Tony stood to one side of the ballroom, eyes trained on Ziva. She sat at the table shared by the NCIS team, sipping a martini and talking to Abby. He had spent the entire night waiting for a good time to ask her to dance; he wanted to catch her when she was already on the dance floor, but she hadn't been out there once.
Looked like he needed to take matters into his own hands.
With a deep breath, he started back towards the table. When he came up beside Ziva, she looked up at him and quipped, "Where did you go to use the restroom, Tony, South America?"
"Ha ha," he said dryly. She looked up at him with her straw between her lips, and he almost lost his nerve. Almost. Then the song switched, from one slow melody to another, and the words were out before he knew what he was doing. "Wanna dance?"
The straw fell from her mouth. Tony kept his eyes on her face. He finally extended his hand, and she took it. As he led her out on the dance floor, he relished the feel of her warm fingers in his and wished- hoped- he could turn holding her hand into a habit.
He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her closer, inch by inch, waiting for her to back away. She didn't. Ziva allowed herself to be pull flush against him, and then she smiled as her arms fell around his neck. They swayed to the music, eyes locked together. Tony kept opening his mouth to say something, but he couldn't think of the right words to use, and then he realized that the moment was perfect without them. Ziva David was in his arms, and she looked pretty happy to be there, so Tony rested his cheek against her hair and listened to the music.
McGee watched with growing dread as he two teammates danced and held each other. His eyes strayed to the left, to Abby, and then snapped back ahead of him. Crap.
Several years ago, while watching Tony and Ziva flirt, he had made a promise to himself: when Tony started getting somewhere with Ziva, he would try to move forward with Abby.
He hadn't expected Tony to mobilize tonight. But there they were, acting like nobody else existed, and McGee was totally unprepared to follow up on his promise.
"Aren't they cute?" Abby's voice cut into his thoughts. She looked amazing in a black dress with sleeves made of black laces, but that smile on her face was what made McGee's heart speed up.
Do it, he told himself. Do it now. Now.
"Abby," he began, rising from his chair on shaky legs and holding out a hand. "May I have this dance?"
For one long second, she looked at him, and his heart stopped. Then her smile widened, and McGee felt one stretching across his own face. Abby hopped up and kissed his cheek. "Of course, Timmy."
Gibbs turned away from the refreshment table, wincing as he took a gulp of the sub par punch. Should have brought my own bourbon.
He stared across the ballroom, and his eyes landed on two familiar dancing couples. All three of his field agents, and his forensic scientist, were dancing, and they all looked completely enamored with their respective partners. Briefly, he entertained the idea of going over to head-slap them all- maybe even Abby- but then decided it was about time to accept the inevitable.
With a roll of his eyes, Gibbs abandoned his punch on the table and wandered off to find Ducky, who he would bet was not off violating rule twelve.
Just a fluff piece. First time writing any form of McAbby, that I can remember. Hope you enjoyed. I'm so excited for that wedding! Review, please?