Abby's house isn't what Kate expected. Kate isn't quite sure what she was expecting, but a fixer-upper rowhouse in the southwest quadrant of DC wouldn't have been her first choice. And even if it had, the purple front door and red walls of Abby's living room would have been a shock.

Kate really hadn't imagined anything so... not black.

So she stands there, staring at the walls like an idiot until Abby comes back from the kitchen.

"You okay there, Kate?" Abby's voice is arch as she places the wine bottle and glasses on the low table and folds herself to the floor. "Have a seat," she smiles, pointing to a blue pillow laid on the floor.

Kate drops her bag on the sofa, finally, and closes her embarrassingly open mouth. "How long have you had this place, anyway?" She changes the subject deftly and kneels on the cushion. The table is chipped black lacquer, and coordinates nicely with the boxes of Chinese food already laid out.

Abby's scooping rice into little green bowls and opening food. "About three years. I'm working on the sweat equity plan." She waves her wrapped chopsticks upwards. "I did all the wiring and Gibbs came over and framed a wall or two upstairs."

"How do you do that?" Kate snags the bottle and pours for both of them.

"Get Gibbs to help?" Abby snorts. "I asked him."

"No, I mean how do you get everyone to like you?" Kate sips her wine--it's nicely fruity and mixes well with the spicy odor of the food.

Abby shrugs. "I'm a likeable person, I guess. You want some pork?" At Kate's nod, she scoops a generous serving onto her plate. "I mean, look at us. Who would have thought that you and I would be such good friends?"

Kate smiles. "I have to admit, between that mess on Air Force one and meeting you for the first time, I was about to write off NCIS as an agency of freaks." She winces; that was tactless. But Abby isn't offended at all. She smiles widely and raises her wineglass.

"To the freaks at NCIS." Kate clinks with her, relieved that that went over well. "And, may I remind you, Caitlin Marie Todd, that you are one of us?" Abby's grin is teasing, light, happy. It looks good on her.

Kate smiles and watches as Abby scoops up rice with her chopsticks. "To us." She takes a long drink of wine.

Between the food and the conversation, the two of them finish off the bottle. Abby stares at it. "Man. We're practically lushes."

"It's not too bad." Kate pokes at a piece of pork. "I'm more worried about the large amounts of food."

Abby shrugs. "It's not like you won't run it all off in the morning, right?"

Kate shrugs back. Probably, but that's not the point, and she should have a better argument about pigging out. Or more willpower.

"It's just once in a while." Abby sighs. "But I guess I won't be able to wear my Emily tee until I flush all the sodium out of my system."

"Emily?" Kate's not drunk, but she's starting to realize that she's not not-drunk, either.

"Emily the Strange?" When Kate still looks confused, Abby drags her laptop over and looks up a website. Kate is struck by the large amounts of black and red. There seem to be cats, too.

That leads to a search for tee shirts for Kate to wear. They finally settle on a pink one with what Abby calls Lucky Cat, after eliminating happy bunnies, girl pirates, and something with robots.

Abby orders her one immediately. Kate privately thinks she'll only wear it to sleep in, but makes a mental note to repay the gesture soon.

They kiss each other on the cheek, and Kate takes the Metro home to climb into her bed, sheets cool against her skin.

Kate thinks to herself as she drifts off we should do that more often.

***

Kate examines the pillows on her sofa, groans in frustration and rearranges them again. She looks around. Everything's so beige. Clean, yes, but beige and boring. The living room looks like she doesn't live here--and that was true when she was in the Secret Service, not now.

Despite the long hours she's putting in at NCIS, she's spending a lot more time in this apartment. Kate bites her lip and looks around again. Would it kill her to add some personality to this room?

Kate wonders when it became important to impress Abby. She groans again and goes to the kitchen to check on dinner.

The rice cooker clicks just as the doorbell rings.

Abby's brought chardonnay this time. "One of these days, I'm going to provide the food."

Kate takes the bottle and puts it in the fridge. "Do you cook?"

"Not at all. Thought about a class." Abby perches herself on a kitchen stool and watches Kate as she ladles bits of chicken and sauce onto brown rice. "But I do a mean takeout."

"Don't we all?" The laughter's a bit wry; there really isn't time for anyone. Kate isn't going to have a chance to buy red pillows and purple curtains, and Abby won't have time to take a class. Well, Abby might.

They sit at the unused table and clink glasses again. Just normal people having a normal dinner.

"Mmmmm." Kate watches as Abby croons in delight. "Not bad at all, Kate. Where'd you learn to cook?"

She shrugs. "Here and there. Mom taught me most of it."

"My mother always told my brother to marry a girl who could cook." She gives Kate a significant glance. Kate looks away. She doesn't want to talk about Abby's brother.

But she will. "What does he do?"

Abby laughs; it makes Kate smile and relax at last. "He's studying to be a chef."

After dinner entertainment turns out to be the rest of the wine, again, and snarky commentary on some horrible science fiction movie. Kate finds herself joining in when she sees the main character try to shoot a pistol. "Oh, come on. That's the worst grip ever!"

Abby throws a piece of popcorn at the TV. "I know! Would it kill them to do a little research?"

The movie ends, and Kate walks Abby to the door. She has no reason to ask Abby to stay, of course, and wanting her to--Kate pushes that aside and opens the door. "Night, Abs," she says with a smile. She hopes it doesn't look as fake as it feels.

