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He's lying on his cot, not sleeping. Sleeping would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn't on a cot, two feet away from Gibbs, in fucking Afghanistan, where he most decidedly does not want to be.
His phone is on silent, but he feels it buzz.
Bedtime? It's a text from Abby.
About twenty minutes ago. You just getting up?
Yeah. Check your email.
He does. There are ten new emails from her. He opens the first one, and it's a picture she took of herself snuggled into his bed, on his pillow. He smiles a little at that, and then goes to the next one. The next one takes a second to open. It's got some sort of mild encryption on it. Same basic pose, her in bed, laying snuggled up with his pillow, but this time the comforter is back enough so he can see she's wearing the cobalt blue silk teddy with the white lace trim he got her a few days earlier.
He opens the third one, and this one takes a few seconds to open. A little more encryption. This one's a panties shot, and yes, she's wearing the panties that go with that teddy. Her hand is splayed open against her inner thigh, thumb on her mound, index finger just dipping under the hem at her leg, but what really gets his attention is the tiny, probably dime-sized, wet spot on the crotch.
He hasn't gotten that hard that fast without a girl actually touching him since he was fourteen.
He shuts down email really fast and finds another text from her.
Like what you saw?
You are evil. Gibbs is sleeping two feet away from me!
Then you'll just have to be really quiet.
I'll have to just be really frustrated. I'm not jerking off with him right next to me.
Why not? You can be quiet.
Not that quiet.
So go to the head.
Communal showers, communal head.
No stalls?
No.
Yuck.
Yeah. No privacy, at all, until Germany, two days from now.
Poor baby. Did you look at all of them?
Just the first three.
There's some really good stuff in there.
He grits his teeth, wanting to groan, not wanting to wake up Gibbs as he images what really good stuff might be.
This is not helping with being frustrated.
How about this: I won't touch myself until you get back, and when you do, we'll tear each other's clothes off and fuck like bunnies.
I'm sensing you do not grasp the concept of how male sexual frustration works.
Maybe not. ;) But I certainly get teasing and anticipation. And it's not like four days of no sex is a record for you.
True enough.
So I'll be home, in your bed, wearing the frilly lacy things you've bought me, not touching myself, waiting for you to get home.
You are killing me.
:P So what is your record?
On my own or with a woman?
Both
Seven days on my own, eighteen months with a woman. You?
Six weeks on my own, ten months with a guy.
Six weeks?
Gave it up for Lent once.
Huh. I had the flu for the seven days.
LOL He can imagine the look on her face as she laughs at that. So, lack of sex aside, how is it going?
Hot, dry, people want to kill us, same old, same old. You?
Lot better than that. How's Dex?
He's a Labrador in a war zone with a job to do, and Gibbs is doting on him. He's happy as a clam.
You ever want another dog? German Shepherds live ten to twelve years, and Jethro was already six when he got him. He had died last year.
No. Loving something I was going to outlive by fifty years once was enough.
I get that.
How about you? The new place will let us have one, you want a pet?
A kitten?
I'm allergic to them.
Ferret?
Eat your computer wires.
Bunny?
See Ferret.
Chinchilla?
You can't get them wet.
Why would you want to get a chinchilla wet?
I wouldn't. But if they get wet they get sick.
That makes no sense. They're animals that live outdoors, in the jungle, where it rains.
Look, that's what my mom told us when my sister wanted one. They make bad pets because if you get them wet, they die. He waited, but no new words popped up. It occurs to him that just possibly his mom wasn't telling the truth about that. She wasn't exactly a pet person, and didn't want any sort of small furry thing living in their home. Are you laughing at that?
No. Just couldn't figure out what to say to it. Anyway, I don't think we're getting a pet.
Probably not.
So, Gibbs is sleeping?
He's laying down, his eyes are closed, and he's snoring. If he's not asleep, I don't know what asleep is.
What I'd give to see that. Take a picture?
No!
Come on. You know you want to.
Fine.
He rolled onto his side and aimed his phone, and without opening his eyes Gibbs said, "Take a picture and die, McGee. Tell Abby goodnight and go to sleep."
Apparently, I don't know what asleep is. I've been ordered to go to tell you goodnight and go to sleep.
Goodnight
Love you.
Love you, too.
Next
A/N: Okay, I absolutely adored Seek. Best episode of the year. I loved the fact that we get confirmation that Tim still writes, and the look on his face when Gibbs says they're going to Afghanistan is priceless. And you can see Gibbs is enjoying taking him way too much. (More on that in a later chapter.) That's exactly the way I would have written that scene, but they did it for me! YAY!
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