Another from the crypt – my first ever McAbby – sort of. Set sometime season 2 or 3.
I need a hug
"I need a hug."
Abby's voice, soft and a little tearful, made him look up from his keyboard. She cut a forlorn silhouette in the ethereal gloom of the late night lab.
"My date crashed," she whined, stomping towards him.
"Um, I…I…I, um," he stuttered. "Don't you think Tony would be better for this. He's more of a touchy, feely sort of guy."
"McGee! I gave you a hug when YOU needed one."
"Well, um that's …a… true but I, um d…d..didn't ask for one." He held his head up in a small show of triumph.
She pouted her strikingly red lips at him. "But I really need a hug," she whimpered. "It's like, one in the morning you're the only one here."
He uttered a sigh and his shoulders drooped. Working back late had its disadvantages. Hugging a fellow co-worker at work really wasn't his thing. The others seemed to fall on top of each other, even onto him, with alarming regularity. A hand on the shoulder here, a whack on the back of the head there, but he really wasn't into that kind of thing. Only once had he almost hugged Abby but he had managed to turn that into a movement to reclaim his chair.
Besides, he was really a stickler for commitment. There was someone else now and he would never do anything to betray her trust in him. Hugging an old girlfriend…No, girlfriend wasn't the right term. Hugging someone you had slept with in a coffin and gotten a tattoo to impress, might strain that trust.
In some ways he didn't trust himself to hug Abby again. In most ways he just didn't want to put himself in any kind of ambiguous position that might give Abby any idea to pursue another on again/ off again relationship. If Abby got it into her head that he was interested in her then he shuddered to think what would become of his current interest. He was pretty sure there would be no discernable forensic evidence.
"I'm just not that good at that sort of stuff," he sighed finally.
"Well, this can be lesson one," she said determinedly. "Stand up McGee."
"Abbs," he pleaded. "Can't we just talk about it."
"No," she intoned in her best B-Grade-Indian-movie voice. "No talk, we hug now. Stand up white man."
Sighing, he pushed himself up from his swivel chair and lumbered reluctantly around the bench.
"Good, McGee, close proximity, you're a fast learner," she enthused.
"I'm really not the person you should be turning to, you know that."
"Shut up McGee and assume the position."
Reluctantly, he put his enormous arms around her tiny body. He felt as if the eyes of his workmates, in fact everyone he had ever worked with, were on him. If he got it right the first time, he could run.
"OK good. Now a little tighter," he tightened his grip. "Tighter, tighter……too tight, too tight," she gasped.
He pulled away suddenly but she grabbed his arm as he tried to flee.
"Oh no you don't: Again until you get it right."
He sighed deeply and wondered if she knew the anguish this was causing him.
"McGee," she warned.
Silently he enveloped her again. In his mind's eye he focused on his girlfriend. Hugging her was easy. He, well, had permission to hug her. This time he seemed to have a measure on the required strength.
"Good, good," Abby cooed. "Now you have to do something about the head."
"Excuse me?"
"I have my head on your shoulder. You're not hugging my head."
"What?"
"Just snuggle your head down onto mine – gently, I don't want a concussion."
He carefully laid his head on top of hers.
"OK, now close your eyes and take a deep breath."
He took a deep breath and was overpowered by a wave of her smell. Her hair, her makeup, the thousand and one unmentionable smells in her lab. It soaked through him. Memories of past times washed though his mind: good times.
"McGee, I said you can stop now."
"Oh, I…I'm sorry," he recoiled so fast he nearly backed into the bench. He felt the blood rising up his checks and was glad of the low light levels.
"Good work, McGee," she cheered, punching him playfully on the shoulder.
"Um thanks," he mumbled, heading back over to his chair. He took a sort of sideways step to re-arrange some changing geometry in his pants without using his hands. This was an effect that even the sudden surge of guilt at what he had done couldn't quell.
Abby followed at his heels like a well trained puppy, bouncing excitedly.
"So how was it for you?" she quizzed him.
"Um…fine," he answered non-committedly hoping insanely that she would let it drop and pretend it never happened.
"Fine! McGee, I want it all," she squealed swooping in on him.
"Abby, I really do have some work to do," he said irritably staring intently at the screen and thumping hard on his keyboard.
She took his chin in her leather gloved hand, turned his head and looked him straight in the eye. She was so close their noses almost touched and he could feel her harsh breaths. He was sure she smelt his fear, or saw it in his eyes. His eyes were always a dead giveaway. It was what made him such a bad liar.
"I have had a REALLY bad night," she hissed through gritted teeth, "and I need an ego boost so I ask you again, McGee, how was it for you?"
He swallowed hard and looked into her eyes. For a moment, he caught a rift from a song: "when you can see your unborn children in her eyes."
"McGee!" She pulled her hand down from his chin in exasperation and started pacing the floor in front of him.
He looked down, mortified. "I was um-ur-um just thinking," he croaked in a barley audible voice.
"What, what were you thinking!" she yelled waving her arms madly.
He looked up at briefly, thought better of it and looked down again.
"I was imagining what your babies would look like," he mumbled.
"McGee! That is sooo…," he flinched involuntarily wondering which side of the net this one was going to land, "sweet".
He exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and looked up at her.
"So what did they look like?" she pressed bounding up to his again with her expectant puppy face on.
"Well, they had little black collars with studs and tiny leather nappies," he started. "Some even had spider web tattoos."
"Some! How many were there?" she asked in horror.
"Oh, two or three."
"Good God, McGee! I am really not in the baby stage of my career."
Then she paused. "We really would never have worked out, would we?" she asked in a small voice twirling one of her ponytails.
He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. "I really like you Abby, but you're more of a..a..a free spirit and I'm, well, more of a stick –in-the-mud."
"Yeah," she whimpered. "I do get it. Somehow I always thought we'd be like growing old together. You know; we'd have some fun now but when we were old and grey and tired of all that, we'd just settle down together: just you and me. Somehow I just thought you'd wait for me."
She sniffed a little and lowered her face from him. McGee bent his head down to look up at her from below.
"You know that's not really going to happened," he said gently looking into her slightly glistening eyes.
She nodded glumly and he hunted in his pocket for a hanky. She took it and blew her nose nosily.
If he thought he felt guilty before…. Then again, he had given her the chance to choose him long ago and she fobbed him off. It was a raw pain he still felt occasionally when they were teaming up against the world on their computers. It was quite unreasonable of her to expect him to put his life on hold for her on a whim. A slight jolt of anger shot through him but it passed in the blink of an eye.
"You know what?" she said quietly moving uncomfortably back into his personal space again.
"What," he smiled gently at her.
"I think I need a hug."
This time he got it right first time. Holding her gently as a friend he felt no pangs of guilt. Unfortunately, the effect on his anatomy resumed.
"McGee," she chastised him gently as she noticed. "Maybe there is hope for you yet."
He gave her a slow smile.
She broke his grip and bounded for the door.
"Thanks, McGee," she called over her shoulder. Then she stopped at the door. "You know I once read that the good thing about a hug is that it's impossible to give one without getting one in return."
"That's profound."
"Yeah, I read it in a Garfield comic," and she was out the door.
He gave a gentle snicker and a shake of his head as he listened to her footsteps fade into the night. Then he paused to take out his wallet and look longingly at the face of the girl who would always be there for him. He was sure it was the right choice. Tomorrow night she would be back in town. Tomorrow, he would certainly NOT be working late.