Pairing: Abby Sciuto and Angela Montenegro, Abby Sciuto/Leroy Jethro Gibbs
Spoilers: Spoilers for Bones 3.9 "The Santa in the Slush." General spoilers through S6 of NCIS.
Summary: During a girls' night out, Abby and Angela end up playing a game of 'I Never.'
Disclaimer: NCIS and Bones were created by Donald Bellisario and Kathy Reichs/Hart Hansen, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by monimala. Despite the crossover-y-ness, it was mostly an excuse for some Gibbs/Abby. :)
Angela was shivering as she walked into the bar. Snow was falling in D.C., the roads were a disaster, and she'd decided to walk rather than risk getting stuck in traffic in a cab. It had been tempting to cancel, but she didn't get to see Abby very often.
Theirs was an unusual friendship, forged when the quirky forensic scientist took an art class Angela taught a couple years before. Although Abby didn't have the makings of a professional artist, or even a serious amateur, she'd been an eager pupil. Often, she'd stay after class to discuss a particular theory or technique. Eventually, their conversations extended to other things, and when the class ended, they promised to keep in touch.
"Angela!" She turned at the sound of her name and saw Abby on the far side of the bar, familiar pigtails flying as she waved enthusiastically.
"Sorry I'm late," she said once she was close enough. "The walk took longer than I expected."
Abby wrinkled her nose. "You walked in this weather? You must be freezing!"
"It's only a couple blocks. But I could definitely use something to warm me up," she added with a grin.
With an answering smile, Abby signaled for the bartender.
"So I told you about the Christmas tree thing last year, right?" Angela asked, taking a sip of her martini. When Abby nodded, she continued her story. "This year, Booth found out that Russ and his family were going to see Amy's parents for the holidays. So of course, he invited Brennan and Max to spend Christmas with him and Parker."
"That's so sweet!"
"I know. Of course, Brennan freaked out, going on and on about 'implications' and 'connotations' and 'misinterpretations' because she and Booth are 'just friends.' She then proceeded to drag me to every toy store in the D.C. Metro area looking for the perfect present for Parker."
Abby laughed. "Wow, those two sound even worse than Tony and Ziva."
"Seriously," Angela agreed. "I swear, if they don't hook up soon, the entire Jeffersonian might combust from the sexual tension."
"Well, they better save a few firefighters for the Navy Yard. The number of smoldering glances between Tony and Ziva has gone up exponentially in the past six months."
"People are dumb," Angela said, absently popping peanuts from the basket on the bar. "I just don't see the point of fighting attraction if both people are available. It's just prolonging the inevitable, and wasting time on top of it." She drained her glass, and shot a sly look at her companion. "Speaking of...have you snared your silver-haired fox yet?"
Abby nearly choked on her vodka and Red Bull. When she managed to compose herself a little, she sputtered out, "I'm all for acting on attraction, but only if it's reciprocated! Gibbs would never..."
"How do you know unless you try?" Angela challenged.
Abby sighed "Rule #12, for starters."
"What's Rule #12?"
"Never date a coworker."
"The thing about rules, Abby...they were made to be broken."
The crowd in the bar had thinned out, as the hour got later and the weather got worse. Abby and Angela had moved from bar stools to a booth, their conversations ranging from the most recent movies they'd seen to the weirdest places they'd had sex. When Angela told the story of Cam seeing security footage of her and Hodgins doing the deed, Abby suddenly exclaimed, "We should totally play I Never!"
"I haven't played that since college," Angela protested.
"All the more reason to play now."
The terms of the game were simple--the first one to have to do five shots of tequila lost. Or won, depending on your perspective. Somehow, Angela suspected neither of them would let the five shots lined up in front of each of them go to waste.
The room was starting to spin, but Angela was determined to win the game. She and Abby had each taken four shots so far, and it was her turn. All she had to do was come up with something Abby had done that she hadn't. Easier said than done, since there wasn't much Angela hadn't done.
She thought for a moment, and finally started to smirk. "I never..." she began, drawing out the words, "have had a sexual fantasy about my current boss."
Abby's cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol, went even redder. "You are evil," she said, picking up her final shot glass.
It never made it to her mouth. "I really hope you're not talking about Director Vance, Abbs."
Her eyes went wide as the glass slipped from her fingers and she spun around. "Gibbs!" she squeaked.
Angela looked over the senior agent that Abby carried a not-so-secret torch for. Oh yeah--definitely a silver fox.
"What are you doing here?" Abby gasped out, stumbling to her feet. Only Gibbs's steadying arm at her elbow kept her from falling.
"You weren't answering your phone, and the weather's bad," he replied, as if that explained everything.
"Aw, you were worried!" Abby exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. Leaning back just enough to look at him, she asked, "But...how did you find me?"
"I had McGee track your phone."
She giggled. "That sounds a lot like stalking, Gibbs. Totally sweet stalking, but still."
"I think it's time to get you home, Abbs." He looked over at Angela, as if just remembering she was there. "Do you need a ride, Ms..."
"Montenegro. Angela Montenegro. And no, thanks, I'll just call a cab, Agent Gibbs."
She watched in amusement as he got Abby bundled into her coat. His expression was a mixture of affection and exasperation, and Abby was right--he was a tough one to read. But she had seen his face when Abby hugged him, and she'd stake her reputation as an artist that there was something there.
They were halfway to Abby's apartment when she blurted out, "It wasn't Director Vance."
"I know that, Abbs, " he said calmly, not looking over at her.
"Oh. So then you know it was..."
He cut her off before she could get the last, fateful word out. "What I know is that you've had a lot to drink tonight. But if you still want to talk about it tomorrow...then we can."
She felt warmer, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. Tomorrow. She could deal with tomorrow. What was another day after seven and a half years?
Her eyes were drifting closed by the time they reached her apartment, and she didn't open them until Gibbs opened the passenger door. He walked her all the way to her door, and watched her with badly-concealed humor as she fumbled with her keys.
"Goodnight, Abbs," he said when she got the door open, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.
"Night. Hey, Gibbs?" she said, before he could walk away.
Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips. "Tomorrow," she promised.
Yes, tomorrow would be a very interesting day indeed.