Girls with Glasses
by channelD
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written: as an NFA Hangman prize. The winner requested a McAbby story.
rating: K plus
pairing: McAbby
theme: AU. What if the Abby/McGee relationship had developed in a totally different way, right from the start (Sub Rosa)? What if their roles were slightly switched? Would the outcome have been different?
genre: drama
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disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.
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"Is he cute?" Abby's voice sang over the phone line.
"Is who cute?" Tony was startled by the interruption in his perusal of a magazine he'd found. He was only waiting for Abby to come up with test results, and maybe they could move on to something more exciting. Anything would be more exciting than being stuck in this tiny office in Norfolk with this so-very-green agent.
"Agent McGee," Abby said in a soft reprimand. You could almost see the smile in her voice over the phone. "Is he cute? He sounds cute."
In astonishment Tony glanced at the geeky young Agent McGee sitting a few feet away, doing indescribable geek things on the computer. "He's not your type," Tony hissed into the phone.
"And how are you so sure you know what my type is, Tony?" she shot back saucily. "Never mind. I'll call you when I have results."
- - - - -
It wasn't part of her tasks with this case, and therefore not precisely a sanctioned action, but Abby couldn't resist. On one of her lab computers, she pulled up the bare-bones personnel record of Special Agent McGee that anyone in the agency could access; the record without all the private stuff. There. Special Agent Andrew McGee, age 51, hair: silver, based: Rota, Spain…that can't be him! She clicked the mouse. Special Agent Josephine McGee, age 35, based…whoops; wrong gender. Click…Special Agent Timothy McGee…That must be him! Yes, based Norfolk, Virginia. Hair, brown; Eyes, green; Lips, luscious…
She blinked. I didn't just read that last bit, did I? No matter, her heart was reading faster than her eyes could. Now, how can I get to Norfolk? Scratch that. How can I get him to Washington? And what will I do when he's here to impress him?
Gibbs didn't go on about much of anything, but she knew he appreciated courage and self-sacrifice. Was there something she could do along those lines?
Again she grilled Tony about McGee. "Did he tell you about his likes, his dislikes?" she nudged him on Thursday.
"Now why would I care what his interests are? Other than both of us being of the male persuasion, he and I have nothing in common."
"You must have talked about something!! Come on, Tony; tell me!!"
He looked at her, at arm's length. "Why are you so infatuated with a guy you've never met?"
"I don't know," she said, sniffling. "It's just a hunch. A hunch that we could really hit it off. He's a geek?"
"Classic geek. An MIT grad."
"So you do know something about him!"
Tony rolled his eyes. "We mentioned where we went to college. Big deal. And give it up, Abbs. Guys like McGee always make passes at girls with glasses. You're too cute for him."
She looked stunned, and walked out stiffly, still looking that way. In the ladies' room, she looked at her reflection in the mirror for many long minutes before returning to her lab. There she got online, and booked an appointment.
- - - - -
A tiny nudge on her part the next afternoon had convinced the non-plused green agent to drive from Norfolk to Washington to hand-deliver his report the next morning, Friday. Well, maybe she'd fudged the truth just a little when she'd said it would be "better" for him to hand-deliver it rather than send it by courier. The distance was almost 200 miles—Oh, Abby; you must be in love. In lust. In something deep. You haven't even met the man! Still, it was a Friday, and he'd said he'd come; he wouldn't mind a weekend in Washington. The weather promised to be good.
Abby slipped out of NCIS on morning break Friday, ran up 8hth Street, and picked up her order. "Perfect," she said, looking at it at the shop counter.
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In the ladies' room back at NCIS, she made the switch. I said I'd never go back to this…I only do it for court…but I guess I don't look so bad. She fidgeted in her lab, getting nothing useful done, until quarter of twelve when she went up to the squad room, knowing he'd be there soon.
Kate and Tony were conferring on something at Kate's desk—by Kate's expression, it wasn't work-related, and probably a little off-color on Tony's part. In other times, Abby would have horned in to get the joke. Today, though, she was someone different.
Looking up when the elevator dinged, signaling her arrival, Tony gaped and then nudged Kate's arm. They stared at her but didn't say anything as she leaned on a vacant desk. She gave them a nervous smile. Gibbs came around the corner from somewhere, probably the coffee stand, and glanced at her, did a double take, then pretended he hadn't. "DiNozzo! Need your report on Norfolk."
"Uh, just finishing it up, boss." Tony slunk back to his desk, with one last glance at Abby.
She smiled at him again, while afraid she might cry from the tension. And if she cried, her new glasses, her chic, 288 dollar designer glasses with the tiny black rims and the bits of rhinestones at the edges, might steam up. And if they didn't look right, she would have wasted her time and her money removing her contact lenses. Guys like McGee always make passes at girls with glasses, Tony had claimed.
It wasn't until the elevator door opened a moment later and the tall man in the bland suit and blander tie stepped out that Abby's breath seized. Something on her face must have given her away, for she saw Tony suddenly raise his eyebrows knowingly and then wink at Kate.
"Agent McGee? What are you doing here?" asked Gibbs.
"Delivering my report, Agent Gibbs, sir."
Gibbs glanced at it, up at McGee, and back at the report, as if it were not surprising that an agent would plan a 400-mile round trip to deliver same. "And?"
"And, uh, I just took the day off, and…" His eyes finally found her. "Are you Abby?" he smiled tentatively.
"Yes!" she squeaked, and then found her normal voice. "Agent McGee? It's…nice to meet you." She extended her hand.
He shook it, and returned the pleasantries. "You look…nice," he said. "Nice glasses. And, uh, is that a tattoo? Nice."
She was thrilled, though she confined herself to a smile. She'd hoped her tats wouldn't turn him off, like they did some guys. Evidently, the glasses were a hit.
What can I do; what can I say to impress him? I don't even know if he has a particular special agent talent! He's probably a lady killer and all-around charmer. "Have you…had lunch? There's a great little place up on 9th Avenue; I don't know if you like Thai…"
"I love Thai," he said, smiling. "Are you free now?"
A look from Gibbs said 'no', but she only grinned and said, "Let me grab my coat." As she ran for the elevator, she thought she might have heard McGee say to Tony, "She's…not quite what I expected…"
"She's never what we expect," Tony said. "But we love her."
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And so a relationship began. In the months before Gibbs had Tim reassigned to Washington, Abby racked up a lot of phone hours with Tim, and flooded the 'net with emails as well. When he said Gibbs had picked him up for his team, she yelped so loudly Ducky came 'round from Autopsy to see if she was okay.
Things should have been wonderful from there, and they were, for a time. Seeing him every day was bliss. Their dates soon became frequent and she was pleased to see that they had a lot of common interests: science and technology, the two principle ones. Sure, he didn't care for the loud music she played, and seemed more button-down to her exuberant nature, but they loved each other's quick minds and playful spirits.
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She worried when he went out on assignment. She'd always worried about the agents, but she felt a bond, a string connecting her to Tim. On one end of the string was her heart; on the other end, his brown tweed suit with the belt and the NCIS badge. She'd sit in her lab, figuratively biting her nails until he returned safely. If the team happened to be out very, very late, she'd go home and cry until he called her, saying the assignment was over and they were all safe.
This only made her want to wrap him closer, if she only could. She started to yearn for some hint on his part that he felt the same way. She'd search his face, his eyes when they were together, until he would laugh and ask, "What?" But she wouldn't tell him. She wasn't courageous enough to do that yet.
Then one day it came out, while they sat on a bench at the National Mall, enjoying the sunshine. "Tim—Timmy—Tim, I need to know where this is going."
"What's that?" he asked, watching a couple of kids play.
"This. Our relationship. I want more, Tim."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "It's not even dark, and we're not at either of our apartments. Don't you think people would be scandalized here?"
"Not that, silly! I just would like…a commitment. We should talk about moving in together."
