(A/N: A short Zabby one-shot, although there may be another slashy chapter to follow. Apologies – having never seen "It's A Wonderful Life", I've kind of skimmed over the details. Vague spoilers for season 6. Still, I hope you enjoy. I just felt like writing something, and, well, this is it – I suppose it's a small Christmas present for my friends and readers, so someone had better like it!

Oh, and I don't own NCIS or any part of it, though you probably guessed that already. Having said that, how weird would it be if someone who actually does own part of it wrote fanfic? Sorry, no more ramblings – on with the show, or something like that!)

Merry Christmas, Everyone

Abby stretched and yawned as Tony got up to switch off the screen and switch on the lights. The popcorn supply had long since been exhausted and the team were sitting around in various stages of sleep. Only Tony had any energy left. She had a niggling suspicion that a combination of watching the "greatest Christmas movie ever" and getting one over on Camp had given him this startling bust of energy after working over the whole Christmas holiday.

She looked at the clock, and sighed. Christmas was officially over, and Boxing Day well begun. Gibbs had not returned during the showing. She rather suspected that he had gone home to be on his own and get some peace and quiet to work on his boat. Christmas being a family holiday, she knew that he would be thinking about his wife and child, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to give him a big hug.

All thoughts of Gibbs were soon erased from her mind as the room suddenly lit up at a flick of the light switch. She blinked in the sudden brightness. "Tony! What did you have to go and do that for?"

Tony grinned at her. "Abby, some of us prefer to actually be able to see."

She pouted, not entirely seriously, and got up to gather her things together. "I can see perfectly well in the dark, thank you." Turning, she saw the devilish look on Tony's face. "And I don't want you making an innuendo out of that, Mr One-Track Mind!" She smiled to show she was joking, but her smile turned into a yawn, and she realised just how tired she really was. Picking up her bag, she glanced around the room one last time. McGee was half-asleep on the floor, still Taser-ed out and snuffling quietly. Ducky had put on his hat and coat and gave her a wave and a smile as he pulled open the door, careful not to wake their slumbering colleague. He mouthed "Merry Christmas!" to her as he let the door close gently behind him.

Tony was trying to engage Ziva in a conversation about the film. She, however, looked pretty tired, and Abby was surprised she hadn't shut him up already. Watching the Israeli becoming increasingly more stony-faced, she decided to save both of them from what was sure to be a sticky end. She bounced over, bunches flying.

"Hey guys! Ziva, want a lift?" She grinned widely at Tony's fallen face and Ziva's look of gratitude, reflecting that by now he really should have learned not to mess with a sleep-deprived Mossad-trained agent at the end of her tether. Still, this was Tony they were talking about.

"Yes, thankyou, Abby. Let me just get my lovely present." Ziva smirked at Tony and picked up her cotton wool plant. "Shall we go?"

"One minute!" Abby bent down next to McGee's slumbering form and whispered in his ear. "Happy Christmas!"

"Whh – snnnhhhh-" He began to stir, making incoherent noises. Tony sniggered. Glaring at Tony, she stroked the dozing agent's hair. "Shhh. Go back to sleep, Timmy."

She straightened up, giving Tony the evil eye. "Let's go, Ziva." Together the two friends left the room and made their way out down to Abby's unusual automobile. Silently Abby thanked her lucky stars it was assumed she would be driving. Ziva's driving was bad enough on a normal day, with a normal amount of sleep.

The drive was uncharacteristically silent, both being far too tired to engage in idle talk. The first word spoken was by Ziva, when it became apparent that Abby, in her lethargic state, was heading straight for her own apartment.

"Abby? This is the way to your home. I live the other way."

The Goth slammed her fist against the steering wheel in a sudden display of annoyance and anger, and the car swerved violently. Regaining control, she kept her eyes on the road ahead, fumbling for the words. "I'm so sorry, Ziva – damn nutmeg Caff-Pow! – I'll turn around up here – or you could crash at my place, it's no trouble – but of course you want to go home – I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

Ziva placed a calming hand on top of Abby's to stop her wittering. "It's okay, Abby. I will stay at your place, if that is okay with you. It seems a waste to go all the way back now, and we are both so tired." Inside her heart was suddenly beating very fast, for no good reason that she could see. Surely it was not the prospect of spending the night at Abby's?

