Fic: Slow Day (Tony, Abby) PG
Title: Slow Day
Rating: PG
Characters: Tony, Abby.
Word Count: 1944
A/N: Written for adafrog for ncis_tinsel.
Request: Request: Written for adafrog, who asked for Gibbs/DiNozzo friendship or relationship. Or Abby Tony friendship only-no relationship. BDSM is cool, but not needed. Schmoop is fine. Light on the angst.
*
Despite how it sometimes feels, there are days when NCIS isn't flooded with cases, and when even Gibbs' team has nothing better to do than catch up on paperwork that they're already caught up on because Gibbs doesn't let them slack.
Abby uses those days to research: she reads journals in her field, emails forensics and technical experts, brushes up on her coding skills, and generally just learns as much as she can. It's what keeps her at the top of her game, makes her such an asset that she gets more leeway in her dress, behavior and music than anyone else might. Not that she does it for that reason. No, she just likes to learn, to know, to be good at what she does because she loves her job, loves her calling.
Today is one of those rare quiet days. She's got her music blasting, and she's sprawled out on her stomach on one of her work tables reading an article, chin propped in her hands, and her legs bent at the knees, scissoring along time to the beat of the song currently on.
When someone sidles up behind her and tugs on one of her pigtails, she doesn't even look away from the article, much less startle. "Your skills are weak, Tony. Not even Gibbs can sneak up on me in my territory."
It's true. Abby knows her space in a way that she can't really describe. It goes beyond the layout, which she could be dropped into blindfolded and still navigate smoothly. She knows how the lab feels--how the air moves around everything, how sound reverberates off the furniture and machines, and that's why no one can be in here without her realizing it, even if it's sometimes wholly subconscious.
Besides, it's noon, and that's usually Tony's threshold for deskwork on days like this. Or, conversely, others' threshold for him and deskwork.
"I have much to learn, great master," Tony says solemnly after he turns off the music and moves into her line of sight. He bows respectfully and Abby grins at him, noticing the too-bright eyes and restless twitching.
"Just how bored are you?" she asks with a laugh.
"Painfully," he replies, and he actually does look pained. "Ziva took the day off, and McGee's been drafted into service by IT. It's just me and Gibbs up there."
"Poor Tony," Abby drawls, face scrunching in sympathy.
"Please tell me you need help." Abby shakes her head and he leans over and wraps his hands around her forearms. "I'm a desperate man, Abby. Sweeping, polishing, standing to the side and offering witty comments: I'll do anything." He makes a face and reconsiders. "Well, as long as it's not sitting quietly and collating paper records from the eighties."
That's probably the suckiest busy-work Abby's ever heard and she lifts her brows curiously. "Wow, what did you do to piss off Gibbs?"
"Why do you think--" Abby just gives him a look and he winces and says, in a rush, "I ran into him and dumped two cups of coffee all over him. That man needs a bell around his neck."
"Sorry, Tony. All I'm doing is catching up on some reading. Not really a two-person activity."
Tony looks from her to the journal, then back again. Before Abby can stop him he snatches it up and then hops onto the table next to her. "Shove over," he says and nudges her until they're both lying on their backs, one leg each hanging from the table, faces turned towards each other.
"So, how is this 'assisting' me?" she asks, amused and interested.
"I'm going to read to you, Sciuto," Tony says, like it should be obvious. And maybe it should have been because this is Tony and this is...a very Tony-like idea. "I'll have you know that my younger cousins considered me the story-telling champion of the DiNozzo clan."
Somehow she doubts that, but she puts on a serious face and nods. "Of course. Did the honor come with a trophy?"
He narrows his eyes at her and she widens her own innocently. "No," he says, sounding suspicious. "No trophy. Now shut up, close your eyes, and listen to the scintillating tale of..." He squints at the journal. "....Forensic applications of infrared chemical imaging: Multi-layered paint chips."
Abby grins and leans her head against his shoulder. "Weave me a tale of action, adventure, and illicit love affairs."
"Part One: The Abstract."
"Oooh, I've already got goosebumps! Are you going to do voices?"
