I feel like I've been writing this chapter forever! I had a little writer's block and some real life things that I had to take care of. I changed the rating because I thought this chapter was going to go M, but I had a change of plan. I'm not sure if the next one will be M stuff or not, I'm not the type of girl that has a plan ;) Thanks again for all your kind reviews!

He was the first to wake up. He turned over to see if she was still there. She was. This was somewhat to his surprise, as she was usually awake before him. Lying there peacefully sleeping, he felt a rush of affection for her. Impulsively he leant forward and kissed the back of her neck. As pleased as he was that she was still here, maybe it would have been better if she wasn't. Then he wouldn't have to deal with another disappointing and awkward situation. Bleary eyed, he looked at the clock, it was still early, he still had time. Dragging himself out of bed as quietly as he could, he reached for some pants and a shirt. Dressing quickly, he looked over his shoulder at her. She looked so perfect, her pale skin against the white cotton sheets. With her back turned to him, he could see her large tattoo peeking out of the top of the sheets. He loved her individuality, he knew no one else in the world would be waking up to someone like her. Smiling in spite of himself, he scooped up his keys and walked out of the apartment.

Eventually she awoke. It took her a few seconds to register where she was, but once she had got her bearings she rolled over, reaching for him. When she found the other side of the bed empty, she opened her eyes fully, searching the room for him. Propping herself up on her elbows, she frowned, he had let her sleep in.

"McGee!" she called, "you let me sleep late!"

Maybe he was taking a shower or, more likely, on his computer. Unable to stand lazing in bed any longer, she climbed out and walked over to his closet. Opening the doors, she revealed a plethora of well-ironed shirts. She shook her head at his neatness, pulled a shirt from its coathanger and slipped it over herself. Padding barefoot from the bedroom, she called his name over and over. At first she refused to believe it, but once she had checked every room, she was forced to face reality. He was gone.

Inside his car McGee was restless. He had tried listening to the radio since he had left his apartment, but almost immediately switched it off again. He was unable to concentrate on anything but her. She always left him feeling like this after one of their nights together. All of his thoughts were a disorganised mess. Was one night with her worth all this turmoil? One last gesture, he thought to himself, pulling into a parking spot and turning off his engine.

Where was he? Surely he knew she came here without her car, without even enough money for a cab. How was she going to get home? She had even considered sticking around a little longer than usual to spend some time with Tim, but now she just wanted to get out of here. Resolving to wait a little longer before calling him, she sat cross-legged on his couch, flipping through a few old computer magazines. Abby guessed that he was trying to make a point with his little disappearing act. His actions had enraged her, but deep down she felt more hurt than angry. She had thought they were going to try and talk things out, she couldn't believe that he was going to take this opportunity to settle an old score. Maybe she didn't know him at all…

Wiggling his keys in the lock, he struggled to open the door. He entered and kicked the door shut behind him. Abby was sat on his couch, reading an old magazine. He instantly knew he had offended her, as she didn't greet him or even turn and smile. He asked her if she was ok, but unfortunately the paper bag he was holding between his teeth made his words unintelligible. On hearing his muffled speech, Abby turned round, looking confused. McGee was concentrating hard, attempting to juggle a variety of bags and boxes.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

Opening his mouth to drop the paper bag onto the table, he motioned towards her with his left hand. Instantly breaking into a smile, she leapt from the couch and over towards him. She took the Caf-Pow from his hand and wrapped her arms around him.

"Hey, be careful, you'll crush my pancakes." He warned.

She raised an eyebrow at him. He popped open the lid of one of the plastic cartons he had been carrying to reveal a stack of warm, sticky pancakes.

"See. Pancakes," he said, "I…uh…didn't know what to get. So if you don't want pancakes, there's donuts or breakfast burritos."

"You should have told me where you were going." She nagged, stretching to reach the bag of donuts.

"You were sleeping and you looked so happy, I didn't want to wake you." He replied.

She grinned, and thrust a burrito towards him. Taking it from her hand, he smiled; she was going to eat breakfast with him. She sauntered towards the couch with the bag of donuts in one hand and her trusty Caf-Pow in the other. As she walked away, he noticed the shirt she was wearing barely skimmed the top of her thighs. She turned around, once again raising an eyebrow at him. He had been caught. Fortunately all she said, still smiling, was;

"Bring the pancakes, Tim."

Dutifully he carried the pancakes over to the couch, where she was curled up in one of the corners. He passed them to her and took his seat at the other end of the couch and began consuming his burrito. After a few bites, he had gathered the nerve to talk to her.

"So, how do you like…breakfast?" He asked, staring down at his food.

Abby suspected this question was not as straightforward as it seemed. Since he had come back to the apartment with all that food, she was forced to forget all about her anger and her resolve to leave. How could she have ever thought he would leave her? This was Tim, he couldn't hurt her if he tried. In truth, she liked breakfast and she liked him. She just wasn't too comfortable with saying that yet. It had taken her years to realise how she felt about him, she didn't see any point rushing to the finish line now. So instead she crawled towards him, looked him straight in the eye and softly kissed him on the lips.

She tasted like sugar. It wasn't an answer but somehow it was ok. It was the best she could do. He understood.