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Title: Need This
By: sandersyager
Pairing: Abby Sciuto/Anthony DiNozzo
Fandom: NCIS
Prompt: 034. Not Enough
Word Count: 1618
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Make me forget what I cannot forget.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.

***

"Now, can I work alone?" I don't have the energy to stand but I'm on my feet and yeah, I sway a little but I'm on my feet and Gibbs lets out a breath he seems surprised he was holding and Tony's eyes are wide. She's there, behind them all, trying to duck back out of the door, like I didn't see her and if she isn't here, this isn't her fault but it is. It's her fault and mine and that bastard growls but he's not going anywhere.

"Jen, not one more step. She deserves an answer, you owe her that much after this," Gibbs sees everything even when he's not looking and he's looking at me but she's trying to disappear because she knows she's got blame to bear and I bet she's not that strong. That tough girl act, the Madam, the bitch that let this happen but Gibbs knows and I'd hug him but these are shitty circumstances and if I move, I'll take Tony's place in that cell but there will be witnesses.

"Well, Abby, this was an unfortunate incident," she won't look at me and I won't move. If I do, I'll break her, break me and there isn't enough duct tape in DC to fix this to stop this to hold this.

"Oh, fuck you, Jen," I'm so tired and she's the Madam, always Madam, is she ever just a woman? Does she ever stop the act and what is she like when it falls, how can she stand there looking at me like I'm the one who fucked up? "I'm sorry. I meant fuck you, Director Shepard."

"Abby," Gibbs and the warning tone but it's not meant for me, not like that, he's got that look like he wants to take me home and make it go away, like it's a nightmare, but this monster was real and there is nothing he can do. Nothing Gibbs can do and he doesn't do helpless, he'll spend hours on the boat, there'll be bottles, plural, in the garbage in the morning and he'll hate himself but he's Gibbs and he can't protect me. But he can make that fucker, Chip, fucker, hurt and he does, he can be gentle but not now and Gibbs' tender is for me not for this fucker who cries out behind the tape as he's lifted. Does it hurt, fucker? Good, and not enough. "Go home with DiNozzo. Don't come in tomorrow."

"Right, Boss," Tony. Tony, Christ, Tony. Real and here and safe and the others are leaving, but Tony is right here and I'm not letting him go. Ever. "Abs, it's okay. I'm okay. It's over. It's over, sweetheart."

The floor, the dry part, the clean part, not the Caf-Pow! puddle, and he lets me sit in his lap, curl into his chest and his arms are strong and safe and we've been here before but it was different then. I can't uncurl my fingers from his shirt, and his lap's a good place to be because he's here and not in jail and not a murderer, and I saved myself this time but he did it before and we spend so much time on this floor together. Don't cry, never cry, never, and my face is wet and his chest rises unevenly so yeah, we cry sometimes but sometimes there are reasons.

"I was so scared, when you were just sitting there," his hand is shaking, right hand, trigger hand, shaking and the lines in his palm look funny passing this close. Never calls me sweetheart, never. Abs, not sweetheart, but he's smoothing my hair and crying so tears fall from his chin. His heart's beating too fast, but maybe it's mine and fear fits into that little space between our skin, feels wrong. "I thought... I thought we were too late."

Shut up, Tony, just be here, just hold me, just stop sounding like that. Staring straight ahead like before, tears rolling down over his cheeks, don't be like this. My hands hurt, this isn't me, this isn't happening but it is and it did and now he's talking about before.

"...like Kate and we can't..." he can't talk anymore, gasps, and he tastes like peppermint. I knew that, I knew he would, and he doesn't hesitate, there's salt on my tongue and peppermint on his breath, and one of us is moaning, one of us is sobbing. Soft, his lips are soft, his teeth are not, the print would be a perfect match from his teeth to my lower lip but no one will ever need to know that and he doesn't bite hard, just a little tug and at least he's not talking about her anymore and this is alive, this isn't us but right now, I'll take it.

"Take me home," I need him to know. Don't make me say it but I will if I have to but he should know and he does and we leave it behind. We'll never leave it behind but there's pretend and my car isn't fancy but it runs and he knows where my keys are tucked into my bag and doesn't say anything about chick cars and guy cars because now is not the time. I wish he would, I wish he'd give me a sign that he's still Tony and there and this will pass like every other day but this wasn't like every other day. Days. There have been days. Plural and not enough sleep and too much fear too much happening and I don't want to feel anymore anything because if I let it out, let it in there will be nothing left. Make me forget what I can't forget, Tony, what this city will never know because Madam will keep it out of the papers and no one knows what we do anyway. Cars and lights and families that will never know what we do and watch CSI to pretend to understand but they'll never know how science can fail, can fall and almost losing everything. Losing him, losing science, I don't know what to do without either, and the choice between there was no choice because the game was rigged from the beginning. Does the question matter when the answer's a lie?

"Abby, we're here," he pulls the key from the ignition, here is his building, his apartment that smells like coffee and vanilla and a kitchen that's never been used but a chair that curves to his body in front of the plasma screen. Bed that smells like sex, some scents cling to the sheets, the mattress, the walls no matter what you do. Clean sheets, obnoxious thread count and I should not be here, we should not do this and his eyes tell me he needs this, needs me, as much I need him. So much between our bodies, in the space between our skin, clothes are easy to make disappear but this isn't naked, it's just bodies and parts. Hard and soft and angry, sad, longing, so much sublimation in a kiss that's about everything I've tried not to feel. Need this.

Need his hands, mouth, the things he does with his tongue and thank god for oral fixations. Something about suckling and human nature, what mouths were made to do first out of the womb. This is my purpose but not what was intended, surely not this, with feeling muted, and the sound of his teeth scraping across my nipple, hips pressing into me where he is hard and I am soft and heat meeting heat because we are alive and safe and here. Sheets that muffle the sounds of bodies, but not his breathing, lower, ticklish belly, and his fingers feel thick pushing into me but god, I need this. Make me forget. Let me pretend.

"Let me forget, forget, oh, god," it's not prayer, just mantra on shallow breaths. His eyes ask questions his lips don't form, and I can't answer, let him climb inside me, let me forget. Let him pull back and push in and curl inside me, more, need more and he gives it, again and again, hot breath and curling tongue that knows. It's not enough, cold inside in places he can't reach, there is nothing left of me but this moment and this memory, and I want his tongue against my clit to be enough, his fist inside me, my body says enough and asks for more than he can give and less than I have. The world explodes behind my eyes, through my feet curled against his back, crashing around the shape of his hand, each knuckle outlined in sharp relief over and over, and it's just chemistry, just muscles and bodies doing what bodies do.

Not enough to drown out the noise, the doubts, my cunt lies and he knows it, and asks a different question. Push, pull, breathe, and latex is required for so much these days, another layer between skin, markers of vulnerability. So vulnerable, breakable, fragile, under all the strength so fragile. He closes his eyes, I want him to see, I need him to see me, know who is here with him, that I am with him. I will always be with him, not like the others who have been here because they've never been here, in this moment, never understand what this means, so close to losing everything, losing control.

He's kissing me when we come together, when I come apart, tasting like salt and sweat, skin and sex, crashing into each other just to feel something. Not forgiveness, not forgetting, not enough, but it's something, it's a start. It's feeling.

***