waiting for first light
An NCIS oneshot
by mew-tsubaki
Note: The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. And, sometimes, you just gotta revisit an old ep to fix smthg about it. XD Read, review, and enjoy! *Note: This is set during s7e22, "Borderland." This was also a request by Tweeky on FFN, asking for McGee not to make the mistake of drinking the local water while he and Abby were in Mexico. ;)
- ^-^3
"Being invited down here certainly feels like much more than an invitation," Abby remarked as she changed into her pajamas in the middle of the tiny room Rivera had set aside for her for the forensics seminar, not expecting NCIS would've sent McGee tagging along.
McGee scoffed from the other side of the bathroom door, where he currently was changing. "Yeah. I don't think Rivera liked seeing my face when we arrived in Mexico together."
Abby quirked an eyebrow. "I meant crossing paths with Paloma Reynosa, Tim," she corrected. She paused folding her clothing long enough to straighten up and catch McGee's bashful expression when he cracked the bathroom door open and peeked around it.
"…oh."
She tried stifling her smirk. "Yeah, 'oh.'" But, just as quickly as McGee had made her smile, thoughts of Paloma Reynosa made her frown, and Abby finished tucking her things away. She picked at a loose thread by one of the skulls printed on the hem of her pajama top. "Honest, Tim?"
McGee emerged from the bathroom and set aside some of his own things. But he paused in his nighttime routine to give Abby his undivided attention. "What, Abs?"
She wrinkled her nose at the thought, but… "Paloma. How she spoke to us—to me. If it weren't for the men she arrived with, decked out with guns and who knows what else… It was almost pleasant, you know?" Abby made a so–so gesture with her right hand. "Kinda polite? As if she really wanted to talk to me. Like. Paloma specifically sought me out." Abby chewed on her bottom lip. "I just can't put my finger on why."
"Yeah, I can see that…" McGee couldn't cover for that trademark, bewildered McGee squint of his. But he smiled when he next caught Abby's eye, and he placed a hand on either of her upper arms. "But, hey, it's probably nothing. At least nothing that'll come back to bite us, right? That bullet she tossed you is probably some—some evidence she's just trying to plant, from a cartel rival. I wouldn't even run it, if I were you."
Abby gave him a semi-shrug, not committing to anything. Even if Rivera hadn't commented on the old Hernandez case and implied Abby might not have the skills to get any useful information from the evidence, she couldn't admit that she wasn't the least bit curious. But being curious down here did seem like an extremely foolhardy thing to be, considering Abby's curiosity and determination had led them right into cartel territory to start…
"Our current dilemma," McGee declared, releasing her as he turned to glance around the room, "is sleeping arrangements. Since they didn't account for me staying here—" He scratched his head as he eyed the tiny "couch" (if it could be called that) and the equally skinny bed. "Heads for the bed, tails for the couch?"
"McGee, are you really going to make a lady flip for the bed?"
He laughed, but it was more of a nervous chuckle under Abby's penetrating stare. "Well…no. But, c'mon, Abby…! If we share this bed, you know I'm going to look like Quasimodo in the morning," he whined.
"You forgot two main points in that story, Tim: Quasimodo comes to accept himself, but he finds those who accept him, too," Abby commented as she fluffed the pillow on the bed.
McGee eyed the couch with a frown before heading to his overnight bag to rummage through it. "To think even Tony and Ziva managed a shared room just fine, yet they get along like cats and dogs…"
"Well, duh. Because Ziva took the couch."
"No, Tony did."
Abby locked eyes with McGee, who narrowed his. "…huh."
"…maybe I heard him wrong," McGee said. He shook his head and pulled his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag. "Anyway, final task of the evening, then lights out."
She nodded, chuckling at how they still hadn't come to an arrangement about the bed versus the couch… But then Abby whipped her head up when she heard the sound of running water. "McGee, wait!"
He froze at the bathroom sink, brush in hand and two inches from the tap's stream. "What now?!"
