Gibbs knocked briefly at the door and when he received no answer, dug in his pocket for his key. He tried the door and found he didn't need the key. Abby had forgotten to lock the door again. He'd have to have a word with her. He stepped in cautiously and was immediately surrounded by a raucous banging and clanging coming from the direction of the twins' room. "Abs," he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the din.
"In here," she called from the direction of the kitchen.
He found her in the small laundry area off the kitchen, a laundry basket filled with clean towels balanced on her hip. He dropped a kiss on her cheek. "The door was open," he told her, leveling her with a firm look.
Abby sighed, setting the basket on the counter and pulling a towel out to fold. "You never lock your door," she said. "What's with this obsession you have with me locking mine?"
"I'm a Marine," he said bluntly. "You're not." He snagged a towel and folded it, ignoring Abby's look of surprise.
"I'm not helpless, either," she muttered. "Besides, it's the middle of the day in my own house. We're perfectly safe."
"Mikel Mawher, Chip, Ginger's weasel client," Gibbs said, ticking the names off on his fingers.
"That wasn't my fault," Abby huffed.
"No, it wasn't," Gibbs agreed, "but it is reason enough to lock the door." He caught her eye and held it. "Lock the damn door, Abigail." Abby's shoulders dropped, and he saw her acquiescence even before she spoke.
"Yes, sir," she said quietly. She sat down the laundry she was folding, stepped around him and went to lock the door.
He dropped a kiss on her head as she returned, but before he could speak the racket from the twins' room redoubled and a piercing screech split the air.
"What the hell was that?" Gibbs demanded, wincing.
"The girls' Christmas presents from Uncle Tony," Abby said drily as their elderly German Shepherd, Jethro, picked up the chorus and started howling along. "His team is working on Christmas so he brought their gifts by yesterday."
"Musical Instruments?" Gibbs guessed.
Abby nodded, looking grim. "Leigh got drums, and Katie got a recorder."
Gibbs grinned. That explained the racket.
"It's not funny," Abby groused. "Who gives musical instruments to five-year-olds? They're not old enough to play. All they can do is drive me crazy. I'm going to kill him."
Gibbs chuckled. "Don't say things like that out loud, Abs. Some damn lawyer can use it to prove premeditation."
"I know," Abby replied. "That's what Tim said too, but he's covered by spousal privilege, and you'd never tell. Besides, I'm one of the few people on the planet who can kill him and—"
"Leave no forensic evidence," Gibbs finished. He turned in the direction of the twins' room. "I'll go say hello and see if I can distract them." Another ear piercing squeal cut him off. He winced, shaking his head. "Let me know if you need help to bury the body."