"G'night, Kate." There's a barest ghost of a whisper of lips on lips. Kate doesn't move, heart pounding in her throat. "See you at work Monday!" Abby spins off in a cloud of gunpowder perfume and black lace.

Kate leans her head against the door, unable to process clearly. It couldn't have meant anything. Abby's just that nice, right? It certainly didn't mean anything to Kate, because Kate's not gay. They both date men. Or boys. Or.

That last "or" sticks in Kate's gut as she pulls on her pink Lucky Cat shirt and crawls into her lonely bed again.

***

Work picks up. It's busy, and it's a few days before Kate gets a chance to even look at Abby without seeing piles of evidence bags in the way.

It's good, because Kate doesn't want to think about last weekend. Dead sailors tend to be distracting.

Thursday morning comes around, and Kate finds herself downstairs, waiting for AFIS results, alone except for Abby, who is doing something incomprehensible. Abby turns and smiles at Kate. "We've been insane, haven't we?"

That's true in so many ways, and Kate laughs. "Yeah." The printer runs, and Abby rolls over to snag the sheaf of papers.

"Here you go." Abby gives Kate a serious look. "You're doing okay, right?"

Kate nods, already distracted by names and numbers and deciphering the code. "I'm good, Abs. And you?"

Abby shrugs. "Bored to tears." She waves her hand. "So much repetition this week, and I think you owe me."

That makes Kate start. "Owe you? For what?"

There's another impish grin. "For DNA, fingerprints... all the boring stuff... ah ah!" She raises a finger to forestall Kate's automatic protest. "Don't go blaming the Bossman. You owe me, Agent Todd. My house, Saturday, seven p.m. sharp. My treat."

Kate laughs and nods, vaguely noting that they have a weird friendship if Abby treats when Kate's the one who owes. "All right. I'll bring something, dessert something."

Abby grins. "Cool."

***

Six fifty-nine, Kate knocks on Abby's purple door, wearing jeans and the tee shirt. Abby opens it and gives Kate a big hug, narrowly avoiding the box Kate's holding. "Casual's a good look on you. Nice shirt," she says, tugging on the pink fabric with a grin. Abby also tugs the lid open to peek. "Ooo, brownies." Kate reaches as Abby grabs and tosses the box onto her sofa. "For later."

Abby takes Kate's arm and leads her down the street and around the corner. "You'll love this place."

This place turns out to be a dive-y little bar. Just the bar and a row of booths, and enough room to walk through to the crowded little bathroom, as Kate supposes it must be. There's a yellow-grey veneer over everything, probably from years of smoking, although thankfully it's smoke free now.

They're there before the rush. Abby points to a booth, and says, "I'm ordering. Don't worry." Kate slides in, only somewhat gingerly, and watches Abby flirt with the bartender.

Kate doesn't know why she has to look away. It's not like they're doing anything more than dance around each other. Abby flirts with everyone and everything--Kate's sure that she coos endearments to her mass spectrometer when nobody's looking.

Abby returns, bearing a pitcher of dark-red beer, then again with two baskets containing really greasy-looking cheeseburgers and one with french fries covered in what looks like chili.

Kate raises her eyebrows. "Do you have any idea how many miles of running this is?"

"A lot?" Abby grins anyway. "Once a week, really. And I'm tired of wine. This," she taps the pitcher, "is good stuff. Try it."

It is good, and after a bit, Kate doesn't care about the calories or the fat or the alcohol, even though she promised herself that she wouldn't drink too much. It doesn't matter. They're talking, and their hands occasionally brush each other's fingertips as they talk and gesture.

That also feels good.

The walk back to Abby's place, arm in arm, occasionally leaning into each other. Abby unlocks her front door and propels the two of them to the sofa. Kate rescues the brownies just in time.

"Oh," Abby groans. "I forgot about those."

Kate looks at them. "I can't eat these now." She puts the package on the table. "And they won't keep 'til next week."

"They'll keep for breakfast, though. Right?" Kate looks at her, horrified. "What? Oh, like you haven't eaten worse."

"You, Abby Sciuto, are a bad influence."

Abby gives Kate a look from under her eyelashes. "I could be worse."

Kate laughs, relief and mild terror in her voice. "No more tattoos!"

Abby leans towards Kate, captures her hand. "Okay. How about a kiss instead?"

Heart in throat again, Kate nods slowly. Abby tastes like beer, grease, and Revlon lipstick. There's nothing hesitant about her side of the kiss, and Kate finds herself going with the flow after a moment of tension.

It's really good. Kate moans, quietly, into Abby's mouth, and follows her as she leans back. Too long since she's kissed a girl. Too much dancing around.

They break for air and a moment of examining each other's face. Abby's smiling, Kate feels warm and relaxed, and it's not the booze for once.

"Are my choices the Metro or your coffin?" Bold, but Kate's not as puritanical as she seems. Not always.

Abby laughs, and tugs on Kate's hand as she stands. "I don't mind you staying over. Metro's a bitch."

Wryly, Kate asks, "I get to sleep in a coffin, then?"

"I have a spare bed. Coffin's good for weeding out the unserious. Or the non-freaks."

"I don't need weeding?"

"Nope." Kate finds herself in Abby's arms and being kissed again. "You passed that test a long time ago."