(A/N and Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, I do own some things; but NCIS isn't one of them.
I haven't written an NCIS fic in ages - no inspiration, really - but this is just a short fic that popped into my mind while I was writing. It's not very good - just plotless, Zabby friendship with mentions of Director/ Abby(boo, hiss - Abby's just too good for her!) - but I thought I might as well pin the idea down and force it, kicking and screaming, into fanfiction form while I had the chance. If I get a good response - and by that, I mean any response, really - I might turn it into a series, if I have the time and inspiration. Anyway, here goes...)

"So, can I kiss you?"

Surprised, Abby felt her something in neck click as she turned sharply to stare at Ziva.

There was nothing on the Israeli's face to hint at a joke - no devious gleam in her dark eyes, no lips turning up at the corners as she fought a laugh. Her gaze was steady, her face expressionless save for a tiny smile; and her eyes, lit up by the streetlamp illuminating the darkened mid-winter street, bright with curiosity as she waited for her friend's response.

And she thought of Jen, their petty fights and their explosive argument of a few hours ago; that had led her to be sitting here on this bench beside Ziva. In a way, it was down to the Director that they had left work together that evening, talking more freely than they ever had before; leading to them beginning the discussion about who on the team Ziva would kiss - if she had to - in the first place.

Abby had been both surprised and flattered when Ziva had named her as that person. Of course, it was purely theoretical. Until now.

She thought of Jen, her fury, her barbed words and accusations; and she looked again at Ziva, meeting her friend's unblinking gaze.

"Alright, then" she replied.

The officer and the scientist gave one another a nervous smile before they leaned forwards, pausing with their noses almost touching; able to feel each other's breath against their skin, before their numb lips finally touched.

Abby was surprised that she felt no guilt as their tentative, experimental kiss deepened, their freezing hands locking together as the raven-haired woman's free hand cradled her friend's neck; oblivious to passers-by or strangers watching in shock from parked cars as their kiss continued. Beside them, their rapidly cooling coffee sat forgotten on the bench.

It was a kiss, just a kiss, between two friends.
And in Abby's mind; girlfriend or no girlfriend, what was there to feel guilty about?