The death metal music which met Tim the moment he stepped off the elevator was a surprise, though it didn't indicate to him that the forensic scientist with whom he had a lunch date was any different from your average lab geek. When he rounded through the door frame, though, he stopped in his tracks, slack-jawed. He suddenly understood what Tony had been talking about.
"Abby?" he asked uncertainly. The woman in the lab had her back to him, but he could see the red and black plaid skirt that fell no lower than her mid-thigh, as well as her knee-high black leather, platform boots which were adorned with red flames along them. The spider web tattoo which encompassed the majority of the left side of her neck wasn't quite so shocking compared to the rest of her ensemble.
The woman turned around when he spoke. Her black baby tee read "Normal People Scare Me!" in blood red letters. Her face was pale white – he couldn't tell if it was natural or make-up – and her eyes and lips were lined with black. This was not the kind of person you expected to see working for a federal agency.
"McGee?" she asked with a flirtatious grin. She leaned back against the desk behind her and slowly crossed her legs at the ankles. Tim was uncomfortably aware of her bare thighs brushing together. "You're about five minutes early."
He opened his mouth to reply, but found himself momentarily speechless as he looked the lab tech up and down, drinking in her entire Goth ensemble. "I…uh…I wanted to get here early, just in case," he stammered out. "I guess it's the Boy Scout in me."
Abby laughed when she saw the effect she was having on the young agent. It wasn't a malicious laugh like the ones he'd heard from the beautiful girls he'd yearned after in high school; this laugh was playful and genuine and it put him at ease.
"I don't think I've ever been on a date with a Boy Scout."
"I don't think I've ever been on a date with a Goth," he replied, earning another laugh.
"Touché!"
Abby grabbed a black coat and slipped it over her body. "So where are we going?" she asked as she buttoned up.
Ever the gentleman, Tim stepped to the side and held the door open for her. "Well, I don't know the area as much as you do," he pointed out, "so I thought you could pick a place. But it'll be my treat, of course," he added.
"That isn't necessary, McGee."
"I insist, Abby. I mean, I am the…well…"
She grinned. "The 'man'?" she supplied. "I take it you're still living in the 1940's."
"No," he protested. "I just think it's proper that the man be the one to pay."
"Timmy," Abby chided with a smirk as she pushed the button for the elevator, "I never said that living in the 1940's was a bad thing!"
He ducked his head down to hide the fact that he was blushing. Abby was certainly…different.
"So, uh, tell me about yourself," Tim said. He and Abby were seated at a small table in a nearby café with sandwiches and sodas before them.
"What do you want to know?"
"Are you from around here?"
"Well, yeah," she said matter-of-factly before taking a large gulp of her drink. "How else could I get to work everyday? But I didn't grow up here. I grew up in Louisiana."
"New Orleans?"
"Yeah. Well, Jefferson Parish, if you want to be technical, but that's considered part of the 'greater New Orleans area,'" she explained, complete with air quotes. "You?"
"Massachusetts, just outside of Boston," he said.
Abby grinned and leaned in to him as though she were going to tell him a secret. "I heard from an unnamed source that you were educated at both MIT and Johns Hopkins," she commented in a low tone. "True or false?"
"True," he assured her with a modest blush.
"Wow," she said, her eyebrows raised. "I thought Tony was pulling my chain."
"Tony? I thought it was an unnamed source."
"He was…until I told you his name."
"So what else did he tell you about me?"
"Well, he said you wouldn't be my type," she said pensively. She was twirling one of her pigtails around her finger as she looked Tim over. "I don't know why, though. You're totally my type." Her comment had no sarcasm or disingenuousness to it; it was straight forward and honest, something that stroked Tim's tender ego.
"He told me the same thing about you."
"Did he now?" she asked with a slight smirk. "If you work with him long enough, you'll learn that Tony doesn't know nearly as much as he thinks he does."
Beneath the table, Tim felt the toe of Abby's thick platform boot brush gently against his leg. He couldn't tell if it was an intentional action or merely an accident. Her face revealed nothing.
"How did someone like you end up with NCIS?" he asked, still a bit flustered by the possible "footsie" which had just happened under the table. The moment after he said it, though, he winced, realizing how it had sounded.
"Someone like me? You mean someone who wears a lot of black and listens to death metal?"
"Uh, well…yeah."
"What? Because I have tats and spiked dog collars I should work at a tattoo parlor or Hot Topic or something?" she asked, her mouth a bit tight.
"That's not what I meant!" he said, trying to keep from making a scene. "I just meant that you're not what someone normally expects in a lab geek."
"And does that upset you? Are you disappointed in what you found? Were you hoping for some eighty-year-old bald guy?"
"No!" he said firmly. "I'm glad you're…you. I was just wondering how you got here."
She sat back considering the question. While Abby wasn't as angry as she had been seconds before, she also hadn't returned quite to her playful self just yet. When she looked back up at him, she shrugged. "How did you get here?"
"Me?" he asked, slightly taken aback.
"From what I've heard, you're a computer geek whose degrees are geared to science. So why a field agent?"
"Well…" he trailed off, at a loss for words. "I just wanted to do it."
Her lips twitched up into a smile. "Then you've just answered your own question."
He took in her response before giving her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I insulted you…I was just curious."
"It's okay, Timmy. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. It ain't easy being Goth."
"It's no easier being geek," he countered. "At least yours was a choice; I kind of just fell into mine."
"Aren't you happy with what you're doing?"
"Well, yeah…but I guess I kind of wish I was more…normal."
"And what is 'normal'?" Abby asked.
Tim shrugged. "You know…like Tony is."
"Tony?" She laughed, leaving Tim wondering what was so funny. "Timmy, let me tell you a little something about Tony. He may seem like he's completely cool and confident, but he's as insecure as anyone. He constantly needs Gibbs' approval. Getting to boss around someone who is lower on the totem pole – such as yourself – boosts his ego and can make him insufferable at times. So he's no more normal than you or I."
"Insecure or not, he's much more the kind of guy who people think of as your typical all-American guy."
"Ugh," she groaned, shaking her head, "I hate that word, 'all-American.' Like not being a perky, blonde cheerleader with big boobs makes me any less an American."
"My point is that he's the kind of guy girls dream about and I'm not."
"Depends on the girl," Abby said cryptically. Her eyes twinkled with laughter, drawing the bashful Tim in further.
They paused outside doors to NCIS headquarters, having to say their good-byes for the day. After the small awkward bump in conversation, the lunch date had been very enjoyable. Tim wasn't sure how Abby felt, but he was hoping for another date. He hadn't quite worked up the courage to ask for one, though.
"Thank you for lunch," she said.
"You're welcome. I hope you enjoyed it…and me."
"Of course I did!" she said, enveloping him in a hug. Tim hadn't expected the sudden display of affection, and he stood still as her arms around him grew tighter.
"Uh…Abby?" he said hesitantly. "Would you want to…uh…you know…"
His stammering was interrupted by a peck on his lips. Abby pulled away, still holding his face in her hands. She grinned at his wide-eyed expression, flattered that even a quick peck from her could have such an overwhelming effect on him. "Timmy, I would love to go on another date."
As he walked back to his car, Tim had the idea that Abby was a special girl, in more ways than one. He hoped this would be the start of something very special.