<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">Seeing the lights on in his place was an adrenaline rush he didn't need -- and the text from Abby sent it crashing into frustration.  "Sarah," he hissed to himself.  Meddling meddler who meddles.  But there was no help for it.<br/>
<br/>
Tim unlocked his door, locked it behind him, and put his gun in the wall safe before approaching Abby.  "What I need most is my little sister to stop trying to run my life," he said testily -- but his anger was to cover the fact that he was about to fall apart, and he didn't want to do it in front of Abby.<br/>
<br/>
Didn't want to, but couldn't stop it from happening.  Not with warm arms around him, and those very soft lips on his forehead, and those very bright eyes on his.  And wordlessly, he broke.  Just -- just broke, standing there with his chest heaving, tears rolling down his cheeks, and his nose turning bright red and running in that way he'd always hated that made it impossible for him to hide crying spells.  He reached for Abby, clinging to her as thoroughly as Sarah had clung to him earlier, but this time he was the one in need of comfort.  He'd managed to catch Bert in his arms, and the familiar hippo fart was as oddly soothing as that distinctive smell he associated with Abby -- part shampoo, part lotion, part faint whiff of chemicals.  <br/>
<br/>
"I can't fix this, Abby," he managed to say some time later, though it was hard to force words around sobs he couldn't seem to stop.  "I'm supposed to be able to protect her.  She's my baby sister, I'm supposed to -- I'm supposed to be her knight in shining armor and I can't... I can't fix this."<br/>
<br/>
* ~ *<br/>
<br/>
Tony had no idea how long he'd slept, but when he opened his eyes... Ziva was still there.  He felt a warmth building in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time, but he tucked it away.  She was his partner.  She was taking care of her partner.  That was all.  It meant more to him because he was a fucked up kid in a Very Special Agent suit, but that didn't mean it meant the same thing to her.  So... he would pretend this was normal between partners...<br/>
<br/>
... even though he couldn't picture Kate or McGee doing it.  Abby, maybe.  But he didn't think that warmth in his chest would have been the same.  He loved Abby like a sister... this wasn't that, he didn't think.<br/>
<br/>
He blinked, realizing he didn't know how long he'd been staring at Ziva's sleeping form... and then he realized her hand was in his, and the warmth in his chest grew a little bit more.<br/>
<br/>
No.  Partner.  Rule Twelve.  Her life in the field depending on his ability to be a good partner, and that didn't involve warm feelings in his heart.  So he pulled away, and slid out of bed, and headed for the bathroom.  He just... needed a minute, to pull his barriers back up.  To remind himself what happened when partners couldn't be good partners... and what happened to his heart in the past, when he'd let himself listen to it.<br/>
<br/>
* ~ *<br/>
<br/>
Gibbs slid her shirt up over her body, but he didn't rush -- he moved it slowly, caressing her skin as he lifted the shirt, exploring even as he briefly trapped her arms in it, removing it.  She was breathtaking -- glorious, like something out of one of the great master's paintings, and he wanted to taste every inch of her.  Finally pulling the shirt completely off, he tossed it aside and pulled her close again... and reached behind her to unfasten her bra.  He hadn't done that in a while, but he hadn't forgotten the trick to doing it one handed... and with it loose, he could finally slide his hands up under the cups and onto the nipples that he definitely had not been admiring for the entire two years he'd worked with her.  <br/>
<br/>
He wished she could hear him, because this was the point at which he wanted to ask what she was comfortable with -- he didn't want to push her, didn't want to rush this but... he wanted more.  He wanted everything.  His own breath was coming in pants as well as he caressed her skin, memorizing every curve.  He'd have to lead, he realized -- she'd stop him, if it wasn't what she wanted... but he'd have to take the initiative.<br/>
<br/>
He caught one of her hands, and brought it to the button of his pants, pulling his face back long enough to raise an eyebrow in question.  Did she want to go there?  If she didn't, all she had to do was move her hand... but if she did... God knew he wanted to.</span></span>