Tony looks at her. "Yes, and if you're very good, I'll even act out some of the...steamier bits." He waggles his brows and Abby buries her face against is shoulder to muffle her laughter. "You know, all that does is make it possible for me to hear and feel you laughing at me."
"I'm sorry. Really." She tilts her face up and kisses his cheek. "Go on. Act out the steamy parts."
Tony slants a look at her from the corner of his eyes. "Only if you're good, remember?" She nods and he's smiling when he looks back at the journal. Abby's pretty much grinning herself. "Now, where was I?"
"The Abstract," Abby reminds him in a hushed, reverent whisper.
"The Abstract. This paper examines the potential of infrared chemical (hyperspectral) imaging as a technique for the forensic analysis of automotive paint chips in particular, and multicomponent (e.g., layered) samples in general," he reads.
"Ooh, tell me more, Tony!" Abby chirps around another fit of laughter. Beside her, Tony sounds like he's trying his best not to laugh. "Is there a sample preparation procedure detailed?"
Tony pushes up on one elbow and stares down at her, trying for stern. "Are you going to let me tell the story, or not?"
"But it's just so exciting. I can hardly breathe from the antici--" She breaks off, lets a count of three pass, and finishes. "--pation."
"It's my award winning story-telling technique at work," he says smugly, then settles down again and reads further. "Improved sample preparation procedures for the infrared analysis of paint chips are detailed, with the recommendation that where mounting resins are chemically incompatible with the sample, it is better to mount and section the sample in a soft wax from which the sections can be removed and pressed into a KBr disk for transmission analysis."
He's out of breath by the time he gets to the end of the paragraph-long sentence, and finishes reading in choked oxygen-deprived voice that has Abby shaking with laughter again. When he recovers his breath he lays the journal on his chest and looks at Abby again. "I'm considering a deep baritone for the KBr disk. What do you think? Too cliché?"
Abby pretends to consider it, then shakes her heads. "No, it's totally perfect. Cutting edge, even."
"I thought so, too." He winks at her and lifts the journal once more. "Infrared chemical images of multilayered paint chips have been successfully obtained, with the chief advantage over conventional infrared analysis being that thousands of infrared spectra are--"
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barks, and Tony flails, the journal flying halfway across the room while he falls to the floor in a spectacularly spastic move. Abby and Gibbs share grin before Gibbs' face crumbles into disgruntled annoyance again.
Abby peers over the side of the table and watches Tony climb to his feet with the shredded remains of his dignity stubbornly clung to. "Yeah, Boss! Is there a case?" His eyes widen hopefully. "Please tell me there's a case."
"It's nice to see that you're hoping someone becomes a victim of a crime, DiNozzo," Gibbs says sarcastically.
"I didn't mean--"
"Lunch," Gibbs tells them. "Ducky ordered in."
Abby slides off the table and bounces over to Gibbs. "Can we eat in Autopsy?" He stares at her and she wraps herself around one of his arms. "Please, Gibbs, please!"
"It's already set up," Gibbs tells her and kisses her cheek. When he pulls back he's holding out a Super Large Caff-Pow, which Abby takes with a super large smile.
Ducky has a checkered table cloth spread over one of his exam tables, which makes Gibbs roll his eyes, Tony grimace, and Abby dance around in a circle and proclaim, "I love Autopsy Pizza Picnic Day!"
"I thought we were do for one, my dear," Ducky says. "Now, McGee was already out with the IT team when I went to call on him." He looks around in frustrated confusion. "And Mr. Palmer seems to have disappeared. Again. So it appears that it's just we four, since Ziva is out today."
Tony and Abby load their plates with pizza, then hike themselves onto another empty exam table, both sitting cross-legged with their plates in front of them. The pizza is topped with everything, and Abby stares at Tony's slices for a moment before reaching out just as he reaches for hers.
They re-divide their toppings, because Abby isn't that big a fan of onions, and Tony has a huge thing for black olives, and they get into a hand-slapping tiff over the mushrooms before Gibbs threatens to take lunch away from both of them if they don't settle it.
Tony's brought the journal with him, so while Gibbs and Ducky talk quietly at Ducky's desk, Abby listens to Tony read the rest of the abstract, his hands getting the pages greasy and stained.
