A/N: Yet another NFA Help Haiti ficlet. This one was a request for Gibbs/Abby with the prompt of favorite. I decided to set it pre-series, and it's from Abby's point of view. No real plot, just some relationship development. You can see it as romance or just as friendship...maybe. :)
Disclaimer: I own not NCIS. I own not the characters. I make not money. ...and I'm okay with that.
Who Are You Again?
by Enthusiastic Fish
"Wow. This whole place is mine?" Abby asked, her voice hushed in awe.
"No, this whole place belongs to NCIS...you just get the run of it. Which is a lot better, I promise," James Barton said, grinning. "You don't have to pay for repairs."
Abby laughed delightedly. "How long do I get trained before you're gone?"
"A few months. I'll make sure people are...acclimated to your presence," James said, eyeing Abby's bleeding-skull t-shirt. "If you are as good as your references say, you'll be able to get away with that ghastly attire. Otherwise, you'd better find something more appropriate."
Abby grinned. "I'm better."
The lab was wonderful, Abby decided...but much too quiet. James was gone now and the lab was her domain. That morning she had snuck in a sound system and was now ready to lay claim to the place. She smiled and pushed play. Instantly, the lab began blasting out music.
"Perfect." She got to work.
"What in the world is going on in here?"
The angry shouted voice startled her and spun around as someone touched her sound system.
"Hey!" she said indignantly. "Get away from there! That's mine!"
"Who the heck are you?"
Abby glared at the man who was glaring at her. "I'm Abby Sciuto. Who are you?"
"Agent Gibbs. Who are you? Where's Barton?"
"I told you already. I'm Abby. James retired. Where have you been?"
"So busy you couldn't realize that a guy who had worked here for thirty years retired?"
"Where are you from? Hell? Is that why you're wearing that?"
"I'm from New Orleans. Thank you very much. Where were you born? In a barn? Do you live in the great abyss?"
They stood in the middle of the lab glaring at each other for a long few seconds. Finally, Abby started pointing at him.
"Did you have anything you needed me to do, el Jefe?" At that moment, she could have sworn that this Agent Gibbs was starting to smile. Then, he nodded.
"We need these prints run, and this fiber analyzed."
"Cool beans. I'll get right on it. ...once you turn my music back on." She smiled and took the evidence bags from him...and then waited.
Another long pause and then Gibbs smiled and walked out, turning the music back on as he went.
"You're going to go deaf!"
"I haven't yet!" she shouted back.
"Hey, el Jefe. What have you got for me today?" Abby asked.
"The usual. Why do you play your music so loud?"
"I'm used to it."
"Used to it? Were you deaf?"
"No, but my parents are." She turned around to take the evidence for processing.
So does that mean you sign?
Abby grinned and set down the bags.
Of course. How do you know it?
I have my ways.
"I'll get these done in a flash, el Jefe."
"Why do you call me that?"
"I like it. That's why I do a lot of things."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow but said nothing and left.
Abby noticed that Gibbs was down in her lab more than the rest of the employees of NCIS combined. He never stayed long and he rarely said much...but he came. They traded quips, barbs...the occasional signed conversation. Abby found that she liked the attention, as brief as it was. He didn't comment on what she wore, but she knew he noticed it. He spent long enough looking at it.
Then, he was gone for a long period...and then he was back. Abby noticed but she never commented on it. She just let Gibbs come into her realm and leave. It was almost as though he only existed within the confines of the lab. Outside the lab, he was nonexistent.
Then, there was Stan who was a part of the team that seemed to exist outside the lab...and Abby found herself wondering what they did up there above her.
"Abbs, that's my desk," Gibbs said.
"I know. I've never really been up here before. I mean, I have of course, but I'm never here when you're up here and I think I like it. It's really pretty cool. Hey, Stan!" she waved cheekily.
Stan laughed. "She's not a redhead, Gibbs."
Gibbs rolled his eyes.
"How would you know, Stan? You think this is my natural hair color?"
"Nope...but you're not a redhead," Stan said with an evil grin.
Abby looked up at Gibbs. "Aw, Gibbs. Does that really make a difference?"
Gibbs didn't answer. He just gestured for her to move off his chair.
Three weeks later...
Abby had her music on loud...as usual. She was doing some independent research, hoping to get published. The doors opened.
No response, but she felt him standing right behind her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
"It doesn't make a difference. Did you hear that?"
"I hear everything," Abby said.
She turned around and grinned. "I'm your favorite, right?"
He didn't answer...not with words anyway.