McGee nearly spit the broccoli spear that he'd been chewing out of his mouth when she'd uttered those words. He looked at her and her eyes were wide, just like they always were when she'd made one of her discoveries. Except this time, she was dead wrong.

"Abby, I am NOT becoming DiNozzo," he stated, firm in his belief that above all else, he was nothing like the senior field agent. Tony was childish and immature on every level. He'd had one serious relationship in his life and that was because he was ordered to get into it.

"You totally are!" she argued right back. She began to pace and gesticulate to help get her point across as she often did in the lab. And it was fine in the lab, but it was not fine for her to be comparing him to Tony. "It's like…Planet of the Apes. Where Charlton Heston is all confused because the apes are the people and the people are the apes. You've become the ape McGee! You've become Tony!"

"Abby, while I will agree with you that Tony is definitely an ape, I'm not. Stop being ridiculous," he replied, taking his dish to the sink. Shockingly, he'd lost his appetite.

But Abby was not giving up on her enlightened view of her occasional partner.

"How many girls have you dated this year McGee?"

"Abby it's only February." He argued, shaking his head and giving her the look he always gave her when he needed her to relax. He was hoping that she would drop her question or at least rephrase it. She did not. In fact, the revelation that it was only two months into 2009, only fueled the fire more.

"Since January 1st, Timothy. How many girls?" she asked again.

He sighed. He could argue with her that she was being crazy, but he knew he'd end up losing the battle and answering the question anyway. He always did. No matter what had changed in his life, she remained a constant and he could never say no to her. He would always give in.

"Ok firstly, I don't date 'girls' I date women. And secondly…eleven," he answered. "It would have been twelve but the twelfth turned out to be…Tony" he added, referencing the prank that DiNozzo had played on him just a few weeks prior.

Abby remembered the prank and she remembered her reaction. She'd head slapped Tony and told him to quit messing with McGee's emotions. She'd told him that it was about time he stopped treating McGee like a little brother. He was no longer a probie and he didn't deserve that kind of hazing. Clearly Abby didn't understand just how much of a probie McGee wasn't.

Eleven. This number shocked her, and suddenly the giant box of condoms made sense. In the past, he'd have been lucky to get half that number of dates in a year. But things had changed. He drove a Porsche. He shopped at Armani Exchange. He was a widely respected best selling novelist. And apparently the sum of those three things equaled a brand new timothy McGee. A womanizing, man whorish Timothy McGee.

In essence, she should have seen it coming. There was the cheerleader. Her bleach blonde roots should have given her away. There was a psychotic neighbor, who apparently made identity theft sexy. But the worst of all, had been the story that Ziva had recounted. The funeral girl. He'd "gotten right in there" when she was vulnerable. Abby still wanted to refuse to believe that story but his admission of dating eleven girls in a month coupled with the Costco-sized box of condoms, were revealing the magic 8 ball's answer. "All signs point to yes."

"Wow, McGee," was all she could say.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Oh come on, like you're so innocent. I noticed that once again your lab was filled with black roses," he offered, letting her know that he didn't take kindly to her disapproval. In actuality, it wasn't so much the disapproval he cared about. He was still stuck on her comparing him to Tony.

"From friends, McGee!" she exclaimed, in defense of the morbid flower collection that had populated her lab that day. "It's not my fault that my friends love me and give me flowers on Valentine's Day. Besides, at least what my friends give me doesn't require a twice a day treatment," she bit back with a smile. She was kidding. Sort of.

"Haha, very funny Abs. You wanna go wait in your car?" he threatened. He was kidding.

"You wouldn't do that!" she replied, her voice taking an upward inflection. McGee needn't ask what was coming next. He knew that she would not be directing her next comments towards him, but towards the large German Shepherd that lay at her feet. She squatted down to pet him and just as he'd thought, she talked to his beloved pet.

"He wouldn't do that, would he Jethro? He wouldn't make me walk all the way back there and wait out in the cold would he? No, he wouldn't. He may be a man-slut, but he's not that mean, is he, boy? No. No he's not."

McGee folded his arms in front of his chest and watched her. There was something about her. He could never get mad at her, even when he knew he should be. When she shanked his jacket, he wasn't angry. Well, he was pissed, but not at her. And now, as she was baby talking to his dog and insinuating that he had venereal diseases and calling him names, he still wasn't mad at her. For everything that she'd ever done to him, she was still Abby and that made up for everything.

"Ya done?" he asked her, as he willed his facial expression to show that he was not amused. He couldn't hold back the small smirk though. He was kind of amused.