They're finishing up when Tim comes in, and he scowls when he finds the pizza boxes empty and the rest of them ready to return to work.
"I thought you went to lunch with the IT group," Abby says and he scowls harder.
"No, we were working on the legal department's database. I wouldn't make lunch plans on an Autopsy Pizza Picnic Day."
Abby pats his cheek. "You can have my crust."
Tony steps up to them, cheeks bulging and a half inch of crust sticking out of his mouth. "No, he can't," he says around the food in his mouth.
They file out, and when Tony makes to go back to the offices Gibbs turns a glare on him and says, "What do you think you're doing, DiNozzo?"
Tony blinks. "Um, returning to the exciting world of collating?" Gibbs keeps glaring and Tony tugs at his tie. "Or not, apparently. What am I doing, Boss?"
"Finish helping Abby." Gibbs turns to McGee, who stiffens. "McGee's gonna pick up the collating."
Gibbs stalks off and Tim looks at Tony and Abby helplessly. "Wait, why am I doing Tony's crapwork, now?"
Tony grins at him, smug and relieved. "See, Probie, about the only thing Gibbs hates more than getting coffee spilled all over him is a member of his team unilaterally deciding to spend the day helping another department."
"Yeah, you're kinda screwed, McGee," Abby adds regretfully.
"Great. That's great," Tim snaps.
"Move it, McGee!" Gibbs shouts from the elevator.
Tony and Abby wave Tim off, then grin at each other. "I love Autopsy Pizza Picnic Days!" Tony says with satisfaction.
"I've still got that poker kit in the lab," Abby tells him after a moment.
"Strip poker?" Tony proposes slyly.
"Five card stud," Abby counters with a snort. "Take it or leave it."
"Well, Gibbs is going to be busy teaching McGee a lesson for the next hour or two, so you're on."
Actually, Abby expects Gibbs will probably show up in half an hour and Tony will be forced to return to collating hell, but in the meantime she can card shark her way into a new dress, at the very least. Maybe even a pair of boots, too.
*
.End
Note: Paper title and abstract content are from the July 2005 Journal of Forensic Sciences. Source located here.
Rating: PG
Characters: Tony, Abby.
Word Count: 1944
A/N: Written for adafrog for ncis_tinsel.
Request: Request: Written for adafrog, who asked for Gibbs/DiNozzo friendship or relationship. Or Abby Tony friendship only-no relationship. BDSM is cool, but not needed. Schmoop is fine. Light on the angst.
*
Despite how it sometimes feels, there are days when NCIS isn't flooded with cases, and when even Gibbs' team has nothing better to do than catch up on paperwork that they're already caught up on because Gibbs doesn't let them slack.
Abby uses those days to research: she reads journals in her field, emails forensics and technical experts, brushes up on her coding skills, and generally just learns as much as she can. It's what keeps her at the top of her game, makes her such an asset that she gets more leeway in her dress, behavior and music than anyone else might. Not that she does it for that reason. No, she just likes to learn, to know, to be good at what she does because she loves her job, loves her calling.
Today is one of those rare quiet days. She's got her music blasting, and she's sprawled out on her stomach on one of her work tables reading an article, chin propped in her hands, and her legs bent at the knees, scissoring along time to the beat of the song currently on.
When someone sidles up behind her and tugs on one of her pigtails, she doesn't even look away from the article, much less startle. "Your skills are weak, Tony. Not even Gibbs can sneak up on me in my territory."
It's true. Abby knows her space in a way that she can't really describe. It goes beyond the layout, which she could be dropped into blindfolded and still navigate smoothly. She knows how the lab feels--how the air moves around everything, how sound reverberates off the furniture and machines, and that's why no one can be in here without her realizing it, even if it's sometimes wholly subconscious.
Besides, it's noon, and that's usually Tony's threshold for deskwork on days like this. Or, conversely, others' threshold for him and deskwork.
"I have much to learn, great master," Tony says solemnly after he turns off the music and moves into her line of sight. He bows respectfully and Abby grins at him, noticing the too-bright eyes and restless twitching.
"Just how bored are you?" she asks with a laugh.
