompt. Abby/Gibbs.
Blackmail.
- Even as Gibbs sized up the teen with the pink Mohawk and wondered why he’d agreed to come CD shopping, he knew that the evening rested on the whispered promise of a certain black dress.
Girlfriend.
- When Mrs. Mallard again asked Gibbs if he was on the market, his reply that he was taken prompted further questions from her that he didn’t really know how to answer, but in the end he found the word he was looking for.
Buried.
- Lila loves playing and rolling in clean laundry piles, diving in until only a hand or a foot can be seen.
Kitchen.
- When Gibbs went into the kitchen the morning after to make two coffees, he just couldn’t look at the table with a straight face.
Liquor.
- Gibbs licked at the whisky as it trickled down her stomach to her belly button.
Wrapper.
- Gibbs was surprised when he found a candy in his pocket; Abby had been sneaky when she’d hugged him.
Destination.
- He didn’t know where exactly they were going in a hearse at two in the morning, but the smell of salt air was getting stronger and the feel of her hand on his leg was getting warmer and he decided not to care.
Travel.
- She’d said it was sexy when he spoke Russian, so eight months later they’d found themselves outside the American Embassy in Moscow, with her shivering and his arms and coat wrapped around her shoulders as he told her stories.
Graduation.
- She blushed when he showed her the picture he’d found of her in her cap and gown, her neck web free, her hair golden brown underneath the tasseled hat, but smiled when he said he preferred the tattoos.
Sprung.
- When a stuttering McGee tried to step back into the elevator that had already shut its doors, they knew they’d been found out.
Rhythm.
- Half asleep, he rubbed a hand over her big belly, tracing familiar patterns over familiar skin, just as he did every night; the rhythmic caress of his thumb prompting movement from a tiny foot.
Freezing.
- Lila had given up on the snowman and opted to be carried by daddy, because after all, his coat was big and warm when he wrapped it around the both of them.
Eccentric.
- Sometimes, she’d give the pizza slices individual names and make teepees out of her waffles.
Alive.
- He went back to the crime scene after the case was closed, the exact location of where Abby had been standing burned into his brain, and as he looked at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches to her right, he let out a shaky sigh of relief.
Church.
- He watched her get ready for Mass one Sunday morning and decided to tag along, an hour of reflection didn’t require an hour of religion.
Episodes.
- She got frustrated at season finales, teary when anybody mentioned Rose and adventurous when new shows started.
Honest.
- The way she didn’t catch his eye when she told him she’d found no prints had him worried, but a signed addition to her report, meant only for him, calmed his apprehension.
Overalls.
- Gibbs picked Lila up from the grass of the backyard, holding her out in front of him as he eyed the knees of her overalls; Abby was not going to be happy.
Privacy.
- He’d just tugged her top off and was unhooking her bra when he heard Jen call out; he really ought to start locking the front door.
Respected.
- Standing at the back of the lecture hall, coffee in hand, he watched with pride as one hundred and fifty pairs of eyes and ears paid close attention to the woman standing in front of them, talking about bullet trajectories and Android Lust.
Forget.
- Pulling up in the airport arrivals bay, he jumped out and ran to the sad lonely figure that he knew was Abby; wrapping his arms around her cold wet body, he tucked her head under his chin and apologized again and again for forgetting to pick her up.
Armed.
- Being with a federal agent meant that impromptu accosting in the hallway wasn’t always a great idea; getting Gibbs’ tie from his neck wasn’t the same as his gun from its holster.
Garbles.
- In between mouthfuls of baby food, Lila chatted away incoherently yet happily, her arms waving around in the air.
Lonely.
- The minute he’d left the interrogation room at Gitmo, he pulled out his cell and dialed home, wanting to check in for the night.
Breathes.
- Sometimes at night, he goes into her room just to watch her tiny chest rise and fall.
Him.
- When the letter saying he’d had been released from jail came, she got drunk again but went with the grain.
Grind.
- Pressing her against the wall of their bedroom, his hands creeping under the hem of her skirt, he ground his hips against hers.