She stared at his brush and then at McGee. "Please tell me that didn't touch the water."
"Not yet."
"Bottled water while in Mexico, Tim. Always bottled, even for brushing teeth."
He reddened at the obvious error and jerked the handle to turn it off. "Oh. Yeah. I, uh— That was— A, um— Thanks," he blustered. He ducked back to his bag for a bottle of water and quickly finished up.
With one crisis averted, Abby sat on the edge of the bed and wondered once more if she ought to be brushing off Paloma's presence and delivery, the way McGee had suggested. McGee's bag was parked on the floor over beside the couch, but Abby's sat in front of her on the small table just inside the door, and her mind dove inside to the pocket where a certain evidence bag lay in wait, containing one sniper's bullet… The mere thought of its mystery and Rivera's arranging this forensics seminar had Abby itching to get to the lab in spite of the fatigue from today's mini hike that weighed her down.
McGee emerged from the bathroom, tossed his things in his bag, and shuffled closer to Abby. "Hey, Abby? Everything all right?"
"Mm…yeah." She stood and toyed with the end of her ponytail for two seconds before grabbing the spare blanket she'd packed with her own things.
"Want me to hit the lights?"
"…sure."
He shuffled past her and flicked the switch by the door. But when he returned and made way for the couch, McGee stopped, caught when Abby tugged on the back of his t-shirt. He faced her and offered her a small smile, a barely there but ever friendly expression even in the dim moonlight filtered through the thin curtains by the window. That smile turned to surprise, however, when Abby turned him just enough for her to sink into his arms. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. "You know, if you really wanted the bed, all you had to do was ask, Abs. No need to flip for it, I swear."
She did know. That made her smile against his chest, briefly. "Honestly, Tim? I'm not certain I could've come down here by myself—"
"Well, we wouldn't've let that happen—"
Abby squeezed his middle. Then she peered up at him. "—and I don't want the bed. Not to myself. Not tonight."
McGee's mouth hung open in a tiny "o," as if he had something else to say. But, if he had, his train of thought vanished once he heard Abby. His eyes widened, not quite probie-in-the-headlights stunned, but just long enough for him to comprehend the situation. He frowned, a little, to himself as he reached up and cupped Abby's cheeks.
But she smiled in return and leaned in to his left hand, knowing he needed encouragement, as well as evidence that he wasn't dreaming.
Luckily for her, Timothy McGee was excellent at following another's lead. He leaned in, hesitating at the last second, resting his forehead against hers instead. Still, their noses were close enough to touch.
"Please, Tim?" she whispered.
McGee moved his hands away from her face and kissed her right cheek, by her dimple.
Abby stayed put, hands still warm against his back, through his shirt.
Their noses brushed as he kissed her left cheek, also chaste and friendly.
She utilized her stockpile of patience, willing herself not to squeeze him again, knowing he needed to get there on his own…
…and he did. Standing this close—even setting aside all the ups and downs from the past year, all the past feelings—now felt good, felt familiar and yet ever electric. And McGee was drawn back to Abby's electric charge. This time, when he kissed her, it was properly: on the lips, for much longer than two seconds, and with his hands resting on her hips.
Abby grinned against his lips in response, but it was relief that flooded her, less so desire, though she couldn't imagine being with anyone except McGee in this moment. Of course McGee still knew how to kiss (was she imagining things, or had he gotten better at this?), but more importantly he knew how Abby moved, and he anticipated her actions. That was why Abby could reach up and cradle his face in her hands without worrying about leaning back and toppling over, because one of McGee's hands moved to the small of her back, keeping her steady.
…or, at least, he could try. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Abs," he spluttered, partly breathless, once his mouth was free as Abby was busy leaving marks along his neck. He caught her as she leaned down to nip his collarbone, and McGee had to lace his fingers to keep her from falling backwards. "Um, how about we, ah, move a little so we don't end up with marks we can't explain?"