She felt the air chill around him, and regretted with all her heart having said anything. No! No! Don't break it off! Please! Give me another chance!!
"Abby, I—I like you a lot. A whole lot. But—"
"—you want to break up with me." Her face was in her hands now, and try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing.
"No. No! I just—I don't know if I'm ready for this. I'd hate to get into something, Abby, and find out we're not compatible. I've seen a lot of couples split up; and often it's very, very ugly. I don't want to go through that pain. And I love you too much to want you to go through it, either."
She bounced a little. "You said 'love'! You said 'love'! Does that mean you really love me, even just a little bit?"
He smiled, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a tissue. "More than a little bit, I'd say. And I don't want anything to ruin that. I want to make it better. Slowly."
- - - - -
And so here she sat, a year later, in her lab, waiting once more for the team to come back. Tim had called her to say they were on their way. She'd started up to wait in the squad room, as she sometimes did, prepared to say (if anyone asked) that she might as well be there to take from them whatever evidence they'd bagged for her. But then she thought, and sat back down on her lab stool.
It was disturbing that a cute little strawberry blonde was now working in Intel, and Abby had seen Tim look the blonde's way once or twice. Don't invite Jealousy into your life, one of her nuns had once said to her. It'll make itself at home in your parlor and you'll find it hard to get rid of. But still Tim had moved no closer to making a commitment.
Maybe it's time to cut my losses and move on… The thought was like a dagger plunged into her chest. Fleetingly she entertained notions of putting herself in peril—well-chosen peril, that is, so Tim could rescue her—and then dismissed this as foolish girly dreams. Is she put herself in danger, she'd likely die. And she was not feeling suicidal; she just wanted the hurt to stop.
In her lab she reached into a drawer and pulled out the case with the contact lenses that she hadn't worn in well over a year. After cleaning the lenses, she went into the lower level ladies room and took off the glasses she'd once adored, the ones she'd worn to get him to make a pass at her, and carefully put them in their glasses case. Then she placed the contacts over her eyes, seeing her eyes turn a little more green with the contacts' tint. Now she was the same Abby she'd been before she'd ever heard of Special Agent Timothy McGee. The same, except for the broken heart.
"Abby? I have evidence for you," came Tim's voice from the elevator area.
She struggled to compose her face before turning around. It took longer than she thought, and he had reached her side by then. His eyes, those handsome grass-green eyes, were suddenly in her face. "Abby, is something wrong? You look like you've been crying. And where are your glasses?"
"I put them away," she said, stubbornly holding further tears at the gates. "I've got contacts in."
"They're nice," he said. "I know a lot of people like contacts."
"Yes," she said, grabbing a tissue, "but you prefer girls in glasses."
He looked puzzled. "What makes you say that? That sounds like something the new agent, Ziva, might say."
"No, no. Tony told me long ago…just before you and I met…that geeks like you want your girls to be wearing glasses. So I—well—I switched to glasses before our first meeting."
"I know. I just never knew why."
"You knew??"
"Well, I'd asked Tony and Kate a little about you. And I pulled up your file photo. No glasses there. The team said you wore contacts, and they didn't know why you'd suddenly gone back to glasses. Although now that I think about it, Tony did snicker a little as he said it."
"I'll kill him!"
"You did it for me? Bought glasses, and wore them all the time, because you hoped I'd like them?"
"Them, and me," she said her voice barely a whisper.
He grinned, shook his head, and put his hands in his pockets. "That's amazing. I—I'm a shy guy who's had darn few dates in his lifetime, and never had a woman who has tried this hard to win me! I can't believe it!"
"Really?" She leaned in close to him, and took his hands as he freed them from his pockets."
"Really. Abby, I don't care whether you wear contacts or glasses. You're so very pretty either way."
"Why—well—thank you, Timmy!"
"I feel I should be thanking you," he grinned again, and then looked shy. "Maybe—are you still interested in a commit—"
Her answer was a sudden, deep kiss. So nice, with glasses on or not.
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