"I'm not that sure about this, Abby."
"Don't be such a baby, Tim! You weren't complaining last time."
"That was before I knew this was a coffin! I respect that you like to sleep in this, but I don't think I could…you know…perform when I'm in this thing."
"You haven't let me down yet, Timmy."
"…Really?"
"Yes, really! You don't have to worry about performing with me. I'm always satisfied."
"Oh, wow, Abbs…that's really flatter – hey, wait! You're just trying to distract me from the issue at hand!"
"Darn! I almost got your mind off of it, too!"
"Abby, can't we just have sex in a bed like normal couples?"
"Tim, what about me says 'normal'?"
"…"
"My point exactly. Now are we going to do this, or should we just call it a night?"
"Ugh! Fine! But we're keeping the lid open!"
"Tim! Where is your sense of adventure?"
"Abby, I didn't protest when you wanted to bring in the handcuffs and costumes, but I draw the line at being inside a closed coffin!"
"…I'll do that thing that makes you squeal…"
"…You swear this thing is safe?"
"The safest! Would I ever lie to you?"
"Yes!"
"Come on, we're wasting time by arguing."
"Abby, I…I, uh…ooh…ooh…"
"Heh, you like that don't you?"
"…Ooh, yes…more…please…"
"See? You wouldn't even know we were in a coffin!"
"Don't remind me! Don't talk or mention the coffin…just…keep doing that…that thing…"
"Tim…you do have a condom, right?"
"Yeah, it's right…oh…"
"What?"
"I must have left it in my jacket pocket. Here, get up so I can go get it."
"…Uh…"
"Abby, I said get up."
"I'm trying…the lid seems to be stuck…"
"WHAT?"
"Don't worry, Tim. Sometimes it latches in on itself, but I always manage to get out."
"You said this was safe!"
"I might have stretched the truth a bit."
"Oh, God…Oh, God…God, we're gonna die in here!"
"I thought you weren't claustrophobic."
"I'm not! I'm afraid of dying!"
"McGee, listen to me: We are not going to die. We're just a little…stuck…"
"Are you sure it's latched."
"I know this coffin like the back of my hand. It does this sometimes. You just have to jiggle the lid a bit and it's come unlatched."
"…You've been jiggling it and it's still stuck."
"Hm…maybe the hinges need to be greased. They were really squeaky when I was trying to close the lid. Come to think of it…I had a hard time opening this yesterday morning…"
"ABBY!"
"Stop shouting, Tim! My ear is only a couple of inches away from you. God, you're going to make me deaf. Though that might be kind of cool because then my parents and I would have more in common. Oh, and Gibbs and I wouldn't look so strange when we have our sign language conversations, because I know that Tony gets annoyed–"
"Abby, I am trying to remain calm here…See? I'm not shouting anymore…NOW GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!"
"Tim, stop shaking so much! You're not going to get the lid off by pounding against it."
"HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP! WE'RE STUCK IN HERE!"
"TIM! I don't think anyone is going to hear you."
"So we're just going to suffocate?"
"Of course not! This thing isn't airtight, so we should be fine on oxygen."
"Oh, great, we'll just starve to death."
"Are you always this pessimistic?"
"Only when I'm stuck in coffins."
"…Wait, you've been in this situation before?"
"No, Abby, I haven't! In fact, I never even dreamed that I could ever be in this situation until I met you."
"Here, let me see if I can work the hinges. They might be stuck."
"Abby...ow! You're elbow is sticking in my ribs!"
"Sorry…I can't really see you and…Tim! Your leg is tangled around me!"
"I can't really move my legs, Abby! I can barely even fit in this thing."
"Well, stop moving so much!"
"Then stop elbowing me in the side!"
"I'm trying to, McGee! It's not that easy when…is your hand where I think it is?"
"…Oh, God! I thought that was…I mean, I swear…I didn't mean…"
"Ooh…no, leave it there, Tim!"
"What?"
"Leave it!...Ooo, that feels nice."
"Abby, shouldn't we be focusing on getting out?"
"Sh! Just enjoy the moment, Timmy!"
"I'll enjoy it when we're in a bed…or on a couch…or the floor…"
"Oh, Timothy…Oh, that feels wonderful…"
"…Abby, what is your hand doing?"
"Sh…"
"Oooh…Oooh…Oh, Abby…that…that's so…nice…Oooh…"
"OH…TIM!"
"Why are you yelling?"
"NO! Leave your hand there!"
"But you said to leave it–"
"I CHANGED MY MIND!"
"Okay, okay! I'll leave it…"
"Good boy."
"I hate when you say that."
"What about when I do this?"
"…Oooooooooooooh…"
"That's what I thought."
"Wait! We can't do this!"
"Tim, I told you! Don't worry about getting out of the coffin. We can cross that bridge afterwards."
"No, Abby! I meant we can't do this because the condom is in my jacket pocket…out there."
"…LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"Abby! Calm down!"
"Tim, we need to get out of this stupid thing!"
"I thought you loved your coffin."
"I'll love it when I'm dead!"
"Okay, calm down! We just need to think about this logically."
"Yes! Logically is good."
"Okay, so either it's latched close or the hinges or stuck."
"Or both."
"…Or both. So maybe if we both push against the lid at the same time, our combined force with get it to move."
"It's worth a shot."
"Okay, on three: one…two…three!"
"…"
"…"
"That didn't work, Tim."
"I can see that, Abby."
"So what now?"
"How should I know? It's your coffin. What do you usually do when it gets stuck?"
"Um…I keep pushing against the lid until the latch falls and I can open it again."
"That's it?"
"It's not rocket science, McGee; it's a coffin."
"Well, you have to have a back up plan…you know, in case pushing against it doesn't work."
"…Oh…"
"What? What 'oh'?"
"…You're gonna laugh…"
"I'd like to laugh right now, Abbs."
"But you might be a little mad…"
"…That's okay, so long as there will be a part where I laugh…and we get out of here."
"Well, the last time it got stuck I decided to have one of the panels right here removed so that I can slip my hand out and unlatch the top if I needed."
"…So we could have gotten the lid off the moment it got latched?"
"Pretty much."
"…I don't see how I'm supposed to laugh about this, Abbs."
"I might have exaggerated the laughing part. But the great news is we can get out of here and you can get the condom and come back."
"No, Abby! We can get out of her and find a more proper place for this!"
"We'll discuss it. First, let me get the latch off…Oh…"
"Abby, I don't like hearing you say 'oh.'"
"Well, the latch isn't hooked."
"How is that possible? If it's not hooked we'd be able to lift the lid…unless…"
"Yep,"
"…So what back-up plan do you have for rusty hinges?"
"Uh, greasing them."
"So…where's the grease?"
"...In the living room."
"You mean we're stuck?"
"For now."
"…Abby, can you promise me something?"
"Sure, Timmy."
"When I die, make sure I'm cremated."
The end!