Author's Note: This is a short one-shot I wrote for the Comment Fic community on LiveJournal. The prompt was two titles: "Remedial Chaos Theory" and "Nothing Good Happens After 2 A.M." I've been binge-reading McAbby fics lately, and had to try my hand at one. This won't be the last, I'm sure.
Nothing Good Happens After 2 A.M.
Whenever Abby invited McGee out for a friendly night on the town, he always felt afterward that he should taken a remedial course in Chaos Theory before leaving his apartment. You practically needed a degree in Chaos Theory to keep up with her when she was really on a roll.
This particular evening had started at a club filled with dancing people, most of whom were a good decade or more younger than either of them. There she'd introduced him to some of her friends, each dressed more or less like Abby, with a varying number of tattoos to match.
They'd hit a few other clubs after that, but between the music and the alcohol, it kind of blended together.
That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy himself. He always enjoyed spending time with Abby. He liked being around her. He even liked the chaos. No, he especially liked the chaos.
It wasn't like it once was, but by now, they'd been friends for a lot longer than they'd been lovers. But he'd loved her-still loved her-because of who she was and what she enjoyed, not despite of it. He enjoyed the music and the atmosphere and dancing with Abby and sitting down to rest and shouting half-heard comments to each other.
But despite her persona and her attire, and the whispered quips from Tony when she wasn't in earshot about the possibility of her being a vampire, Abby's endurance for these kinds of evenings weren't quite what they used to be.
Typically they called for a taxi no later than 1 a.m., but occasionally they stayed out later. And McGee knew from experience, nothing good happened after 2 a.m.
And tonight-this morning-was no exception. Abby had been talked into doing shots at the third (fourth?) club, and while he joined in the first couple of rounds, he'd quietly bowed out of the rest to ensure one of them was coherent enough to call the taxi.
And now, she was downright giggly as he struggled to keep her upright while roaming through her black purse for her apartment key. Feeling a little guilty about going through her purse, he finally found the keys and opened the door, nearly losing hold of Abby in the process. He caught her in time, which elicited more giggles from his drunken friend.
"Good catch, Agent McGee," Abby slurred. "You're my hero." She was beyond the point of keeping her head steady, and looked up from his shoulder sideways, her mouth pursed into an innocent smile that sent a jolt through McGee, reminding of him of the smile she would give him upon waking up the morning, their bodies wrapped together under the sheets.
The moment was broken a second later Abby announced she was going to be sick. As quickly as he could, he guided her to the bathroom. They made it just in time, and he held her hair back as she retched into the toilet. He waited until she was done and then flushed. He left her where she was sitting to wet a washcloth and brought it back down to wipe her face. She smiled at him again and this time he did his best to ignore the feelings within him.
He helped her stand and held onto her arm as they walked to the bedroom. He made her sit down on the edge of her bed and then untied her boots and pulled them off. As gently as he could, he removed the ties holding her pigtails in place. He didn't dare do anything else, and figured she could sleep in her clothes for one night.
"Good night, Abby," he said to her once she was tucked in under the sheets.
"Good night McGee," she said, her voice tired and dreamy.
He thought she was done and stood up, but she continued. "You're so good to me. I love you so much."
It was nice to hear those words from her without the addendum "like a puppy."
"I love you too," he said back to her. As drunk as she was, he was fairly confident she wouldn't remember any of this, so he added, "I always have."
Abby smiled at that. "I wish I hadn't broken up with you," she said.
McGee froze, staring back down at Abby, whose innocent eyes betrayed none of the importance of the statement she had just uttered.
"I was so scared," she said, pointing a finger to her chest to emphasize the point. "And stupid." Instead of poking herself again, she reached up and gave the back of her head a slight slap. Then she turned back to stare at McGee, who still hadn't moved an inch from his position over her. "But I'm not scared anymore. I feel so safe with you. I love you."
And then she was asleep, or as close to it as McGee could tell. It was a full minute before he could will his body to move. First he tucked her back in under the sheets, and then walked over to the bedroom door, turning out the light and leaving her to her slumber.
Still in shock, he made sure her keys were next to her purse on the kitchen counter and then locked her apartment on his way out.
McGee knew she wouldn't remember what she'd said in the morning. But he would. And he didn't know what he was going to do about it yet, but for now, knowing she had said it-alcohol or no alcohol-was good enough for him.
-o-o-o-o-o-
It was nearly noon when his cell phone rang, displaying her name. He answered and she thanked him for getting her home, her voice sounding groggy and more than a little hungover.
"Please tell me I didn't do or say anything completely embarrassing," she said.
"Nothing that I can remember," McGee answered.