"Painfully," he replies, and he actually does look pained. "Ziva took the day off, and McGee's been drafted into service by IT. It's just me and Gibbs up there."
"Poor Tony," Abby drawls, face scrunching in sympathy.
"Please tell me you need help." Abby shakes her head and he leans over and wraps his hands around her forearms. "I'm a desperate man, Abby. Sweeping, polishing, standing to the side and offering witty comments: I'll do anything." He makes a face and reconsiders. "Well, as long as it's not sitting quietly and collating paper records from the eighties."
That's probably the suckiest busy-work Abby's ever heard and she lifts her brows curiously. "Wow, what did you do to piss off Gibbs?"
"Why do you think--" Abby just gives him a look and he winces and says, in a rush, "I ran into him and dumped two cups of coffee all over him. That man needs a bell around his neck."
"Sorry, Tony. All I'm doing is catching up on some reading. Not really a two-person activity."
Tony looks from her to the journal, then back again. Before Abby can stop him he snatches it up and then hops onto the table next to her. "Shove over," he says and nudges her until they're both lying on their backs, one leg each hanging from the table, faces turned towards each other.
"So, how is this 'assisting' me?" she asks, amused and interested.
"I'm going to read to you, Sciuto," Tony says, like it should be obvious. And maybe it should have been because this is Tony and this is...a very Tony-like idea. "I'll have you know that my younger cousins considered me the story-telling champion of the DiNozzo clan."
Somehow she doubts that, but she puts on a serious face and nods. "Of course. Did the honor come with a trophy?"
He narrows his eyes at her and she widens her own innocently. "No," he says, sounding suspicious. "No trophy. Now shut up, close your eyes, and listen to the scintillating tale of..." He squints at the journal. "....Forensic applications of infrared chemical imaging: Multi-layered paint chips."
Abby grins and leans her head against his shoulder. "Weave me a tale of action, adventure, and illicit love affairs."
"Part One: The Abstract."
"Oooh, I've already got goosebumps! Are you going to do voices?"
Tony looks at her. "Yes, and if you're very good, I'll even act out some of the...steamier bits." He waggles his brows and Abby buries her face against is shoulder to muffle her laughter. "You know, all that does is make it possible for me to hear and feel you laughing at me."
"I'm sorry. Really." She tilts her face up and kisses his cheek. "Go on. Act out the steamy parts."
Tony slants a look at her from the corner of his eyes. "Only if you're good, remember?" She nods and he's smiling when he looks back at the journal. Abby's pretty much grinning herself. "Now, where was I?"
"The Abstract," Abby reminds him in a hushed, reverent whisper.
"The Abstract. This paper examines the potential of infrared chemical (hyperspectral) imaging as a technique for the forensic analysis of automotive paint chips in particular, and multicomponent (e.g., layered) samples in general," he reads.
"Ooh, tell me more, Tony!" Abby chirps around another fit of laughter. Beside her, Tony sounds like he's trying his best not to laugh. "Is there a sample preparation procedure detailed?"
Tony pushes up on one elbow and stares down at her, trying for stern. "Are you going to let me tell the story, or not?"
"But it's just so exciting. I can hardly breathe from the antici--" She breaks off, lets a count of three pass, and finishes. "--pation."
"It's my award winning story-telling technique at work," he says smugly, then settles down again and reads further. "Improved sample preparation procedures for the infrared analysis of paint chips are detailed, with the recommendation that where mounting resins are chemically incompatible with the sample, it is better to mount and section the sample in a soft wax from which the sections can be removed and pressed into a KBr disk for transmission analysis."
He's out of breath by the time he gets to the end of the paragraph-long sentence, and finishes reading in choked oxygen-deprived voice that has Abby shaking with laughter again. When he recovers his breath he lays the journal on his chest and looks at Abby again. "I'm considering a deep baritone for the KBr disk. What do you think? Too cliché?"
Abby pretends to consider it, then shakes her heads. "No, it's totally perfect. Cutting edge, even."
"I thought so, too." He winks at her and lifts the journal once more. "Infrared chemical images of multilayered paint chips have been successfully obtained, with the chief advantage over conventional infrared analysis being that thousands of infrared spectra are--"
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barks, and Tony flails, the journal flying halfway across the room while he falls to the floor in a spectacularly spastic move. Abby and Gibbs share grin before Gibbs' face crumbles into disgruntled annoyance again.
