for infiniteviking: Abby Sciuto
Gibbs and Ducky are the ones who get it.
For example, McGee gave her candy skulls for Hallowe'en, and was treated to a lecture on customs associated with the Day of the Dead.
Kate used to get her Emily pencils.
Tony thinks she listens to hardcore German goth industrial (she doesn't).
Ziva worries it's just morbid fascination with death, and walking McGee's dog at the cemetery is disrespectful.
But Ducky started the tradition of black roses, because he understands the beauty of living and dead things. While Gibbs understands how the skull-and-crossbones anklets with black ribbons make her feel pretty.
for medie: Pike
When Pike first sets foot in his quarters aboard Starbase 12, his cases have already been delivered from the cargo bay. Uniforms hang in the closet, his cartons of books sit next to low shelves. The container marked "fragile" sits unopened beneath the row of windows. He removes the contents carefully. The bottle is dusty--it sat for years on the mantle at his parents' house, and he forgot to dust it before packing. The wooden sloop-of-war inside the bottle is pristine, USS Constellation carved into the plaque at its base. When he sets it on his desk, he's home.
for sinkwriter: Timothy McGee
McGee has a routine. When he gets home, he locks his sidearm in its box before grabbing Jethro's leash. The German shepherd dog dances with anticipation as McGee hooks the lead to his collar. He calls Sarah so she can tell him about her day as Jethro pulls him along, tongue lolling. He feeds Jethro, then himself, and writes for two hours. Television, then bed, the dog curled on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Sometimes he goes days--even weeks--without seeing the look on Kate's face beneath the neat round hole when he closes his eyes.
Edison and Theora
He's only been in her bed once, and that was the day they met. He'd woke groggy, bone-weary, gash across his forehead itching, and safe. She'd been relieved, amused, and annoyed. He'd never been in her bed since, but he thinks about it every once in a while as she guides him from place to place, his perfectly controlled Control. She commands, and he follows. Trust, friendship, and something else they don't talk about behind their actions. He wonders if he'd follow her voice right back to the mountain of pillows and scattered soft toys without hesitation, his actions automatic.
Eleven years of birthday dinners and he's never anything but a perfect gentleman as he escorts her from his car to her door.
She remembers how, after way too much sambuca one year she'd given him a liquorice-flavoured kiss. It hadn't been a quick peck. Full on arms around his neck, breasts pressed up against his chest, mapping the inside of his mouth with her tongue good-night kiss.
His hands had stayed at his sides, and he'd only smiled at her fondly when she'd stepped back.
"Night, Abbs," he'd said.
She didn't drink sambuca anymore.
But he does.
for thistlerose: Stormer
Sometimes she wakes up with a tune. She'll beat out the time on the wall of her shower, tapping her foot as she sips her coffee, and by the time she pulls into her space at Stinger Sound she's got the opening bars, the chorus, and has almost nailed the verses.
Those are the good days.
Bad days she'll spend in the basement with her piano, crumpled pages overflowing the basket, uncooperative chords mocking her. She'll cry and scream and keep hammering away at it until she's got a melody.
But every day is better than waiting tables back home.
for boosette: Pike/Number One
In command decisions he carefully weighs opinions, and when appropriate, follows her advice. She has no problems following his orders. It's part of what makes them an efficient team. They can handle life-threatening situations without raised voices, yet she's nearly brought to tears of frustration trying to schedule their first leave together.
As a captain, he's excellent. As a lover, he's amazing. As a man, he's infuriating. Afterwards, he makes it up to her in creative ways. But it never gets any easier. They push each other's buttons in ways no-one else can.
Still, she decides he's worth it.
for syredronning: Pike/Chapel
He's always had a weakness for blondes.
It's hard to tell from his vantage point--flat on his back on the biobed--but she looks tall. The uniform does little to disguise her slim hips and pert breasts. As Enterprise limps home on impulse power, he has plenty of time to imagine what she looks like under that uniform. Considering until sixteen hours ago he was her captain, he should feel ashamed.
He listens to her give orders--crisp, efficient, in charge--and he likes the sound of her voice. He's not sure why.
He falls asleep smiling.
for corellianjedi: Hodgins/Abby
When Marty told Jack Hodgins that Abby Sciuto was hot, what he'd failed to mention was that she was hot specifically in a January, 1955 Playboy centrefold kind of way.
It wasn't just the perfect bangs, black curls, red lips, and curves. It was more than the black dress that was sexy yet modest, chunky mary-janes with enough of a heel that Jack felt himself willing himself to be taller in a way he hadn't since he first realised he had a thing for Angela.
But it was the stockings with the seams up the back that got to him.
for mechturtle: Uhura
Whenever they are on leave, she takes taxis instead of just beaming down to their destination. She likes to talk to the hacks in their native languages, on those brief trips from wherever they are staying.
She'll go for days without speaking Standard except on the ship, and comes back with her tricorder loaded with cheap tourist phrasebooks even though she complains (often) they're inaccurate and a poor substitute for total immersion.
Spock watches her spend her free time updating the Translator matrices with amusement at first, then gratitude as it becomes clear how much Enterprise benefits from her obsession.
for possibly_thrice: Pike/Gaila
The Academy ballroom can accommodate a thousand, which is just enough for the senior officers from Enterprise, Yorktown, and Intrepid plus the Admiralty, and assorted partners, to be that touch too warm.
The food is rubber chicken, but the band's decent.
Commander Scott has had Gaila on his arm for most of the night, leaving a clutch of officers by the bar alternately grousing and awe-struck.
The Yorktown's captain isn't surprised when Gaila cuts in to steal a dance from the Admiral.
Her lips graze his ear as she whispers "Glad to see you're not drinking alone anymore."
for thepouncer: Gibbs
He buys coffee once a month from a grocery an hour's drive away. It's a run-down looking place, with linolium floors that while clean are cracked and worn. The owners are Lebanese and the grandfather doesn't speak English.
One wall is taken up with containers of different roasts of bean, and a noisy grinder. The French roast beans are dark and gleaming as the daughter with henna'd hair and a wide smile weighs them on a metal scale.
She always tries to make small talk, and he almost never says a word.
She thinks he takes his coffee buying seriously.