Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 001 Word Count: 1337
Character(s): Tony DiNozzo, Abby Sciuto, Timothy McGee
Category(ies): Friendship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Pairing(s): Abby/McGee, Abby/Tony, Tony/McGee
Summary: Individually, Abby and McGee are clever and sneaky. Together? They cracked the Pentagon.
Tony really should have known better.
They don't do this often. Kate never trusted him enough to get drunk in the same room together, and since she...died, nobody's really felt like celebrating much. But Ziva is persistent (and kind of scary), so here they are, doing the drinks-after-work thing.
Or at least, here he, Abby, and McGee are, lounging all by their lonesomes in the big circle-booth. Gibbs had simply given them the look and gone off for a date with his boat (or possibly a redhead, though Tony doubts that), and Ducky had pleaded exhaustion and a case of undependable nurse. And now Ziva's ditching them, bouncing out the door with a sly wink and a redhead of her own.
Tony thinks that almost makes up for the not-being-invited-to-dinner thing. (He's still going to hold that over her head, though.)
Tony grunts as McGee jerks backwards, bumbling into him in an unsuccessful attempt to escape Abby's punch. (Abby might hit like a girl, but she packs enough heat to leave a mark even when she's kidding around.) By the pleased, slightly scandalized smirk on Abby's face, whatever McGee said must have been good. Tony shoves McGee back, then leans forward and throws an arm across his shoulders.
"Has Timmy been a bad boy?"
Abby giggles. Tony can feel McGee sigh, can practically hear him roll his eyes before he opens his mouth to protest.
"All I said was that I wouldn't be surprised if Ziva has a thing for Abby. It's not that big a deal."
"Of course it's not, Probie." Tony slaps McGee between the shoulder blades. "Rule number six. Or maybe it's ten. Whatever. The point is, when the lady doth protest too much, it means something." He turns his attention on Abby, bobbing his eyebrows. "So Abs, you and Ziva ever--"
This time the punch lands on Tony's shoulder.
"You two!" Abby's flushed, rosy pink undertones fleshing up her marble skin, but Tony can't tell whether it's an honest-to-God blush or just the mark of the vodka in her Red Bull. She can't hold the affronted pout for long, though, and her tongue parts her lips into a dirty smile as she leans in close.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she whispers, right in his face, right into McGee's ear. Tony can feel McGee shudder, but he forgoes the probie-baiting in favor of playing Abby's game.
"I take it that's a yes?"
"That's a maybe." Abby pulls her eyebrows into a overwrought frown. "You won't get me to crack, DiNozzo, no matter what scary cop-tactics you use on me."
He lets his eyes run down her body (what he can see of it, anyway–she's pressed tight against McGee, so just a hint of cleavage shows), and takes his time returning to her eyes, lingering over her long, luscious throat, licking his own lips as he stares at hers. "Is that a dare?" he asks when he finally meets her gaze again, patented DiNozzo leer in place.
"Um, guys? You think you could do this when I'm not in the middle?"
"Shut up, Probie," Tony hisses, but Abby pulls back, the bit already between her teeth.
"Ooh, now that's an idea I can get behind," she says, bouncing in the seat. "So, Tony, you and Tim ever--?"
Tony laughs in her face. "Cute. No."
"Mmm, too bad," she drawls. "Two of my favorite guys, hot and heavy? Nothing gets a girl going faster."
McGee turns his head, eyebrow cocked like a gun, and Tony suddenly has a bad feeling in his gut. "It's okay, Tony. We're all friends here. Abby can take the truth."
A very bad feeling.
Abby bounces again. "Ooh, spill!"
"There's nothing to spill," Tony grinds out.
Abby gives him a long, pointed look, and Tony realizes he's still draped across McGee. He scoots back as fast as he can, tucking himself into the curve of the booth.
Unfortunately, that gives McGee room to maneuver. He slouches against the backrest, looking more relaxed than Tony's seen him before, and grips Tony's shoulder in a strong hand. "Don't be so coy, Tony. I'm sure Abby would love to hear all about our 'stakeouts' together."
McGee's fingers brush against Tony's neck when he makes the airquotes. Tony ignores the shiver that dances up his skin and swipes at McGee's hand.
"You won't think you're so funny the next time somebody takes a leak in interrogation."
McGee smiles and bats his eyelashes, not cowed in the slightest. "Why, Tony, that would constitute sexual harassment."
Abby laughs. Tony glares. (He hasn't stopped glaring, actually, but it's obvious that he doesn't have the Gibbs-thing down--yet.)
"Poor, poor Tony," she says before she kneels up on the seat, practically straddling McGee's lap, and grabs Tony by the tie. "Are we harassing you?"
He carefully pulls the silk out of her clutches, and she shifts her hands to his chest. Checking out her cleavage isn't entirely under his conscious control this time. "I know how you can make it up to me."
Abby smiles. "Oh yeah?"
"Kiss it and make it better." He tilts his head back and puckers his lips.
For a second he thinks she'll plant one on him, but Abby doesn't give in so easily. "I will trade one of my kisses," she bargains, midnight lips beckoning at eight pm, "for one of yours."
Tony looks at McGee, who's looking uncertain now, and then back to Abby, smug in her sex-kitten pose. "I thought that's what I said?"
"Not quite." She's got one eyebrow cocked, lips pursed thoughtfully, and Tony remembers: this is the woman who has Gibbs wrapped around her little pinky. "You kiss Tim, and you can have one of my kisses."
Tony chuckles. "Nice try, sweetheart, but it ain't happening."
Abby holds up a finger. "I don't think you've thought this through completely. I said you could have one of my kisses--to do with as you please."
He's still not following, wondering if she's suggesting something even naughtier than he'd imagined, when she nods at the really hot waitress who's been tending their table all night.
She grins. "Yes way."
"Anybody? Even Ziva?"
Abby shrugs. "If she'll go along with it."
"Do I get any say in this?"
They both turn back to McGee. "I thought you didn't mind outing us, Timmy," Tony says, and the worried gulp that slides down McGee's throat almost makes up for what he's about to do. Abby moves back to give them room, and Tony leans forward, intending to brush a quick peck across McGee's lips. Get in, get out, get the job done.
He closes his eyes and goes for it. Just lips, a little chapped but not bad enough to scratch. Tony starts to pull away--
And then a hand clamps down on the back of his neck, pulling him back in. McGee opens his mouth, and then they're kissing for real, lips smushing together, pulling and gliding softly, wetly. Just lips, just kisses.
Tony really, really likes kisses.
Flicking his tongue over McGee's lip is enough to shock Tony back into awareness. He snaps his head back, and McGee lets go without a struggle. Tony wipes his mouth, breathing hard from shock and nothing else. McGee is staring at him, eyes wide and panting--but the probie always pants when a little exertion gets thrown his way.
"Wow, you two weren't full of shit after all."
They turn to Abby as one. Tony blinks, taking a long second to process her meaning.
"Actually, Abby," McGee starts. "We're not--"
"I've gotta go." It's about the worst line Tony's ever fed anyone, but he's tired and sober, and really not in the mood to play the game anymore. He grabs his jacket and climbs out of the booth before Abby can aim her pout at him again. They gape at him as he stands. "You owe me big," he tells Abby, and turns to go.
(He doesn't notice that McGee's lips are still shiny. Doesn't notice at all.)