Abby raised her eyebrows.
McGee took one of her hands in his and rubbed his neck with his free one. "All right, any other marks." He pushed aside the blanket Abby had dropped atop the covers and sat down. Then he held his arms open for her.
Her heart thudded a tad harder in her chest at the sight. Abby ran her fingers through his short locks and rested one knee on the mattress, between McGee's legs, before kissing his nose and kissing his lips once more. However, this time when McGee's hands rested on her hips, they sat above her waistband; all it took was one little tug by Abby, hiking her shirt up a bit, and his fingertips rested on bare skin.
He audibly swallowed a lump of nervousness but stunningly stayed put. Even when Abby popped the first of her top's buttons, and a second, and a third…
She honestly couldn't imagine being with anyone except McGee right now. Sharing a tiny bed like this was easy for them, and this—this was a comforting, familiar sensation, as well as the only thing that could remotely make her feel safe right then…
…being in McGee's arms.
- ^-^3
Thin curtains that let in moonlight at night let in a whole lot of sunlight first thing in the morning, Abby learned.
She squinted in the intense brightness that filled the room, but…it wasn't so bad, she supposed. She didn't hate the sun, despite what her goth aesthetic made plenty think. She enjoyed the warmth of sunshine on her skin like any other person. But she also enjoyed the warmth of another person pressed flush against her—in particular, McGee.
Abby had woken before him, still in his arms. Despite last night's fun and comfort, it truly was a miracle, the both of them fitting onto this petite bedframe, neither falling off so long as they remained entwined.
She smiled while McGee continued to doze. Even while asleep, McGee wore that quizzical, "I'm halfway to solving this puzzle" face she found so amusing. …actually, there was a lot that this morning and last night had brought back to mind. For one, Abby imagined McGee likely had reacquainted himself with several of her hidden tattoos in the moonlight. But, to be fair, she'd counted a few familiar beauty marks no one usually got to see, so.
Those musings aside, Abby watched McGee and listened to his steady breath, forcing herself to relax until her breath matched his. He really had helped her to get through a crappy night—helped and then some. Still…
Her mind wandered to the files she'd been handed down here in Mexico. Files waiting to be reviewed, along with evidence waiting to be processed.
Abby hugged McGee to her. Then she pressed a kiss to his cheek and got up, picking her clothing off the floor and selecting what to wear for the day before heading to the loaned lab before he woke.
Abby trusted McGee's advice, and she trusted him to protect her in every which way. But she also knew the importance of discovering whatever else they and the rest of the team would need protection from….
- ^-^3
Oh, boy. XD Well! It's been eleven yrs since I last wrote a McAbby and didn't just imply them in the bkgd of another fic, but I liked rewriting that scene in s7e22. :') Some things I left in from the original scene/ep (his Quasimodo joke, their Tiva confusion), but the rest is by my own two paws…! *lol* I will admit, I was concerned writing this since I still ship them, but they've been kinda on the backburner for me for a long time, so I was thinking, "Egads, can I still write them?" But I'm actually p pleased with how this turned out, including the fade-to-black implied smexy times (as noted in A/Ns for other of my NCIS fics, I'm still warming to the idea of smut for my live-action fandoms; so far I've written strong T ratings, but I'm p comfy with T ratings for these ships). But just the thought of not only comfort but familiarity with that one person during anxious times…that sums up the end of s7 for me, rly. Oh, the OTP feels…! TTwTT Last thoughts: I rly do like the mental image of her tats having an analog in his beauty marks (esp bc his fair-skinned self is so likely to have them!). Also, *LOL*, I feel like an alternate title to this could [jokingly, dw] be "one little tug." XDDD So I do hope you enjoyed your request, Tweeky—it was a delightful exercise to tackle and to help me realize McAbby still charms me quite a bit!
Thanks for reading, and please review! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this. And, as with my other NCIS fics, show your support via tumblr with a reblog~
-mew-tsubaki c: