![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
NCIS - Drabble for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
piwrit_queen
Apr. 26th, 2009 12:02 amBecause my brain needed jogging - prompts: Tony, Abby, pasta, blue.
****
"Tastes even better cold, doesn't it?"
Abby looked up from the gladware container of vodka rigatoni and smiled, offering him a bite from her fork. "You're up early. After a night like that, usually I'm the only one awake at this hour." She glanced out the window at the slowly-brightening horizon.
He combed his fingers through her hair, brushing it off her neck to nibble at the pale skin beneath. "DiNozzo men are known for their staying power." He tilted his head, fingering the neckline of her cotton shirt. "What's this? You never wear blue..."
She looked down at it. "Sorry, I found it in your closet. I didn't want to put on yesterday's clothes and didn't even look at it." She frowned at the shirt. "Are these scrubs?"
He caught sight the stenciled lettering on the hem: Monroe University Hospital.
He felt a twist of pain somewhere inside, as if a scab had been peeled back and still-healing flesh exposed too soon.
"Whatever they are, it's definitely not your color." He tugged it up and off, silencing her squawk of protest with his hand on her breast. She would forgive him the diversionary tactic if she figured it out.
***
****
"Tastes even better cold, doesn't it?"
Abby looked up from the gladware container of vodka rigatoni and smiled, offering him a bite from her fork. "You're up early. After a night like that, usually I'm the only one awake at this hour." She glanced out the window at the slowly-brightening horizon.
He combed his fingers through her hair, brushing it off her neck to nibble at the pale skin beneath. "DiNozzo men are known for their staying power." He tilted his head, fingering the neckline of her cotton shirt. "What's this? You never wear blue..."
She looked down at it. "Sorry, I found it in your closet. I didn't want to put on yesterday's clothes and didn't even look at it." She frowned at the shirt. "Are these scrubs?"
He caught sight the stenciled lettering on the hem: Monroe University Hospital.
He felt a twist of pain somewhere inside, as if a scab had been peeled back and still-healing flesh exposed too soon.
"Whatever they are, it's definitely not your color." He tugged it up and off, silencing her squawk of protest with his hand on her breast. She would forgive him the diversionary tactic if she figured it out.
***