On her part, Abby was also feeling excited. The butterflies in her stomach were doing somersaults, and it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe. She tried to ignore her sudden breathlessness, though she knew full well what the cause was. The idea of having her beautiful friend all to herself in her flat for the night was almost too much to bear. Sure, maybe she'd had a little bit much to drink, but she'd felt some kind of base attraction even when completely sober. And who wouldn't? There was something undeniably attractive about the Israeli. Only Gibbs seemed to be immune to her charms, and she was sure if her hair had been redder in tone that would have been a different story.

Amidst her wandering thoughts they had arrived at her block. She parked, and they slowly walked together to her flat. Was it just in her imagination that there was something else between them that hadn't been there earlier? It must just be in her mind. She let them both in, and there was an awkward pause as they looked at each other. Ziva broke the silence.

"Could I please borrow a T-shirt, or pyjamas of some kind? And a sleeping bag?"

Abby rushed to her room, returning with a long black shirt. "Um, you can have the sofa, or you can always share the coffin, if you want." Feeling the colour rushing to her face, she rushed on. "I mean, we're both adults. But – sleeping bag, of course – I'll find you something-"

For the second time that evening Ziva's hand stopped her hurried speech, but this time the hand was not on her own, but placed gently on her neck, thumb stroking her cheek.

"Abby." She looked into those eyes, so deep, and smiling. And for once she didn't say anything – didn't need to say anything. She was lost in Ziva's eyes, in her face, in her wide smile. Unconsciously they moved closer together until their bodies were touching, pressed up against each other uncertainly, and staring all the while into each other's faces in wonderment. Ziva's hand was still on Abby's neck, moving round to cradle the back of her head.

"Abigail." Nobody called her Abigail – nobody but Ducky, that is – but coming from Ziva it was different, somehow. Less like a cajoling parent, or even a close friend; more like a long-term lover. It was the way she rolled the word around her mouth slowly, softly, lingering on the soft 'l'. She smiled hesitantly, and was gratified when Ziva's smile became (if that was possible) even wider. This was no bad thing, but it did have the side effect of making Abby focus rather closely on her mouth – more importantly, her lips. How nice it would be just to kiss her, stroke her cheek, tangle her hands in that dark brown hair.

Her sudden fixation was not lost on her colleague, who tilted her head to one side invitingly with a teasing grin. "See something you like?"

That just about did it for Abby. She leant forward and kissed her, gently, on those lips, and was not surprised when Ziva began to kiss back. Enjoying it as she was, she soon broke the kiss, and laughed softly when she saw the mess her lipstick had made of Ziva's face.

"Sorry, Ziva – you might want to get something for that."

Ziva, a look of puzzlement on her face, walked swiftly to the bathroom and inspected herself in the mirror. Having followed her, Abby soon provided her with a handy tissue, and lost no time in removing her own makeup. All the while she kept her eyes on the mirror, watching Ziva watching her, and liking it.

Ministrations complete, she moved behind Ziva, the earlier hesitance gone. She slid her hands around the slender waist, pressing herself into her back, holding her tight. It was better than she'd imagined – far better. They fitted somehow. Not to mention they looked good together, she thought, gazing into the mirror with a half-smile which widened as she considered what Tony would do to be there right now.

Ziva was once again the first to speak. "Abigail?"

"Ziva?" she purred, still looking at their reflection.

"Take off the boots."

She laughed then, outright, realising what was odd about the picture. She towered above her colleague, who had removed her own shoes while she was blundering about fetching makeshift pyjamas. With a twinge of regret she stepped back, releasing Ziva from the embrace, and bent down to do away with the offending items. Ziva, meanwhile, had turned around and was regarding her with an odd expression, a mix of affection and mischief.

Puzzled, Abby grinned uncertainly. "What?"

