Chapter 222: Better
In almost any way, Gibbs would tell you the world has been
getting to be a better and better place. He firmly believes that, but there are
some things he finds… perplexing.
Like, when did it become expected for men to attend baby
showers?
He knows it wasn't when Shannon was pregnant. When she was
pregnant it was his job to drop her off at her best friend's house and then
come back four hours later and lug presents into the car and into the house,
and then assemble any presents that required assembly. And that was a job he
felt fully capable of doing not just well, but with a certain level of style.
And Tobias told him it wasn't when Diane was pregnant.
But somehow, over the years, that changed, and he found
himself at Molly's baby shower (hosted by Abby and Tim), and is now in the
process of putting the finishing touches on the decorations at Jimmy's place
because Breena's having a surprise shower for Tim and Abby, and somehow he and
Ducky got roped into this.
 |
| Yum |
And it's not that he doesn't love Tim and Abby, let alone
that he doesn't love Kelly, it's just that standing on a chair tacking up pink
skull bedecked streamers as Ducky arranges little sandwiches on a tray feels
really weird to him.
Ducky looks up at him from the tray, and says, "Did you
ever think, Jethro, that we'd be here?"
"No, Duck. I really didn't."
Ducky laughs at that.
Breena bustles in with a tray covered in tiny pink cupcakes with
little skulls on them. She checks the sandwiches and the decorations.
"Good work, guys."
Gibbs shakes his head, bemused. At least he's doing it well.
 |
| Best baby shower present ever! |
Goth baby shower probably isn't a contradiction in terms or
an oxymoron per se, but like with Goth maternity clothing it just doesn't seem
to be something that anyone plans for.
Of course, this isn't a baby shower in the traditional
sense. Usually the idea of a baby shower is the same idea behind wedding
presents, namely your family all chips in to get you the stuff you need, but
presumably can't afford because you're young and don't have any money.
Which is, of course, not the case, for Tim and Abby.
So, really, this is more like a birthday party for Kelly. A
real first birthday.
Presents are tending toward small and cute. (With the
exception of the Bissell Little Green Steam Cleaner Jimmy and Breena got them,
which is, according to Breena, the single most useful appliance for new
parents, hands down.) And mostly they're just gathering together for the fun of
all being together.
Tony pulled him aside as the party was winding down.
"Look, you don't have to tell me what's going on. If it's private, I'll
leave it alone. But, just, don't lie to me, okay? We're worried about you. Both
Ziva and I can see you didn't do this to yourself with a mirror."
Yeah, he's healing up, band aids are off, but he's got a lot
of fine pink lines/scabs on his face, neck, forearms and hands.
Tim suddenly gets that Tony really will leave this alone.
That in the last three years he has grown up enough to be able to do that.
Tim nods at him, saying, "I'm not okay, not on this,
but I will be, eventually. It's nothing you can change or help with. And one of
these days, when I feel like talking about it, I'll tell you, but not right
now. Right now, I just want to let it lie. I've got a lot of bigger, better
things on my horizon and I want to focus on them."
"Okay." Tony's voice is serious, and he's looking
at Tim like if he stares hard enough he can figure out what's going on.
"Everyone who does need to know, knows?"
"Yeah. It's not a secret, it's just, literally, I don't
want to say the words. Don't want to think about it. You can ask Gibbs about it
if you like. He'll fill you in."
Tony gives him a sort of half-smile and puts his hand on
Tim's shoulder. "I'll wait for you. It's not anything with Abby or Kelly,
though? You guys didn't get more troubling news?"
"No, nothing with them. Right now they're keeping me
afloat. Just… stuff I didn't deal with a long time ago coming back and biting
me in the ass."
"Okay. Look, you need to go get drunk, or fight, or
run, or whatever, give me a call and I'm in."
"Thanks."
Much later that night, after the presents had been put away,
and they were settling in for sleep, Tim kissed Abby's neck, hand cupping her
breast, body snugged close to hers, very much telegraphing this is not just a
good night kiss.
"Not tonight," she sounds pretty tired and kind of
annoyed as she says that.
"Okay. Can I spoon you?" Normally Tim wouldn't
ask. Normally he'd just cuddle up and go to sleep, but since they got home
Abby's been in one of her porcupine moods, and his current Rule Number 3 is 'Do
not unnecessarily poke the porcupine.'
"Sure."
He cuddled up close, hoping to find a position that let him
snuggle her but also didn't annoy/make her more uncomfortable.
And for a few minutes he thought he had. He was relaxing,
fantasizing a little, but planning on just going to sleep. He likes thinking
about sex as something to fall asleep to, tends to lead to good dreams. He was
about three quarters asleep, where the line between fantasy and dream had
gotten pretty blurry.
"I said not tonight."
That yanked him back to the fully awake side of the line.
"And I'm fine with that."
"You're poking me."
Sigh. Literally, don't poke the porcupine. Stupid body. "You're
warm, soft, naked, and pressed up against me. I'm enjoying that. I'm not
intending to do anything with it."
"Better not." Another quiet minute. "Do you
want to do something with it?"
That gets a smile out of Tim, and he kisses Abby's shoulder.
"Not twelve anymore, when I have an erection it's because I want to do
something with it."
"Or you're just waking up."
"Once I'm awake, I want to do something with it."
She laughs a little at that.
"Why are you asking? Want me to do something?"
"No. Not really. I'm tired, irritable, and everything
hurts."
"You might feel better after some sex." He can
feel her glare. "Not pushing my luck. Just, endorphins, you know?"
She rolls over to face him, a fairly long and complicated
procedure, but finally she's laying on her left side. "You really want to
have sex?"
"Ummm… yeah. As you noticed, I'm poking you. Or would
be if your back was to me." His tummy is against hers, his hand on her
hip, and these days that means his dick's nowhere near her body.
"With me?" She's looking awfully doubtful at that.
"You see anyone else here?"
"I'm the size and shape of a killer whale: a
stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whale."
He grins and kisses the tip of her nose. "Then add
stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whales to the list of things that
turn me on."
She laughs.
"Look, I want to have sex with you. No matter what. You
may think you look like a whale, but I'm not seeing that. You're all soft and
round and that's my kid in there, and I really like that. Come on, you know I
get off on other people knowing you're mine, and eight months pregnant with my
kid is more or less the ultimate symbol of that."
She nods.
"And I get that you're not all Yay! Sex right now, and
that's cool. But whenever you are, for any kind of sex you want, I'm game. And
I will always be game. If I end up a quadriplegic, and you want sex, I will
talk to you until you're dripping down your legs and lick and suck your pussy
until you're quivering and screaming. No matter what, Abby, I want you, and I
want to be with you, and I want to feel you get off just as hard as I do."
She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."
"That's like thanking me for breathing. No matter what,
as long as I've got higher-level neural functions, that's going to be true."
He's quiet for a moment, breathing against her. Then he
grins. "Sooo…"
"Uh uh." Her head shakes.
"Not a problem. Wanna keep me company while I take care
of this myself?"
She smiles at him. "Sure."
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