Anyway, something different here; a collection of sentences, each based on a different word prompt. Abby/Gibbs.
Blackmail.
- Even as Gibbs sized up the teen with the pink Mohawk and wondered why he’d agreed to come CD shopping, he knew that the evening rested on the whispered promise of a certain black dress.
Girlfriend.
- When Mrs. Mallard again asked Gibbs if he was on the market, his reply that he was taken prompted further questions from her that he didn’t really know how to answer, but in the end he found the word he was looking for.
Buried.
- Lila loves playing and rolling in clean laundry piles, diving in until only a hand or a foot can be seen.
Kitchen.
- When Gibbs went into the kitchen the morning after to make two coffees, he just couldn’t look at the table with a straight face.
Liquor.
- Gibbs licked at the whisky as it trickled down her stomach to her belly button.
Wrapper.
- Gibbs was surprised when he found a candy in his pocket; Abby had been sneaky when she’d hugged him.
Destination.
- He didn’t know where exactly they were going in a hearse at two in the morning, but the smell of salt air was getting stronger and the feel of her hand on his leg was getting warmer and he decided not to care.
Travel.
- She’d said it was sexy when he spoke Russian, so eight months later they’d found themselves outside the American Embassy in Moscow, with her shivering and his arms and coat wrapped around her shoulders as he told her stories.
Graduation.
- She blushed when he showed her the picture he’d found of her in her cap and gown, her neck web free, her hair golden brown underneath the tasseled hat, but smiled when he said he preferred the tattoos.
Sprung.
- When a stuttering McGee tried to step back into the elevator that had already shut its doors, they knew they’d been found out.
Rhythm.
- Half asleep, he rubbed a hand over her big belly, tracing familiar patterns over familiar skin, just as he did every night; the rhythmic caress of his thumb prompting movement from a tiny foot.
Freezing.
- Lila had given up on the snowman and opted to be carried by daddy, because after all, his coat was big and warm when he wrapped it around the both of them.
Eccentric.
- Sometimes, she’d give the pizza slices individual names and make teepees out of her waffles.
Alive.
- He went back to the crime scene after the case was closed, the exact location of where Abby had been standing burned into his brain, and as he looked at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches to her right, he let out a shaky sigh of relief.
Church.
- He watched her get ready for Mass one Sunday morning and decided to tag along, an hour of reflection didn’t require an hour of religion.
Episodes.
- She got frustrated at season finales, teary when anybody mentioned Rose and adventurous when new shows started.
Honest.
- The way she didn’t catch his eye when she told him she’d found no prints had him worried, but a signed addition to her report, meant only for him, calmed his apprehension.
Overalls.
- Gibbs picked Lila up from the grass of the backyard, holding her out in front of him as he eyed the knees of her overalls; Abby was not going to be happy.
Privacy.
- He’d just tugged her top off and was unhooking her bra when he heard Jen call out; he really ought to start locking the front door.
Respected.
- Standing at the back of the lecture hall, coffee in hand, he watched with pride as one hundred and fifty pairs of eyes and ears paid close attention to the woman standing in front of them, talking about bullet trajectories and Android Lust.
Forget.
- Pulling up in the airport arrivals bay, he jumped out and ran to the sad lonely figure that he knew was Abby; wrapping his arms around her cold wet body, he tucked her head under his chin and apologized again and again for forgetting to pick her up.
Armed.
- Being with a federal agent meant that impromptu accosting in the hallway wasn’t always a great idea; getting Gibbs’ tie from his neck wasn’t the same as his gun from its holster.
Garbles.
- In between mouthfuls of baby food, Lila chatted away incoherently yet happily, her arms waving around in the air.
Lonely.
- The minute he’d left the interrogation room at Gitmo, he pulled out his cell and dialed home, wanting to check in for the night.
Breathes.
- Sometimes at night, he goes into her room just to watch her tiny chest rise and fall.
Him.
- When the letter saying he’d had been released from jail came, she got drunk again but went with the grain.
Grind.
- Pressing her against the wall of their bedroom, his hands creeping under the hem of her skirt, he ground his hips against hers.