Gibbs smiled as he returned to his friends—his team, yes, but also the people he considered as friends, even family. Ducky and Abby were in a deep conversation, while Ziva was sipping a glass of sparking water and Tony was engrossed in watching the guests milling around the room. “Where do you want us, Boss?” he asked.
“You just work the room, Tony. If you and Ziva want to dance, go ahead. Talk to people you know, meet people you don’t, and just keep your eyes open.” He gave Tony the once over and then said, “You’ve got one of your ribbons upside down. Get Ziva to fix it out on the balcony. But no funny business…you know McGee’s got his eyes on you.” He flashed them his ‘gotcha’ grin, and turned to Abby. “Shall we have a little stroll around the room, and see who we want to meet?”
“But of course, my hero,” Abby smiled at Gibbs, at her friends and colleagues, and took the arm Jethro offered her. They walked away just as Jen was returning to the table, but not before the Director stopped and said to Abby, “Purple is even more attractive on you than black, Abby.” She managed a smile that appeared genuine, and felt herself warming slightly as Gibbs smiled at her approvingly. Relief washed through her although her inner voice was chanting a litany of “--what were you thinking, challenging his bringing Abby to this?!” at her as she took the seat that Ducky gallantly pulled out for her. She accepted the glass of champagne he offered her, and drank half of it off at once, then took a deep breath and prepared to pretend to enjoy the evening anyway.
“I don’t think the director likes me,” Abby confided in Gibbs as they each accepted a glass of wine from a uniformed waiter. “she always gives me this look as if I’ve stepped in something that smells bad. And of course she was pissed that you went to bat for me about her so-called dress code…”
Gibbs chuckled. “Jen is a good person, although I’m not convinced she’s cut out for this job. She was a superb agent, except for a couple of times when she let her temper get the best of her.”
Abby glanced sideways at her boss and friend. “DO you think she isn’t cut out for the job of boss because she’s a woman, Gibbs?”
He looked at her in horror. “God, NO, Abs…how could you think I’d ever think that?” then he saw the smile curling around her lips and he grinned back at her, a whole hearted, deliciously warming smile that warmed Abby right to her toes. He leaned over, brushed his lips against her hair, and whispered, “I’m going to go talk to Lieutenant Colonel Thomas, Abs, just for a few minutes. Are you all right here by yourself watching the room, or do you want to go back to the others?”
“I’m fine on my own, Gibbs,” she told him. “I’ll walk around and see what I can see, and you can find me when you’re done.” He gave her another warm smile, and strode away towards a group of Navy brass.
--Damn, skippy, she thought to herself as she watched his strongly graceful body move through the gathering crowd of men and women, --the man is too gorgeous…and too sweet for my own good. But she also continued her train of thought, not for the first time since their little encounter in the lab,-- maybe there is a god…and maybe that god will let us push past that oh so tiresome rule twelve. She sipped her wine and scanned the room, but found her eyes returning to watch Gibbs, now engaged in what looked like affable conversation. This intrigued her—knowing his disdain for red tape and too much in the way of authority, she was fascinated by the ease with which he could interact with top brass. --Gibbs should have been made the director, she thought loyally, although it crossed her mind that telling the head of another agency that the other man was a bastard was probably not the most diplomatic of comments to make. --Well, he WAS a bastard, and deserved to hear it, she argued with herself, loyally.
Abby reflected on the evening so far, and found it was quite agreeable. She would enjoy going back to chat with Tony and Ziva, and via them to tease Tim a bit. But mostly, she reveled in the pleasure of getting to be with Gibbs. That Kiss (in her head, it was capitalized as what she hoped would be the first of many such kisses) the other morning had turned her world upside down. For nearly five years she and Gibbs had been flirting with each other, but he seemed almost prepared to take it to the next level. Abby knew he was damaged goods, knew about the marriages, but she also knew she had been in love with Leroy Jethro Gibbs for almost as long as she had known him. And she figured it was almost time to lay the cards out on the table, as she was tired of holding this hand to herself. And if That Kiss the other morning was any indication, he wanted to up the ante too.
