They Should Call it a Live Drop
Cross: Covert Affairs, NCIS
Summary: Auggie meets Abby
Disclaimer: Not Mine
NCIS had stumbled over yet another international conspiracy. It happened too often and this time Auggie was the one to pick up the data. It was a compromise between Auggie's need to get into the field and Joan's need to keep her analyst safe.
"Agent Anderson?" The voice was cheerful –true cheer, not faked- and her shoes didn't sound like anything an NCIS agent would wear.
"And you are?" Auggie drawled.
"Abigail Scuito," she said. "I'm the forensic specialist at NCIS."
"What are you wearing?" Auggie demanded.
"Do you want me to start at the top with my black-dyed hair in two pig-tails or at the bottom with my eight inch heeled black platform knee-high boots?" There was a definite smile in that voice. "Or there's the plaid school-girl skirt covering my bottom."
Auggie had to believe her –to a point. It sounded like she was clomping around in platforms. What kind of agent was she? "Have you fired a gun recently?"
"Nope. My perfume is my own creation. I make it to smell like gunpowder. You like?"
He did actually. "They let you wear all that to work? Or is this an after work errand?"
"Nope. Work. Not only do I have to drop off your little present, Gibbs tasked me with the coffee run. I go straight from here to a crime scene, pick up my evidence and then scurry back to my lab. I wish someone would have told me that you were blind, I would have taken my Braille labeler to the USB drives. But you know what? I have a pocket knife, I'll score these."
Auggie heard the snick of a blade and the scrape of it on plastic. He heard himself asking, "you have a Braille labeler?"
"Of course. Don't you?"
"So?" She sounded confused at his confusion. She wasn't blind and had Braille labeler just hanging around.
Auggie only had one reasonable response to that: "Are you free for dinner?"
"Nope. Not unless Gibbs gets the murderer in his interrogation room and cracked by then, but the team should be done by tomorrow, Thursday at the latest." Auggie heard her put away the knife and then the beep of a cell phone. "What's your number? I'll call you as soon as the murderer is in the brig."
Auggie rattled off his number and she didn't need him to repeat it. "By the way, my dates definitely call me Abby."
"Auggie," he offered in response. "It's very nice to meet you."
Auggie could almost swear that he heard her boots bounce a little. It was freeing, being around someone to unrestrained and transparent. "It is. So… the first drive is two inches up from your left hand; the second one is two inches right of that and the third drive which is the one that you guys will be drooling over for the next three weeks is at your left hand's three o'clock."
Auggie felt the USB drives in order and relaxed when he realized that she had orientated each one the same way with the connection at twelve and then scored a haphazard Braille corresponding number on each one. She was so matter-of-fact over his blindness, over everything in general. "Thank you, Abby."
She leaned forward and her nose bumped Auggie's and her breath smelled of some carbonated beverage. Cherry something? Nothing mainstream. She kissed his lips softly. Her lipstick was a little waxy and Auggie bet that it was black. "It was my pleasure."
Auggie grinned at her and listened as her boots clomped away. Best dead drop of his life. He went to the restroom to rub off her lipstick. He would never hear the end of it if he showed up at the office with black lips. If this lasted more than a couple dates, he was going to introduce her to Annie. They had the same –not innocent, not naïve- but still wide-eyed love of living life.
Auggie hoped that it was infectious.