DISCLAIMER: NCIS and its characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
SPOILERS: General spoilers for season 3, but nothing specific.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
"I'm good at jigsaw puzzles."
The lift doors opened and Abby strode off in the direction of her lab, a smirk on her face as she listened to Ziva's hastily following footsteps. She might not have liked the new girl but that didn't mean she couldn't extract a small amount of pleasure from Ziva's transparent attempt to get on her good side.
She dumped the plastic container on the table and snatched a pair of surgical gloves from the box and passed them to Ziva. "To avoid cross contamination you need to wear these at all times." She snapped a second pair onto her own hands and wiggled her fingers in a cartoonish gesture of enjoyment. "We start with the outer edges and work inwards."
Ziva nodded and mentally reconsidered her offer to help. Reconstructing suitcases from the debris left by the bomb squad's overzealous handling was not what she trained for but getting Gibbs' pet lab Goth to like her was a top priority.
Two pieces of once grey polymer slid into place and Ziva smiled up at Abby. "Just like a jigsaw puzzle."
For over two hours the lab was silent as the two women hunched over the remains of the case, the hint of a shell slowly materialising from the wreckage. Outside the evening light had been replaced by the glow of street lamps and the heady noise of rush hour traffic had dwindled to the sound of an occasional passing car.
"McGee said you always play music when you work."
Abby didn't bother to raise her eyes. "Not always."
"Not always or just not when I'm here?"
Silence again descended.
"I am not very good with women." Pulling off her gloves, Ziva began to fiddle with her hair, unravelling the cord that held it in place and then retying the knot. She didn't like talking to women, they always got too emotional, probing her for answers to questions she refused to acknowledge.
"From what I've seen you're not very good with men either." Abby snatched another pair of gloves form the box and handed them to Ziva.
"Men are easy." The second pair of gloves lay forgotten at the side of the table as Ziva turned her full attention to Abby. "If you were a man I could nail it out with you."
That caught Abby's attention. "Nail as in?"
"Nail." Ziva tried to mime a hammering motion. "Pounding, boom, boom, boom."
"If I was a man you'd nail me?"
"Yes." The strange look she was receiving made Ziva reconsider her word choice. Of the five languages she spoke she had always found the varied idioms used in the English language to be the most problematic. "We would sit and nail it out."
"It?" Abby had moved passed dislike and had firmly settled into amused. "You'd nail it or me?"
"I do not understand."
In a move reminiscent of DiNozzo, Abby pumped her hips and let out a 'WhooHooo', which only increased Ziva's confusion. "Nail," Abby tried again, her patience draining and a frown marring her face. "As in sex, making lurve, the two backed monster ride at Disney."
"You wish to have sex?"
"No, I don't want to have sex. You're the one who just offered to boink me if I'd play nice."
"Is playing nice some sort of code word?" Ziva examined Abby's outfit, the white shirt and black accessories made it one of the tamer offerings she'd seen from the Goth. It did, however, remind her slightly of a school girl outfit she'd seen in one of Tony's magazines. "Do you want me to spank you?"
"Okay, now that one came out of left field." Abby double checked to make sure Chip wasn't lurking about the lab. "Who told you I like to be spanked?" Her eyes widened in horror. "Are you spying on me?"
A touch of excitement tinged her voice. "'Cause that would be kind of hot." Abby thought for a second, her smile growing wider, as she invaded Ziva's personal space. "What else do you know?"
"I don't know anything."
"Did you read my blog?" Her eyes squinted. "You're not 'Mistress Goldfinger' are you?"
Ziva considered her options; she could knock Abby unconscious with a single blow or throw her up on the table and show her a few moves she learnt in Tel Aviv that would put anything on Abby's blog to shame. Or...
"Where are you going?"
Ziva waved a dismissive hand as she exited the lab, a confused and suddenly frustrated Abby in her wake.
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