Just then the sound of chimes filled the air, a sound he'd come to recognize as her cell phone. Saved by the bat-phone, he thought. She gave him a smirk, which he'd seen several times before, and disappeared off into the bedroom to answer it. He'd originally assumed it had been the on-call mechanic, but as he overheard her greeting of "Hi, Sister Rosita!" he knew he was wrong.

He began to clear her plate, and clean up the counter where they'd stood to eat dinner and he found himself smiling. It wasn't that he enjoyed everything that had transpired, but Abby had a way about her. She could bring a smile to his face in any situation, even one where she was calling him a man-slut.

Man-slut, he thought. Am not. He assured himself that for a guy his age he was moving along the right path. He was simply testing the waters. There were plenty of fish in the sea, and only one would be meant to be his catch. There was nothing wrong with casting a few lines and throwing back a couple guppies. It was natural. It was what guys did. Even Tony would agr…

Oh god, maybe she was right.

Before he had a chance to fully panic or talk himself down from the ledge, she reappeared, cell phone in hand. His mind had already started to sift through anything he'd said to a woman within the past month that could possibly qualify as Tony-esque so he missed what she said the first time.

"McGee!"

"Huh? Sorry Abs, what'd ya say?" he asked, trying to rid himself of the sickening feeling that anything DiNozzo-ish might have had passed his lips. He felt like his mind needed a wet-wipe.

"Sister Rosita said they just closed the roads by the convent. It's really bad out," she said sighing. "I think we might need to hunker down for the night Timmy."

McGee was perplexed. They'd walked in the storm and it hadn't been that bad. Roads were still open when they'd been walking, and though the cars that had been traveling on them had been few and far between, they'd still been driving. The snow had been coming down harder as their destination had become closer, but there still had been cars on the road. Or maybe they'd just been sand trucks…

"It can't be that bad," McGee said, walking towards his bedroom. Abby followed suit and stood beside him as he flicked on the large flat screen tv that hung on his wall. He was about to change put on the weather channel when he saw that the local channel was doing a live report. The words "Nor Easter 09 Live Coverage" scrolled across the screen beneath the live feed of one of the local personalities out in what looked to be a much worse blizzard than the one that McGee and Abby encountered. McGee furrowed his brow at the TV and turned up the volume.

"Thanks Mike and Liz," the reporter, who was identified as Sarah Purcell, began. Large chunks of snow and sleet whipped around her. "We're coming to you live right now from right downstairs on the street corner of the studios. Now normally in weather such as this, we'll usually be on location somewhere and the reason why we're not, if you can see behind me at all, is because the local roads have been completely closed. The only vehicles allowed access are emergency personnel, fire trucks, ambulances and of course, the plowers and the sanders, who certainly aren't going to be having an easy night."

"Definitely not," remarked Liz Santiago, one of the lead anchors. "Does the state have enough resources to handle this type of weather emergency?" she asked.

Her answer was almost inaudible as the strong winds whipped around her, causing massive static on the large microphone she held. McGee retreated to his bedroom window to see if the view from it matched the one that was being displayed on the large plasma screen. It did.

"Well, all available sand trucks and plowers are out and they will continue to be on duty throughout the night, as the storm continues. The governor has officially declared this a state of emergency and the national weather service is telling people to stay indoors and to not attempt to travel. Several roads have already been closed, and many more will be closed in the coming hours."

As Purcell continued her report, Abby turned to McGee with a smile on her face.

"Where do you keep the popcorn Timmy?" she asked. "Looks like we're having a slumber party."

She quickly retreated on her way out of the bedroom, leaving him with a look on his face that he could often associate with her: one of utter confusion. Remote still in hand, he shook his head, following her out of the bedroom.

"You can't possibly be hungry…" he started and the TV continued to play to an empty room. Abby was too busy rummaging through cabinets and he was too busy trying to get her to stop, that neither one heard the comments made by the anchors that were safe and warm inside their downtown studio.

"Apparently, a lot of people will be "staying in" this Valentine's Day," Mike Roberts said, shuffling his papers.

"They will indeed, but you know that statistically, 9 months after a major blizzard, there's usually a baby boom," Liz replied smiling. "And with this being Valentine's Day, this could very well be the biggest blizzard baby boom yet."

Mike just laughed. "Well have more on that in…when…November?" Liz nodded. "But in the meantime, stay tuned to News 4 for more developing updates on NorEaster '09"


A/N: Don't worry guys. The man slut will redeem himself :)