Abby peers over the side of the table and watches Tony climb to his feet with the shredded remains of his dignity stubbornly clung to. "Yeah, Boss! Is there a case?" His eyes widen hopefully. "Please tell me there's a case."
"It's nice to see that you're hoping someone becomes a victim of a crime, DiNozzo," Gibbs says sarcastically.
"I didn't mean--"
"Lunch," Gibbs tells them. "Ducky ordered in."
Abby slides off the table and bounces over to Gibbs. "Can we eat in Autopsy?" He stares at her and she wraps herself around one of his arms. "Please, Gibbs, please!"
"It's already set up," Gibbs tells her and kisses her cheek. When he pulls back he's holding out a Super Large Caff-Pow, which Abby takes with a super large smile.
Ducky has a checkered table cloth spread over one of his exam tables, which makes Gibbs roll his eyes, Tony grimace, and Abby dance around in a circle and proclaim, "I love Autopsy Pizza Picnic Day!"
"I thought we were do for one, my dear," Ducky says. "Now, McGee was already out with the IT team when I went to call on him." He looks around in frustrated confusion. "And Mr. Palmer seems to have disappeared. Again. So it appears that it's just we four, since Ziva is out today."
Tony and Abby load their plates with pizza, then hike themselves onto another empty exam table, both sitting cross-legged with their plates in front of them. The pizza is topped with everything, and Abby stares at Tony's slices for a moment before reaching out just as he reaches for hers.
They re-divide their toppings, because Abby isn't that big a fan of onions, and Tony has a huge thing for black olives, and they get into a hand-slapping tiff over the mushrooms before Gibbs threatens to take lunch away from both of them if they don't settle it.
Tony's brought the journal with him, so while Gibbs and Ducky talk quietly at Ducky's desk, Abby listens to Tony read the rest of the abstract, his hands getting the pages greasy and stained.
They're finishing up when Tim comes in, and he scowls when he finds the pizza boxes empty and the rest of them ready to return to work.
"I thought you went to lunch with the IT group," Abby says and he scowls harder.
"No, we were working on the legal department's database. I wouldn't make lunch plans on an Autopsy Pizza Picnic Day."
Abby pats his cheek. "You can have my crust."
Tony steps up to them, cheeks bulging and a half inch of crust sticking out of his mouth. "No, he can't," he says around the food in his mouth.
They file out, and when Tony makes to go back to the offices Gibbs turns a glare on him and says, "What do you think you're doing, DiNozzo?"
Tony blinks. "Um, returning to the exciting world of collating?" Gibbs keeps glaring and Tony tugs at his tie. "Or not, apparently. What am I doing, Boss?"
"Finish helping Abby." Gibbs turns to McGee, who stiffens. "McGee's gonna pick up the collating."
Gibbs stalks off and Tim looks at Tony and Abby helplessly. "Wait, why am I doing Tony's crapwork, now?"
Tony grins at him, smug and relieved. "See, Probie, about the only thing Gibbs hates more than getting coffee spilled all over him is a member of his team unilaterally deciding to spend the day helping another department."
"Yeah, you're kinda screwed, McGee," Abby adds regretfully.
"Great. That's great," Tim snaps.
"Move it, McGee!" Gibbs shouts from the elevator.
Tony and Abby wave Tim off, then grin at each other. "I love Autopsy Pizza Picnic Days!" Tony says with satisfaction.
"I've still got that poker kit in the lab," Abby tells him after a moment.
"Strip poker?" Tony proposes slyly.
"Five card stud," Abby counters with a snort. "Take it or leave it."
"Well, Gibbs is going to be busy teaching McGee a lesson for the next hour or two, so you're on."
Actually, Abby expects Gibbs will probably show up in half an hour and Tony will be forced to return to collating hell, but in the meantime she can card shark her way into a new dress, at the very least. Maybe even a pair of boots, too.
*
.End
Note: Paper title and abstract content are from the July 2005 Journal of Forensic Sciences. Source located here.