I write what I like because I like it. So if you like it too, you should review. Or you can check out my other two Tiva stories (which I think are better)!

*Not my joke, I heard it awhile ago

The only reason she was in the coffee shop was for Gibbs. She figured she would try surprising him with coffee for once, but she didn't really believe it could be done. Gibbs had some sort of six sense that had to be taken seriously. But that was besides the point. What was important here was that the girl in front of her, some sort of teenager, or maybe a sad sort of twenty-something who was still stuck in high school, was dressed head to toe in neon rainbow sparkly-nauseatingness; a tshirt with a cartoon dinosaur on it that in a tiny speech bubble said "rawr," shiny pink pants that looked like they that paper mached on, and a orange construction worker jacket. Her hair was the worst though – a rat's nest of bright purple, it was streaked and coontailed and tortured. Abby cringed at how damaged it must be. How could someone do that to their hair? It had done nothing to them! How completely selfish, bleaching it and tormenting and…

And then it dawned on Abby. This was a scenester. She had heard about them, the mystical kids who wore the neon stuff and listened to the techno music and the "happy hardcore." Abby didn't really know what that meant. Did it mean the music was about cheerful stuffy, or the people were glad they were hardcore? She shook her head. Either way it didn't really matter. She was a woman on a mission! It was time to sally forth and slay the dragon, get the coffee, and return to her castle of NCIS!

Scratch that. Cause that metaphor would make Gibbs the DID (Damsel In Distress), which he definitely was not. But it would also make her lab the dungeon and/or torture chamber, which was pretty awesome. Maybe for just this…

"Are you going to order?" The girl behind the counter tugged at her lip ring as she drawled in high voice, "Cause there are people in line."

Looking at the menu, Abby srunched her nose. What the hell was a Frappuccino? Was that even coffee? Abby wasn't a big coffee drinker – Caf-Pow had all her caffeine, thank you. "Ummm… I'll take a coffee… Yeah. Medium – "

" – you mean grande?"

Abby shook her head. "Nope. Medium, please."

"Grande is our medium size," the girl said dryly.

"Okay then," Abby smiled brightly, "Medium coffee thingy for the bossman."

The girl stared at her, expressionless. "You want it black?"

Abby grinned. "Well what other colors do you have?"* Purple hair only stared at Abby, waiting. "Oh, uh, okay. I guess, I do want black coffee then," Abby fixed, smile slowly falling off her face.

The girl pressed a few keys on the cash register. "Anything else?"

Abby bit her lip and looked at the menu. "No…" she began to shake her head, but then thought of something, "Um, maybe I could get a little bit of skim milk in the coffee?"

"Then it won't be black anymore." For someone so vividly dressed, she really did seem rather dull. And sad. And depressing.

Abby squinted her eyes a bit, staring at the menu. "Well, you don't have brown coffee, do you? So I want black coffee with a little bit of skim milk!" She put her hands down on the counter.

The girl's upper lipped curled. She pressed a few more buttons on the cash register, "One nin – "

"Wait," Abby interrupted. "I also want two more coffees. Both black. One with skim milk, one with whole. In the one with whole, I want all the sugar you have in that jar," she pointed to specify.

"Is that it?"

"No," Abby said, tilting her head, growing more and more frustrated by the moment. "I also want some tea."

"What kind?"

"The warm kind," Abby said with a smirk, happy to have finally gotten the better of the little Hello Kitty puppet standing in front of her. The girl practically snarled at her, shaking her purple head.

"Seven fifty."

Abby swung her back pack around and began digging in it for money. She found two normal dollar bills, thirteen quarters, eight dimes, twenty four nickels, and a handful of pennies.

The girl grudgingly took the money. Painstakingly slowly, she counted it out and put it in the cash register. Finally she looked up, her purple lips (which matched her hair) pursed. "You know, it's people like you that make my day miserable. You're so freaking depressing."

Abby stared at the girl, jaw near the floor. Abby? Depressing? Especially coming from this girl, this sullen, neon, zombie, day-killer! "What are you?" She finally asked, incredulous.

The girl narrowed her eyes, which were surrounded by thick, black liquid eyeliner that winged out at the edges. "What are you?" She looked Abby up and down.

Abby pursed her lips. Her outfit was perfectly fine. She wore thigh high black boots, fishnets, and a black minidress with cobweb lacing. Her hair was combed back into two equal pigtails, unlike the girl in front of her, who looked like a train wreck. Finally, she leaned across the counter, passed the tip jar and the cash register to the girl's ear. "I could kill you without leaving any forensic evidence."

"Killing is illegal," the girl said defensively, obviously a bit unnerved by Abby's threat.

Abby just laughed. "Do you even know what forensics is? Is the science that you do to catch the criminals. So without it, you wouldn't be able to catch me." She leaned back. "Plus it helps that I'm with NCIS," she sniffed.

Someone standing in line behind Abby coughed pointedly. Both girls ignored it. "What the hell is an NCIS? "

Abby scoffed. "What is NCIS? NCIS is – "

" – Naval Criminal Investigative Service," came a voice from behind them.

Abby wheeled around. "Gibbs!" she squealed and threw her arms around his neck, and then pulling back, "Wait! No! You can't be here! I'm buying you coffee! Well, I was, but then this girl keeps on trying to - "

He smiled and put an arm around her. "Come on Abs." He began to lead her towards the pick up counter, where four medium drinks waited for them. Abby picked them up and handed Gibbs his.

"Thanks, Abby," He kissed her on the cheek, and she smirked happily, thinking about her luck in having such a great boss while scenester's job probably sucked.

As they walked out the door, Abby glanced over her shoulder to see the neon girl staring daggers into her back. And even though she knew it was immature, even though she knew it was gloating, Abby couldn't help herself, she had to stick her tongue out.