Ziva folded her arms. "I was just thinking – about the sleeping arrangements…" She trailed off, and Abby's heart flipped inside her chest. She hastened to fill the pause.

"I've got a spare duvet, and the sofa's really quite comfy – it's really up to you –"

Ziva kissed her quickly and affectionately. "Much as I like to try new things, I refuse to sleep in a coffin on the day after Christmas having spent the last few days at work. I am far too tired to be experimental now."

Abby hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. "Of course – let me just get some things for you –" She hurried out of the room, muttering to herself, and did not turn to see Ziva gazing after her with a look of regret.

She soon had an improvised, rather black bed set up on the sofa, and she gestured to it, indicating that it was ready. "Um… I'll say goodnight now – I'm sure you want to get some sleep –" Bending down, she kissed her cheek calmly, though inside her mind was spinning. What was she supposed to do now? Only half an hour ago they had been no more than friends – and now – what were they now? She turned to go to her own room, a wistful "Goodnight!" flung over her shoulder.

*********************************************************************

Abby tossed and turned in the small space. Try as she might, she couldn't sleep. Who would, with a beautiful woman like Ziva on their sofa, just out of reach? But it was more than that. She wasn't looking for sex. She was far too tired. The truth was she was lonely. Yes, she wanted Ziva. But she didn't want a one night stand, both drunk on lack of sleep and regretting it in the morning. She wanted a companion, someone to hold, and to sleep next to every night, and wake up next to in the morning. She just wasn't sure if the woman she loved could offer that. Ziva wasn't exactly renowned for her warmth.

Sighing, she climbed out of her coffin, and padded to the door. In the dim light she could make out her friend on the sofa, curled up like a cat under the covers. There was nothing for it now. She had to go to her, even facing rejection. She couldn't deny it any longer.

She crossed the floor silently and quickly, trying not to wake her, and hoping at the same time that she did. As she knelt down next to the sofa, watching Ziva's peaceful face in the half-light, she sighed, thinking of what could be and what could never be. The sigh somehow disturbed her sleep, for she began to stir, opening her eyes far too quickly for someone who had seemed to be in a deep sleep not moment before. Seeing Abby's face so near to her own, Ziva smiled a sleepy smile, brushed Abby's black hair released from its bunches, and kissed her invitingly.

"I've been waiting for you."

Abby couldn't believe her ears, however much she wanted to. So she sat very still, hardly daring to breathe, longing for Ziva to speak again. And so she did.

"You look like a – a rabbit in the headlights, I think you would say?"

She had to smile then, at the familiar hesitation, the halting words spoken but not altogether understood.

"I – I couldn't sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

There it was again, that cat-like grin, now fully awake.

"Of course not."

Was that sarcasm she detected behind the smile? She began to chuckle very softly, and her friend along with her, until Ziva stopped, abruptly.

"Abby. Are you going to, or not?"

"Going to what?" The confusion was plain on her face, and Ziva sighed, throwing back the duvet temptingly.

"I'm cold. You can't sleep. And you should really learn to let me finish my sentences once in a while. What I said earlier, about the coffin? I hadn't finished. I was going to say that I was, and still am, sure that this sofa is big enough for the two of us."

She moved to the back of the sofa, and Abby could see, now, that what she said was true, that two people (albeit two people who didn't mind being very close indeed) could easily share it. Slowly she got to her feet and perched on the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure?"

Ziva, characteristically, just rolled her eyes. So she lay down with her head against the armrest, and pulled the covers over herself (now she thought about it, she had been cold, on her own), and smiled at Ziva's once-again-sleepy face. Then she felt an arm about her waist, pulling her closer, and she smiled all the more. That was better.

As she drifted off into a hazy, comfy sleep, she thought she heard a drowsy whisper in her ear:

"Merry Christmas, Abby."

The "Meh Chismeh, Zee" that followed could have been intended to be a greeting in kind. But for once it didn't matter that it was inaudible. The sentiment was there.

And now they could both get some sleep.

(A/N: Anyone enjoy that cutesy Christmassy slush? Not my best, but hey, I just didn't have it in me to do angst at Christmas!)