Title: A Quiet Night In
Feedback address: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date in Calendar: 29 June 2007
Summary: A quiet night in leads to new revelations.
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It had been the end of a long case. Which while being successful had left everyone drained. So they had all, minus Gibbs who went strangely absent after the arrest, headed out to their favourite bar for a few celebratory drinks.
That was several hours ago. Now after Tony and Ducky had made their early exits to return to the women who needed them (for different reasons obviously), and McGee had actually managed to leave with a girl, only Ziva and Abby had been left in the bar. Neither had had much to drink, both being aware that alcohol and a long day don’t mix well when you have to drive home. So with the bar closing they has decided to continue their celebration back at Ziva’s place.
Which is where we find them now.
Ziva’s apartment, although modern and comfortable, appeared almost entirely impersonal. Like a hotel room that one might have an extended stay in. A fact that bothered Abby far more than it did Ziva.
Although right now Ziva’s apartment was the last thing on Abby’s mind. When Ziva has first arrived at NCIS, Abby’s grief over Caitlin’s death has clouded her judgment of Ziva. However, over the last year they have grown closer. In some ways closer than she had with Caitlin. After all, while she had enjoyed Caitlin’s company she never had any… interesting thoughts about her. But Ziva? She’d had more than a few of those. And although not usually shy about going after someone she wanted, whether they be male, female or other, pursuing a deadly Jewish assassin seemed somehow scarier. Especially the Jewish part.
Ziva had no such problems though. She had worked out a while ago what was really behind Abby’s jealousy over her attention to McGee. But it was what she overheard when she called Abby in for the case a couple of days ago that really got her attention. The distinctive noise of a play party going on in the background. Far from freaking her out, Ziva was intrigued. She had no shortage of willing partners to take to bed, but finding one that shared her specific ‘tastes’ cut that line down to practically zero. Finding out her strangely beautiful colleague possibly shared her tastes was all the impetus she needed to set out on seducing the young Goth.
“So tell me Abby, exactly what was going on when I called you the other night?” Ziva asked, trying to sound casual, not wanting to give away she already knew the answer.
“I was at a party with some old friends, you know, hanging out and stuff.” Abby felt nervous about discussing this with Ziva. Normally she had no trouble being honest about her activities; the shock value alone was worth it. Under Ziva’s unwavering stare, she felt nervous. She imagined this must be what it felt like to be on the wrong side of one of Ziva’s interrogations.
“Funny, because it sounded like someone was being struck rather heavily in the background, I would guess with a flogger. Do you make a habit of beating up your friends?” A chill of excitement went up Abby’s back at those words. Clearly Ziva’s line of questioned showed a little more than a passing familiarity with her chosen recreational activities. Especially as she didn’t think that suede floggers were a common torture device amongst Mossad agents. That, and the amused glint in Ziva’s eye as she asked.
“Well, you’re half right. Someone was being beaten up in the background. But I don’t beat up my friends. If anything they might beat up on me. You know, cause, hurting people, that doesn’t really turn me on. I don’t really know why it is that people enjoy that. I mean it’s cool if you do, it’s just…” Abby’s monologue was halted by Ziva’s finger on her lips silencing her. Abby’s cheeks turned bright red as she realized she had been rambling again.
“No, I never thought you would be a domme.” Ziva’s fingers moved to trace the line of Abby’s jaw, “But I think what you want is what a domme can give you. Something perhaps I could give you?” Ziva held her breath. This was the point of no return. Either Abby would agree or she would get turned down. As much as she didn’t want to show it, she was nervous.
“Yes” Abby’s answer was short, quiet and delivered with an almost shaky breath. But it was unmistakable. For a moment they sat there, caught in the electricity of this new revelation. Then Ziva stood up, offering Abby her hand.
“Then will you take my hand and be mine for the night?” Ziva’s question echoed off the walls of the living room. With a quick nervous swallow, Abby took Ziva’s hand and allowed herself to be escorted from the room.