Author's Note: First NCIS fic. I tried hard to represent the characters well - I noticed that Abs and McGee say each others' names a lot, so I did so as well :B I hope it doesn't suck too hard! Enjoy.

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Abby sighed as she hung up the phone with her now-ex-boyfriend. Jaime had seemed like such a great guy, and she had truly liked him. A tattoo artist with a wild streak. Their first date had been to a graveyard rave. He was charming. And now he was with some other girl from the tattoo shop, some girl that Abby felt necessary to assume a hussy.

Biting her lip, Abby looked around at her machines. There was no work to be done, nothing to distract her mind from yet another relationship gone cold, and so Abby jumped up, determined not to sink into one of her rare sad moments. She headed, with a forced spring in her step, upstairs.

"Lunch, McGee?" Abby stood in front of her best friend's desk, watching as he bounced up from sleep, instinctively jumping to type something on his computer before realizing what was happening. He looked quizzically up at Abby.

"What time is it?"

"Noon-o-clock, Tim," Abby smirked, giving him a look that clearly begged for the reason he was so tired.

Dryly, McGee responded to her look, "It's not what you think, Abs. Jethro kept me up all night. I think one of my neighbors had drugs."

Abby's eyes widened proudly at the dog's achievement. "What a good boy! See how well trained he is?"

McGee frowned at Abby, but let the subject drop. He couldn't be mad at her for conning him into a drug-sniffing dog – he couldn't be mad at her for anything. His mind traced back to the original request of lunch. "Where do you want to eat, Abs?"

"Don't care. Somewhere with a Caff-Pow."

Things had passed in a comfortable silence between them as McGee drove them to Mama's Grill. They now sat across from each other, Abby plucking slowly at a salad while McGee waited for his soup. Idly, Abby glanced up at him before looking down into her bowl. "Jaime broke things off today."

McGee's eyebrows shot up, and a stutter came from his throat. "I. . . Uh, wow, Abs. . . I thought things were going well?"

"Yeah, so did I until he decided Sara Michelle, or whatever that tramp's name is, was a better match," she glared out at her friend before taking a breath. "Sorry." She looked back down into her salad, letting out a little huff. All she could think about was her absolute and utter failure at anything relationship-related. The only boyfriend that didn't turn out shallow or crazy was sitting right across from her, now a long-lost cause. The one guy that was worth his weight, and she broke it off because he got too serious.

And now, six years later, here they were. Best friends. McGee had held on to his feelings for her for some time, but she had felt compelled to keep him at bay. Sure, they had slept together since their breakup when dry spells happened to coincide, but even that seemed to happen less frequently. McGee was famous, he had been rich for some time, and he had been having astounding luck at finding women who wanted to sleep with him.

And, despite Abby's prior reluctance, she had become jealous of those women. In some ways she was jealous of him, with the ability to attract sane members of the opposite sex.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her fork-wielding one, and she snapped up to face her best friend.

"Abby? Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked into his face for a long few seconds before shaking her head. "You know I don't talk about things. And don't even think about trying to pull a Gibbs on me. It won't work."

For a second, she saw a part of him want to try it. But he backed down, reaching out to grab her hand again with a smile on his face. "If you change your mind, I'm here."

Abby gave him a weak smile, and she squeezed his hand as a thank you. Conveniently, the waiter popped in just then with their meals, and the rest of their lunch was filled with another comforting silence, but there was still a nagging thought in the back of Abby's head. McGee really was the only quality, un-shallow guy she'd ever dated. And the fact that she was even thinking about it made her wonder: was she finally getting ready to settle down?

Despite this nagging thought, there was still heavy doubt. McGee was here, he was her best friend, and they had a past. But, as cliché as the thought was, Abby wondered if they had a future. She doubted she could ever find another quality guy – not at her age, with her reputation, with her way of life. But she had rejected him twice, and his romantic feelings for her were probably long gone. She was probably just the sister, the best friend. Nothing more. She had probably shattered all hope in him that things could ever work out. And now that she wanted them to, she regretted that.

If she wanted a relationship with him, she would have to do it. She knew him well enough – he wouldn't try again. If she wanted it, it was her call.