When he turned up at her door, punctual as always, he looked almost as nervous as a high school senior picking up his prom date. Abby had watched him from her bedroom window as he smoothed out his jacket, checked his appearance in his rearview mirrow, and headed up the walkway to her condo. She opened the door after about half a minute—didn’t want to seem too eager, but also didn’t want him to think she was having doubts—and the look on Gibbs’ face had assured her she’d chosen her outfit well.
Jethro’s face had lit up like the Washington skyline on the fourth of July, and he smiled that wide, warm and devastating smile at her. “Abs…” he said. “You look remarkable. Tony will be so jealous. Hell, every man with a pulse at this event will be jealous.” He stepped inside, knowing full well that several of Abby’s neighbours would be peering out through their curtains, wondering who the penguin was at her front door.
Abby pirouetted for Gibbs, and the hemline of her dress flared out seductively around her, giving him a heartstopping glimpse of her long, lithe legs. She said, “I hoped you’d like it. I hoped it would be appropriate...” she paused, looking at him through her long eyelashes.
“Appropriate? Abby, you could meet the President, the Queen of England, or the high priestess of your Gothhood in that dress and look perfect.”
Sweet words, Abby thought as she thought about their departure. No man or boytoy had ever said anything quite so endearing and honest-sounding to her. And he had looked like he wanted nothing more than to seize her and kiss her like he had laid That Kiss on her. --Well, she thought to herself, --let’s see if the man will go out on the dance floor with me for more than a few faster songs. Let’s see if a slow dance brings anything up…
Tony and Ziva came back from the dance floor, flushed and happy with one another, although they were still bickering good-naturedly about who had been leading. Jethro grinned at them, and as the band swung into another tune from the big band era, he said, “Okay, Abs, it’s time we showed them how it’s really done.” He offered Abby his hand as she rose from the table, and smiling, he led her to the dance floor. Ziva and Tony exchanged astonished glances at this display of their boss doing something social, and then watched in further amazement as the couple began to jive, with great enthusiasm and no little skill.
“Oh, man…” Tony said as he watched. “McGee, you’d better be getting this, and making us all still photos. No one in the office will believe it otherwise.”
“Oh yeah…” Tim’s voice answered him smoothly. “Maybe we should all use it as wallpaper on our computers? Put it in the NCIS social newsletter?”
“That’s naughty of you, Probie…and a brilliant idea.” Tony worshipped his boss, but wasn’t above trying to tease him or play practical jokes on his mentor.
The best part, however, was watching Gibbs’ face as he danced with Abby. He looked happy, truly happy, laughing and talking with her, his eyes never once leaving her face. He looked like a man, Tony realized suddenly, who was in love. Like Tony himself when he looked at Jeanne. He glanced over at the director, who had been engrossed in a conversation with Ducky, but who now was staring out at the dance floor with a grim expression on her face.
“What are you staring at, Tony? Something we should be investigating?” Ziva murmured as she handed him another glass of sparkling water. He nodded out to the dance floor at their boss and their forensic scientist whirling around the sea of other dancers.
“If I didn’t know any better—,” he began.
“Who says you do?” demanded Ziva.
Tony looked reproachful. “As I was about to say…Gibbs reminds me of someone else I know. Someone who has fallen hard for a woman, and is finally daring to admit it.”
Ziva studied her partner’s face for a minute, and saw no joking, no sarcasm there. She nodded gently. “He does indeed. And that’s a very good thing.”
“It is?”
“Yes, of course. Jethro deserves to be happy. So does Abby. Even I, who have only worked with you all for a couple of years, have felt the attraction between the two of them.” She paused, took a sip of her wine, and then continued. “and you…you also deserve to be happy, my friend.”
Startled, Tony looked down at her. “Me?”
“Yes, of course you. When are you going to finally bring Jeanne in to officially meet your NCIS family, anyway?”
Tony looked like she had just announced that she was pregnant with alien twins. Ziva smiled, took his hand, and said, “You’re a good man, Tony, a good work partner and friend, and you’ll make a wonderful husband. But if you tell anyone I said this, I’ll have to kill you! Now come on, I think it’s time that you and I had another dance!” She flashed her smile at him, and he returned the look, savouring his good fortune in loving a woman who was not jealous of his work partnership with Ziva, and his equally good fortune in having the Mossad agent at his back, always.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Looking back and looking forward