Palmer stared at the body on the ground, mortified that he had been so foolish. The gurney was now broken, the front legs snapped, unable to take the weight of the individual. The body was one of Jerry Lewis, a 5,9 man of Asian descent who was a sumo wrestler in training when alive. And thus, between the man's weight and the age of the gurney, an unfortunate incident had occurred.

Doctor Mallard wasn't due back from a seminar that he'd been asked to guest on for another hour, so Palmer had time to figure out how to get Mr Lewis off the cold floor and onto the… well, cold, steel autopsy table.

"Hey Jimmy, have those reports been -" Agent McGee halted both himself and his sentence in the doorway as he saw Palmer standing above the deceased with hand on chin in ponder. He then felt the need to edge himself out the room when he saw the glee in the other man's face.

"McGee! Perfect – I'll grab a stretcher and between us we can roll Mr Lewis onto it and then lift him onto the table."

Sighing, McGee removed his blazer and set it neatly at Ducky's desk as Jimmy hurried back with the stretcher, practically throwing it down next to the victim's body. He then went to position himself at the lower end of the body. McGee joined him, taking the upper end of the body.

"On three McGee: roll. One. Two. Three!" The pair heaved with all their might Mr Lewis' body towards themselves and onto the stretcher, the body slowly rolling over. Once successful, the pair was a little sweatier from the activity than either would want to admit.

"Palmer," McGee started. "He's lying face down."

"Well, yes…" Jimmy looked puzzled. "We just rolled him into his front to get him on the stretcher."

"Yes, but if we lift him like this, we'll be putting him on the autopsy table lying face down and well… isn't he meant to be on his back on the autopsy table?" The agent looked at the future M.E, who looked back with a facial expression that bestowed a cocktail of confusion, panic and realisation. With an equally sad and frustrated grown, Jimmy removed his glasses and rubber his eyes. "Now now, we can figure this out. Is there another stretcher?"

"Um, no. Tony broke it."

"When? Actually, let's not get side tracked. Is there another gurney?"

"Um… no. Well, yes… but it's on loan to another M.E."

"Since when?"

"Since she was pretty and Scottish."

"Oh, Jimmy."

"Actually, it was Dr Mallard." It was McGee's turn to groan and rub at his temples.

Best plans going to waste by his co-worker's worst efforts.

"Fine. Fine, fine, fine! Let's just get him on the table and then when Ducky is back, he can help – I am sure, he has had a similar situation happen." The pair gave each other a strong look and nod; there was definitely going to be a lecture turned into a story of a prior time in the aged man's life.

They stood, Jimmy again at the lower end and Timmy at the upper end of the man's body. Both shifted and stretched their body's ever-so before squatting down and taking the handles of the stretcher. Both could mentally hear Ducky in their minds 'lift with your legs not your back, boy' and both were set to follow the man's words.

"On three," Jimmy said. "One. Two. Three!"

They lifted with all the strength their body's possessed and for a moment it hurt, before both stood with ease. Amazed at themselves, they didn't argue with how easy it suddenly felt to lift Mr Lewis at first. It wasn't until they began to realise, it shouldn't be so easy, that they grew confused. Looking down, they found why.

Mr Lewis' body had broken straight through the stretcher, leaving them holding nothing but the metal frame.

"You said Tony broke the other stretcher?"

"Yep."

They threw the metal frames onto the table and looked at Mr Lewis.

"I think we can lift him."

"Are you serious?"

"What, we've abes-olutely go this," Palmer gave bashful grin with a wink. The joke was clearly unwanted, as McGee seemed to shy into himself, cashing his eyes downwards. He took a step backwards until he hit the workbench and rest himself on it. "I've said something wrong I feel."

"No… I'm just waiting for this stupid 'Timmy's got Palmer abs' thing to die off really… Don't get me wrong Palmer, you're brilliant and everyone's different and its great you're so… Physically well." The last part a direct notion to the six pack that hid under the other man's scrubs.

"My Spider senses tingle to a 'but'" Jimmy nudged, noticing he was getting something that had been collecting dust inside of his friend out into the fresh light.

Tim shrugged. "It's stupid."

"You're talking to the guy who managed to get a trainee sumo wrestler stuck on the floor of the autopsy room with no stretcher or gurney." That joke brought a little smile to both their faces as their current predicament was brought back to them.

"Its stupid, because… I feel like I'm being compared and I'm the lesser of the two comparisons."

The words hung in the air with a feeling behind them that both men knew from different corners in their lives. Yet the words still surprised Jimmy, never ever thinking that he'd be held in such a comparison, let alone be considered the 'better side' of it.

"Tim, you could never be the lesser of a comparison -"

"Oh don't Palmer. Only one of us has a six pack." Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Lift up your shirt." He was met was a look and a raised eyebrow. "I promise not to tell Tony."

The magic words were muttered and Tim certainly felt a little more comfortable around Jimmy. Sighing, he reluctantly untucked his white shirt and hoisted it up to just above his midsection. A small gesture was made with his hand for Jimmy to look, but the movement didn't hold confidence.

"See, no abs," McGee said. Jimmy shifted his glasses.

"Tim, you have a two pack."

McGee scoffed. "No I –"

"No, seriously: you have a two pack." McGee went to protest, but Palmer had already crossed the room manoeuvred his friend towards one of the furthest autopsy tables. On the side was a small, round mirror that Jimmy held. In the reflection, McGee did indeed see the outline of what seemed to be a two pack forming on his abdomen.

"I hadn't noticed," he smiled. "I'd been far too busy putting myself down to notice."

"Well stop that. Doctors orders," Jimmy playful instructed. "Hey, if you want, come to the gym with me sometime."

"Tony would riot if I randomly had a six pack one day," McGee chuckled gleefully at the idea.

"Well then Agent McGee and Mr Palmer," A Scottish accent echoed across the room. The pair snapped their heads towards the door to find Doctor Mallard back early from his talk. "Maybe you could use those abs to pick poor Mr Lewis off my autopsy floor!"

The pair looked back like kicked puppies. "Y-yes Doctor Mallard."

As he watched the two shuffle themselves back towards the deceased, Ducky couldn't wait to go and inform Agent DiNozzo that a certain Probie had a two pack, with full anticipation of enjoying the riotous reaction.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review. Hope to see you again for future fics.