DISCLAIMER: Story mine/characters not.
"No...No...No...No..." Abby said, not bothering to look up from her screen.
"It is usually customary to wait until one asks before refusing, no?"
"Except when Gibbs sends you to do his dirty work."
Ziva deposited the cup on the desk. "I need answers - yesterday. Motivate her," He had instructed as he shoved the standard Gibbs-motivational/reward-offering at her before sending her to Abby's lab. Abby instantly latched onto the straw and sucked down a full quarter of Caf-Pow.
"I take it you have not found anything, yet?"
"Oh, no. Not finding anything is not the problem." Abby gesticulated towards the multitude of boxes that occupied her lab. "Tony and McGee sent back every fingerprint, fiber, hair and tissue sample they could find. Do you know how much forensic evidence can exist on a ship that size? Too much, that's how much. And, Gibbs wants it too soon."
"In all fairness, Gibbs is under considerable pressure to discover who murdered the Fleet Admiral's son."
"Which reminds me. He wants ballistics ran on every firearm that was onboard. Do you think he knows how many firearms are kept on a navy vessel?" Abby reached for the phone.
"I think that..." Ziva managed to convey just how ill advised Abby's actions were with a well-placed hand that prevented her from completing that call. "...if there's anyone who would know the answer to that question, it is most likely Gibbs."
"And, me. I would know. Because I'm the one that has to test them all!"
"I also think that you are too stressed." Ziva dropped both hands on tense shoulders and began kneading.
"Ohh." Abby's eyes closed and her head fell back.
"You are too tight."
"Excuse me?!?"
Ziva's brow rose at the reaction. "Your upper body. You carry your stress in your shoulders."
"Yeah, well..." Abby fidgeted, reached her Caf-Pow "...I don't know where else to carry it."
"That is another thing." Ziva lifted the cup away. "Too much caffeine is not good for anybody." Ziva took an experimental sip. "Ugh. How can you drink this? It is disgusting."
"It keeps me focused," Abby swiveled her chair around.
Given that Abby was still sitting, Ziva easily eluded her reaching fingers. "No. You have already had too much. Gibbs spoils you."
Abby tried to stand, only to find the back of her chair firmly pressed against the desk and Ziva occupying the space between her open legs. She was trapped, her Caf-Pow out of reach.
A burst of frustration overwhelmed Abby. "You suck, you know that?"
"Yes." Ziva knelt down until they were eye-to-eye. "And lick. And bite. I'm very good at it."
Abby groaned.
Ziva brought her lips to within an inch of Abby's. "I will be happy to demonstrate after you have completed your task," she promised, standing up and stepping away.
Swiveling around, Abby began processing the evidence with renewed motivation, all desire for Caf-Pow eradicated.