Cliché: Bad Idea
Summary: "It's a non-issue. Dating older men is a sign of maturity." Gibbs angsts.
A/N: Part two of four. Go me.
He drove her home -- his home. By eleven-thirty the streets were fairly quiet, and the only illumination provided them was given by the street lights. She played with the controls on the radio, flipping between a modern rock station, a country station and a twenty-four hour news station until he slapped her hand away.
"I should've left that thing broken."
She tapped her fingers against her knee. "Not having a working radio is sacrilegious."
"DiNozzo seems to think so. He wouldn't shut up about it until I got it fixed."
She arched an eyebrow, smirking impishly. "DiNozzo ride in your car a lot? …Do you make him call you 'Sir'?"
He took a moment to fully absorb her implication. "Do you want to walk, Abby?"
She pouted. "You wouldn't do that to me. Besides, Gibbs, I understand that every once in a while we all have the urge to grab Tony and molest him. It's completely natural."
He reached over with his free hand, landing a smack to the back of her head. She burst out laughing.
She wanted coffee; he didn't want her any more caffeinated than she already was. They did not stop. "You're killing me here."
He had the suspicion that he would be more likely to end her life with the addition of more caffeine into her bloodstream. He wasn't entirely sure if her heightened caffeine intake wasn't a subtle method of suicide in itself. There was no moon and the red of the street light in front of them cast her pale skin in a sickening mockery of blood. He wanted to reach out and touch her soft throat, her sharply angled jaw to assure himself that she was as alive as himself. It would be too much. The electric current that had seemed to form itself between the two of them would snap and sizzle and destroy them both if they were to touch.
"I'm twenty years older than you," he said instead.
She tilted her head to the side, studying his profile in the driver's seat. "What do you want, a prize for your math skills?"
"Abby—"There was a warning in his voice. It was paramount in his mind that she fully consider all the ramifications of her actions.
"It's a non-issue. Dating older men is a sign of maturity." The ankh at her throat sparkled in the beam of a streetlight.
"I'm your boss."
"Are you going to list every single reason why this shouldn't happen? Because I don't think I have to tell you that you were the one who started this."
"Yes. And there's always the chance that I made a mistake." He didn't want to say it, he knew how much she valued their friendship and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but he had to be sure that she knew what she was getting herself into.
"We're already friends. This won't change that. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be out in the field. I won't be in constant danger, so I shouldn't affect your leadership skills."
"McGee isn't going to be impressed."
She snorted in surprised laughter. "He'll get over it. We weren't exactly exclusive."
A thought crossed his mind, and he was immediately struck with a bolt of possessiveness. He smothered the emotion almost before it appeared, reminding himself that Abby would do whatever she wanted no matter what anyone else told her. "You going to be exclusive with me?" He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, pressing a bit harder on the gas.
She didn't answer for a while, playing with her hair. "I'm not going to promise that I won't look or flirt. There're so many pretty people out there, it's a crime to let their beauty go unappreciated. But I won't do anything with anyone if you'd feel better that way."
"I would." He was quiet for a few minutes, but finally continued. "My job comes first. It's important you understand that -- my ex-wives didn't."
"Don't compare me to your ex-wives, Gibbs. I'm not interested in marrying anyone. And as for the job thing, what do you think comes first in my life? We're workaholics. Just because of this, that's not going to change."
He pulled up outside his house, slamming on the breaks, jerking the car to a halt. The seatbelts dug into their skin. "Stop dancing around it, Abby." He turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders holding her in place. "We're going to have sex."
She smiled up at him from under long lashes. "That could have been more blunt. I just… don't know how."
"This is going to change things. It's going to have consequences."
She reached down, unbuckling her seat belt and leaning closer to him. "Gibbs. Relax. You started this. It'd be a damn shame if you couldn't finish it." He had only heard the slight Louisiana accent creep into her voice when she was angry. It was strange to hear it in her low, soothing purr.
"I know, Abs. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I won't get hurt. I promise." She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in against her awkwardly over the center consol. He breathed in her perfume as she stroked his hair.
Finally, he moved away, lightly brushing her cheek with a hand. "C'mon, Abby. Let's go inside."
"I hid cappuccino mix in your cupboard. I need a caffeine fix." He sighed as she bounced from the car, darker than the night as she navigated her way to the front steps by memory alone.
"Believe me," he called after her, "The last thing you'll be thinking about tonight is coffee."
He heard her laughter from across the front yard. "The cheese, Gibbs. It kills."